#the lodge of sorrows

[skullgirls]

for my 24th birthday babo and i took our first road trip together in years to savannah. despite spending my entire existence in the state of georgia, i somehow had never been.

we met goats, cows, emus, llamas, and miniature donkeys at a gas station petting zoo on the way. jumped in the atlantic ocean and froze our asses off. hunted for seashells. explored savannah, got lost, took tequila shots at pinky master’s, got lost again. witnessed a dodge charger hit another car and fly six feet in the air before somehow driving off. accidentally convinced countless locals that we were in a cult while trying to find the lodge of sorrows. and saw wednesday on a thursday.

on friday we explored savannah some more, found bacon-egg-and-cheese bagels and coffee that were somehow the temperature of the surface of the sun and never cooled down, saw the grave of america’s foremost painter of miniatures, and walked along the savannah river.

i’ve had a lot of shitty birthdays for a myriad of reasons but this was a really good one

[bughead-in-the-comics]

From Borrow Sorrow, Archie's Pals 'n' Gals #37 (1966).

[noneofthisisreal]

[lucyfrostblade]

i won't break no contact to ask if she's dead or not that would be so fucked but it would be a little funny tho

[ybklix]

KINKTOBER! ⁺˚⋆｡✧

˚‧｡⋆ SKZ ‘24, the masterlist:

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

OT8 INTRO: LUST

synopsis: Lee Minho plans a little getaway with his closest friends, their wives, and you, his girlfriend and most adored and prized possession, right after he intentionally reads your private diary and leaves him wandering with your writing about something particular.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

☾ BANG CHAN ☽˚.⋆

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

synopsis: As part of a college assignment, you interview a peculiar doctor about his success and long career, but then he starts telling you about the odd and unbelievable lifestyle he used to lead that got him there, claiming to be something you find funny at first, but then you get caught up in the details, causing tension and questioning reality. pairing: vampire!chrisbahng x inexperiencedfem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: corruption kink, breeding, choking, +more...

☾ LEE KNOW ☽˚.⋆

somebody’s watching me

synopsis: Meeting a mysterious and secretive man thrills every part of you, but unknowingly, he watches you from his window on a lonely night, not realizing that it will ignite a new behavior in him. pairing: lee minho x camgirl!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: voyeurism, sex toys, perv tendencies, +more...

☾ CHANGBIN ☽˚.⋆

like lovers do

synopsis: Your new boss is quite interesting, so the night lends itself to a few drinks and the discovery of never-before-explored bodies in such an inappropriate but magnetic act. pairing: ceo!seochangbin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: deepthroat, dom/sub tendencies, sir kink, +more...

☾ HYUNJIN ☽˚.⋆

ART DECO

synopsis: An eccentric and peculiar artist, whose art is well known for its captivating and erotic method, is fascinated by you, who naively thought you just accepted a small job for him. pairing: dom!hyunjin x sub!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: shibari ropeplay, bdsm, +more...

☾ HAN ☽˚.⋆

MIDNIGHT SHADOWS october 18th

synopsis: After discovering his wife's infidelity, a sorrowful man seeks fun and solace on a peculiar and dark night, whose twisted games of fate lead him to meet you, in such a strange way, in what seems to be a forbidden place where he shouldn't be. pairing: han jisung x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: amaurophilia, facefucking, impact play, +more...

☾ FELIX ☽˚.⋆

nocturnal whispers october 21st

synopsis: On a long and tedious night, you and your boyfriend decide to spend some time, openly trying new things. pairing: lee felix x fem!femreader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: roleplay, sex toys, dreg kink, +more...

☾ SEUNGMIN ☽˚.⋆

unspoken storm october 25th

synopsis: On an unfortunate night of heavy rain you find yourself stuck without being able to move forward, until a kind man sees you and offers to give you lodging until the rain stops but he turns out to be your teacher; once being alone leads you to get to know each other better in such a specific way, exploring dangerous territories and forbidden fantasies. pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇 ✧˚.🔮 cw: spanking, corruption kink, +more...

☾ I.N. ☽˚.⋆

hotel california october 28th

synopsis: A young and naive Jeongin stays for a few days in a mysterious hotel with a certain strange vibe out of necessity but decides to stay after meeting you and in a way, until he has you, but everyone around him seems to keep secrets. pairing: rockstar!yangjeongin x fem!reader ★ ₊ .˙⊹.🕯️˚˖ cw: roleplay, chocking, +more...

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

OT8: Season of the witch october 31st

⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★ ⁺˚⋆｡✧ ° ₊ ☆⋆｡°‧★

INTERLUDES🕸️

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

BAHNG CHAN

⟶ pretty when you cry

⟶ in the night

⟶ teacher’s pet

⟶ dollhouse

⟶ playground

⟶ big bad wolf

⟶ be my daddy

⟶ sweater weather

⟶ little red riding hood

⟶ enjoy the ride

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

LEE MINHO

⟶ the uninvited

⟶ sad girl

⟶ behind closed doors

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

SEO CHANGBIN

⟶ asylum

⟶ onsen

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

HWANG HYUNJIN

⟶ lost muse ₊

⟶ ultraviolence

⟶ night time, my time

⟶ allure

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

HAN JISUNG

⟶ doll parts

⟶ don’t talk to strangers

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

LEE FELIX

⟶ trick or treat!

⟶ sinner

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

KIM SEUNGMIN

⟶ illicit affairs

⟶ veil of innocence

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

YANG JEONGIN

⟶ a little death

⟶ gods & monsters

⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

OT8 / fem!reader x specific members:

⟶ LIAR (ot8)

⟶ burning desire (ot8 - 3 part series)

⟶ fight club (chan & minho)

⟶ I put a spell on you (han, felix, seungmin)

⟶ intruders (han & felix)

🎃 ̊ ̟ ꒷ ꒦ 🦇 ꒦ ꒷ ̟ ̊ 🎃

happy fall and spooky season⭒✧˖°.🕷 ๋࣭ ⭑✮₊ ⊹

playlist (i'm still working on it)

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Quick Notes:

You, the reader who is an artist, and had become Alastor's sweetheart, have just died.

Alastor is about to find out.

Part 7:

The sound of a singular gunshot rang clearly in the night that had been so peacefully quiet up until that moment in time.

Alastor, with the engagement ring in his pocket, who had been peacefully reading a novel within the confines of your shared home, nearly ripped his book in half upon hearing the sound of a gunshot in these woods.

The forest around here was part of his private property, anyone who dared to trespass or hunt in his neck of the woods was shot on sight. Many people ignored the plentiful and very obvious warning signs, so it wasn't his fault so many people ended up becoming your and his meals. Everyone else just thought the law didn't apply to them, straight-up criminals. In his eyes, they all deserved it.

Thinking it was just another nuisance, a "tsk" left Alastor's mouth as he grabbed his shotgun and headed into the woods.

After a few minutes of walking, he finally caught sight of the transgressors. Two men that he, unfortunately, recognized right away as the men from the bar who liked to push his buttons by harassing you.

The seething rage pooled in his core, bubbling up into his chest. This was his chance to get rid of those nuisances once and for all.

They would trouble his darling no more.

For him to get into a better position to take the men out, he crouched down and quietly circled around them like a hunter playing with his prey.

After circling around to position himself behind the men, what he wasn't expecting to see was the most nightmarish sight he's ever seen.

His beloved sweetheart, soon to be betrothed, all disheveled and tied up against a blood-splattered tree with a bullet lodged in the middle of their forehead.

Your eyes were lifeless. There was no doubt about it, the love of his life was dead.

Alastor didn't need to even think before pulling the trigger on the men, shooting one after the other, over and over, even after their bodies had hit the ground.

He. Was. Enraged.

By the time Alastor was done with them, they looked like Swiss cheese, barely strung together.

Alastor's breath was heavy, his chest heaving, near hyperventilating, his eyes were enlarged and his mind was focused on one thing. You.

His beautiful love, he couldn't bear to see you in this state.

In his oddly manic and shocked state, he untied you from the tree and took your body back to your shared home in the woods not too far from here.

For a few moments, his rage was replaced by sorrow and mourning as he buried you in the backyard. As fucked up as he was in the head sometimes, he would rather die than think about eating you. You were sacred to him.

As he laid you down into the ground, he embraced you once last time and took the ring out of his pocket. He placed the ring onto your ring finger and kissed the top of your hand, "In life and in death, I am forever yours, as you are forever mine. I love you, dear."

After you were buried, the rage returned like a vicious tsunami. Oh he wasn't done with revenge just yet.

Every single man or woman that ever mistreated you or offended you, was put on his list.

This night was the catalyst that gave birth to the serial killer known as the "Bayou Killer".

Alastor stopped visiting Mimzy's bar since your death, with his sole focus and dedication in life going to hunting down those that had harmed you in life. After all, they deserved it, you were like an angel to him.

But what Alastor didn't stop doing, was broadcasting his radio show. So many of his connections were made because of his show, so it was a valuable resource to keep active, to use to his advantage.

Alastor continued living his life like this until every single name was crossed off his list.

It was then that it was time for his luck to run out.

Right upon the killing the very last person on the list, was Alastor also shot right square in the forehead.

Before his consciousness faded into black, all he could hear was the muffled panic of a stranger who seemed to be apologizing for mistaking him for some sort of animal.

All Alastor could do was chuckle at the irony of the whole situation, the maniacal laughter was the type that only a madman could produce- before everything went dark and he died.

He thought he would never see you again, because surely, his beloved sweetheart would end up in heaven right?

The answer to this would remain a mystery for many decades to come as Alastor descended into Hell and became who is now widely known in Hell as "The Radio Demon".

-> Part 8

[n109hunter]

Fates Rewritten -

pairing: sylus x mc word count: 3,058 summary: After MC wakes up from an all-too-real dream, she struggles to piece together the fragments from another life - and rushes to seek out the only person who can soothe her sorrow. tags/warnings: SPOILERS for Beyond Cloudfall (Sylus Limited Myth), first person, angst, emotional hurt + a little comfort, established relationship a/n: This is my entry for the fanwork contest on twitter. I wish I'd had a little more time to polish it, but deadlines be deadlines. It was largely my need to get some of the intense emotions out after reading Beyond Cloudfall and "fix it" in a mostly canon compliant way.

(ao3 link)

I woke in a cold sweat, body aching with the all-too-real memory of growing horns and a tail - but more than that the pain of losing him. As if I’d really lived it. As if I’d really lost him. 

I’m vaguely aware of tears streaming down my face as my hands clutch mindlessly at my chest. Unable to calm the racing of my heart, my lungs burn as if I’d just been fighting a horde of wanderers. My waking mind rails against the possibility of any of that being real, but I know - I know too damn well it was all true. My mind and body resonated with those memories and the damning pain too deeply to have been false.

A wellspring of grief swells up from my chest, emotions too big to name let alone reason with overwhelm me and get lodged in my throat. I have to see him. It’s the only thought I can firmly grasp onto as I choke on one sob after another. 

Trembling from head to toe I climb out of bed, scrambling around my room as my body attempts to go through the habitual motions of getting ready. I go to grab a shirt but quickly drop it on the floor in favor of a jacket - I don’t have time to change, my pajamas are fine, I just need to see him. As I leave my apartment I almost forget my helmet, before hurrying back frantically to grab it. 

It’s dark outside, probably some early hour - I could have called him, but those kinds of thoughts weren’t processing. The overlap of memories is disorienting: I didn’t have anything like a phone I could have called him with in that lifetime. 

An orphan, raised on stories of slaying dragons, branded a sorceress to be executed… To be told such a fanciful story would have been one thing, but to remember it? Not everything entirely, nor clearly, but I remember enough. More than that: I remembered how I felt, and I can feel it all too keenly myself. The desperation, the anger, the desire, the hatred… And the love. The depth of our bond that tugs at me so violently now: I need to see him right fucking now. 

From a street lamp overhead Mephisto tilted his head as he watched her amble towards her bike, her movements… odd. He was a smart enough bird to know something wasn’t right, and sent a message to Sylus. 

I don’t think about how it is probably exceedingly dangerous to ride in my current state of mind. I’m too preoccupied taking countless fragments of moments and holding them to the light, seeing how they overlap.

“Do you know what you look like right now?” His voice asked me, layering gently over itself in two very different times. 

“What a smug expression.” || “You’re a young dragon who just grew her horns.”

I remember when, indignantly, I bit his hand in an act of defiance against fate. And I remember when, with that confident, captivating look on his face, he bit my hand playfully in the café.

