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not-neverland06 · 27 days

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How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I just want to thank you all for the love, support, and wonderful messages you’ve been sending me because of this series. Summary: You’ll never survive if you don’t learn to depend on yourself. But this world is harsher and crueler than you’re prepared for. Still, you can’t let that hold you back, you need to try and live without Cooper.

He shot up at the sound of a gunshot. It echoed through the trees, closer than he was comfortable with. Instinctively, he reached out to shake her awake, prepared to tell her to grab her shit and run. His hand hit nothing but air and he sighed when he remembered the way she’d stalked off.

He threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards her. He couldn’t see much until he rounded the tree, her bag was gone and so was she. Another shot rang out through the forest. He sighed and made his way back towards the fire. He grabbed a lit stick and used it to illuminate the forest floor to get a better look at the footprints around the area.

As far as he could tell no one else had passed through here while he’d been sleeping. So where the fuck was she? Another shot went off followed by the sound of her scream. “Fuck,” he ripped the gun out of his holster and followed the tracks as best he could.

The closer he got, the more it sounded like two wild animals fighting. She was cussing up a storm, screaming at whoever was trying to grab her. He still hadn’t managed to get a good luck at where she was. It seemed darker in this section of the forest, like it was purposefully trying to keep him from her.

There was the thud of a body hitting the ground and then someone was running. He could hear them trampling through the undergrowth going right past him. Someone was whimpering in pain and he instantly thought of her on the ground bleeding out. Without much aim he shot in the general direction of whoever had run off, he heard a yelp but they didn’t stop.

“You alright sweetheart?” He heard more than saw anything as she scrambled to her feet and ran off into the forest. “It’s only me!” He gave her a minute to realize she’d run from the wrong person before he figured that she knew exactly who she was running from. She must have still been pissed at him for what he'd said earlier. Rolling his eyes he tracked her limping gait through the steps in the mud.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck,” you whimpered, teeth digging painfully into your lip while you peeled your clothes away from the wound on your side. You slowed down, unable to stay on your feet with how quickly the blood was oozing out of the hole near your ribs. You slumped over, letting yourself fall against a tree and stripped off the top half of your clothes.

Your fingers pressed weakly against the hole and you let out a choked sob. Dammit, hurt like a fucking bitch. With shaking hands you dug blindly through the bag at your side. You’d lost most of your supplies in the fight but you were hoping the stimpak Cooper had given you earlier was still in here.

You weren’t sure exactly how these worked but he’d told you it would heal nearly everything. Though, he’d said if a wound was bad enough even a stimpak couldn’t bring you back from the edge. You were praying that this would work, but after the past few days you didn’t have much faith in your luck.

The injector shook in your hands and you knew if you didn’t use it soon you weren’t going to make it. Taking in a deep breath you slid the needle into the skin, as close to the wound as you could get it. You could feel holes on your back and front, you were grateful at least that you didn’t have to worry about trying to dig a bullet out.

You pressed down and let yourself sink back against the tree as medicine rushed through you. You ripped the injector once it felt like you’d gotten everything.

With nothing to occupy them your hands fell limply to the ground. You needed to get up, try and reorient yourself and make it to Filly. But you were so tired. You barely noticed the way the wound continued to pulse, the slow dribble of blood leaking onto your hands. All you could see were the stars, so many more than you were used to.

With no one left to pollute them, they were boundless. You let out a weak sigh and your eyes drifted shut. You thought of Cooper before it all went black. The way he was before, the way you were before.

It was too dark to really track much but he was sure he was getting close. He could hear her whimpering in pain and figured she’d slow down soon enough. She shuffled around like a wounded animal, graceless and stumbling.

He tried and justified this to himself, he needed her to deal with Ma June. Honestly, though, he knew he didn’t. He could just give up, set up camp again and wait for morning to come. She’s the one who decided she didn’t need him anymore. No fucking reason to keep going after her. She’d dug her own grave, it was time to let her lie in it.

Still, he kept going. He ignored the nagging voice that pushed him to stop and turn back around. He pushed anything down that wasn’t useful in the moment.

She should stop soon, she was just putting herself in more danger by continuing on like this. But, he figured she was pissed off and just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of needing his help. She had always been stubborn to a fault, he guesses even that hasn’t changed.

Though, if she wanted to make it out here she was going to need tougher skin. It didn’t matter if what he said was true or not. You can’t afford attachments out here.

The sooner she learned that the better.

There was a loud cry of pain and then he heard the sound of her keeling over against a tree. He grinned, ready to pounce on the opportunity to get on her about being so fucking stupid. “See, this is why you shouldn’t run!” He called out.

Something lit up the path ahead and he ducked behind a tree instinctively. He peered around the trunk and marked the direction the torches were coming from. They weren’t close enough to be a problem, not yet at least. If he was lucky it would just be some travelers. He might even be able to get some supplies off of them. If he wasn’t, it would be raiders.

Seeing as she seemed to be his own personal jinx, he figured they only had a few minutes until the raiders were on them. She wouldn’t be much use to him bleeding out. He strode over to her curled up form, she had a hand wrapped around her stomach and in the dark he could barely make out the blue of her uniform. “Come on, let’s go.” He nudged her with his boot but she didn’t move. She didn’t even make a sound. “Come on,” he tried again, kicking harder this time while he watched the torchlight get closer.

Angry, he knelt down and rolled her over. But the face staring up at him wasn’t hers, it was some fucking raider. Must have been whoever she was fighting with. Shit, that meant he’d shot her. Cooper rubbed his forehead in irritation. Nothing could ever be easy with her could it?

Footsteps sounded closer and Cooper knew his time had run out. Whoever this woman on the ground belonged to had come to collect. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Cooper’s hand moved to his holster and he looked up at them, a grin on his face, “Gentlemen.”

“Grab her legs. Come on, hurry up, don’t have all day!” Hands wrapped around your ankles and you jolted awake. You kicked out, eyes blind to anything but the memory of the raiders from before. The old woman at your feet jumped away from your weak attack and frowned down at you.

“Well, shit, she’s alive.”

An old man walked out from behind you. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He crouched down, groaning as his knees cracked in protest. He leaned towards you and you flinched back, eyes wide as you watched him reach out to you. His hand hovered your face and you braced yourself for an attack. He only poked you, though, frowning when you winced away from the prodding of your bruises. “I’ll be damned, she is.”

The old woman sighed and threw a bag over her shoulders. You watched in horror as she tucked a pack of surgical tools into the pocket of her large skirt. Were these people about to carve into you?

What the fuck was wrong with this goddamn place?

The old man held out his arm and she limped over to him, taking it and walking away from you. You glanced around, still confused on what the hell was going on. “Hey!” You croaked. Your hand wrapped around your waist, prodding the wound. You were shocked to find it healed over, only a dull ache left in its place. “Hey!” You shouted again.

The woman turned around and glared at you. “What?” She screeched and you winced at the way it echoed through the trees.

“Where’s Filly?”

She shared a look with the old man and they both stared at you like you were crazy. “Right behind you,” they walked off without another word, seeming sorely disappointed that they hadn’t been able to dig into you.

You groped blindly through the dirt and grass around you until your fingers felt the handle of your bag. You curled your hand into a weak fist and tugged it towards you. You felt completely drained. But you couldn’t stay here, not unless you wanted to be turned into someone’s next meal.

You groaned and forced yourself to your feet, head swimming with pain and nausea. You zipped your suit back up and winced at how it stuck to your skin. Your blood still hadn’t dried completely, you looked down and grimaced at the crimson stains covering you. No wonder it hadn’t dried, it looked like someone had dunked a bucket of red paint over you. How the hell were you still standing?

You’re not sure what’s worse right now, that you’re not surprised you got shot or that you can’t figure out whether he shot you on purpose or not.

He’d made it clear what exactly you were to him. A hole to fill, as he’d so eloquently told you. And you’re pretty sure you’d made it clear that you weren’t interested in filling that role for him ever again. At least you hoped you did, last night was an adrenaline fueled blur and you weren’t positive you were remembering everything properly.

You can barely recall that raider jumping you, you just know you’d shot your gun off and made a run for it. The bullet hole hadn’t even caught up to you until you were about half a mile away. Maybe Cooper had shot you on purpose. It’s not like you contributed much and you doubted he really needed your help in Filly.

Made you wonder why he bothered keeping you around for as long as he did.

You could hear it now, Filly, you’re not sure how you didn’t before. You couldn’t see it yet, but you could hear people calling out their wares and haggling about prices. You hurried as much as you could, one leg dragging behind you slightly. You’re not sure when that got hurt, but you could barely work your right hip properly.

Little houses were popping up around you. They were sparse and resembled shacks more than anything, but it was just another sign that you’re one step closer to not having to worry about getting shot at every five minutes.

In front of one of the nicer homes was a clothesline. You slowly approached, eyes on the clean clothes that were beckoning you closer. You kept your hand on the handle of your gun just in case the owner of the home spotted you. What you really didn’t need was getting killed over a shirt.

You glanced around, not seeing anyone watching you. Your gaze went back to the clothes and you frowned. If there was one thing Cooper taught you it was that no one asked in this world, they took. You ripped the clothes off the line and ducked behind a tree to change.

Even with the blood still caked onto your skin, you felt cleaner than you had the whole time you’d been up here. Getting rid of that ridiculous suit was good for a few things. You’d blend in better with the people here in a tank top and ratty old brown pants. And you almost felt like you were getting rid of the memories attached to that suit.

It was as close as you could get without grating your skin off at least.

You dumped your old outfit behind the house and near their clothesline. A transaction of sorts. They could have your blood soaked clothes and you could have their clean ones. Not a fair trade, but better than anything else they’d find up here.

It didn’t take long to find the entrance to Filly, once you did you found yourself nearly cowering at the sight of all the people bustling through. Sure, it wasn’t a lot compared to California. But you’d been traveling with no one but Cooper for the past week through a barren desert. Not counting the raiders as human, you’d almost forgotten that other people existed.

A man jumped at you and shoved a skewer of meat in your face. “Dogmeat, get your dogmeat!” You grimaced and backed away from him. So, not as civilized as you’d hoped, but you’d take what you could get.

The biggest one nodded towards him, “Grab him.”

He grinned and shook his head, “I wouldn’t.”

The boy on the far left had his head blown off before he could even try and charge at him. He ripped the shotgun off his back and shot the other two in quick succession. He didn’t bother with them, seeing if they lived or died. He kicked at the woman at his feet again and she winced in pain.

“The woman you fought. Where is she?”

She shook her head and curled further into herself. He sighed and grabbed her chin, wrenching it up to his and letting her get a good look at his disfigured face. She tried to shrink away from him but he tsked and shook her so hard he could hear what few remaining teeth she had rattle.

“I don’t know,” she cried out, batting uselessly at his hands.

“I really think you do.”

He reached down, groping over her torso and digging his fingers into the bullet hole on her side. She cried out in agony, writhing like an animal caught in a snare. “Filly, she was heading for Filly!”

He grinned and dropped her to the ground, her head thudding loudly against the large tree root. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”

She looked up at him in fear, “You’ll let me go?”

He tilted his head, looking her over and taking in the sight of blood on her clothes. “Well, you did attack my friend,” he lifted his gun and she cowered away from him. “I don’t take well to others damaging what’s mine.”

Her brain splattered against the trunk and he stepped over her twitching body to follow the light he noticed further down the forest. He didn’t often find himself exploring these woods at night, he figured he was close enough to Filly but he needed her to confirm it.

For a moment he lets himself doubt that she was really abandoning him in the middle of the night. Maybe she’d gotten up for a piss and been caught off guard. He dismisses the idea when he remembers that she’d taken her bag with her when she’d gone.

He doesn’t let himself linger on it too long, pissed off that it’s bothering him at all.

He’d seen the hope starting to form in her eyes when she’d look at him. She was getting a little loose with what she was calling him too. A little while longer together and he’s sure he’d be hearing his name again. Saying what he had was a favor to them both. Better to cut that off before anything came of it.

Stupid fucking girl, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this anymore. He shouldn’t be looking for her, either. The confirmation that she’d left him was enough. Their time together was done, it should have ended a long time ago. He’s pretty sure he liked it better when he just thought she was a two-timing slut.

Hate was easier than whatever the fuck this was.

He spotted smoke through the trees and then the raiders camp. They were laughing at something and ripping into a roast that looked suspiciously like a human leg. He pulled his gun out and snuck behind them. He just needed a distraction, he’d be over this once he helped himself to their meals and their bedrolls.

