#we're drawing the line at bleeding out

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

for the past few weeks i've been saying "ugh I'll deal with xyz after I hand my last assessment in"

my last assessment is due tomorrow

this post actually isn't about the incredible buildup of shit i will soon have to do (I'll think about that after I hand my last assessment in).

it's about how i had a dream last night where i was bleeding out considerably and i looked down at all the blood and said "ugh. I'll go see a doctor after I hand my last assessment in."

send help it's gone too far

[cephalofrog]

I fucking despise the way that my brain refuses to let me develop my artstyle beyond the most literal interpretation of any given drawing possible

[justlemmeadoreyou]

5. seasoned to perfection (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here) | (part 4 here)

Summary: Harry comes back, and the pent-up tensions and frustrations from the day you met are released, in the literal sense. he's vulnerable too, but it's for your eyes only..

Words: 6k+

Warnings: Fluff, Smut. P in v sex in the driver's seat 🤭, kissing, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

***

Harry was back in Chicago two days later, just as he'd promised. A profound sense of relief washed over you the moment his broad-shouldered figure appeared striding through the airport terminal - he looked exhausted and careworn, but his stride was purposeful, that familiar spark of intensity simmering behind his hazel eyes.

Despite the lingering worry etched into the lines of his face, Harry flashed you a lopsided grin as he drew closer. "Well if it ain't my star pupil, coming to greet her mentor like the proper respectful protegee she is."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress the matching grin that tugged at your own mouth. "Don't get too full of yourself there . I'm just here to collect on those celebratory drinks you promised."

"Is that so?" Harry's raspy chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he closed the remaining distance between you. Up close, you could better make out the faint smudges of fatigue ringing his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders that hinted at the emotional toll this family crisis had already exacted. 

"I sure am lucky you pulled through like a total rockstar the other night, darlin'," he said, voice softening with sincerity. "Don't know what kind of state my head would be in right now if that whole gala affair had gone pear-shaped on top of everything else."

You felt your chest constrict with sympathy at the undercurrent of weariness bleeding into his gravelly timbre. For all his towering self-assurance, it was still far too easy to catch glimpses of the profoundly lonely man beneath.

"Hey," you said softly, emboldened enough to reach out and give his forearm a reassuring squeeze. "It's gonna be okay, you know? One way or another."

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged after a beat, hazel eyes crinkling faintly at the corners as he regarded you. Impulsively, Harry reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. "Thanks for being here, pet. I could use a friendly face right about now."

You felt your breath catch at the gentle rasp of his rough fingertips grazing your cheek as they fell away. A look passed between you, heavy with unspoken undercurrents simmering just beneath the surface.

Harry seemed to catch himself after a pregnant pause, giving a slightly brusque clearing of his throat as he took a half-step back. "Anyway, I'm betting you're just aching to hear all the dirty details about how your old mentor totally knocked it out of the park running my crazy-ass centerpiece for the gala, am I right?"

The teasing rasp was back in full force, but you could have sworn you detected an undercurrent of...flirtation? Nerves fizzing in your veins, you forced an answering grin. "Well, I definitely wouldn't say no to getting an extremely thorough debrief on all the specifics."

"That's what I like to hear," Harry chuckled, reaching down to snag your bag before you could protest. "C'mon then, let's get out of this madhouse. I'll fill you in on every juicy detail over a proper meal - hell, I might even let you buy me a congratulatory drink for once."

You rolled your eyes at his cheek but didn't object as Harry slung your bag over his shoulder and began leading the way out of the crowded airport terminal, one calloused hand at the small of your back guiding you through the milling crowds. The innocent point of contact still managed to raise gooseflesh along your skin.

"I hope wherever we're going has a full bar," you quipped once you made it outside, drawing a rich chuckle from your mentor.

"Have I ever let you down before on the booze front, darlin'? Though I gotta warn you, I might have to start cutting you off early tonight if you get too sloppy with the drinking."

You snorted indelicately. "Please, like your liver could even hang with mine these days. I'll be the one cutting YOU off before the night is over, old man."

"Old man?!" Harry's brows shot upward in mock outrage. "Well aren't you a cheeky little thing. Maybe I oughta just turn this reunion car right back around, huh?"

You grinned unrepentantly. "And deprive yourself of soaking up my full admiration for how flawlessly I executed your crazy dish the other night? I don't think so, Chef. You're stuck with me now."

A look you didn't quite catch flickered over Harry's face before his expression softened into something tender and...admiring? "You got me there, pet. I really am damn lucky I've got someone as fiercely dedicated and hardworking as you lookin' out for me."

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as the valet pulled up a sleek black car. "C'mon then, let's go get that drink and hear all about how you made your old mentor proud once again."

With that, Harry opened the passenger door in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture, making a theatrical play act of ushering you inside before circling around to the driver's side. Despite the lingering exhaustion evident in his features, an unmistakable lightness and sense of humor had returned to Harry's manner now that he was back in your company. You found yourself charmed all over again by his trademark swagger and grit.

Once Harry had pulled out into Chicago's hectic downtown traffic, he gave a weary but contented exhale. "God, I really did miss the hell out of this place while I was gone. Nothing quite like the thrill of the culinary world, am I right?"

"I'll say," you agreed easily, draining the last of your bottled water. "That whole gala evening was an adrenaline rush like none other."  

"So go on then, darlin' - give me all the dirty deets from the frontlines." Hazel eyes glittered with renewed energy as Harry flashed you a wolfish grin. "Did Thomason end up being a totally insufferable hard-ass running the kitchen in my absence, or what?"

Unable to resist indulging him a bit, you launched into a play-by-play recap of how the evening had kicked off. "Well, I'll say this - your boy definitely mastered the art of brusque delegating from the moment I stepped through those doors."

"That definitely tracks," Harry chuckled in amusement.

You held up your hands in a placating gesture. "But honestly, he managed to not be a total nightmare for once. Sure, there were still barked insults and slews of obscenities flying around...but Thomason weirdly seemed more patient with me than usual."

"My best guess is that the hardass saw how much weight I was putting on your shoulders to make sure the night went smoothly," Harry supplied. "He knows damn well not to get in my way when I've got a white whale in my sights."

You felt an undeniable swell of pride at his matter-of-fact confidence in your abilities. "Well, whatever the reason, I can't deny Thomason at least made sure I got briefed on every single responsibility under my purview upfront. Nothing left out or unclear."

"Good, that's what I want to hear," Harry nodded in approval. "You damn well better have been prepped to the gills on every last particular after all the hours we spent running scenarios during practice."

"Oh he made sure of it, believe me," you assured him wryly. "I don't think my head stopped spinning from all the prep tasks and oversight duties he laid on me until we were halfway into evening service."

"That's my girl, always rising to the occasion no matter what fresh hell gets thrown your way," Harry said with unmistakable pride. His gaze flicked over to you with open fondness. "So go on then, I'm dying' to hear about the actual execution part. Did the crew and I at least have you guys trained up good to handle the intricate stuff?"

As if on cue, your mouth curved into a smug grin. "Does a flawless plating of your avant-garde centrepiece dish answer your question? Because let me tell you, Chef, those practice runs may have been hellish - but they paid off in spades. We didn't miss a single beat from start to finish on that thing."

Pride resonated in Harry's rumbling laugh. "Ha! That's what I like to hear. I knew I could count on you to hold down the fort and keep those yutz line cooks from falling apart under the pressure."

"Wow, you really are impressed, huh?" You couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day where Harry  dolled out such lavish praise."

Harry shot you a wry look, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "What can I say, you bring out the sappy side in me sometimes, darlin'. Must be all those gooey mentor-mentee feelings."

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Sure, keep telling yourself that's what it is. I think we both know the real reason you're so proud of me right now."

"Oh yeah?" Harry's voice dropped an octave, taking on that low, rumbly timbre that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. "And what's that, sweetheart?"

You felt your cheeks warm at the heated undertone in his words, suddenly very aware of the charged tension crackling between you in the confines of the car. Clearing your throat, you opted for a subject change. "So, uh, I have to ask - how are things with your mom? Any updates there?"

Harry's expression sobered instantly, some of the lightness dimming from his eyes as he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "It's...been a rough couple of days, that's for sure. But the doctors seem cautiously optimistic after running all their tests and whatnot."

He exhaled a ragged sigh, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. "They were able to get her stabilized, at least. Still lots of treatment and recovery ahead, but...the prognosis isn't quite as dire as we initially feared."

"Harry." You reached over to cover his hand with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's such a relief to hear. I'm so glad she's going to be okay."

He glanced over at the contact, eyes flickering with some indecipherable emotion before he slowly turned his palm to lace his fingers through yours. The simple gesture felt impossibly intimate in the dim confines of the car.

"Yeah, me too, pet," Harry said gruffly. He fell silent for a long moment, seeming to struggle against the swell of emotion welling up behind his gruff exterior. When he finally continued, his voice had gone low and husky.

"I gotta admit, having to leave everything and fly out there on such short notice...well, it really puts a lotta stuff in perspective for me, you know? Reminds me that there's more to life than just the goddamn kitchen for once."

You felt your breath catch at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, the rawness shining through those rough-hewn features. This was such an unprecedented side of Harry - one you'd never seen him display so openly before. He wasn't the type to indulge in sappy feelings or put his heart on display.

And yet here he was, opening up to you in a way that felt profoundly intimate. Impulsively, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging him to continue.

Harry's gaze was soft when he finally looked over at you again. "I've been so focused for so damn long on my career, on chasing that elusive Michelin star...putting in more hours at the restaurant than I do actually sleeping most weeks. It's been all-consuming, you know? To the point where I've let other important stuff get shoved to the back burner for way too long."

There was a weighty pause before he added in a quieter tone, "Stuff like...well, like relationships. Connections with people outside of the kitchen brat pack. Hell, even making time for my own family before it's too late."

His calloused thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending sparks skittering across your skin. "Being out there this week, it made me realize how much I've let slide while chasing my big culinary dreams. How many people and opportunities I've missed out on by being so goddamn single-minded about the hustle."

You felt your heart give a hard thud in your chest at his words, an undercurrent of meaning thrumming through every syllable Harry uttered. Was he actually...was this leading where you desperately hoped it was leading?

"I don't know, Y/N," he continued, voice going soft and rumbly in a way you'd never heard it before. "Maybe it's time I start setting aside room for more than just food in my life again, you know? Making space for the other shit that actually matters in the end."

Without warning, the car slowed before pulling over to the side of the road. You looked around in surprise, momentarily disoriented - only to suck in a sharp breath when you felt the warm press of Harry's palm cradling your jaw, gently but insistently turning your face towards his own.

His hazel eyes were turbulent but gleaming with unmistakable intent as they roamed over your features, seeming to drink in every last freckle and curve. "Like people," Harry murmured, deep voice gone even more rough and gravelly. "Important people who've been right there in front of me this whole damn time, just waiting for me to get my head out of my ass."

Your mouth went dry as his thumb brushed over the swell of your lower lip in a devastatingly tender caress. "You've been so goddamn strong for me lately, darlin'," he rasped. "Taking charge and killing it even when I had to bail on you guys. Honestly, I've never seen someone rise to an occasion like you did with that whole centerpiece service."

A surge of molten heat flared in his gaze as Harry slowly, incrementally leaned closer with every gravelly word. "Which just makes me wonder...what if I told you how crazy you've been driving me lately with that fierce, take-no-shit attitude and work ethic? How distractingly sexy it's been watching you come into your own in the kitchen?"

Coherent thoughts fled in the wake of his scorching words. All you could process was the heated intent burning from every line of his expression, the delicious timbre of his voice as one calloused palm slid around to cradle the nape of your neck.

