#everything ive ever let go of had claw marks in it

[cordeliawhohung]

js discovered ur blog recently and i am FED. im gobbling up the writings ur brain has created god bless🙏🏻

what do you think of mafia!price reacting to his wife being insecure about her stretch marks from her pregnancy/postpartum?

ive been so worked up over my stretch marks cause ive been gaining weight recently😭😭 btw, its totally cool if u dont wanna do this...

remember to take care of urself ya :3👍❗️❗️🔥🔥🔥

thank you so much!! and oh my god i have THOUGHTS about this. i gained 40ish pounds in the span of a few months and my stretch marks are so deep i can run my fingers over them and FEEL them and it took me a while to learn that it's natural and to accept them as a part of myself, but god is it freeing. anyway. story.

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: body image issues, slight postpartum depression, hurt/comfort, fem!reader

You don't look in mirrors anymore.

Before you had your beautiful bundle of joy, your reflection had never bothered you. Really, there wasn't really anything you felt at all when you looked into one. All a mirror had been was just a tool. Something to guide your hands when styling your hair or to ensure you had cleansed the makeup from your face.

So quickly had that tool become a weapon.

Wretched and cruel, all the mirror seemed to reflect those days was everything you tried to ignore. The stretch of your skin, those atrocious lines that plagued your stomach and thighs; your eyes were magnetized to them every time you looked at yourself. Most of all, it reminded you that the day you gave birth to your daughter, you had become more than just a mother. You became a spectacle.

It's why you started wearing baggy clothes around the house because if you could muddle the shape of your body, maybe you could blur the crevices that shredded your skin. So when your darling husband snuck up behind you while you worked on folding laundry in the bedroom, your immediate instinct was to push him away. Despite how warm his arms felt around you with large, thick hands smoothing over your stomach, you were terrified he'd feel the parts of you that were broken.

"Everything alright, love?" John asked softly at your rejection. His fingertips slowly slipped off of your body but lingered as if he regretted the movement, and they seared as if he had dug claws into you, refusing to let go.

"Yeah," you answered, but you hated how broken you sounded, even to your own ears.

Your lie was obvious, not just in the tone of your voice but in the posture of your body. How sweaty hands held a half folded shirt against your stomach as if you could hide away the shame that ate away at you. Stepping to the side, John slowly lowered your hands away from you body and turned you to face him where you were met with the watery hue of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, all but ripping the answer from your mouth.

You hated the way your lip trembled, how your shame crashed against you with such overwhelming force you nearly suffocated. There were countless times when you had been bare in front of him, laid out perfectly in bed or on top of him with a sweaty body and quickened breath. So why did you feel more stripped in that moment than any other?

"Do you... still think I'm pretty?" you choked out.

John's expression didn't change much after those words left your mouth. It was as if he already knew what ailed you. In a way, he always seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

"Do you think you are?" he countered.

"Not anymore."

He had expected that answer too, and yet still couldn't hide the way he nearly winced. You braced yourself for his rebuttal, for the string of words telling you that you were beautiful, that you were crazy to think otherwise. Your whole life, self deprecation was always met with stern correction, because god forbid you ever felt a little insecure.

But it wasn't that way with John.

Instead, he sunk to the ground until he was on his knees, and when he took your hands into his it felt as if he was proposing all over again. The love in his eyes, the way his thumbs ran over your knuckles, it was all so intimate, so raw, and your throat grew tight at the sight.

"You brought a beautiful, perfect girl into our lives," he said softly. His eyes didn't stray from you for even a moment. "Carried her for months. Nourished her; still nourishing her. I think it's a little unfair to expect yourself to stay unchanged. Doesn't make you any less beautiful. You're still my wife. My girl. The mother of my child."

It was impossible to stop the tears from spilling, and they only fell harder the moment John leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against your stomach. So tender, as if embracing an open wound and healing it all in the same motion. It was so kind, too kind, and it forced all of your thoughts and held back words to dissipate in the back of your throat.

"Darling, you're the love of my life," he said in a near whisper, "don't ever forget that."

#mafia!price #mafia!141 #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #f!reader

[gatorbites-imagines]

I recently started reading about werewolf stiles and I was wondering if you could do a werewolf stiles x male reader, please and thank you

Werewolf Stiles Stilinski x male reader

Headcanon

Ive never read too many werewolf Stiles fics, as I mainly read Spark Stiles stuff, but its an interesting idea, so I hope you enjoy this.

It’s been a while since I watched the show, so there might be parts about werewolf culture I forgot.

There are many ways Stiles could have been bitten, but lets assume its later on after everything with the Nogitsune and the chimeras. Its most likely Scott that bites him to save his life or something like that.

Because he killed people as the Nogitsune, and maybe other times I can’t remember, he would have blue eyes instead of yellow. Since he has so much experience with other people being bitten, he’s probably more on top of his own transformation.

If it was in the show, there would probably be a whole plot about Stiles becoming something else when he was bitten, because its Stiles, why wouldn’t he. But let’s just say the transformation went as it was meant to go.

Hes still is loud sassy self, but with a lot more wolf and dog jokes. You have to expect to hear the joke about you putting him in a collar at least once a week, or making him sleep in the doghouse.

Stiles struggles with his new urges and senses for a while, especially how much how loves your scent and can’t seem to get enough of you. Even before his bite, Stiles was a clingy lover, but afterwards it gets even worse.

He doesn’t even seem to notice he does it. Stiles will hang out at your place and splay across your bed, burying his face into your sheets and pillow and roll around. Or you go to his place, where he absentmindedly makes you wear his clothes to get his scent on you.

Stiles notices how he wants you provide for you more, it starts out small like bringing you small snacks or letting you borrow his jacket, but it becomes bringing you a whole ass deer after a full moon, much to the pack’s entertainment.

You are his person, if that makes sense. If he’s losing himself during a shift, he thinks about you to get himself back under control. Just the idea of hurting you makes his entire body and soul ache, and it’s the last thing he would ever want to do.

That might also result in Stiles hiding away from you the days before a full moon, just in case, as his needs and urges get stronger and stronger. Let’s just say he’s had to buy a lot of new pants as his claws keep tearing holes in his usual ones, as he has to grip his thigh from doing anything.

Has caught himself almost biting you on multiple occasions, like if you guys are cuddling or getting a little more intimate and Stiles finds himself scraping his teeth across your neck. His instincts howl for him to bite and mark you, but he’s so terrified of the idea that he almost falls out of the bed.

Stiles being Stiles would bury himself in research to try and understand why his urges are so God damn strong, as other wolves he’s met haven’t been so bad when it comes to their lover.

He ends up having to tuck his tail between his legs and go to other members of the pack with more experience, most likely Derek, or Peter, as his research doesn’t end up with much.

Peter would have a good laugh at his situation, and Derek would just raise a brow with a small “huh, makes sense” much to Stiles’s annoyance.  He ends up getting the werewolf version of the birds and the bees, and the whole talk about true mates, and he ends up sitting in his car just thinking this all sounds like one of those trashy werewolf romance books.

Assuming you are an average human, it would take a bit for Stiles to tell you, and you probably have to force it out of him cuz he’s avoiding you. Stiles again being Stiles, would feel like he doesn’t deserve you or that you can do so much better, so he doesn’t wanna force a bond on you.

He needs reassurance that you still love him, especially after he’s become a werewolf. After a long talk, Stiles returns to his lovable clingy self, but he won’t allow himself to bond you until you guys get older, even though he truly wants too.

I can imagine it gets so bad that he wears something like a tooth guard so he can’t accidentally bite your neck in the heat of the moment, cuz he wants you both to build your careers or educations before you get “wolf married” as he calls it.

During a full moon, he also always finds himself by your place, be it crawling in through your window or just hovering in the shadows nearby. You gets used to the feeling of him watching you when he’s wolfed out, and you’ll easily find his glowing blue eyes when you learn where to look.

Like I said earlier, a scent beast. You’ll cat him snuffling and sniffing you on the regular, and it probably reaches the point he can smell the changes in your hormones, so if you ever feel a little hot under the collar you just know he’s gonna smell it too.

After being bitten he also gets more comfortable with his body and appearance, since running around during the full moon ends with him naked more times than he doesn’t. The bite also made him muscle up, at least somewhat, which he appreciates too.

When his old flannels don’t fit on him anymore cuz of the sudden growth spurt, he gives them all to you to wear or do with as you please. If they fit, that’s the easiest way to make him buckle for you.

All in all, he’s still as much of a sweetheart as if he wasn’t a werewolf, now he just has a lot of new urges and instincts that catch him off guard every now and then. Stiles would always carry some guilt for mixing you deeper into the supernatural world, even if you were already part of it, but he also can’t ever imagine living without you.

So, make sure to reassure him that you love him and will stay by his side. If you end up some kind of supernatural being too, the guilt lessens, but its Stiles were talking about, he’s always got some kind of thing going on.

#male reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #Mieczyslaw stilinski #werewolf stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski headcanon #stiles stilinski x male reader #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf headcanon #teen wolf x male reader #teen wolf x reader #Mieczyslaw stilinski imagine #Mieczyslaw stilinski headcanon #Mieczyslaw stilinski x male reader #Mieczyslaw stilinski x reader #werewolf dynamics #werewolf culture stuff?