“What?”

“Caps,” the girl’s voice was distorted by whatever metal oddity she had connected to her throat. She glanced at you, completely uninterested once she’d realized you didn’t have any payment for her. Not that you really understood the payment required.

Who’d decided bottle caps were a good currency?

“Well, do you know where I could get them?” She nodded towards a building adjacent to her stall and you frowned.

The store she pointed to you clearly advertised, WE BUY TEETH. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Or,” you glanced at her with hope, “you go to that alley over there and get on your knees. You could probably get five caps off someone if you suck good enough.”

You glared at her and started walking away from her stall in anger. “I’d get more for my fucking teeth!” You shouted over your shoulder. She shrugged and went back to fiddling with the metal tools on her table.

You stood in the middle of the marketplace, desperately trying to figure out where you should go. You almost missed Cooper right now, he might be a dick but at least he understood how this place worked.

You felt an intense ache of betrayal and longing and immediately dismissed any thoughts of Cooper. He could go and get himself shot for all you cared. You loved him, and would have loved him no matter how he looked. It didn’t matter that he was changed, disfigured, you didn’t give a shit about any of that. You just wanted him. And all he cared about was having a pretty body warming his bed.

You would do this without him.

You glared against the bright sunlight, scanning each storefront and trying to find something that could help you. You’d already tried to talk to Ma June but she hadn’t been as pleasant as you had been hoping. She wasn’t looking for workers and apparently not charity cases either.

You didn’t think you were a charity case but apparently having all your fingers and teeth made you an outsider here. You needed to get out of this sun, you didn’t want these clothes to start stinking with sweat so soon. You were trying to keep them as clean as possible for as long as you could.

You spotted the bar and decided to try your luck there. Maybe you could be a waitress or something. If they still had whores they had to at least have servers here.

Right?

Maybe you were a fucking charity case. You shook off the thought and ducked inside. You were never going to get far on your own if you kept doubting yourself. You might be a bit naive to how this world works but you’re a fast learner, you’ll catch on soon enough.

You still wished someone was here to help you.

He sat down on a log, ripping a piece of meat off the skewer and sinking back into his seat. He ate his food and picked at his teeth, bored while he surveyed the damage he’d done to the camp. She wasn’t exactly a heavy conversationalist, but at least she was something.

It was startling just how quiet and still the night felt without her sitting across the fire with him. He loathed to admit it, but her company had at least provided him with some entertainment if nothing else. Now everything felt too quiet, too lonely.

He sighed and shook his head, this was stupid. Two hundred years he’s been on his own. A few nights with her wasn’t going to change who he was. It wasn’t going to fix him and magically turn him into her Prince Charming again.

Unbidden he thought of her face when he’d grabbed her from those raiders in the old neighborhood. It’s the first time anyone’s ever looked relieved to see him since he’d changed. He’d had to pry her off of him and even then she seemed like she barely wanted to let him go.

He hadn’t made anyone feel safe in a very long time and he worried a bit for her sanity if she thought he was trustworthy. He was only doing more harm trying to go after her. But something in him couldn’t let go. It was like the love you used to share had been warped alongside him.

He didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting their hands on her. She was his to fuck with and torment, anyone else would push too much. He felt confident, despite tonight’s incident, that he knew how to poke her without going too far.

Once he was full he shoved a freshly killed raider off their bedroll and settled down to sleep. He figured he’d have better luck recognizing where he was once the sun came up.

The next morning he went through the raiders’ pockets and bags, lucky enough to find some Radaway among their junk. Maybe he was right, maybe she was a bad luck charm. Maybe he was being stupid last night, thinking about what they used to be. There’s no point in dwelling in the past, he can never go back to that and neither can she.

Still, he could leave her alone. Give her a chance to make it on her own without him there to torment her.

He considered it for about two seconds before he dismissed the thought. You’d both had a deal and she had rescinded on that deal. He didn’t take to kindly to people screwing him over, he’d just have to teach her not to fuck with him.

He tossed his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the raider’s camp. He had a better idea of where he was now. It wouldn’t be much further until he reached Filly and found her again. He was intent on making sure she stayed with him this time.

He’d leash her if he had to.

“There’s nothing I could do for a few caps?”

“I could think of something darlin’,” a man hollered at you from across the makeshift bar. The building was in pretty good shape, though the alcohol looked questionable. The owner seemed nice enough, a wrinkled old man whose hands shook too hard for him to pour a drink without spilling it.

“Don’t need any help.” The old man muttered under his breath, tottering over to the other side of the room to pour another cup. He ended up knocking it into the man’s lap and cussing as the alcohol poured across the floor.

“Right,” you muttered. You let your head fall in your hands, rubbing your face in frustration while you tried to think of what to do. You’d made a deal with yourself that if you couldn’t find work by the end of the day, you would sell your teeth.

You were hoping it wouldn’t come to that, but with the way your stomach was rumbling and how everyone seemed to keep turning you away it was seeming more and more likely. You slumped over the bar, trying to think of a solution or another idea.

You’d been propositioned by enough men to know you could make plenty of caps in the back alley behind the bar. But everytime you even remotely considered it, you felt yourself shrinking up. Your adrenaline would spike like you were readying yourself for a fight.

You figured it would be a while before you could even safely consider that. “You seem a might rundown, hun.”

You didn’t bother lifting your head. You knew it was the man who’d been staring at you since you walked in. You could smell him even with your head down. You did your best to ignore him but he didn’t seem to take too kindly to that.

“Hey,” he shoved at your shoulder and the impact was enough to force your head up. “Are you fucking deaf?”

”No,” you muttered through gritted teeth. Your hand hovered behind your back, itching for the gun tucked in your pants. “I’m not fucking interested.”

He lifted his hand and muttered, “Bitch,” a loud smack followed and echoed through the bar. Your head whipped to the side so hard you worried it might fly off. You clutched your cheek, spitting blood onto the wood of the counter.

Your hand was already on your gun when you heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back. “Oh,” you turned, shocked to find Cooper standing behind the man. His gun was leveled with the man’s face and he shook his head in disappointment. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

Men stood up from their tables and drew their guns, pointing all of them at Cooper. You’d seen the signs with the anti-ghoul symbols but you didn’t think they’d really follow through. Apparently it was the only law they obeyed around here.

Cooper smiled as the men cocked their guns, eyes alight with a challenge. Then they landed on you and he frowned again. He raised his hands in surrender and tucked his gun back in his holster. He darted forward and grabbed you. He yanked you into his chest and you stumbled over your feet, scowling at him. He leaned next to your ear, gravelly voice sending chills down your back, “We’re leaving.”

He didn’t leave you much choice, dragging you despite the way you tried to fight against him. “The lady stays,” the man who’d hit you ordered. His friends took a step forward, blocking Cooper from the exit. He chuckled and glanced over at the man.

“That was a mistake, friend.” Before you knew what was happening he was shoving you to the ground and shots were going off. Not willing to get shot again, you crawled on all fours towards the door. The sound of bullets whizzing over your head had you ducking every now and again, trying to protect yourself as much as you could.

You could hear Cooper taunting them, and after every remark another body would hit the floor. You yelped and jumped back when one fell in front of you. A bullet embedded itself in the floor beside you, the wood splintering and exploding upward, just barely missing your face.

You crawled over the dead bodies and threw yourself out the door, trying to outrun the sound of gunfire. But it was too late. The rest of Filly had heard the fight and those that were stupid enough to stay were starting to draw the fight out into the marketplace.

It was almost like a game, ducking under bullets and the spray of blood. Whatever Cooper was shooting them with was making them light up like the Fourth of July. By the time you’d managed to hide yourself behind a building, you looked like you’d been hosed down with blood. So much for keeping the clothes clean.

Your head thudded against the side of the building and you clenched your eyes shut, breathing heavily through your open mouth. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest. But you didn’t feel like you were going to have a heart attack this time, maybe you were starting to adapt to all this.

Feet scrambled across the sand and someone threw themselves down next to you. You tensed and opened your eyes, you didn’t relax much when you realized it was Cooper. He grinned at you and glanced over his shoulder, checking no one had seen him.

The other’s didn’t seem to care that the man that had started the fight was no longer a part of it. You’re pretty sure they just needed an excuse to shoot each other. Cooper popped his gun open and reloaded the chamber.

He glanced at your blood soaked form and scoffed, “You look like you’re doing well.”

You refused to look at him, “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

He didn’t take well to the way you were avoiding him. He darted forward, fingers digging into your chin and forcing you to look at him. “Sweetheart, who left who?”

You ripped your face out of his hand and glared at him. “Don’t try and pretend like you didn’t leave me a long time before I woke up. You wrote me off copper. You assumed the worst about me and you gave up.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something when a noise behind you interrupted him. He gave you a long look and got to his feet. “If you’re not here when I come back, I’ll shoot you. Understand me?”

You looked at him for a long moment, body tensed with rage before you nodded your head. “Understood.”

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#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

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1.5k / 20 / post-apocalypse au, part 1

...

You're injured but moving as fast as you can with your bow slung over your back. Soap is close behind you, giving chase, shouting your name as he does. Doesn't he learn? Doesn't he know you'll pull your bow on him again if he corners you?

He must know, but he's too stubborn to give up the chase. You don’t understand it.

He pushes on, just as graceful and twice as effective as you. You slip through the thick trees and their branches trailing whips of brambles. He shoves past them. You’re injured. He’s not. He's gaining, boots heavy in the soil.

"Watch yourself--!"

Your boot lands on leaf litter that falls out from under you--a pit trap. You’re moving barely fast enough for your momentum to save you from falling in. Your waist hits the edge of the pit. You brace yourself by your elbows, fingers digging into the dirt. The soft underside of your arms drag against something sharp underneath.

Soap grabs you by your coat and pulls you up out of the trap and to your feet before you can scramble out yourself. You're neither surprised nor mollified by his careful handling of you.

"Let me go!"

"Na. You're hurt. Stay still."

"Soap, I swear to God--"

"Shut up. I'm taking a look."

He holds your arm firmly with one large hand and, with the other, pulls your sleeve away from the bleeding gash. You grab his wrist with a pained curse. Whatever caught your arms—the rough wood and metal at the trap's edge—tore you bloody. Soap glares at the gash and then at you. He's close.

You could reach for your bow or for the dagger on your hip. But you know for a fact he's armed. With guns. A sniper rifle on his back and two sidearms at his belt. He knows how to use them, too. If you fight, he wins. But you know better than to back down quickly. The world is crueler than it used to be ever since things went to shit. People who show weakness don’t survive.

"Why are you following me?" you growl, your grip on his wrist tightening.

His grip on you loosens in turn when you speak. "You know why. I'm lookin' out for ya."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"Aye, but you still needed it."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Soap," you retort, trying to pull your wrist away. "It's every person for themselves. Stop following me."

"That's no way to live. The world may be a shithole, but there are still folk around who'll lend you a hand even though they don't need to. Soldier or no'."

You can't get out of his grip when he's determined to keep you there, and he is. As much as you'd like to give him a matching wound for being so goddamn stubborn, the rational part of your brain--the part that makes sure you survive--knows better than to expend energy struggling when it's not strictly necessary.

"Nobody lends a hand unless they want something in return," you mutter, glaring down at your wound as he bandages it. "Even if they're pretending otherwise."

He knows you speak from experience. You're a woman, and that means you're nothing but a resource to the worst of whoever’s left. He can't blame you for being guarded. Then again, you wouldn't be making such heated statements to his face if you really thought he intended to hurt you. You're just... defensive. Hiding under all that anger. That's what he tells himself. So he ignores your grumbled protests.

"That's how you'd look at it," he finally replies as he finishes dressing the wound. "Seein' as you've not met the right people. But some of us don't expect anything back."

"You don't expect it because you think you're better than asking. But you still want it."

"Might be so." His voice is soft, gravelly, but you can hear the steel in it. "But am not asking, now am I? So stop your fussin'. You're safe. Nae need to worry." He releases your bandaged arm.

"You run your hand along the wrapping, checking it. "Fine. But I'm... I'm not coming back with you."

"Can't promise you'll be safe out there. Where do ye plan to go?"

"I don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did."

"Aye." He rubs his jaw, examining you with flint in his blue eyes. Pressing you for an answer would be pointless. Not that you seem to be lying—but you're not telling the whole truth. The short history you share with him is just enough that he can tell. But he also knows trying to change your mind would be pointless. If you won't listen, he'd have better luck bashing his head against one of these huge, mutated oaks.