Speeding down the streets towards the N109 Zone, countless memories re-arrange themselves in my mind. How many times? How many times had he reached out to me, spoke to me in a secret language only we could know, hoping to trigger a spark. 

And I had known it all along, deep down. From the first time I saw him, when I looked into his eyes and felt that insatiable urge to devour him. When I absorbed the aether core and saw that dreadful moment where his clawed hand grasped mine and stabbed him through. Every time our aether cores formed the linkage between us, or even that time in the cathedral, where we played the organ together… 

“You actually remembered.” He had said.

How many times have I asked him to explain? And now… Now I think I might understand a little of why he didn’t. At the very least, I can’t imagine how to explain it if it was me who remembered first. 

But at the end of my dream I was left alone, clutching the last fragment of his soul as my body painfully transformed. It was then I woke up with an anguish too great to bear, but also: a smoldering determination. Or rather, maybe it was better to call it ‘defiance’, of the fate we’d been handed. But I can’t fathom what might have possibly come next. With a grief that big, part of me doesn’t want to.

All I know for sure is: I have to see him. He’d been bearing the burden of it all this time alone, I can’t bear the thought of him being alone one more moment. To say nothing of the sickening nausea that wrenches my gut remembering how it had felt to watch him die. I have to see him with my own eyes, feel him with my hands, know that he is real and alive.

By the time I arrive at the base I’m somehow more disoriented than I had when I’d woke up. I feel like a time traveler several times over. The ride had been such a blur I barely remember it, which is a scary thought, but I don’t care to linger on it. My mind and body feel out-of-sync, and when my body sways it takes a second longer for my mind to correct it. I feel… drunk, almost, or drugged, like the first time I came to the N109. 

What am I going to say to him? I wrack my brain for a single word to start with, but before I can grasp anything I’m torn back to a dream within a dream in a flower field, I think of the flowers he took me to see a few weeks ago. 

Sylus is so damn good at reading my mind, would he know just by looking at me? 

The familiar sound of a crow calling startles me, and when I shake my head the synchronization of my body and mind gets a little better. Mephisto lands on my shoulder, and it’s a comforting weight. 

“…Were you following me?” I stroke a finger against his neck absently, out of habit. He leans into it as if enjoying the attention, but I suspect it’s more of a friendly gesture for my sake. 

The doors swing open and the faces of the twins greet me. 

“Hey there, boss-lady.” Kieran starts in his usual, friendly tone, but then it shifts as if he’s unsure of something. “Uhh, boss isn’t here right now, but he’s on his way.” 

“He said to get you anything if you needed.”

For a moment I simply stare back at them as my brain processes these new inputs. As often as I come here nowadays, it wasn’t like they needed to roll out the red carpet for me or anything, so this welcome is… a little odd. Then it clicks, and I glance at Mephisto again.

“You told on me.” It feels nice and a little grounding to know my favorite mechanical crow is still looking out for me like always.

He turns his head away and gives a short, indignant caw. He’s being stubborn and a little shy.

“I’m just going to wait in his room…” I tell Luke and Kieran as I walk in, handing my helmet over to them. They step aside, but I hear them trailing behind me a little ways down the halls - they’re shuffling and dragging their feet on purpose.

“All right, but… just let us know if you need anything.” Then, silently, they fall back into the shadows. 

Do I look as bad as I feel? My face does still burn from crying so much, and I feel tired enough for two lifetimes of shared memories. 

Once I step into his room though, an inexplicable comfort washes over me. I feel a tension unravel and a new wave of grief as I hug myself, consoled in the smallest sense seeing signs of him.

Mephisto flutters over to his perch, but keeps a silent eye on me. Lingering in the middle of the room, I scan the familiar sights slowly. The art on the walls, the records and record player… My heart twists recalling that he hadn’t appreciated music ‘back then’. 

It all makes sense, doesn’t it? The hordes of trinkets and weapons he collects are much the same as back then. I can’t help but wonder how many of the weapons were collected from people who had tried to kill him, like those kept in his lair in Tarus City. 

A searing anger kindles within me at the thought of it, and a realization follows that once again my beloved has been branded a villain in this life. I cling to the anger, it’s so much easier to deal with than all the pain and grief, but it isn’t nearly enough.

I can’t bring myself to sit so I simply stand in the middle of the room, hugging myself tighter. What I need to do is get my thoughts and emotions under control, and figure out just what the hell I’m possibly going to say to him. But just thinking about how to open her mouth and utter the words makes me feel like I’ll start sobbing again. Or vomit. Maybe both.

Maybe he already knows. We’re bound together, we’ve shared dreams before… Again my thoughts derail as a heat warms my face recalling a certain dream I had a few months ago. I pat my cold hands against my cheeks, and internally squash down my shame. So what if he knows about that? 

Except, he knew all along and never told me so many other things, too. Part of me desperately wants something to be angry and indignant about, but instead all I’m left with is a sweetly sharp and aching pain: I love him so much. He’s always trying to be so considerate of me, and I know it’s because he wants us to live this life that we have together, right here and now. I feel so sure of it in the depths of my soul, as if his heart beats steadily alongside my own whispering this answer.

Tears are running down my face again. How can one person cry so damn much?

The door opens behind me, and I realize I haven’t thought of a single thing to say to him. My throat feels tight and my brain is just as uncooperative as it’s been this entire time.

Behind me the familiar sound of his footsteps approaches, and he softly says my name like a question, gently coaxing me to look at him. 

He told me before: between him prying and me opening up, he prefers the latter. Today, I might need him to pry a little. But more important than anything: I need to see him. 

That one overwhelming feeling that brought me here turns me on my heel. Without hesitation I rush to him, taking his face between my hands and tracing every detail with my gaze. He does the same, searching my face for answers - not yet reading my mind, it seems. 

I trace his jawline with my fingertips, brush my thumbs over his cheeks, my attention lingering briefly in places where scales grew like armor once. For the first time since I woke up I am seeing clearly, my body and mind in sync, the world and all things settling into place as I trace a finger down the bridge of his perfect nose and then brush it over those irresistible lips. 

And of course, those eyes. His utterly captivating eyes that pull me in and keep me. It hurts to think that I might have ever been afraid of him. I know now better than ever before (and I definitely knew it before) but he is, of course, utterly deserving of that fear. But not from me. Never me.  

Sylus’s hands rest on my waist. He doesn’t move away from my inspection, and for several moments says nothing either. He simply watches me in return, a slight furrow in his brow as he waits patiently - no doubt assessing every possibility as to what might have drove me here in this state. He’d raze Linkon - even the world - if something upset me. If I asked him to. 

I need to put his mind at ease. I wet my lips and take in a breath, but the words die on my tongue. 

“What happened?” He asks gently when he sees me struggle. Then, with a hint of pain -or maybe guilt- in his voice: “Did you have another bad dream?”

Despite everything, I smile. I also barely choke back a sob, but I still can’t help but smile. His hands draw up to cup my face and gently wipe the new tears from my raw cheeks. I manage a small nod to give him some measure of an answer, as I give him another look-over. 

He’s here. Alive. My dragon is here with me. I have to tell him I remember. 

But those aren’t the words that come spilling out.

“I love you.”

That’s the most important thing. Even if I can’t stop myself from crying again, I have to tell him this, even if I’m shaking as I press my hands to his chest, gripping the fine fabric of his suit and leaving wrinkles. 

“I love you so much, Sylus.”

He looks a little stunned, which I might have delighted in any other time. It’s subtle, because it’s Sylus, but his brows are slightly raised and lips parted as he tries to make sense of the state I’m in and the words I’m saying. Maybe I’m making it worse. 

“You-?” He starts to speak, maybe to ask something, or maybe he figured it out. But at long last the next words are there in my mouth full of bitterness and relief, hope and grief, and too many emotions to name let alone stomach, so I fling them out to be rid of them at last.

“I remember.”

It barely scratches the surface, but it tells him what he needs to know for the moment. In dozens of moments in our time together I have seen looks like this one on his face. Where memories overlap and he has to carefully bite back his words and feelings. I understand it very well now. Right now he’s wondering: ‘How much?’ and it’s not as though I could answer that for him in a single word. I’m certain there is still so much I don’t remember. 

“Is that so?” He asks slowly, brushing a hand over my hair soothingly. “And what exactly did you remember?” 

Yeah, I should have seen that one coming. I touch his face again, gazing into those stunning ruby eyes as I try to find more words. I’ll start simple.

“I remember a dragon.” Yes, that’s an easy place to start. In my memory he is breathtaking beyond words. “A beautiful, lonely dragon, who spoiled me rotten.” I feel a smile return to my lips, and I can feel the smug satisfaction of the Sorceress burn hot in my chest. ‘Rotten’, yes, by the standards of the Ivory City. But she had embraced her true desires, her true self.

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a quiet laugh, a smirk on his lips. 

“You actually remembered.” He sighs, and though he sounds relieved, there’s some other emotion I can’t quite place. It might be close to the ‘guilt’ that sometimes colors his voice when he feels bad about plaguing my dreams with his wounds. Which seems fitting, in a strange sense. Painfully fateful in another.

How many of those dreams were actually ‘real’? Like the dreams we created between our bound souls, like warmth born between clasped hands. 

It doesn’t matter right now. Probably. 

“But… you left me.” I can barely get the words out, they’re quiet and break under the weight of emotions, but at the very least I don’t cry any more. I might actually be all cried out, but my head is definitely starting to hurt about it. 

“You should know that’s not possible.” He speaks in a low, soft voice. There’s an undercurrent of forcefulness that betray strong feelings, but he’s purposefully speaking so very gently. He takes my opposite hand, twining our fingers together. “Our souls are bound together. I am always with you.” 

“But you died.” I know it’s true, I felt it. He isn’t exactly denying it either. 

“And I’m here now.” 

His words are irrefutable. That’s all that matters now, isn’t it? It’s also not like I haven’t seen him survive the impossible before. It isn’t an answer, not exactly, but it settles some of the loud confusion in my head regardless. 

I touch my fingers just below his right eye. A familiar hunger thrums gently in me, but it doesn’t frighten me. For now, it’s enough knowing that it’s proof of our bond.

“Yeah…” I murmur, aware of how unconvincing I sound. Softly holding my chin he leans closer, so his eyes are all I can see.

“And I’m not going anywhere.” His words sound like an echo of our oaths to each other. The ring clear and strong, unwavering; the confidence he always embodies reverberates within me. I squeeze his hand tightly. 

“Good.” I feel my resolve overlap with the Sorceress’s from that moment he nearly slipped through her fingers completely. “You’re not even allowed to think about leaving me.” Her words overlap with my own, and I watch a smile form on his lips. “You’ll always be tied to me. Forever.”

That’s right. We’ll tear down any fate that tries to keep us apart with our own hands, and then we’ll reforge it into whatever we desire - together.

He lifts our hands and places a soft kiss against my knuckles. Time and again I’ve seen emotions pass over him that I couldn’t understand, but now I see more clearly. The warmth of relief eases his shoulders and bolsters him. I think… maybe he didn’t even expect my remembering to soothe him as much as it does. 

“That,” he says as his thumb sweeps over my lips, “is a fate I will gladly accept.”

[littlefireball]

ᴍɢ|ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴇ (ᴍ)

@lezleeferguson-120 thx for requesting.

ᴋɪɴɢ ᴍɪɴɢɪ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜰᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴋɪꜱꜱ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜɪᴛ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ, ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ(?)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:3.4ᴋ

"Speak up. Who is it that you wish to save?" Mingi, the King of the Far East realm, confronted the warlord John, who had taken Mingi's brother captive. "Let my brother go, and I will return one princess to you." 

Your sister frequently slipped away to the borders of the Far East realm for secret meetings with Mingi's brother. But fate took a turn when Mingi caught her in the act. You and the army rushed to intervene, igniting a fierce conflict. In the chaos, you and your sister found yourselves captured by Mingi, while his brother was taken hostage.

"Make your choice. Don't force me to ask again," Mingi pressed, his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.

You hold your breath, hoping John would choose you. Despite being a princess, you were often overlooked, overshadowed by your mother's unpopularity. Raised in a military camp, you had always been a soldier at heart. John, your childhood love, had vowed to marry you on your eighteenth birthday. Yet, the war had postponed your dreams time and again, and still, you were willing to wait for him.

However, this promise was about to be shattered.

"Please choose me, please. It hurts!" Your sister whined, tears streaming down. "Y/N, you won't let me suffer, will you?" 