[eternal-smiles]

Final of Clashing Worlds.

From the last post and now we are on part two and final of my comic. Thank you all for the read!

Previous Part of Clashing Worlds

Warning: Some Blood and brighter colors will be shown, I do apologize about that.

Wish to continue? Alrighty then!

Hunter’s Report:

Time: 8:36 AM

Region: England

Area of Sighting: Alton Towers

As I explained before in the beginning of my last report of Uri’s sighting, Uri and her fellow Guardians felt an uneasy sensation in the air, and she has found one of the pieces. It was hard to believe that whatever this was, it has placed a Twisted “Blessing” onto Otsana Risa, Guardian Beast of The Smiler. Uri had done everything in her power to at least weaken Otsana and bring her to be purified… I’m afraid that was proven to be a difficult task.

As I and Alton discuss this situation, we’ve heard an explosion created by Uri. With no hesitation, I ran to the location, as a grandmother, I do worry for my grandchildren… but with this Darkness looming over the land, I didn’t want it to take another victim.

I thankfully reached my granddaughter in time before whatever was watching can make a move… I know it’s not Melanthios… the very demon I defeated so long ago. This is different, but not in the same threat level as him… well, it’s close enough unfortunately. Which it is concerning enough for Alton and the beasts. Whatever or whoever this was, he fears it still has enough power to do the very same to the other beasts… just like the poor Werewolf.

I have sent a band of hunters to track down Otsana’s blood trail and her whereabouts… This was my mistake. This darkness didn’t leave, and since it didn’t get their claws on my granddaughter’s soul, I’m afraid it grabbed them instead… UNFORGIVABLE. I and my family went out to search for them… nothing. Except claw marks and a scent of Otsana’s blood, and… unknown smell of someone and a horrible chemical smell. I’m not sure it was this dark energy or her…. My only prayer now is that the hunters are alive and fighting to escape…

Unfortunately, I will need further proof and an identification to launch a full hunt, capture, and rescue. I will be sending close Allies, my fellow Huntress, and my Grandson: Sycorax, Edric, Calypso, and Zyran to aid Alton with the beasts’ worries, while in the hopes to capture Otsana… if my and my dear friend’s Sight is correct and played right, perhaps one of them can help Otsana see through this polluted darkness, and return her to the light.

End of Report.

-Wolf Van Helsing, Lady of the Abyss Watchers.

—————————————————————

Thank you all so much for reading! This has been very interesting experience for me, and I hope I’ll get better at it in time ^^;

So! What really inspired me to make this? Once a fucking again, Darbi. Mostly Season 3 Ep. 42 Clensing (IV) or #117. (If wrong let me know so I can edit this) I HIGHLY recommend reading it! While it was on hiatus, I decided to read Season 3 and I forgot all about that scene of Dolla fighting Darbi, and it didn’t leave my mind until I finally caved in and created this! Was it fun? Yes. HOWEVER; my only mistake here is this: I should of planned it better. This all came into mind and that alone, so hopefully next time if I ever thought of this again, I’m grabbing my Note Book to write for ideas….

And lastly! And I’m still gonna thank you for this again! @twistedtowers for the incredible redesigning of Otsana! (And I’m sorry she didn’t get a W ;w; but the two got a tie… I know, still not a W ;-;) I wanted to experiment and have of the idea of “Otsana wants and has to prove she can Control the park, but there are those who would step up and forbid her from doing that.” A.K.A, Uri and perhaps now some future characters.

Okay, off to what was going on with the two having glowing lines! Welp, that’s not only a self regeneration, but also a way to charge up their attacks. Example: Otsana’s Flash attack. (Welp, looks like it’s been powered up now… thanks Regan.) with enough energy she can unleash it to an whole group, but pretty sure after this scuffle… she may want some training 😬 but she felt a bit proud for forcing Uri back into human form while stunning her.

As for Uri, why did her eyes changed? Welp, if pushed WAAAY in her limit, a deep Primal Instinct will be awakened. Her grandmother calls it: Primal Spirit. Basically it boosts up the power of the individual, and they are easily set off into a rage. But don’t be fooled, just because the person is mega angry, doesn’t mean they’re fully blinded, this will make them more focused and unleash their rage on the weak spot. Downside however, it will drain the person HEAVILY, causing them to be knocked out for awhile as seen from Uri.

Finally, Wolf Van Helsing herself. What or who is she? Well, for short. She is Uri’s Grandmother, and a Shiftwalker woman who survived a horrific war and carnage from a demon named, Melanthios, The Dark Flower who Blooms in One’s Heart. And that massive star like shape on her chest…. That’s a scar. Girl took in a deadly hit just to seal Melas away for 150 years. While dying, her allies and deceased old friend separated Melas’s life energy, and transferred it to her. Reborn as a being of Light, Creation, and Life. And to make things complicated for Melanthios, she transferred the same Energy to her children, and they passed it on to their children… like Uri. Explains why her transformation looks like a piece of an orange nebula. (Look man, I love space.)

Extras: Who are Sycorax, Edric, Zyran, and Calypso?? Two out of the four are my old ocs that I decided to bring back for fun! That being: Sycorax a battle scarred man and user of Alchemy Magic and a wolf side that might surprise Otsana, and Edric the adopted son of an Ice Queen (she belongs to a close bro of mine) and a man with a secret identity (Hint: he is NOT human.) he also uses Ice and Space magic as well for combat, but it’s the Black Ice that should be concerning IF pushed to his limits.

Zyran is Uri’s big brother (like 4 years older) and pretty sure after this incident… yeah home boi will unleash his thunder. As for Calypso, a fierce huntress well known in the Hunters World, but what role is she gonna play here? ;3

#alton towers #the smiler #the smiler alton towers #the ministry of joy #ministry of joy #alton towers the smiler #the smiler oc #alton towers oc #alton towers wicker man #wicker man alton towers #the wickerman #the wickerman oc #wicker man oc #wickerman #Otsana the Bewitching Wolf #Uri the Living Fire #Wolf the Matriarch of the Hunters #comic #Clashing Worlds Comic

[the-sand-guardian]

Chapter 2: The Three of the Hospital

Still Feel - Generation Loss

Ranboo, Sneeg, and Charlie make it safely to the hospital, though not without requiring various treatments. Charlie and Sneeg have a conversation in secret. This chapter focuses more on Charlie.

Wordcount: 1925

This is chapter two of my fic, Still Feel, also available on AO3. For chapter one, click the following link:

Ranboo was in and out of surgery for days. The buzzing of fluorescent lights stuck in Charlie’s head like a fly he couldn’t shoo away. Before he himself had been discharged, he would drag his IV with him to where Ranboo was, where he would talk to the sleeping teen and check in with the doctors on their progress. Sneeg had had it the best out of all of them, and ended up staying longer in the psych ward than in the ICU. He came to visit Charlie and Ranboo a lot as well, though he focused more on Charlie than Ranboo. 

On one such visit, Sneeg had stayed as long as he was permitted to. They had talked for what must have been hours. 

“How are you holdin’ up, man? You’re gonna have some sick-ass scars I’ve heard,” He asked, smiling a bit. 

Charlie nodded. “I didn’t even hurt until they got Ranboo in here. I think I was running on straight adrenaline for hours…You wanna see?” He sat up with a wince before leaning back into his pillow. 

“Like actually? Hell yeah I do!” Sneeg scooted a bit closer to Charlie’s bed to get a better look. 

Charlie gingerly slipped his arms out of his hospital gown, revealing large claw marks that were being held together by a good few stitches. They sprawled all the way across his chest, though some had reached his biceps as well. 

“Shit, man, I didn’t even realize he got you that good,” Sneeg remarked after just a moment. “I’m even more shocked they let you on with him now.” 

“They said I’m lucky to have survived. I don’t actually think me or Ranboo would have if I didn’t go find you.” He put his gown back on and sighed. 

“I hardly did anything, man, you had to convince me that Ran was even still alive. I’m more thankful that you found me, I don’t think I would have made it out if not.”

“We’ll call it even then,” He smiled and adjusted his glasses. “I should be out of here in a few more days, they’re giving me wraps and stuff so I don’t bleed out and everything.” 

The two continued to converse for a bit before Sneeg inevitably had to leave for the “Lights Out” period of the day, a time in which Charlie dreaded tremendously. Most nights, a nurse would have to come and sit with him until he fell asleep or his screams would wake the other patients. Even when he could sleep, he would repeatedly stop breathing or breathe so fast that a nurse would have to be present anyways. 

He woke night after night with his gown stuck to him with his own sweat. Other patients even spoke of him crying when he was alone for too long, mumbling incoherently under his breath. When the doctors pressed, however, he couldn’t force himself to speak. His throat ran completely dry and all he could do was shake his head. When he was discharged, the doctors gave Sneeg a rundown of what he needed each day and reminded him that Charlie needed to sleep. He was sent home with three prescriptions: Percocet, extra-strength melatonin, and Zoloft. 