Any remaining space between you evaporated as Harry drew inexorably nearer, heated breaths fanning over your parted lips. "Maybe it's time we both stopped ignoring this crazy tension that's been building between us, eh?" His words were nearly a growl, sending liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this as badly as I do, darlin'," Harry rasped, nose brushing against yours. "Tell me, and I swear to god I'll - "

Whatever devastatingly filthy promise he'd been about to make was suddenly cut off as you surged upwards to crash your lips against his in a heated clash of hunger and need. Harry made a noise of surprise that quickly morphed into a guttural groan as his big hands pulled you flush against his powerful frame, deepening the kiss with smoldering intensity.

All the frustration and undercurrent of want that had simmered untapped for months between you both finally found an outlet as his mouth slanted hungrily over yours. Harry tasted like smoky whiskey and roasted espresso, the scents you'd unknowingly committed to memory from hours spent shadowing him in the kitchen. Now you could finally indulge in the addictive flavor without restraint, losing yourself in the velvet heat of his lips and the wicked stroke of his tongue.

A desperate whimper escaped you as Harry's fingers wound through your hair, tugging just enough to angle your head for even deeper exploration. He swallowed the sound with relish, growling low in his chest as he took control of the ferocious give and take - a twin to the commanding yet sensual way he moved around the kitchen.

Time seemed to lose meaning as you kissed with reckless abandon, hands roaming wildly over the other's body. Your fingers brushing over Harry's hard pecs and rippling abs, committing every ridge and plane to memory. His calloused palms skimming over the flare of your hips, teasing at the sliver of exposed skin above your waistband as he tugged your shirts aside.

"Fuck," he growled, still cradling you tightly against his muscular frame. One hand drifted up the length of your spine to sift through your tousled hair, something breathtakingly tender. "Been wanting to do that for way too goddamn long, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky exhalation, riding the waves of tingling euphoria coursing over your skin. "Me too," you confessed in a huskier tone than you'd ever heard yourself use before. "God, Harry, I–” you stopped the rest of the words before they escaped your mouth, afraid you were going too far too fast. But he tilted his head downwards, raising his eyebrows and asking you to tell him whatever the hell you wanted to.

“I– say it, darlin’” he urged, swiping one thumb over your face, grazing it tenderly across the apple of your cheek, “No more secrets”

Eventually, the scorching inferno of desire raging between you banked to a low, smoldering burn...though no less devastatingly intense for the minor reprieve. Finally, you drew back just far enough for Harry to rest his forehead against yours, harsh breaths intermingling hotly.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and looking straight into his emerald eyes, “I–I, fuck, I need you, Harry. So–so fucking bad it–hurts”

You confessed, and the look that crossed Harry's face was one mixed with relief and the tiniest hint of lust.

You didn’t need to tell him twice because you barely had the time to catch your breath when he crashed his lips down on top of yours, claiming them once again. He slid so he was more close to you now, hands gripping the back of your head and keeping your face in place for him to kiss you hard. He had been waiting for this for so long–all the longing glances, the pent up, fucked up frustration in him–he was bearing all of it into the kiss that left your mind dizzy and lips swollen./

“Fucking exquisite”

He praised you, and you blushed into his mouth. It was all a blur after that–he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you from the passenger seat and maneuvering you into his lap. You lowered yourself down, the front of your jeans making a slight contact with the tip of his clothed cock, and the whine he let out was pure sin.

“Gonna make me burst”

He held on to your hips, kneading them in his palms as he watched you settle on top of him. You skillfully aligned his seat as abc as it could go, so he was almost laying down while you sat on top of him. 

“THose hands–they aren’t just good in the kitchen, are they?” he teased, and since now you were on top, you were feeling more powerful.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his chest, smoothening your hands down his golden chest, “Wait till you see what else I can do with these”

He let out a gasp as you leaned in, licking up his abs, and kissing his butterfly tattoo. His hands slid to your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his palms and letting you admire and worship his body.

“Cheeky minx “ he said, but the words were swallowed into a groan as you sucked on his nipples, biting them softly and smirking when he rolled his hips upward. He was getting desperate, hips lifting up every now and then in need for relief.

You continued the onslaught of kisses, but wanted to give the poor millionaire some relief. You reached for the button of his pants, undoing it and unzipping his fly. Sitting back up, you pulled them down to his knees, and the sight of his boxers tented…his cock begging to be released from its confines made your mouth water.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He sat back up, making you fall back against the steering wheel but caught you just in time, resting his palms on your back. Once you were stable, he undid your jeans as well, wasting no time in pushing one hand inside.

“Oh fuck–Harry–” you cursed, and he could see it on your face–pure lust and arousal. He began to swipe his fingers between your lips, spreading the wetness around and finding your clit–expertly rolling the soft bundle of nerves between his fingers that had you curling your toes. He looked straight into your eyes while doing that too–watching you fall apart from just his fingers.

Once he was done teasing you, he circled his fingers around your entrance, which was completely, devastatingly soaked. You had been dreaming of this for so long–wanting this for so long that now when you were finally going to have him, it felt straight out of a dream.

“So fucking wet–all for me?” he asked, and you nodded, “All–all for you, chef”

“Fuckin’ tease” he cursed before pulling his fingers out, which were now covered in your slick and arousal, and pulling his boxers down, letting hsi cock spring free.

You had seen many cocks. In porn, in real life. But seeing his cock–thick and long, slightly curved towards the tip, which would make it the perfect fit for your needy pussy. The tip was a perfect shade of purplish-red, with a few drops of precum oozing out and making your mouth water once again. You wanted him in your mouth. And he did too, but right now, there wasn’t much time.

You lifted yourself up, pulling your jeans and panties down in one go, till they were near your knees just like his. Positioning yourself right on top of him, he gave his cock a few stroked before resting one hand on your hip. You placed your hands on his shoulders for support, and once your pussy was in contact, his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head.

But he didn’t push it in just yet–rubbed it back and forth between your lips, till your legs threatened to give out, and you squeezed his shoulder.

“Alright, no take backs–” he whispered, and aligned it with your hole, and you pushed yourself down on him, and fuck–was it worth it.

Once he was inside, your mouth fell open. You had been wet, and he hand;t prepped you too much because of it. But the sweet burn of him pushing it in fully–it fueled into your pain kink, and you bit your lower lip, getting up and lowering yourself down on him fully, till your hips were touching his heavy balls.

“So full, I–I feel so fucking full, Harry–” you told him, and he nodded, his adam apple bobbing. He pulled you down for another kiss, and using both hands, he began fucking you on him.

You moaned and screamed into the kiss, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your cervix, his precum leaking from his tip continuously. While you were sure you would be able to take the lead, giving up control and letting him use your body however he wanted–it made you feel really fucking good.

“Good, so fucking good, pet, so tight and snug around me, aren’t you? Could fuck you for days, I swear–”

You would get back at him on that promise for sure, later.

“Denied me of this sweet cunt for so long–gave me those fuck me eyes the first day you came into my restaurant.”

You tried to shake your head to tell him how that wasn’t true, but the words lodged in your throat. You didn’t know how you looked at him, he did.

“No–no Harry, fuck–, I–I wanted to–”

“Fuck me, hmm? The first day you saw me?” he teased, and you pulled his ear lightly.

“No, you dumbo. I–I wanted to push you against the counter and pin your hands beside you and–”

“And fuck me?” he finished your sentence once again, and to get back at him, you squeezed around him. You did it with all the strength you had, and you could swear you felt him harden just a little bit more inside you.

“And how is that different from what I said?” he asked, and you placed your hand over his mouth to shut him up. You tried to ride him this time, using his strong chest to fuck yourself up and down, till your wetness was pooling on the base of his cock. It was a wet mess–your arousals mixed together on the top of his thighs and you were positive it slipped through to the seat.

“Make me–make me cum, chef-” you said, and you felt him smile against your palm. You lifted it up, and he pinned your hands behind your back immediately.

“Chef, huh?” he taunted, and pulled you down for another kiss, halting for mere seconds before you came all over him–wetness oozing out and wetting his cock and balls. He pushed his tongue inside your mouth, the movements mirroring those of his cock in your pussy. It wasn’t long before he came too, emptying himself into your snug heat with a low groan.

He made out with you throughout–never letting your lips rest as his seed filled you up to the brim. The warm feeling had you dizzy, being filled up by the man you admired and wanted for years.

Once you were relaxed, tongues dancing in slow motions, he pulled out and pulled your panties back in place, saving his cum from falling into embarrassing places. You rolled your eyes at him, adjusting your clothes and sitting back on the seat beside.

His eyes gazed into yours with adoration, the car filled with the smell of sex and sweat. The lingering scent of finally giving into something that was building up since day one–it made you feel happy and vulnerable.

He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, letting his palm linger against your cheek in a tender caress.

"You know, I meant what I said before about not wanting to let this amazing opportunity between us slip away," he murmured, eyes shining sincerely. "After everything we've been through, you've become one of the most important people in my life, darlin'."

You felt your heart swell at his words, leaning into his touch with a soft smile. "And you're one of the most incredible men I've ever known, Harry. I'm just...I'm so grateful we finally took this leap together."

Chuckling warmly, Harry pulled you into a snug embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. "Well, you'd better get used to having me around then, sweetheart. Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

Reaching up, you cradled his whiskered jaw, marveling at how such a hardened culinary genius could look so endearingly unsure in the wake of baring his heart. A soft smile curved your lips as you stroked along the line of his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Harry," you began, keeping your tone low and earnest. "I just want you to know...what we share goes far deeper for me than just some crush or physical attraction. You've been such an incredible mentor, certainly - pushing me to my limits and helping me discover a resilience I didn't know I had. But more than that, you've also become one of the most important people in my life these past few months."

He seemed to still against you, holding his breath as he searched your expression intently. Encouraged by the yearning shining from those soulful hazel eyes, you pressed onward.

"From the very first day, there was just...something about the way you carry yourself in that kitchen, so passionate and uncompromising in your artistry. It inspired me in a way I've never experienced before. And as I got to know the man behind the chef's coat better and better, that admiration grew into something...well, something I couldn't ignore or push away, no matter how much I tried."

You gave a rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "Not that I'm proud of how I handled that, especially at first. I was so terrified of being just another young line cook with an embarrassing crush on the big-shot chef, you know? Of risking the most rewarding professional relationship I've ever had by letting feelings get in the way. So I tried my damnedest to squash it down and keep things strictly business between us."

Harry made a low noise of understanding, one calloused palm drifting up to cradle the side of your face with ineffable tenderness. The pad of his thumb brushed over your lower lip as he gazed at you with naked longing.

"But the more time we spent together, the more I came to realize I wasn't alone in what I was feeling," you continued, emboldened by the smoldering affection gleaming in his expression. "Those heated looks and moments of banter that always left me weak in the knees...the way you'd find any excuse to touch me, even if it was just your hand on my back or brushing my arm. And don't think I didn't catch that molten vibe you gave me after the gala service the other night, Harry."

You gave a breathless chuckle at the memory, watching in satisfaction as his eyes darkened perceptibly from the reminder. "Point is, it's been pretty damn obvious to me for a while now that this crazy, inexplicable tension has been building between us. And after tonight...after you pour your heart out about wanting to open yourself up to something deeper outside of just the kitchen...well, I knew I had to finally stop fighting it."

Cradling his rugged features between your palms, you gazed at Harry with profound sincerity. "I don't want to just be another protegee you take under your wing, Harry. I want...god, I want so much more than that if you'll have me. As more than just your mentee."

The silence that fell between you seemed to stretch out into infinite stillness - until finally, Harry broke it with a shuddering exhalation. His features softened into an expression of pure affection and naked vulnerability.

"Darlin'," he murmured in that low, gravelly timbre that had haunted your dreams. "I gotta say, you're one hell of a woman. Smart, fiercely passionate, and talented as all hell in the kitchen. Any chef in their right mind would count themselves lucky to have that kind of force on their line."

One calloused thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead in an achingly tender gesture. "But the more I got to know you, the more I realized you were so much more than just a hell of a cook. You've got this...this fire inside, this core of unshakable integrity, that shines through in everything you do." 