"So you want me to suffer?"You countered. 

"But you are living in a military camp. I'm not as strong as you…" she said pitifully. You grasped the deeper meaning behind her words completely. What she's really saying was that rescuing you would be futile. Having been raised in a military camp, you've endured far more hardship than she had, and given your lack of favoritism, you being a hostage seems to be the most sensible option. 

You averted your gaze, fixating on John, silently wishing he would ignore your sister's remarks. Yet, the general standing behind him shot you a harsh glare. John's expression was devoid of the affection you craved; instead, it brimmed with pity for your sister. Though their words were muffled, you could sense the generals were pressuring John to side with your sister, given his close ties to her. 

You instinctively shook your head, as if to reject the entire situation. In response, all you received was an even more frigid stare from him.

"Please choose me!" Your sister was begging again. "I don't want to die!" 

"Shut up!" The men looming behind you yelled, their voices laced with irritation, causing your sister to scream. John glanced at you, then turned his attention to her, his fist tightening in frustration. He longed to protect you, but the king's orders held him back. Your sister's words rang true; you could endure the trials of being a hostage. He would rescue you, but only after ensuring your sister's safety.

"I choose her." John's finger trembled as he pointed at your sister, his voice quaking. Your eyes grew wide with disbelief, a deep sense of betrayal washing over you. The cold blade of the sword pressed against your neck, drawing a thin line of crimson on your skin, yet you felt no sting. Instead, the ache in your heart rendered you motionless.

"Deal." Mingi nudged your sister ahead, while John mirrored the action with Mingi's brother. A torrent of words lodged in your throat, refusing to spill into coherent sentences. Instead, a whirlwind of questions and a deep sorrow filled your heart, the sting of betrayal from your lover weighing heavily on your chest. You stood there, powerless, as your so-called sister leaned against John, her voice trembling with fear as she recounted her terror.

You should be the one crying! Not her!

"Let's go back, princess." Mingi whispered against your ear, giving a shiver down your spine. He pulled you away, yet your gaze remained fixated on them . John apologized, promising to save you in ten days. But can you trust him? The sight of your sister's victorious grin made your stomach churn with unease.

—----

"Eat," Mingi commanded, gesturing for the servant to set the tray before you. "I don't want to bury your body." 

You hesitated, but your hunger got the better of you. You slowly reached for a piece of fruit, biting into it gingerly. The sweet juice filled your mouth, and you found yourself relaxing slightly.

It's been three days since the incident, and your emotions were a tangled mess. You were filled with anger over the feeling of abandonment, yet there was a shift in how you perceive Mingi. 

His unexpected kindness has made you question the harsh judgments you've heard about him. Rather than confining you to a cell, he's provided you with a room of your own. True, there were guards keeping a watchful eye, and freedom felt like a distant dream. Still, the conditions here were surprisingly more comfortable than what you experienced at so-called home.

"So, are you still waiting for your lovely warlord?" He sat by your bed, taking a sip from his drink. 

Doubt flickered in your mind as you absorbed his words, your fist tightening instinctively. Deep down, you understood he would never return, all because of your father. To him, your existence was insignificant, even in death. Yet, a nagging curiosity tugged at you—why did Mingi let your sister slip away? It seemed like a foolish decision. If you were in Mingi's shoes, you would never have given John the option to decide.

"I don't know." You stopped eating, lowering your head. "Can I ask you a question?" 

"Say it." 

"Why did you choose me?" 

He set the cup down on the plate before returning it to the table. Leaning in, he kept his gaze locked with yours. "Did you forget? It's your warlord's choice, not me." He leaned back, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. 

"Take a rest." These were the final words he said to you. In the days that follow, he didn't show up. A sense of unease begins to creep in. Did your question reveal to him that you hold no worth? Rumor has it that Mingi's brother has been spiraling into madness ever since that day, howling for your sister's presence daily and even issuing chilling death threats. Mingi, unable to tolerate his brother's insanity, decided to cast him out. 

But what about you? Would Mingi choose to banish you as well, or would he just kill you? Furthermore, just as you feared, your nation did nothing. It hasn't dispatched any forces or sought a truce. It truly regards you as if you no longer exist.

As the night deepened, you found yourself wide awake in bed, grappling with the relentless ache in your lower abdomen and a mind that refused to quiet. The ceiling loomed above you, a silent witness to your suffering. Oh, the agony of period cramps! Why must they invade your peaceful hours? You shifted restlessly, but the pain chased away any hint of drowsiness. Despite your efforts to cocoon yourself in warmth, it was futile. In the midst of your discomfort, you caught snippets of a hushed exchange between two maids nearby.

"Hey do you know that? The war lord would marry that princess!" 

"Oh reli?Poor Y/N. I heard she likes the war lord." 

"So, that means she is not useful anymore? See, they did nothing to save her."

"What would the King do? It's nonsense to send her back." 

"Maybe put her in jail?"

"Maybe just kill─" Their words were abruptly cut off as you swung open the door, making them shocked. 

"Bring me to the King." 

"But…" They looked at each other before shifting their gaze on the safety guards , not sure what to do.

"Please." You begged. "I promise I won't say you brought me there." 

—------

"Come in." Mingi commanded after hearing a knock from the door, still focusing on his work. But, no one spoke. 

"What─Y/N?" He lifted his gaze and found you poised in the center of the hall, draped in elegant white silk pajamas. As you glided toward him slowly, your pure and unassuming beauty made him gulp. There was no denying it; you were stunning. 

"Mingi…" You walked to him, slightly grabbing his forearm. "I'm in pain, could you help me?" 

"What pain?" 

"Menstrual cramps…" He gently pulled your hand away, his throat tightening as his fingers brushed against your skin. You noticed it. "Just call the doctor…"

"No." You grasped his hand, fingers weaving together. "There's still a pain in one spot." You guided his hand to rest on your chest, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and shyness. "Here." You whispered, biting your lips..

"Do you know what you are doing?" He suddenly sat up and shadowed you with his big frame. "Don't you─" "I know." You silent him with your words. "Just please." Upon hearing your begging, he could no longer bear his desire. He grabbed your thighs to pick you up, making you scream at surprise. 

Gently placing you down on the luxury sofa, he pecked at your lips. "Wait for me a while. Be a good girl and take off all of your clothes before I come back." A grin played on his lips as he turned to leave. "Oh yah, don't remove your underwear." 

You nodded and obeyed his words, lying naked on the sofa to wait for him. After a while, you saw him return with a towel. Cradling your thigh, he placed a soft towel under your body and removed your panties. 

"Did you have sex before?" 

"No." You muttered, shaking your head. 

"Then I'm the first one." Smirked, he crawled back to the sofa, kneeling in front of you. He was definitely big, making you worried if you could take it, even in your period.

"Don't worry. You can take it well." He leaned over you after wrapping up a condom, cupping your face with one hand, while another leading his manhood to your cunt. 

"Fuck…" you murmured while throwing your head at the back, opening and closing your mouth for better breathing. He filled you full literally, leaving no space left. 

"This is fucking good." His head landed on your neck, inhaling your lovely scent and dropping kisses. Wrapped by sticky blood was not that difficult for him to adjust, he felt satisfied. Although you squeezed him hard, he didn't feel pain thanks to your blood.

"Mingi…mingi…it hurts." You let out a whimper, tears welled up in your eyes. "It's okay, it's okay. Take it slow." He wiped away your tears, pecking at your nose, showering you with all his tender and love. You frowned as the period pain kept torturing your body, toes curling and nail drugging into his skin. 

"Relax." Grasping the armrest firmly, he pushed in painfully slowly. The way his tip kissed against your sweet spot made your head spin in pleasure. He kept reaching the same spot over and over again, fading away the pain in your body. Choppy moaning flew from your tongue as he continued to roll his hips into you, nothing left in your mind but only his name. 

His cock was so big, so long, making you could easily feel his every movement and twitch. You carved for more, no, you needed him deeper and harder, giving you endless pleasure to forget all the pain your family caused. 

"Please, I want more." "Want more what? Just say it." "Please please please. Harder and faster." "You beg for it. Don't regret it if I go too rough." Ｈe fold you up as a mating press, pressing your thighs as a support, shoving into you without any tender.  Every muscle in your body seems to be on the brink of being ripped apart, as waves of pain and pleasure crash over you in a relentless rhythm. He fucked you so fast, fast enough to ruin you. The skin slapping sound mixed with your high-pitched moaning, filling the whole room. 

"Ah!Fuck!" You swore, tears streaming down your cheek. Everything was just overwhelming. It felt as if your very awareness had been yanked from you, leaving the world around you a hazy blur. A parched sensation gripped your throat, the relentless moaning rendering your voice rough and strained. As he caught sight of you, a wave of tenderness washed over him; he slowed his pace, encircled your legs with his waist, leaned down, and tenderly brushed away the tears that streak your cheeks.

"Am I too rough?" He whispered against your skin, a warm breath landed on it. Wrapping your arms around his shoulder, you pulled him closer. "A little bit." 

"Then I'll be rough when you're okay with this. Maybe next time." He cupped your face, giving you a gentle kiss while kept sliding in and out, making your whole body move forth and back from his movement. He parted from your lips with a pop sound, meeting your gaze. 

"Will you stay with me, Y/N?" 

"If you don't kill me." 

"I won't kill you." He let out a chuckle before meeting your lips again. The sensation of that kiss was beyond words; was it love or merely desire? You were uncertain, yet one thing was crystal clear: you relished every moment. You savored the way he enveloped you in his warmth and tenderness. But then again, could it all be an illusion? Perhaps his passion was fueled solely by lust, ignited by your seduction. But none of that mattered, as long as you could stay alive.

"Damn it, I'm cumming." His thrusting lost its rhythm; a low growl left his lips. He chased his high and picked up the pace, making you moan with him. You could tell you were close too, a knot formed in your stomach, urging you to release it. 

"Mingi…I…" "Cum with me, dear." Throwing your head at the back, you panted heavily as the pleasure of climax took over your mind. With a swear, you reached your high before Mingi came all in his condom. 

Neither of you wanted to break free from the warmth of each other's arms, holding on even tighter. He placed soft kisses on your forehead and lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "How about we take a shower?" he suggested. You smiled and nodded, allowing him to lift you up and carry you to the bathroom.

"I didn't expect you to get laid with me in just one week." Mingi splashed the water over you after checking its warmth. You never imagined you could act with such daring. Yet, when confronted with the essence of life, the value of purity has become less significant.

You spun around, wrapping your arms around him, your voice a soft murmur against his chest. "Are you really asking me to stay by your side?" Deep down, you recognized the insincerity of your own words. You had no intention of sticking around; one day, you would walk away.

But is that true?

He gently nudged you back, wanting to meet your gaze, lowering himself to match your height.

"I won't lie." 

—-----

Days turned week, week turned months. It appeared that the commitment John made to you has slipped entirely from his mind. If only you had held on a little longer for him to save you, you may have just died already. He repeatedly insisted he would come to your aid, yet his words were empty; he took no real steps beyond sending letters. He never confronted the king or sought a solution. Instead, he merely crafted an illusion of affection.

"What is that?" Mingi buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaving a trail of kisses while licking the red marks he left on you. With John, he was a different person; he honored his word and cherished you like a precious gem, enveloping you in a warm embrace of love and kindness. However, there was one aspect that wasn't ideal:he was too horny sometimes.

"A letter from John." You placed your hand on Mingi's head, letting a moan as Mingi sneaked his hand to your clothed clit, rubbing it gently. "Stop, Mingi. I can't focus." 

"Tsk. I'm more important than him. Your husband needs you to help him." "We haven't got married." "Soon." He slid down your panties to the thighs, pulling up your dress to press his cock against your ass, rubbing it before aiming at your entrance. 

"Shit…"You couldn't help but let out a moan as he eased into you. "What did he say?" His pronunciation was somewhat inaccurate due to his heavy panting. "Oh baby, you're so fucking tight." His cock twitched each time your wall tightened, sucking him in to reach your deepest. 

"Ah fuck Mingi~He said…umm…he would come to save me…he…" You couldn't even say a complete sentence as he nestled so deep, the way he battered your spot drove you insane.

"Again?How many times has he said it?"He thrusted with each word, making you gasp. 

"Yah. That's bullshit. Mingi, you're too deep." 

"Just reply to him after you milk me dry." Mingi threw away the letter and brought you into a deep kiss. "No. Don't reply to him. I don't like you talking with him." Before you could say anything, he picked you up to the bed, shoving you as nothing, entering your cunt once again.