"Am nae stoppin' ya. But these woods are full of treacherous paths. If ye run into trouble—when ye run into trouble--my boys and I, we know these woods well enough to dust you off and send you in the right direction. Cannae promise to find you before somethin’ else does, though."

You're fairly sure he's not lying. His boys, as he calls them—his old squad, you think—they've made their home in these woods. It's perilous living—bears, wolves, muties, and terrain just as hazardous as the wildlife. And still those men are the most dangerous things in here.

The offer is tempting. You consider it for longer than you should, looking down at your bandaged arm again. But then you step back, shaking your head slowly. "No, thanks. I have to get going."

It tears him up inside. You're making the wrong choice. If he lets you walk away, he's letting you walk to your death.

He looks at you for a moment. You can tell he's got something more to say. But he changes his mind, stepping back as well. He pulls something from his belt and holds it out. A handgun, scuffed and black, grip held toward you. You stare at it for a second before looking back up at him. He's serious?

"I'm not gonna take that--"

"You're damn well gonna take it." His voice is low and insistent. "You think I don't know you'll run into trouble out here? Don't be a fool. I have spare. Take it."

Your one rule is don't owe anybody anything. How the fuck are you about to owe this man twice?

Fine. Whatever. It's not like you have to use it. Could just barter it. Not like you’re going to see him again. You take the gun, biting back a retort.

He nods his approval. The steely look in his eyes softens, though he still looks dismayed. "Mind where you point that. And when you pull it. Biters'll hear it for a mile and come running. Survivors, too. The curious ones." He glances at your bandaged arm one more time. Then he adjusts the bag over his shoulder and turns his back, walking away from you. Back to camp. "Am expectin' you to keep yourself alive with that," he growls. "Or else it's a lot of good time and material I wasted on ya."

"I didn't ask you to waste your breath," you retort, practically snarling at his retreating back in your irritation. You watch him go until he's disappeared into the trees. You need to make sure he doesn't plan on doubling back and following you.

Then you set off on your own. You take a winding path to throw off any trackers. Never can be too cautious. The gun in your pocket is heavy against your thigh, and you try not to think of it as a comforting security.

You came here to get Roach back, and you don’t care how long you have to wander this Godforsaken forest. You’re not leaving without him.

…

Soap feels your eyes on him until you disappear.

He wants to divorce himself from this, but he’s on edge. People who strike out on their own here come to a nasty end. But he’s not going to take away your agency by deciding what's best for you. You were right about him not being a soldier, after all. He doesn’t have the authority to herd you back to his squad’s campsite. Your life is in your own hands.

He just hopes you live to do better than he believes you will.

That night, he sleeps restlessly. Which is why, when he hears a cluster of gunshots in the distance, he wakes up instantly. It's you. In trouble.

The night watch—Gaz tonight—is already there, tossing Soap's gun to him. "You were right," Gaz says.

"Course I was," Soap says with a lopsided grin. "Owe me a ten-piece in the next poker game, aye?"

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more Soap / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 months

Note

Bad Sanses with the “who hurt you” trope?

Horror: His big arms are walls against the outside world. He pulls you in close, nothing can reach you. He holds you with a love older than blood, a love that asks for nothing in return - you feel the words through his great chest rather than hearing them. You aren't sure if he's touching your hair to comfort you, or to stop himself from quivering with rage. Perhaps it's both. He smells like a food you didn't know you were craving, he sounds like a home that's waiting for you, and he feels like somewhere you can sleep.

He absorbs the scents on you like a bloodhound. Asking who did it was redundant. If he ever sees them, he will know.

Dust: The cuts to your body are amateur, ragged, as if someone took a hacksaw to his favourite porcelain doll. Where did his gloves go? One hand on your back, one cupping your face. The proximity shuts your mouth. You're close enough to feel how he's trying to control his breathing; from within the shadows under his hood, you see his eyelights, the anger pooling within them. Dust's words are so rare, they're soft but something frightening is following when he asks, lightning without thunder. Death by a thousand cuts? No. Just from holding his gaze, you know that only a thousand cuts won't be enough to satisfy his thirst for revenge.

Killer: He doesn't speak. He doesn't ask. He places a loving kiss to your temple, as if to assure you there's still something of your silly jester left in the leaking wraith before you. But he knows better than to be close to the thing he loves most when he doesn't want to smile anymore. The mask is missing, there's few things more terrifying than Killer without words, emptiness where the face once was. Was it all an act? No one knows. Not even Killer.

... You might expect the others to intervene when he's leaving. But they merely step aside, even Nightmare dares not stand in the way of Killer's hunt. They only ever laugh because they know he wants them to. Right now, they don't have that right.

Nightmare: He holds your chin. He's gentle - he always is with you. You thought he'd rage like an animal, command you to tell him who did this, as shadows choked you from the inside out.

You forget that there's no one who could feel your fear as intimately as he does. He's tasted your terror, your pain, the ache of the bruises and the sting of the cuts, the salt of your tears and the ice of the chills. He knows. He understands. He touches his forehead to yours, it's alright. You can fall apart, he's here, there's no shame, there's nothing he hasn't seen a hundred times before. Just let go. Let it all out. You can't drown in this sea, dear; not when he is the water.

There will be time for fury later. For now, the king needs to tend to his love.

...

Error: Will you tell him who did it? You can feel his rage, it's splitting the air around you, lines between realities are shimmering like hot oil. Whoever did this will suffer in a way that a mortal mind cannot comprehend. He'll peel them apart like crumbling sheets of wet pastry. Could you do that to someone? Could you knowingly sentence them to a pain that doesn't yet have a name? Perhaps you could talk him down from it, soothe his fury. But is that really what you want to do, when you're so tired?

The choice is yours. Just know that this is one web that cannot be undone.

#llamagines #ooo watch out llama's getting ✨experimental✨ this time

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thisonehere · 7 months

Text

How'd they react to finding out you're in love with someone else

Liu Kang, Shang Tsung, Bi-Han, Tomas, Johnny Cage

C/w: Angst, unrequited love, unhealthy obsession

Liu Kang

When creating this new timeline, Liu Kang thought of many as he weaved a world. But it was you who swam through his mind most. He had hoped that you and him would be reunited in this world. Whenever he felt lonely he would often comfort himself with his thoughts of you and him together.

So imagine his pain when he realizes you love another. The pain is one of the greatest he has ever felt in centuries. He wants to do something, anything, to stop this. He doesn't want this to happen.

But he sees how happy this person makes you, so he stands back and watches as you continue this relationship with them.

It kills him inside to you two together, but he will always put your happiness before his.

Shang Tsung

Unfortunately, Stung is quite the opposite from Liu Kang.

In all his life, Shang Tsung has always been a selfish man. He never truly cared about another person...until you.

Finding out cut him deep, he never anticipated that someone, even you, could hurt him this badly. It burns him inside seeing you two together, jealousy consumes him, though this part of him hardly ever shows thanks to his cool and charismatic facade.

"That should be me," he thinks to himself. He'll do anything to get you for himself. He'll shower you with gifts, embarrass your love and make them look like fool, openly flirt with you in front of them, show off his power every chance he gets.

Alas, this does not work. But this won't deter him, he'll keep trying over and over again... He always gets what he wants.

Bi-Han

He has always thought very highly of himself. He even felt at one point entitled to you, to own you like you were but a slab of meat.

So when he finds out you prefer another, he is furious. "Who do they think they are" he thinks to himself, "To think that they are worthy of you?" He will belittle their every action, he wants to make them look pathetic compared to him and remind them of how much better he is compared to them.

And Elder Gods forbid that whoever you love is Lin Kuei. Because Bi-Han would make their life a living hell. Even trying to get them killed at some point.

Eventually, he'll see how much his actions are hurting you, so he gives up. He stands aside and watches as you two be together, he will feel his heart break as you do.

Tomas Vrbada

Tomas has always loved you, so when he finally worked up the courage to go to you and confess his true feelings, he is crushed to learn that you are in love with someone else.

He'll play it off and try to laugh it off. But inside he's hurting. He'll blame himself for waiting so long to finally confess, and he'll envy that person you chose.

But he won't try to fight like Bi-Han would, instead he would be your wingman. He'd do his best to help you with your relationship with them.

Seeing you together, you being happy with them, destroys him. On the surface he'll pretend like everything is okay, but inside he still blames himself. He can't help but wonder what life could've been like if he'd told you how he felt sooner.

Johnny Cage

Johnny has always been one cocky bastard, so he doesn't sweat this at first. "Nothing to worry about, just need to try harder," he thinks.

He'll try to buy your affections, bring gifts, take you on trips around the world, anything to impress you. But that's not how love works.

The pain that erupts in him when he realizes you don't love him in that way is terrible. He gets mad at himself, what was so wrong with him? First Cristina now you.

He smiles through the pain and congratulates you both. "Well done, you are lucky son of a bitch" he says through a forced smile.

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xtreklx · 10 months

Text

You're hurt ~ Ninja Turtles x reader

Headcanon: Bayverse Turtles x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: SFW, angst + a little fluff, mention of injury

A/N: really appreciate all of the love shown to my last headcanon post, so I thought I'd do another one! switching up the tone tho and doing a little bit of angst ~ hope you enjoy!

__________

~Leonardo~

we all know that Leo probably has the best handle on his emotions of all the turtle brothers

so when he sees your injured form, on the outside he probably looks a healthy amount of concerned

but inside he is absolutely going beserk

like amber alert sounds going off in his brain fr

he asks Donnie what to do as they quickly tend to your injury but as they work, there is a ringing in his ears

when you wake up from being unconscious, the first thing he does is let out a big sigh of relief, and then "how're you holding up, princess? can I do anything for you?"

and when you smile softly back at him and say "I'm okay now, love, I promise" his heart is going to shatter and then put itself back together again all at once

he is so quick to do anything and everything to alleviate your pain

while you are healing, of course he takes the main shift in caring for you

he is constantly refilling your water bottle, bringing you food or tea, changing out your bandages

he'll even sit on the chair next to your bed and read to you, just to take your mind off of any pain you may be experiencing

our guy in blue is very motherly and nurturing in that way

but lowkey, he will take any chance he gets to step out of the room because of how much it pains him to see you like this

he'll lean against the wall outside of the lab/infirmary and rub his temples, furrowing his brow ridge and holding in tears

his most precious, delicate flower, trampled by the cruel, outside world

but he won't let you see his pre-grief; you only see him with a smile on his face

it's only when you start making visible progress with your injury that he starts to feel okay again

because the physical proof that you are going to recover reassures him that he is not going to lose you any time soon

~Raphael~

omg when Big Red saw you injured... his world literally came to a halt

like record scratch type of halt

his biggest fear in the whole wide world is losing his family, and you are a part of his family now

so he is simply beside himself with fear and worry and is absolutely desperate and angry until he knows that you're going to make it

he will be snapping at whoever is tending to your wounds, if anyone tries to pull him away from you he WILL FIGHT THEM

he is very not okay and very emotional

once he gets a moment alone, he will definitely let the emotions take over and cry to himself

when you first wake up, he will say or do whatever he can to make you feel tough, because he doesn't want you feeling weak while down for the count

"damn, you really showed 'em, huh tiger? you shoulda seen the guy, he was limpin' away after the stunt you pulled."

swears up and down that he will kill whoever touched you, and even though raph is a violent guy, he's not a killer. but he 100% means what he says

however, a big part of him is going to blame himself. for not being with you, for letting you get in the way of danger, for even allowing you to be a part of a life like this to begin with.

but you can read the big guy like a book. so you give him a knowing smile and tenderly reassure him: "I wouldn't do a thing differently. I love you, and I want to be with you no matter what."

you got him fucked up, that's for sure

and while you are healing he is in no way shape or form leaving your side for a SECOND

he will fall asleep next to your infirmary bed, he will eat meals next to you, he will do whatever Donnie tells him to, but he will not be able to physically bear leaving your side

man's top quality is his loyalty, and while his fears or insecurities may get the best of him every once in a while, he's in it too deep now, and he'll do anything to be by your side