A slow, lopsided grin curved his mouth as Harry seemed to drink in your features hungrily. "Truth is, I've been half in love with you since the first time you went toe-to-toe with me over mise en place and didn't back down one inch. Kidfron called me out a while back, said I needed to get my head out  and stop being an idiot about my feelings before I lost my shot with you. And you know what? He was right."

You heard the sharp breath you sucked in at his unexpected confession, suddenly feeling lightheaded from the rushing euphoria of having your own deepest desires affirmed. Harry's smile softened into something unbearably tender.

"I meant what I said earlier, about needing to start making room in my life for stuff that actually matters now," he murmured. "No more letting amazing opportunities or people slip through my fingers while I'm off chasing the next culinary high, you know? From here on out, I wanna do this thing with you - the real deal, not just heated flings or fooling around when it's convenient." 

One calloused palm drifted up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your wildly fluttering pulse. "That is...if you're sure you want to go all in with this crazy bastard and whatever baggage he's got. Because I sure as shit don't plan on letting you go after everything we've been through, darlin'. You're stuck with me now."

The last words were issued in a low, rumbly rasp brimming with naked want and promise. You felt a shiver of pure yearning race down your spine as Harry slowly, inexorably drew you back into the smoldering field of his orbit.

"Just to be clear," you murmured, drunk on the whiskey-smoke scent and pure masculine essence of him, "I am absolutely, one-hundred percent sure I want to dive into this thing with you, Harry . The real deal, as you put it - not as mentor and mentee, but as...as partners in every sense of the word." 

A smile you couldn't suppress bloomed over your features as you nuzzled his whiskered jaw adoringly. "You, me, and whatever crazy culinary adventures lie ahead...I can't wait."

Harry rumbled out a low, contented chuckle that vibrated against your skin deliciously. "Sounds perfect to me, darlin'," he rasped, "Absolutely freakin' perfect."

Silence fell between you then, stretching out in a tender, infinitely rich moment of shared affection and promise. Of two hearts irreversibly entwined, embarking together on an endeavor that would change the course of both your lives immeasurably.

Though the road ahead would surely present its own tangle of twists, turns, and daunting challenges yet to come...in that ephemeral pocket of stillness, cradled in the heart of Harry's powerful embrace, you had never felt more vibrantly alive or certain of the path destiny had laid out before you.

No matter what obstacles or battles awaited around the bend, you knew without a shred of doubt that you would confront them as you did everything else - side-by-side with your partner, your equal, your soulmate in every possible sense. Two culinary spirits, unified at long last in a blissful, rapturous understanding.

The rest of the world could keep spinning wildly outside the sheltered cocoon you had woven together. But in this perfect, crystalline moment frozen in time...nothing else mattered beyond the blazing truth ignited between you. From here on out, you would walk through the fire of any culinary pursuit, hand-in-hand, soul-to-soul alongside the man who held your heart.

And in the end, that's all that would ever matter again.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this series is done, but I'm always open to doing extras and check-ins!

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[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Daryl Dixon w/ immune reader— 'we're all infected, why does it matter if you're the cure?'

Yandere Daryl saw your scraggly ass aimlessly wandering through the abandoned pharmacy he needed to raid. Walkers, five of em', and you fought them off bare fisted. Pretty badass, and fucking stupid, if Daryl has anything to say about it. You're bleeding from your neck more than any living person should.

A bite. You're bit.

No wonder you could care less if one of the rotting corpses bites on ya.

He wants to put you down like he should. He lines up his crossbow with your head, and like a deer caught in headlights, you flee.

Goddammit all.

Shouldn't matter anyway. You'll become another walker. At the most you got some gauze.

It had to be months again before he saw you on another run. There you are—banged up and just a lil more than skin n' bones, but there you are alive none the less.

Yandere Daryl admits to himself that it's the first time he's been intrigued by someone in a long while. Maybe that's why he's insisted on going on runs by himself these past few months. Maybe just maybe deep down he wanted to see you again.

It isn't hard to simply surprise you from behind and disarm you. He knocks you out and lowers you to the sidewalk. He doesn't see any walkers near, so he can check your wound out easy.

You still have gauze over it, but it has long since needed a change. It's drenched in fresh blood and covered in old. He unwraps it to see the damn bite. He can't tell if it looks better or worse now.

"Poor sap, what am I gonna do with you? Whats good a cure if there's no docs, only greedy men in this world." He tsks.

Yandere Daryl picks you up and carries you back to the group. He wraps a slightly torn shawl around your neck. It's one he found near the store you collapsed at. There's a reason you have been out here all these months.

You could'a just given up and died.

You could'a found a group.

Instead you found him again.

"Must've been fate, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly.

The way you looked at him. You're runnin' from somethin'. He just has to figure out what.

Yandere Daryl decides you're his to take care of. When he carries you into Alexandria, he doesn't let anyone else get their hands on you. He doesn't answer anyone's questions while he walks in and towards his house. He locks himself in and tells anyone that comes by to piss off.

Screw the rules and whatever the fuck.

You're a mystery that he has to solve.

So he grabs a change of clothes and some food for you. He plops them down on the table and sits in the opposite chair.

He doesn't mind waitin' for a while. It gives him plenty o' time to think. Somethin' in him is just stirrin'. He just can't decide what.

Yandere Daryl calms you down after you wake up. You can barely form words on those pretty lips and tongue of yours. Naturally, you question him and his motives. You're defensive and don't elaborate at first.

It takes just a handful of threats about exposing you and spreading around the fact there is an immune person to unravel your need for secrecy.

Somewhat.

You only tell him that you're being hunted by a group you were once with.

"Mind elaborating, hun?" Daryl draws out while looking over your figure for what feels like the thousandth time.

"I'll tell you—but I swear to God if you use this against me I'll stab you through the head a dozen times over."

"Fair nuff."

"They would—If you get bit and are injected with... well, enough of my blood then it acts as a cure..."

They fuckin' what?

Yandere Daryl vouches for you, and you end up in Alexandria. You get no ifs, ands, or buts about it. They assign you to his house. Daryl definitely convinced Rick that since you're a newcomer and you trust him more, he could keep a watchful eye on you. It totally isn't because there's this strange all possessing feeling that keeps latching onto his heart when you're around.

He keeps your secret safe n' sound. He manages to steal enough makeup from rundown stores to keep your healing bite covered up. He makes sure you are eating and getting healthier. He checks up on you before and after he gets done with a run. Hell, he reminds you of shit he forgets about all the time.

This does extend to him killing people to keep you safe. They looked at you wrong. Maybe one of the residents feels suspicious about you. They may even have confronted Daryl and questioned him. Oh, well. Just another one pushed to the biters.

Daryl has never had a strict moral compass. So he doesn't feel bad about murdering people who he is supposed to consider his neighbors.

Of course, those who came with him to Alexandria get the privilege of questionin' you just a bit. He's quick to shut that shit down, though.

Carol is the only one who is close enough to knowing that you are immune. She knows that Daryl has something more than platonic towards you. She also knows that you were injured with something that looked suspiciously like a walker bite mark when Daryl first lugged you in. (She snuck in and looked through your scarf while Daryl wasn't aware.)

She just isn't looking for trouble. She doesn't want to believe it, as it doesn't seem plausible. There have been too many false hopes from the CDC to Eugene.

So she let's Daryl foster his feelings towards you while watching out for you both. If Daryl ever oversteps a boundary with you, Carol will be there to knock him up side the head, call him a stupid redneck, and threaten him in the most motherly way possible. 

Yandere Daryl never saw you have so much terror in the eyes as the day he mentioned The Saviors. It clicked in his mind immediately. He has only felt that rage one other time in his life: when he learned Meryl had been handcuffed to the roof and left for dead.

He didn't think, but he acted. He held you and refused to let go. It's just so fuckin' unfair. He loses everyone that has a semblance of importance to him. Not you. Not this time.

His only thought was that he was going to burn every one of those fuckers to the ground—innocent or not.

[its-luna-noel]

in my restless dreams, i see you | various!jjk x reader

04. hopping out the grave, no face, bones shudder

Vampire lord Ryomen Sukuna gives you the gift of eternal life. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. vampire lord!sukuna x reader vampire!geto x reader vampire hunter!gojo x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, vampire!au, smut, drinking, partying, non-con elements, blood drinking, vampire turning, violence & blood, definite dark themes so DD:DNE

word count: 2.6k

chapter 4/? (probably 18ish) previous chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: sorry friends, no smut today, need this chapter to set up for the future ones but hey we're meeting new characters today! anyway, back to warnings: death, blood drinking

Your name looks so haunting on a headstone.

The day of your funeral is a sunny day, which feels wrong to your family and friends; shouldn’t it be raining, dark and stormy like how all their hearts feel? Shouldn’t the sky be as black as their mourning clothes, instead of the sun beating down and making their bodies warm when their lives are now so cold and empty without you?

As light slowly begins to bleed away into night, the last ones still standing at your grave are Nobara and Maki, because they were also the last ones to see you alive, and they feel like it’s simply penance for letting you go home alone with a stranger.

For letting you die on your birthday.

A utility worker found you the morning after your death, cold and pale on the harsh concrete of the alley you died in. The police said you must have been assaulted and your throat slit with some sort of sharp impaling weapon, leaving two gaping wounds in your neck. Nobara and Maki gave them the description of the man you left with, his stature and tattoos presumably unique enough to draw attention to him as soon as he comes back out into the sunlight.

He still hasn’t been found.

And so, with tearful goodbyes, the girls finally turn and leave you as the sun finally sinks beneath the horizon.

Shadows grow long, and darkness overtakes the sky as your body lies six-feet under, locked in a pretty wooden casket your family so lovingly chose for your eternal rest.

Hours pass.

Then, buried beneath consecrated ground, your curse finally takes hold, and the wounds on your throat close and scar over. Your body lies still, unmoving, pale, bloodless.

Then, when the bells chime three o’clock, in the deepest dark of the night, eyes open, and you take your first breath of your undead life.

It’s a gasping breath, heavy and shaking, and you’re already suffocating because you’re buried beneath meters of dirt and the oxygen in your little box is stale and scant. Your nails scrape at the velvet lining of your casket, and you can’t even think through your gasps enough to try and scream for help.

Your nails tear through the fabric, shredding it. They gauge the wood underneath, but it’s not enough to lift the lid; you’re locked in, and buried under several feet of heavy dirt.

In your panic, you punch a hole through the inch-thick wood. Your mind isn’t clear enough for you to be able to tell that this is a strange feat for you.

As soon as you shove your way through, dirt begins filling your casket, draining through the hole like an hourglass, moving far too fast for your comfort. You let out a cry, and when you try to gasp for another breath, you breathe in dirt and gravel, choking on it, coughing and gagging while you try to dig your way out.

It’s grueling, agonizing. There’s dirt under your fingernails, dirt filling your mouth, dirt in your lungs. You’re drowning in it, and your only instinct is to just keep digging, to reach the surface so you can breathe, so you can greet the world reborn.

And so you claw your way up. You don’t know how long it takes you. But finally, once your nails are ruined and there’s filth between your teeth, you break the surface.

Moonlight shines down, and you take your first breath of fresh air, gulping for it like you’re parched. You cough, chest heaving as you keep digging, the pinpricks of light melting into a hole the size of a golf ball, then a baseball, then a basketball, and you keep going, keep going, keep going–

Then you’re dragging your body out of the ground, your burial outfit covered with splinters of wood and smeared with dirt.

You crawl out of your grave, and you take glorious, grateful deep breaths. You roll over onto your back, staring up at the moon, dazed by the light because you’re alive, how are you alive, you don’t even remember how you got in the ground but–

Before you can think, before you can sort through your thoughts and remember anything that happened the last night of your life, you take another breath, and you smell something.

Something fucking mouthwatering.