"Fuckkk."

—-----

This evening, John at last got your letter and hurried to the spot where it all unfolded.

"Y/N!" He dashed toward you as soon as he spotted you. "I feared I'd lost you forever."

"Hold it!" You took a step back, lifting your hand in warning. "Don't you dare cross that line, or I swear I'll end you."

"What are you saying? I came here to rescue you."

"Funny." You smirked. "Are you happy to marry my sister?" 

"It is a forced marriage and I don't like her! I only like you!" 

"Like me?" You raised your eyebrow, speaking up. "So that you choose my sister on that day and let me be a captive? You said you would save me and what I was waiting for was the news of your marriage to her! That's how you like me?" 

"No,no.Y/N. I was forced, I…" 

"Did you even try to save me?Tell me." You stopped his words, making him hesitant.

"Why can't you understand me? I truly love you." Rolling your eyes, a hint of annoyance evident. 

"Shut up. John!What you loved was only your reputation and status, not me." 

"Absolutely not, Y/N! Just trust me!" As he lunged toward you, Mingi's voice rang out, halting him.

"How dare you lay a hand on my wife?"

"Wife?" "Mingi?" The two of you exchanged astonished glances, one filled with fear and the other with joy. Mingi pulled you behind him, warning John with a low voice. 

"If you touch my wife, I'll definitely kill you now." 

"What? You married him?" 

"It's not your business, asshole. And now I'm talking with you. How dare you ignore me?" 

"That should be what I say! You rape her?! Y/N. Don't be afraid!I'm here for you." You rolled your eyes again, unable to hold your anger anymore and rushed to slap him, making him stand still. 

"I'm willing!I'm already died if I had waited for you to save me." 

"So you get laid with him?How can you live up to your country?"

"Don't talk nonsense to me!It is not my country! Go back to your country and tell them, war is going to break out." Gave him a death look, you turned around to hold Mingi's hand. 

"Let's go." You dragged Mingi to leave, not giving a glance back. John surveyed the scene before him, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he grappled with his emotions. Was it a sense of regret gnawing at him, or was it the fire of anger? Perhaps it was simply the anxiety of what lay ahead.

"Y/N." Mingi said. "Hm?"

"I promise I won't let you down, I'll do everything you want." 

"Why so suddenly?" 

"I'm serious." 

"Okay. Thank you. I love you." You left a kiss on his cheek. "My confession is serious, too." Smiled, he brought you into a passionate kiss.

Time flies, a conflict is imminent against your homeland. The corruption that had festered under your father's reign had taken root long ago, and soon, the tides of war would turn in your favor.

And that was Mingi's promise─he would do anything for you.

tag list:@angelsaway

[tojisun]

you're breaking my heart with him who we love and i absolutely adore it!!!! (っ◔︣◡◔᷅)っ ❤

may i ask what johnny (and maybe even simon?) would do if reader - after feeling left out for so long - finally decided to move on and/or find someone else? maybe she gravitated towards kyle and/or john bc they’re sweet and gentle with her and her affection is finally being reciprocated?

and please feel free to ignore this if it doesn't interest you. no pressure at all!

ohn my god no bc im so so glad so many of u are brainrotting w me again about 'him who we love' <33 i could not stop thinking about it on our way home yesterday

!! vague descriptions of an injury and an attack; mentioned callsign for reader but its not important!!; and its so so rambly so do forgive me ): // divider by @/plutism <3

id love to see this happen after that mission mishap with simon and the reader. it takes an explosion; an acrid burn peeling his flesh from his back and you sewing him together with such vitriolic desperation that ghost almost, almost, felt bad for the way he’s treated you; and an apology murmured from the softest lips he’s never really noticed for simon to—

feel his chest twinge.

the denial sits on the tip of his tongue, razor-sharp and blisteringly sour. it waxes, and simon heaves from something more than the pain burrowing deep into his being. he trembles from something that isn’t the agony he feels for returning to johnny as more of a ruined man who is unable to bury the fear of anything that is set ablazed.

(he remembered the day when he finally came to, groggy eyes peeling open before snagging a fracture of liquid orange—fire, his mind screamed, pulsing because: i’m not gonna be able to come back—and lurching out of the bed only for his body to collapse, and he fell with a choked yell, pain blooming from all of his synapses almost like a beast coiled deep into the fabrics of his very existence.

you ran into the room, yelling his name, and something about the way your voice was so raw with worry and anguish, simon was able to calm down. almost like a part of him realized he was safe now, with you; like it knew that you wouldn’t let anything happen to him, not then and not ever.

while you helped him back on the bed, he turned his head to try and see what it was that set him off—

simon’s breath hitched, his eyes straining as a lump lodged itself into his throat because it was—

the fire was—

it wasn’t fire.

there, bouncing off a glass vase, were serpentine rays of the afternoon sun rippling across the walls and bathing him in warm light.

“is there, uh, something you need?” you asked, trying not to hover but unable to truly leave him be.

simon swallowed, running his tongue on the back of his teeth, before murmuring, “shut the curtains.”

you turned to the windows, your brows furrowed, and simon clenched his teeth, bulldozing through the shame curling in the pit of his stomach and added, “please.”

you did what he asked without prodding, and simon swallowed down the rawness of his vulnerability, watching you with something pretty fluttering in his chest but he tried to stomp it down because—

he despises you, remember? so why…)

but the feeling bloats and simon spends the rest of the exfil in silence, watching you—he’s always been watching—but this time it’s without malice. instead, it’s with bubbling interest, pushing at the back of his mind, and rising ever so slightly like a tide.

he thinks of johnny, of the way mactavish had danced around the idea of something more with the three of you, and finds that he’s not too opposed to it anymore. instead, he looks forward to the change.

-

no sooner after the bird touches down on the base, price pulls you into his office. simon’s been wheeled into the sick bay and was stranded there, doctor’s orders, so he only learns about what happened later into the night when mactavish finds him, sorrow so heavily etched on his face.

“tavish?” he asks, ignoring the way his voice comes out as a croak. “what happened?”

“hyde’s gone,” johnny says, slumping into the seat beside simon’s bed and burrowing his head into his palms. “they apparently requested to be assigned somewhere else. cap’n won’t say where.”

“when?” he asks although simon can’t even feel himself move, his mind trying to reconcile the events that happened because there’s no way this occurred in the fly; not when, he remembers, you looked so resolute on the way back like you knew what was going to happen the moment you two returned.

like you had planned this for a while now—

“when’d they ask?”

johnny shifts, meeting his eyes, and simon’s heart crumbles at seeing the weight of johnny’s anguish painted on his face. he sniffles, and rasps out, “probably two months ago, s’what garrick said.”

two months ago—the same night when you managed to find a way to contact the base. the same night when simon’s realized what it must be that he feels for you.

(the same night when you’ve shyly asked him what about mactavish did he like.

“the six inches that you so intimately know,” he replied, cheeky and teasing.

you rolled your eyes, groaning at how disgusting he was, and he piped back how he’s a patient and has all rights to be as gross as he could.

you laughed, chucking a balled paper towel at him and simon remembers the way you looked so…at peace bantering with him that he couldn’t even fathom you were thinking of leaving.

what changed for you? what was it? why couldn’t you have waited—

why didn’t he realize sooner—

whywhywhy?)

notes: tbh i dont think hyde would gravitate towards price n gaz bc their affections for ghoap, particularly for ghost, was so intense. also, even before this ask ive always planned for hyde to leave. their feelings could potentially risk the team morale, which price even talked to them about in the prev works (mentioned in passing)!

[venusswhite]

A Thousand Years | Arcane Vi x Fem Leitora (Part. 1)

After losing everything, [Name] tries to rebuild her life. But what happens when a ghost with pink hair returns?

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Part. 2

“I will love you ’til the end of time” - Lana Del Rey

You were living with your parents when the war began. Your family lived in a small house on the outskirts of the city. Your mother sold trinkets, and your father repaired them. It was a simple, hard life, but it was a happy one.

Until that day…

It was nighttime when screams and gunshots were heard. The Enforcers were committing genocide in Zaun. You woke up startled, feeling your father lifting you from your makeshift bed on the floor, followed by your mother covering you with a cloth that went over your head.

Everything happened so fast. One moment, you were in your father’s arms amidst the chaos. The next, you heard gunshots too close for comfort and your father shouting:

“Darling!” — a term of endearment he used for your mother.

Curious and worried, you lifted the cloth covering your head, a decision you would regret for the rest of your life. You saw your mother, bleeding, beside your father, who was crying uncontrollably as he tried to stop the bleeding. She was struggling to breathe, each breath coming with more difficulty.

“Come on, Darling! Get up! We can’t give up now!” your father yelled, holding you in one arm while trying to lift your mother with the other.

“Dad?” you called out, crying and scared, noticing more Enforcers approaching.

Your father turned and, upon seeing them, threw himself to the ground to shield you. More gunshots rang out, and you felt a hot liquid hit your skin, followed by a burning pain in one of your arms. Then, everything went dark…

“Eyes on me!” I woke up dazed, seeing a tall, bearded man in front of me holding a blue-haired girl who didn’t seem much older than me.

“It hurts…” I complained, feeling something warm pressing against my arm. When I looked, I saw a pink-haired girl with a sorrowful expression wrapping a piece of cloth around my bleeding arm.

“Can you stand?” the man holding the child asked.

“I think… I can.” I stood up with help from the pink-haired girl.

“We need to move. There’s no time.”

“What’s going on? Where are my parents?”

The man sighed, his gaze saying more than his words:

“I’m sorry, child. I’ll take care of you, alright? Just trust me.”

He then held the older girl’s hand, and she extended her free hand toward me. Reluctantly, I took the pink-haired girl’s hand.

We walked for hours. Along the way, we encountered two boys: one taller and stocky, the other thin. Their expressions mirrored everyone else’s: sad, uncertain, and fearful.

The blue-haired girl was now awake, tear trails marking her dust-covered face. The pink-haired girl tried to stay strong, but fear was evident in her eyes. The two boys looked around in utter desperation.

After hours of walking, we arrived at a warehouse hidden behind a bar.

“Come here,” the man called, making me sit beside him. He removed the makeshift bandage from my wound, which was caked with dried blood and had an irregular hole.

“This will hurt a bit…” he warned, picking up a pair of tweezers.

The bullet was lodged in the wound. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to muffle my screams in my old coat. The other children watched in shock and sympathy.

“All done. Now keep the wound covered, alright?” he asked with a slight smile, and I nodded.

“I’m so sorry this happened to all of you. My name is Vander…”

One by one, everyone introduced themselves:

“[Name]”

“Claggor”

“Mylo”

“Violet… and this is my sister, Powder,” the pink-haired girl added, looking at her sister, who was clinging to her with trembling fear.

“Alright. I’ll get you water and food. Take care of each other. I’ll be back soon,” he said, leaving.

Silence filled the room. Vi and Powder sat on one of the beds, while Mylo and Claggor sat on another.

“Can I sit here?” I asked, approaching the two sisters.

“Sure,” Vi replied.

“How’s your arm?”

“It hurts a little, but it’ll pass. Do you think that man is really trustworthy?”

“I don’t know, but he’s our only hope.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

The rest of the time was spent in silence. Shock and fear still held everyone captive.

After some time, Vander returned with food and water for everyone.

“I also brought clean clothes and blankets.”

After eating, I went behind a curtain Vander had set up for us to change. I removed my bloodstained clothes and cleaned myself with a damp cloth, returning to an improvised bed beside a bunk where the sisters were already lying.

Despite my sadness and fear, sleep soon overcame me.

Years passed. The new life was hard, but gradually, everyone adjusted. At first, nightmares plagued us all, and it was normal to wake up in the middle of the night to someone screaming and crying. But Vander was always there to protect us.

He taught us everything we knew about Zaun, Piltover, and the monsters who had killed innocents.

Over time, the five of us grew very close and became inseparable. Though disagreements occasionally arose, we always protected each other — whether from others when trouble found us or from Vander when we got into mischief and knew he’d scold us.

In recent months, I began to experience something I had never felt before. I didn’t know what to call it, but I always felt it when Vi was near me. It was a warm sensation in my chest, as if nothing else mattered except her.

Confused, I decided to talk to the person I trusted most and who always helped me: Vander.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked, sitting on a chair in Vander’s bar.

“Of course, [Name],” he said, sitting beside me.