Ranboo was, of course, less lucky. His many surgeries required him to stay in the hospital much longer than both Sneeg and Charlie, but both were determined to be there for him every step of the way. Unlike Charlie, Ranboo spent most of their time out of surgeries completely asleep, and, once they could, they were only ever really awake to eat. It took them more than a month to be able to eat properly again, but the pain from their multiple skin grafts made it painful and difficult. Neither of his brothers ever tried to get Ranboo to speak, but both each took turns coming in and speaking to him and keeping him company. 

The day Ranboo finally spoke again was a hallmark in their recovery. It was during one of the small periods they were awake, and Charlie was there to sit with them. The orange late-afternoon sun basked the room in light as it usually did, illuminating the room enough for Ranboo to make out the silhouette of flowers on his nightstand, as by this point it had been determined that their sight could only really be returned in one eye, and that procedure had yet to be done. Charlie let out a small sigh as the beams came through the vertical blinds. 

“Man, I’ll never get over how pretty the sunsets are here,” He mused wistfully. “You’d love them. So many shades of orange and pink…” 

Ranboo turned their head towards the window a bit and nodded before facing Charlie again. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

Charlie’s eyes widened immediately and his mouth fell open a bit. “You spoke-! I- fuck- I mean, of course man, but you-” 

Ran smiled a little and nodded. Their voice was shaky and their breathing was uneven. “I’ve- I’ve been w-working on it f-f-for a bit now.” 

“Can I call Sneeg? Or would that be too much for you?” He asked, pulling out his phone but waiting for an answer. “If not I can just text him and he can come in tomorrow.” 

“He c’n come,” They nodded, though they had paused a second beforehand. “I’m gonna stop until he gets here.” 

“That’s absolutely fine, man, you need rest” He pulled his chair to Ranboo’s bedside and gently squeezed one of their hands to let him know he was closer before phoning Sneeg. “You should come out here tonight too… He’s talking - Not just the mumbling… no- no… they’re actually talking to me.” 

Somehow, Sneeg had turned an hour-long drive into 45 minutes. He power-walked through the halls and cursed out an elevator in the process, but he made it. He sat down by Ranboo’s bedside and took the hand closest to him to alert Ranboo of his arrival. 

Ranboo initially jumped a bit but relaxed as he recognized the touch. “Sneeg,” He gave him a mangled smile. “You came.” 

Sneeg nodded and wiped his eyes, his own voice shaking a bit. “Of course I did, kid. Hey, that rhymed-'' He gave them a watery smile. “How’re you holdin’ up today?”

Ran shakily lifted their hand and waved it in a so-so manner. “It hurts, a lot,” They shut their eyes as a dull pain shot through their head. “Everything just hurts so much all the time.” 

“You’ve got your button still, you can press it whenever you need more painkillers,” Charlie chimed in, a pain rising in his own chest as he thought about all the torture his little brother had gone through already. 

Ranboo shook their head. “I’m timed out. Can’t get anymore for a few more hours.” He laid back fully now, adjusting his bed to be almost completely laid down. 

Sneeg looked from Ranboo to Charlie, his brows knitted together in confusion. He mouthed out the words, ‘ When did this happen?’ 

Charlie shrugged a bit, concern washing over his own face. ‘I have no idea, I didn’t see them press it.’  

Sneeg gently rubbed the side of Ranboo’s hand with his thumb with a quiet sigh. Charlie shifted a bit and ran a hand through his own hair as both watched their sibling quietly drift to sleep. Charlie then looked up at Sneeg with a new glimmer in his eye. 

“How’s it coming along?” He asked vaguely. “Better than this morning?”

Sneeg nodded. “It’s looking pretty good. I got a few more walls painted and I’m hoping to get the kitchen set up soon.” 

“Really? Shit, I feel like I haven’t done anything yet…I’ll swing by IKEA tomorrow and get the room set up, that way they have somewhere proper to sleep right away. I can get some kitchen stuff too while you’re here.” 

Sneeg nodded once more. “He’s gonna be so excited when he sees it, I’m sure it’s gonna look great. Before either of us leave, I want you to know something, ok?” He looked over at Charlie and fumbled with his own hoodie strings. 

Charlie nodded this time. “Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Do you remember Frank at all?” Sneeg shifted in his seat. 

“I’m not sure…I don’t recall a Frank, no. Why?” 

“So basically, Frank was this plastic skeleton, right? I don’t know where he came from but I swear, everything I was in while I was there, he was too… I found one while I was out today.” 

“And you brought it home, now it’s in our living room and you don’t want me to scream when I see it?” 

Sneeg let his posture fall and leaned back a bit, “You know me so well,” 

Charlie gave him a gentle smile as he relaxed in his chair. “Are you staying here tonight too?” 

“I can, I don’t mind either way. When’s Ran’s next surgery?” 

“Here in a few days. They said they might be able to help him see again. I’m not sure how well, but hopefully it means something, y’know?” He shrugged and rubbed at his face a bit. “They have to be terrified, man. They’re just a kid. We were so scared but we’re adults and we can handle it.” Charlie covered the lower half of his face with a hand. “They’re a kid.”

“I know, man. They’re strong, but they don’t have to be anymore. We’re gonna help give him a better life, Charlie. We’re all out now, and now we can all go and try to forget any of this ever fucking happened.” 

Charlie let go of Ranboo’s hand as his own began to shake. He backed away from him as his breathing shortened and his face paled. “Sneeg- Sneeg we can’t forget any of this shit- I can’t- They can’t,” He spoke quickly as his vision began to flatten. 

Sneeg stood up from his chair and went over to the other. “Hey, man, it’s alright. Did you take your meds this morning? Charlie?” He gently put his hands on his rapidly rising and falling shoulders, but Charlie didn’t respond. He sat there rocking a bit before he began to shake his head. 

“No, no- no no no, not like this- please, not again-” He murmured a bit, staring into the floor as tears ran down his face. “No more, I can’t handle it-” 

Sneeg shook him a bit before pulling him closer. “Charlie, Charlie, it’s Sneeg. I’m here” He hugged him tight, knowing the pressure often helped to soothe him. “Nobody is going to hurt you any more.” 

Charlie sniffled and choked a bit before his breathing began to slow. He relaxed into Sneeg’s hold and shut his eyes to try and continue calming himself down. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-'' He cried softly into his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, man, you’re safe. I’m safe, Ran’s safe now too,” He kept his voice gentle and quiet as the other began to relax. “You can cry, but make sure you’re breathing.” 

Charlie nodded and wiped his eyes before sitting back up from where he had slumped over. Sneeg let go of him before speaking again. 

“You know I won’t make you talk about it, but whenever you need to, I’ll listen to you, ok?” He reminded Charlie. “You were whispering again. Whatever you experienced back there was serious, you can’t bottle it up forever and expect to be ok.” 

Charlie shook his head and wiped his watery eyes again, unable to speak through the lump in his throat. 

AN: Chapter 2! The suppourt on the last chapter has been amazing and has helped me keep my motivation so far, so I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as you did the last! Again, comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated <33

#generation loss fic #generation loss #genloss #generation loss fanart #gl!ranboo #genloss fic #gl!charlie #gl!slimecicle #gl!sneegsnag #gl!sneeg #angst #hurt/comfort #panic attacks #fanfic #still feel fic

[shadowedvales-a]

THINGS ARE STARTING TO COME BACK TO YOU, AND YOU'RE CURIOUS. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON. › FROM ELIZABETH MARCH. @embodies

She still sensed it, the universe spinning around with no ending or beginning; the way her blood curdled a horrid gurgle, even if it no longer pumped to her brain. She haunted marble walls on silent feet. The place a fusion of malevolence and beauty, and Jane, despite her hollowed flesh and often unseeing eyes, couldn't help but find a strange sort of enticement within said walls, all perfectly draped and painted. She knew quite little of its happenings, bizarre spirits of muddled eras all sharing one patch of land; although the mind became a hazy thing due to submittance of the final years of her life, she was no fool. Isolated company was merely favoured, a lithe black cat scampering against corners, gaze finding deathly endurances but never remaining long enough to understand reasoning behind vile acts. Sitting, feeling, unthinking.

Where there was rot, there was Jane Ives. Stuck in the jaws of a hellish beast, taker of lives, but leaving the soul to crumble. Oftentimes she wondered what she was actually doing here; inner workings utterly vandalised by a madman's execution for warped world-peace. The toxicity resting in her bloodstream confused old memories, scorched her past-life: all she remembered of her mother entailed a whiff of perfume and a few phrases of a lullaby she used to sing. One day she'll uncover truths, the ugly and pure— but for now, the body only yearns for kindred consideration, perhaps something to call her own. Three decades would rear its date in a handful of months, and a spark had begun to litter in her mind's eye.

“Yes. I am curious.” The very first time Jane saw Elizabeth, she was positive she had moved to a better destination; swore she bore witness to an angel welcoming her to heaven's palace. (Oh Saint Peter let me in, you must know where I've been! Won't you tell me at last who I am?) Ever quickly, the hand she wished to hold, she realised, was sharp, a creature's claw; fascination did not dwindle but fear ushered the child away. It's clear the woman saw everything happening inside her hotel, including frizzled recollections resurfacing, taunting innocence of youth and marking it for horror. “I remember... things.” Honesty possessed no hesitation, as the words spilled it felt good to speak them aloud. To relieve herself. “There is a block. A... something foggy. It stops me remembering.” Frustration threatened its course, as one might perceive through her jaw tightening, lifeless pallor nearly gaining a flash of colour.