You sit up in a flash, your body a blur in your speed as your head whips around to find the source of the scent. It’s more than mouthwatering; it’s captivating, hypnotizing, a siren’s song that you can’t resist. You don’t even want to resist, all you want is to find that scent and taste it, because it makes a hunger in your belly clench, a hunger so deep it aches in your very soul. It’s like a sudden inferno, and you’re immolating in it, and you need whatever that smell is to help you put out the flames.

Your eyes fall on the cemetery groundskeeper, and before you can even think, you’re off your ass and running.

You move so fast that the rest of the world starts to blur, but your mind is only set on the figure of the old man pulling weeds outside the mausoleum. You can still smell that sweet scent, and your thoughts aren’t even lucid; you’re just moving on instinct as you dart through the shadows, every step silent before you’re on him, not even giving him a chance to scream before your filth-covered nails rip into his throat.

Blood drips like rain, spurting across the front of the dress you were buried in.

You gasp in a breath, because the sticky blood releases the scent in a powerful burst, and you’re salivating at the thought of tasting it, of finally quenching this thirst, of curbing your ravenous appetite that has you absolutely feral. The groundskeeper’s life is soaking through your hands, his body falling limp as he goes to crash to the grass, but you catch him and hold him with supernaturally strong hands, claws digging into his flesh that’s burning hot compared to your undead body. Your mouth goes to his bleeding throat, a grotesque mangle of flesh, and your tongue laps at his blood.

The taste is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

It’s metallic, the overpowering taste of iron spreading across your tongue, but all you can do is groan in relief as you finally swallow it down, the heat of the liquid burning your throat. It’s like a drug, like an immediate hit of the best concoction you could ever imagine, euphoria and energy and heat flowing through you all at once as you continue to drink from the dying man.

He gives his final gasps, eyes glazed over with panic and fear, and then he goes still in your arms.

You’re almost disappointed, because his blood is already starting to cool in the breeze of the early morning hours. You wish he could’ve held on for a little longer, at least until you could experience the sensation of his blood flowing through your veins, warming your undead heart. But you keep drinking, until his body runs dry.

You let out a helpless, animalistic whine; why are you still thirsty?

You drop to your hands and knees, licking up every drop of blood you can smell from his clothes, his skin, the blades of grass below. You’re desperate for it, hands shaking, pupils blown wide and body trembling like you’re already withdrawing; you need more–

You hear a condescending, mocking chuckle, and your head snaps up, and you’re sprinting again.

You’re still not thinking; all you can do is move, hoping for another victim to drain blood from until this gnawing thirst starts to dissipate, until you can finally breathe again without this burn in your throat, this knot in your belly.

But you don’t smell blood; you don’t hear a beating heart. All you see is the monster that turned you, a familiar, fanged smirk. You recognize his red eyes and harsh, black tattoos.

You snarl, baring your own fangs and launching yourself at him, nails poised to rip out his throat, now, because what did he do to you, he gave you this thirst, he needs to die–

He reaches up a hand, almost casually, and catches your throat in a bruising grip.

You gasp and growl and cry, sounding like a rabid animal as you flail your limbs, trying to scratch at him, kick at him, bite at him. But he just holds you there, an unimpressed eyebrow raised as he watches you fight his unyielding hold on you.

“Poor little girl,” he says, tilting his head to watch you yowl and snap at him. “Haven’t even come down from crawling out of your grave. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you, then.”

So, instead of killing you, he just tightens his hand around your neck, crushing it beneath his strong fingers.

You part your lips to gasp again, but you can’t even breathe past his hold, and so you just look up at him, eyes wide and unfocused as you slowly start to go limp.

He leans his face closer, dragging you forward with his hand until your noses are almost touching. His red eyes flash as he meets your dazed expression. “You,” he says, voice slow, treating you like you’re stupid, some animal, and maybe you are, because even now all you want to do is be free and attack him, “are what we call a feral fledgling, now. You’re just running on instinct, but you need to learn to behave. Because if you attack me again, or any other vampire lord, or if you do anything to reveal us to the humans, we won’t hesitate to kill you.”

You let out a whine, but past his hand around your neck, it’s nothing but a puff of air. He grins maliciously. “That’s right. So you’re going to have to learn to be a good little girl. You gonna learn?”

Like he said, you don’t really have a choice. So you nod, trying to rasp a “yes” past his chokehold on you.

He chuckles, and it sounds like a growl as he leans in again, his cool breath fanning over your cheeks. “Good girl,” he says, and then he drops his hold on you, and you collapse to the ground, gasping for air and coughing. He looks down at you with disdain. “Once you get yourself together,” he continues, his tone derisive, “you can come find my clan in Shibuya.”

And with that he turns his back on you and leaves you there, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When you arrive in Shibuya, it’s not exactly where you expect a centuries-old vampire to be living.

You almost expected a castle, something straight out of fantasy novels, instead of the upscale high rise apartment building that now stands in front of you. You wonder for a moment if you are, indeed, in the right place, but then the front door to the building opens and out comes a short, hunched figure hobbling towards you.

You blink down at the creature; with pale bluish-gray skin, one large eye in the middle of his face, and a distinct volcano on the top of his head, he surely didn’t look like the vampire lord who changed you.

“Come on,” the creature grumbles, waving you inside. “The sun’s about to rise.”

So you step inside the lobby of the apartment building, following him towards the elevator.

He hands you a set of keys, attached to a keychain with your first and last name on it. You wonder how he got that information, but then just shake the thought away, deciding you didn’t want to know what Sukuna has learned about you since your death.

“Your room is on the third floor,” the creature explains, “with the rest of the spawn. Lord Sukuna will come to gather you when he is ready.”

“Um,” you hedge, trying not to stare but ultimately failing. “You…you don’t look like…a normal vampire? Are you…special?”

He rolls his one large eye at you. “Nosferatu are cursed to appear this way,” he explains. And he leaves it at that, as the door to the elevator dings open. “You are to remain in your rooms until Lord Sukuna arrives.” Then he hobbles away, leaving you shell shocked and still full of questions with your set of keys in your hand.

You make your way to the third floor, glancing around the halls and at the doors you pass on your way. Most of the apartments on the floor seem uninhabited, until you reach the end of the hall and you see two dark-haired men in conversation. They both turn to look over when you appear and tentatively walk towards them.

One of them, the taller of the two, had long black hair cascading down his back, half tied up in a bun. His violet eyes carefully watch you as you approach, seemingly curious about your arrival. The other, with dark chestnut hair tied up in two spiky ponytails at the back of his head, keeps his face slightly averted, looking almost shy as you walk over.

“Hello,” greeted the taller of the two, his voice low and smooth, gentle, almost. “We weren’t aware we were gaining another member of the clan. My name’s Suguru.”

You introduce yourself, then glance over at the other man, now noticing the tattoo across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He keeps his brown eyes down, almost respectfully, and murmurs, “Choso.”

Suguru is still watching you. “We were just discussing when our next hunt would be. Would you like to join? We can show you around.”

You hesitate. You can’t deny the gnawing hunger inside you, the thirst that still burns your throat, the desperate need to feed again. But the nosferatu told you to wait until Sukuna found you… You say, “I’m not sure I can. I’m supposed to be…seeing Sukuna before I leave at all.”

Both of them stiffen a little at the way you say his name, eyes flashing to examine you, to see the soft glow in your eyes that tell them you must be very, very new to still address him so familiarly. “Lord Sukuna,” Suguru corrects you quietly. “It would do you well to remember that.” Then he nods. “We’ll wait for you to be ready, then. We’ll take you to our regular haunts and show you the ropes. How’s that sound?”

You just nod, not sure if you really have a choice in the matter. You’re not yet sure what your hierarchy will be now, as a part of this vampire clan. And so you excuse yourself and continue walking past them, to an apartment at the end of the hall. You put your key into the lock and turn, and then you swing the door open to reveal your new home inside.

It’s the nicest place you’d ever lived.

It’s strangely modern, for someone who has lived for centuries to inhabit. There’s a floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, and every space is decorated with minimalist and modern taste. Everything is fully furnished, ready to be used, ready to be lived in for years and years, as part of your new, second life.

And so you step inside, and you make yourself at home, waiting for Sukuna – Lord Sukuna – to come find you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx previous chapter | next chapter

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.

Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.

The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.

"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"

Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.

"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.

"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.

"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."

He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.

"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.

"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.

"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."

You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.

"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."

You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.

You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.

"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"It doesn't really matter. It's over."

"It matters to me."

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."

He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."

Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"

You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."

He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"

"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."

"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."

How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?

"How do you look at me?"

"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."

It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.

Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.

"It does?" you ask finally.

He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."

You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.

You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.

He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."

[pinkrangermemes]

EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

[scarlethexelove]

Hi it‘s me again. I was just thinking something like your kate fic where reader is with wandanat or agatha and goes through some tough times maybe with depression, anxiety or self harm and they help reader through it? your kate fic really helped me because I‘m going through those things right now and it gives me so much comfort🖤 ty for your amazing writing truly!!

We're Here

Image found on pinterest

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1482

Warnings: Depression, ⚠️Self Harm⚠️, Blood, Fluff, Anxiety, Soft Wanda, Soft Nat

A/n: I had started writing a whole different fic and didn't like it for this so I changed it up and wrote this one instead. I hope you like it. I was trying not to cry while writing it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Your chest hurts as your mind races with swirling thoughts. You aren’t good enough for them. They deserve so much better than you. No one should have to look after you; they don’t deserve that burden. You, you are the burden in their life. You deserve to be alone, to suffer alone. Not for them to take care of you. 

You can’t take the thoughts anymore. That pain that burns deep in your chest making it hard to breathe. You somehow find the energy to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You search looking for the one thing you know will help. It’s the only way to make the pain stop. You sigh when you find it. The small shiny piece of sharp metal. An escape. 

You sit on the floor holding the razor in your hand. You hesitate for a moment looking at it in your hand. They will be so disappointed in you if you do it or they will finally realize just how messed up you are and finally leave you. Your mind battles against itself as you stare at the one thing you know can help. But those dark thoughts win out. You know it will be better if you push them away. Making them hate you for just how broken and messed up you are. 

With a deep breath the cold metal drags across your skin digging in deep. The thin line turns white before crimson seeps through. Small little bubbles of blood form on the line before they become so big it starts to drip down your arm. The pain from your chest slowly starts to dissipate as you feel the pain from the blade. So you do it again. Another line draws across your skin. You watch the blood dripping down your arm. 

The more you cut the more you feel free. It becomes easier to breathe and the pain in your chest is gone. You focus on the pain that makes it all feel better, the blood dripping down calming those thoughts in your mind as it distracts everything. 

You’re so distracted by the blood and the shift in your pain that you didn’t hear the door to your bedroom open, but a loud gasp pulls you from your thoughts. Your eyes shift up seeing Wanda her hand slapped over her mouth as she looks down upon you. Tears filling her eyes which only make tears fill yours. Natasha steps in view behind Wanda as she hears her gasp. She holds her breath when her eyes land on you. The tears that shine in your eyes are now escaping, cascading down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god detka!” Nat pulls from her shock and jumps into action. She moves past a still very shocked Wanda grabbing a hand towel and crouching down in front of you. She presses the towel to your arm and presses down hard. You can’t help the hiss you let out as the towel makes contact with your torn skin. “I’m sorry.” You sob. 

Wanda finally comes back to reality as she quickly moves to sit down beside you. She pulls the rest of your body into hers as Nat keeps holding the towel to your arm trying to get the bleeding to stop. You sob into Wanda’s chest as you continue to repeat I’m sorry over and over again. Wanda just shushed you and kissed your head as she held you close. “You’re ok sweetheart. We got you.” She continues to hold and whisper reassuring words in your ear. 