“Have you ever… liked someone?” I asked, unable to meet his eyes.

“Liked in what sense?” he asked suspiciously.

“Romantically, you know?” I glanced at him, seeing a small smile forming on his lips.

“Ah, of course I have. I lost her the night I found you all.”

“I’m sorry, Vander. I shouldn’t have asked. I really am.”

“It’s alright! Why are you asking about this?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I wanted to know what you feel when you like someone,” I finally admitted, nervously wringing my hands.

“Well… you feel like you always want to be with the person, to keep them safe and well. You might feel shy around them, want to spend the rest of your life with them. You feel many different things, [Name]. It’s not the same as liking a friend or family member. It’s a stronger, more intense feeling.”

“I see,” I replied thoughtfully. “And can a woman feel that way about another woman?”

“Ah, yes, of course. There are no rules for love, [Name]. Love is love, no matter what. But why are you suddenly asking all this?”

“It’s nothing! Just curiosity,” I quickly replied, avoiding the subject.

Before Vander could respond, Powder came running in:

“Vander, Vi won’t give me her candy!” the blue-haired girl said, hiding behind the man.

“That’s mine. You already ate yours,” I heard a familiar voice behind me, and instantly my heart raced and a strange feeling arose in my stomach.

“Powder, give it back to your sister. I saw you eating yours,” Vander said.

“That’s not fair,” the younger girl muttered, sulking as she handed the candy back to her sister.

Vi then sat beside me at the table, eating her candy.

“What were you two talking about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I quickly replied, throwing a pleading look at the older man not to say anything, making him laugh.

“Me and Mylo are having a dart-throwing competition. Want to join?” she asked, looking at me.

“Sure! Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and walked off, disappearing through the door behind the counter.

“It’s about Vi, isn’t it?” Vander asked quietly after she left.

“What? Was it that obvious?” I asked, worried.

“No, relax! I just know my kids,” he chuckled.

“This feeling is so strange, but it’s good at the same time. It’s so confusing, Vander.”

“You’re still young, [Name]. You don’t have to figure out what you feel right now. There’s plenty of time for you two to explore these feelings. Take it slow, explore them…”

“I will. Thanks for listening, Dad.”

“Anytime, [Name],” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Now you’d better go before Vi comes back and drags you there.”

As soon as Vander finished speaking, Vi appeared, calling for me. I got up, hugged him, and walked toward her.

“What were you two talking about?” she asked curiously.

“Nothing important,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, afraid she might find out.

She looked at me suspiciously but didn’t insist.

We arrived in the room where Mylo, Claggor, and Powder were, and soon the competition began. The dispute became intense between Vi and Mylo, both throwing the darts with force, their eyes locked on the target, determined to beat each other.

In the end, Vi won by just two points. Powder and I shouted, running to the pink-haired girl in celebration. She high-fived Powder, still cheering enthusiastically, and then picked me up, spinning and jumping around.

As she spun me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her face—her almost gray-blue eyes, her pink hair slicked back, the small freckles on her face… Everything about her fascinated me. Everything about her caught my attention and awakened an irresistible desire to never stop admiring her.

Maybe… maybe I was starting to like her.

Hey, everyone! I hate using “y/n,” so I’m going with [Name] instead. When Vander talked about the woman he loved, I imagined it being Vi and Powder’s mom 😭, but feel free to picture someone else if you’d like. Anyway, that’s it. Let me know if you spot any typos! Kisses!

[vivmaek]

POETRY FOR YOUR MOON SIGN

✰ my masterlist poems written by someone who has the same moon sign as you <3

☾PISCES☽

Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

“Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow – / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.”

June Jordan, You Came with Shells

“You came with shells. And left them: / shells. / They lay beautiful on the table. / Now they lie on my desk / peculiar / extraordinary under 60 watts.”

Toni Morrison, It Comes Unadorned

“it comes / Unadorned / Like a phrase / Strong enough to cast a spell; / It comes / Unbidden, / Like the turn of sun through hills / Or stars in wheels of song. / The jeweled feet of women dance the earth. / Arousing it to spring. / Shoulders broad as a road bend to share the weight of years. / Profiles breach the distance and lean / Toward an ordinary kiss. / Bliss. / it comes naked into the world like a charm.”

☾AQUARIUS☽

W.B Yeats, A Coat

“I made my song a coat / Covered with embroideries / Out of old mythologies / From heel to throat; / But the fools caught it, / Wore it in the world’s eyes / As though they’d wrought it. / Song, let them take it / For there’s more enterprise / In walking naked.”

W.B Yeats, The Lover Tells of the Roses in His Heart

“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, / The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, / The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, / Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. / The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, / With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold / For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.”

Louisa May Alcott, The Lay of a Golden Goose

“Oh! Be not rash,” her father said, / A mild Socratic bird; / Her mother begged her not to stray / With many a warning word. / But little goosey was perverse / And eagerly did cry, / “I’ve got a lovely pair of wings, / Of course I Ought to fly.”

☾CAPRICORN☽

John Milton, Sonnet 19

“When I consider how my light is spent, / Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, / And that one talent which is death to hide / Lodged with me useless, through my soul more bent / To serve therewith my Maker,”

Jala al-Din Rumi, The Guest House

“This being human is a guest house. / Every morning a new arrival. / A joy, a depression, a meanness, / some momentary awareness comes / As an unexpected visitor. / Welcome and entertain them all! / Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, / who violently sweep your house / empty of its furniture, / still treat each guest honorably. / He may be clearing you out / for some new delight. / The dark thought, the shame, the malice, / meet them at the door laughing, / and invite them in. / Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent / as a guide from beyond.”

Gwendolyn Brooks, a song in the front yard

“I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. / I want a peek at the back / Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed / grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.”

☾SAGITTARIUS☽

Lewis Carroll, A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

“In a Wonderland they lie, / Dreaming as the days go by, / Dreaming as the summers die: / Ever drifting down the stream – / Lingering in the golden gleam – / Life, what it is but a dream?”

Dante Alighieri, From “Inferno”

“It’s the pain / of the people down there that empties my / face. / It’s pity / that you’ve mistaken for fear. / And it’s the long way / that pushes us now. / Let’s go.”

Victor Hugo, Tomorrow, At Dawn

“Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, / I will set out. You see, I know that you wait for me. / I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain. / I can no longer remain far from you. / I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, / Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise / Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed, / Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as night.”

☾SCORPIO☽

Sarojini Naid, Autumn Song

“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, / The sunset hangs on a cloud; / A golden storm of glittering sheaves, / Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, / The wild wind blows in a cloud. / Hark to a voice that is calling / To my heart in the voice of the wind: / My heart is weary and sad and alone, / For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, / And why should I stay behind?”

Shel Silverstein, Dreadful

“Someone ate the baby. / It’s absolutely clear / Someone ate the baby / ‘Cause the baby isn’t here. / We’ll give away her toys and clothes. / We’ll never have to wipe her nose. / Dad says, “That’s the way it goes.” / Someone ate the baby.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Aftermath

“When the summer fields are mown, / When the birds are fledged and flown, / And the dry leaves strew the path; / With the falling of the snow, / With the cawing of the crow, / Once again the fields we mow / And gather in the aftermath.”

☾LIBRA☽

Maya Angelou, Caged Bird

“A free bird leaps / on the back of the wind / and floats downstream / till the current ends / and dips his wing / in the orange sun rays / and dares to claim the sky.”

Emily Dickinson, Good Morning – Midnight

“Good Morning – Midnight – / I’m coming Home – / Day – got tired of Me – / How could I – of Him? / Sunshine was a sweet place – / I liked to stay – / But Morn – didn’t want me – now – / So – Goodnight – Day!”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, My Heart and I

“You see we’re tired, my heart and I. / We dealt with books, we trusted men, / And in our own blood drenched the pen, / As is such colours could not fly. / We walked too straight for fortune’s end, / We loved too true to keep a friend ; / At last we’re tired, my heart and I.”

☾VIRGO☽

Robert Hayden, Those Winter Sundays

“Sundays too my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, / then with cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather made / banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. / I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking / When the rooms were warm, he’d call, / and slowly I would rise and dress, / fearing the chronic angers of that house, / Speaking indifferently to him , / who had driven out the cold / and polished my good shoes well. / What did I know, what did I know / of love's austere and lonely offices?”

Jack Kerouac, How to Meditate

“Thinking’s just like not thinking- / So I don't have to think / any / more”

William Faulkner, Study

“Muted dreams for them / for me / Bitter science. Exams are near / And my thoughts uncontrollably / Wander, and I cannot hear / The voice telling me that work I must, / For everything will be the same when I’m dead / A thousand years. I wish I were a bust / All head.”

☾LEO☽

Walt Whitman, I sing the Body Electric

“I sing the body electric, / The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,”

Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, / By each let this be heard, / Some do it with a bitter look, / Some with a flattering word, / The coward does it with a kiss, / The brave men with a sword!”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship

“A ruddy drop of manly blood / The surging sea outweighs, / The world uncertain comes and goes; / The lover rooted stays. / I fancied he was fled, – / And, after many a year, / Glowed unexhausted kindliness, / Like daily sunrise there. / My careful heart was free again, / O friend, my bosom said, / Through thee alone the sky is arched, / Through thee the rose is red; / All things through thee take nobler form, / And look beyond the earth, / The mill-round of our fate appears / A sun-path in thy worth. / Me too thy nobleness had taught / To master my despair; / The fountains of my hidden life / Are through thy friendship fair.”

☾CANCER☽

Shakespear, Sonnet 147

“My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease, / Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,”

Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night

“I have been one acquainted with the night. / I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. / I have outwalked the furthest city light. / I have looked down the saddest city lane. / I have passed by the watchman on his beat / And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. / I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet / When far away an interrupted cry / Came over houses from another street, / But not to call me back or say good-bye; / And further still at an unearthly height, / One luminary clock against the sky / Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. / I have been one acquainted with the night.”

William Blake, Auguries of innocence

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a wild flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour”

☾GEMINI☽

Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses

“Half the world I wandered through, / Seeking where such flowers grew. / Half the world unto my quest / Answered me with laugh and jest. / Home I came at wintertide, / But my silly love had died / Seeking with her latest breath / Roses from the arms of Death.”

John Keats, To Sleep

“Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords / Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; / Turn the key deftly into the oiled wards, / And seal the hushed Casket of my soul.”

Lord Tennyson, The Eagle

“He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, / Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls, / And like thunderbolt he falls.”

☾TAURUS☽

John Donne, Air and Angels

“Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, / Before I knew thy face or name; / So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame / Angels affects us oft, and worshipp’d be;”

Audre Lorde, Recreation

“my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me. / Touching you I catch midnight / as moon fires set in my throat / I love you flesh into blossom / I made you / and take you made / into me.”

Margaret Walker, Lineage

“My grandmothers were strong. / They followed plows and bent to toil. / They moved through fields sowing seed. / They touched earth and grain grew. / They were full of sturdiness and singing. / My grandmothers were strong. / My grandmothers are full of memories / Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay / With veins rolling roughly over quick hands / They have many clean words to say. / My grandmothers were strong. / Why am I not as they?”

☾ARIES☽

E.E Cummings, Love is more thicker than forget

“love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall / more seldom than a wave is wet / more frequent than to fail”

Mark Twain, Genius

“But above all things, / to deftly throw the incoherent ravings of insanity into verse / and then rush off and get booming drunk, / is the surest of all the different signs / of genius.”

Paul Laurence Dunbar, Ships that Pass in the Night

“Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; / I look far out into the pregnant night, / Where I can hear a solemn booming gun / And I catch the gleaming of a random light, / That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”

[beenbaanbuun]

tears - opposites attract

this is kind of short but i was thinking about jongho and i had to write something about him. i’m working on requests and i should be finished with a few of them soon 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

——————————————————————————

mingi…

that bastard has stolen your werewolf from you. it’s just for today and hongjoong promised seonghwa that the two of them—and probably mingi as well—would be back in time for dinner. he promised he’d let san know to make dinner as usual, but as of yet he hasn’t stepped out of his greenhouse once. something about being on the ‘precipice of a breakthrough!’ is what he told you that morning when he slipped out of bed far earlier than you or hongjoong, although a breakthrough of what, you’re unsure.

the first part of the morning was spent with san, trailing him around the house as he tidied and cleaned. you’d asked him what he’d be doing on his day off the following week; he told you he didn’t know but it’s almost certain that he wouldn’t be going home. he mentioned the price of train tickets being too expensive, but with the way he bowed his head to hide his expression, you could tell there was something more going on. you didn’t push, just like you wouldn’t want san to push. instead you stand there in a sad silence as san dusts the mantle piece in the living room.

