#he could probably hear screaming and smell blood and death everywhere | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollwrites · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dark fic, noncon, fear kink, graphic depictions of death and gore, chasing, manhandling, threats against reader, degradation, virgin!reader, oral sex ( f!receiving ), size kink, blackout mention, Dio is very mean, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ sugar on my tongue by the talking heads

you could hear his laugh— evil and taunting— booming through the abysmal corridor behind you, and the hissing and snarling of his undead army that was also in hot pursuit. “Where are you running off to, hmm?” he calls, and the baritone surrounds you. he’s not everywhere, you try to tell yourself, it’s just the echoes. “I won’t let you leave the castle grounds. However, by all means, go on and try, get your sweet blood pumping!” another morbid laugh like distant thunder, and you take the first new hallway that opens up to the left. “I can smell it from here, that lovely smell will lead me straight to you.”

you’d made a mistake coming here so late at night, with a boy you hardly even knew. you’d kissed him, and let him loosen your corset, even though you felt uneasy. even though you’d never kissed a boy before. even though the whole night felt wrong. then, the laughter started. from somewhere deep in the blackest shadows, a predator stalked, watched, and found amusement in your innocent fumbling and uncertainty, and stepped into the light. he named himself Dio right before he ripped the boy in half right in front of you. some of his blood was still seeping into the cotton of your dress. what he hadn’t seen, however, was the jagged stone you’d hidden underneath your skirt, clutching it tight in the palm of your fragile hand. so, whenever he scooped you into his arms, and leaned in to taunt you, or perhaps even kiss you, you’d swung the rock as hard as you could, making direct contact with his sculpted cheekbone, breaking the skin. it wasn’t much, but it was enough for his grip to loosen enough so that you could slip through his arms and run.

you were panting, your lungs burning in your chest, your eyes puffy and sore from crying. but one glance over your shoulder yielded the confirmation; the reason you couldn’t stop— hundreds of ghouls had crammed themselves into the hallway, some staggering after you, others chasing you on all fours. you turn your eyes forward again, ignoring the hem of your skirt that catches on a dilapidated and unrecognizable statue, ripping a slit all the way up to your thigh, and both hands hit a sturdy door when you hit the dead end of the corridor, slamming yourself into it with a pathetic huff. luckily, the door, like the rest of the manor, is old and crumbling, and it whines as it flies open and you stumble over the threshold, only to let out a blood curdling scream.

inches from your feet is a pile of innards, and what could’ve been a corpse at one time, but has since been devoured, piece by piece, by the monsters squatting down over it. they both look up and growl, clumps of half-eaten human flying from their bloodied mouths as you stumble back. you wanted to collapse, but didn’t have the time.

countless pairs of gruesome hands snatched at you, dragging you into a horde of them. you wailed and fought against them, half expecting to be shredded, too. you weren’t, however you could hear — and feel — your dress tearing as they snatched at you. your neckline ripped, one sleeve hanging loosely against your arm and the other chunk of fabric lost in the sea of rotting bodies as they tossed you back and forth. your throat is hoarse from screaming when you’re finally spit out the opposite end of the crowd, and flung right into Dio’s arms, which welcome you with a tight grip on one wrist and the other palm splayed over your midriff, pulling your back to his solid frame. “No!” you cry out, but he’s already twisting your wrist.

“Now, now,” he croons against your neck, wringing your wrist until the blood-stained stone falls from your grip and clatters against the floor, “listen to that heart thumping.” you felt sick to your stomach when you realized he could hear it. “Fragile, little thing is about to beat right out of your chest.” you squirm, trying desperately to pull away from him, but his lips have sought out the cuts on your palm, turning it over to expose them to his mouth. first, they graze over the wounds, and you wince. “You’re about as nervous and dangerous as a newborn kitten.” his tongue slithers out to prod at the scratches, urging more blood to the surface, and he smirks as he tastes it. his lips then travel, parted and dragging over your skin, up your arm, ignoring the sleeve that hangs in tatters, and he presses you back into him tighter when he reaches your throat. “So soft— I could rip your jugular out with one bite.”

“P—please—�� you rasp, the tips of his fangs tingling against your hypersensitive flesh.

“Such a meek, little plea,” he teases, the expanse of his massive hand careening upwards over your breast to rest against your heartbeat, his digit tips just barely touching your chin, “what are you begging for, kitten?” he allows their sharpness to scrape, and you whimper, melting against him and hoping to become so small he couldn’t reach you. it was impossible, as his face was buried in your neck already, but you tried nonetheless.

“I—I don’t want to die…”

he laughs at this, as does his minions, and you feel a burning humiliation creep upon your cheeks. “No? Are you afraid of dying?” he asks, feigning sympathy, and his fingers take hold of your face. he angles it towards him, and your tear-filled gems look up at his stone-cold countenance. you nod, the scratch on his cheek was healing as you watched, and your mountainous captor stared down at you. the crown of your head is pressed against his chest; you were just so damn small compared to him. “Are you afraid of me?” another nod, and his crimson eyes flicker over your petrified expression. you couldn’t catch your breath— your lips parted and hot puffs of air wheezing out, your chest rising and falling beneath the stretched fabric of what was left of your neckline. you avoided looking into his eyes, but you could tell he was drinking in every inch of you. “Smart decision for a very stupid girl.” he replies, dipping his head towards you. you start to pull away, recoil, but his grip on your cheeks hold you in place. that devious tongue of his skirts along his lower lip, tasting your broken breath as it lands on his tiers. then, his carmine eyes flicker up to yours, and his smile widens, “Tell me that you fear me.”

you couldn’t even think— you were staring, wide eyed and horrified into two, piercing rubies. he wanted to hear how scared you were, he wanted you to say it out loud, but there was a lump so big and dry in your throat that you didn’t think you could force the words past it.

“Come now, don’t keep me waiting.”

you gasp when he squeezes your cheeks together hard, forcing your lower lip to poke out in a childish pout, and you acquiesce to his will. “I’m afraid,” you whisper, each syllable hard pressed to slip into the air, “I’m— I’m afraid of you—“

Dio chortles, closing what was left of a gap between he and you, and his tongue ran along the shape of your lips. you flinch, and seal them tight, but he’d already gotten his taste. “Mm…” he moans, more to himself, and runs his tastebuds over his own mouth, and then flicks at his fangs. “I do love the taste of fear on those pretty lips, like sugar…” he croons and places a sloppy kiss on your mouth. regardless of how you wanted to reject it, he forces your lips to fit against his with a hard push, opening them wide so that he may shove his tongue inside. you squeal in protest against his mouth, wriggling and desperate to get free, but his strength too greatly outweighed your own. your own tongue bunches up in resistance, trying to push his out of your mouth, but you start to gag on it. you considered biting down on his, biting it off even, but ultimately decided against it.

you were in no position to fight back anymore.

when he’s drank his fill of your kiss, he pulls back, the lips that have battered your own dripping and shiny with your saliva and stretched over deadly fangs, and you pant, twisting in his grip. he watches you for a moment, amused. “I would wager you taste just as sweet everywhere, don’t you?” you shook your head, cheeks on fire and eyes closed tightly, pulling in the opposite direction, but his hand drops, grabbing the neckline of your dress in a powerful fist and tearing it with a swift yank. the force is enough to arch your back, the fabric screaming, and then your breasts are bare and exposed, rising with heavy, nervous breaths.

there’s a whooping from the horde of undead as they crowd closer around, licking and biting at the air as if they can taste your fear in it, and you recoil away from them, pushing you deeper into Dio’s wicked embrace, which wasn’t ideal, either.

“Look at this,” he purrs, sharp nails dragging over your otherwise unmarked skin. they trace his name, slowly, as he takes in your visage, “skin so fresh and supple.” his eyes twinkle, pure malevolence behind them as the tip of his nail traces your nipple, watching it harden as he does. “I could think of a hundred different ways to paint you crimson, my dear.” you shake your head, whimpering in soft protest, and he cocks his head to the side, “What? You don’t think red would look so pretty on you? The color of roses?” he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of your tender breast and squeezing until you mewl and sag into the rough treatment, “Timid, little thing, aren’t you? Frightened so easily.” his head dips, tongue dragging along your nipple, and when you gasped, your thighs clamping together to stop the feeling of his teasing flooding your core, he reads you like an open book. “I think you like this.” you start to shake your head yet again, but his hand has already abandoned your chest, hiking your skirt up to feel between your thighs. they were slick with sweat and… something else. your desire and shame. “You’re dripping, kitten. Do you enjoy my teasing that much?”

your thighs press harder into each other, but his fingers work to pry them apart, slipping in between to feel your bare sex. you choke back a gasp, your only free hand grasping at his wrist trying to pull it from your core as you jerk against his rubbing, but it was as effective as an ant trying to push a thumb away before it’s crushed beneath the force. “N—no…” but, much to your own dismay, you were soaking his fingertips and he was howling with amusement.

“Well, now, isn’t this cunt just so sensitive— I’ve hardly even touched you, and you’re all jitters already. Could I have caught a little virgin in my web?” humiliation floods your eyes, and you close them tight, turning your face away from him and digging your chin into your shoulder. he coos, leaning close enough for you to feel the chill or his skin against your cheek, and the ghastly drag of his lips as he spoke, “Good. The first and only cock you’ll ever wrap around will be Dio’s, your new master.”

“…I want to wake up…” you beg under your breath. surely, this had to be a terrible nightmare. so you kept biting down on your lip and repeating it. “I want… to wake up…”

“Eh?” he asks, grinning, “Stupid thing thinks she’s dreaming.” a wave of vicious cackling rolls through the corridor, and you shudder. a moment later, you feel him shifting, dropping to his knees in front of you. cautiously, you crack one eyelid and look down to see him ripping what was left of your skirt aside. there’s a flurry of cotton before it all settles on the floor. you shiver, stumbling back. Dio releases your wrist and grasps one ankle, hiking it up on to his shoulder. it threw your balance completely off; even on his knees, the man before you was still monstrous, and you were forced to stand on the tip toes of the opposite foot to stay upright. “Let’s find out if fear makes your cunt as sweet as your lips.”

both eyes opened wide, but you had no time to react before he was smashing his face against your sex, the bridge of his nose creating a solid cradle for your aching clit, and the thick muscle hiding in his mouth wiggled between your netherlips, gathering the taste of your essence on to his tastebuds. he growled, and the sound vibrated against you, sending every nerve into overdrive. both your hands dig into his golden locks, pulling hard to attempt to force his head back, but the scratching and scrambling didn’t phase him one bit. he didn’t budge, instead he laughed, then his words were slurred against you. “Don’t be so ungrateful,” his eyes glint in the dusky moonlight pouring through a broken window, and it seems so shameful and sinful to look down your naked torso at him. you could see the muscles in your own tummy contract when he nuzzled against your clit, and you clamped one hand over your mouth to keep your moans quiet. crying out for how good it felt would only make this all too real— and would give him the satisfaction of knowing that you couldn’t control it. “Your new god is on his knees for you, lapping at your trembling pussy. You should be singing my praises.” none too gently, he snags your clit with his teeth, creating a vice around it and rolling his tongue over the nub.

you bleat, and your knees buckle— the sole leg holding you up giving out. but Dio doesn’t let you crumble. with one hand fleeing, he wraps a massive fist around your throat to hold you in place, the furious muscles of his gargantuan arm hard and bulging against your torso. the pressure is enough to startle you, even though he doesn’t squeeze. you imagine the beast of a man could break your neck with little effort. this new grip occupies your mind, and your hands try to wrap themselves around his wrist instead, but it’s even too big for your fingertips to meet.

“You are a pathetic little kitty cat, aren’t you?” he teases, suckling on your clit until you see stars behind your eyelids, and your toes are curling, “You can’t even stand up on your own anymore. Just a few, easy flicks of my tongue and you’re putty in my hands. Makes my cock hard watching you lose this fight, knowing you know you’re fucked.”

you don’t want him to be right, but when he punctuates his statement by licking a fat stripe between your netherlips, you cry out, and your nails dig into his tough flesh. “Please!! Ha— have mercy…”

“Go on,” he urges, “cry for mercy. Scream for me. It won’t change a thing. You belong to me, now, and I’m going to break you in every way possible, starting with tongue fucking never ending orgasms out of your delicate, little body until it gives out. You’ll black out, and wake up to my big cock stretching you open.”

#dio brando x you #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #dio x you #dio smut #dio brando x reader #dio brando smut #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba x you #jjba smut #jjba imagine #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo x you #jojo’s bizarre adventure x you #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo

991 notes · View notes

porflenet · 7 months

Text

Guardian Angel | Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!Reader

tags: blood, anxiety attack, injuries/gun shots, 141!reader, sargeant!reader (tho it won't go too deep on military things), angst with little comfort, no use of y/n.

word count: 1513

summary: There is always a chance to a mission going south, casualties are expected, you just wished Ghost wasn't one of the involved.

commentary: "Too much angst lately!" I say, while I write angst. I will see if I write the continuation of this, it's very likely. Like always: English is not my first language. Enjoy!

Your heart was racing, the smell of blood and gunpowder invading your nose and making you want to puke, not because you weren’t used to it, but the despair and adrenaline you felt after watching Ghost take three shots and drag him the best you could out of there weren’t really helping.

You didn’t know and didn’t care how you managed to lift the man and carry him inside of an abandoned house, but thank god you did, the shots could be heard all around you but it didn’t matter now, you just needed to find something to stop the bleeding and fast, it was hard to see where exactly the bleeding was coming from, thanks to his stupid full black gear, but it was impossible to ignore the wetness you felt while holding his waist.

You knew Ghost was trying to tell you something, probably spitting orders to you to leave him and find somewhere safe, and of course you ignore him completely, like you would ever leave him bleeding to death because of some stupid mission they sent all of you. You left him sitting against the wall, so you could throw all of the things over the table to the ground.

– Sergeant, it’s an order! Leave and find a safe spot fo- Fuck! – He complained loudly when you pressed one of his wounds while picking him up, helping him to lay down on the table.

– Sergeant, it's an order! – You mocked the man in the best british accent you could at the moment, while desperately looking everywhere for something to help you.

Finding some shirts that looked clean enough you went back to him, throwing the shirts beside him and taking the small bag with the first aid kit you carried with you, exactly for moments like this, but god, how you wished it was someone else, not him.

Ghost still tried to move and spit orders at you, and you were sure you were going insane by his attitude. When he tried once again to get up while you tried to organize the few first aid stuff you had something possessed you, pushing him down with all the force you could gather, hearing a loud thud with a loud groan from the man.

– Shut your fucking mouth, stay still, and let me work! – You screamed while taking your knife to cut his top gear.

Maybe it was the pain and the strong want to rest, but Ghost couldn’t push you away like he wanted to, he could feel the pain of you trying to take out the bullet who stayed inside him, complains escaping his lips while you tried to make him stay still. You were no medic, both knew that, but there were not a lot of options at the moment, and you wouldn’t let him die here, not like this, not when you can do something.

His head was spinning, the panic of knowing he didn’t have a lot of time left starting to creep inside him, unconsciously reaching for your arm, holding it with all the strength he had left, you stopped briefly to hold his hand, a reassurance squeeze while you smiled softly at him. His eyes were out of focus, but they were always on you, his breath slowly going more heavy and slow, starting to shiver uncontrollably while the want to sleep was controlling his body.

Noticing his reaction you ran to take some more clothes to throw over him, you were acting in a panic, both your arms and body covered with Simon’s blood, screaming at your radio begging for anyone to come and save him while you finally managed to stop all his bleeding, but you still had lost a lot.

The smell of blood was nauseating, it covered both your bodies and the ground, you held Simon close to you to make sure he was warm, whispering sweet things everytime he would take a sharp breath, caressing his face so he knew he was going to be ok, even if you left a trail of his own blood over his mask, hoping he didn’t feel the way your body shaked, how your breath was out of control and your voice was heavy with sadness and despair.

But he felt, all of it, every tear that fell on his face alongside with his own, he heard the way you cursed at the radio for not getting an answer. It broke his heart, knowing how he wasn’t going to be able to tell you everything he felt, how he appreciated every time you would refuse one of his orders just to make sure he was ok, the way your smile made everything wrong with him disappear and fill him with a warm feeling that he got addicted to.

He hated to know he was going to be the reason for your future sleepless nights, that the image of him in your arms covered in blood was going to be the last thing you saw. He didn’t want to give you pain, he wanted to see you smiling, to touch your face, just one last time, but his arms refused to obey, only his eyes allowed him to look at you, but even them now had started to fail him, closing on their own.

He didn’t want to close his eyes.

But he was so tired…

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

You don’t know for how long you hugged him. How many times you checked if he was still breathing. How many times you called his name without an answer.

But Price and the rest finally found you, and you knew he still breathed, his heart still beating, even so slowly that you almost couldn’t feel it. If you just run fast enough to a hospital he could make it, he was going to make it, he needed to.

Everything was a blur the moment they took him from you. You remember vaguely two medics taking care of him, the sound of the propellers from the helicopter, Price trying talking to you but the words refused to come to you, watching how Simon’s chest still moved, the very subtly movement he would make sometimes, completely focused on see if he was still alive.

Gaz and Soap forcefully carrying you away from following Ghost, them asking an annoying amount of time if they could take out your gear, the sensation of water hitting your skin, watching how it falled clean from your head to the rest of your body only to hit the ground with a mixture of dirt and blood, not your blood, your mind insisted to remember. Voices that you knew were Soap and Gaz asking you things you didn’t care about while they dressed you again, you needed to see him.

You didn’t eat, you didn’t drink, you only sat at the waiting room from the hospital to wait for the results, Price, Gaz and Soap alongside you the whole time.

It was a long and painful eleven hours.

The moment a nurse called for Captain Price, all of you almost jumped to run to them, but you must have been more tired than expected, because you saw yourself walking slowly to the nurse, in an attack of anxiety trying to analyze her posture and gesture.

Was it good or bad news? Did you really want to know? What would you do if he was gone? Why were you feeling like this anyway? Sure you loved Simon, you were pretty sure you loved him the first time you saw him, that intimidating man who refused to let his guard down, but you never told him so, limiting yourself to protecting the man who didn’t need protection, or so he told you millions of times. So what if the only time he needed you, you failed him?