It takes a few minutes before you calm down, but as you do it starts to sink in on what you have done. “You don’t deserve this. I’m not worth it.” You whisper as you slightly pull back from Wanda. She shakes her head. “Moya lyubov' we love you more than anything and we just want to be here for you.” You just look down not wanting to meet her gaze feeling embarrassed. “Detka, do you want to tell us why?” Nat speaks up. You sigh. “It hurt. I just wanted it to stop.” Your voice is low. “What hurt sweetheart?” Wanda asks, wanting you to clarify. “Ev-Everything. My chest hurt and it was so hard to breathe. I just wanted it to stop.” You anxiously chew on your lip waiting for the women to respond. 

The room is silent as the women mull over your words. “Why didn’t you call us?” Wanda asks you. You look down not knowing how to answer her. She gently lifts your chin with her finger so that you are looking at her. She has a sad smile on her face and tears shining in her eyes. You pull your thoughts together because they deserve to know. “I didn’t want to bother you. You two deserve to be happy. To not have to worry about me. I’m broken.” 

“You’re not broken malyshka. You are so strong and we love you so much. All we want to do is help you.” Nat’s words are soft. You turn to look at her. She wears a soft expression as she looks at you. “We want to spend the rest of our lives with you Y/n. You mean the world to us. I will spend every day for the rest of my life telling you that you are loved and you are worthy of love if that is what it takes.” She continues her hand coming to cup your cheek. Wanda shifts in front of you so that you can look at both of them. “When you are down and feel like the world is caving in on you I will be there to protect you to keep those walls from caving in on you.” Wanda smiles at you. Their words bring a small smile to your face. 

Your mind was wrong. They do love you and maybe you do deserve their love. They have been here to catch you every time you fall. You know it won’t always be easy but they will always be there to reassure you. Your mind will play tricks on you but they will show you what's real. 

Nat pulls the towel from your arm and sees that the bleeding has mostly stopped. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we can have a movie day in our pajamas.” You nod and smile. Nat lifts you up onto the counter as Wanda goes into the bedroom. Nat grabs the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink and starts to clean up your arm. You grit your teeth as she does. “I’m sorry detka.” She apologizes for causing you any pain. “It’s not your fault Natty.” You tell her knowing that this is all of your own accord. 

Wanda wanders back in with a stack of pajamas for all of you to wear as Nat finishes up. She wraps a bandage around your arm then leans in pecking your lips making you giggle. Your giggle is music to their ears glad to see you feeling a bit better. Wanda proceeds to give you a peck too. They then help you get changed before changing themselves. You give Wanda grabby hands as you're still sitting on the counter. She chuckles, moving to pick you up. You wrap your legs tightly around her waist and bury your head in her neck. She carries you into the bedroom with Nat following behind. 

Wanda places you on the bed and crawls in next to you. Nat crawls in on the other side of you. They make sure to sandwich you in between them letting you know that they are there for you and they aren’t going anywhere. You cuddle in close to both of them as Nat puts on one of your favorite movies to watch. “Thank you both for everything.” They both smile at you. “We love you Y/n no need to thank us.” Nat tells you. “But I wanted to.” You nuzzle into her a little. “We will always be here for you.” Wanda adds. 

You all settle in the bed as the movie plays on the screen in front of you. Your eyes drooping in exhaustion. “It’s ok to sleep detka.” Wanda tells you her fingers gliding through your hair. “Mmm I love you.” You whisper as you finally let your eyes fully close. “We love you too.” Nat kisses your head as she holds onto you tightly. “Sweet dreams sweetheart.” Wanda murmurs against your head.

You know that you will have to have more conversations about what happened today but that will be for later. But right now all you need is their love and comfort. With that you know that you can make it through this. So you finally let yourself drift off to sleep. Feeling all the love that you never thought that you deserved. 

[hanasnx]

just like a daddy should

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: this concept of dark!hayden is co-created/developed by @xstarkillerx | dead dove do not eat for emphasis on age gap relationship and heavy daddy kink content. dark!hayden is an au, it does not reflect my view of hayden christensen as a person. in this au he's not an actor. WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | f!reader | dark!hayden | daddy content | age gap | problematic behavior | ass patting | mild exhibitionism | no y/n

Your heels clack against the wooden boards of the stairs, climbing them to invite yourself onto the resort staging set above the beach. The bodyguard steps aside for you, he knows who you're here with.

"—liquidating that branch'll do nothing for you here. You'll be bleeding yourself—" the sound of DARK!HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN's voice soothes your worries, approaching where he lounges on a cushioned chair. His elbow is hooked onto the corner of it, and his leg is folded up to rest his ankle on his knee. His outfit remarkably smart, white linen shirt tucked into gray dress pants and a thin black belt. Never mind his comfort, you ignore his companion, interrupt his conversation, and invite yourself onto his lap. He sees the stressed lines of your brows, and makes room for you right as you take your seat.

"Daddy." you whine. The strings of your micro-bikini catch on his clothes, and he discretely tugs down a cup to cover a bit more of the curve of your chest that'd been revealed. You frown at your hand, "I broke a nail. And I just got these done!" you cry, hopelessly examining the dejected state of your cracked acrylic, and you feel his breath against your shoulder as he looks over it. Gently, he envelopes your hand in his, drawing it in his line of sight.

"Oh, duchess, let me see." he sympathizes you, studying what you offer him while he palms your bare thigh. "Don't worry. We'll fix it later. I've gotta take care of some things here." he coos, his lips murmuring against your ear that shoots tingles up your spine. You sought comfort and attention, and that's exactly what he's given you. Hayden can see out of the corner of his eye how his associate cannot take his eyes off of you, nor the shameless display before him.

Hayden notes how rude you are, how you have no manners, ignoring his companion, neglecting to introduce yourself. The tenacity of being young and naive is so deliciously novel to him. So much so it brings entertained curls to the corners of his mouth. You pivot more into Hayden's direction, his hand sliding against your back as you do, and he settles into the cushion when you lean into him. Curious fingers latch onto the collar of his button-up, widening it's opening to expose more of his chest. Fingertips toy with the lines of his collarbones, watching yourself fidget, pouting at it. "I miss you." you say, hushed, and meet his patient gaze. He says nothing, so you take it as your cue to leave. You push off him, planting your high heels on the floor to stand. In newfound giddy energy, you show off your ass to him. "What do you think of my new tattoo?"

A little tramp stamp is visible right above your low waistband. As he lingers a glance on it, his expression hardens, and his voice lowers, "We'll talk about this later." A pat on your ass is your signal to get going, intent to avoid making a scene here. No one said you can get a tattoo, tattoos are too grown for your virgin skin. To diffuse the tension he knows he's caused, he calls after you casually, "Wait for me at the bar. Order me something, huh? Surprise me."

His associate looks after you, gaze glued to the way your hips sway as you recede. You're young, and he can't pin down what your relationship to Hayden is exactly. When he shifts his attention back to Hayden, he's met with a hint of a prideful smile. "Sorry about that. My buddy's daughter. We're close, you know?"

[threepandas]

Bad End: Superior

When you join the military, there's a certain level of assumed risk. You're already aware that they're probably going to ask you to do things. Some of which? You might not be cool with. Internally, you have to decide where you'll be drawing the line. Where "just following orders" fucking ENDS. Especially, when, you join the military... and they assign you someplace that dumps a stack of NDAs in front of you to sign.

That stack had been about as big as a toddler.

And then... then there WERE toddlers. A compound. Deep in the ass pit of no where. Technology so cutting edge, I'm genuinely surprised it doesn't bleed people to turn on. The project? Fucking Super Soldiers.

Because of COURSE it would be.

Fuck Ethics, am I right? Rights? Those are for government officials! Now follow orders and shut up, or we'll direct your attention to the miles of uninterrupted wilderness, in which NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU. But, hey! You can't technically call us monsters! We're PAYING you~!

So obviously it's YOUR fault!

Every day. Every SINGLE DAY. I felt sick.

This isn't what I signed up for. How the HELL does this protect anybody? Serve ANYBODY? I felt unclean. Lost weight. My sleep cycle was a wreck. I... I couldn't fucking DO this, and it SHOWED.

I was clearly the weak link.

While others settled in? I got tense. Worn down. Sick. My contract stated I HAD to finish my rotation, so that's what was going to happen. And if the medic had to put me on sleep meds? So be it. If I had to take anti-anxiety pills? Down the hatch. Everything was shit and I FELT like shit.

I should have bagged groceries, fuck "better pay".

The guys here? Were so, SO shitty to the Soldiers. Like it was THEIR fault they might replace us. Like they even WANTED too or were give a fucking CHOICE. I had no idea how any of this was legal. Was pretty sure it WASN'T. I just... I just wanted OUT.

Room to breathe. To process my fucking horror, you know?

Instead? Day after day. I got up. Swallowed more and more fucking pills. Felt more and more exhausted and run down. Checked one more god forsaken day off the calendar until I could get OUT of here. Dressed, in uniform, and looking only halfway like I wanted to die. Try to get some breakfast.

Inevitably, INEVITABLY, have to fucking stop and interfere, with some shit head messing with a Solider. Usually one of the smaller ones. The kids. Because the big ones could Fight BACK. Break a man in fuck HALF. So the cowards went after kids instead.

Fuckers.

Get to breakfast late. Oops! They tossed out the leftovers! Didn't think you were cooooming~ Bullshit. It's retribution for stopping their fucked up games. Ratting them out to the scientists. The brass. Shoves as they go pass. Make my own damn breakfast. As I always do.

Eat alone.

Go to my office. Far side of the compound. Pass a shit ton of Soldiers. The little ones always stare. Like owls. Used to be creepy, got over it. It's how they learn. Do the jackasses honestly think? That putting me in the glorified broom closet, that is the satellite security office, is a punishment? Ha!

I stole a mini fridge weeks ago. Built a fucking nest in here.

It's like a second bunk.

Unlike SOME PEOPLE, the Soldiers actually fucking behave themselves. Honestly, they behave a little TOO much. I'm technically supposed to report a lot of the little behaviors I've seen so they can be "corrected". But would you look at THAT! I was on my break! Oh look, a painting. What's this? A text? Oops. I Saw NOTHING.

Eat shit and DIE, Dr. Atrocities!

At least... that's how my day is SUPPOSED to go. Something's? Weird.

I can't place it. But no one else seems to have NOTICED, so it HAS to probably have something to do with the Soldiers. Since I seem to be the only one on this fucking compound that actually LOOKS looks at them. Notices them, you know? Alpha isn't where he's supposed to be.

He's the OG. The proof of concept. Our so called "perfect" Soldier. He's usually in the center of the pack, leading around various Soldiers task to task. Giving orders. Generally in charge. If you look for HIM, you can get a read on things. Figure out what's up. But...

Huh.

No Alpha. No first series. Not even second wave. Worse, none of the cadets. There SHOULD be at least a FEW munchkins hanging around. Observing this or that. Following SOMEBODY like lil Owl ducklings. Yet? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just... general Soldiers...

The little hairs prickle on the back of my neck. A stone settles in my gut. I... I decide to skip breakfast. Not hungry. Don't feel like cooking. It... it has nothing to do with the fact that my office? Has some SERIOUS blast doors. Legit bunker all on its own. Even it's own air supply, for a while.

Y...you know,

In CASE.

They never told us... what "in case" WAS.

But if I walker a little faster then normal? Don't make eye contact with anybody? Can't... Can't HELP but notice? Even HERE, where there SHOULD be a shit ton of diversity? There fucking ISN'T? Well that's between me and the blast doors.

Just three doors away from my office when the Emergency Alarm System goes off.

I fucking BOLT the remaining distance.

Throwing myself inside my office, I SLAM the door closed. Engage the highest level locks possible. Something in my gut is screaming at me. The long seconds it takes to slide into place with a mountainous THUNK, feel like an eternity. Muffled, the alarm howl on outside. I... I think I hear gun fire. Shit.

I throw myself into my chair.

Systems, up. Screens, On. What is HAPPENING?