“did you know this house is haunted?” you break the silence as you cast your gaze across the rug in the centre of the room. you can almost hear the crying that comes hand in hand with your ghost, the sound becoming almost comforting the more you hear it. it sounds strange to say that; to admit that you take comfort from someone else’s misery, but it’s the truth. the sound of his quiet sniffles has become synonymous with friendship and love and affection.

san turns to you with an eyebrow raised.

“well i’d have to assume so,” he takes a moment to look around the room, gesturing to all the antiquities and grandiose, “all this shit is bound to carry a few spirits, right?” the dust cloth he carries brushes past your arm as he takes it back to the mantle; you brush the filthy residue away with a grumble. “i don’t really care as long as they don’t come into my room. i’m far too tired to be dealing with ghosts whenever i try to sleep.”

you giggle at the image of the tearful man standing at the foot of san’s bed, staring at the butler with wet eyes and a frown. if san could see him, you have no doubt he’d take pity on the poor creature. as it stands, the idea is simply that; an idea.

“he might be,” you shrug, “but you wouldn’t know. the further he gets from his pelt, the less visible he becomes.”

the thought breaks your heart a little now that you dwell on it. he could be anywhere at any time and you just wouldn’t know it; does he ever feel ignored? or trapped? to have the only love you’ve ever received confined to a single room must be tough. it’s like an ultimatum that neither of you had a say in. a cruel trick from the universe to punish him for his spirit remaining here so long after his death. perhaps he yearns to move on, to find reprieve from the loneliness that haunts the walls of this house just as he does. the very house that has become your freedom must feel like a prison for him.

you wonder for a moment how long he’s been dead for, but the thought seems to manifest itself as a lump in your throat. he told you in his own words that he’d never known love before, just as hongjoong said the rug had been a family heirloom. you dread to think how many generations it has been passed through, each of them bringing even more loneliness and sorrow to the bear.

it makes sense now, why he cries. at first you figured it might be pain, that perhaps he still feels the weapon that led to his death lodged in his heart. in a way you suppose it is pain, and you have no doubt that it’s in his heart, but just not in the way you expected.

with a sigh, you leave the butler’s side to take a seat on the rug. you want to be close to him right now, for your own benefit as much as his. even though you can’t see him right know, you know he’s right there beside you. the shiver that runs up your arm is enough to confirm that fact. you don’t wipe it away or hide from in, instead basking in that icy cold feeling that makes your goosebumps blossom like the flowers in seonghwa’s greenhouse. you hope he can see them and know that even when he can’t be seen, he can still be felt.

you hope he knows you could never ignore him.

[pretzel-box]

It itched at him, an unrelenting torment that crawled under his skin, scratching at the very edges of his sanity. It burrowed deep into his mind, filling every quiet moment with a maddening buzz. Those eyes—your eyes—were like cold hands, prying at the walls he had built to protect himself, clawing at the fragile sanctuary he tried to keep intact.

Your presence was everywhere. It seeped into the endless puddles of stagnant water, glistened in the fractured reflections of broken mirror shards, and echoed through the lines of every file he had ever written. Each word was tainted by your memory, each letter a reminder of the truth he refused to confront. The truth he tried to forget.

You were like a ghost, haunting his every breath. No matter how far he ran, no matter how deep he buried his thoughts, you were there. Always. Watching. Waiting. It drove him to the brink, made him loathe the spaces you once occupied. He slashed through every picture of you with black ink, his hands shaking with rage, with sorrow—trying, so desperately, to erase you from existence. As if by smearing your face into oblivion, he could erase the pain too. He tore your name apart, shredded every letter like it was a piece of his heart. But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing ever was.

He burned everything you left behind, the flames consuming it all in a final act of destruction. Papers curling, blackening, disintegrating. He never thought paper could burn so beautifully—embers glowing, flickering in the dim light, rising up and falling like the pieces of you that lingered in his soul. The ashes scattered, but the ache remained, lodged deep in his chest, refusing to fade.

And as your file crumbled into dust, he realized with a hollow ache that no amount of fire, no amount of ink, could ever make you disappear.

You were still there, in the quiet spaces. In the silence after the flames. You would always be there.

And it would always hurt.

[h8ani]

Sasuke Uchiha x Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Warnings - fem!reader, slight overstimulation, fingering, oral (female receiving)

A/N - after months of having this in my notebook I finally finished it T.T I just wanna say thank you to everyone for liking part 1 & 2 of this and I hope you enjoy this just as much! I didn't expect to make multiple parts for this but I lowkey already have ideas for more parts if anyone is enjoying it enough to want more!

taglist! - @kkittycries @blackfire2013 @benkeibear @suyacho

join my taglist → here

Part One → Part Two → Part Three → Part Four

The door of your apartment slams as you trudge in, the sloshing of your shoes, soaked with the rain from the downpour that just drenched you outside. You dart for the couch, grabbing the closest pillow and quickly shoving your face into it and letting out a scream that would have alerted the neighbors in some way if it wasn’t muffled.

All day something has gone wrong, if it wasn’t one thing it was surely the next. It’s as if the gods above were playing games with you just to see how much you could handle before you undoubtedly snapped. 

Waking up late wouldn’t have been such a bother if it wasn’t for the meeting with the Hokage you had. You had a performance review about the latest mission you were just on and no shock to you, it brought up how bad of a screw-up you must’ve been because all that was said was everything you did wrong. You were reprimanded for that along with your tardiness to the meeting, on top of that you never ate breakfast because of the rush you were in. Deciding after the meeting ramen would be the perfect meal to drown in your sorrows and finally get something in your system, only to realize that being in such a rush you absentmindedly forgot your coin purse. Deciding to finally leave and go back home, Mother Nature wanted to make sure you got there quickly and started a downpour just for you. Being soaked from head to toe was something every girl just needed, and so, here you are. 

The frustration building inside of you makes every inch of your body feel like it might explode, tears threaten to spill past your bottom lashes and onto your cheeks but you refuse to cry and give in to the absolute shit show of a day you’ve endured. Your throat constricts while you take a deep breath, as you exhale the subtle sound of your doorknob twisting is heard, the door opens slightly, and before you can think your fingers fumble with your kunai, quickly throwing it and seeing it lodge into the wall next to the door. 

Sasuke walks in to stop as he sees you, glancing at the kunai and then back at you. His eyes scan your body, seeing you sopping wet with a puddle of water soaking your once dry carpet, you were frowning at him and your eyes were slightly red even as you blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “Bad day?” He comes inside, locking the door once it's been shut. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Your voice was small yet still croaked as you spoke. He nods, not saying anything more as he makes his way towards you, hands gripping your wrist and tugging you back towards your room. Immediately you start to pull your wrist back albeit weakly. “Not that kinda bad day.” 

“I figured as much.” He shrugs his jacket off and tosses it on your bed, if you had the energy you’d scoff at how he’s making it seem as if this was his room. 

“No I mean-”

“Can you shut up for a second?” He interjects while waving a hand in your direction, ignoring the glare you shoot at him as he walks to your bathroom. He disappears for a moment until you hear the shower turn on. Once again making himself feel at home. You open your mouth to call to him when he reappears, hand beckoning you over.

Against your better judgment, you move towards him, feet seemingly having a mind of their own, and follow him into your bathroom. The steam that was already filling the small bathroom gave you a warm hug of warmth, not realizing how cold you were from the rain. A content sigh leaves your lips accepting the new damp warmth you felt. 

“Wanna tell me what got you like this?” He asks while pulling his shirt off and dropping it at your feet. Confusion crosses your features as he continues to undress in front of you, the heat from the steam leaving and going straight to your face, you jerk your head away from him as you mumble a half ass answer about how it’s raining outside. You hear the rest of his clothes fall against the tile floor as he discards them all, quickly kicking them to the side so your wet ones don’t drip on his. 

“How are you not wet? The weather outside is awful.” You ask, head still turned away to not look at him, still unsure as to why he decided to strip. It’s not like you haven’t seen him but the close proximity and eye contact are still something you weren’t used to. 

“It’s called an umbrella, the clouds were dark, and it was obvious it was going to rain. You’d have to be blind to not see that.” You snap your head to glare at him which turned to sudden wide eyes as he was fully naked in front of you. Your eyes wander from his chest down to his toned stomach and venture further until- “Eyes up here.” He smirks when he sees the flush of your face. 

“Why am I even in here?” 

“We’re going to shower, you need to relax.”

“I- we- huh?” You stutter out, the gears in your head coming to a halt while you look at him as if a second head grew out of his neck. Sasuke rolls his eyes and slips his fingers under the bottom of your top and tugs it off and over your head, it drops to the floor with a loud splat sound from the rainwater soaked in it. 

“I said you needed to relax, now shut up, stop asking questions, and take your pants off.”

“God you’re such a-”

“Yeah whatever, just hurry up before the hot water runs out.” 

Once again, against your better judgment, you listen to him, your clothes are off and discarded with your shirt, a small pool of water creating around it. Soon you’re stepping into your shower first, the heat of the water relaxing your sore and aching body and warming you up in an instant. You audibly sigh and allow your eyes to close just feeling the water beat and fall down your chest like a steady stream. 

Sasuke is soon after you, hands finding a place on your waist, the subtle squeeze making your body freeze up as if the water had turned frigid. “Relax, Jesus it’s just me.” Sasuke says, you can feel the huff of his breath on the back of your neck which does nothing to calm you down. 

Relax? It’s just me? That’s exactly the reason why you couldn’t, the sole fact that if you two weren’t fucking then what was the point of being here? What was the point of this? This was too nice for him, too intimate. 

His hands slide from your waist up to your shoulders and feel his thumbs press down and slowly rub, easily bringing you back from your thoughts. “You’re tense.”

“When am I not?” You joke, amusement evident as it was so obvious you’ve never been a relaxed person. The expectations are always so high for you even from such a young age, even now with so many responsibilities on your plate the urge to sleep and ignore it all is so heavy. 

Sasuke doesn’t respond, thumbs pushing down deeper into your muscles massaging out all of the tenseness you have. You lean back against his chest, eyes shutting once again and letting a sigh escape your lips. His hands go down your back keeping the pressure to work out the rest of your body. “Fuck..” You whimper.

“There we go..” His fingers dig into your lower back finding the place where you melt into him, you lean your head back against his shoulder and sigh contentedly. 

“Thank you for this.” You say quietly, barely heard over the stream of water coming from your shower head. It was a soft moment, both of you two never uttering anything other than foul comments to one another, always making sure the next word hurt more than the last, yet here you were; eyes closed and guard down against the chest of someone you couldn’t stand to look at when you were kids. 

“Shut up.” His chest rises as he scoffs before dipping down to kiss your shoulder. “You looked a mess when I got here.” 

Ignoring his comment, you bend forward to turn the heat up higher, you soon turn around to face him, his hair is damp and his cheeks are flushed from the steamy air. He didn’t have his signature grimace that always laid upon his face, being this close where the tension wasn’t filled with anger was…different. 

His hands made their way back to your waist, squeezing the soft plush of your skin. The air; although thick with vapor, was brittle as a crisp autumn leaf, so fragile it could break if you breathed, and if it didn't snap you felt like you just might. Neither of you speaks, you fumble with your fingers, unsure if you should lay them on him as he has his on you. 

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his hand slid to the back of your neck tugging you closer, a quiet “Come here.” leaving his lips before he was on yours. 

Unknowing if it’s because of the intimacy of being in the shower together and the vulnerability it gave off, but the kiss emitted every little bit of exposure you felt. His hands held onto you tightly while yours lay upon his chest. Collectively, a sigh left you both; unspoken words left between you both and died on each other's tongue.

~~ 

You feel the cool sheets against your warm skin as you plop yourself on your bed, the fluffy pajama bottoms you now have on bringing an added level of cozy you oh so needed to your day. You finally felt relaxed; cold, damp clothes soon forgotten as well as the ravenette who stood behind you. Your mind was mulled over with the sudden leisure that you couldn’t stop the squeal that escaped you when Sasuke’s cold hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you down the length of your bed. You turn to look at him when his lips come crashing into your own, soft lips pressing hard while you melt into his touch, kissing Sasuke has started to feel familiar, a comfort in kissing his lips and knowing how the other works. 