You couldn’t understand a word of what the rest of the group was saying, when did your vision get so blurry and your face so wet? The longer you tried to control your breath and heartbeat the worse it becomes. A strong pain in your chest caused by the intensity of your feelings made you hold your shirt tightly, your legs almost giving in on you, managing to stay up thanks to Gaz holding you at the last second.

Voices mixing together, the lights were too bright, you just wanted to see him, you needed to know he was ok.

Please, please, be ok Simon, please, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die-

You must have been saying it out loud, because suddenly you felt Price holding your face with both hands and forcing you to look at him.

– He is ok, lad, he came out fine from the surgery, he is sleeping in his room. He will be ok. – Price smiled at you, an almost forced smile to mask all the worry in his eyes, while you finally managed to breathe properly.

Cleaning your tears with his thumb, hugging you tightly while gently caressing your head, Gaz and Soap joining the hug soon after.

He was going to be ok.

#ghost cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #I cant write full pain fics #i actually do but i can't take them rn

55 notes · View notes

return-of-the-queen-au · 9 months

Text

I was bored and wrote this. I ain't the greatest writer, I'm more of an artist, so apologies if it sucks lol

Where it all started.

chapter one, the prince's return.

Everything got covered in snow, it looked like it was winter, but it was the middle of August!

Snow was everywhere, gigantic spikes of ice covering and towering houses, ice statues that once used to be people were around, screams of agony by other victims who were dying because of the now headless and animated statues, children running away, others trying to save their loved ones by the many dangers around, it was a mess. What was he thought was gonna be a joyous day, turned into a nightmare.

There he laid, the prince, on the verge of death, with the chains now made of ice, and snow covering the floor entirely.

Despite his energy being gone, he still found some to shiver. He was so so tired, but his body shivered, shook anyway.

He couldn't feel a thing anymore and he what he once knew started to slip from his mind.

His body was numb, he could barely feel it, the more he stayed here, the more he forgot he was on a wall dying.

Where was he again? What was he name?

What even happened?

All he wanted was to sleep, really. He wanted to say sorry to Vanessa, but he has long forgotten why, or maybe he never understood why she was mad in the first place, he thought she liked flowers?

his name has been forgotten along with many other things, in his head there was only that accident that happened not so long ago..maybe a few minutes ago..an hour? He doesn't know. He wasn't counting. All he could think of was the sight of her love turning into that monstrosity upstairs, and for some unknown reason, he still found some tears to cry about it. Not like he had anything else to do. His throat hurt, he couldn't move. All he could do was cry and wait for his death.

And when it came, he almost didn't believe it. it felt like he was reborn again, full of energy, full of emotions and thoughts, so many things that he almost thought he was really just alive, and that whole accident was just a bad dream of his.

but he was wrong, he could tell, as much as he wanted to believe it wasn't real, it was. Very much so.

he could hear screaming, death, he could somehow smell death coming from all places. He looked down at himself, standing, where he once was. No body, for ..some reason, but instead just him. Just his dark purple hands, his dark purple feet, and snow. Nothing else.

He couldn't see himself in the face, but it didn't really matter, he was free.

Sad for him, the door of the basement was closed, the snow was probably covering it to the other side, and it was too heavy for him to push off,

So that meant he had to pass through the manor. But no big deal! He knows the manor like the back of his hand! He can probably just say sorry to Vanessa now, too.

What can go wrong?

...

.....

.........

Everything. Everything can go wrong.

he doesn't know how, but everything went from bad, to horrible. the moment Vanessa saw him, she screamed and started to chase him like a predator would to a pray. He is now hidden under a table, she is roaming around. He is scared. He doesn't know if he's hyperventilating or not. He doesn't know even if he's breathing, but now he just wants to get out.

She's too mad, he can't talk to her, he has to wait.

Also, he doesn't wanna get hurt, not after he finally feels so great!

so he had to wait for Vanessa to get out of the room so he could sprint out of the manor, and that was oddly easy. he didn't even make a sound! maybe because he's not wearing shoes? Is he wearing shoes? He just has some..purple feet. Are those his boots? They were purple right?

Dosen't matter, what matters is what he found outside! He couldn't even recognize his own village!

It was his, right? He remembers wearing a crown, he was a prince or something. So, it must have been his, right?

His kingdom! What has happened!?

he could still see blood around, dead people, headless statues walking around, ice..ice everywhere!

He felt like throwing up, but he couldn't. He felt like crying and even if he was crying, he couldn't feel his eyes tearing up.

he also thought of hiding from those ugly headless statues (he never liked those statues in the first place. They gave him the chills. Now they move and are headless?! the worst!) But they ignored him. They attacked everything but him. Is it because he's the prince? Or because of his weird purple look? (He still hasn't seen his face, he wonders if it looks weird too.)

but again, it wasn't something that really mattered for him, he didn't even wanna deal with those. But instead he ran as fast as he could (he felt oddly light, like if he was floating, but he could see his legs moving like if he was running!) To the village, but there wasn't any chance anyone survived!

Half of the Village was completely covered in snow the ice spread until the bridge and more statues appeared. But they weren't headless or the ones he hated so much, they were..ice statues. the moment it clicked on who these ice statues were, he had to look away and take a breath.

"Alright...alright.. it's-it's fine. Y- t.. it's okay..m-maybe there's.. survivors?..gosh, I hope so." He felt like he was out of breath, but could he be out of breath?

was it because he was crying? Was he even crying? He felt numb for the most part, but unlike in the cellar, this numb feeling felt normal, rather than exhausting.

But to his surprise and relief, thanks to him avoiding making eye contact with the ice statues, he found a small child. He was shaking, he was probably freezing there like the prince did in the cellar.

"Oh, little child! There you are! And I here I thought there was no one else here..uhm...alive." were the ice statues even alive?

The more he talked, the more he got close to the child, and for a moment he thought he could hug them and comfort them, but...

They ran in fear, screaming about a scary ghost or something.

He wasn't a scary ghost! He was the prince of subcon! Prince....the prince! Yeah!

He felt almost offended, but maybe he just didn't look like himself? I mean, maybe he looked super tired or- blue from the cold! he needs a mirror.

But later!! Now his mission was to go after the kid, who knows what they could find there! It could be dangerous! They could trip and get hurt! Or trip and fall and die! Or get eaten by a bear! Or meet those scary spiders that were always around the forest! Or more of those statues!

...

Vanessa wasn't kidding when she said he needs to stop overthinking.

But- whatever!! it's- he can overthink this, the kid might actually be in danger!

So he went after the kid. again with the feeling of floating, but it was easy to get used to it.

He really wonders what he looks like. Maybe instead of blue he's purple? Or maybe it's the lighting? He surely dosen't look good! I mean he was trapped for like..an hour. Ugh, he doesn't know! In that cellar, while he froze to death. Maybe he looks like those ice statues.

But wouldn't that mean they are always awake and conscious like him? he doesn't seem to be covered in ice though?

if he could find a mirror he could - ugh right! He could have seen himself in the mirror in the manor! He was being very sneaky anyway, Vanessa wouldn't have heard him, he's so stupid sometimes! His memory really needs to be checked.

Maybe once this is solved he can go to a doctor, he probably need a doctor, right? I mean, he's purpl-

"STOP RIGHT HERE, YOU GHOUL!"

41 notes · View notes

pics-and-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Dreams (part 1??)

Pairing: Loki x Faerie!Fem!Reader

Warnings: nightmares, mentions of death, mentions of arranged marriage, reader is scared.

Summary: Your nightmares wake you up yet again, and you go to Frigg for advice, terrified for the future of Asgard, but mostly your husband.

a/n: idk if i wanna make another part of this, which is why theres question marks. also, i fixed my links! so now you can properly go to the story/chapter on both mobile and pc, so have fun! ❤️

You laughed, running down the winding paths and sprinting down the narrow cobblestone. Your bare feet slapped on the stones, the rare pebble digging into your feet and making you wince, but you kept laughing.

You look back in front of you, and now you’re in the forests, the sounds of battle all around you. You look down, and your dress is gone, replaced with your battle armor.

No. No no no no no no no! No no no no no!

This can’t be happening again!

“Y/N! Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Loki’s voice was anxious, just barely loud enough to hear over the sounds of the battle going on around you.

Draugr swarmed everywhere like a virus, killing and almost seeming to multiply just as fast as they got cut down.

You couldn’t move, you were paralyzed in fear. Breathing was supposed to be easy, yet you could neither gasp in nor scream out. The air was thick with the sounds of screaming and the smell of blood.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You whip your head around, then finally let out a scream when you saw one of the Draugr running towards you.

Right as you should have been impaled by the Draugr’s sword, Loki appears in front of you, hands on your shoulders, looking you over.

“Darling, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your heart pounds as you struggle for words, seeing the sword in his stomach.

“Darling? Wha-” Loki looked down, and you watch as blood starts to pour from the wound as the sword is removed.

😴🛌💭

You gasp, sitting up in bed, heart pounding and tears in your eyes. You look around you, seeing Loki next to you in the bed. You take a deep breath, trying to stifle your cries, covering your mouth with your hand.

“It’s alright, it was just a nightmare, Y/n. He’s fine, everything’s fine, nobody’s dead, nothing happened.” you mutter to yourself, sliding out of the bed. You grab your dressing robe from where you had tossed it on the bench at the bottom of your bed, slipping it on.

Quietly, you grab the candelabrum on the wardrobe, making sure that your robe was cinched shut before quickly lighting the candles and stepping out into the hall.

😴🛌💭

As you stare at the door in front of you, you find yourself grateful that Odin was on a trip to another realm for a peace treaty. Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door.

The door opens, revealing Frigg, and you try to smile.

“Lady Y/n? Is something wrong dear? Did Loki-“

“Oh, no. I- I just- I need to talk to you. I’m fine-“ Even you wouldn’t believe yourself, your voice was cracking and you probably looked a mess, in your nightclothes and robe.

“Come in, dear. Would you like some tea?”

😴🛌💭

Loki rolled over, yawning, reaching for you. You weren’t there. He bolted up, looking at your side of the bed, empty. When he put his hand on your pillow, it was slightly warm, like you had been gone for a while.

“Y/n?” Loki got out of the bed, calling your name as he walked to the bathroom, hoping you were in there and hadn’t lit any candles so as to not disturb him, but you weren’t there either.

Loki started to panic, lighting the candles in the room, his heart pounding. Your robe wasn’t on the bench, and the candelabrum wasn’t on the wardrobe.

Harsh cries split through the night air, and Loki looked over at the rocker, Hela safe inside. Loki smiled, grabbing his daughter carefully, kissing her forehead. She’d grown so fast, she was only 6 months old and she was already starting to crawl and talk.

“Shhhhhh, Hela, it’s okay.” he whispered, rocking the baby back and forth. She had your smile, which he was reminded of every day.

😴🛌💭

“I’ve been having the same dreams for months now. I’m scared, I don’t know what to do.” You broke down in Frigg’s arms, tears rolling down your face.

After you stopped crying, you sat up, wiping at your face, sniffing. You smile at Frigg, accepting the tissue she handed you, blowing your nose.

“Do you feel better?” You’d been asked the same question hundreds of times, but the only times it was said with kindness was when it came from Frigg or Loki. You nodded, and she smiles at you.

You start describing the recurring nightmares you’ve had for weeks, the dreams of Loki dying in front of you, Hela dying in your arms, Asgard in flames as you held your small daughter in your arms, dreams of the palace going up in flames as you ran through the woods, and tonight’s dream of sweet memories turning to war.

😴🛌💭

Loki carefully set Hela down in her rocker, now peacefully asleep. He grabbed a candle, throwing on his robe and set out of your shared room, looking for you.

His first stop was at Thor’s room. He pounded on the door, knocking until it opened, revealing his brother.

“What is your problem, Loki? It’s-“

“I can’t find Y/n.” Loki says, glaring at his brother.

“What? You think she’s in here?” Loki watched as Thor rubbed his face, yawning. “I have no interest in your wife, brother.”

“Don’t try to twist this around-“

“Why would I want your wife? She’s happy with you.”

“She was supposed to marry you, or did you forget?”

“I was never interested in her, Loki. It was arranged. It wasn’t out of love, it was to make the kingdom stronger. That’s it. Besides, I was the one who backed out. She couldn’t. I saw how much happier she was with you, and I didn’t want any drama. You already make enough of it, I didn’t want more.”

Loki glared at Thor, who rolled his eyes, opening the door further, allowing him in. “She probably just went to the bathroom.”

“Do you think I’d be in here if she was? I checked.”

😴🛌💭

“That’s- a lot, dear.”

“I’m scared of what it could mean. They’ve never been wrong. I- I don't-“ Frigg held you as you broke down once more, tears running down your face.

Your dreams always hinted at the millions of possibilities for the future. The more frequent a dream or nightmare, the more likely it was too happen.

You didn’t want these to happen, but they’d been plaguing your dreams for months now. You were terrified.

😴🛌💭

Ik y’all are still waiting for part 15 of Drugs of love, love of drugs, but for some reason I just don’t wanna do it 🫤 Sorry! I’m trying to, and I’m slowly getting more written, but my brain is rejecting the hyperfixation that was only 2 months ago my favorite obsession.

Anyways, how’d you like this? I’m doing something a lil different, wanna see if y’all like my Norse mythology stories, not just Marvel fics. Lemme know if u wanna be added or removed from tags, and lemme know what y’all thought of this!

Love you! ❤️

@vbecker10 @mochie85 @michelleleewise @fictive-sl0th @silverfire475 @huntress-artemiss @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @mybuckynotyours @thrutheburnout

73 notes · View notes

imtooscaredforthis · 1 year

Text

Entrapment

Chapter sixteen: First Response

Mentions of: Murder, Stabbing, Blood, Gore, Death, Paranoia, Blackmail, Shock, & Ghostface being one sick fucker

A/N: Seems like we’ve finally reached our turning point….

Tags: @mama-miya @dead-bxxxtch-walking @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie @moonshineinasippycup @froegis

With a deep sigh, you grabbed your uniform, getting changed. You’re exhausted. You’ve barely slept ever since that phone call, too paranoid and afraid. When you do sleep, you get nightmares.

You did everything you could about it, even going to the police. They just told you it was probably a prank call or a copycat, since it’s not in Ghostface’s M.O to call his victims. They said to give you a call if anyone showed up, but they couldn’t do anything about it unless they saw someone.

So now, you’re on your own. You know that’s not completely true, that you have Jesse, Jed and Rachel. But could you really tell them what’s going on? The cops already think you’re crazy, and you don’t want your friends joining them.

Hopefully work will keep you distracted. Jesse normally helps a lot, after all.

When you arrived at the restaurant, all the lights were already off, the open sign flipped to closed. But you and Jesse are working the closing shift…Weird. Maybe Lucia wants to close early?

It doesn’t happen often, maybe once or twice, when Lucia has a family emergency, she’s told you to close early. Maybe it was one of those rare occasions.

“Hello?” You called when you entered. There was no response. The restaurant was completely empty, no one at the tables or anything.

It was barely cleaned. Seeming like whoever cleaned it stopped suddenly, a few chairs stacked on the tables, and a broom resting against the wall. But that’s it. There’s signs of anyone there.

You walked over to the kitchen, pushing through the doors, before you stopped. You stopped and you stood, frozen in place at the sight in front of you.

The first thing you saw was the blood, the smell of copper hanging heavily in the air, making you nauseous. So much blood, it was everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, on the table, everywhere.

Then, you saw Lucia. She was lying on the ground, unmoving, her eyes shut and her mouth parted ever so slightly. She had multiple stab wounds in her chest and stomach, her clothes drenched with blood, some seeping from her mouth.

Before you could even process the sight, you heard the soft sound of someone calling your name, their voice barely above a whisper.

It was Jesse, and a dark hooded figure loomed above him, holding his head back, slitting his throat. You watched as he choked on his blood, his once bright blue eyes grew dull and lifeless.

The hooded figure raised it’s head to look at you, and that’s when you saw it. The mask. The Ghostface Mask. White with blood splatters on it, the black eye holes and mouth curved in an endless scream.

Shock coursed through you, as you struggled to believe the reality before you. Your friends, your work family, they were all dead. Ghostface killed them.

He pulled the knife from Jesse’s neck, wiping the blood off with his hand. Then he started walking toward you, causing your fight or flight to kick in.

You grabbed a knife from the cutting block, holding it and preparing yourself. You could feel your body trembling with fear and adrenaline. “Stay the fuck back, you sick, psychotic bastard.”

You hissed poisonously, trying to act confident even though you could hear your voice shaking.

“I wouldn’t be too worried about me if I were you, I’d rather be more focused on the boy.” He gestured to the side of the table.

Dropping the knife, you ran over, finding Nate lying on the ground, a stab wound in his side and his leg. He was bleeding heavily, but he wasn’t dead. His eyes fluttered, and he groaned in pain, just barely conscious.

You were too focused on Nate to even notice Ghostface crouched down beside you, watching as you cared for the boy. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do.”

He said, startling you and making you grab Nate and crawl away, reaching for the knife. He pulled it away from you, tossing it to the other side of the kitchen.

“Listen. In five minutes, you’re going to call the police and tell them what happened. They’ll bring ambulances and save your little friend here, but it’s the choices you make in the future that’ll keep him alive, understand? Whenever I call, you answer. You don’t tell the police or anyone else about us unless I say so. You break any of my rules, and I’ll kill him. I know where he lives, and where he goes to school. I can find both you and him wherever you go, so don’t you dare think of running. Got it?”

You nodded, holding Nate close to you, and moving your hands over his wounds, doing what you could to slow down the bleeding. “Repeat it.”

“I don’t tell anyone about us, and when you call, I answer.” He reached over, patting your cheek, treating you like some sort of dog. “Good girl. I’ll be in touch, okay? See you soon, sweetheart.”

He tapped your nose with a gloved finger, which reeked of blood and death. He pulled away, walking off, and shutting the back door behind him.