~Donatello~

as we expect, Donnie is able to keep his head on straight when he sees that you're injured

he knows that he has to have his wits about him because he's the only qualified medic of the group

but deep, deep down he is in full-on panic mode

Don keeps different groups of tabs open in his brain (like on a google chrome browser), and while one of the groups is flipping through every medical textbook he has ever read, another group is just going "Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N--"

over and over again like a computer system error

his brothers are trying to help him tend to your injuries but he is extremely strict with whatever they do and has a very hard time letting go of the reins

as he's talking to them, he looks concentrated and steady, but his voice will not stop cracking

once he has decided that you are stable and going to be okay is when he breaks down

he's definitely also a crier, and can't help but think about how he almost lost you and can't function without you

but he gets a hold of himself, continues to chronically monitor your vitals and pain levels, and then immediately gets to work on a new invention to keep you safe

when you first wake up, now that he's feeling a little more confident with your condition, he'll say something silly to cheer you up, like "well hello to my newest little experiment"

and you'll smile back at him with a joking "hi, Doctor Dee", insisting that you're fine as he asks you a bunch of analytical questions about your symptoms

after he's done playing doctor, he'll just sit next to you for a moment in silence, looking apprehensive

but you know exactly what he's thinking, so you say "you're my hero, Donatello. you know that, don't you?"

he gets so blushy and flustered at that, but has the biggest smile on his face

~Michelangelo~

surprisingly, when Mikey sees you hurt, he goes quiet

you would think that with our goofball in orange, his reaction would be super over-the-top and dramatic

no, mans goes dead silent

he never gave much thought to what his fears in life were before this, but he has realized that one of his biggest fears has just come true

he asks Donnie what he needs to do, and he doesn't think he has ever sounded more desperate in his life

he does his tasks immediately and with the utmost attention to detail, no protests and no questions asked

his brothers have never seen him like this before in their lives: so focused and concerned and quiet

they'll tell you about it later, as a testament to how much the guy lives and breathes for you

once Don has confirmed that you are stable and going to be okay, he lets out the biggest sigh of relief and overall goes back to his old self

when you wake up from unconsciousness, you're a little confused as to what happened, and he just goes "you got hurt on your way down from heaven, angel!"

he does everything he can to comfort you and make you smile and relieve your pain while you're recovering

he'll bring his speaker in and play you some of your favorite songs, sometime putting on elaborate performances to get you to laugh

he'll try and cuddle with you in your hospital bed and whine when Donnie protests

"awe come on, Doctor Dee! help a dude out a little!"

but he'll be successful whenever Donnie is sleeping or too engrossed in one of his other projects, and he'll lay next to you and stroke your hair

but whenever he remembers that moment when he thought he had lost you, he will go dark for a moment or two

and he will do whatever it takes to ensure that it never happens again.

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floatyflowers · 4 months

Text

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Five

<<< Chapter Four

"My back hurts so bad right now"

"It must be the seats...There is no way this is what sacred smells like"

Percy whines, as all four of you sit in the back of the bus.

The blond boy feels bothered for not being able to sit beside you.

"We’re soldiers on a mission. It’s not a vacation." Annabeth shoots back.

You start scratching your back from the itchness and the pain.

"I will go to the bathroom in the store, be right back"

You announce and leave before they can say anything to you.

Percy stands up to follow you, but Annabeth forces him back in his seat.

"No, you will stay right there, I'm going to go check on her"

°°°

The moment Annabeth enters the toilet, she is shocked to see white wings on your back.

"Are those wings? And your eyes, they are red"

"Yes" you answer nervously.

"Oh...wow"

"I know, do you think I can fly with them?" you ask excitedly.

I mean it's every child's dream to have wings to fly.

And now you got the chance to do that.

"Your wings might cause a huge problem it will attract monsters"

"Don't worry, my dad gave me a music box to keep the monsters away"

You pull out the music box from your bag.

"Also, can humans see my wings?"

A woman enters the toilet after you ask that question.

She only washes her hands then walks out.

"No, they don't" Annabeth says after the woman leave.

"We need to leave, I sense that we are being followed by a monster"

You turn on the music box as a beautiful melody begins to play.

"This will keep us safe"

°°°

You and Annabeth walk into the bus with Annabeth shouting to the two boys to open the windows.

Percy only stares at you in surprise at your new appearance, then hurries off to break the window with Grover when he sees Mrs. Dodds.

As the passengers get off the bus when the driver announces emergency, one of the furies fly into the bus through the broken window.

The monster looks at you ready to approach you.

But the melody makes it scream in pain when it was close to touching you.

Annabeth takes her chance and throws her dagger at the fury, killing it as it turns into dust.

All four of you escape quickly.

°°°

"Hades has kidnapped your mother, (Y/n)"

Annabeth says, as you walk all together in the Satyr path.

"What? Why would he do that!" you exclaim, worried for your mother.

"Who told you that?" Percy inquires, looking at her in suspicion.

But before she could answer, Grover sniffs the air.

"Do you guys smell that?"

"Grover, I’m not kidding..." Percy asserts.

"No, neither am I. Just shush."

"Hamburgers" you sigh at Grover, causing him to blush.

"I think you are just hungry, Grover"

"No, I'm not, somebody's making hamburgers in the middle of nowhere, on a satyr path. Whoever it is... they’re from our world."

°°°

You don't know what made you trust Percy and go inside Medusa's house along with Grover and Annabeth.

Probably because Mrs.Dodds is outside waiting to snatch you and Percy away.

"You're concerned I would hold a grudge against you simply because you are a daughter of Athena?"

You don't dare to look at Medusa even if she is hiding her eyes.

Medusa continues speaking to Annabeth.

"You shouldn’t be. We're not our parents after all. And you and I might have more in common than you think. Please, sit and eat."

Letting out a nervous breath after Medusa starts speaking to you.

"You must be the daughter of Calista, you look like her when she was your age."

Medusa notices that you are not looking at her, she could feel your fear.

"Your mother was a friend of mind, she visited me and told me about her encounters with the gods, poor thing, they wouldn't leave her"

"...They" you inquire.

"Your mother is the daughter of Nyx, her beauty attracted the attention of many gods including Poseidon, Hades, Apollo, Hermes, and Eros"

Percy shivers at the thought that his father loved your mother.

Maybe he can succeed where his father failed.

"Your mother is an enchanteress not a demigod"

Grover jokes, but stops when Annabeth glares at him.

That must be why Hades kidnapped your mother.

Little do you know that you might up having a similar fate like your mother.

But with demigods instead.

Masterlist

#tw: toxic relationships #platonic yandere #reader insert #yandere percy jackson #yandere percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians

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eilidh-eternal · 6 months

Text

Hmmm, how about some Little Red Riding Hood reader and Big Bad wolf-shifter Price???

18+ MDNI | This is a DARK FIC | cw: blood, drowning, predator and prey dynamics

You heard drowning is quick. Painless.

Whoever said that has never drowned before.

In the bleak midwinter, when water turns to stone, the blades beneath your feet find fissures and fractures and carve a place for you in the dark depths beneath the ice.

Falling through ice feels a lot like stepping beyond the warmth of one’s home into the howling, biting wind of a winter storm. It hurts, for a moment, before it numbs you. Right down to the bones. But this is an all encompassing numbness, the kind that seeps through fabric and flesh and bone—that kind that floods burning lungs and creeps into your mind.

Layers of winter garb, thermals, sweater, down coat and jeans, all soak up the frigid water and turn to a leaden weight on your body. You kick, claw at the fading sliver of caustic light, but it slips through your fingers like the rest of the water does—flickers and wavers at the disturbance. A sick parting wave as you sink further and further beyond reach. Beyond saving.

The burning in your lungs from the cold is a thousand times worse when you suck in nothing but water, unable to fight the instinct to draw breath 10 feet below the surface. Thrashing against the frigid clutches of the frozen lake is meaningless. A foolish final attempt to fight for life above the surface, to save yourself from a watery grave.

Another burning breath.

More gelid water to fill your lungs.

Another.

The world grows darker. Maybe it’s because the light at the surface is so, so far away now. Maybe it’s your body succumbing to its fate.

One.

Final.

Breath.

Everything hurts. Glacial waters are good at numbing one’s pain in their final moments, but millions of crystallized frozen droplets feel like they’re slicing into your skin as you cough and splutter, heaving up lungfuls of water and bile. Trying to roll, to wretch onto the frozen ground packed with snow to spare your clothes, is a moot point. You’re already soaked.

The whipping wind off the frozen lake is likely to fuse the fabric to your skin too, and the longer you lay here the quicker frostbite, and hypothermia, will set in. You need to get up. Get up and get moving, or whatever miracle that dragged you from the water will be squandered.

Lifting your head is a monumental effort. It throbs, feels like a ton of bricks, and the cold stiffness that’s settled in your bones creaks and pops as you go, until you can see your bare toes, already turning a dangerous hue in the cold. You linger on that.

Bare feet.

No skates.

No thick wool socks.

An unfamiliar jacket draped over your shivering body like a blanket.

Pushing through the ache in your muscles and the cramping from the cold, you manage to get yourself upright and you quickly pull the collar of the jacket closer to you as a gale of wind barrels into you, plastering wet strands of hair to your face. A shuddering intake of breath fills your nose with the scent of pine and musk. Not the synthetic kind you find concentrated in pretty bottles on a perfumers shelf at the department store. Something wild and incapable of being replicated.

There’s a pile of discarded clothing, a man’s by the look of the enormous boots, flannel shirt and canvas work pants, and tracks in the snow leading away from you into the forest. Wherever they came from, and wherever they’ve gone to, is your best chance at finding warmth.

But wait… Someone had saved you, given you their jacket, stripped, and then left? Maybe they’d stripped down before they’d jumped in, no heavy clothes to weigh them down in the water. They look dry, and that’s motivation enough for you to maneuver stiff, frozen limbs through the snow to get to them.

When you twist to drag yourself closer pain slices from your hip up to your ribs and you suck in a sharp breath that comes out in a strangled moan and a cloud of air in front of your face. Peeling away the jacket reveals the tattered thermal that clings to your skin, grey fabric stained a deep crimson where blood seeps from a gash in your side, dripping onto the snow beneath you.

Fuck. Must have clipped the ice on the way down…

Gritting your teeth against the searing pain that radiates from the wound you manage to reach the clothes, dry by some miracle, and strip down as quickly and carefully as you can. Waterlogged jeans are traded for canvas that still feels warm despite laying in the snow for god knows how long, bloodstained and torn thermal for thick flannel, and you waste little time slipping on the socks and boots, lacing them extra tight. It’s all big, you practically swim in it, but you won’t complain about a little extra fabric to bundle up with inside the similarly large jacket.

Getting to your feet feels like twisting a knife in your side, and you take gasping breaths as you push off your knees, bite down on a whimper when you finally get your feet under you and a fresh wave of pain lances through torn muscle. But you’re up. You have dry clothes.

Someone pulled you out of the water. You’re still here.

Bleeding.

Breathing.

Alive.

Trudging through the snow in boots nearly twice the size of your feet slows you down even more than the shin deep drifts, and you have to stop frequently to take a break, to let the pain subside. Blood has begun to seep into the flannel, fabric clinging to your skin beneath the coat, and it drips, stains the beige fabric at your hips, and splatters onto the snow. A trail of blood left like breadcrumbs as you follow the tracks between towering pines.

It would seem your streak of luck has run its course though. The tracks have vanished, come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the forest.

Panic creeps up on you like a prowling wolf, slinking up your spine and lunging, sinking claws and teeth into your terror-stricken mind.

No, no, no! This was supposed to be your way out, dammit!

You twist around, looking for more tracks in the snow, wincing against the stinging pain in your side, and a scream bubbles up in your throat when you find none.

How the fuck do tracks just disappear?!

Gripped tight by the claws of panic your mind reels with worst case scenarios. Blizzards. Hypothermia. Frostbite. Too busy spiraling to notice the very real threat that stands at your back.

A snarl carries on the wind like a knife, slices through the air and buries itself in your back where the hairs stand on end, every single one from your nape to the tips of your fingers.

A low growl, closer this time, sends a shudder down your spine. But you haven’t come all this way, survived this long, just to tuck tail, curl up and accept defeat. So you steel your spine, ball your hands into fists, and turn to face whatever predator has no doubt followed your crimson trail advertising your weakened state.

A wounded little fawn, separated from its herd. Easy prey.

You may be brave enough to face the thing that’s hunted you down, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from widening, doesn’t stop the fresh wave of panic that courses through your chilled veins and drains the blood from your face, when you’re face to face with the massive fucking wolf ten meters away, golden eyes narrowed with a single-minded focus.

His hunt is over. All that’s left is the killing blow.