One of his hands comes up to take place at your throat, slightly squeezing to elicit a small whimper from you. Just like you feeling familiarity in his lips he feels the same in knowing just how you’d react, feeling just as if he knows a part of you. His hand slips to the back of your neck pulling you closer, tongue slipping in and claiming your mouth for his own. His kisses become hungrier, more passionate. Fingers tilting your chin up so your throat is now exposed, he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and descends further down your neck. You become putty to his mouth as he finds your sweet spot, another whine leaves your lips only igniting him further.

His hands leave your neck and grip onto your waist pulling you to him and grinding your hips into his erection. Every whine and whimper that leaves your mouth sends every impulse in him into overdrive. “Still having a bad day?” He breathes out, lips ghosting over the sensitive mark he just created.

“It could be better.” You giggle, legs instinctively pulling him even closer to your clothed core. He smirks against the skin of your neck while hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, you lift your hips allowing him to tug them off. He shifts himself down until he’s on his knees at the foot of your bed, he tugs you down to the edge of your bed until he’s at eye level with your already glistening core. Strong hands push your thighs until they’re pressed against your chest, a low growl reverberating in his chest. You’re this wet just from a few simple kisses, how pathetic. 

His head dips down and licks through your slick, lips attaching to your clit and sucking causing your hips to buck in his mouth. He chuckles, the vibration pulsing your entire lower half as your hand shoots to his still-damp hair, your fingers thread and slightly tug while he circles his tongue. A quiet moan leaves your lips causing his eyes to shoot up and look at you, he sees your eyes closed; his tongue relieving you of all your stressors from the day. The small whimpers you let out only make his gaze darker, hungrier for you. 

“I know you can be louder than that.” He says as he pulls back. Finally, you look down at him and see his black eyes boring into you, he sees your eyes glossy and lips slightly parted, he hasn’t even made you cum yet and you’re already like this, but that doesn’t stop the pout that forms on your face. Your hand tightens its grip on his hair and tugs his face closer to your heat. 

“Keep going-”

“Be louder, I want to hear you.” His words are demanding, making you jut your lip out in a pout once more. “Be louder or I’ll leave.” You huff a breath and look away from him only to feel a quick slap to your thigh causing you to yelp and snap your head right back to him. No words being said between the both of you but you know it was a threat. His head dips back down sinking further as he keeps his eyes trained on yours while running his tongue through your slick core, his thumb putting just the right amount of pressure to evoke a slurry of curse words from your mouth. Your hips move and grind against his tongue, your hand tugging roughly at his hair causing him to groan into you. Thumb now leaves your clit and quickly replaces it with his mouth, his skillful tongue circling and flicking, having you clench down on nothing. Your whimpers turn to moans and now his name is the only thing you’re able to say. 

You orgasm without warning, fingers tightening even more in his locks while your thighs trap him. A choked-out moan is heard loudly in his ears, another groan vibrates your body as he laps up all of your juices, his skillful tongue sending shivers up your spine as he doesn’t pull away while you ride your high. 

Once the oversensitivity set in you squirm in his grip, legs planting down to try and push away from him but his arms quickly hook under your thighs and spread you wider for him, giving him even more access to your pussy. His lips suck harshly around your clit extracting a high pitch squeal from you. “Sasuke!” Your once woven fingers in his hair were now pushing him away, the oversensitivity having tears prick your waterline, it was beginning to feel too much, too much pleasure building up right after you just came. 

Sasuke was eating you like he was starved, the lewd and wet sounds coming from where his mouth connected with your pussy were all that could be heard. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten again and your legs tremble, a silent indicator you were so close only minutes after your first orgasm. 

As if he could read your mind and body so easily, Sasuke pushes two fingers in and pumps them at a quick pace, curling them as he does so. You’re shaking, his fingers hitting your g-spot again and again and again-

Your eyes roll back while you cum, your body tensing up and your head being thrown and pressed back into your mattress as you moan loudly. Once your body loosens up and legs go limp he finally pulls away. 

The bed dips down as he climbs up your body, a cheeky smile plastered on his face when he sees the fucked out look on yours, a sense of pride filling his chest up to know he got you like this just from his tongue alone. Your eyes settled on his, trailing down to see his lips and chin coated in your slick. 

Your chest rises with heavy breaths, eyes weary as you slowly blink up at him, the subtle tint of your face changing when catching his own eyes already looking down at yours. 

His eyes scan your face, seeing how you divert your own away from him while trying to regain your breath. It’s funny, he did all the work and you’re the one out of breath. Sasuke fits himself more comfortably in between your legs, laying more of his weight on you as you both just relax in silence. 

He can’t help but look at you in a different light, when he first came over months ago he didn’t know what got ahold of him. He was the last person you wanted to see and vice versa, but that didn’t stop him from barging in, he was always watching the village in one way or another, whether it was from word of mouth by someone or when he could sneak away, somehow whenever the latter happened you were always one of the first people he happened to catch sight of. 

It was annoying. 

He felt the irritation run up his neck when he saw you, the way you’d walk almost as if your nose was in the air, thinking you were better than him, better than everyone around you. Just seeing you from a distance he couldn’t stand, it’s like the same little girl he remembered back then was still in his head, glaring at him and calling him all the insults under the sun whenever he jabbed at you, but when he finally saw you he couldn’t help but be a little happy to see that same signature scowl that appeared on your face. 

That first night he didn’t even come to fuck you, that was the last thing that he would have thought would happen, but when push literally came to shove against that damn wall his body took over, all the pent-up frustrations between you two over the years hitting the breaking point. 

He can’t lie and say nothing has changed since he started coming over more frequently. He wasn’t supposed to be sneaking back into the village, he wasn’t meant to be seeing you so much, having moments like this. It’s easier to say he doesn’t give a damn about you, that it’s just the sex that keeps bringing him back, but when he does something so out of character as he did today he can’t help but feel like he should’ve just fucked you and left; pushed your bad day to the side, ignore your borderline broken figure and used you to his liking. He’s no nurturer, far from it yet he still worked your sore muscles out and had you cum till you were dizzy. 

“This won’t happen again.” He thinks to himself. He can’t come back, he won’t. This will be the last time you see him and he sees you. The last time he feels your soft skin against him, fingers dancing across his back and playing with the hair while you both calm down. The last time you see his eyes staring back at you, different emotions each time and never knowing which one it is. 

He’s convinced himself of it, never again.

But when you bat your pretty little eyes like you’re doing right now he can’t help but mentally curse himself as he finds himself leaning down to press his lips against yours. 

He knows he’s going to come back.

He knows it and he can’t help but hate you for it. 

networks: @enchantedforest-network / @bitchcraftinc / @ghostqueue

[alwaysmicado]

Next Month

1.5k / Steven Grant x f!reader / 18+

Summary: Your period arrives—a painful reminder of another lost month, another lost chance after trying so hard. Thankfully, you find strength and comfort in your loving husband, Steven. Warnings: period after ttc, emotional hurt/comfort A/N: I wrote this at 4 am after my cramps woke me up. Trying to conceive is hard. My heart goes out to all of you who are going through this too. It'll all work out somehow. It just has to. 🤍

The day had started out like any other—with a hint of hope, one that you’d barely dared to grasp, that maybe, just maybe, this time things would be different.

But as you sat on the toilet that morning, staring at the too-familiar streak of red, the hope slipped away from your grasp, and the weight of disappointment settled on your chest like a stone.

Another month. Another failed attempt.

You’d been trying with Steven for what felt like forever, and each time your period arrived, it felt like a cruel reminder that something was broken. Maybe in you. Maybe in fate. It gnawed at your heart, an overwhelming ache that mirrored the physical pain already coursing through your body.

The cramps were relentless today, twisting in your abdomen, spreading to your legs, to your back, as if punishing you for even thinking that this month might be different. You clutched the counter, willing the pain to subside, but it lingered. Sharp, biting.

The blood, the cramps, the emotional toll—it was all too much. And yet, somehow, you had to go to work, put on a professional face, smile, and be polite, even though every part of you wanted to scream and break down.

The hours dragged by in a haze of discomfort and forced pleasantries, you felt nauseous, no change of position in your chair offered any relief, every trip to the bathroom caused you to tear up, and Steven’s sweet text messages pierced your heart. 

By the time you got home, your nerves were raw, your body and mind too exhausted to keep up the pretense any longer. Your muscles ached, your heart heavier than it had ever been, and a pit of dread sat deep in your stomach. You’d thought about calling Steven, but what would you say? “It didn’t happen again.” It wasn’t fair to keep burdening him with your fears.

He was so hopeful, so full of love.

But as you stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot you weren’t even sure you had the energy to eat from, something in you broke. The spoon clattered against the side of the pot, your hands trembling, and suddenly, hot tears streamed down your face.

The sobs came out of nowhere, jagged and painful, and you leaned forward, bracing yourself against the counter, shaking with the force of your grief.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

The hope, the crushing disappointment, the anger, the heartache—it was demoralizing. Why couldn’t your body do what it was supposed to? Why? Why couldn’t you give Steven the one thing you both wanted so desperately? 

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear the soft sound of Steven’s keys dropping into the dish by the door. You were too lost in your sorrow, the ache that felt like it was swallowing you whole.

“Love,” Steven’s voice, gentle and concerned, cut through the storm of your sobs. His hand was warm on your back, but you flinched, too raw to be touched just yet. “Oh, love, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t ask if it was your period. He didn’t need to. You’d gone through this cycle enough times together for him to know. He moved around you, his face soft with concern, his dark eyes wide and gentle as he stepped closer.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand, but more kept falling. “I’m so sorry, Steven. I’m–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. The words lodged in your throat, thick and bitter.

Steven was there before you could crumble any further, his arms wrapping around you with a gentleness that felt like safety, like home. He didn’t squeeze too tightly, knowing how fragile you felt, but he held you close enough to ground you, to remind you that you weren’t alone.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he whispered, his voice a soft balm against the wound in your heart. His words were warm, like the honey you often stirred into tea, the kind that coats your soul when you need it most. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. Not to me. Never for this.”

But you felt like you had to.

The weight of every missed chance, every negative test, hung heavy around your entire being, and in this moment, it seemed unbearable. The tears kept coming, no matter how much you tried to stop them, and you buried your face in his chest, your shoulders shaking as you let it all out.

Every negative test, every pregnancy announcement from friends, every piece of baby clothing you’d already picked out, every article you’d read about fertility, every night you’d cried yourself to sleep—every piece of heartbreak you’d been holding inside—it all came pouring out in his arms.

Steven held you, his hands moving in slow circles on your back, wishing he could soak up your pain, wishing he could carry more of the burden for you. “It’ll be alright,” he murmured. “It will, love. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts. I’m sad, too, but we’ll get through this. Together. We always do.”

His words were soft, tender, and you could feel the love in every syllable. He wasn’t frustrated or disappointed, not in you. That much was clear. He wasn’t angry that things hadn’t worked out again. He was here, holding you through the storm like he always did, trying his best to calm your racing thoughts.

“But what if…what if we can’t?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled back just enough to look at him through wet lashes. “What if something’s wrong with me, Steven? What if it never happens? Time is ticking and I—what if I can’t have a baby? It’s not fair and I’m so sick of this. What is wrong with me?”

His brow furrowed, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away your tears. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly, his voice so full of certainty that it made you ache. “Nothing. And even if—if—it doesn’t happen the way we want, we’ll still have each other, yeah? We’ll find our way. I promise. I married you because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You. Not the possibility of a baby. You.”

You shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “But I want to have a baby with you,” you whispered. “I want a little toddler running around, with your smile and curious eyes, telling me stories about Egypt before they can even pronounce the words. I want a child who grows into someone who makes the world a better place just by existing in it, just like you do. The world needs more of you, Steven, and I—I want that for us. A child to love. A family.”

“Sweetie, I want all that too.” Steven’s gaze softened, his eyes full of unshakable love. “Whenever I imagine it, I see a bright little girl with a big smile and beautiful eyes just like yours, tugging on my sleeve and asking a million questions about everything. I’m sure my heart would explode from cuteness. And there’s nothing I’d love more than to see you being the incredible mum I know you’ll be.”

His hands cradled your face as he spoke, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “But that doesn’t mean I’m missing something now. You already give me everything I could ever need. Every day.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “I know it’ll all work out somehow. And until then we just keep trying and being happy that we have each other, yeah? All I care about is you, love. I’m with you, no matter what. Always.”