You spent a few minutes making sure he was really gone, before running over to the phone and dialing 911.

–

There you sat, in front of the restaurant, a blanket resting on your shoulders. Bright red and blue lights flashed around you, and you watched as they carried Nate into the ambulance, and took the two others in a body bag.

“Can I go with him?” You asked the two detectives who stood in front of you. “Sure, we just have a few more questions for you, first.”

“I told you all I know. He killed both of them and left without saying another word. Can I please just go now?” You begged.

“What about that person that you claimed was stalking you and called you? Didn’t you think that was him?” The other detective interjected.

You sighed. “No, that wasn’t him. It was just a prank by my next door neighbor. I’m sorry I didn’t call back to say anything, I was just so embarrassed and I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”

The two men traded glances, deciding to belive your lie. “Well was there anything else you remembered about him? Any certain mannerisms you caught on to? Something about his appearance, a smell, or look, anything?”

“I already told you, it was dark and it all happened so fast. I could barely see him, and the only thing I could smell was..the blood.” You admitted.

“Alright, thank you for your time and help, Ms.______. We’re sorry this happened to you. But if you see anything, just give us a call, okay?” The men handed you their card, before finally leaving you be.

You spent an hour there, half of it being checked out by the EMTs, and the other being questioned by detectives. All you want now is to make sure Nate’s okay and to go home, lock yourself in your room and sleep it all off.

You just want to forget this whole night ever happened.

54 notes · View notes

driiven · 9 months

Note

❛ i’m going to get you out of here. ❜ ( ˊᵕˋ ; )

@4freedoms ↳ 𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

the skirmish is a dull ringing in the distance, the rumbling underfoot now nearly gone, moving through time like he's rapidly blinking, witnessing the world in mere frames. bodies splitting and blood falling, everywhere, the smell of human and titan blood with metal and steam, unearthed ground long abandoned, overgrown and mossy― all of it so heavy and prevalent that it mixed into something vile. it stung his eyes, clouded with what he thought was tears, only to discover they were dry as stone, stomach churning― nausea prevalent not only for the acrid scent that lingered in his head as they made their retreat. he peered wearily off the side of his white horse and glimpsed a frame of it. she was coated; him and his horse, nearly saturated on their right sides, the tourniquet burrowing into his flesh and giving way as it hung looser, too thin to be appropriately used, the horse's movements likely undoing the hold. the gleaming emerald gem dangling from the tie dripping with scarlet. hardly discernable where torn flesh stopped and tattered sleeve began, just bright red and glistening, pouring his life out onto the battlefield.

placid. he knew; he no longer feared death. days marched on and his life, his title: commander of the survey corps, spat like a curse. it felt as though the world itself was pleading to pull him from it, to let him sink and let humanity surrender to the mysteries of the future. lay them to rest, buried, undisturbed, so that humanity may exist and never bleed again for anymore gambles. whispering against his neck, sweet and sickening, a blade against his jugular that promised a death quick and easy. every step and every expedition, bounds and leaps for the answers but still descending a staircase, one he could never turn around and go back up. would he die a dismal death ? would he be one of the numbers on the board, another heart lost for the pursuit of freedom, another fallen soul that would have half-hearted promises over a memento serving as a mock-funeral when they couldn't find all the pieces of his body ? a patch ripped from his uniform ? who was he kidding― they'd probably cheer. after all, there was barely a heart left in him, if you asked the glowering eyes of the parents whose children he lead to their death. maybe a dismal death is what he deserved, something quiet that wouldn't paint him like some kind of martyr.

eren was free. their mission complete. he could hear screaming, mournful tones and voices breaking through sobs, shouting and commands being tossed over his head that he no longer had the energy to acknowledge. he couldn't sit up. even despite those voices of urgency, he could feel a strange pressure in the air, a silence. no one wanted to talk about what they had seen. they had no idea where to begin, if any of it was even real. eren's command over the titans.

he wouldn't die yet. not here. he hadn't earned that silence. he had souls to answer for, yet. he had questions. decisions to be made. grey eyes that― he can only imagine when levi will see him. he knows he won't make it back conscious, thoughts rapidly decaying as the image of his captain burns in his mind.

chest leaned against his horse's mane, he felt a hand grasp his sleeve. he peered at one of his soldiers with sharp blue eyes that glowed against skin for how drained it had become. almost white. the reins were slipping from his palm, reaching emptily with an arm he no longer had. she was one of the 104th― those cadets brought forth a reckoning in power, resilience, in a fight to survive and the very same fight against humanity that caused all of this. reiner. bertholdt. all of these questions, a world turned by a group of kids that were meant to be like every other group before them. and yet they were so young, so human. he watched levi care for them, watched them laugh and joke, watched eren hesitate as the very same he'd slept and fought beside betrayed him and even still risked their trust. he couldn't make out the shock of her face: if it were for the blood, for the injury, for him― he wondered if she was scared. he'd only ever spoken to her briefly. his mind struggled to wonder anything else as she struggled to support his weight, mustering the last of what he had to help her, to sit up, even if just enough for her to reach him.

i’m going to get you out of here. he had nothing for her, barely enough to regard her from hooded eyes that wanted so badly to yield as his shoulders quaked with exhaustion. his spine rattled like an old stone tower, ready to collapse. the last he remembered was that they had stopped, his horse's reins in her hands, his remaining hand clutching the violently bleeding stump. she came to the side with his undone tourniquet, grasping the tie before it slipped, slick with blood. his fingers shook as drops fell. he murmured a demand, the last semblance of his command, hearing his voice like something far away, like a dream, like he was standing behind himself. he no longer sounded himself, and he remembers speaking with an urgency and hearing it deliver dull, blunt like he was bored, too tired to say more than two words: ❝ tie this. ❞ so he could continue on. so he could return to the walls with the rest of them. he couldn't remember anything else until he had woken up in a hospital bed.

#i jazz hands at you #here you go #it's not the best but #when you sent me that ask my mind immediately went to bronwyn helping him from when he got his arm McChomped #and so i finally kicked my ass into writing it #blows a kiss #i did my best #ic.#tbt.#4freedoms #i hope you like it <3

3 notes · View notes

smileymoth · 11 months

Text

it hurts so bad when he is on his own but then when he tries to fix it and it gets even worse because he can not fucking control himself. is he asleep, is he awake, no one knows. he's suffocating in his own grief and agony of self deprication and probably a coctail of meds. AND THE WAY HE DELIVERS those three last lines.... girl i'm kissing you on the mouth its so raw and out there from the rest of the opening of the song... that night the screaming hurt because it didn't come from him, it was someone else for once

"we find each other under blankets as warm as summer" is such a EASY lyric and it even rhymes so it's not even that rythmically complex, but the way he delivers it in the song makes me ascend into heaven forever and ever. as warm as summer. come on now... it makes summer warmth seem so comfortable even if it isn't (for me, anyway), is this the point? to make something so uncomfortably warm seem so heavenly??? am i the freak here who hates the sun??? (yes) "we are inseparable" INSEPARABLE. COME ON. AND YOU HAD TO RUIN IT.... the echo of the singing also sends shivers through my brain. it's somewhere far away from you but yet close because otherwise you wouldn't be hearing it... just like a dream, so clear yet distorted

this guy is describing a corpse like i an art student explain a still life painting. "we made it that way" shifting the blame. it was y o u who did it, not we. who is we. you killed them and now you are removing yourself from the situation because this is fine, it's all fine. it's just for the influence, an artist needs inspiration. they have more songs about death and inspiration... im so insane about this band. he's not grasping the situation, he thinks he's still falling in his dream forever but no it's wrong, it's done, it's done forever. "This coma kiss is infinite" no reason i just really like that line. a fluid and intricate dream also insinuates the fact that he remembers it crystal clear....

he's repeating it again, it makes me think he's somewhat grasping the situation but still in complete denial because oh it was so beautiful, death can't be beautiful. i am thinking about a soft green fleece blanket that looks like moss for no reason. he wrapped her up, drowned her, as she was bleeding out trying to stop it so now the blanket is soaked, she was struggling so it got everywhere. now she was the one who was suffocating, not him. "wrapped up in her" he might've been too delusional to realise what he was doing until it was too far gone and he had to make it final so he could never get rid of her even in death, so he made them inseparable from each other because this way they will always be connected.

it all got the better of him, his love became violent and too much, he betrayed himself and her by giving in to his dream like state. he know's he's delusional, that he's better left alone, he trusted himself too much and it landed him here.

morning arrived, it's still so fuzzy in his head he can't grasp it, the same song will have been embedded into his brain, their song, the only thing he could've heard. it's inseparable from the situation now, just like he and her... but the aftermath is grotesque, the ripped out hair, the smell of copper that will never leave. she tried to get out, the hair in the phone cord indicates, but he wanted it all for himself, he couldn't have anyone else nearby. it was a nightmare afterall, which figure would she have called upon if he had let her... he didn't want to find out. but now it's over and perhaps he doesn't know what happened. it was a nightmare not real life. something is wrong, so so wrong, why isn't she moving, why is there blood everywhere. heartrate speeding up yet skipping beats from the fear. something's not right. the fact that the music cuts out before the last line makes me think that it finally clicked, this wasn't a dream afterall

@pikslasrce never call me a coward again <3

@theslyvoid9 tagging you because ive been talking about this stupid song for months now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! moss and all!!!!!

DREAMING BY BOYS NIGHT OUT maybe ill finally be normal avbout this (lying) heres sleep deprived rambles of a song i am obsessed with.....

#moth post #music #graphic depictions of violence #using the ao3 tag bchow else do i even tag this

5 notes · View notes

luvreyn · 2 years

Text

SMOKE

PAIRING: GETO SUGURU X READER

TW: death, blood

You have the same idealogy. Maybe it was because people like you and him know firsthand that to rid the world of curses, you need to rid the world of those who created them in the first place. You and he know how nasty curses taste or smell in your case (your technique works like a purifier where you blow at curses to eradicate them and the smell is so horrible you feel like you’d vomit).

Maybe that’s why you like smoking. To rid yourself of the nasty smell of curses lingering around you.

You blew the smoke and watched him from the corner of your eye. He looks like he’s done with his audience, and by the looks of it, it went well, but one could never know what Geto is thinking.

He can look at those non-sorcerers with a smile one moment and kill them the next.

You nod at him in greeting and he pleasantly greets you and leaves. Probably off to rid himself of the disgusting feeling of being in the presence of non-jujutsu sorcerers, or what he likes to call "monkeys."

The smoke from your cigar blocks your view of him as he leaves.

ii.

He started smoking when he came back from his errand in some place you don’t care enough to remember. Before, he leaves you after small talk, but now he stays right next to you.

The smoke and smell from his cigar lingers around you when he stands to leave for an exorcism.

iii.

The man in front of you is dead, and his blood is everywhere. On the walls, on the ground, on the door, on Geto’s cheek.

"There’s more of them-swarming like flies." he said to you when he noticed you staring. "So don’t worry about it."

You’re not. Which is weird because you have to feel something, but no.

You feel nothing.

Which is a welcome feeling when you used to feel everything—every unwanted touch, every disgusting taste, every nauseating smell.

You nod, ignoring the dead body as you stand next to him.

He smiled at you as you walked into the meeting room where the planning would take place.

iv.

Why do you smoke? He asked one day.

You shrugged. Because it feels right.

Right, huh? He murmurs.

You said nothing, just watched him as you blew the smoke.

You? Why do you smoke?

It feels right. He says, his mouth opening as he takes a smoke. The smoke erases the disgusting feeling of those monkeys.

Really?

Yes. That’s why you smoke too, right?

You’re quiet because he’s right. The smell of a cigar is a thousand times better than the stench of curses. You think that it must be the same for him. The taste of a cigar is a thousand times better than the repulsive taste of curses.

I picked it up after a friend. He suddenly shares. She’s such a bad influence.

He laughs, but you can see a hint of sadness in it.

You hummed. Something tells you it’s not just because he’s been in the presence of those he loathes... Something tells you it’s because he missed them.

You’ve heard he didn’t used to be like this. You heard from stories that he was caring for the weak, that the him before would hate the him now.

You’ve heard of stories of how there used to be some people beside him, some people he cares for deeply, some people he love more than your organization now.

Sometimes, you want to ask what happened, but you’re also not ready to hear the answer.

vi.

You’re thankful that the disgusting pig is dead. Dead, murdered, not coming back before you could get your hand on him.

You’re thankful that Geto already took care of it when you screamed bloody murder.

He smokes his cigar inside the temple to get rid of the smell for your sanity, despite the council prohibiting it.

vii.

If only I was as strong as he is. You turned to him, curious. Then my idealism would be realized.

Who?

My best friend.

Best friend?

Yes, my family and my friend. He looks sad, solemn.

Where’s he now?

He shook his head. On a different path. The right path for him.

You suddenly remember what he murmured before. But what is the right path?

He shrugs. I guess we’ll see.

viii.

He looks really solemn as he looks at the overlooking scenery before you. And for someone who knocked on your door at the dead of the night to ask for your company, he’s quiet.

You think it’s only natural. There are no stakes for you—only your faith and belief and probably your life (but only if they catch you), but the stakes are higher for him. If he failed, he would be executed, leaving Mimiko and Nanako to fend for themselves. If he fails, your organization fails. If he fails, then his sacrifices could mean nothing.

He smokes quietly, deep in his thoughts. He smokes with you all the time now, but this time is different.

Maybe it's because the day you've all been painstakingly waiting for and preparing for is almost upon you.

You sigh, letting your cigar hang loose from your fingers.

Geto, are you okay?

He smiled as if he had just heard his name and not your question. Why don’t you call me by my name? I call you by your name all the time.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, and he laughed.

What? You frowned at him. Don't tell me you don't know. Just say it.

You tasted his name on your tongue. It’s different from the feeling of a cigarette, but it’s not unpleasant.

Suguru… You breathe. Happy?

He grinned, and for a second, you thought he looked absolutely young and carefree and happy.

The smoke from your cigar gives what looks like a halo on his head.

viiii.

Suguru’s plan failed in the end.

Mimiko and Nanako are crying on your shoulder over his death. You feel something. You’re sure you feel something, but you’re not crying.

The rain is falling hard, but the smell of cigarettes is strong. You’ve smelled it so many times before that you've assigned it as his smell. You looked around, but you didn’t find him.

Your heart ached.

The twins looked at you questionably, and you waved their concerns, ushering them inside the temple so they could eat and sleep.

The twins are already asleep. You have to move tomorrow morning, and you need to find the twins someplace safe to lay low now that the organization is as good as dead.

You put your hand on the railing overlooking the city lights. The memory of Suguru smoking right next to you is still fresh. It happened just a few days ago, but the memory looks like an old photograph preserved in feelings you couldn’t quite tell.

It’s like he’s everywhere, like the smoke in the cigars. The smell lingers, his memory persists... endures...

("Are you Suguru’s friend?" A voice behind you spoke, and you turned, your cigar falling to the ground quietly.)

and haunts until the very end.

#reynwrites #reynwrites.jjk #i have so many things i want to write but this won!!#love u suguru!!#geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #now i sleep #so dizzy and sleepy sorry for the errors!!

19 notes · View notes

yeahimaloser · 3 years

Text

Wingless

Hello! So this was the fic I've been working on, and I just wanted to quickly say this is an AU-based fic (Kinda).

WARNING MANGA SPOILERS

So I understand what's going on in the manga, but I started this fic when Keigo was injured. so I wrote a fic about how Keigo and you would deal with him losing both his wings and a part of himself.

this story contains manga spoilers, as well as warnings of mental and physical abuse (kind of), hurt to comfort, mentions of Depression, blood, someone gets glass stuck in their hand, and therapy.

no pronouns are given to the reader. Word count: 7k

. . .

You practically ran through the hospital, not listening to the nurses and doctors as they told you to slow your pace. Your mind only screamed out for him, screaming for him to be alive, for him to just be okay. You could hear your heart thumping hard against your chest, tears spilling down your cheeks.

As you ran near his room, a doctor finally managed to stop you.

“Please, calm down! He’s in this room but I can not allow you in if you act like this. You will only stress my patient out more, and we have just managed to sedate him.” the doctor held out his hands as he spoke, trying to calm you.

Although, it clearly wasn’t working. Your eyes only shone more with brimming tears, your hands shook as the doctor spoke.

After a few minutes of you catching your breath and calming yourself down, the doctor told you that you were able to see him.

You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you walked through the doors to his hospital room.

The window that overlooked the city gave an impressive view (if it wasn’t in a hospital, you probably would have stopped and looked down at the city below). The bathroom, you could see, was on your left. There was even a vanity and a television in the room as well.

But you really didn’t have time to look around, your eyes were already focused on the man that lay on the hospital bed.

Machines were hooked up to him, tubes ran out of his skin every witch way. He was flipped on his stomach to accommodate his wings or lack thereof. Bandages covered almost every area you could see, the blood on them was minimal, yet they looked new, meaning they had been changed.

You rushed to his side, stopping only when the line of his IV almost collide with your foot.

“Keigo,” you said it so lightly you were afraid only you could even hear it.

But Keigo’s eyes shot open, looking up at you, “...Y/N?”

God, his voice was a raspy mess, it sounded as though it wasn’t even his.

If you could, you would break down right then and there. Crying over him, telling him you were there for him, that you would always be there for him, no matter the hardships he was sure to overcome. You wanted desperately to hold him, to whisper love-filled words to him, to wipe away the pain you knew he was feeling.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t.

You knew you had to be strong for him in that moment, and for all the moments yet to come. You knew that what was going to happen to you two would not be easy.

So you couldn’t cry, no matter how much you wanted to.

You lightly stroked his cheek, “I’m here Kei, I’m right here. I won't leave you.”

Silent tears ran down his face as he spoke, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

----

After what happened with Dabi Toya, the commission tried their best to cover everything up, telling the public that Dabi had to be wrong. But the public eye was persistent.

The truth was out, there was nothing you or Keigo could do to stop it. Everyone knew about his name, his father, and what he had done to Twice, as well as the fact that he had lost to Dabi. You knew it would be hard for him to come back to that.