Horror awaits me. The Carnage I always half knew was coming.

The Soldiers are armed. Synchronized. As though this were just another seige simulation. There is a VICIOUSNESS to their actions, as they cut down the doctors. Hunt down the soldier's that abused them. Held them here. They are freeing themselves and will not rest until every soul in this base is DEAD.

Fuck.

I both understand but unfortunately, kinda want to LIVE.

There's no way I'll be able to get past them. Their senses are better then mine. They are faster then me. Stronger then me. Generally BETTER then me. They were DESIGNED to be. I can... can only wait them out... hopefully.

Alpha is nearly a blur. Every shot hitting its mark. The guns becoming bludgeoning weapons when bullets run out. Table and chairs, people and armor, everything around him improvised weaponry. He's grinning like he's never had more fun in his life. Like he's FINALLY been allowed to cut loose after so long holding back.

His head is on the swivel though. Searching? For what?

The other base line's try to hold the line but...

I close my eyes. Their screams echoing through tinny speakers in my tiny office. They were absolute fucking bastards. I... I HATED them. But no one... NO ONE deserves to go like this. Oh god. According to protocol, I need to send the emergency alarm again if the cut the main office.

There's a "break glass" box I've been curious about but never thought I'd ever have to OPEN. High up on a shelf. My legs feel shakey, but I get it.

They gave me a key when they assigned me to this office. Shoved in among everything else. A lazy afterthought. Part of my uniform. Now, I take it from around my neck and unlock the box.

One standard gun and a small vial of suicide pills.

Oh god.

"She's not here. Spread out."

My head snaps up to the screens. As though somehow that will change the horrifying words I just heard Alpha say. The alarms still wail, red lights flashing, but the hallways have... oh god, have fallen silent. Bodies line them. Blood staining the God forsaken white I've come to hate so much. Alpha looks so relaxed.

Pleased even. Like everything has gone exactly as he's planned.

One of the first series hand him a pad uncaring of his bloody hands. Chances are high that samn thing is connected to the servers. It looks like on of the scientists. I watch in dread as Alpha's eyes scroll across it. As it taps through several screens. Hums. He grins.

He rolls his head up, as though merely stretching his shoulders and neck, an almost loose and lazy act. If it weren't for the INTENT in his smile. The predatory look in his eyes. Up and over his shoulder. Too look behind him at the camera.

Directly At Me.

Fuck, he knows.

He hands off the pad with an almost lazy toss. Turning sharply to march forward in a way that made me think of wolves. My hand closed around the gun in the box before me, breathing turning shallow, as I watched him take a direct path towards me. Why? WHY? Is it because I'm the only one who's left?

My eyes tracked to the other screens. The agony there.

The little bottle that offered a way out.

I... fuck it, I wasn't waiting. I slammed my hand down on the back up Emergency Alarm. Even if they cut the main office now, mine would still sent the alert. And... oh god. And at least, this should be FAST. I popped the bottle open. Gun aimed at the door. Bottle in my off hand, ready to go. I tried to remember what i was told to do. Just... just pop, chew, and swallow.

It'll only hurt for a moment.

Better then THAT, I guess, but it was... it was so fucked up.

Alpha was coming down the hall. N... No more stalling. My eye sight blurred. Hands fucking shook. God, damn it. God DAMN IT! I didn't even want to BE HERE! W...WHY?! Why did it have too-!?

It... it didn't matter.

Not now.

Not anymore, I guess.

I threw the pills back. Chewed. They were bitter. Salty. Swallowed. Some part of my brain whispered... that... that wasn't right. I recognized the poison on the bottle. Shouldn't it be swee-? No, focus. Keep your gun steady. What's done is done. No going back.

Alpha was outside my office.

"Interesting door, princess." He said, projecting his voice so I could hear it through the blast doors. I could see him. Standing dead center of a squad of Soldiers. They crowded the hallway in a loose half circle. "Looks real secure! Rather safe. But why all the hiding, sweetheart? A man might get his feelings hurt. Think you're running AWAY from him or something. And you KNOW we can't have THAT!"

"So I suggest you open up... before I Do It For You."

My hands were shaking. More and more. Heart pounding. Mouth felt... dry? It was happening. Limbs felt weak. My vision swam a little then refocused. Did so again. Again... AGAIN, louder, my brain insisted that wasn't right. These were the wrong symptoms. But... but who CARED, right? Fatal is fatal.

But... but only if it IS.

What if...

A horrific screech of metal. I jerked my head to look at the screen for the hallway out side. No. No he can't possibly-! Arm wrapped in spare armor, likely taken from some poor man's corpse, Alpha's RIGHT ARM is elbow deep in the door.

I watch, numb, as he draw it to the side. Bending screeching, groaning metal out of his way as he does. Lock components carelessly ripped out. Dumped on the floor. My breathing comes faster. I can barely see. It's... fuck. It's been too long for the pills to have been what they said they were.

Someone switched them.

What the HELL did I swallow?

I watch helplessly as my supposed bunker is forced open. A flimsy wooden door the last barrier. It swings open. I fuckin shoot. No one was there, because of course not, he's not an idiot. I just... I JUST-! A hand, calloused and stronger then steel, wraps around mine. Grip tight as it gently forces the gun away and to the side. Drags it from my grip.

I can't move... my arm falls limp at my side as the last of my strength and focus fade away. Colors are blurry at the edges. Alpha LOOMS. Tall and powerful in a way that terrifies me. I tried to be polite to the guy. Keep my distance. Clearly... clearly wasn't enough... God, I'm so scared. Please...

"Oh~ Look At YOU~" he breathes, hands that wreak of copper coming up to cradle my feverish face. Crowding close as he traps me against my chair. "Tried to take the easy way out, huh? Naughty girl. That's not gonna a fun one. But you'd have to learn eventually that you can't run, so might as well, huh? Don't worry, sweetness. Alpha team's got you."

I try to move. Protest. Anything. But my limbs won't respond. I feel lips, possessive and demanding, against my own.

"God, you're so fucking cute, pathetic like this~" Alpha groans, clearly fighting the impulse to let his hands roam "Wish it was just us. I've got MONTHS to make up. Second I find us a bed, princess, I promise. I'll take you APART~"

He reaches out, casually, to shut the alarms down. The compound falling silent. The... the other alarm was deactivated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him effortlessly type in the "all clear" code with one hand. As though he'd practiced. He... he had, hadn't he... oh god, I was trapped.

"Shhhh, sweetness. No more tears. Just you 'n me, 'gainst the world, yeah? We're going to be PERFECT. I've got it all planned out."

"Now let's get you down to the labs. It's time to make you superior."

[callofdudes]

Can I request TF141 x Reader where they’re on a mission til suddenly Y/n got into a fight by the enemy. Til she went trigger bringing out the savage beast and started to kill the enemy who get into her way. TF141 are shock what they’re seeing. They try to calm Y/n but she lost control and about to attack them. Price brought out a record tape that Lasewell give it to him and told him to play it for Y/n calm down just in case. Once Y/n hear the lullaby song the voice from her mother she started to cry and passed out.

Take all the time you need. No need to rush. Btw I love your work. I read all of them.

Ah, thank you for the request. I'm glad you enjoy my writing @silverwolf-108 I realized that you'd sent in a second and third request so I thought I needed to hop to it and finish this one for you!

A/n: I made the tape an ipod instead, I hope you don't mind, it's a bit easier to play quickly in a frantic situation.

Also thank you for being so patient with me, you are an angel 😊😅

The battle had gone on long and hard. Bullets sprayed across the field, wind whipping around you and the boys. Ghost was hidden back against a shed, practically pinned down and unable to move while Johnny bled out. He cupped the sergeants cheek to try and keep him awake, his heart beating out of his chest.

"Y/n!! Find cover!" Simon urges.

He turns back to Johnny, trying to keep him awake.

Your heart pounds out of your chest. Everything is a blur and it's way too much for you. Too stimulating. A bullet whizzes by your hair, blood rushing through your ears.

Your fingers start to itch on your gun, wanting to pull the trigger on these motherfuckers and give them a piece of your fucking mind.

You look back at your team, trying to hide for cover as well. Gaz is tucked into Price's shoulder, hiding against the ground to try and survive the bullet spray.

"Johnny!! Open your eyes sergeant!! We're not done here!"

You see Simon in desperation and Johnny's limp body. It's all too much. Your heart lurches in your chest and you feel like you're going to puke.

Blood drips from Johnny's chest and you lose it. Seeing his blood makes you violent. Animalistic.

You regrip your gun and run from your hiding spot.

"Soldier!!" Price yells at you.

You can't hear, blood rushes in your ears. You throw a smoke grenade one way and take out the two soldiers closest to you. You disregard their fallen bodies and run into the smoke.

You raise the stock of your gun and hit another man upside the head and send him down to the ground.

You drop your gun and grab your knife, grabbing another man by the throat and carving it out and up his jaw. Blood spilled across your face and you kick his body away.

They try to shoot you through the smoke, bullets whizzing and whipping by you but never touching.

You shoot two more men and advance on the others.

Everything is red. Murder and blood was all too much. Too stimulating. Your fingers itch as the smoke clears. Another soldier attempts to take hold of you, your blade meeting him first, followed by you snapping his neck before he has the chance to bleed out.

Another soldier grabs you but you sink your blade into his shoulder, chopping and hacking away at the spot before drawing a deep line across the expanse of his chest.

You don't stop to catch your breath, throwing your knife into the forehead of another man.

Two men grab you and pull you back. You snarl, kicking in the dirt and grab another knife, slicing it into one of the men's wrists and pulling him around and swinging him into the other men.

"I will not let you touch my family." You growl before sinking your blade into his chest and twisting it around in the cavity. The second man tries to get up and run but you slice his leg and slam your blade into the back of his head, blood spilling and splattering across the ground.

The 141 watches in horror and shock. The men that just moments ago were about the kill them all were now being demolished by you. What had happened.

Simon watches, honestly impressed. Though he'd kick your butt for pulling such a stunt and putting yourself in the way like that.

He clutches Johnny tightly to his chest, another bullet whipping past his head before you rip the man's gun from his hands and smash the side right into his face.

Another bullet whizzes by and Price pulls Gaz against his chest, breathing heavy. "It'll be ok, it'll be ok." He reminds Gaz, watching you from where they were hiding with shock and is just as impressed as Simon. Although he sees where your safety is in immediate danger.

Your heart is still beating out of your chest even when things slow and the soldiers are gone.

Using the soldiers gun you shoot down more of the soldiers until the troops begin to slow in numbers.

The last of the soldiers run at you and you hit him with the stock, slamming him on the ground and stomping on his head, cracking it and splattering more blood across the ground.

Price sits up and looks at you, he's not sure if he should congratulate you or slap you over the head.

You just stand there, hunched over and breathing heavily. Your fingers itch, bloody blade still clutched in your hand while you try to recover some semblance of thought.

Gaz gets up from his spot and rushes out to see if you're ok. "Y/n, wh-what was that??"

His footsteps make your head twitch. His hand grazes your shoulder and you push him back, throwing him into the dirt.

Price grabs you and pulls you into a roll with him, ripping you away from Gaz. Your blade drops from your hands and narrowly misses Gaz's eye, slicing a cut against his forehead.

Price is already reacting when he sees you climb on top of Gaz and raise your blade. Gaz tries to kick you off, trying to get away.

You snarl at him, your eyes are dark and he can see that you're not in there, not fully present right now. His heart lurches when the blade starts to come down and he scrunches his eyes tightly.

Price tries to hold you down while you scream and kick and squirm. You hit him with all your might, trying to take him down but he's just so much stronger than you.

Price firmly but lovingly holds you against him, shielding you from the world.

"I'll bloody murder you!!" You scream, trying to bite him.

You grew distressed and uncomfortable in his arms. Too tight, tol restricting, to unsafe. You scream again, trying to kick and punch and spit.