This is your story, written and rewritten, scratched out, burned and buried. “Did I... Was I always... this?” Is it foretold that I haunt the head of a girl graced for much more than her destiny provided? Chin cants, shoulders purposely squared like trying to light a guise of confidence. “Bee - cause I do not think I was always in this place.”

#⅋. [ ✦ ] ﹕ we are all just prisoners here of our own device ‚ american horror story: hotel . #embodies. #okay okay okay i gotta properly write this verse up but!! #in very simple terms: terry dies. brenner is actually a relation of jane (terry's half-brother or a distant kind of sibling relationship.) #so when terry dies jane is sent to live w him. jane is around seven at the time. #brenner is a surgeon who dedicated his life trying to come up with vaccines for diseases such as cancer and polio. #he felt that animal testing didn't give him accurate results. #so as soon as he got custody of jane. she became the subject of his experiments. #he was once a well acclaimed doctor but over the years became obsessed with trying to find cures for these diseases and his methods became #very. very unethical. so he was eventually fired from his job etc etc did his own animal testing. #jane is submitted to a range of testing and grows very weak and frail because of it. #brenner believes he finally makes a breakthrough. but knows it could kill jane and doesn't want any evidence of her left in / near #his house. so he books a room at the hotel (where so much shady shit happens anyway) and conducts his experiment. she does die and #brenner flees the scene. and in doing so makes it look like jane had an overdose. he booked the room under her name too. #he was very prepared for her dying and made it all look really nice and neat. an easy case for any cops to solve. #a ratty. skinny little girl who probably had no chance in life. her oversized clothes / short hair / grubby face indicated homelessness. #so there's not a lot of investigation. #so! yeah. they are the basics <333 #if u dont vibe with it though we can totally plot out something together if you like! #also jane doesnt remember much of her past life for the first thirty years or so of being in the hotel! the countless drugs used and #implemented into her body makes her head incredibly fuzzy. #especially because it's how she died. her brain just. stays in that fuzzy mindset for a long time. #but she does eventually begin to remember. it just takes a while!

[bearsgrove]

where is that quote thats like "everything ive ever let go of had teeth and claw marks" or something

#river.txt #cutting my head off and my heart out in my head #fucking #i dont #know

[kingarmorking]

uhhh so this is... smth different. ive never written smth for the purpose of venting as much as i did for this so uh... yeah this is a vent with one of my ocs

honestly wasnt sure if i should post this or not but im... kinda happy with how it came out so my sibling said i should

i listened to "brutus" and "laplace's angel" while i wrote this to get me in the mood, ig if i were to title it itd be "i dont want what you have, i wanna be you"

i really dont know... what to tag this as so ill do my best but if smth should be added lemme know

Te’eii been watching the kid ever since he was born, though not by choice. The kid was him, he looked like him before his problems he was lost; same hair from back then, same eyes from back then, same innocence from back then. Sometimes the kid saw him, would try to speak to him or get his attention but he wouldn’t interact, he was nothing but an observer now in the grand scheme. So he watched, watched as the kid grew up and as he met the bastard’s new self.

Fate was funny like that, Te’eii thought. After all the animosity they had, it was all erased. The kid and the bastard’s new self had none of the issues that he’d had. The bastard’s new self looked just like the bastard too, even grew it out like he used to. The two got along great, just like he and the bastard used to and became partners like them as they got older.

Te’eii wondered why he was there, forced to watch the kid have everything he could only dream he could’ve had. Punishment for how he was before he died maybe. But if that was the case did that mean the bastard was there too? Was he watching over his new self just as he did with the kid? He could better accept this punishment if the bastard was being punished too.

If it wasn’t a punishment though… did the higher forces expect Te’eii to protect the kid? Keep him safe like some guardian angel? That’d be rich, they all thought him a devil because of his problems he was lost. Why should he, the kid seemed to have everything figured out considering he wasn’t burdened p̷̻̒̓͗r̴̡̢͈̦̻̳̘͊͆͘ǒ̴̹̘̫̼͈͊͛̃̅͝b̸̙̼͑̽l̶̢͙̼̜̦͈̆̓̍͝e̴̐̕͘͜m̶̧̛͈̞̥̥͙̦̅͗͂̋̽ś̸̝͍̟͌͗̅̀̚ like he was. The kid was a good student to the point where people would go to him for advice on certain subjects and part of him was glad for him.

The first time they officially met was in the kid’s dreams and the other, larger part of Te’eii’s entire being swelled in anger, jealousy and hate. The kid didn’t notice him at first and he’d reacted before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed him, wrapped his hands around the kid’s throat as he glared down at him. Why did the kid get everything and he was left with nothing!? As if everything he worked towards, everything he tried to work through was meaningless! Those accursed words rang in his head as he slammed the kid down, tightening his grip on his throat to keep him pinned.

“I’ll make you an offer, without trying to sound like an ass or something, when you start working on your problems, I’ll start working on-”

The kid clawed at Te’eii’s hands, trying to get his grip to loosen but he refused to let up, he couldn’t afford to. Finally he had a chance to unleash every pent up feeling he had since the kid came into his afterlife. He was shouting something at the kid and they fell on deaf ears, after all the kid had no idea what he went through. No idea that the kid’s partner - his old self, the bastard that he knew - tried to equate his trauma with something lesser. As if what he’d gone through didn’t matter, was something to be shoved under the rug, to be hidden and not talked about. As if he didn’t try to work through his so-called “problems”, he didn’t try to better himself to not let what he went through keep such an ice-cold grip on him.

Te’eii watched as the kid’s eyes began to roll back when he vanished from under him, his hands groping the empty air. He was back to watching again and saw the kid’s partner had woken him up, could see marks around his neck from where his hands were. The kid’s partner spoke so softly, voice full of worry for him and how he wanted that. How he wanted to be the kid.

If only to have no “problems” to work on.

#king writes #self harm tw #strangulation tw #vent tw #my ocs #again i really dont know what to tag this as #i dont write a lot of this type of subject so please inform me of other things i should potentially tag this as #the quote in the middle of it was slightly changed

[isitovernow-ootw]

everything ive ever let go of has claw marks on it AND ive had let go of everthing ive ever touched

#*when i'm screaming at the sky

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

yoo requests are open again, nice!!

been ages since ive requested anything.

maybe something about the old friends au, where dark and damien meet/explain to damien how he literaly is just looking at a future him?

referencing this ask i sent in btw VVV

thank you <3

"Forgive me if I’m wrong, but..you’re basically saying that Celine, [y/n], and myself became this...thing after Mark betrayed us all at the party?”

"To call me a "thing" is rude, you know."

"M-My apologies. I'm just...lost." Smoothing out his gelled hair anxiously, Damien sighed as he looked to the monochrome entity sitting in the nearby chair. He found it hard to believe this was actually him.

You were seated beside the former mayor. "Which part are you lost on?”

“Wh--all of it! I don’t understand any of it! Why would Mark do this to us? To any of us?? I get he was distraught after Celine left. And sure, I could have been there for him more, but--ow..”

With a wince, he held a hand to his ear as Dark scowled at him, his looks alone intensifying the ringing in the air. Damien jumped as the other ego’s shell began cracking, watching as afterimages of him flickered around and emitted howls of pain.

Using his voice. 

He instinctively grasped your hand, looking at you with such fear and confusion. You may not be a district attorney anymore, but he still felt close to you.

After all, you’re the only one who helped him when he winded up in this strange neighborhood, perplexed at how many people shared a face like his. Not to mention the new technology and whatnot he initially fumbled with, though those were the least of his concerns.

Right now? His concern was this “Darkiplier” guy who seemed so cold and distant, making him feel very much unwelcomed. He didn’t know what was wrong at first..all he knew was that Dark was in charge of this community and offered his assistance as a former mayor.

Next thing he knew, the door was slammed on his face.

Damien returned to your home, distraught over why everyone but Dark seemed to accept him here. He didn’t know why he hated him so much when he tried to be nothing but kind.

That’s when you knew a serious conversation was necessary, although you were aware it was going to be quite a difficult one.

Still, you couldn’t just keep the two hidden from each other forever. So this talk had to come sooner or later, no matter how painfully uncomfortable it was.

As soon as the ringing died down, you frowned a bit, watching the way Damien shifted closer to you and avoided Dark’s gaze. It could easily be mistaken for hatred, though you knew his heart was full of anguish.

Anguish over this naïve “younger” version of himself.

Anguish over what you and him could have been.

What frustrated Dark was that Damien appeared to be in complete denial about the events leading to the former’s creation.

In reality, he was simply confused, as any person from the 1930s would be if they were suddenly yanked from their timeline and met a future version of themselves who was barely even human anymore.

“I-If it’s true that you really are me then..I failed the city. I failed as a mayor.” He bowed his head in realization. “Everything I’ve done to get to where I was...gone in one night. All my work..all my speeches....w-what ever happened to my office? My secretaries-?”