The media had always been a bit ruthless when it came to Keigo, but now, it was up by tenfold. They talked about how they believed that Keigo was not worthy of his hero title. A false hero they called him.

And Keigo?

Luckily, he didn’t hear very much of it. You made sure of that. You wanted him to rest, to let what had happened wash over him little by little, and you knew if he heard what the news had been saying about him, that he might never recover.

When Keigo was a bit more stable, he still rarely talked.

His eyes didn’t shine like they used to, his face, once so uplifting and beautiful, was marred with a long scar that he had on his face.

But no matter what, you stayed with him, no matter what, you would be by his side.

But seeing Keigo like this? It was unbearable.

He would only eat if you were there to persuade him, he would only look at you if you practically begged him to.

You knew it was a selfish want, you knew it was, but you wanted your Keigo back. You wanted the man who held you in his arms, telling you he would fly to the moon and back if it meant you would give him your love. You wanted the man that stopped at nothing to protect others, you wanted the man that smiled when the going got tough, you wanted Keigo.

But you had to accept that this was Keigo.

And you wouldn’t leave him, you couldn’t. He was always there for you when you needed him most, and you weren’t going to do the same.

After what had happened with Keigo, the commission thought it would be best to send him away, let the media storm die down, letting him also take time to heal his wings.

You had to fight them in order to come as well. At first, they told you that Hawks should just be concerned with getting his wings back and becoming “hero ready”.

You should have known. You knew, of course, that the HPSC was corrupted, but you didn’t think they were heartless. Yet, you were proven wrong.

You wished they could understand, you wished everyone could understand. Keigo was so loving and kind, you just wished people would understand that about him. What Keigo had to do to Twice… you knew he didn’t want to kill him, Keigo wasn’t like that. He didn’t take pleaser in violence, all he wanted was to see others happy.

And it made your blood boil that the higher up’s couldn’t understand.

You told them how Keigo needed someone to be his caretaker, and you would be the best candidate. You knew he wouldn’t object, you told them that you would work for free, seeing as he and you had been dating, as well as living together for the last few years.

Finally, with a lot of persuading, they agreed.

They sent you and Keigo to a remote location near the shores of Japan, seeing as they wanted Keigo to not remember the effects of the fight, and thought the best course of action was to send him so far out that he would have nothing to remind him of, “The Incident”.

The house was a small little thing, a lot smaller than what you and Keigo were used to at least.

It was close to the ocean, giving it a more country feeling rather than the city vibe you and Keigo used to live in. The smell of the ocean hit you full force when you two arrived, the salty, yet homie smell was a nice difference to the fullness of the air of the city.

The home had a total of seven rooms, all on the same floor.

The master bedroom had enough space, it fit a bed, a vanity, and a closet as well as a connection to the master bathroom. The walls were painted a low white, you wouldn’t call it cream however that was the closest rendition. The floors were all wood, you could feel the sand beneath your feet, you had a feeling the stuff would get everywhere.

There were three bathrooms, a guest room, a living room, and a kitchen.

The whole house honestly just felt...nice.

The floors felt grainy against your feet, but it felt weirdly cozy, kind of like how a beach house should feel. The carpeting was a bit musty for your taste, you had a feeling that would be your first project to do with the house. The couch was a bit too firm, you expected that, but still, it just needed to be worn in. The kitchen wasn’t big, but for two people, it would do.

You spent the first week moving in, all by yourself.

Keigo would only stay in bed, looking out the window, in some far-off world he was in.

You wanted to cry when you would walk into the master bedroom and see him upright on the mattress, not doing or saying anything, just staring, a shell of the man you once knew.

It made your heart clench though, normally, Keigo would always be the first to lend a helping hand, that was just his nature, to want to help. But this, this was something that broke you even more.

-----

The first few weeks were rough.

Not hard, just rough.

The only way you could even describe Keigo was just numb.

His eyes were sunken, his hair a tattered mess. His face was droopy, the once perfect-looking man now sat alone in bed, looking as though he was almost near death.

And his scar.

It served as a perfect reminder of what had happened, a symbol of the pain Keigo had gone through. You knew what he felt when he saw it, you knew what he was probably thinking when he looked in the mirror to have the long stripe of red and pink looking back at him.

Yet, you pretended not to notice.

He would barely say anything to you, choosing instead, to be silent.

For the first few days, it was hard to get him out of bed, hard for him to even eat anything.

On most days you found yourself sitting alone when you ate, going on walks by yourself on the sandy beach, watching TV all alone.

You missed him, it was hard not to. But you knew that this was hardest on Keigo, so of course, you let him have all the time he needed. Letting him sulk and wallow in his self-pity, letting his feelings shroud him. You felt as though you had to, he had every right to feel this way.

But it was hard.

It was hard having Keigo sleep in the master bedroom while you slept all alone in the guest, it was hard to be so silent in the house, it was hard living with someone who was basically a ghost.

One day though, you found him crying.

You quickly ran over to him, scared that he had somehow hurt himself. But he didn’t, nothing had happened to him.

But he sat straight up in his bed, shaking like he was cold, his hands wrapped around something you couldn’t see.

“Keigo, honey?” you asked carefully as you stepped into the room, “Is everything ok hun?”

But it was like he couldn’t even hear you, whatever he was holding, it certainly had his attention.

You walked slowly over to him, reaching out to him, like he was a wounded animal, “Keigo? What is it?”

Finally, you managed to see what it was.

It was a picture of him, of him with his beautiful red wings, smiling at the camera in his hero outfit, with one hand giving a thumbs up and the other around your waist.

In comparison to the picture, you could barely tell it was Keigo anymore. With his sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones, the scar is a stripe of change.

“Keigo I-” you took a deep breath, what were you supposed to even say? How could you even console him? How could you help ease his pain?

You couldn’t.

So you just held him, held him in your arms, trying to hide your tears from him, so he wouldn’t see you hurting as well.

. . .

But one day, when you were sitting on the porch of your borrowed home, watching the waves hit the sandy beach below, watching the sun as it hit the horizon.

It was bitter-sweet, you were all alone, watching the beautiful sight without anyone to share it with.

You sighed, contemplating whether or not to go back inside, but then... Keigo came.

It startled you, you weren’t expecting him to come off his bed, much less to see you.

He sat down in the nice little chair that was right next to you.

He didn’t say anything for a good few moments, but then, all of a sudden he spoke.

“The ocean looks really pretty, I like...I like being here with you.”

You were shocked, to say the least. Keigo had barely acknowledged your presence during this time, he hadn’t spoken to you at all during these few weeks. So to hear him say that...

You damn near cried.

You had been holding in your anxiousness and, overall, depression of not having Keigo back to his regular self. It was hard, that much was certain, but still, he was going through such a difficult time, you had to be there for him.

You quickly brushed the tear that had feel from your eye, “I-I like being here with you too.”

----

After that, things were...different.

Keigo was a bit more clingy, although, maybe you should say protective.

You would go out on your walks and would come home to him being upset, asking where you were, and fussing about you going out.

“Well, what if something happened? Just stay here.”

You asked the doctors about that, they told you how some patients latched on to certain things or people after a traumatic event, most of the time clinging desperately to what they felt was the only thing they had left.

They told you his newfound desire to be near you could be a sign of him getting worse, or it could be a sign he was getting better.

The doctor told you it was much more likely that Keigo needed something to hang on to, a sort of attachment. And again, they told you Keigo needed to see a therapist, he had so much trauma after the battle that you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You knew that you should listen and that you probably couldn’t deal with Keigo all on your own. But still, you wanted to move at Keigo's pace, and you knew he needed time.

. . .

The first night you and Keigo spent in the same bed after what had happened was...strange.

Although you two lived in the same little beach house for a month now, you two haven't slept next to one another, you weren’t sure Keigo was ready just yet.

And yet, he was the one who asked you.

It happened on a normal day, while you were making dinner when Keigo spoke.

“Hey...Y/N..” you turned back to him, giving him your full attention, “Could we….could we try sleeping together? I know...I know it’s been some time but-”

“Yes!” you hastily accepted, “I mean...only if you want to.”

And so, you found yourself curled up next to Keigo, feeling him cuddled up to you, which was nice of course, but his body felt stiff like it didn’t want to be close to you.

The whole experience was… different. Normally, Keigo would wrap his arms around you, holding you against him, holding you securely and tightly, like you knew he wouldn’t let you go.

But this, this was different, but you should have expected that by now. You should have known that, now, it was so unlikely that you would ever see the old version of Keigo again.

And then it was there again, that slap of guilt, that pang of hurt at your own thought. How could you think that? Keigo was hurting, and you were upset that he was in pain?

You bit your lip, quietly willing yourself not to cry.

------

Keigo’s mood swings would happen randomly, with no merit at all.

One moment, he was blindly looking at the TV, the next he would be offering to help with dinner, then the next he was screaming at you to add more pepper to the onions.

When his first outburst happened, you blamed yourself.

You had left Keigo for what only seemed like a moment, going outside to feel the air on your face, wanting to just get out of the stuffy little cottage.

You were just watching from the porch when you heard it.

The sound of glass shattering.

You whipped your head to the sound, to find it coming from inside.

You rushed inside, running towards the kitchen.

“Keigo!” you cried out.

You stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at Keigo on the floor.

A glass of some sort had broken in Keigo’s hand, from what you could tell. It seemed like he had gotten some of it stuck in his hand, blood dripped onto the floor, sticking to the hardwood floor.

Keigo just stared, his eyes the most lively you’ve seen them in weeks. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, just staring at his hand, looking at the blood as it dripped...dripped...dripped.

And then, he screamed.

It was so loud and so unexpected you quickly covered your ears, trying to block out the head-splitting sound.

When you finally regained your composure, you rushed down to Keigo's side, trying your best to help him.

But Keigo shoved you away.

“No! Stop! Go away! I-I don’t wanna hurt anymore! Stop it, leave me alone!” he scooted away from you, holding out his palms, trying to make you leave.

But you wouldn’t.

Slowly, you spoke, “Keigo, I need to help you, ok? I’m not here to hurt you, baby, I’m Y/N, I love you.”

You inched closer and closer as Keigo hiccuped and sniffed.

“Stop it! Don’t c-come any closer!”

You stilled, only for a moment. Then, you moved forward again.

“Honey, I have to clean your wound, please baby.”

Keigo’s breath still raged, but he let you come closer.

Before you even looked at the wound on his hand, you gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Keigo was shocked, flinching a bit at first.

You carefully picked up his hand, observing it lightly. The glass pricked his hand, but the overall damage wasn’t all that bad, it might have been worse if you hadn’t rushed to him.

You took a deep breath, “Keigo, I’m gonna need to remove the glass-”

But Keigo cut you off, “No no no no no, please. Please, I don’t wanna get hurt again. Please.”

“Keigo,” you stroked your cheek lightly, “it’s ok, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment, “Remember when I got that splinter from the hardwood at that crummy hot spring? And remember how you had to pull it out? And remember how scared I was?”

He thought for a moment as if the memory was buried deep inside him, a lifetime ago. He nodded, tears still running down his face.

“It’s gonna be like that, ok? Quick, and I’ll be right there with you, just like you were for me.”

After a moment, Keigo nodded.

You made quick work of the glass, helping Keigo through the little whimpers and hiccups he let out.

Keigo was never like this before, never fighting over glass in his hand, he was a hero, he dealt with pain daily. But this Keigo was beyond damaged. He was ripped in half, put through more pain than you would ever understand, the mental strain of that had to be so much, it had to weigh on him.

The thought only made your resolve stronger, only made your need to see Keigo get better that much more secure.

After you had bandaged his hand, kissing his knuckles and wrist softly in order to calm him down, you noticed how exhausted he was.

“Do you wanna go and take a nap, Kei?”

He nodded.

You walked him to the room, helping him to bed.

You planted a small kiss on his lips before moving away to leave.

But Keigo caught the fabric of your shirt, pulling on it lightly, “Wait.”

You turned back to face him, “Yeah. what's up Kei?”

“Um, could you...join me?”

Your body perked up. This was one of the first times he had seemed...needy for contact with you. Sure, he still slept next to you, but you figured that was mainly due to some comfortability. But the way Keigo was looking at you right now? His eyes softened with desperation, his body, while still heavy with drowsiness, had enough strength to pull you to him. He seemed to genuinely want you to stay.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, “Of course I can Keigo.”

You slid into the spot next to him, and Keigo had his arms immediately around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His face nuzzled softly into your neck, his whole body trapping you in a needed embrace.

You played with his hair, giving yourself a mental note that you needed to wash it and brush it out later.

That's when you heard the sniffling in your neck.

“Kei,” you said gently, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few labored breaths for Keigo to respond, “I’m sorry.”

At first, you were confused. What did Keigo have to be sorry about? He had done nothing wrong to you, he hadn’t said anything bad to you, the most he had really done was worry you. But he continued.

“I’m sorry for being so weak, for letting myself get like this, it’s all my fault. And I’m sorry I’m a burden for you, I know how much you loved me, how much you loved being with a strong hero,” he took another shaky breath before continuing, “But I can't. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts so bad. And now, no one wants me. I’m a failure, they’re right,” Keigo squeezed you tighter as if you would leave him too, “I’m a false hero. I failed everyone, the commission, my friends, Tokoyami. And you,” he looked back up at you, “why are you even here? I’m useless now, why can’t you see that? Why won’t you just leave? It would be better for you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying before you felt how shaky your voice was, “No. Keigo that’s not true, I love-”

But he cut you off, “No!” he bolted upright, “Stop it! Stop it Y/N! I’m not who you love, that Keigo is dead and gone, look at me! I’m a shell of who he was, I’m the failure he left behind! Christ Y/N, I fucking broke down because I had fucking glass in my hand!”

He cupped his ears, seemingly trying to block out some sort of noise that you couldn’t even hear. Rocking back and forth lightly, his bandaged hand squeezing hard on his left ear.

“Keigo stop it,” you tried to get his hand away, “you're going to hurt yourself!”

After fighting him for a moment, you finally got him to put his hands down. You pulled him to you, placing his head on your chest as you calmed him down.

“Kei,” you said after a long stretch of silence, “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

Keigo hiccuped, “B-but.”

You shushed him, “No but’s. I’m here to stay, it’ll be hard, I know that, but I can’t leave you.”

For the first time in God now’s how long, Keigo reached up and kissed you.

It wasn’t a light, small little peck either, it was a sloppy, desired-filled kiss. You were shocked at first, seeing as how he was yelling at you a second ago, but you let yourself indulge a bit. You craved Keigo, missed his lips, his strong, protective hands that run up your body, you just missed him really.

Your hand moved down to his chest, pulling him deeper. His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you more in.

His teeth clashed against yours, and maybe it was because you two haven't done this in so long, or it was because neither of you cared.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as Keigo pushed more against you, pushing you near the head of the bed.

After a few moments of the kiss, you pulled away.

“Please,” Keigo whispered lightly, “Please don’t leave me.”

------

After that, the situation with you and Keigo became so much more complicated.

Keigo would become so irritable, that you had to stand outside for hours just for him to calm down.

But the worst was when he acted so apologetic afterward, saying his, “I’m sorry”’s over and over again, sputtering about how he would, “do better.”

Of course, you felt like absolute shit, wanting to scream, to cry, to leave even. But you couldn’t. Keigo was in so much pain, you had to be strong now, you had to be there for him like he had been for you. You shoved down your tears, fighting the urge to scream and cry, waiting out your feelings.

Was it a bad coping mechanism? Yes. But you already felt so useless, you didn’t want to be a burden too.

For a while, you had hoped that he would help himself get better, you had hoped that he really was trying to get better and understand how to help himself more, but as time went on, you saw how naive you were.

You realized that Keigo was almost beyond repair, some days he would be silently upset, not talking or saying anything. While others you could hear it in his voice.

While some days you came into your shared room to see him curled up on the bed, crying and whimpering. And then there was you, unable to help, unable to tell him how, “it would be ok,” how, “I’m here for you, Kei.”

Because you knew he wouldn’t listen.

And yet, he would never yell at you, never scream or degrade you, he would only seem to be mad at...himself.

Yet, it was strange, because he seemed to grow more and more protective of you.

If you were to leave the house, he would become upset, saying how; “You could have gotten hurt, next time either take me with you or stay...please.”

It was strange how he always asked, how he never demanded.

But today, today was different.

You had noticed that Keigo was especially irritable, so you decided to just stay out of his way. Deciding to work on meal prep, because of Keigo’s accident the doctors told you to watch his meals carefully, making sure he eats a well-balanced meal each and every day.

Maybe Keigo would calm down, maybe today could still be ok, maybe you could salvage the day and make it a good one.

But that was before the broadcast.

. . .

You were outside that day, watching as the sun showned on the ocean.

You wished silently that Keigo could have enough strength to come out and see it with you. Yet, you didn’t push him.

Keigo, on the other hand, was watching some TV. Well, "watch" was a strong word. Keigo’s eyes were far off again, You never asked him what he was thinking about, but you knew it had to be something but what happened.

As you watch the waves crash against the shore, and the sun slowly sets, that's when it happened.

The broadcast.

At first, the broadcast was only just a news reporter talking about how; “us as a society must look forward, through these dark times.” Talking about the loss of certain Hero’s and civilians alike.

but the segment right after that, that's what sent Hawks into his spiral.

“And now, what has happened to the pro hero known as Hawks? And I posed a question to all of our viewers out there, should he be forgiven? Can a man who ruthlessly killed someone, even a villain, be considered a hero?”

You weren't there when the news reporter posed the question, you were only there for the aftermath.

At first, Keigo was in shock, and then, his outburst happened.

It was the worst outburst since the accident. He was screaming, yelling, hitting anything, he just needed some way to get his anger out.

When you heard the commotion, you immediately ran inside, worried that something may have hurt him. But as you went inside, you realized that there was nothing wrong, at least not from what you could see. But to Keigo, everything was wrong.

When you came in, all you could hear was yelling, “What was it all for?! I just...I just wanted to help!”

You were stunted into silence, only being able to watch from afar.

It was like you couldn’t move, your body glued down to the floor, unable to help Keigo.