Part 2>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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kiame-sama · 4 months

Text

Scarlet Eyes- (Yandere!Alpha!Chrollo x Kurta!Omega!Reader)

Warnings; My abo au (only 1000 or less omegas world wide), mention of kidnapping, mention of death, spoilers for the York New arc, gender neutral reader, reader is kurta so this means they have brown->red eyes as all kurta do, switching a few events around chronologically,

~~~~~~~~

"I'm only going to ask you this once, where is my twin?"

Kurapika kept playing the conversation he had in the last moments of the burly spider's life. The sparse information he got from the conversation did little to soothe him or make him feel like he was any closer to finding his beloved twin. If anything, Kurapika worried that he was already too late to do anything.

He had been determined to get whatever information he could from the large man, but the man was near impossible to interrogate. The man only really spoke up when Kurapika mentioned his omega twin. There was little comfort however as the man gave a wolfish grin, bearing his teeth in a clear mocking sneer.

"Oh, the omega? Don't worry about them, Boss has already taken care of it."

The spider's words did nothing to make Kurapika feel better as it sounded like the worst has come to pass. In some ways, he had hoped that the spiders would be interested enough in finding an omega that they wouldn't hurt or sell his twin, but it seemed he was not so lucky. He would kill each and every one of those fuckers and make them pay for the pain they no doubt put his family through.

Kurapika had always hoped that he would be strong enough to protect his sibling- even from the spiders- but that was clearly not the case. It hurt his heart more than he cared to admit when he dwells too long on the fact that he failed his twin. He had dragged them away from home, put them through the gauntlet of the Hunter's exam, swore to protect them, and still he failed. Once he finished the damnable spiders off, he would begin the long journey of finding his twin.

No doubt it would be difficult and near impossible to find them, Omegas were a prized possession after all, but he was determined. Wherever they had taken you, whoever they sold you to, Kurapika would find you. He promises.

~~~~~~~~

You felt an unusual chill run down your back, frowning and glancing towards the door to the abandoned church you were in. Chrollo sat next to you with one arm around you, hand resting on your hip possessively. Though you couldn't place what, something told you that a change had taken place. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps it had something to do with the missing alpha, Uvogin.

Despite being in a group of very dangerous people, you felt rather safe. In part, it had to do with the fact your alpha was an apex alpha, and in part it was because of the respect your alpha commanded. The other spiders- minus Hisoka- respected the fact that their leader had claimed you and kept their distance from you. Hisoka was new to you and clearly you were the first omega he had ever actually encountered. He was determined to get close to you either to rile Chrollo or to get his hands on you, and Chrollo was not pleased with the jester's behavior.

You sometimes felt your mind wander away to thoughts of your twin, hoping he would never come for you but knowing that is all he would want to do. Since you both were young you watched out for each other, but it all changed when you began showing signs of being an omega. Where Kurapika had once been your equal he then became your protector and would loudly protest to you being paired with anyone or taken away from his protection. He would always be your protector and you knew it likely killed him inside to know you had been taken.

It did take time for you to settle the war within yourself that waged due to being mated to the apex alpha that exterminated your clan and kidnapped you. Part of you still hated the alpha, but another part of you adored him as your mate and that part of you was supported by your instincts. It didn't help that you once asked Chrollo why he killed everyone only for him to respond 'because I could' with a kiss to your forehead. Chrollo always seemed to know when he could bring up your scarlet eyes to control you or fluster you. Taking amusement in the simple mentioning of them being enough to quell any overly willful behavior.

For now you were at ease with the monster that claimed you, feeling rather bound to him regardless of the uneasy feeling he sometimes gave you. Chrollo was clearly content with it as well seeing as he held so securely to you and was rather indulgent of your behavior. He even used an ability that allowed him to bring your nest with you and set it up wherever you deemed appropriate. Few Troupe members were allowed near you simply for the fact that Chrollo didn't like others near his omega. Still, you could see how some members were drawn closer by your presence alone.

Beyond just being the mate of a truly monstrous apex alpha, you were getting used to others knowing you were an omega. With Kurapika you had to constantly cover your scent and hide your omega tendencies around others. You had mostly adjusted to behaving like a beta and also adjusted to others thinking you were a beta. It was odd to you that your Hunter's license- which you still thought was a joke- told others you were an omega. The secret you worked hard to keep was so readily shared with others now.

The sudden shift and movement of being pulled into Chrollo's lap made you yelp, startled by the rather abrupt motion. Chrollo seemed amused by your yelp, however. His lips slowly tracing over the mark on your neck as he let one hand brace around your waist, the other squishing your thigh appreciatively. You were confused as to why he would behave in such an open display of affection towards you, as you couldn't think of anything that would trigger this behavior.

"Chrollo, what- what are you doing?"

"Shh, my sweet (Y/n). Just indulge your alpha."

You felt compelled to obey the soft murmur against your shoulder, shivering but no longer struggling against your alpha's hold. Chrollo seemed rather content to focus on kissing your neck and shoulders, almost as if he were establishing dominance. His affectionate display was a show of dominance, reminding the Troupe that you were his exclusively and making it clear that he was still vastly interested in keeping things that way.