His words sank deep into your chest, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the edge of it softened just a little. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his lips brushing softly against your ear in a kiss so gentle it sent a shiver through you, making your heart ache in the sweetest way. “It’ll be okay. I can feel it. Next month—next month will be our time.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at him, your eyes meeting his. Despite everything, his optimism was contagious, and for a moment, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter.

You smiled at him, and in his eyes, you saw a glimmer of the future you both so desperately wanted.

-----

Moon Knight Masterlist / AO3

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 2

Part 1

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- Angst 🖤

Inspired by Wires by Athlete

Tw: hospitals, injury, Spencer near death

Your feud with Spencer feels trivial after you’re both shot

The first time you wake, you’re in a panic. The ceiling of the trauma unit is speeding by in a blur while people around you push the stretcher. There’s an immense amount of pressure and pain in your shoulder which is probably why you’re screaming. It’s also probably why every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“They’re FBI agents! Get them in here now,” somebody screams.

You black out again and come to as you’re being moved onto a table. The room sways as you crash harshly into the metal surface.

“Spencer…” you murmur as one of the surgeons places a mask over your face. All goes black with shouts and medical equipment blaring in your ears.

-

The room comes into view in a blur. You try to glance around but the figure standing over you is indistinguishable.

Finally your brain catches up to your eyes and you see JJ and Rossi at your bedside.

“What happ…” your voice gives out.

“You were shot in the shoulder. It was a flesh wound, they got the bullet out,” Rossi says and places his hand on yours.

You allow Rossi’s father-like comfort to wash over you before panic seized you once more. The room stirs and your stomach drops as the reality of the situation kicks in.

You wince and lay your head back, it feels like someone placed a led weight in your shoulder. Then it comes back to you.

“Reid, what happened to Reid?” You gasp.

“He’s still in surgery,” JJ answers. Her tone tells you it’s bad.

“How long?”

“You’ve been here about 4 hours, Spencer’s been in surgery for 3,” Rossi informs you.

“Is he…” tears well in your eyes. He took a bullet for you. Both bullets should have hit you. Why would he do that?

“He’s in critical condition,” Rossi’s voice is filled with sorrow. The words are a blow to your abdomen, drawing all of the oxygen from your lungs.

“No,” you whisper and try to sit up. Guilt creeps its way in and claws its way down your spine.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” JJ reassures you. You shake your head.

The doctor enters and begins checking you out and encouraging you to rest. You argue that you can’t rest until you know your coworker is okay.

While the gesture was nice, whatever pain medicine he pushes into your IV sends you back into darkness before you can stop it.

-

The next time you wake, you feel more normal. As though waking up from regular sleep instead of from passing out in shock.

Sunlight filters through the massive glass windows which overlook the city. Your concept of time is non existent but at least you only have one IV in you now instead of three.

“You’re awake,” Garcia smiles and stands. Her usual bouncy optimism is missing in her words. She looks exhausted.

“Did he…” you don’t even know what to ask.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s critical but stabilized,” she answers in a hushed tone.

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracks.

“Why are you apologizing? You were shit too,” she softens her voice and pushes your hair back from your face,

“That bullet should have hit me, I don’t know why he got in the way,” you sniffle.

“That bullet might have struck you in the head,” she raises her eyebrows like you’re being ridiculous. She was right though, your head is right at the same height as his neck.

“He couldn’t have known that,” you reason.

“No but he instinctively would have protected anybody on this team. He didn’t have to think about it,” she tries not to cry.

“I know,” you nod.

Just then Hotch and Prentiss enter the room, smiling to see you awake.

“Hey,” Prentiss hugs you gently.

“What are the doctors saying?” You ask anyone out loud.

“They’re hopeful you’ll only need to be monitored for another 24 hours,” Hotch informs.

“I meant about Reid,” you say.

“The bullet entered the front of his neck and lodged into his trachea. It was touch and go for a while but they were able to remove the bullet and reconstruct the damaged airway,” Hotch starts.

“He went into respiratory distress this morning and had to get intubated. He’s on a ventilator now. That’s why he’s still critical. He’s not breathing fully on his own and they’re trying to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs,” Garcia adds.

“I…” you lip quivers and tears start to fall. You’re horrified for him. “He must be so scared,” you whisper.

“He’s sedated, he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Prentiss says softly.

Of course he’s sedated, he wouldn’t be awake and intubated.

You’re about to say something when one of the ICU’s alarms begins to blare.

“Code blue, room 3489,” you startle and sit up as the three of them rush out of the room. Nurses and doctors take off down the hall.

“Wait!” You cry.

Code blue- someone is in respiratory or cardiac arrest. You want nothing more than to get out of the damned bed but you’re hooked up to an IV and an alarm.

Garcia nods and throws her hand over her mouth before darting back to you.

“It’s not him, it’s not Reid,” she huffs a relieved crying sort of laugh and hugs you.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t deal with losing someone on the team. It would destroy you.

You couldn’t imagine going to work and not competing with him to be the smartest in the room. It was annoying but god right now you missed it. You even missed his dad’s and his attitude and snarky remarks. You were so mad at him for taking that step in front of you. Yet you just wanted to be there at his bedside like the rest of the team.

“I want to see him,” you tell her.

“You will. You just have to focus on getting your strength back first,” she says. Garcia had a way of saying things that was so comforting.

The rest of that day was spent sleeping and getting a play by play of Reid’s progress.

-

The following morning you were up on your feet and able to walk around perfectly fine. Your arm was in a sling to prevent excess movement on your shoulder but for the most part you felt fine.

You were eager to go see Reid, though you weren’t sure why. The team had warned you that it wouldn’t be easy to see him hooked up to the breathing tube and other wires. You should be reluctant. But you just needed to show yourself that at the very least, he was still alive.

Stepping into his room was jarring and you froze in the doorway. His entire body was limp, his head flopped to the side, and his hair pulled from his face with a rubber band. He looked everything and nothing like himself.

He had drains and tubes coming out of his lungs and out of the hole in his throat, the tube down his throat forced his Adam’s apple to be protruded out, and you couldn’t count the amount of medication drips he was hooked up to.

His usual dark circles were deeper, more purple, his skin pale, and a feeding tube was inserted into his nose. You swallowed hard and took a slow step closer to him. He was always so animated and full of life, yapping constantly. To see him so motionless, so silent… it was devastating.

Morgan was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head down next to Reid. He had fallen asleep. Reid was like his little brother, he hadn’t left his side. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night of the shooting.

You could see the breathing machine pumping, inflating his lungs for him. You could hear a low hum and what sounded like fluid in there. Occasionally it looked like he would cough or gag around the tube.

“It’s normal, his body isn’t used to there being a tube there,” the nurse informs you as she injects something into his IV line.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“He’s not aware of it if it does,” she gives you a sympathetic smile.

His fingers twitched momentarily but it was the only sign of movement.

You pull a chair up next to him and sit slowly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You physically feel your heart break seeing him like this. Seeing any one of your team like this would devastate you. But Reid… you had a complicated but reluctantly understanding with. He was more like you than anyone else there. Seeing him often felt like looking in a mirror, seeing him hurt was too much.

“The machine is only doing 20% of the breathing for him. The fluid has reduced a lot. This is progress,” Hotch says somberly. You nod and wipe a tear.

You wished Reid could talk. He’d give you a million different probabilities of how this could play out along with a run down of what all of the equipment did. He’d be realistic but you had a feeling he’d give you hope. Maybe though, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You touch his hand, and trace his fingers delicately. You wished you could help him. Wished you could do something.

Garcia rubs Morgans back and gestures for him to follow her. The team leaves you to have a minute alone with him.

“Why did you take that step?” Is the first thing you say through tears. “That was so stupid,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to be the genius,” you breathe out another tear fueled laugh.

You wrap your hand over his and squeeze.

“This team needs you, please just keeping fighting Reid,” you implore him. “Your mom will be here tonight. It took some strings to pull but Garcia has her on a plane now.”

“I’m so mad at you. You brilliant asshole,” you can’t help but to smile.

And then, you don’t know why you do it. He would hate it surely, but you stand up and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair looks ridiculous by the way,” you whisper and push the baby hairs back.

You start to think that maybe if you hadn’t holstered your gun, Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to step in front of you to take the shot. That’s realization hits you like a ton of bricks and forces you to sit back down.

You were really starting to feel like it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” your voice cracks and you squeeze his hand a final time before leaving the room.

“Let’s get you home,” JJ says and grabs your uninjured arm.

-

Days passed, days passed and you didn’t want to leave your house. You listened to the doctors and primarily did bed rest, but you were ancy.

Spencer had been taken off of sedation last night and was becoming more lucid. You would get to see him tonight. Garcia says he’s improving quickly.

The last few days passed in a blur, the same way a hummingbird passes by a kitchen window. You rub your arms and sip your coffee. You don’t know how what you’re going to say to him.

Part of you still warred with guilt, with the way that technically you guys didn’t even like each other. Yet something had changed. Something gave way that night. You couldn’t explain it but you needed to talk to him. Maybe you needed to know whether or not he blamed you.

Did you make a bad call by holstering your gun?

You didn’t know. Hotch still hadn’t debriefed you or taken your statement of events.

Night falls and you step into Spencer’s hospital room hesitantly. You had been haunted by the state in which you saw him last time, the trauma of it all clawing at your heart.

To your surprise, his bed is propped up and there’s a book in his hand. You smile with delight at the way he can’t help but attempt to lean forward over the book like always.

“Wow,” you say. It’s remarkable how much better he looks. Still injured, still disheveled, but so much better.

He waves at you with that flat smile he favors.

“He can’t talk right now,” Morgan informs. “But he wrote down a list,” he holds up a stack of books.

“Of course Dr. Reid wakes up from a coma and wants to read Dostoevsky,” you smile.

He doesn’t return the sentiment but grabs what appears to be a white board and marker. He starts scribbling before holding it up to you.

“How are you?” It reads.

“Sore, but alive,” you want to say ‘thanks to you’ but you refrain. Instead you take a seat on the opposite side of the bed as Morgan.

“Well now that you’re here, I think I’m going to go home and rest,” Morgan sighs and stands.

“You’ve only been here a week,” you joke. “Get out of here, we’ll call you if anything changes.”

Spencer starts scribbling on his board again.

“I’m sorry,” it says in his signature hand writing.

“For what?” You ask softly and adjust in your chair to look in his bloodshot eyes.

“That you still got hit,” it says simply and he frowns.

“Don’t apologize! You saved my life,” you respond exasperatedly. “We almost lost you Spencer. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t realize it but you start pacing. “I was so mad at you for stepping in front of me. That bullet should have been for me,” you gesture at him.

His eyebrows furrow and he starts shaking his head.

“No.” He writes on the board.

You sigh and sit back down when you see that his heart rate increases significantly on the monitor.

“Are you okay?” You redirect the conversation. He thinks for a moment and you find yourself wanting to touch his hair, to comfort him. It’s a new desire, an odd one.

“They haven’t explained what happened to me. I don’t remember,” he scribbles.

“Do you want me to tell you?” You ask and place your hand on his.

He looks down at where you touch him but nods.

You tell him everything from the moment you saw him bleeding to the surgery and the coma.

“But you’re out of the woods and making great strides to recovery,” you finish.

He presses his palm into his eye socket as though his head hurts before writing again.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” is all it says.

“You’re straining your eyes by reading,” you point out when he blinks as thought his head hurts.

He nods, aware of that fact.

“Here,” you take the book from him. He lets you and points out where he left off. You begin to read to him and he lays back in the bed with a deep breath.

“…He was so obsessed with what had happened to him that he was afraid to put it into words, lest he should lose it all at once, lest he should be left with nothing. He was so possessed by the idea that he was afraid to think of anything else; he wanted to forget everything else, to think of nothing, to do nothing, to feel nothing, so as not to lose what he had gained…” you trail off.

When you glance over at him he’s gripping his journal, the pen beside him, and he’s fallen asleep.

You dim the lights and take his journal from him. You glance only at what he had dozed off writing.

‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’

The quote takes you by surprise, mostly the familiarity of it. You can’t place where you’d read it before nor could you figure out why he was writing it.

Nonetheless you place the journal on the table beside him before moving to get comfortable in the recliner. You would sleep there tonight.

Sleep finds you slowly, the quote he sketched replaying in your mind. You’ll figure out where you read it tomorrow.

A/N: I just finished season 8, I had no idea until after writing this that Spence suffers a similar injury in season 9- oops.