And then, he hit the TV, hard.

And that's when you finally spoke.

“Keigo stop!”

You rushed forward, grabbing his arm from hitting the wall.

You latched on to him, “Keigo please, please honey just calm-”

But it was too late, and before you knew what was happening, Keigo had thrown you on the ground.

You landed on your hands, cushioning your fall, but that didn’t mean it hurt.

For a moment, everything was still, everything was silent. Keigo wasn’t yelling, he wasn't screaming, and when you looked back up, the only thing you saw was true horror and guilt.

You panted lightly, your eyes blown wide as you stared back up at Keigo.

“...Y/N-”

What was he to say?

He didn’t know.

“K-Keigo,” you were at a complete loss for words.

After a few more minutes, you stood back up. You took one, shaky breath, before you spoke.

“Keigo, I’m sorry. I-I...I can’t do this right now. It’s just… this is all too much for me right now. I think I need to clear my head.”

You moved past him, not even looking him in the eye. How could you? Your mind was a mess, a thousand thoughts jumbled through your brain.

You opened the door quickly, taking your car keys before you left, refusing to look back.

----

The ocean waves looked stunning in the sunlight, it might have been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

At least, you would have if the tears in your eyes weren’t blocking out your vision.

And your head wouldn’t stop spinning. Was Keigo ok? Should you go back? Could you even go back? What would you even say to him?

No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that leaving Keigo behind was for the best, that you two just needed to be away from each other, you felt like your heart was being slowly stabbed through with needles, one for every second away.

You sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your palm.

There had to be a way Keigo could get better, some way you could help. But every thought eluded you, how could you help someone so far gone?

You thought back to the doctor's suggestion of getting a therapist, maybe it was time. Keigo was getting too out of hand for you, and as much as you loved him, you knew that this was hurting him as much as you.

A sigh escaped your lips, why did this have to be so difficult?

And that thought came to you again.

Why couldn’t he just be himself again?

You shivered at your own selfish, hurtful thoughts. Keigo was still him, he just needed help, and thinking about how much you wanted the old him back wasn’t going to help him or you. And it wasn’t fair either, to expect that after what happened he would just be fine.

You knew you would always be there for him, but you supposed you didn’t think it would be this hard.

You placed your face in your hands.

How the hell could you help him? You felt as though Keigo was on the edge of a mountain, and you were the only thing he could grab onto, but now, he was pulling you down with him.

A small, shaky sigh escaped you.

Crunch, crunch.

Footsteps. Fast approaching, almost running.

You cocked your head up, preparing to be kicked off whoever's land that you were on (considering how you just decided to drive to the middle of nowhere).

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that this was public-”

But you stopped mid-sentence.

There stood Keigo, tears streamed down his cheeks, his panting breaths and sweat glistening from his body must have meant he came all the way out here on foot.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could get a word in, Keigo had bent down to you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still in shock, “N-no.”

He sighed, but his face concentrated like he was thinking too hard, “I’m sorry.” and then, a long, silent pause, “I don’t...I don’t know what else to say.”

“...I don’t either,” you looked back up at him again. “You could have really hurt me, and I just don’t know how to deal with all this. I don’t know how to deal with...you.”

Keigo flinched, the implications of your words stung.

“It’s just...I want to be there for you, I really do, but it’s so hard,” you looked down tears threatening to escape, “I love you s-so much, b-but,” a silent hiccup went through you, “I don’t know how to help anymore.”

Keigo stayed silent, his words trapped under his tongue. He also didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to help himself too, but he knew deep down he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. But he hated what he was doing to you, he hated what he was making you go through.

“Keigo,” he looked back up at you, “Do you still love me?”

Keigo stared wide-eyed back to you, his words at a loss. “I- of course, I do Y/N-”

“Then why don’t you say it?”

He paused, “...What do you mean?”

You sighed, “Have you noticed that ever since what happened, you’ve not been able to say ‘I love you,' to me? Because I have. Each morning I wake up, and I always say, ‘good morning Kei, I love you,’ and you never say it back. It feels like I’m just invisible to you. I don’t want to look at you as something to fix, or as something to make me feel miserable, but I can’t live with someone who just sees me like a ghost.”

It took a while before Keigo finally responded.

“I don’t see you as a ghost,” he said, his voice as low as a whisper, “it’s that I see me as the ghost. I lost...I lost a big part of me in that fight.”

Subconsciously, he reaches back to his used-to-be wings, his fingers flinching when nothing is there.

“Keigo, you are not your wings.”

“How can you say that when everything I was...was built off of them?”

You leaned forward, a hand placed lightly on his cheek, “Your wings did not build our relationship, we did. And we still have each other. Your wings were never the reason I loved you, your wings were always just a part of you, they were never you.”

Keigo looked back at you, placing a hand on top of yours. After a few, dragged-out moments, Keigo leaned into you. But not before whispering lightly on your lips, “I do love you, Y/N.”

. . .

Things were hard, but they were better.

It had been three weeks since the accident that happened with you and Keigo. He agreed to go to a therapist, after what happened with you two, he wanted to get help.

What neither you nor he expected though, was for his therapist to also recommend you get help as well.

In his words; “After understanding the stress that Mr. Takami has gone through, as well the details that he has shared with me, I believe that it is necessary for you to also have some sort of mental treatment. Keigo was not in the right state of mind for a very long time, and you were the only person here to look after him. I believe you first need to talk about your problems separately and then move on to couples therapy. Some of the actions Mr. Takami has put you through may have had negative effects on your psyche.”

Although that was a shock to you, Keigo visibly became more saddened after that.

After the conversation with the therapist, Keigo even offered to move out of your shared room.

“If- if you’re uncomfortable with me being here, I can take the spare room.”

You only shook your head no, saying, “I’m not uncomfortable sleeping next to you, Kei, we’re in this together.”

And you were.

Keigo went to his therapist, as did you. At first, you weren’t sure, seeing as Keigo and you would see the same person and how that may make a conflict of interest, but he assured you that Keigo dealt with trauma relating to his fight, as did you of course, but your trauma and anxiety was more based upon him.

So, you made it work.

After a while of one-on-one counseling, you moved to couples therapy.

It was hard, mostly for Keigo, because he didn’t want to admit to himself, or you, that he had hurt you as much as he did.

So, you opened first.

You talked about how scared you were of losing Keigo, not just physically but mentally, how it hurt you that some days he wouldn’t talk to you. You even opened up about missing the old him.

It seemed like when you first opened your mouth, everything just came pouring out.

And so, after you explained your side, slowly, Keigo started to explain his.

He explained how he didn’t want to hurt you, but how he just couldn’t help himself in that moment. He felt like everyone was turning on him, abandoning him, he thought it was only a matter of time before you. And he couldn’t handle how that thought chased him, his mind just became so jumbled and uncertain.

But he wanted to get better, to show you the man you deserved.

Soon, you came to realize how your relationship would never be the same since that day, how you had lost a part of Keigo, and how Keigo had lost a part of himself. And that part, that part split you two, like a deep cut, and now you two had to sew it back together, and you both knew it would be hard.

Losing that part of your life took time, it took practice and understanding, it took watching Keigo wake up in a nightmare, watching as he screamed and all you could do was hush him and stroke his cheek softly as you told him how you were there, even as tears slipped down your cheeks as well.

But you let them, you let yourself show him that you were sharing the pain, that you were together in this.

Keigo was hurting, you knew that, but as your therapist told you; “You are grieving, grieving for that Keigo that died in that battle, and not only are you grieving, you are also trying your best to take care of someone who was already so broken that now they might as well be shards of the vase they once were.”

But that didn’t stop you from explaining how you felt selfish and terrible, how you felt like you were a bad person for feeling upset, for wanting Keigo to go back to you.

After each therapy session, you two would go out and sit on the porch, not doing or saying anything, because you both realized you had said plenty before.

. . .

After a year since then, things had gotten significantly better.

Keigo and you understood the inner workings of your relationship, not only that, you both understand each other a lot better. Understanding how you both needed one another, how you two could only grow to help each other.

Almost a year has passed since the incident with Dabi, a year since Keigo “lost” his wings.

But his wings were back, and he was back.

Although, maybe not fully.

Keigo was almost like a different vision of himself, a more, down to earth, real version of who he was.

Maybe, it was the person he always was, but just never could show it.

With you, he was the most caring he’s ever been.

Watching as you fell asleep in his arms, creasing your body oh-so-perfectly as he kissed you deeply, his sing-song praises in your ear. He loved you so much.

And you, you helped him grow as well. Being there for him, watching him, helping him.

You never left him, you carried out your promise to yourself, keeping him with you no matter what. You loved him so much, and you were so happy to see how he healed.

And here you both were, Watching as the sunset, as the ocean waves tied down, the sun Illuminating the water passing over.

You watched as Keigo’s eyes lit up in the bright light, his scar’s still reflecting the hard past that he's been through, and yet, reminding you how lucky you are.

At that moment you leaned in, giving him a light peck on his cheek.

Keigo turned to you, before laughing, “Why did you do that?"

"Because... I just realized how lucky I am to have you. Thank you, Keigo.”

"There's no need to thank me, dove," he said, kissing you as well "I'll always love you, and I always will be thankful that I have you as well."

#bnha #bnha hawks #mha #hawks #mha keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #mha keigo x reader #mha x reader #hurt to comfort #x readers #hawks imagine #fanfic hawks

345 notes · View notes

virtual-luvr · 3 years

Text

DISCLAIMER: spoilers for chainsaw man up ahead, hints of gore and death, I hope you enjoy :D

No one.

There was nothing, and no one.

You open your eyes and you're met with the sunlight peeking through a window.

It was calm, a little bit too calm.

Where is Denji? Why is there no noise?

Usually at this hour Denji would be waking you up with the sound of his loud voice or maybe even throwing Pochita onto your chest.

So...why hasn't that happened yet?

Panic started to set, so you rose from your makeshift bed on the floor and jumped up.

You searched all the rooms in the small house.

No one.

Denji never left without, atleast, a note or he would try and wake you up to let you know he was off.

Denji was gone, no trace of him anywhere. Where the hell could he have gone, he defenetly couldnt have gone too far, could he?

This was just not what you were used to, maybe you're just overreacting.

Denji would come back, he was just running an errand, he would be back in no time.

Atleast thats what you'd hoped for.

You waited for what felt like hours, each look at the closed door making you feel more anxious and sick.

It was nearing noon and there was still no sign of Denji, you hadn't been able to eat anything, and you tried your best to look around for him. Even going as far as to ask people walking around if they had seen a certain blonde haired boy running around.

But still no sign of Denji.

You walk around for a bit more, even holding one of Pochitas favorite treats to see if they would atleast come home.

No one.

Before you could take a step back and go back home to your small house, noise erupted.

Very peculiar noise, a chainsaw.

The noise gave you hope, you knew what it was!

It was Pochita, it had to be Pochita, you finally could be able to see Denji again.

You run towards the noise not even caring about your shoes getting even more dirty then they already were, you were just worried about Denji and Pochita.

As you look up, you're met with the peculiar site of what you could only imagine was a warehouse.

You had no time to process though, because soon enough the rearing of a chainsaw was heard once again and you ran in.

Blood.

Blood was everywhere.

There were more bodies then you could ever count, what the fuck was happening.

You had no clue, you couldnt even step one more foot in because you'd be stepping on pools of blood and guts.

The smell was awful, you almost ran away right then and there.

But you couldnt, Denji and Pochita had to be around here somewhere.

Looking up, your eyes meet a sight you never expected to see.

A devil, but that wasnt what your eyes were really fixed on.

No, your eyes were fixed on whoever had a chainsaw for a head.

Maybe it would have been better if you stayed back at home.

You started to regret your decision of looking for Denji, this wasnt a pleasent scene and it isnt something you wanted to look at for much longer.

Before you can take a step back, blood splatters all over you and the devil falls to the floor. It smelled horrible, how were you going to get this off, you and Denji never had the money for a water bill of all things.

You curse in your head before looking at the culprit for the devils death.

Said culrpit had been screaming amd yelling almost all through the fight.

His voice sounded so familiar, you didnt want to admit it but you had an idea on who it was.

Tall, teenage and idiotic boy, yep that was Denji.

And if thats a chainsaw, that must mean Pochita had probably fused with him.

You had read and learned about this once before, before it all went down hill for your life. It was something interesting, but you never thought it would happen to Denji.

It broke your heart to think about Pochita dying, but you couldnt think about it for too long.

"Someone beat us to it" you hear someone say, it kicks you back into your senses.

You run away from Denjis, now almost passed out, body. Scampering off to one of the storage units in the warehouse and hiding behind it, you could only hope that whoever said that wasn't able to see you.

You recognized that voice as well, how could your forget, she had taken your parents away from you.

Makima was her name, wasnt it? You certainly didnt expect to be seeing her after all these years.

But, alas, your paths seemed to cross.

That was an inconvenience at the moment though, so you decide to hide instead of having her catch you.

You only hoped that she wouldnt do anything bad to Denji.

Taking a risk, you peek your head over the storage unit, dull eyes meet yours.

She had seen you.

Even thought Makima had seen you though, she made no move to get you out from behind the storage unit.

Instead she decided to keep talking to Denji.

You couldnt hear much of the conversation, but what you were able to catch from it made you worry more for Denji.

Makima slowly picks up Denjis body before going back to a black car.

As soon as you hear the engine roar to life and started running, you bolt out from behind the storage unit and run behind the car.

Makima tilts her head with a smile as she sees you running behind the car before coming to a stop, looking at her with whatever emotion you had left.

Anger, resentment, sadness, anything.

You were alone again, no one to accompany you.

No one.

[1000 words; april/8/21]

#virtual luvr is typing #male reader #x reader #x male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader #chainsaw man imagines #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man story #chainsaw man x male reader #denji story #denji imagine #denji x male reader #denji x reader

591 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

Moving day

Based on @lucywrites02's writing challenge, with the prompts "1. You're family" and "8. I have a surprise for you". I wish you a very happy birthday, Lucy!

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (Tony Stark's daughter, not Morgan)

Word count: 3.2 K

Warnings: fluff and pregnancy :) This was very adorable to write.

Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87,@jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88, @enderslove

Gif: @moonrainbow

It had surprised Thor greatly how quickly and intensely his brother had fallen for you. He was as committed and truthful as he has never been in his long, long life. He looked at you softly, in comparison with everyone else. As soon as you walked in a room, he followed you with his gaze and invited you to his conversation. It wasn’t a surprise that after a few months of this very silent flirting (that very few noticed, because it mainly consisted in batting eyelashes and repressing subtle smiles when the other was around) you’d come out of the shell and admit you started dating. Thor was ecstatic.

Tony, on the other hand, was not amused. Not amused at all; in fact, he hated the idea of you going around with that God. He said, explicitly “if you ever get in trouble because of him, you solve it yourself. Nothing of coming for daddy to help, clear?”. Pepper had told him to cut some slack, and observe at how happy you were together, but he, stubborn to the bone, had to take a few months more before accepting the fact that his little girl was in love with the God of Mischief.

But the months passed by; almost a year, and you grew closer and closer. You hated to sneak into his room every night, and get interrupted all the time by every single soul in the compound, or mocked to death every time you cuddled on the sofa, watched a movie or read a book together. So, it all boiled down to the same conversation:

“I don’t think he’s ready”, you said while pouring some milk on your cereal. Nat rolled her eyes.

“He’s even readier than you”, insisted Wanda. They were exhausted from having the same conversation over and over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do something about it. “He’s lived much longer, if any of you two were to be unready, that’d be you”.

“Do you think I’m not ready?”, you doubted yourself.

“God, Wanda. You’re planting unnecessary seeds here. The girl’s already anxious enough”.

“I just think… I want him to be with me for the rest of my life. I don’t know if he feels the same”.

“He totally does”.

“Yeah. No doubt about that. Just look at how he looks at you. What are you even waiting for?”.

“I don’t know, a signal?”.

“Of what? You’re impossible. Unless God themself comes down the sky and tells you textually just move in with him, you wouldn’t consider it a ‘signal’”, bitched Nat. But she was right. Commitment was not exactly your thing, even though you were as in love as you could be.

You heard an oncoming scream approaching the room. In silence, you three observed cautiously, and moved away from the middle. The screaming increased its loudness, until a body shattered the roof and fell to the floor violently. Loki laid still among the dusted debris until a second screaming started sounding from the sky.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, managing to get up quickly and making himself as a shield for you three. Thor landed on his feet over the same spot Loki had fallen. Dust flew everywhere and the floor cracked a bit more. “Don’t”, he alerted, pointing at his brother menacingly.

“I’m tired of your whinings, brother. Do something or I’ll do it myself”, spat Thor, grabbing Mjölnir and leaving the room. Loki sighed and sat on the couch, cleaning the remains with his magic. Wanda sighed and put it all back together.

“And what was that about?”, asked Nat, eating a candybar, still on the same spot as earlier. It wasn’t an unusual scene.

“I…”, said Loki, but desisted. You sat on the couch by his side and he laid, using your lap as a pillow. You took out a tissue and started carefully cleaning the blood off his cuts. He smiled softly. “We just had a fight”.

“I can see that. What did you fight about?”.

“He wants me to… well, talk to you”, he struggled to say.

“Well, we’re talking now”.

“Yes. No, wait, no. Like, talk talk”, he clarified, and Nat and Wanda nodded, leaving the room. You could still hear their chattery from the door.

Loki sat up and grabbed both of your hands, making direct eye contact. He was nervous, which only made you even more unsettled. He was never nervous. He was always calm, even in life or death situations. He was unfazed in everything and with almost everyone. Almost.

“What do you want to talk talk about?”, you joked, and he chuckled, releasing some tension.

“I want you to move in with me”.

“Oh. Wait. What?”.

“Like, move out. But with me”.

“To your room?”.

“Out of the Compound”.

“To an apartment?”.

“Yes”.

“Here?”.

“In Midgard, yes”.

“But like, in New York?”.

“Wherever you want, actually”.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and Loki grew nervous again. You couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… a God just fell down the sky and told me to move in with you”, you clarified, which didn’t actually clarify anything.