Unbeknownst to you and the rest of the Troupe, Hisoka was paying close attention and ensuring to gather what bit of information he could get. He would certainly share this information with the Kurta and see if he could gain you as his own omega in the process.

~~~~~~~~

"I know about your twin and can tell you what you want to know about them."

The smooth words make Kurapika's eyes widen, feeling invigorated and even more determined to get whatever he could from the grinning jester. Hisoka already knew how he was going to portray this information and it excited him to think about the emotional response he would undoubtedly get.

"Tell me."

"So impatient~! Well, if you must know, they are alive and within the city limits. Don't relax too soon though, the lead spider Chrollo has taken them on as his mate and has already marked them. Killing Chrollo will kill (Y/n)."

Hisoka couldn't help the wolfish grin that pulled at his lips when Kurapika responded to his words with clear despair. Out of all of the terrifying things he had ever considered, Kurapika hadn't considered you being bound to his greatest enemy. Killing Chrollo suddenly became a dangerous option as he knew how omegas could die of sorrow if any harm befalls their mate. The last thing Kurapika wanted to do was hurt you.

"I'm sure you know that the only way you can kill Chrollo and not (Y/n) is if they have another mate by the time you kill him. I'm happy to volunteer as that replacement."

Despite how Kurapika didn't want to let Hisoka anywhere near you, he had to genuinely consider the proposition. If he killed Chrollo, he would kill you should you have no other mate to rely on. Kurapika knew how fragile omegas were and he knew how the well-being of an omega's mate could determine the well-being of the omega themselves. Either Kurapika needed to keep Chrollo alive- which was a detestable thought- or he needed to find and implement a replacement mate for you to survive losing Chrollo.

It was a lose-lose situation for Kurapika and he hated that the spiders put him and his twin through so much continued suffering. He would save you no matter what.

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adviceformefromme · 5 months

Text

How to re-programme your subconscious mind…(tried and tested)

When the retreats don’t seem to have a lasting effect, you’ve done therapy, prayed, been to see healers, meditated… but for the life of you, stilllll have wounds so deep that they might appear to be resolved but the moment you meet someone who is wow you suddenly feel unworthy. Maybe not even suddenly, but your relationship wounds are running deep. Relationships trigger you. You end up feeling the same 90% of the time. Unlovable, unwanted, and rejected. The key to remember is that it started with you. With the mind, with your thinking. At whatever point in your childhood (or even later) you took on the belief that you're not worthy, your needs were not met. You took on behaviours that play out still to this day. Maybe it was hiding yourself, maybe it was lashing out? Whatever it is, the same way it started with you, with your thinking, with your processing of events. Is the same way you heal your self. Here are some steps:

1] Forgiveness. Forgiveness is going to free you from your past. Write a list of all the people and situations that caused you pain from your earliest memory to this very day. Whatever pains are etched in your mind, write them down. Once your list is collated, start going through each scenario, sending love and forgiveness to yourself and whoever was involved. Imagine yourself as a loving carer healing the parts of you that were vulnerable, hurt and not safe. Visualise giving yourself love in each scenario. Creating peace. Once you’ve been through a scenario and feel truly at peace with the situation scribble it out and once you are completely done with the papers you can burn them and set yourself free. (this process can take weeks / months depending how long your list is but it's not to be rushed).

2] Whatever is still lingering, use your journal to clear this out. For example, if I asked you right now if the man of your dreams was to appear.. would you feel worthy? Right now as your are? It might not be a man, it might be a job, a salary. Whatever it is, start challenging your old beliefs. You might not feel pretty enough, you might not feel like you are deserving… whatever it is start questioning old ideas you have about yourself. Challenge them..

3] This is the most important step… Once you’ve done the above. You’ll start to see some themes, maybe in your forgiveness list you realised your voice didn’t matter as a child, and that you were silenced, and that you hid yourself as a way to feel safe…whatever you uncover.

3.1 - You are going to write a script, in simple terms - something a child would understand and make sense of and you’re going to write out new beliefs to re-programme your mind. Example ‘I am willing to forgive those who hurt me, I am willing to forgive myself for the hurt I went through, I am no longer hiding myself from the world, I am choosing to be seen , to be celebrated, I am allowing my voice to be heard, my true voice, I matter’ - you want to cover all basis. Every old belief about not being enough, you need to re-write.

3.2 - Record yourself on your phone in a very slow peaceful loving tone reading your script.

3.3 - You need to listen to this recording every single night for at least 1-4 weeks. (It’s usually 21 days, but I did a recording for 1 week on feeling safe and I felt truly healed as if it was a miracle). I was able to LOOP the recording using Mac...I sent the voice recording from my iPhone to my MacBook using airdrop and then opened the sound file in iTunes and pressed repeat. This allowed a short recording to loop all night as I slept. It’s really important to play this on a loop as you want to IMPRESS your subconscious mind with the new beliefs. It’s your own voice, its your own re-wiring.

I hope this helps! The deeper healing work is crucial if you really want to remove those old wounds that seem to be stuck and not budging!

#manifestyourreality #levelupjourney #levelup #levelup confidence lawofattraction powerofthemind #manifesting #manifest #growthmindset #lawofattraction #manifestingmindset #subconciousmind #subconscious #subconscioushealing

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vibingandsimping · 9 months

Note

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

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imaginesmai · 4 months

Text

Promises to keep (2) - Azriel

Part 1

Plot: you and Azriel try to make it out of your captivity in time. With your powers discovered, is up to you to survive enough to save him - and with your powers draining, is up to him to save you.

Warnings: blood and violence, again.

You weren’t the first one to move. Stories about your parents’ death, hunted and slaughtered for their powers, terrified you until you couldn’t force yourself to move. Safe in Velaris, you had never wondered the consequences of a power like yours in such a selfish world.

When the first fae lunched at you, it was Azriel who made her trip with his crippled leg to the ground. His years of training and war showed themselves when the woman didn’t utter another breath, her neck broken in a terrible angle. Your mate growled like a storm, promising death to whoever came close to you.

That thought, Azriel facing them hurt and defenseless, was enough to spur you into action – and everyone else. You weren’t a warrior, not like him. Hadn’t been trained in your power in fear someone would sense it and come for you. You were clumsy, untrained and tired, but you were powerful.

It was blur of blood, iron and light.

Your goal was clear – not to let them close to Azriel. He could defend himself, maybe, for a few minutes. But you weren’t stupid enough to believe he could win against trained soldiers in the state he was in. So you fought, with your power, nails and teeth.

A knife sliced through your collarbone and someone kicked your knee to make you fall. They were blasted away before you touched the ground, only to be replaced by an arm around your throat and a punch against your stomach.

You lost your breath and the light disappeared, and you couldn’t get it back. Not with the male behind you chocking the life out of you, arm and fingers pressing over your windpipe. You wondered briefly if he could break your neck, crush your throat, with just his grip, but he was pushed off you before you could wonder farther.

Azriel’s pained inhale made your light explode, and then everything was silent.

You fell to the ground and curled yourself in a tight ball, your ears ringing. It felt as if every part of your body was covered by fried nerves, the feel of the ground on your skin sickening. Old wounds reopened by the sheer force of your power, blood coming out of them.

The pain and overwhelming feelings weren’t enough obstacle to realize there were no other heartbeats but Azriel’s and yours.

You never used your power, and you were ready to never use them again. The next breath was forced into your lungs when Azriel hastily turned you over and pain wrecked your body. He had a new gash on his forehead, and was covered in blood that wasn’t his.

“Look at me” he grabbed your cheeks and only dared himself to flinch at the obvious pain in your gaze. “You need to breath. You’re not breathing – Y/N! Now!”

He physically recoiled when he moved you, knowing what it would do to your sensitive body. But he had to shake you out of your stupor before it was too late. You finally took a shaky breath and kept hyperventilating, not tearing your gaze away from him.

That was what he had always feared. That you would be forced to use it, because of him, because he wasn’t able to protect you. He had trained harder for centuries, had assured your safety after you found refuge in his court and he became your protector, your friend, your mate and lover. Watching your body rigid with pain and shock, watching you kill those fae for him, was threatening to pull him under another wave of panic and terror.

“Listen to me” he exhaled, his whole body screaming at the movement. “The male – he’s gone. He has managed to get out and he’s coming back. You need to leave. The door is open and –“

“I killed them” you stated, not looking around but smelling their blood.

“It was either them or us. You saved us” Azriel allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, pushing the spy out of him and bringing the caring mate you needed. “I know you are scared. I am scared. And when all of this is over, we can be scared together. But I need you to run, darling, because I can’t hold them off forever when they come back. Don’t look back. Listen for any sound and choose the opposite direction. And if it comes between you and them, you burn this place down”

Those words took you out of your shock, because burning that place down meant burning him with it. Yet you realized he hadn’t included himself in that certain part of the plan, because he was asking you to run without him.

Through fried nerve ends and rigid limbs, you found it in you to be furious. To want to berate for hours about him being a selfless idiot and punch some sense into him. Instead of doing that, you rose up until you were kneeling on shaky limbs. Your burnt hands were bleeding all over again, pressed against the tiles of the cell in an effort to keep you conscious.

You brushed Azriel’s worried hand off your shoulder and got up only blacking out for a few seconds. The cell rotated around you, lights and shadows behind your eyelids.

By the time you could orientate yourself, you noticed Azriel had gotten up too using just one leg, and was keeping you straight between himself and the wall.

“I’m not going to leave you” you stated.

“My love” he used that damned nickname, knowing it made you weak in the knees. “You have to. I can buy you enough time for you to go out. I can’t… you have to”

Looking down, you fixed your gaze on his leg. The sight of open, seeping wounds and sticking bones was enough to tremble your world, and if you looked at his wings, it would only be worse. But you swallowed the lump around your throat and shook your head.

“We are walking out of this cell together, or we wait here together. I’m not gonna leave you”

You couldn’t stop shaking your head, couldn’t stop your voice from trembling. Because living without Azriel would be worse than dying in that cell without him. He seemed to understand he wouldn’t be winning that argument, so he nodded softly. He didn’t protest when you used part of your power as a crutch to keep him steady, when you wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward.

Azriel could only look at you swallowing down your pain and wish the Cauldron was merciful enough to keep you safe when he was gone.

He couldn’t identify where you were, because the hallways looked the same. No windows, no rooms. Just walls and ceilings and floors of stone and marble, right and left, long and short. Each step felt like a race against time, and Azriel was aware that you weren’t winning. Without him, you could move at a limited speed. He had seen what using your power meant, after you barely escaped your captors when he found you centuries ago.

Without him, you would be able to walk fast, maybe jog at certain time without rest. But you were holding onto him as if he was the one carrying both of you. You held his weight and used part of your power to keep him straight enough not to fall.

Azriel kept looking behind his shoulder, waiting to see them coming at you. His heart jumped in his throat when he heard a noise, but so far, you had only found two patrols that you had taken care of. The first one was easy – after the second, he had to help you sit down against the wall and wait impatiently for you regain conscious.

“Don’t fall back” he reminded you, even though it was pointless. Your body was slacking off and his was too. “One step at a time”

“I’m trying” your breath came in pants.

“Drop my leg”

“Shut up”

For the fifth time, you refused to let that little help go, even if that was the last remain of your strength. You could do it on your own, you could get out of there without him, but Azriel understood that he wouldn’t. Trying to convince you otherwise, trying to make you see that it was pointless, would be wasting a time that you didn’t have.

So his hope lay on the faebane.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast nor lunch, which was starting to take a toll on his already mangled body. But that meant he hadn’t had faebane in his body for a while. And now, out of that damn cell, he could try to use his powers without risking your life.

He was already starting to feel the bond back, waves of nausea and pain that weren’t his coming in steady waves. Azriel had blocked his part, but you were too busy to notice yours. So he swallowed the stinging of your burned hands, the tightness of your body and the cut on your collarbone.

You didn’t waste time either talking, nor trying to plan your escape. By the time you had escaped the fourth patrol, Azriel was the one carrying you. You didn’t argue when you were lowered to the ground once more, his scarred hand brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

“I’m not going to drop it” you reminded him, your eyes half-closed. You had never used to much power, but were ready to see where it took you. “Nor leave you”

“Got the point a couple of hours ago. How are you feeling?” he asked, leaving his hand covering your cheek. While you got worse with each minute, Azriel had gained some of his strength and power back. “Tell me how can I help”

“It feels like I’m being turned inside out” you told him honestly, no point in lying when both of your lives were at risk. “I’m hot but shivering, my whole body vibrated and it… I’m tired”

“Let’s get this jacket off, hm?”

You noticed he was still stiff and hurt, but he managed to brush his own jacket off your body and use part of it to clean the dried blood from your face. You closed your eyes against his touch, his warmth. If you drifted far enough, you could pretend you were back in Velaris, Azriel brushing the hair off your face while you fell asleep.

Memories from your relationship filled your mind. The first time you met, how scared you had been and how kind the winged stranger had been. The weeks of healing and explaining, his presence always by your side. Moments together in your shared cabin, taken from granted. If you tried enough, you could pretend you were locked in one of them.

Azriel’s voice brought you back to the present. He tried giving you a reassuring smile, but you could see in his eyes that he had been talking for a while and you hadn’t answered. That he was beyond worried.

“Back with me?” he asked, always gentle.

“Yeah” you looked towards the end of another hallway. “We should keep going. It must end somewhere”

“Rhys is coming” Azriel blurted out, making you slightly more aware. “He must have noticed our presences without the faebane, but I sent some shadows. Just in case. He’s coming, so you just hold on, alright?”

“I can’t feel it” you frowned.

Azriel didn’t bother pointing out that with the drain of your power it was a mystery how you were still conscious. He had watched you twice now lose consciousness, only to come back moments later with your gaze a little darker. Every inch of his power was directed at his high lord, at his brother, because he knew he wouldn’t be getting you out of there on his own.

You stared at him in silence. In a matter of hours, things had changed – Azriel could now walk without your help, a little trembling, but he could manage. His wings were still useless and he almost blacked out too when he rotated his shoulder. Still, things had changed. Because now it was him who stood a chance of making it out, while you dampened in front of him.

It was pointless to turn the tables and ask him to leave, so you decided to give it a rest. You retreated your power from his leg and sagged against the wall. Certainly, you felt like there wasn’t anything left of you.

“Hold on. And that’s an order, not a promise”

“So bossy”

Azriel smiled with silver lines under his bruised eyes. He leaned forward and, for the first time since you were taken, pressed his lips against yours. The kiss tasted like blood, yours or his you couldn’t know. They were gentle and soft, despite the many times his lips had been opened by an angry fist.