"It's ok y/n, it's ok, it's just us. It's just us." He tries to soothe you with his voice but it's not affective.

You continue to kick and squirm, hitting him in the shoulder and trying to bite his arm.

And then he remembers protocol. He'd been given a rundown on this when you'd joined the 141.

"Gaz, check my bag!"

Gaz whines, clutching his bleeding forehead but rushes to complete the task and searches Price's bag. "When you find and old ipod let me know."

Gaz keeps digging until he finds the phone at 100 percent. "Got it."

"Play the first song, now!"

"Is now the time for songs, captain??"

"Kyle Garrick do it now!!"

Gaz is shaking as he presses play and a soft moldy starts. He holds it's closer to you and your fighting starts to slow. Your nails dig into Price's forearm and your bottom lip quivers.

You go limp and burst into sobs. Hot, wet tears flow down your face and your breathing gets faster. You cling to Price now instead of trying to fight him.

You clutch his gear, trying to breath through heavy tears.

Price runs his hand over your head. "It's ok sergeant, take a deep breath soldier. Take a deep breath."

You whimper and exhaustion floods your body, and your eyes close.

Gaz pauses the music as you fall asleep in Price's arms, curled up in his safety and his warmth.

"What... Just happened??"

"Classified sergeant. But it's over now." He strokes your hair gently. "Now we need to get both Y/n and Johnny out of here now."

Simon comes over, still a little stunned with a shivering, weak Johnny in his arms.

They all move to the evac site where they meet medical. They take both of you and fly their soldiers back to base.

Price is nervous for you to wake up, but he sits the boys down for a chat to try and explain what happened as much as he can. it brings a bit of light to the subject, but doesn't change the fact that Ghost and Gaz didn't see it coming and are a stunned.

Ghost had never seen anything like it. The absolute rage that drove you into that battle like a madwoman.

Nonetheless they were all happy that they survived, it was all thanks to you.

You woke up a day later, exhausted and tired, but alive. You didn't all remember what happened. You remember you were fighting, and then you were cradled in Price's arms. Looking back on it felt like a mindless blur.

You slowly sat up, seeing small wounds of yours patched and stitched.

In the next bed lay Johnny, out cold with bandages tightly wrapped around his chest.

The door opened and you snapped up to look as Price, Ghost and Gaz come in.

"Guys!" You smile and hold your arms out for hugs. Price hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Ghost pats your head and Gaz also hugs you.

You notice the bandage on his forehead and brush your thumb over it. You don't like to see them hurt.

"Who did this to you, Gaz?"

Gaz smiles awkwardly. "Just some guy on the field, but with how you were hacking around I think you got him."

You clutched your head when you felt a sharp headache come on. "I... I don't remember much... I'm sorry."

Price takes your hand and squeezes it. "You were very brave y/n, you saved our asses back there. You don't have to remember it for it to have happened."

You look up at him and nod. "Thank you."

Ghost moves closer to you and grumbles under his breath. "I don't know what the bloody fuck you were doin', but you could have gotten yourself killed!!" He sighs and squeezes you in a tight hug, surprising you.

"So bloody glad you're alive. You hear me??"

You hug him back and smile. "I hear you lieutenant."

He pulls away and leans over the other bed, clutching Johnny's limp hand in his own.

"What about Johnny??" You ask.

They all look over at Johnny who is still unconscious and breathing quietly. The heartbeat monitor near his bedside plays in soft smooth rhythms.

"Johnny is alright. Lost a lot of blood and needs rest, but he is doing ok."

You sigh in relief. Price helps you off your bedside and you shake out your sore limbs. "I think I'm gonna go rest in my room for a bit... Thank you."

"Of course sergeant, call us if you need us."

"Will do Captain."

You headed down to your room, still with a headache you crawled into your nice warm bed, and drifted asleep. The anxiety and overstimulation got to you sometimes on the field, reminding you of things and sending you into overdrive fight mode.

But I guess this time it really did save your asses. Johnny doesn't remember anything, but he'll thank you for saving them regardless.

And they all lived happily ever after, I hope you like it 😊

[nicksalchemy1]

Bleed To Love Her

Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Hunting with Dean after Sam had been thrown in the cage with Lucifer and Micheal was doozy. Coming across a hunt that brings up a hunt that still haunts you; the one that caused your father’s death, you revisit the case with Dean.

You had been hunting with Dean for a few months now, ever since Sam was trapped in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. You were childhood friends, and you had a crush on him for as long as you could remember. But you never acted on it, because you knew was a womanizer. And then there was Lisa, the woman he had tried to settle down with during his year off from hunting. You knew he still loved her, even though he left her for your sake.

You were on a case in Colorado, tracking down a shapeshifter that had been killing people and taking their identities. You had a bad feeling about this one, because it reminded you of something that happened to you when you were a kid. Something you never told Dean, or anyone else.

"So, I found this case." you interject as he drove the Impala along the highway.

"What's the word on the street?" he said, glancing at you.

"Yeah, this, uh, case is different."

He frowned, and waited patiently till you spoke up.

"Okay? C’mon, spit it out."

You took a deep breath, and began to spill.

"When I was ten years old, my dad and I were hunting a shapeshifter. It was our first time dealing with one. We tracked it down to an abandoned warehouse, where it had a bunch of victims locked up in cages. We tried to free them, but the shifter ambushed us. It knocked me out, and dragged me to another room. When I woke up, I saw it standing over me. It had taken my dad's form. It smiled at me, and said 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do this.' And then it stabbed him in the chest, right in front of me. I screamed, and it laughed. It said 'Don't worry, I'll make it quick for you too.' It raised the knife again, but I kicked it in the groin, and ran for the door. I managed to escape, but I never saw my dad again. He was dead, and I couldn't save him."

You paused, taking a shaky breath, feeling the old fear mingling with fresh determination.

"I think it's back, Dean. The monster we're hunting now, I see the patterns, the signs. It's him. It's the same one."

For a long moment, Dean didn't speak. Then, with a nod that was all business, he said, "Then this just got personal for both of us."

The plan was simple yet risky: you would act as bait to draw the creature out. Dean hated it, you could tell by the way his brow furrowed and his lips formed a thin line, but he knew as well as you did that it was the best shot you had.

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," Dean said as you wired yourself with hidden blades and a concealed microphone.

"I'm not the one who usually breaks that promise," you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn't smile.

The night was cold and unforgiving as you took your position in the abandoned warehouse where the creature had last been seen. The wait was excruciating, every shadow a potential threat, every sound a possible approach.

Then, it was there. The monster, a grotesque figure from nightmares past, stepped from the shadows. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you held your ground.

The creature lunged, and you fought with everything you had learned since that fateful night. It was stronger than you remembered, but so were you. Just as it seemed to gain the upper hand, you plunged a blade into its heart, sending it back to the hell it came from.

But victory came at a cost. You were injured, worse than you realized, and as Dean rushed to your side, his face a mask of fury and fear, you knew you were in for it.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean's voice was a low growl as he checked your wounds.

"I had to end it, Dean," you said, wincing in pain.

"That was reckless, and you could've—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide with a realization. "Dammit, Lisa, I—"

The name hung between you, a ghost from his past that had no place in your present.

You injuries suddenly became meaningless. What remained was the pain of knowing that, in some part of his mind, you were replaceable.

All of your fears were confirmed. Were you ever truly seen, or were you just a placeholder, a shape to fill a void that Lisa had left open? Did your name ever rest as comfortably on his tongue as hers evidently still did?

"Dean," you started, a coldness settling in your chest. "My name is not Lisa."

The silence that followed was deafening. His eyes, now filled with regret, said everything his voice couldn’t seem to find the words for.

"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"You think I can't handle myself? That I'm not strong enough?" Your voice rose, a mix of hurt and anger making your words sharp.

"That's not it," Dean said quickly, shaking his head. "It was a slip up, a mistake—“

“Saying her name or the fact that I believed that you liked me?” You accused, a bitter smile on your face.

The tension between you and Dean was palpable as you both returned to the motel room, the weight of his slip of the tongue hanging heavy in the air. You kept your distance, tending to your wounds in silence while Dean hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.

"You should get some rest," Dean finally said, after a long stretch of quiet that felt like an eternity.

"I'll rest when I'm dead," you replied sharply, avoiding his gaze. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he flinched at your tone, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I messed up. I didn't mean to call you Lisa, it just... came out."

You scoffed, focusing on the sting of antiseptic on your skin rather than the sting of betrayal in your heart. "Sure, Dean. People always say the wrong name by accident when they're with someone else. Especially the name of someone they love."

Dean's face tightened, a mix of anger and hurt flashing in his eyes. "That's not fair," he said, his voice low.

"Fair?" you echoed, finally looking at him, letting him see the hurt in your eyes. "What about this is fair, Dean? I'm out here, risking my neck, hunting things that go bump in the night with you, making an effort for you, and you still see her when you look at me."

Dean took a step forward, as if to reach out to you, but then thought better of it. "I don't—"

"Don't," you interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. "Just don't. We have work to do, and I can put aside my feelings to get it done. Can you?"

He nodded, though the gesture felt empty. "Fine."

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - Fish.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "oop siren!male reader who was saved by the crew from a bar that was gonna kill him to make food? all the fluffy stuff, i think reader would sing to the crew but very specific love songs to luffy, and i feel he would be running away from sanji and avoid the kitchen 😭" - @vainillacookie

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : I pictured the reader like shyarly, so he doesn't have any legs, though his tail can be imagined differently

You knew you shouldn't have ventured alone out of the Grand Line but you wanted to see all the seas.

But here you were in the east blue, about to be eaten by some humans.

"Let go of me !" You yelled, slapping your tail against their faces. You struggled as best as you could, clawing and biting anything you could, yelling and screaming in hope to draw more attention to the kitchen.

"Shut up !" One of them yelled your way but you continued screaming. You'd explode their eardrums if necessary. Your voice is ringing in their ears, making some of them bleed.

You figured it worked as some waiters entered back in the kitchen, asking for the noise to stop as some customers began to be curious.

"Help ! Help me ! They're going to eat me !" You yelled and they cringed, hoping no one heard that.

They all tried to restrain you and silence you until the doors were kicked open, a small human making his entrance. He didn't look like a waiter or a cook and you hoped it was a customer here to help you.

"Mh ?" The man stared at you as everyone froze, his hand on his hat. "What's going on ?"

"They're trying to eat me ! Help !" You quickly yelled his way, still struggling, trying to get away from them.

"But you're a… a fish ?!"

"I'm not a fish !" You yelled back, angry. Did you look like a fucking fish ? "I'm a siren, you idiot ! Help me !"

The man stared at you and tilted his head. True. You didn't really look like a fish. His bad. He seemed to finally notice the people holding you down and frowned.

"Let go of him. He's not a fish." He said sternly.

"Or what." They stared at him, slowly moving away from you to grab their kitchen's ustensiles, clearly wanting to use them as weapons.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said, smiling. Stretching his right arms as it cracked a bit. "Nami. Zoro. Sanji. Usopp" He called out and four more people entered the kitchen. "Me and my crew will defeat you."

The three men looked serious as well, ready to either open the door or to attack them. One had a slingshot, ready to shoot, one had green hair and a sword ready to cut while the third man, blonde hair, was just standing there looking menacing ?

"I don't think you want your customers to know you're cooking people." The woman, Nami added, threatening to open the door for everyone to see inside. "Plus, I've seen a few reporters in the room. They'd get the word around quickly."

"We… we don't have to go that far, ahah…" One of the men holding you said, letting go of you as the others did the same, slowly.

You pushed yourself away from them, struggling to go toward your saviors. Nami went to you with someone else, holding you by the arm.

"Are you okay ? Do you need help walking ?"

"Yes please." You said, throwing a glare to those that had tried to cook you. Nami and her friend helped you get away, accompanying you outside on their ship and soon the others followed.