“You… what?”.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, love”.

And in no time you were already packing things up and going together on apartment huntings.

Tony insisted on helping you out himself, which was hilarious, given the repulsion he had for the idea in the first place. So, you’d go to an apartment by yourself, check it out and talk to the owner for a bit; Loki would arrive later, tensing things up (the owners would usually recognize him, but after a little chat they’d find out he’s a fine man), and then, just after you’d be all calm and good, the owners would see in the papers you’re a Stark, and tense up even more. Easier to say, it wasn’t a normal neighborhood chat.

You had finally decided on a small but very cozy apartment near Central Park; far enough from the Stark Tower, but you could get there pretty quickly for every mission.

You found the place advertised on the papers, and when you showed it to Loki, in sickness and all, you insisted on going to visit it that same day.

“My love, my dearest… you need to rest. I’m afraid you might faint again”, he cooed, trying to get you back to bed.

“A little fever won’t do anything to me, really, I’m f…”, you said, but you felt like vomiting, so you stopped your words and sat on the floor. Loki sat by your side and rubbed your back.

“If you feel better tomorrow, we go, yes? Now, come on, I’m gonna call Banner and you wait on your bed”.

“No, but they might take it, we need to go to make sure…”.

“What about I go, call you on one of those animated images, and you can see it from here?”, he proposed, helping you up. He meant a video call.

“That… sounds about right”.

But you had no actual time to have that video call, for when he was in the apartment, Banner was delivering some more important news.

You’ve been to the examination’s room of the compound before. But this time it seemed brighter. The lights shone so strongly, you had to close your eyes a little.

“What would you like to do about it?”, asked Banner. You were sobbing and trembling.

“I… I don’t know, I’m sure Loki will leave me”.

“What? No, don’t base your decision on that guy’s opinion”.

“Well, I don’t want the kid to not have a father, you know?”, you said as he gave you a tissue. “I want to have it, I’ve always wanted a kid. I think I’m… ready? I’m probably not. Not by myself, and I can’t do this alone. He’ll leave me, won’t he? Why would he want to have a kid with a mortal? We’d die as fast as he blinks”.

“Look, I’m no one to talk about it, but this sounds more like your anxiety and less like something he would do. He really loves you, he has for like at least a year, and I don’t see that going away anytime soon”.

“I know. You might be right”.

“You’re allowed to doubt everything. This is a huge thing, y/n. Think this through, talk to people, talk to your friends, or your parents. Don’t let this eat you”.

“Thanks, Bruce. You’re really… you’re being really nice, I appreciate it”, you sobbed. He handed you another tissue as he rubbed your shoulder.

“This is your call, okay? You have time to think. Text me later how you’re feeling, and have bed rest now. And if you feel too bad, take this”, he handed you some pills, “it should be innocuous for the baby”.

One of those days, that same week, you had decided to make it the official moving day. So, you put every box in the van and drove through the city, to your new home. You haven’t told Loki yet what you knew, and you were terrified he’d get even more upset because you didn’t tell him before the moving. But, to be fair, you didn’t think he’d actually leave.

You had told no one about it, despite Banner’s indications. But it wasn’t eating you. You were enjoying it silently. You were glad; you had your doubts, fears… Hell, you were terrified. But you knew, if Loki wasn’t going to be a part of that, you could do it yourself. You hoped he’d wanted to, though.

Loki and you had started taking the boxes inside, all by hand (to be honest, he was a little scared of the neighbours watching him do things with magic and kicking you two out). You laughed through it, and played races to see who’d finish their boxes first. He was wearing one of those midgardians shirts and pants that melted you completely. He wore that for your anniversary dinner the week before that day, and he noticed how much you loved it on him, so he started wearing fancy casual clothes more often than not.

After about two hours, you were done and completely exhausted. You laid in the middle of the wooden floor, surrounded by boxes and a strong smell of floorwax and fresh paint, and looked at each other fondly.

“Welcome home”, you said, and he showed you the biggest smile he’s ever done.

“I think this place is perfect. It’s away, but not exactly far from your family for whenever you’d want to be with them”.

“Yes, it’s perfect”, you said, getting up and helping him up. “You know, I have a surprise for you”.

“Really? What is it?”.

“Tonight at dinner, shall we? In the meantime, what about we get something to drink before unpacking?”.

“Can’t wait for tonight, then. Would you like some tea?”, he said, surrounding your waist with his arms. You played gently with his hair.

“Yes”.

“I love you”, he said, giving you a small peck over your smile.

“And I love…”, you started saying, but the entrance got filled with noisy people, interrupting you. Four of your friends were already filling the place, giving you an idea of how a small party would fit in there. “... you”.

“Oh my God! This place is so well illuminated!”, said Wanda, marveled.

“And what’s that smell? Have you been cooking something weird?”, said Nat, less enthusiastic, but equally curious. Sam and Bucky were still on the door, and Sam seemed to have brought food. Like a cake, or something similar. Wanda and Natasha were quick to invade the place without further notice.

“Oh, you got one of those hidden drawers! What are you hiding in there?”.

“Probably sex toys”, guessed Nat.

“I’d say drugs. But, like, alien drugs. You know, from his town”, apported Bucky, now making his way in and leaving the cake over the counter.

“I thought drawers were supposed to be for clothes”, said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but hidden drawers? Sexy clothes”.

“Actually, I’m saving my daggers in there”, finally said Loki, kissing your cheek before pulling away from you, and appearing a cup of tea in each guest with a movement of his wrist.

“Boring”.

“So, guys, what do you think?”, you said as you started opening one of the boxes.

“I think it’s small”, said Tony, as he walked in. Pepper rolled her eyes behind him.

“Don’t listen to him, you guys chose perfectly. This place will look very nice once you paint it and decorate it”.

“It’s already painted”.

“Oh. Well, it… it looks nice”.

“Thanks mom”, you chuckled. “It’s small but we don’t need it to be big”.

“You better be actually saving daggers in here”, Tony peeped inside the hidden drawer. “Now that is not so hidden. I wouldn’t like to open it up someday and find a…”.

“Dad, please”, you rolled your eyes and went to Loki’s side. “Don’t worry, you won’t find anything weird. Just the daggers and knives of my very innocent boyfriend”.

“Well, you’ll have to think further about having knives so close to the floor, you know”, he muttered. Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“Why?”.

Tony ignored him and walked to you earnestly, with the most serious face expression you’ve ever seen, and everyone observed quietly. He grabbed you by the shoulders, and inhaled a deep breath. All of the sudden, his eyes got watery, and you realized Banner had told him about the pregnancy. Your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint again, right there. The corners of his lips formed a tiny smile, and he hugged you tightly. Loki was certainly confused now. As far as he knew, Tony didn’t like him, and why would he be so happy about you moving out? It’s not like you were his only child, either.

“I’m so proud of you”, he whispered, and then Loki had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the new apartment, but didn’t ask any further.

That night you managed to cook something special, even though you still hadn’t gotten the gas installed. You cooked together, and laughed at every minor inconvenience the house could give you. The doors of the countertop cabinets were the perfect height for Loki’s 6’4” ass to stump his head every time he tried to open it.

After some time of silent cooking, absorbed on each’s thoughts, Loki asked about your dad’s pride.

“Oh, he’s… well, he just, gets very emotional with these things”. He chuckled at your very obvious lie.

“No, he doesn’t. Certainly not with me”.

“Come on, he likes you now. He likes anyone I love, because you make me happy, and because he has no other choice”.

“Well… I thought he’d be less amused”, he admitted. “Hasn’t he? Other choice, I mean”.

“I don’t think so. He’d have to deal. Family is family”.

“Oh, do I know about that”, he said, cutting a carrot more strongly than before. You laughed.

“I meant it in a good way”.

“Well, your family is one thing, mine is another… I can’t push yours to like me, as much as I would like to. They’re very nice, and I wish I had a family like that, but I don’t”.

“Love, family is built”, you said, this time a little more serious. He repressed a smile, still looking at the vegetables. “You’re part of this, too, you know?”.

“Of this?”.

“You’re family”.

He didn’t repress the smile this time.

“You’re right. You’re my family, too, my love”.

“You…”, you took a deep breath. It was the perfect moment. “Do you ever imagine us in the future?”.

“Why yes, of course”.

“Really?”.

“I want to spend all your life with you. I didn’t want to rush into things because… I don’t know, scaring you out of anything, but I…”, he said, and the alarm on your phone went off, to take the rice from the fridge. You two laughed at how mundane this conversation seemed. “But I love you, and I want you by my side”.

“Okay. Well I do too. That’s good, right? That’s good”.

“Yes, of course it’s good, why so doubtful?”, he laughed, grabbing a tomato and stabbing it.

“Because I’m pregnant”.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, without actually realizing what you just said. And then, he fell. “Hold on, what did you just say?”.

“I’m… I’m having a baby. Yours, of course”, you clarified. You felt like you had to, but it wasn’t actually necessary. Silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh dear” he paused. He left the knife over the counter and looked at you, looking for any trace of a joke. You weren’t joking, and you grew nervous as he let time pass by without saying a word. “How could you not tell me this before moving in?”, he muttered, still in a bit of a shock.

“Oh. Well… I…”.

“I wouldn’t have let you carry those heavy boxes, love, I’m so sorry”, he said, and cupped your cheeks. “Are you really…?”. You sighed in relief. For a moment you thought of the worse.

“Yes, I am”.

His arms embraced you completely, hugging you as tight as he allowed himself to. He muttered how much he loved you, and how happy you had just made him, for the rest of his life.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, he cuddled you from behind with his hands on your tummy and his lips on your bare shoulder. You could feel his soft breathing grazing your skin, and his warmth keeping you safe.

“Loki”, you whispered, checking if he was still awake. You couldn’t sleep.

“Yes, love?”, he whispered back.

“Are you sure you want to be a daddy? With me?”.

He turned you around, and lowered his head to your abdomen. He sank his face and kissed all around your stomach and hips, leaving a trace of kisses up to your neck, and then your lips.

“How could I not?”, he whispered in a low voice. Burying his nose in the crook of your neck, teased “besides, the word daddy comes out so well from your lips”.

You laughed softly, and after some more silence that was fairly filled with loving stares, a thought crossed his head and you saw the light of his eyes turn to dark.

“What is it, love?”, you put a strand of his hair behind an ear.

“I… I’m just realizing something bad”, he said, and you nodded. “I’m a Frost Giant”.

“Why is it bad?”.

“My actual form is bigger than this. And… colder. And if the baby were Jötun too...”.

“You think the baby might hurt me?”.

“They might. I don’t know. Oh no, what if they hurts you?”, he began to panic, and you shushed him, kissing his temples.

“Don’t worry, Lokes. If that’s the case, we’ll figure it out”, you reassured him. “And maybe it’s not. And we’ll have a little and very healthy half-Jötun running around this small apartment. When have we not solved our issues? We’re good at that bit”.

“You’re right. You’re right, my dear”. He sighed, and then chuckled. “Should we have gotten a bigger place?”.

“We’ll be a very close family”, you laughed.

“We already are”, he whispered, cuddling back to you. “We are a very close family”.

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki odinson #loki fic #lucywrites19 #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x y/n stark

291 notes · View notes

unrequitedloveletter · 3 years

Text

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities.

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue.

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise.

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.”

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry.

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down.

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it.

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours.

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.”

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.”

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying.

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.”

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed.

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!”

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky.

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to.

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive.

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field.

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish.

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance.

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable.

O N E Y E A R L A T E R

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world.

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.”

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.”

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces.

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya.

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot.

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover.

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.”

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?”

“Certainly.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #platonic inej ghafa x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #waffles

251 notes · View notes

ilovebokutokoutaro · 3 years

Text

Ruptured.

Gojo x reader

Warnings: cheating. alcohol. Major character death. Self harm. Blood. Not proofread. Tiny bit of nfsw too ig.

Overview: gojo realising how much he loved you too late.

Again and again and again. He has done this so many times that you couldn't cry anymore, couldn't feel anything anymore. You were like a hollow shell being used for his pleasure.

He said he loved you tho, he did.... didn't he? Oh yes, he did. He loved you so much that every night he'd spend fucking a girl while you waited for him, worried out of your mind.

"I'm the strongest" was all he said when you tried to explain all the worries bundled up in your chest. The sly smile. The smell of bright perfumes, the lipstic stains around his clothes, hickeys on his chest, scratches covering his upper body. It was enough to prove he wasn't fighting curses while you stayed up all the nights waiting for him.

And then he'd come back. Hold you up in his arms after a fresh bath. Kiss you, tickle you, love you like he wasn't going behind you every night. "I love you" he lied so beautifully that you had no choice but to stay.

You were weak, pathetic, your friends would send you pictures of him kissing other girls in the clubs and you would simply refuse to believe it was him. As if you didn't remember his beautiful white hair, his face proportions, his clothes, his everything like the back of your hand.

"i love you" he'd pant as he pushed himself inside you deeper making you cry. Your hands clenched the sheets like your life depended on it. He rutted inside you praising you, telling you how beautiful you were, how you felt so good against him, how much he loved you.

You couldn't hold the tears back, you didn't know if it was from the way your body shuddered against him in pleasure or because of the stinging pain filling your chest as the images your friends sent you flashed inside Your brain.

He'd clean you up later, hold you so gently you couldn't help but melt. "You love me right? Toru?" You'd ask, your voice strained from crying and screaming his name as you laid in his arms.

"i do baby. So much." He answered and you smiled. Letting him fall asleep in your arms before you slid past him. Getting up from the bed as you slipped his huge shirt over your small frame.

His shirt coming down just above your knees, he was a 190 cm long man what else did you expect? You could never sleep knowing you were probably not the only one he praised.

And that day proved it.

You walked around the streets with your hands clenching your phone. "You've to come here y/n, please. I can't let you keep blinding yourself, you need to come here y/n, please" you remembered your friend begging against the speaker.

You knew what it was about. She has sent you multiple photos and videos of satoru hooking up with other girls but you'd refuse to believe. He said he loved you....afterall.

"y/n look I'm sorry but I can't see you breaking yourself like that" your friend cried grasping your wrist in hers as she dragged you inside the club. You scrunched your nose. Disgusted by the smell of cigarettes and alcohol that filled the room.

You let her drag you away as you smiled, you knew it was going to be over today. You couldn't convince them it was not him anymore, you couldn't convince yourself he wasn't fucking other girls anymore.

You saw him, his arms holding the girl up. As she pushed herself on him moaning in his mouth. "Fuck you look so beautiful like this" he growled softly but you could hear it against all the loud screeching sounds that filled the club.

"you look so-" and he stopped when he saw your tiny figure staring up at him. You were smiling and it hurt him more. He didn't feel this scared ever. He....he was the strongest afterall.

His voice stuck in his throat as he stared at you with widened eyes. He dropped the girl down as he groaned pushing through the crowd to reach you.

You turned you heels back, walking away with light pats from your heels against the floor. You were smiling but your eyes said otherwise. Tears spilling down your eyes uncontrollably. "Y/n" you heard him cry out but you didn't stop.

You didn't realise how far out you've come before you looked up to realise there was no one around you. Standing on a lonely street. You stood there as you heard him calling your name. His footsteps getting louder and louder before you felt someone pull you by your arm.

He thought you'd resist so the amount of force he applied made you harshly bump into his chest almost loosing your balance but he held you up.

"y/n" he choked back on tears when he saw your face. He loved you, and today was the only day he realised, right before he'd loose you....maybe forever. He fell down on his knees. His hands coming up to hold yours as he cried. "I'm sorry baby I'm so sorry please don't leave me" was all he repeated over and over again.

Your smile failed. Your lips quivering as a frown painted your face tears now flowing more evidently. "Y/n..." He sighed trying to hold back his sobs and you broke down, your knees giving up on you as he held you right before you could make contact with the floor.

His eyes widened as he saw you sobbing so loud. He had destroyed you so much.....so much. "Was i not enough?!" You cried your eyes shut tightly. "You were baby. You were wayyy more than enough." He cried cupping your face. "THEN WHY?!" You screamed your eyes shot open and his breathe hitched. He did not know why. Maybe because he never realised how much he loved you untill today.

"I'm sorry" he said again and with that you stood up walking back without a single glance. He did not follow you. He knew he didn't deserve to.

"Y/N" he screamed as he hastily entered the building your tiny apartment lied in. It was covered in a thick black vail. Curses roaming everywhere as he used his powers to get to your apartment. There were blood everywhere. But most of the people who lived in the building were saved. Everyone was except you who failed.

He panted as he broke the door to your apartment. Hastily searching every room. "Y/n" he screamed again. Maybe you'd reply, no you will reply. you had to be alive.

And that's when all his hopes came crashing down. There you lied in the bathroom. Your beautiful dress covered in blood. He saw as a tiny curse looked at you, tilting it's head back and forth. He killed the curse in an instant before rushing over to you.

To his surprise there was no injury on your body except a deep cut against your wrist filled with tiny scars of what looked like cuts that were done way before. And it hit him. You had killed yourself and not the curses, or you can say he had killed you not the curses. that's why you were the only one left around the building. The scars looked old as his breathe stuck in his throat. "How did i fail to notice?" He scolded himself.

You were limp against his arms and no matter how much he tried you wouldn't answer. he heard a deep yell of his name in nanami's voice as he entered the apartment. Satoru did nothing but hold you close to him. He leaned against the wall. Your body resting against him. He didn't cry he couldn't cry as he buried his face in your neck. "Go-" nanami stopped as he saw you lying in gojo's arm. They both said nothing but nanami was an observant man. He could tell a lot and he did know about the GOJOU SATORU'S GIRLFRIEND who the said strongest jujutsu sorcerer had been cheating on.

It didn't take him long to figure out you weren't killed by curses and he sighed.

Till this day gojo looked at himself and wondered maybe, just maybe if he realised how much he loved you a bit sooner things would've been way different than they are now. "I love you" he whispered as he rested the flowers against your grave. "Been 6 years sweetheart, I'm so sorry" he whispered again before resting his head against the stone of the grave. He felt as if he was laying on your lap as you twirled your hands in his hair and for the first time after 6 years a tear slipped past his eyes.