“You’re only upset about losing your job? What about your body?!! Your very LIFE?!! HE ROBBED US OF EVERYTHING, DAMIEN!! THAT’S THE TRUTH!!”

Flinching, Damien looked up at Dark, seeing the other’s eyes brimming with tears as he screamed. He was practically shaking in his seat, clawing at the cushioned armrests.

The poor mayor was just as shaken up, shocked that he had this much anger bottled up inside of him. And he just lets it loose, totally unprovoked.

He could never imagine acting like that towards anybody.

“D-Darkiplier, I-”

“You think [y/n] would lie about us being the same?” Dark huffed, his shoulders still tense, but he was done screaming. He put a hand to his chest, feeling his ribs aching from phantom pains. “Would I lie about this not being our body?”

Damien shook his head, coming close to crying himself. “N-No..I..it’s just so much to take in..there’s so much that still doesn’t make sense to me..”

“Just breathe, Dames.” You decided to cut in as you rubbed his back, calming him down from his shaky breathing. “I know it’s a lot. Not all of it's gonna make sense overnight. But if you understand one thing, it's that Dark never hated you...he just hated the reminder of what Mark took from him.”

“..me?” He looked at you.

“Exactly. But you’re here now. You’re safe. And the universe hasn’t imploded yet, so you two are gonna be alright.”

After taking a few moments to settle down, he offered you a small smile. “Th-Thank you, [y/n], and...Dark?”

The entity tilted his head silently, wondering what he wanted to say.

“I...get the gist of it. I suppose I have no choice but to accept that you are me. I’m glad we could clear the air a little. For a long time I was worried I upset you somehow.” He lightly chuckled.

“No, it’s nothing you personally have done.” At this point, Dark had calmed down a lot, too. “I was just..in a shock, unsure of how to approach you until [y/n] suggested we had this chat. Also, I’ve thought about your offer from before..”

“Oh?”

“If you wish to be a mayor for this place, then...we can make that work.” His gaze flickered to yours, seeing you nod in agreement. “I’d like to at least give you the chance to lead again and make a difference...we could certainly use more order around here.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you so much!” Damien beamed with pride, sitting up straighter now. “That would be wonderful.”

You smiled softly, glad to see your old friend in high spirits once again.

Somehow, you’re certain the two will get along just fine. They may not be best friends, but they're slowly starting to understand each other.

That’s progress.

#clanask #iplier egos x reader #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #mayor damien x reader #damien x reader #old friends au #angst

[ladyartemesia]

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. 

———◐——— 

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐——— 

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly! 

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds. 

It was a distress call. 

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid. 

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night. 

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics. 

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again. 

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run. 

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there… 

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age. 

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart. 

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas. 

Except for one. 

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history. 

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people. 

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age. 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl. 

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly. 

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly. 

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft. 

But his gaze burned with determination. 

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest. 

Until only a small silver wolf remained. 

The chief elder sighed. 

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other. 

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night. 

It was cold. 

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see. 

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled. 

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran. 

He had only seen you a handful of times. 

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom. 

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you. 

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance. 

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on. 

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable. 

Unblessed. 

A soulless wolf. 

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent. 

So you could recognize the smell of danger. 

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry. 

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly. 

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike. 

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward. 

But the strike never came. 

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws. 

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin. 

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost- 

You were lost.

So he held. 

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly. 

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe. 

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.” 

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion. 

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur. 

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus. 

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep. 

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke. 

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably. 

Either that or he was becoming numb. 

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake. 

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly. 

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home. 

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you. 

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best. 

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite. 

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch. 

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions. 

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt. 

But they were alive. 

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn. 

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer. 

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you. 

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked. 

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered. 

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table. 

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept. 

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.” 

Her hands clenched to fists. 

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression. 

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone. 

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you. 

You were too weak to fight back. 

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves. 

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers. 

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name. 

You wanted so desperately to thank him. 

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could. 

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost. 

“I promise.”

———◐——— 

Today...

———◐———  

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips. 

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha. 

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident. 

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing. 

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall. 

He missed you. 

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol. 

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise. 

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai. 

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen. 

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of. 

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes. 

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people. 

His instincts could not be easily dismissed. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours. 

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. 

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed. 

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it. 

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom. 

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened. 

Foreign wolves. 

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration. 

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges. 

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides. 

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them. 

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. 

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days? 

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile. 

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. 

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

Chaos erupted immediately. 

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance. 

Every eye turned to him in expectation. 

But he could only think of you. 

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them. 

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight. 

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word. 

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish. 

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear. 

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage. 

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air. 

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs. 

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat. 

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose. 

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged. 

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze. 

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees. 

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head. 

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene. 

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him. 

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.  

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood.  I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.” 

Heavy. 

That was how you felt. 

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.  

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides. 

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted. 

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would. 

To harm a Luna was sacrilege. 

It was simply not done. 

What could drive men to such a course of action? 

You should be afraid; terrified even.  

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled. 

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting. 

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp. 

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression. 

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged. 

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless. 

“My mate is going to kill you.” 

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed. 

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. 

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her. 

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.” 

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! 

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[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

#RE #RE8 #RE 8 #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 Village #RE Imagine #RE Imagines #RE8 Imagine #RE8 Imagines #Resident Evil Imagine #Resident Evil Imagines #Karl Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg Imagine #Karl Heisenberg Imagines #Karl Heisenberg x Reader #Heisenberg Imagine #Heinsenberg Imagines #Heisenberg x Reader

[yonkimint]

So Show Me, I’ll Show You

Part 28.1

This part has written parts with pictures in between.

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When the door to your hospital room swings open, you groan in relief. Finally Jimin was here to jailbreak you. It was great having Lauren, Heeji, and Luna here but they are dutiful bulldogs and you can’t blame them. Your last visit to the hospital had left them pretty traumatized.

Your hopes fall when a man in scrubs steps into the room instead. You had seen him once or twice but you had never exchanged words. In fact, the only reason you remember him at all is because he is white and you thought that was odd, considering you were in a Korean hospital.

“Oh hi,” you say, uncomfortable, when he just stands at the foot of your bed. His head is bowed so you can’t study his face too closely but his presence puts you on edge. He doesn’t respond to your greeting so you push on, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “The nurses just did their rotations and I’m doing fine. Did you need to check something?”

He laughs. A low throaty laugh that has haunted all of your nightmares. Your hands fist around hospital sheets as a cold chill runs up your spine. Swallowing around the lump rising in your throat, you peer closer at him.Mark’s hair is black. This orderly’s is ash blonde. But everything else… you suck in a sharp breath.

“Hello, y/n, did you get my flowers?”

He lifts his head and all his sharp features suddenly come into focus. He has been here the whole time watching you try to recover from injuries that he perpetuated. He looks pleased. And his pleasure makes you want to claw his face off.

“Go to hell, asshole.” You try to sound menacing, to hiss these words like poison, but they only come out a weak, fearful wheeze. Mark clucks his tongue at you.

“Look at you, y/n, trying to be brave when you’re really nothing but a weakling. A cowardly little girl. You would be nothing without me and you know it. You don’t really think you’re going to fight me, do you?”

There’s a glimmer in his eye and it makes you so angry. But the part of you that has endured his abuse for years is still the stronger part and you feel your anger give way to hopelessness. Mark is right. You won’t fight him.

“Good girl. Now, we are going to go on a little field trip, okay?”

You shudder as he steps around the bed and traces the IV still in your arm. You had been waiting until the last second to remove it so the nurses wouldn’t suspect anything if they walked in but now you regret that choice. Mark has no intentions of being gentle with you.

He presses a palm against your mouth, smiling vindictively as the fingers of his other hand loop around the tubes that have been delivering your medicine and fluid for the last few days and yanks the whole thing loose. You whimper into his skin as blood splashes from your open vein.

“How are we supposed to go on a field trip when any camera is going to catch you dragging me out of this room?” you ask him, hoping fleetingly that he hasn’t thought of this. But he’s been here for who knows how long. 

“My little writer,” he coos, snatching your phone from your lap and slipping it into his scrubs pocket, “You really do try to think of everything that can happen, don’t you?”

You glare at him. You have taken abuse from him all these years and still, it’s the patronizing that sets you off every time. And he knows he’s pushed the right button too because he laughs and pats your cheek gently.

“Oh my sweet little y/n, the field trip is right here in the hospital. I’m going to roll you out of here in that wheelchair,” he says, pausing to point to the wheelchair that sits in the corner of your room, “and we’re going to go down the hall. And you’ll do exactly what I tell you to because you know that I have your phone which means I can either let you say goodbye to your friends or make them think that you never want to see them again. Your choice!”

This is so cliche, you think, hobbling out of bed when he gestures for you to get up, like something out of a stupid soap opera. Disguises himself as an orderly and kidnaps me right under everyone’s noses. God damnit. 

Your field trip brings you to a supply closet on the third floor of the hospital which, conveniently, is under renovation. You can’t help but think that Mark is following this cliched script just to piss off the writer in you.