He cupped your cheek, as if it was the first time you kissed, and brushed his tongue against your lower lip. Before he could deepen it, he moved his mouth to the corner of yours. To your lower cheek, then to your upper part. He kissed each and every part of your face, gathering the scared tears you were finally letting free.

Your breath hiccupped as you finally let yourself feel afraid. That you might not make it out, that the power you had used killed people with families, that your body was drained and ready to give out. That, if you blinked for too long, no one assured you that Azriel would be breathing when you opened them again.

You rose your hand and closed it around his wrist. If you made it out, you would have matching scars, but that was the least of your worries. Your burns needed treatment, and you didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. Still, he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay” you begged him, the sight of him blurry with tears. “Just one time”

“I promise it’ll be okay” he lied without hesitation, knowing he couldn’t make you that promise. Even if you made it out, he knew it wouldn’t be fine. “You promise me to hold on a little longer”

You fell quiet, blinking slowly. Could you promise him that, though? Could you gather strength to lie to him one more time? Just as you were, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. You wouldn’t get up that time. Even if you tried, all you would gather was a brief flick of light. And he would try, you were certain, to get up, and maybe would hold them for a while.

Swallowing down, you nodded and whispered your promise.

Azriel was all you could feel and see for a moment. His hazel eyes, filled with worry and sorrow and guilt, so much more guilt that any person should carry. His soft freckles, that were covered by stains of blood. Dark locks of hair fell over his face, greasy and tangled, but they couldn’t cover the beauty of your mate.

He still held your face on the palm of his hand and you still gripped his wrist. If you had to die, you guessed, you didn’t mind doing it staring at him. And he must have thought the same, because his shoulders sagged in relief and his eyes softened.

His mouth moved, saying something. I love you seemed worthy of the moment, but you didn’t hear it. Only white noise and static. His smile dropped and his eyebrows scrunched when he repeated himself and you didn’t move.

You must had been worthy in any other life, because suddenly there were two beautiful copies of your mate in front of you, both of them equally worried. Before you blinked one last time, you saw Azriel’s face scrunching in horror, a kind hand making him step sideways.

Worried violet eyes were the last thing you remembered before blacking out.

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hihhasotherfixations · 1 year

Text

Tattoo Blossom - Price x Reader | Part 1

AU where your soulmate’s injuries appear on your skin like a blooming flower tattoo.

Part 1 | Part 2

Thank you @flop101 for helping me come up with the idea for this soulmate au!

CW: None. Reader has no gender specified. Slight talk of injury.

Word Count: 6087

It always started with a sudden pressure.

Sitting at work, you groaned softly as you lifted your hand, pressing it on your left sternum to alleviate the pain.

“Y/N, you alright?” Your coworker asked as they leaned over and you sent them a smile you didn’t really mean.

“Just fine, don’t worry. I’m… just gonna head to the restroom.” With that, you stood up from your chair and hurriedly walked across the office, towards the toilets.

Once inside, you made a beeline for the mirrors, unbuttoning your shirt slightly before pulling the fabric away from your sternum.

Right there, perfectly above the bone, sat a small black and white bud. It was small and tear drop-shaped, just like every flower started out as. It made it impossible to tell what type of flower it was yet.

Sighing softly, you thumbed over the imprint on your skin, a worry line present in the creasing of your brow.

“What did you do this time…” Muttering it softly, your eyes glazed over as you looked at the small tattoo.

Somewhere in the world, your soulmate had gotten hurt again. And while you had a beautiful, black outlined flower bud, he most likely had a gaping wound.

Closing your eyes, you let your shirt fall back into place. You just hoped the flower would bloom soon. After all, the bud becoming a flower signified his healing - his wound becoming a scar. And you’d be glad once it was in full bloom, meaning he was fully healed. And you’d also be able to see what you’d add to the collection.

After all, not every flower was the same kind.

From the myriad of them that littered your body, each one seemed to correspond to a specific sort of injury.

You’d read somewhere once that that’s where flowers got their meanings from. The reason for an injury.

You’d figured out some. How could you not?The petals covered you from chest to toe - thankfully avoiding your face for now - so of course you’d get curious.

They sprouted all over your body, some small, some larger. There was even a row of them on your forearm.

While most flowers were different however, there were those that repeated. And the most frequent were the Tansy’s.

You’d looked it up once. Tansy’s were flowers that signified hostile thoughts and the declaring of war.

Whatever else you held on your body, at least these flowers gave an answer. Whoever your soulmate was, wherever he was, he was at war.

And he’d been so for the past 19 years.

- - - - -

John Price often forgot he had a soulmate.

Only about 20% of the population did and with his busy life, thinking about that little flower on the back of his right ankle was far from the forefront of his mind.

It was easier to forget. Not only to hide his heartache but also to hide his guilt.

After all, what use was a soulmate if all they did was paint your skin against your will. Filling in your body with marks and filling up your mind with worry over what your soulmate did to get wounded so much.

So instead, John chose to forget. To leave the guilt and want out and instead focus on the missions in front of him. None of the boys in the task force knew, not even Nikolai knew. Laswell had only found out several years ago when he’d joined her and her wife for a camping trip.

Purely by accident too.

The three of them had been hiking when John’s boot slipped in a mud puddle, causing his ankle to make a very dangerous move to the side. Cursing and hissing, he’d limped over to a dry patch and taken off his boot, yanking his sock down to inspect his ankle, only to be stared in the face with the flower he’d done so well to forget until then. Right in Laswell’s sight.

The rest of that trip had soured explicitly for the SAS captain, constantly hounded with questions by Laswell’s wife - who seemed rather enthused - while the woman herself berated him every step of the way.

Now however, he was back in England, having just returned from killing Hassan and stopping a missile.

Sitting on a chair, he was struggling with putting on his boot, hissing with every move of his left arm that caused the gunshot by his sternum to scream in pain.

“Y’alright, cap?” Soap’s voice piped up as he leaned back on the couch, looking at the man while Ghost pushed the Scot’s legs off of himself in irritation (it was a dangerous game Johnny was playing.)

“Need some help?” Gaz now asked, standing in the doorway and Price looked up, glaring at the two men. Though he knew it came from a place of concern, it highly wounded his pride.

“And have either of you blokes tie my shoe like I’m some kid?” He scoffed, not gracing them with another look as he focused on the blasted boot again.

“There’s many more reasons to tie someone’s shoe.” Gaz protested, displeased by his captain’s stubbornness.

“Like what?”

“Like when your missus does it for you!” Soap piped up with a wide grin, getting a glare from Gaz for having his point interrupted, though Price just deadpanned.

“So a mother and a missus can tie a shoe and I have neither, how nice.” He rumbled back, slamming his foot down now to try and get his heel down into it, properly annoyed.

“Ah, that’s-“ Before Soap could continue to horribly try and rectify what he brought into the world, Ghost smacked him on the back of his head.

“Shut up, Johnny.”

“What I was trying to say.” Gaz stepped in before it could turn into a fight. “None of us will think any different of you if you ask for help every once in a while. Especially when you’re injured.” The sergeant tried but right then, Price managed to get the boot on, quickly tying it as best as he could with his limited movement.

“Well, I got it. So thanks a lot, lads, but no need.” The man hummed as he got up, grunting a bit as he accidentally strained the muscles of his shoulder. “Let’s get going, I need that drink.”

- - - -

“I’m really not feeling up for this.” You sighed softly, holding your shirt up to your chest.

For the past ten or so minutes, you’d been staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes grazing over every flower that littered your body.

The large snapdragon in your side, the holly’s in your right thigh and abdomen, the hyssops marking three places on your torso, the anemone in the middle of your chest, the chain of several lily’s below your elbow. Not even to mention the tansy’s that sprouted everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your shoulders, your arms.

And now the beginning bloom of a new flower above your sternum. All you could think about was how your soulmate had been injured again.

And how you feared the day that the flowers would wilt.

To you, the tattoos on your skin were a blessing and a curse. You didn’t mind them. It showed you had someone out there who was perfect for you - a missing puzzle piece you could slot together with. Not everyone got that privilege.

But who was to say you’d ever meet them? And while every flower that showed up was beautiful, it signalled your soulmate being hurt. And given you were almost entirely sure he was in the army, it meant those injuries were usually bad. You almost didn’t dare to count the amount of gunshot wounds, signified on your body as a singular small flower - so long as it didn’t have an exit point.

“Y/N, come on!” It was your friend pounding her fist on your bedroom door that made you snap out of your reverie. “You’ve been stuck at work for too long. You need a night out.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled the red shirt you’d been holding over your head. It had sleeves reaching until halfway down your forearm, hiding almost all the flowers on your torso save for a single lily on your left arm. About two third’s of it showed while the rest of the chain was hidden. That was one of the largest patches of flowers and you’d long since given up trying to hide it.

Throwing on some jeans to match, you then swung the door open before Sarah could bash her fist into it again - which was an accurate thought as she stood there with her arm raised, ready to raise hell.

“Oh!” She startled before looking you over and groaning. “Again?” She whined, picking at your sleeve and letting it snap back against your arm.

“Ow, hey.” You chuckled, slapping her hand away before crossing your arms. “I’m not gonna flaunt myself in front of an entire bar. Leave me alone.” Shaking your head in amusement, you walked past her, making her fall into step behind you.

“You’re in your thirties and yet still you’re saving yourself like a nun. For a soldier? Didn’t he just give you a new one yesterday?” She whined and you sent an unimpressed look back over your shoulder, raising a brow.

“Ah yes, because he was given a gunshot wound as well.”

“There!” Sarah pointed at you as if to say ‘aha’. “You immediately know it’s a gunshot wound. Like how bad is that?”

“Just as bad as this miniskirt.” You grinned, poking her hip.

Gasping a little, she jumped away. “My skirt is not bad! I can wear what I want!” She protested and you gave her a smug look.

“Exactly.” After that however, you calmed a bit and grabbed her hand, running your thumb over it. “I don’t think it right to display someone else’s injuries. It’s a private thing, something he probably doesn’t want to talk about.”

“You’re too good for whoever this guy is.”

Laughing at Sarah’s pout, you swung your arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go get that drink then, hm? Get your mind off of me and my depressing ‘love’ life.”

Crossing her arms, she let you drag her away to the door, never letting up on her pout. “Fine.”

With that, the two of you headed out and towards the nearest pub, laughing and joking as you walked - after all, driving was out of the option for what you were planning for the evening.

- - - -

It was a lot busier in the bar than you’d expected.

Some type of football game was on and people had come out en masse to celebrate together, which left the large room stuffed relatively full with people.

Stumbling over to the bar with your best friend, you by some miracle managed to snatch two spots.

Sitting up on the high chairs, you both ordered a drink before settling into comfortable conversation.

“See anyone you fancy?”

Sarah’s sudden question had you spluttering into your glass before you glared at her. “Really?”

Blinking innocently, she just smiled at you and you playfully rolled your eyes. “I see someone you might fancy.” At that, she frowned and you nodded your head to something behind her.

Getting the hint, she turned around to see a man looking at her. Right as she crossed eyes though, he quickly looked away and she turned back to face you with a slight blush. “Alright so maybe you know my type.”

“Heads up.” You smirked as you watched him get up, goaded on by his friends and Sarah widened her eyes before quickly fixing her hair.

“I look okay?”

“You look great.” You chuckled, bumping your knee into her before turning to face the wood of the bar top right as Sarah turned around to greet the man.

Though you came here to have some fun together, you knew Sarah was a huge flirt. You also didn’t mind, perfectly content to enjoy a drink with your thoughts and people watching.

So, leaving her to her devices, you just politely tuned out the conversation on your right while smiling to yourself. Maybe this time, the man was a keeper.

“Excuse me?”

A good twenty minutes passed before the sudden words made you blink out of your thoughts, looking left to see a man about your age looking at you, a polite look on his face.

“Mind if I scoot in?” He asked kindly and you looked around, realising the entire bartop was filled with people.

“No, of course.” Smiling back at him, you scooted your chair right to make some room for him, which he quickly took as he stepped up and flagged down a bartender.

He had a pleasant look to him; head hidden under a black beanie, a weathered but kind face and muttonchops that fit him strangely well.

Thinking not much of it, you rolled your glass between your hands a bit, turning your brain off as you watched the bartender make… what was it- four drinks for the man?

Your gaze drifted a bit back and forth after that, until suddenly, a crash sounded to your left and a cold sensation splashed onto your arm.

“Oh-!” Yipping that out in surprise, you looked wide eyed to see the man frown down at the small tray he was trying to balance with one hand, one of the drinks fallen over and the contents dripping onto your arm.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” The man sent you an apologetic look as he quickly set the tray back on the bartop, to which you quickly waved him away.

“It just caught my sleeve, it’s okay!” You smiled, looking down at your arm to see the wet stain in the fabric. “I’ll just-“

“Here, let me.” He reached over the bar to his left - strangely enough using his right hand for it - and pressed some tissues to your soaked forearm.

“Ah, thank you.” You hummed, seeing him give you a tiny smile before his attention was taken by the bartender who placed a new glass in front of him which he paid for.

Quickly thanking the bartender, the man then briefly put his hand on your arm. “So sorry again. Have a good evening.” With a polite nod, he pulled away and slid the tray from the bar top into his hand - more careful this time - before he balanced it and made his way deeper into the pub.

Not thinking anything of it, you reached forward to nurse your own glass once more when a heat suddenly spread across your arm.

Frowning, you looked down. Was that drink he spilled hot? No, you distinctly felt it being cold just now.

Reaching down, you pinched your sleeve between your fingers, feeling how damp it was, yet all of a sudden, your heart seemed to stop as your eyes focused on what was going on on your skin behind your fingers.

There, on your arm, blossoming with heat, sat your lily. Your orange lily.

Breathing shallowly, you mindlessly reached back, slapping in the general direction of your best friend, managing to whack her on the back as she was still chatting up the man.

“Y/N, what-“ Her annoyed hiss was cut off when she saw you staring, wide eyed and almost panicked at your arm, where your flower was now nearly a bright orange - the colour almost completely faded in. “I- Oh my god!”

Loudly crying that out, the bar seemed to stop for a second as those around turned in concern, only for your friend to jump up from her stool and drag you down with it to hug you, jumping and laughing excitedly, putting the people back at ease as they continued their conversations.

“Please, keep your voice down!” You panicked but she seemed nonplussed as she pulled back and kept you at an arms length.

“Who is it! Who touched you? Y/N, your soulmate is here!” Her babbling didn’t stop as she pulled you closer and shook you by your shoulders before frantically looking around. “You do know who touched you, right?”

At that, you stopped briefly, your heart hammering as you turned around to look behind yourself, searching the crowd for the strange man with the black beanie and muttonchops.

It took a bit, but you eventually found him, tucked away nearly completely in the corner of the pub where he sat with his comrades, his back turned to where you were seated.

“Which one?” Your friend asked, trying to follow your line of sight and you bit your lip.

“Table of four. With the- with the hat.” You mumbled and she squinted, trying to find who you meant.