#gojo angst #gojo imagine #gojou satoru icons #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #angtsy

314 notes · View notes

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25

Y/n puts an end to everything.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)

Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.

You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.

She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.

"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."

You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.

"What is Chase making you do?"

"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"

She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.

"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.

"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.

The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."

"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.

"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.

You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.

The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.

You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.

"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.

The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.

"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.

To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.

He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.

The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.

"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.

Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.

"Sorry about the mess."

Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.

You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open.

You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint.

You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open.

“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.”

You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation.

He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically.

“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?”

Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.”

You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you.

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.

You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?”

“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.”

“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.”

Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"

"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"

"She sure does." You smirked.

Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."

"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"

It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.

You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.

"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."

"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."

He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."

"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."

"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."

"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.

"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"

"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.

"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."

"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."

"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."

"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."

Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."

"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."

Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"

"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."

Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"

"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."

"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."

You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.

"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."

He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."

"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."

Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."

You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.

You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.

Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.

The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.

"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.

He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.

He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.

Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.

You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.

Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.

With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.

Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.

"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.

"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."

Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.

You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.

Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."

You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.

You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.

"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.

"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."

Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #the sommelier #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x reader #hannibal x will #tw violence #tw grape without the g #tw sex abuse #tw sex trafficking #tw christianity

124 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (17)

word count; 8202

summary; after a dangerous call, neither of you can handle the waiting around anymore, and everything finally bubbles over.

notes; you’re welcome.

warnings; descriptive injury, reference to death, reference to arson, minor character injury.

“Holy fucking shit, I know they prepared us for this stuff with all those drills and what have you, but I never expected this.”

You smacked at Newt’s arm roughly, covering your face as you stared up at the building, smoke curling up from the top of the building, and scared students were all gathering on the grasses and the tennis courts, filtering out of the buildings and lining up, and it was eerily quiet. The usual fires you attended were loud, screaming and shouting of worried relatives as chatter went up, and big ones like this had news cameras and reporters gathering around, hounding victims for interviews and information.

This time, it was unsettlingly calm.

The kids had all followed routine, lined up with their teachers, each of whom were going along with attendance records, checking off the kids that had arrived and making sure they were where they were supposed to be, while tickling names off. Only the gentle voices of teachers talking in low tones to their classes could be heard instead of the usual clamouring, and you could still hear the alarms of the school’s fire alarms from inside as they rang.

Glowing flames licked up into the sky, windows shattering as glass got too hot and the smoke was black as possessions burned. Kids were crying, and at the gates were camera flashes and news team, all of whom held back out of earshot as they weren’t allowed to film the children, kept back from school property, and it was a blessing you were thankful for, because they would have been overwhelmed. You let out a slow breath, three other ambulances all pulling up, and you swallowed thickly while staring at the burning remnants of a once productive high school.

Even if they weren’t injured, you’d be required to check every kid here, and you were grateful for the assistance of other paramedics. They were already beginning to shift their equipment, setting up with tables and chairs that staff were carrying out from a sports hall storage room that wasn’t connected to the main building, safe from the flames and creating a makeshift triage bay.

Even just as you looked around, there were hundreds of kids that you and Newt would have to sort through alone. The firemen were buzzing around behind you, undoing rolls of hoses and taking them to the nearest hydrants, trying to come up with some kind of game plan, and you stared up at the building, nothing but pure confusion and empathy for the terror these students must be feeling.

“There’s gotta’ be, like, two thousand kids here.” You mumbled, cupping a hand over your eyes to look up at the glare, and your body sank a little.

“Yep, and you get to pick a piece of paper, choose your year group.” You jumped slightly, an unfamiliar voice, and your eyes found a similar uniform to your own, stretched over broad shoulders of a man who was a lot taller than you were, hair pulled back neatly behind his head in a ponytail, tattoos peeking out from under the collar of his shirt, and a beard neatly tucked away underneath his chin. “I’m Arthur, firehouse ‘46, and I’m apparently the one in charge of dividing up all the classes.”

“Is it too much to hope we get the freshmen?” You chuckled, taking a piece of the folded paper from his hands as he tried to keep it fair, and a deep chuckle vibrated through him as he nodded.

“Unfortunately, it would be, because my partner already picked that one out for us. No favouritism, I swear, just luck.”

“I’d challenge you on that, but your fist looks like it’s about the size of my head, so you’d probably win that fight.” He let out a louder laugh at that, raising a brow as you opened the piece of paper, his messy handwriting illegible for a second, and you studied it, before he was letting out a low whistle. “Juniors. Tough break.”

Newt let out a groan, what was arguably going to be the rowdiest and loudest group, protesting the most and kicking up a fuss, and you shrugged, accepting his final pitiful smile before he moved on. Newt watched him go, eyes scanning along him slowly for a second, before you clicked your fingers at him. “Hey, you just fixed things with your boyfriend! You gave me shit for being friendly with other firefighters, stop checking out other paramedics!”

“I wasn’t checking him out!” Newt gasped, cheeks tinting pink. “I was just looking, I guess. He’s not my type, I don’t want them too tall, it makes me feel tiny. I hate that. I want to be pushed up against the wall, not thrown around like a rag-doll. Too much muscle.” You glanced at him again, noting what he meant, because the man did look like he spent every free minute he had at the gym, and you shrugged.

Your eyes wandered then, you couldn't help it, flickering over the others around you before finding your team. The Truck team were all reporting to Thomas, no step-in lieutenant having arrived in Gally’s place yet, and didn’t like the idea of being a firefighter down on your team. He seemed to be coping through, giving out orders to a team twice the size, each breaking away in the usual pairs he made as they divided off to complete tasks.

Around the entrance to your ambulance, two tables had been set up, one on each side and a third one across them, forms being laid out in stacks with pens, each to be filled out by a student and held with them to take home, ones you’d have to sign every time to show you dismissed them, and you flexed your fingers, already anticipating the ache that would come.

The lines were beginning to shift again, teaching staff arriving with their lines of students, waiting to be told what to do, and you shared a look with Newt, before diving right into it. Splitting off the classes, you sat down behind one table, kids slowly filling out each form and coming to sit with you, letting you do initial checks across their eyes, their pulse and their reaction times, before signing each form.

Some were a little more injured, with small cuts and grazes, jostling in the halls knocking them around or to the floor, and you had quite a few bumped heads. Some had worse smoke inhalation, and some had been closer to the initial blast. Those were the worst ones, the ones with head injuries that were filling up the chairs laid out to wait for parents, and you had to not only sign your name on their forms but fill out medical information cards for them, ready to be sent to the hospital, and only an hour in, you felt like your hand was going to drop off. You’d scarcely made it to the other side off half of the kids, watching them all slowly being collected by crying and fearful parents, let in at the gates to find their kids, when you found out what had happened.

The gas taps in the science labs had exploded, a leaky seal that hadn't closed off and a bunsen burner that was too close to the leak. The science experiment gone wrong had sent flames bursting through all the labs along the floor, and you had to choke back bile when the kids who’d been sitting closer to the flames had come in.

They were shaking, sobbing tears and blood from burned skin that still smelled of gas. Melted plastic on smart uniform ties and burned clothing that still looks smokey. Ash was beginning to fall from the sky, blowing in your direction from the wind, some still glowing until it reached the ground, and they were all trembling from the trauma just at the remnants of it. You didn’t blame them.

The kid coming forwards next was shaky, an empty form clutched carefully in his hands as he handed it over, and you scribbled your name on it, looking up at him with a raised brow. “You know you gotta’ fill this out, right? I can’t let you leave until you have.”

“I know.” He whispered, the hands that were clenched under the table being lifted after a moment's hesitation, and he held his palms out, open hand facing you, backs pressed to the table. “I would but it hurt, I tried.”

You could see the etched strains of dotted ink at the top, your eyes wide as you took in the damage to his hands. He seemed alright everywhere else; a little red along parts of his skin where he’d gotten too close to some flames, but other than that, nothing too bad, but the damage to his palms was extensive. Blackened skin was charred and burned, bleeding and red flesh exposed underneath and raw to the cold air and you imagined it would be agony, the injuries travelling all the way to his wrists. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I, um, my hands got burned when I was trying to get out.”

I can see that, kid, but how?” You were filling in the form yourself, scribbling down the notes you could do yourself, and letting him substitute his name, date of birth and class number as you reached those sections, pen moving quickly over the paper as you waited for a reason. “I can't let you go until you tell me.”

“A door got stuck. I had to push it open.”

“How stuck was this door, because these aren’t the kind of burns that happen with quick movements, this took prolonged exposure.” He squirmed in his seat, avoiding your eye, and you gave in. Beside you, scattered around on your table and in the ambulance were the contents of your medkit, and the drawers, all running low on supplies as you’d tended to many injured kids, and you shook your head at his reluctance to speak. “Alright, fine, we’ll wait it out. Any allergies?”

He shook his head, chin wobbling a bit, and you handed his form back over to him, a neat crease down the middle where it was folded in half, and he held his hands out for you upon request. His face screwed up at the sting of the antiseptic spray, soft warnings on murmured apologies on your lips as you sterilised the wounds, before beginning to wrap them with aloe and cream soaked bandages. He shed several tears during the process, twisting to wipe his face on his shoulder as you patched up the first hand.

“Ready to talk, yet?”

He looked up at you again, shaking his head slowly after a second, and you let out a disappointed sigh that you hoped might make him cave, but he held strong. You worked on the other hand, wrapping the medicinal bandages slowly and carefully over his skin, weaving between his fingers and around his thumb, making sure to cover all of the exposed flesh right down to his thumb, before tucking it in carefully and sealing them with tape.

“You can go and wait over on those chairs until you’re ready to fess up, and you’re gonna’ have to go to the hospital for real treatment.” You nodded to one of the teachers as he went, head hung low and sulking as he walked away, before you turned to the next kid.

This one was worse, the same burns but these ones travelled halfway up his forearms, another empty sheet placed down in front of you, before he too was glancing at the last kid with burned hands, and your eyes narrowed on the two. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got stuck, behind a-”

“A closed door? Is that what you're about to say?” A guilty look flashed over the second boy’s features, wide-eyed as he swallowed the lump formed in his throat, and he nodded. “That’s total bullshit. I don’t know what the two of you have been up to, but you don’t think I know what causes burns when I see them? I work in a firehouse, my firemen get burned up all the time, and this isn’t what happens when you push open a burning door. This is what happens when you hold onto something hot for a long time.”

He didn’t say anything, he just held out his hands, hissing in pain but managing to blink away his tears, unlike his friend, when you began to treat his wounds. The more severe they were, the more supplies you required, and you opted to dab the aloe gel and burn cream mix up to his elbows on each hand with a cotton pad, gentle not to let the tips of your fingers drag on open flesh as dry rubber from your gloves irritated the wounds.

“You need to tell me what happened, because I can’t let you go when you’ve got burns like this. You know it’s criminal evidence, right? If you don’t fess up and tell me the truth, you’ll have to tell it to the police. Why didn’t your teachers bring you forwards first if you had these kinds of injuries?”

“Because we weren’t in class.” He eventually whispered, and now the tears flowed, something inside of him seeming to crack wide open as hot tears flowed, the kid breaking down before you in a sob. You were wrapping his second arm carefully by the time he managed to catch his breath, his reaction shocking you a little, you didn’t want to make the kid cry with your threat of talking to the police, you just wanted to know what would happen. “We didn’t do this, I swear! We weren’t involved!”

“I know that, this was a freak accident, we already know that much, but you can tell me what happened.” Once you were finished, you took a seat before him, taking off blood and ointment stained gloves and throwing them in the bin bag you and Newt were rapidly filling up. As you did, you noticed Newt treating a kid with much the same injuries, your eyes narrowing a little on them for a second, before you sat down, picking up your pen and beginning to fill in the empty form. “We were skipping class.”

“All kids do that.” You chuckled, taking his name and date of birth as he worried his lower lip between his teeth, and just like that, all of a sudden, he was twisting to the side in his seat, retching violently onto the floor, as more tears began to flow. You abandoned the forms, rounding the edge of the table and the area around you where parents had been collecting their kids and teachers had been dismissing them suddenly fell silent, everybody turning to look over, and you rubbed his back gently, the contents of his stomach emptying.

When he was finished, he sat back up, trying to wipe at his mouth and wincing when he rubbed his mouth against his bandages by mistake, before lowering his hand. He slumped, seemingly drained of energy, eyes hooded a little, and you checked his pupils and his reactions again but they came out perfectly fine, and so this reaction wasn’t related to any injuries. “There were four of us.”

“Four of you?”

“Yeah, four of us skipped class.” You glanced around, noting only three with burned hands as Newt dismissed his kid to join your first, and a chilling feeling settled like a pit in your stomach. “We were in the theatre rooms, they’re below the science floors. We were messing around, and Ian went to the toilets in the corridors. When the explosion went off, the floor started to collapse, and a beam went over the door.”

You hated that you already knew where it was going, and your eyes impossibly wide as you glanced around, trying to find the yellow stripes of any fireman you knew to be free from your house, or any house, but they were all busy and out of view.

“The beam caught fire, and we tried so hard to move it, we tried but it hurt so much, and there was so much smoke and it got so hot, and we couldn't do it anymore. We had to go, we tried so hard but we had to go!” He was borderline hysterical, stuttering over his words as he cried, before he was gagging again, and you stepped out of the way, just avoiding his upchuck as he emptied his stomach again, guilt and anxiety taking a physical reaction on him. You processed his words, before the heavy truth settled over you again.

“Oh my God, Newt, there’s a kid still trapped in there.”

“What?” Your partner whipped around in his seat, eyes wide, before looking to the kid still heaving, and the other two with matching injuries. “Go find someone on the team, I'll finish up here!”

You nodded, pausing for a second to look around, before catching sight of a few metallic strips glinting in the light not far from the Squad truck. You stumbled over your feet, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to get there. Rounding the edge of the red van, you found Winston sitting on the edge of the truck, door open, one foot on the floor by his helmet as the other was pulled up, his back pressed to the wall, and he was panting for breath, sweating as his mask lay beside him.

He cracked an eye open as he looked up at you, confusion taking over his face for a second, before concern was replacing it. “What’s up? Aren’t you dismissing kids?”

“There’s still a kiss trapped in there?”

“We did a sweep, everyone did, they checked every room and every floor, all the rooms.” You shook your head, hands shaking a little with your fear, and you felt the tremors spread over your body.

“No, no, there is someone.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and he sat up a little further. “There’s three kids, burns all over their hands and up their arms, because they were skipping class. They were right under the explosions, a kid was in one of the bathrooms and a beam fell over the door, they tried to move it but they couldn't, he’s trapped inside.”

“He’s been in there since this fucking happened? That was hours ago!” Despite his shock and disbelief, he was on his feet again, grabbing for his mask and his helmet, being the first one to finish his set of tasks clearly not coming much in handy, because he was going to be going back inside. “Where was he?”

“Uh, they said they were near the drama and theatre halls.” He nodded his head, hooking his mask back up to his oxygen tank as he pulled it up and adjusted the straps on his shoulders. “Winston, I gotta’ go with you.”

“No way, it’s falling apart in there.”

“I know, but you said it yourself, it’s been hours. That kid is gonna’ need immediate first aid, and how much first aid do you know?” He looked conflicted, tapping his foot a little and glancing around, watching as a few more members of your team, as well as others, all began to emerge from different exits. There was only so much of the fire they could risk putting out, when the building was igniting faster than they could contain it, it would have to simply burn itself out. “C’mon, Winston. Just grab me gear and let's go.”

“Fine, but stick by my fucking side and don’t take a step away, okay?”

“I promise!” You nodded, and he opened up one of the spare lockers. You knew the drill, kicking off your shoes and grabbing the heatproof gear that was labelled in a silver tin with your name across the front in permanent marker. Tugging the pants up your legs as fast as you could, you sealed them at the waist, tying them tightly and grabbing your jacket. You buttoned it up, fingers shaking as you did, before kicking off your shoes, uncaring of where they landed.

Pulling on your boots, you knelt down to tie them, your med bag landing beside you as Winston had retrieved it, and he looked more than anxious as he stared at you, letting you tuck the laces into the edge of the shoes to hide them once they were tight. “You’re gonna’ have to carry your bag, because you need to wear a tank and mask.”

He shook the other objects in his hands, and you stood, turning around and guiding your arms through the straps as he held it out, your breath forced from your lungs as the heavy weight settled onto your back. Following it, he rested the mask over your face, the glass fogging up for a second as you took heavy breaths, clearing a second later when cool oxygen was twisted on and began to come through. He fixed his own mask, gloves and helmet following as you copied him, checking it was all sealed up tight around your skin, before grabbing your bag.

You always felt like an astronaut in this gear, big and puffy and baggy, like you were walking with added gravity following behind him in wide and shuffling steps as quickly as you could, nerves and fear riding more and more as you headed towards burning entrances. It was something you’d never get used to, the idea of walking straight into flames, of walking into a burning building, and you patted deftly across the front of your helmet to find your torch, turning it on as Winston did the same, and then, you were plunging into thick black smoke.

It was like something from a horror movie, you could see other firemen wandering around, their shadows as they tried to at least secure as much as they could as the fire ripped through the building, burning through whatever fuel it could, and none of them paid you any mind. Clutching your bag up to your chest, you kept your eyes fixed on Winston, not daring to take your eyes off of him in case you lost him, and he was following signs as he went, trying to find the downstairs floors of the drama and theatre.

Your steps left footprints in the ash that was lining the floor, each footstep padded to silence by the thick grey layer, like a breadcrumb trail as you went, and it was a guiding light that was brushed away seconds later with the air currents created by flames.

You knew it when you finally arrived, large amphitheatres and halls, Winston pausing as he tried to identify which way the toilets would be, and his head twisted as he looked from one end to the other.

“You check that side, I’ll check this one. Do not go out of yelling range or sight.”

You gave him a mock-salute, peeling off to the left when he went to the right, and you scanned along the walls for the doorways.