Now that you’re out of sight of the cameras, he has tied your limbs to the chair so you can’t run away. A gag sits roughly in your mouth and cuts against the corners of your lips. Mark is circling you as if deciding where he should start.

Lauren told you that he threatened to do so much worse than put you in the hospital next time he found you and you let your eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

You choose not to think about that. Instead, you let your memories play like old movie reels on the backs of your eyelids. Heeji’s art galleries. Lauren’s photo shoots. And Luna’s ridiculous seances every full moon. 

You stifle a chuckle. No need to bring on Mark’s wrath any sooner than necessary.

And then, newer memories begin to play and a lump rises in your throat. These ones aren’t supposed to be tinged with melancholy. These are supposed to be the memories of starting over. The memories from after you are safe.

You swallow hard.

The flight had already taken a lot out of you. This was just the cherry on top of a totally stressful, life changing ice cream sundae. At least this coffee shop seemed safe and warm while you tried to figure out if you were going to be homeless or not. 

Seoyun, the barista, had been kind enough to give you the WiFi password so looking up your address shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, you lowered your head down on the table with a sigh of defeat. Seoul was so confusing. 

“Oh, I know that look,” a voice sounds above you. Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing, already distrustful of a friendly stranger in the heart of South Korea. He smiles at you and his perfect rows of white teeth are so familiar, you already feel your tense muscles uncoiling. He presses on, “it’s not your first day in Seoul, is it?”

You glance at your luggage and back at him, remembering Lauren’s texts to go find BTS. As if the butt of some cosmic joke, it seems that they have found you instead.

You roll your eyes at him, “what gave it away?”

He glances down at your luggage too and laughs. You study his face carefully so you see the exact moment he makes a decision that will alter the course of both your lives. 

His hands are full with two trays of coffee and he shoves them down on your table without asking. You raise an eyebrow at him, not really surprised by his boldness but somehow taken aback all the same, but he only flashes his brilliant smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of it. He sits down. 

“You look like you don’t trust yourself to breathe. Like you’re trapped in your own brain or something,” he comments. 

You lean forward, reminding yourself to calm the flare of annoyance rising in your chest before you speak. “Jimin,” you say evenly, “do you think you can just sit here with a complete stranger, flirt with her a little bit, and she’ll open up with her whole life story?”

“It’s always worked before,” he chirps back, batting his eyes, that same heart melting grin never wavering. But you see it there behind his gaze. No one has ever called him out on this before and you smile.

“I sincerely doubt that…” you say, trailing off as his hand darts out for the phone you’ve left on the table. You gasp, your reflexes too slow to catch him now, and he giggles swiping through as many un-password protected screens as he can.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that you know where you’re going since you’re sitting in a random coffee shop with all your luggage so, out of the kindness of my heart, I’ve decided to help you find your way,” he says, handing the phone back and gesturing for you to unlock it for him.

Your insides are screaming not to do it. You have to keep a low profile or starting over is going to fail but the earnest look in his eye has you wavering. With a sigh, you unlock the phone and you feel it deep in your gut, everything is over before it’s even begun.

It didn’t really matter what Mark was doing to torture you, just that he was and the pain was excruciating. You had heard a rumor once that after a certain point, the body would stop responding to pain but you were sure now that that was a lie. This was endless.

Your eyes start to roll back when Mark claps in front of your face again. You blink back into focus and your whole body is screaming for relief. He’s looking at you like you should say something to him but you can’t speak, the gag still firmly in your mouth, muffling all your screams.

“Can’t have you dozing off, my favorite little writer, you’ll miss the best part!”

You quirk an eyebrow, inviting him to give his little villain’s speech. He obviously wants to follow the soap opera script so you might as well let him follow it to its natural conclusion. He grins, tracing your jaw line with something icy cold. A knife?

No, you tell yourself, don’t think about that.

“You’re probably thinking how cliche this all must be. The hospital disguise. The hiding in plain sight. You’re probably even thinking that since we stayed in the hospital, it’s inevitable that I will get caught. Which is true. The question is if it will happen before or after I kill you,” he says, “And maybe the more important question is this: why did Mark do this to the thing that makes him all his money?”

The thing? You would spit on him if there weren’t a gag in your mouth.

He leans close, his eyes boring into yours. “And the answer is really quite simple. You disgust me. You think you’re so talented and so clever. Everyone adores you and bends over backwards to care for you and what do you really need protection from? Your big, bad manager and publisher?”

He’s going to keep ranting, you know it, and you don’t want the short time you have left to be spent listening to this tirade. They say it’s normal to disassociate under trauma and so you do, falling into your memories again.

Namjoon had warned you about Yoongi before you even stepped foot in the studio. It still wasn’t enough to stop the way your heart dropped down into your stomach when you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway. 

You had told him after the fact that you didn’t remember this moment but the truth of the matter was, it was impossible to erase this memory from your mind. With all the steel you could muster, you met his gaze. Dark, critical eyes stared back at you, soft pink lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line. 

You offered a gentle smile like it was an olive branch, your knees wobbling while you waited for him to roll his eyes or storm away. But his eyes only widened, those annoyed lips parting in a small ‘o’, color rushing up to dust his round cheeks. 

It made your knees knock together and you ducked your head. What was that? Forget it. If he was going to refuse to meet you, you weren’t going to waste feelings over it.

The next memory spills into recollection almost on top of this one. 

Would it be okay if I came and listened to what you’re working on? you texted Namjoon. 

Jungkook and Hobi were arguing about who got to be Luigi in the next race. You chuckled to yourself, amazed for the billionth time that you had somehow been invited to hang out with these boys again. You had already known they were incredible but actually interacting with them was overwhelming. They were as wonderful as they had always seemed from afar. 

Even, you thought, Yoongi. He had extended a truce but he was still frustrating to no end. What did he mean you could never be friends? He was obviously capable of being friendly and you knew the way he cared for and protected his group members. It shouldn’t sting so much that he didn’t want to be YOUR friend but what could you do?

“Y/n, I curated a meme just for you,” Tae whispers from his place beside you on the couch and you startle when he pushes his phone into your hands. 

“What the hell, Tae?” you burst out laughing, trying to make sense of the chaotic picture before you. He starts laughing too, satisfied by your reaction and takes his phone back. You punch his arm lightly and mutter, “you’re so weird.”

Let me ask Yoongi, your phone chimes. Your stomach surges with some feeling you don’t understand. You remind yourself that you’re just going to hang out with Joon. This has nothing to do with Yoongi and yet…

How is he supposed to become your friend if you let him keep avoiding you?

He says you can’t talk but you can come in.

You’re out of your seat before you have time to think about it more. The boys look up at you in surprise and you announce that you’re gonna hang out with Namjoon a bit before you challenge them to Mario Kart. The look of fear in Jungkook’s eyes sends you into another fit of laughter and you pat his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Kookie, winning isn’t everything!”

“Yes it is!” he groans as you walk away.

In the studio, your stomach starts to dance again. Yoongi doesn’t look up from the scratch paper he’s scribbling on but you can see the way his fingers tighten around his pen. He is as aware of your presence as you are of his. When Namjoon points to the spot on the couch beside him, it takes all your concentration not to trip over your own feet. 

You scold yourself for this silly behavior. There are more adoring members of this kpop group to be mooning over. Mooning over? You are NOT mooning over Yoongi. Who said that? Not you.

Anyway, whatever it is you’re feeling, Yoongi has done nothing to deserve it. So why do your eyes keep landing on him as you survey the room?

“I don’t like that lyric there,” Namjoon says, “maybe we should move it down into the second verse.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes but it’s softened by the small smile playing at his lips. He and Namjoon must have been going back and forth over these lines for quite some time. You watch as he scribbles out the words and moves them lower down the page. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs rise on the back of your arms. He doesn’t look upset that you’re there and that’s almost more unsettling than him insulting you. You press your lips together and search for anywhere in the room to look but him. 

The phone in your lap will have to provide distraction enough. You pick it up and fiddle around between home screens but there’s nothing as interesting there as what’s happening before you so you listen in on the lyrics they’re crafting while you pretend to text the girls. 

Of course, when you find out the song is for E.L. Penn, you spiral. You knew your worlds were going to collide if you stuck around long enough. It’s never been a secret to you that Namjoon was a fan of her work — your work — or that they would have worked with her on the movie if she hadn’t gone on hiatus. 

But you are just an English teacher in Seoul and not the recipient of this song that is making your heart hurt. You can’t believe Mark would hack into your Twitter account just to set this in motion without you. He’s trying to push your buttons and it’s working. 

So you do the only thing you can. You call Lauren. 

When you return to the studio, Namjoon is gone. You knew he would be since he passed you in the hall while you were still on the phone. Yoongi looks up at you in surprise but you only offer a curt nod before beelining for your spot on the couch.

The tears spill out before you can help it and your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi. You feel stupid as you read his stupid question through blurred vision. You respond sardonically and toss your phone onto the couch. 

When he tells you you’re killing the vibe, you almost launch to your feet and run out of the room but Yoongi stops you. You stare at him, mouth gaping open like a fish. 