“I see no hat.”

“Black beanie.” You clarified and she squinted again, only to start slapping your arm.

“I see him, I see him!” She giggled before taking a closer look, humming in what seemed like approval. “He seems buff. Which makes sense if he’s in the military I guess, but look at those shoulders.”

Turning around, almost incredulous, you slapped her on the arm. “Would you stop ogling him!”

“You’re too much of a prude to do that, so I’m doing it for you.” She shrugged with a mischievous grin and you poked her side.

“Stop it.”

Giggling, she then slowly calmed down, her smile turning warm. Carefully, she moved to stand behind you, beginning to push you forward. “Go talk to him.” Her voice was soft in your ear and you felt your heart speed up.

“B-But-“

“If you don’t do it now, he might be gone.”

Just those words were enough to stop your struggling.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Sarah smiled as she softly whispered that and you breathed out a shaky breath.

“I just…”

“I know.” She hummed comfortingly, turning you around to face her before cupping your face. “He’s your soulmate. That means he is the one for you, Y/N. No matter what, he’ll listen. I’m sure he will.”

“You are?” You asked, your eyes going a little foggy and Sarah smiled fondly, rubbing her thumb over the corner of your eye.

“He’s yours. I know what you’re like and the universe picked him out for you. He’ll listen.”

Nodding softly, you leaned forward and hugged your best friend, composing yourself before pulling back and huffing out a breath, feigning more confidence than you had.

“I can finally say: go get ‘em, tiger.” Sarah spoke from behind with a squeeze to your arm.

At that, a soft and pleasant laugh left you and you playfully punched her shoulder. “All this time and that is the best you can come up with?”

Rolling her eyes with a grin, she then twirled you around and pushed you forward, making you send a playful glare back at her to which she stuck out her tongue.

After that though, you looked forward, seeing him at the far back of the pub and your heart slowly started speeding up, realising that this was finally gonna be the moment.

Slowly, you began walking, weaving through the tables and other patrons of the pub until it was a straight shot to his table.

Walking up to him from behind, you could feel your heartbeat rushing in your ears, your nerves alight and almost painful as they battered in your chest and stomach.

Swallowing softly, you were hugging yourself, unconsciously covering up the now coloured flower as with each step closer, it almost felt like you were getting tunnel vision - purely focused on the back of his beanie-covered head.

It was said that the universe found a way to bring two soulmates into contact, but was this really it? Was this it or were you imagining things. Were you mistaken?

Though he might not have noticed your approach, the men he was sitting at the table with sure did.

One of them - a hulking figure wearing a balaclava - glanced up, locking eyes with you which snapped you out of your tunnel vision. He quickly glanced at your soulmate and back at you, some sort of unspoken signal as, before you knew it, the man with the beanie turned around, facing you.

It looked a little stiff as he did and you caught a glimpse of bandaging under his loose hanging shirt. On the left side, where your flower bud sat too.

His eyes locked with yours and with horror, you realised you had to speak. In his eyes, you’d just stalked up behind him and were now just standing there like a limp chair.

“Uhm, excuse me…” You started softly, feeling your heart thud at the lame start though you could see him smile politely. One that you would give to strangers when humouring them, which is exactly what you were.

“How can I help you, love? Is it the drink?” He spoke and you clenched your hands as you hugged yourself tighter, hearing his voice gravelly and deep yet sounding so soft at the same time.

“Uh, no… it-“ You started as you shook your head. Just then, you were bumped into from behind.

Stumbling a bit, you caught yourself and looked back, realising how full the pub was, how his friends all had their eyes on you, and you suddenly knew this was no place to drop the bomb of being soulmates.

“Could I… talk to you for a moment? Outside?” You asked, uncrossing your left arm and pointing behind yourself at the door, nervousness apparent in every fiber of your being.

It must have been evident to him too, seeing how skittish you were, yet you could still see an awkward frown briefly paint his face, seeming not very thrilled with that idea as you could already see the rejection on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry but I came here with these boys and I can’t really-“

“Please, it’s important.” You begged, sinking a bit through your knees in your desperation.

Narrowing his eyes, your soulmate looked back at the men who sat with him at the table, who all seemed either confused or distrusting of you. He then looked back at you and you could see an intelligence shining in him as he took you and the past two minutes in. “And it has to be me?” He asked, pointing at himself to which you fervently nodded.

“I just- I need to say a thing. But it has to be in private- but you can go back here as soon as you want to!” You blabbered and his features softened a bit.

“You’re not selling me on this very well.” He chuckled before scratching the side of his beard. “Look, I’m not looking for any… Y’know.” He awkwardly got out and you felt the blood drain from your face.

“No, no! It’s not like that, I promise!”

Sitting back a bit, he seemed to take you and your frantic response in for a second before sighing and nodding. “Alright.” With that, he pushed himself up from his chair, turning back to his table.

“Don’t take too long, cap. This drink ain’t gonna last much further and I’d like another.” A man with a Scottish accent to his left spoke with a grin.

‘Cap’ as you got from the Scot, rolled his eyes and pointedly shoved his own glass towards the man with the balaclava. “Touch my scotch and I’ll have your head, MacTavish. And buy your own drink for once.” With that, he pointedly turned around and faced you, motioning for you to lead the way. “Go on.”

Licking your teeth nervously, you nodded and turned around, weaving between the plethora of people and walking over towards the exit of the bar, stepping out into the night sky.

Goosebumps raised on your skin as you heard him step out beside you.

“Mind if I smoke?” He asked and you turned back, only managing to shake your head, to which he hummed as he pulled up a cigar and planted it between his lips, proceeding to grab a lighter from his pocket and lighting it. Yet you took note of how he pointedly only used his right arm. “What was it you needed?”

Turning to him, you stared into his eyes while he looked back, curiosity and wariness both evident while his face lit up with the soft glow from his cigar.

“Uhm… you touched me.”

At that, he coughed slightly, taking the smoke out of his mouth as he looked at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I-“ Too scared to say anything else, you just lifted your hand away from your arm, ceasing your self-hug for the first time since he noticed you. Carefully, you held it out to him, using the street light across the way to show the newfound colours.

Looking from your arm up at him, you saw he was looking down at the flowers. The orange lily blooming halfway up your forearm, still partially hidden by your sleeve.

His face was void of any expression, staying blank as he moved his cigar to his left hand before he slowly reached out with his right, grabbing hold of your forearm to inspect it, his thumb ever so lightly brushing over the tattoo before he glanced up at you.

His expression was still unreadable and you panicked despite Sarah’s reassurances. You didn’t want to be one of the sob stories where you found your soulmate but got rejected or not believed. “Y-You’re injured. Here, right?” You mumbled quickly, pulling down the neckline of your shirt a bit to show the slightly blooming bud above your sternum.

At that, the man seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in as realisation seemed to dawn on him.

His eyes widened as he let go of you, to which you panicked even more, raising your shirt over your stomach to reveal the snapdragon in your side - the other biggest patch of flowers you had. “Here, I have more, see?”

“Hey.” Speaking up, he quickly reached forward and pulled your hands away, tugging your shirt back down. “Hey, it’s okay. Just slow down for me, yeah?” He reassured, a calm and firm tone that had you taking the first proper breath of air in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry-“ You huffed out and his eyes crinkled softly as he briefly rubbed the side of your arm before stepping back.

“This is…” Cutting himself off, he seemed to shake any shock away, instead focusing back on your eyes. “Bloody hell.”

He just stared at you for a moment, taking a deep breath before he cleared his throat.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” He mused, sticking out his right hand. “My name’s John Price.”

Smiling a smile of relief, you put your hand in his. “Y/N L/N.” You introduced back and his smile grew a bit under his beard.

“Sorry for spilling my drink on you. And for the cold opening earlier.” He apologised as he let go but you quickly waved his statement away.

“Don’t worry about it! A stranger walks up to you and practically forces you outside with them? I’d freak.” You chuckled, rubbing your arm a bit awkwardly.

“You didn’t force me, don’t worry.” John reassured, only now seeming to remember he had a cigar as he took it from his incapacitated hand.

The movement caught your eye however and you frowned. “Does it hurt?” Your voice was soft as you asked him but he still heard.

Looking from where you were watching, down to his sternum, he hummed a bit. “Like a bitch, but nothing I haven’t been through before. Don’t worry.”

At that, you smiled a little sorrowful smile, whispering softly. “I know.”

Your words - just those two dreadful words - made John’s eyes widen as he glanced down at your arm again, a remorseful and almost pained look overtaking him.

Putting out his cigar, he gingerly moved his hand to your left arm before glancing up at you. “May I?”

You nodded and he took hold of your forearm, his left hand moving for the first time as he ever so carefully slid your sleeve up and past your elbow, revealing the entire string of lilies that stretched from the middle of your forearm, around and to below your elbow.

One lily now partially coloured orange.

“I’m so sorry for this.”

His apology took you by surprise and you looked up at his face, seeing his eyes purely focused on your arm. Slowly, you felt the slightest brush of a touch, followed immediately by a warmth crawling under your skin.

Glancing down, you saw his thumb gently moving back and forth over the partially coloured lily, specifically the part that was still just an outline.

It took a minute for it to react, the heat only growing under your skin the longer he held his thumb there and together, you watched in awe as slowly, the rest of the lily filled with colour, fading into existence on your skin.

Just then, his apology from before filled your mind and you spoke up, still keeping your eyes on where he was holding your arm. Seemingly too reserved to continue to fill the other lilies with colour.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked and he answered almost instantly - too fast.

“I fucked your body up for you.” He spoke, letting go of your arm as he cleared his throat. The harsh reality of his own conviction breaking the trance the coloured flower had put him in. “Because of me, you’re walking around with this.” He spoke, turning your arm a bit to show you yet you countered quick.

“So are you.” You spoke but he let out a wry chuckle at that, shaking his head.

“I chose to do what I do. My scars should be my burden to bear, not yours.” He sighed, an emotion swirling in his eyes that you couldn’t discern. He looked into yours like that for a second longer, almost as if to find something within you before he gave up and cast his eyes down. “I pay the price for my mistakes and I’ve accepted it. But I really wish I didn’t get a soulmate because of it. You don’t deserve this, love.”

“You don’t want a soulmate?” You asked softly, your eyebrows scrunching in worry and John quickly straightened himself.

“That’s not what I said.” He hushed you, holding up his hand. “Hell, I never thought love was in the cards for me until I saw that I was one of the few to get flowers.” Confessing that, he rubbed the back of his head, accidentally displacing his beanie a bit - which he took a second to fix.

“You have a flower?” You whispered softly, a strangely hopeful look in your eyes that made John’s heart beat just a bit faster.

“On my ankle.” He hummed, bringing his right foot just a little bit forward. Entranced, you brought your own forward as well, turning it around to show your bare ankle visible above your loafers. There, right above the heel sat the scar that ran from one end of your ankle to the other.

“I forgot I had that.” You whispered while John looked at the scar, smiling softly as he finally saw what he had mirrored on his body.

“I would show you the flower but I’m wearing quite the stubborn boot.” He chuckled as he turned it back and forth a bit for emphasis and you smiled, glancing up at his eyes again. “How’d you get it?”

At his question, a little blush bloomed on your cheeks that had John begging to see it more, now intrigued. “Ah, well funny thing.” You hummed, scratching at your neck awkwardly. “My friend let me try out his skateboard after I made a joke it didn’t seem so hard. I somehow tripped, broke it and sliced my ankle open on the pieces.”

It took only a second for John to suddenly burst out into laughter, your blush growing exponentially in both embarrassment as well as the realisation of how pleasant the sound was.

“D-Don’t laugh.” You weakly tried, though your own smile was tugging on your lips as he practically doubled over, looking down. “It’s not that funny.” You huffed in amusement though John stood up straight, shaking his head.

“That is the reason they’re bluebells?” He giggled out the last of his laughter and you rubbed your arms.

“What do bluebells mean?” You awkwardly asked and John looked into your eyes, his own still filled with mirth.

“Darling, they symbolise humiliation.”

At that, your face absolutely flamed up with heat and you quickly slapped your hands over it to hide away. “No they do not! Tell me they don’t.” You cried out into your palms, mortified, and John burst out laughing again, much to your chagrin. “It’s not funny, that’s so embarrassing!” You whined, only to stop when you felt a soft touch on your wrist.

Gently, Price grabbed hold of it before he pried your hand away from your face, a smile still on his features. “That reasoning is a lot better than the ones I came up with. Besides, I like bluebells.” He hummed and you breathed out softly, licking your lips.

“Promise you’re not lying?”

“Scouts honour.” He hummed with a soft smile.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped your arm and smiled a careful smile back at him. “At least you knew you had a soulmate because of it, so it’s not all bad.”

“Not all bad.” He hummed, letting go of your wrist while his eyes flitted up and down, properly taking you in.

“Guess we both marked each other up then.” You spoke but at that, John’s warm smile turned wry.

“That’s quite different, Y/N.” He shook his head and you frowned, making him let out a rueful chuckle. “I’m not the one with a body full of flowers.” His knuckles gently stroked down your forearm before he dropped his hand and let out a sigh. “See, I feared ruining someone’s life because of how I live mine.”

Hearing his words, you don’t know what compelled you to do so, but you shot forward and grabbed his right hand tight with both of yours, holding it up between yourselves. “You ruined nothing for me.”

Blinking a few times, John turned his hand to grip yours back, surprised by how shockingly addicting the warmth your hands gave off was. He almost had to tear his focus back into the conversation as he ran your words through his head again and clicked his tongue. “Nothing? You sure? I doubt you got many relationships with all the flowers I must have given you.”

Smirking a bit, you tilted your head. “And why would I want relationships when I knew I had a soulmate out there?”

Your words were quick and paired with your sudden mischievous expression, the tension between John’s brows vanished as he looked at you.

It almost felt like a veil had been lifted, one that had been holding him down for god knows how long as he realised. Even through everything he did to you, you never doubted him. You’d held out for him and trusted him to come to you. And all that while you didn’t even know him.

Taking in your expression, he allowed himself to loosen up too, his lips quirking up slightly.

“Experience?”

Gasping playfully at that, you took note as well of how he seemed to relax, making you cross your arms in a pretend display and chuckle. “How rude.”

Smiling at you, John held out his hand. “You’re right. Allow me to buy you a drink to make up for it?”

Smiling back, you placed your hand in his. “I’d love that. Plus, I don’t mean to eavesdrop but I’m pretty sure your own drink is still being guarded.”

Huffing out a laugh, John shook his head and nodded. “Guess I’ll swipe that back as well. Allow me?”

Nodding, you let him lead you back into the pub, opening the door for you before he led you to a quieter corner at the bar top.

For the rest of the night, the two of you talked, getting to know each other before exchanging numbers to keep in contact and meet up later.

Later turned into two days later, which turned into another day later as well. And safe to say, by the end of the week, a lot more of your flowers were filled in and coloured.

- - - -

Did I think of every way Price got his scars aka you got the flowers? Yes. Did it come up in the fic? No. Sad boi hours xD

Part 1 | Part 2

#john price #john price x reader #captain john price #call of duty modern warfare #soulmate au #price x reader #it’s 3:45am so if you see any mistakes no you don’t

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