There was nothing, just places where posters had been on the walls, the smashed glass of photos or peel offs to more corridors, but no toilets or burned beams. Just as you reached the end of the hall, only one direction coming off of it in a short pathway, you noticed something. It was crumbled now, black and crumbled but it could definitely have once been a solid beam, and as you squinted through the smoke, you could just about make out a doorway.

“Winston! I think I got it!” You yelled as loud as you could, turning around to find him spinning to look at you, and you held an arm out in a point down a connected corridor. He took off in a jog, as fast as he could move in the heat and the layers of clothes, and while it took him only seconds to reach you, it felt like it dragged on and on, the emergency making everything seem too slow as you worried for the trapped kid’s well-being.

He stepped ahead first, pacing towards it, and you followed after him, a slightly relieved breath leaving you when you were close enough for your head torches to reflect on signs signalling for the toilets. Winston placed a hand on the beam as the two of you approached it, pressing down on it as best he could, and the beam groaned at the pressure, but despite the force he applied, it didn’t crack.

He held out an arm, pushing you back slightly as his hand went to the toolkit around his waist, and unhooking a small hand axe. He held it up, adjusting it carefully in his grip, before swinging it up high and bringing it back down. It dug in, getting stuck for a second, and a large splintering sound filled the air, but it didn’t break.

He tried again, and again, and your anxiety was almost ready to burst when it finally cracked, hitting the floor with a loud thud, and you jumped, wincing slightly at the sound. The half still attached to the ceiling fell down, bringing a little more of the ceiling down, and it all became unstable again. Pieces of the roof were crumbling away, crashing down in bundles of flames to the floor, but at least one problem was solved.

Putting away the axe, Winston kicked open the door, waiting to see if any fire would come out. There was fire crawling along the roof, but the tiled floors were clean, the room smoky and filled with ash but reasonably safe, and the two of you entered.

As promised, there he was, the fourth student was unconscious on the floor beside one of the sinks. You glanced around, noting the jacket he must have been wearing was soaked with water, lay over his face as he’d tried to breathe through it to stop too much smoke inhalation, and Winston glanced at you as you sunk to your knees.

“Smart kid, that move probably saved his life.” You peed it back, checking for any signs of breathing, and you found his vets to be rising and falling very slowly and weakly, barely taking in any oxygen at all. Lifting up the torch from your keyring, you raised an eyelid, bloodshot eyes encasing pupils that were hardly responsive, reactions that took over a second to come into focus, and barely moving.

Scanning along his arms, you noted the raw burns that were forming along his flesh, tugging your bag open quickly and grabbing for the aloe inside. If he was to be carried back through the building, you wanted to minimise any risk of his wounds getting any worse. You didn’t try to be delicate or gentle, you were rushing, knowing you had to put speed over gentleness now, and that you could treat them properly once you were back outside.

Twisting on down on the taps, not much water came through, dripping through the pipes, and you used your teeth to pull off one glove, daring to touch the water. It wasn’t exactly cold, the pipes underground being heated by the fires above, but it was cool enough, and you dropped piles of bandages down into the sink to begin to soak. Taking open the gel, you squeezed out thick rows of it onto his arms, using your bare hand to rub it in, trying to be fast as the skin on the back of your hand began to hurt. Once it was rubbed in, you began to pick up dripping bandages, not even bothering to ring them out, before sealing the cool wrapping around his arms as best you could to keep them secured.

As soon as they were on, you were pulling your glove back on, and rubbing at the back of your hand through the material to soothe the pain there.

“He needs oxygen, with reaction times like this, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

“I can give him my mask.”

Winston reached for his mask, and you shook your head. He was covered in burns, he was out cold, and there was no way he’d wake up anytime between now and the hospital, it at all. Despite being alive, you had no idea what the long-term effects would be on him, and you hoped for the best, but you knew there wasn’t much Winston could do without his mask. “You can’t, you’re gonna’ have to carry him out of here. He takes my mask.”

No way, I’m trained for this, you aren’t. You’ll choke up in here before getting back to the main corridors.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t exactly carry this kid. So, if we want to get him out of here alive, we’re just going to have to risk it.” You didn’t wait for his response, ignoring his protests as you took off your helmet, reaching behind your head for the elastics of the mask, and pulling them off. The second it was gone, your skin flared up at the rush of heat, and you took a gasping breath. Your lungs were searching for oxygen, the flames burning most of it away, and you were getting so little now that your pure source was gone.

Hooking the mask over the kid’s face, you took off your tank, holding it on your arms as Winston glared at you from behind the glass, crouching down to pick the boy up from the floor, and you placed the tank onto him too, waiting for Winston to adjust his grip before letting go of the pair. Putting your helmet back on, you tucked your hair under the collar of your jacket, protecting the back of your neck.

Zipping your bag back up and draping the damp hoodie over his head for added protection against the flames, you hid your face in your elbow, coughing against the smoke and trying to breathe lightly so as not to suck too much of it into your lungs.

“Follow me, keep up, okay? Don’t fall behind.”

There were worry and concern in his voice, friendly and desperate as he pleased with you, and you nodded your head. He turned, moving as quickly as he could as he left the bathrooms again, backing or of the door and back into the hallway. If you’d thought the bathroom had been bad, this was far worse, your eyes watering and lungs burning as soon as you stepped out. You kept one arm raised, simply to protect your face, your bag clenched under the other arm.

Winston was moving faster than you were, the lack of oxygen making you fall behind, but you could still seem him ahead, and you could see the large and fresh imprints of his bots in the ash before they were fading in the swirling storm of burning debris, following them once the smoke was too much for you to keep your eyes raised for too long. They were stinging, watering continuously to blink free dust that got in them, and your tears were almost absorbed right off of your face.

When you looked back up, daring to stare into the hallway, it was void of movement, all the firemen having cleared out as the smoke got thicker, burning through the insulation in the walls now. The corridors forked, and you paused, trying to remember which way you’d come. There was no daylight to guide you, no windows you could see through, just thick smoke lit up by orange flames, and you swallowed down on a sore throat coughing again as you grew more and more scared.

You had to move, you knew you did, and so you chose one option, knowing that moving in either way was better than simply standing still. Following it along, the further you went, the more and more unfamiliar it became, the minutes melting away as you stumbling along all the while knowing you’d chosen the wrong way. You found the wall, hand sitting on it lightly to help guide your way, and your fingers bumped against a raised section.

Pausing, you brushed the dust away, squinting to read what it said. There were several classroom guidances, and then something that made you want to cry with relief, even if it was the wrong direction. The gardens. You hadn't seen any gardens upon coming into the school grounds, and so you assumed you were on the other side of the building now, having stumbled along for so long you’d moved all that way, but as long as you got out, you’d be fine.

Following that guidance, you paused each time you found a sign, before finally, doors that had burned right off their hinges and had fallen off allowed a little sunlight to poke through the smoke.

Your feet scraped on the ground as you finally made it out, soft ash falling away to be replaced with concrete, and you wanted to fall to the ground, knees weak with bliss at escaping the building, but you forced yourself to keep going. You were gasping, throat raw as you took deep breaths, finally able to do so once again and you felt a little dizzy as your head spun at the sudden rush of fresh air.

You grabbed at the front of your jacket, sweltering in the thick material as you tugged on it until it came loose, flapping at the front and letting in cold air and you felt a little less restrained.

You stayed away from the building as you tried to walk around it, following the flashing lights on the ambulances until the place where you’d been stationed started to come into sight once again. It was clearer, only a few kids left milling around, the fire teams having retreated back to their vans, equipment being stripped off and water bottles handed out, and you searched for your own team.

You found them, all gathered around and starting at the entrance, even Winston and Newt, and you noticed that one of the ambulances was gone, presumably having rushed your reduced child to the hospital. They were waiting for you to emerge from the entrance you’d entered, all looking nervous, and Newt was the first to notice you coming around the other side.

As soon as he had, the group were turning to you, your body slumping a little more under your weight, and you staggered towards them. Newt found you first, taking your bag from your hands as you held it out to him, and offering him a tired smile as he shook his head fondly.

“You gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Newt, I swear.” He frowned for only a second longer, before his lips were breaking in a smile, and Brenda was up next. She took you into a tight hug, arms underneath the edge of your jacket, which Minho was peeling down your arms for you and taking away the added weight, and you thanked him silently with a nod as you wrapped your arms back around her. “Bren, I’m okay.”

“You think you’re a damn firefighter, I swear it!”

You laughed at that, throat a little raspy as it trailed off into a caught, and Newt chuckled. “Let’s get you some water, okay?”

“That sounds awesome.” You followed them over to the trucks, Newt jogging ahead to get you a bottle, and as soon as you arrived, you took it. You cracked the lid open taking a large gulp, and looking around for a second, before the person you were unintentionally searching for was found. He looked angry, a face like thunder as he stormed over, shoulders squared and tense with furrowed brows.

His steps had purpose, and the closer he got, the more you could take him in. Slightly dirty skin, sweaty and stained with soot and ash had tracks under his eyes cut into them from tears, the edges of his scowl wobbling as he looked still on the edges of jagged emotions, and you were filled with guilt. You met him halfway, mouth dropping to talk to him but he beat you to it, a sharp inhale before he is grabbing your arm, and dragging you between the two parked fire trucks as the rest of the firemen all seemed to clear away in fear of his anger.

“Are you fucking insane?” There was a crack to his voice that you didn’t comment on, giving away that his anger was actually fear, no rage at all but simply worry that you had caused, and you hated that you’d done it, but you wouldn't take your action back, not when you’d saved a life once again. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you’d let that boy die in there. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was? I come out after hours in that burning building to find you and check you’re okay just to find out you’ve gone into the fucking wreckage? To find out you took off your goddamn mask and got lost?”

His frown melted away, fresh tears filling his eyes, and he sniffed lightly, his face crumpling again as his tears came free. Two large droplets leaked along his cheeks, leaving wet marks, and your stomach twisted with guilt. You took off your gloves, dropping them down to the floor without a care to be able to cup his cheeks and wipe them away from his flushed skin as he stared at you. “I got stuck, Tommy. That’s it, I’m sorry, okay? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew that kid was in there and I let him die to save my own life.”

You sank down, every muscle in your body aching as you sat on the edge of the van, finally giving in to your exhaustion, and he let out a shaky and weak sob again. He followed, sinking to his knees in front of you, his entire body collapsing under the weight of his worry, but his eyes never left your own.

He lifted a bare hand, cupping your cheek the way you had for him a second ago, and his eyes moved as he swept his sights over your face, trying to take a more deep and calming breath. The simple skin to skin touch grounded him.

“Don’t make me lose you, too.” He whispered, a silent beg in his words not to leave him, and your heart cracked a little in your chest. “I know you’re mad at me right now, okay? You say you’re not but I know you are because I spent enough time with you mad when we first met to know what that looks like on you.”

You chuckled, his lips flicking up at the edges as you did.

“I can handle you being mad, though, okay? I can handle that, because I love you, but I can’t handle you dying. I can’t take that. Don’t do that to me, I need y-” Your hands smoothed over his chest, finding the edges of the jacket he had yet to shed and pulling him forwards. You bowed your head down to his level, cutting off his words by placing your lips on his, and he shuddered under your touch, groaning into your mouth as his mind caught up with what was happening.

He panted slightly, twisting his head to the side to get a better angle, and this was nothing like last night. He wasn’t shy or worried, he just poured out everything he felt, his lips working slowly but surely with your own, a desperation and need hidden underneath in the kiss that made you tremble, because it was nothing like you’d ever felt before. You didn’t feel the metal you were sitting on or the truck behind you, the voices of everyone still around seemed to face away, your entire focus shifting to only him.

He pressed up, kissing you just as firmly and gripping your jaw with a little more force. After a moment longer, lungs demanding air, he pulled back, long enough for a gasping breath and to lick over his lips. He forced himself to stand up on shaky legs, one hand on your waist pulling you with him, before he was pressing you back into the edge of the truck for support. The cold metal against your back was nothing with the way his chest pressed to you, drawing in his head as he held you so close, that hand sliding around your waist to pull you flush up against him.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, your nose bumping his as he stole several more pecks from your lips as the two of you caught your breath, and you puckered your lips for him each time, stuttering as his fingertips pressed into your skin through your shirt. “I know this isn’t how you wanted our real first kiss to go.”

“I so don’t care anymore. Just shut up and kiss me again, sweetheart.” He closed the gap himself, and you hummed happily as his tongue dragged over your lower lip, tempting you to part them, and you moaned weakly when his tongue dared to dip out and brush with your own. It was a connection you both needed, long overdue and frantic.

A messy kiss, clashes of teeth with need and raspy breaths between kisses, bumping foreheads when you moved but you'd have time to perfect it, but right now, you just needed to make the promises to each other that you were okay, and you were still here. When he finally pulled back, it was reluctantly, dragging slightly kiss swollen lips away from your own to stare at you, darkened eyes going soft the longer he looked, and he pulled away long enough to run the back of a finger over your cheek, a look that could only be described as adoration taking over. “I love you, and you don’t have to say it back, not until you really mean it, but I mean it and I want you to know. I want everyone to know, you’re always gonna’ be my first and only choice, angel.”

You grinned, a giggle that you muted by pressing your lips to his own in a chaste kiss, and when you pulled back, he followed your lips for a second, only furthering your intimate amusement.

“I’m never going to get tired of being able to kiss you now.”

“I should hope not.” He beamed, brushing the tip of his nose with your own, before stepping back fully, and bringing his hand to yours, weaving your fingers together. “Go sort out your team, lieutenant, they’ll be needing you to help pack away.”

“I’m sure they can wait a few more minutes, I’ve waited months to get here with you.”

“Yeah, well, you can have me all to yourself later. You still owe me pizza.” His joy only brightened more at the offer, his brows raising, and he was nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll stay over, and you can kiss me as much as you want.”

“I’d love that.” He pecked your lips one more time, a pink blush taking over his features as he realised he could now, before he was stepping back. “I’ll meet you back at the firehouse?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You whispered, and he turned away, giving you a second of privacy, lifting your fingers to brush over your lips, your mind still reeling as you attempted to process what had happened. A throat cleared a second later, and Newt was standing with his hands on his hips, head tilted toward the ambulance.

“I’m not putting all that shit away myself so you can daydream about kissing Tommy.” He scoffed, teasing you a little as he made his way over, and you couldn't help the smirk your lips were forming. “So, did he finally man up and kiss you? He's only been talking about it for months.”

“I kissed him, actually.” Newt’s jaw dropped, his hands shooting up in the air with a loud cheer to follow.

“I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it! Gally owes me twenty damn bucks, and I will collect.” He slung an arm over your shoulders, guiding you towards the ambulance that he needed help with beginning to pack away, and you shrugged, reaching up your hand to hold onto Newt’s as it hung over your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you were betting on us.”

“I was betting on you, I knew he would psych himself out, all my money was on you, love.” He offered a cheesy grin, pinching at your cheek, and you raised your brows.

“Well then, shouldn't I get half of the winnings? Since I helped you to victory, and all..” Newt let you go when you reached the van, the tables being folded away by the staff, but there were medical supplies piled high in the entrance to the ambulance, and you had to pack them all away correctly, and double-check over the doses of medicines, in such a high-risk area for theft.

“Tell you what, I’ll buy you a cocktail with half the winnings, if you come on a double date with me and Derek?” You chuckled, unsure whether or not he was serious, and an odd look passed over newt’s face, the blond scratching at his jaw and avoiding your eye.

“A double date, really?”

“Look, you already know Derek, you and he are friends. Good friends. Tommy has been my best mate since I was just a lad and always will be, and you’re my best friend too. I really like Derek, okay? I really like him, and I want him and Tommy to get along too, because they’re both so important to me, and I figure a double date makes it casual.” He shrugged, looking back up to you, curious for your opinion as his cheeks grew warm. “Is it stupid? I just felt like going out to dinner or something made for less tension than a baseball game and a pizza.”

“It’s not stupid, Newt. I’m totally down for it, sounds fun, but you’re gonna’ have to convince Thomas.” You teased, and your partner rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, I don’t gotta’ do shit if you’re on board. You have him wrapped around your little finger. You don’t even have to pucker up or bat your eyelashes, he’s already all soft on you.” Newt pouted, mocking you playfully with the words, and your guts twisted in a nervous excitement.

“I’ll talk to him about it, tomorrow morning.”

“Breakfast date?” He climbed up into the back of the van, beginning to scoop up the materials like bandages and plasters to put them away, and you started sorting through the bottles of medicine and pills that would need counting.

“Dinner date, actually.” Newt gasped falsely, holding a hand over his heart.

“Scandalous, staying over already.”

“You’re just jealous.” You shot back, his face dropping in a mock glare.

“Low blow.” He threw a roll of bandages at you, ones that bounced off of your head as you laughed at him, and rolled away to the concrete, and he pointed at them. “Go get them, and leave your attitude out there when you come back.”

You flipped him off, standing up to follow after the sealed bandages packet, and you scooped them up, glancing around the scene as two ambulances had already left, their house firetrucks following, and the third house was finishing their packing up. Brenda was packing away the coats into the van, hanging them up on the hooks inside the compartment to be washed and cleaned for later, and Minho was rolling the fire hoses back up with Jeff and Clint.

Thomas was rubbing a hand over his forehead, staring up at the building for a second, before turning, glancing around, and his eyes found yours. He paused for a second, one eye dropping in a lazy wink a moment later when he let Thomas crack through his lieutenant persona for a second, and he licked over his lips, stretching to a wide smile. He nodded his head for a second, a simple gesture but it felt like more than just that, and your lips pressed together to hold your smile, nodding your head in return, and letting your stare linger for a second longer, before going back to work.

Newt was waiting, still packing away and whistling a tune to himself as he worked, taking the bandages from you when you approached, and you hummed along in time with the tune once you recognised it enough, his eyes glinting when you did. It was an unspoken thing, a delicate symbol of friendship as the two of you worked in quiet harmony, humming along to the same song as you worked, settling in to a well worn and familiar routine that you hoped would never break.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #thomas the maze runner #ff!tommy #firefighter!tommy #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

173 notes · View notes