“You want to what?” you ask, wondering if he’ll scold you for talking out loud to him. 

He reaches for his guitar instead, a sleek, black stained acoustic that you’ve seen in several lives from before you actually knew him. He strums the chords lightly, the sweet sounds discordant in the small space. You blink at him. 

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he says vaguely, “I’m just curious what you think.”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. He frowns at you, his lips puckering and little dimples appearing in the corners of his cheeks. 

“Just be quiet and listen, okay?” he asks it like a question but you know he’s giving a command.

You smile at him a little too sweetly and then settle back into the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest, so you can rest your chin on your knees as he starts to strum. He rolls his eyes at you but there’s a smile in them that you’ve never seen directed at you before. 

Your stomach makes that weird lurch again and you finally resign yourself to what you are feeling. Butterflies. Min Yoongi is giving you butterflies.

#bts #bts smau #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts texts #bts fanfic #ot7 #bts ot7 #yoongi x reader #bts jin #jin #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi #suga #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts hobi #j hope #hobi #bts namjoon #bts rm #namjoon #bts jimin #jimin #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung #bts jungkook #jungkook

[saltyladynightmare]

Jiliu AU Part 2

Beginning, Next, Masterlist

A/N

Warnings:

Blood, blood transfusions, allergic reactions, fake medical practice (I did my research, but google hates me. Also, I need science to Not Work for plot, so...), competent medic who is Not Panicking, bad personal care, implied nudity (?), the clones’ situation, mention of decommissioning (How would a normal person phrase that?), Kaminoans (who really are their own warning), ruthless misuse of the em-dash

The usual host of bad spelling and grammar errors.

Don’t do any of this at home folks. Kix is a professional. I very much am not.

I can finally close the blood loss tab on my browser. It will be another chapter before I can get rid of the Transfusion tab, though...

~~~~

The medbay was quiet. The loudest noises were the Vod’e who wheezed with every breath, or when someone twisted in their bed. The lights were dim to allow the patients to sleep while letting the medics on shift move around freely. Everything was calm, and clean, and not even close to mirroring Kix’s mental state.

He stared sightlessly at the durasteel floor between his blood and dirt smeared boots, elbows to knees, head in hands. If he had enough hair to grab he’d probably be pulling on it. As it was, he settled for digging the pads of his fingers into his scalp. Something hot and heavy was draped over his hunched shoulders, prickly against his neck and the gaps in his armor. Somehow, that weight made it both easier and harder to breathe.

Kix wondered if this was what resignation felt like.

It wasn’t defeat. Kix was well and truly familiar with what defeat felt like. He was a clone medic in a suicide company made of expendable clones, in an army of other clones owned by a Republic that didn’t care if they lived or died, only if they completed their missions. Defeat was a weight Kix kicked off with his blanket every morning before he rolled out of his berth.

This was...heavier. Draining.

He kept replaying the last seven hours in his head, trying to see where he went wrong, could’ve made a different choice.

It had been Kix, his unconscious General, his Captain, and two injured shinies on top of a sheer sided Pilar of Rock with no foreseeable back up. His General was bleeding out right in front of him, because of course the self sacrificing di’kut had run on a leg with a cut artery then proceeded to tear it further open when he landed wrong after an impossibly high jump carrying two entire troopers all by himself.

Kix had needed to preform field surgery to close up the artery with his depleted supplies. There was no way around it, the injury was too severe to simply slap a bacta patch on even if Kix had had a patch big enough to work. Even if he wasn’t half certain bacta didn’t work half as well for General Skywalker as it should.

By the time he had stitched the site shut, the General had lost too much blood. He was laying in a puddle of the stuff, not to mention however much was caked in his clothes and what he’d left behind when they were running.

His skin was as pale as anything Kix had ever seen, though perhaps that shouldn’t have been so surprising since the General did have a lighter skin tone then any of Kix’s vod’e. A quick check marked the General’s heart rate as weak, and way too fast. Slower then it had before he had passed out, but still not good. His skin was clammy.

Kix’s skin was clammy too, but that was fear-sweat, not blood loss. Why hadn’t he noticed that the General was injured? He was going to die—the thought was crushed before it can do more then trace claws of fear down his spine.

He needed an IV. Kix’s medpack didn’t have an IV bag of anything, much less ringer solution.

“Kix.” The Captain’s voice sliced through the buzz of Kix’s thoughts.

Kix’s eyes snapped up and collided with determined brown eyes. His update comes tumbling out of his mouth by route. “I’ve repaired the cut artery, treated the blaster burn with bacta, along with the scratches on his side. He’s lost too much blood, and is going into hypovolemic shock. He needs fluids.” Kix snatched up his scanner from where he’d dropped it to treat the General’s leg, and tapped the screen sharply with a semi-clean knuckle. “I don’t have any to give him.” The device beeped, and the screen showed it was till set to the default natborn setting. Kix ran the wand over the General’s body again, hoping against all sense of logic that this time, this time the thing would find some injury, internal bleeding, stab wound, something for him to treat.

Kix made himself stop. Breathe. Reassess.

General Skywalker had three injuries that the scanner and Ki’s hands had been able to find. All of them have been treated to the best of his ability. The General was dangerously low on blood. He needed fluids. Kix did not have fluids.

Where can Kix get fluids?

“Check in with me, vod.” The Captain ordered.

Kix’s eyes darted back to his eyes. Something clicked together deep down in Kix’s mind. A very very tiny part of his mind noted that something broke to make that possible. This was easily swept aside in favor of the crash of realization rattling through his body.

He shied away from the idea.

He didn’t know enough about blood transfusions. This could go horribly wrong. He only knew this was a thing because of one class, from the single mention made by the sole Mandalorian medic trainer he had, and the resulting eight minutes of research Kix done after.

Even as he thought this, his traitor brain pulled up everything he’d found in those measly eight minutes. Variables, risks, everything blared out at him in warning—there was a reason why blood transfusions are considered a primitive practice.

There was testing. Kix didn’t have any sort of lab with him; he didn’t even have a ph tester kit.

The General’s red blood cell markers match the Vod’e’s.

But the consequences of a bad blood transfusion—

Kix cut his thoughts off there. That way lead panic, and death.

But Rex is right there.

“I will do what I must to save who I can.”

Kix forced the words through his teeth, because he had a vow to keep, and he would follow through. “The General needs fluids.” Or he will die, he didn’t say. “The only fluids we have to give him—” just say it“—is our own.”

Rex had blood. He could spare some for their general, if he was so inclined. If he wasn’t, or if he was, and the General needed more, Kix could spare some.

Kix dismissed the possibility of ‘68 and ‘57 giving blood, because ‘68 was at risk of an infection with how his knee had been skinned then buried in mud, and ‘57 with how his forearm had been filleted with a dirty vibroblade wasn’t any better. Who knew what kind of contaminants they were carrying? Certainly not Kix.

He pushed that from his mind, and reached back into his pack to remove the coil of clear tubing meant for— not this. He will do what he must. Next came the needles. Rex watched silently.

Kix arranged the tube in his lap, and hammered the words that needed to be said together ruthlessly.

“Do you want to go first, or shall I?”

Rex was very still for a very long moment. Then he sighed, and started removing his left vambrace. “I’ll go. If he goes critical, it’d better if you have a clear head.”

Kix nodded sharply, and got to work. He cut the sleeve on the General’s left arm, then cut Rex’s blacks away. A quick bacta wipe, then the first needle went into the crook of Rex’s elbow. Kix moved the tubes until there aren’t any bubbles he can see, and cleaned the crease of General Skywalker’s elbow. He slid the needle in and taped it down.

Just until pick up came.

Within six minutes of Rex’s blood reaching the General’s, hives had formed around all three of his injuries. The three injuries Kix had treated with bacta. Bacta, Kix was eighty-four percent certain the General had a biological resistance to. The hives even showed where traces of the bacterial gel had clung to his gloved fingertips before being smeared onto the skin surrounding the injury he was treating.

General Skywalker is allergic to bacta. This fact was not in his medical file. It is not mentioned anywhere in the rather extensive list of injuries he had raked up over the last decade, or in any of the many, many doctor’s (Healers, Jedi called them healers) notes.

Kix wasn’t entirely certain why he expected anything else.

He makes short work of removing the allergen with a fresh wad of gauze and reached back into his nearly empty medpack. Thankfully, Kix had had the foresight to pack four hypo cartridges of antihistamine when he was putting his medpack together for this mission since the debriefing package on the local plant life included a fern he could name no less then eighteen Vod’e to be allergic to off the top of his head. Kix had, miraculously, not had the need to use any of them since his boots hit the ground. Partly because he had only been in range of a a squad of shinies, Rex, and the General, and possibly because the filters in their buckets had decided to do their job this mission. Which was good, because he would end up needing all four cartridges to keep his General from asphyxiating before pick up.

Kix gave the General the first dose of medication with a hypo to the neck, then checked his heart rate again. Slower then before, likely because the General had actually allowed himself to sleep when Kix had told him to, but still weak. His breathing was still shallow, if more regular.

There was... nothing else Kix could do.

He shared a look with Rex, before settling down at his general’s side. They had time.

Pick up had been a long time coming. Kix gave the General another hypo when the hives started spreading again. Rex had given enough blood that he had started to show symptoms of blood loss, so Kix was forced to transfer the needle to his own arm. He gave General Skywalker another dose of antihistamine.

Time passed, marked only by the changing clock on his HUD, the beat of his own heart in his ears, and when ‘57 went to drag ‘68 closer. The shinies settled on the other side of Rex, who was actually following orders and laying down to allow his blood loss weak body time to rest.

It wasn’t long before Kix started to feel the blood loss himself.

It took ‘57 jumping to his feet, waving his one uninjured arm wildly for Kix to notice that the gunship converging on their position. Rex, he notes with concern, had only sat up instead of getting to his feet. Too much blood. Kix added fluids for him to his ever growing list of things to do.

The gunship landed, the disruption from the stabilizers kicking up clumps of grass and long dead leaves from the sole tree clinging to the top of their Pillar. The door slides open and four Vod’e jump out. One of them, Kix saw, was bright enough to bring out a medpack and a stretcher. The red medic symbol on his spaulder said why.

Kix was on his feet before he could think. A tiny part of him took a sliver of energy to be very glad that the tube connecting his circulatory system to the General’s was long enough for him to do that without ripping anything out. The rest of him just called up the list he’d been making since the mission began, and started rattling off demands.

“You with the medpack, help me get the General on that stretcher. You,” he pointed at the Vod in the lead—who is thankfully not a shiny, small mercies— with his free arm, “help the Captain to the ship, then get a bag of ringer solution ready for him.” Kix pointed at ‘68, who ‘57 was helping to his feet. “He needs to stay off his leg. I need a bag of ringer solution for the General, asap.”

“Sir!” All four of them break to do as they were told.

The medic trotted up, and dropped to his knees. He situated the stretcher in front of him and started prepping the General for transfer. Kix paused for a moment, watching, to just take a moment to gather himself. Then he applied himself to getting the General packed up for pick up.

They are airborne within three minutes.

The moment General Skywalker was settled on the medical rack, Kix set about replacing the tube connecting their arms together with an IV of ringer solution. To the medic he said “Run a scan on him. He’s bleeding from somewhere and my scanner couldn’t find where it is.” He smacked a plaster onto his own elbow, and clamped his forearm to his bicep in hopes of staunching the blood flow.

The moment he had one of his hands free he turned to looking over the other three Vod’e he’s had with him. He checks the needle one of the others had stuck into Rex’s arm, the fluids he was attached to to check it was actually ringer solution. Rex endured his check over stoically.

Satisfied, Kix moved on to the shinies. He only paused long enough to check that the plaster had adhered to his needle puncture, before checking them over. ‘68’s knee was showing early signs of infection, so Kix gave him a hypo of antibacterial to hold him off, and handed him off to the Vod who had carried him onto the gunship. Kix rattled off instructions on how to change the bandages and which antibacterial gel to apply while he did a quick check on his work with ‘57’s hastily relocated elbow.

Kix was back at his general’s side just as the Vod’s scanner beeped.

The other medic didn’t even look up from his scanner as he read off the findings. “A blaster burn, cut and sutured artery that is no longer bleeding, some shallow cuts on his right flank. All of them had been treated with bacta, and all of them are showing signs of a bad allergic reaction. He has some minor bruising as well, and he may have strained his right elbow at some point. He’s running a fever of a hundred and one degrees, and has all of the symptoms of heavy blood loss, sir.” He tapped at the scanner’s screen, and continued. “The fluids will solve the blood loss, but he needs more antihistamines, and we need to bring his temperature down.”

Kix scowled. “Yes, except I’ve spent the last hour and fifteen minutes pouring over a liter of blood into him, and he still needs more blood.” That managed to drag the medic’s visor up to Kix’s. Kix made sure the Vod didn’t look away. “Something is wrong, trooper. Eventually fluids will be all the General has left if we don’t find out where it’s all going.”

The Vod stared at Kix, dumbfounded. His bucket jerked back and forth between him and the comatose General laid out between them. The next second the Vod yanked his vibroknife from his hip, and started cutting off all of the general’s clothing. Kix pulled out his own knife and set about helping.

They find nothing Kix wasn’t already aware of.

Even before they had arrived to the hanger of the Resolute, he and the still unnamed medic had restarted General Skywalker’s heart twice. Immediately after, on both occasions, he had dropped into shock. They managed to stabilize him each time, but only just.

The tingle of passing through the hanger shields washed over Kix as the pilot maneuvered the gunship to a landing. He ignored this in favor of checking his patient’s vitals again.

The General had been doing okay before, so why—

Kix glared at the man’s sleep slack face. Then his eyes slid to one of the Vod’e who had picked them up.

No. This won’t work.

Does Kix want to risk the General on something as mundane as logic? Something asked.

Kix ground his teeth together, eyes narrowing. It was probably a good thing he still had his bucket on; his vod’e didn’t need to see him like this. He looked back at his General. His eyes lingered on the sweat streaking through the dust that had gathered on his skin from their dash through the catacombs, planting the bombs that would hopefully— and had— end the battle. Stop the death, of only for today.

Kix made his call.

Kix gestured for the trooper who had helped the shinies onto the ship to get closer. “Come here, vod. What’s your CT number?” His other hand reached for a new IV line.