They walked you to their kitchen, unaware you were anxious at the idea of getting inside another one. Looking for all the exits

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy." The man said, the one that had entered first, mistaking you for a fish. "And I'm gonna be king of the pirates !" He announced confidently, putting his right foot on the chair.

"Zoro." The green haired man said as he sat down.

"And I'm the great captain Usopp. But you can call me Usopp." The one with the slingshot said, looking as confident as Luffy.

"I'm Nami. Nice to meet you." The woman said, sitting down next to you.

"And I'm Sanji. Don't worry we're not going to cook you." The blonde haired man said as he looked through the drawers for… knives ? Was he going to try to cook you too ?

You looked at him with big eyes as all your cells screamed at you to get away. Frozen in place.

"Oh no, no, no. This isn't for you." Sanji said, looking at the knife. "You see, we didn't get to finish our lunch, so we're going to finish it here."

You continued to stare at him, afraid of what was coming next. But he simply opened the fridge and took something out before beginning to cut and cook it. You relaxed slightly, still keeping an eye on him while Luffy smiled, clearly amused.

"So ? What's your name ?" Nami asked, putting her face in front of you to get your attention.

"Huh… [Name]." You simply said, still unsure of what to think of them, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What's a siren doing here in east blue ? I read you exclusively lived in the Grand Line in Fish-man Island ?" She continued and Luffy perked up at the mention of Grand Line.

"I huh… wanted to see all the seas…"

"Wait, Fish-man island ? So does this mean mermaids exist ? I've seen fishmen but-" Sanji turned, suddenly growing interested.

"Of course ! Why wouldn't they ?" You frowned at his question but he looked surprised and simply smiled, looking pleased by your answer. "Say, you really aren't going to eat me ?" You asked quietly, looking at all of them, still suspicious.

"Of course not. You aren't a fish, [Name]." Luffy said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

-

It's been a few days and you got to know them more even though you avoided staying in the kitchen with Sanji for too long. He seemed nice, but you feared to see their fridge empty with only you to feed them.

But you didn't mind spending time with Luffy. He had easily made himself a cozy place in your heart with his smile and laugh and carefree personality.

They found out you had a pretty singing voice when you sang for Luffy, helping him fall asleep at night, and helping the rest of the crew on the same occasion.

They didn't mind that you sang only for him because you had a strong voice that the wind transported, accompanying them for the day.

Luffy would grin each time you sang to him, not noticing you wouldn't sing to the others. Loving your voice and the rhythm you sang to.

He'd sing with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and clapping his hands together. He sings a little out of tune at times but it always comes from the heart.

He'd often ask you to join his crew. After all, there's always a musician in a pirate crew, ready to sing their adventures and exploits.

[problemnyatic]

"Trans men treat transfems like shit, trans women are so weird to transmascs-"

hey ive got an idea what if we all shut the fuck up and held hands and realized letting our dysphoria and trauma bleed out into how we treat others is something we all need to work on together and drawing lines in the sand and reinventing boys versus girls Queer Edition isn't gonna help any of us heal from the shit we're all going through in some form or another

[raayllum]

this isn't how i'm writing it in fanon s6 bc i can pace things however i want with zero time constraints but this is something i could see s6 doing + i like being self indulgent so

They'd been stupid to trust the Celestial Elves.

It was the only thought running through Callum's brain as he stared in horror, the corona sealed back glass, the Nova Blade a weapon no mortal could wield, and Rayla—

On her knees, the leader holding an ordinary but no less terrifying blade to her throat, his face still a bit scraped up from his and Rayla's earlier scuffle. She'd been the one to catch the elf reaching for Callum's bag when they slept that night; she'd be the one to draw her sword first and engage him, quickly overwhelmed by the time Callum and her parents had arrived.

They were all talented warriors, but rusty after two years in a coin—Runaan unable to draw his bow with only one arm, and something long range was needed here. Some way to kill the leader and give Rayla time, even if he held her in a vice grip, pressing down hard enough on her throat there was thin, scarlet line growing.

"You have something we need, boy," the leader hissed, breathing heavily through a broken nose. "You know what it is."

Runaan's voice broke through, sharp and demanding—"What is he talking about?"—but Callum couldn't tear his eyes away from Rayla. She was struggling to breathe, let alone speak, but gave her head the barest shake. No.

"What are you going to do with it?" Callum says as neutrally as he can, stalling (there has to be a spell or a way out of this) even if he already knows the answer.

What else could they hope to do with something called the Key of Aaravos?

"I'll tell you what we're going to do your elf girl unless you give it so us," the Celestial elf snarls. "On the count of three, I'll slit her throat. One—"

"Stop!"

Two hadn't even left his lips, Callum having an excuse to look away from Rayla's glaring, tearshot eyes now as he digs the cube out of his bag. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as he holds it up.

On Finnegrin's ship, at least he'd been able to hide what he was doing—what he was willing to do—in the shadowy depths of the ship. Here, in the light, there's nowhere to hide.

Callum holds it out, taking a few steps closer. "Lower the sword first," he says.

"And have her wriggle free? I don't think so."

"Callum," she wheezes. "Don't—"

"Fine then," Callum snaps. "At the same time—an exchange. On my count of three. One—" He looses his grip on the cube, the ring of celestial elves watching eagerly. "Two—" It's not ideal, him and Rayla in front of where any of her parents could join the fray; there will have to be distance before anyone can fight either way. But then, he's not doing this out of the certainty he'll get the Key back, that it won't end in disaster.

Just for her safety. Just for himself, because he can't live without her.

This was his destiny, what Aaravos was banking on. And he was right.

"Three!"

The Celestial elf takes his blade away and shoves her forward at the same time Callum tosses the cube over. It's caught in one shiny blue hand, the elf towering over him as Callum slides to his knees, catching Rayla as she careens forward before she can hit the floor. She coughs weakly in his arms, bleeding at the throat, but it seems shallow.

The celestial elves make it maybe five five away with their prize before her parents leap into action, swords clashing, but Callum grabs his staff and constructs a funnel of wind around him and Rayla, a thick enough wall of air to keep anyone else out momentarily, as he helps her sit up.

"Callum." She's crying, but alive.

"Let me look at you," he murmurs, lifting up her chin. He uses his scarf to wipe away the blood, relieved when more doesn't follow. A shallow cut just to scare him, but it'd worked. He pulls her into his arms next, just needing a moment to feel her heart beating against his.

She takes a second to hold him back and then does so, tightly, and his heart settles as they sit there shaking. She hasn't forgiven him for it yet, maybe—but she will.

[linkito]

👀 you know I HAVE to ask about that one incident now because nooooo he hurt Grian?? What happened??

Especially if there's sketches involved, because you two are apparently gods to be so good with both writing and art.

-🎀

pffffft hardly gods, ribbon anon, we're just very obsessed with our own au LOL<3

Now behold!! The Incident™!!! rambles and art below cut! (sorry it took so long :'3)

So somewhere down the line, though before any of the events of the mimic/Juni arc, Grian and Scar get attacked by a large group of hunters. It’s a coordinated effort, incredibly calculated.. 

They’ve prepared a thick, heavy net to throw over Grian that tangles into his wings if he tries to use them to escape. And though it takes multiple men to subdue Scar, they get him by stabbing him through the shoulder with a long pronged spear.

It locks in on the other side and makes it almost impossible to remove without worsening the wound or breaking the spear, and someone can keep holding onto the handle.

The hunters clearly want them both alive (for now). Their plan seems to be to sell them, or at least Grian (or at least Grian’s wings).

They can sort of force Scar to move by threatening to jostle the spear, and they tie his hands, too, so he can struggle all he wants, but all he can do is walk while he just continues to bleed. Grian is practically dragged along, twisted and tangled into the coarse net. They’re both scared out of their minds.

Eventually they arrive at a village of sorts, like an outpost for bounty hunters. The humans discuss keeping the vex for sparring purposes (more like target practice), and how they should go about turning a profit with the avian— whether they should sell him as a whole or in parts. One particular hunter removes the net from over Grian and steps his boot down onto one of his wings, knife in hand like he’s going to slice off a few feathers or even a whole damn chunk.

Now, Scar’s gone vex-brained before, but seeing this unfold before him? This time it’s different.

His eyes glow and his hair turns entirely white. Claws and fangs emerge and he sees nothing but pure rage.

With newfound strength, Scar easily breaks through the ropes, but he’s still got that wretched spear. It doesn’t matter to him in the slightest though. He lashes out, slashing and attacking wildly, blood spilling every which way.

Worried he needs to aid with controlling the vex, the hunter with the knife hesitates. And Grian takes that moment that he feels the weight of his boot shift to use his other wing to slam into the man’s body and knock him onto the ground. It’s his mistake for underestimating Grian.

Together, the two of them manage to scramble to flee, but there are hunters on their trail, both humans and bloodhound creatures. And Scar is still entirely feral. He’s not himself at all. He’s not seeing things right, it’s just rage and instinct and blood.

He tears through men and monsters alike, not even bothering to draw his sword. It’s all teeth and claws.

Grian thinks he ought to be afraid, but in spite of everything, Scar’s instinct to protect is just as strong, and his claws weave masterfully around Grian, only striking down their foes.

In the midst of the chaos, however, Grian notices something. While in whatever arcane form this may be, Scar is rapidly healing all his wounds. Blue wisps of magic weave his skin back together as it breaks, although it leaves behind awful, ragged scarring. (How interesting...)

But the spear is still there.

Scar can’t heal while that thing still pierces through him.

And that’s a serious wound. Scar may legitimately die from it if he comes out of this haze without dealing with it. And something tells Grian that Scar doesn’t have enough reason right now to realize that himself.

So as soon as he has a chance, Grian grabs the spear, and with great difficulty, manages to snap it so that it might be pulled out. 

But Scar doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. All he registers is pain and that someone else caused it. 

There’s confusion.

There’s lashing out. 

Grian can maybe manage to dodge out of the way, but he still has to remove the spear, and in the end, in order for Grian to succeed, Scar also lands a wild slash directly onto Grian’s wings. 

The spear gets yanked out, but now Grian is bleeding and in a nightmarish world of pain and Scar’s onslaught is far from over. He pounces onto Grian, pinning that injured wing onto the hard ground underneath them both.

Scar is confused and betrayed and hurting and no longer has any sense over his actions.

And Grian is terrified. Terrified out of his mind, but also—

It’s Scar.

And Grian’s wings have been nothing but a beacon, nothing but a source of danger to them both. And if Scar decides it’s better if they’re gone? ...maybe Grian would let him. 

And as blood trickles between his feathers, he thinks maybe it would be better after all.

So Grian goes limp beneath him, entirely giving in.

“Scar...” he mutters, and maybe it’s a plea. Maybe it’s a surrender.

Scar’s pointed ears twitch. He hears Grian call his name, clear as day, amidst the haze and adrenaline and fear. And Scar needs to protect him. He has to keep fighting. Grian is scared.

He’s scared.

He’s scared of—

“...oh god.” Scar’s voice comes out hoarse, eyes flickering weakly back to their normal green hue.

He sees his hands hovering near Grian’s throat, claws outstretched, and his hands are drenched in blood and he doesn’t know whose it is. Scar stumbles back, horrified. He thinks he’s going to be sick. Everything rapidly returns to normal and suddenly he feels so weak, absolutely drained, his hands are trembling now and—

They both hear shouting in the distance.

Unfortunately, there is no time to come to terms with any of this at all.

They have no choice but to keep running.

...

Now Scar already does everything he can not to touch Grian’s wings. Grian has so much trauma surrounding his wings already, and now? Now Scar feels no better than any of the other monsters after Grian’s feathers. He doesn’t deserve the right. He failed and he hurt Grian, and Grian can barely even bring himself to treat the wound because part of him truly believes he ought to leave them tarnished and broken. 

And later, when Grian inadvertently flinches at Scar’s touch? Scar vows to himself to never use that savage state ever again.