~~~~~

Kix had been replaying everything again and again in his head. One of the benefits of an eidetic memory. The replays would follow him to his dreams now, but he couldn’t do anything else. There was no one else to treat, and even if there were, every time Kix tried to focus his eyes back on the real world, he was seeing double. For that same reason, he also couldn’t do the small mountain of datawork that was doubtlessly piling at his desk.

Kix needed to sleep, eat, to take care of himself, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to push against the hot, prickly weight draped over his shoulders. Every time he tried to do more then think about it, it almost got heavier, near dragging him back to his hard, uncomfortable chair. Kix didn’t need much encouragement to stay put.

He was going to have to explain, in words, why he chose to give his General a blood transfusion. Why he kept giving him blood, even after he had access to all of the ringer solution one human man could hold in his body. The blood was obviously harming him, what with the one hundred and three point eight degree fever, and his resulting delirium. IV solutions don’t do that to patients. IV solutions are as neutral as anything possibly can be in the medical field.

They hadn’t been working.

So Kix went back to the thing that had been ‘sort of’ working. The blood that had been half killing him, half sustaining him, instead of the fluids that were letting him die.

Rex had given too much blood. If Kix’s calculations, done after they had gotten back on the Resolute, were correct, Rex had let Kix drain almost a liter of his blood into their dying General. It was too much. Kix himself had given about half a liter. That had been pushing it, and he wasn’t too sure how much of his current exhaustion was from the missing blood.

While the General hadn’t shown signs of improvement from all that blood, he had gotten worse when Kix had switched him over to the fluids. Almost as if he was still loosing blood, for all that the only other injuries they had been able to find was a slightly twisted knee that really only needed rest and an ice pack.

In the end, General Skywalker was given just over nine point three liters of blood from no less then nineteen Vod’e before he stabilized. Besides Rex, all gave a little under half a liter.

He had a high grade fever of one hundred and three point eight, delirium, excessive sweating, shallow breathing, and pale, clammy skin. High iron content in the blood to the point of being almost dangerous, an extremely high white blood cell count though they had no way to know if they were his cells or one of his donors’, more then a few inflamed organs, and hives. Hives anywhere bacta touched him, including the spot some bright soul had decided to test Kix’s ‘theory’. On top of it all, he was officially unconscious. The only reason none of them gave him painkillers to ease his rest is due to the promise he had extracted from Kix on his first pre-battle examination. The only reason.

By the time the small team of medics working on him had gotten him stable, Kix was numb to everything except the yawning void of fear pulling on his bones. A silence settled on them as they stood around their patient’s bed, staring.

Coric was the one to shatter it. “Well.” He peeled off the sanitary glove, and balled them up in a fist. Kix felt him turn to look at him. “There isn’t anything else we can do for him. The rest is up to him.”

Kix washed his hands on habit, then found himself sinking into a waiting chair at General Skywalker’s bedside. He’d had to feel around for the soap dispenser, and he wasn’t entirely certain how he’d found the chair after, but...it was nice, to be off his feet.

It had been...a few hours since then.

Kix had been reduced to trying to think of how he could have done more, done better. Absolutely nothing comes to mind. Considering the options he had at the time, a tiny corner of Kix’s mind was actually kind of amazed the General had survived to this point. All that meant, however, was that he would die a long, slow death from bad blood, instead of a relatively painless one from blood loss.

Kix couldn’t do more for him. It was up to Anakin Skywalker and his rather impressive will power to decide if he could overcome this. If he didn’t—well.

The 501st would be without a General once more, and Kix would be decommissioned for his failure. The Kiminoans would make sure of that. On the bright side, Kix wouldn’t have to worry about much of anything anymore, so there’s that. Another nice thing is that lethal injection is a very quick way to die. On the other hand, it meant he would be leaving his di’kut vod’e behind to look after themselves, and the most experienced medic after himself is Coric, who is only a first aid specialist.

Kix rubbed his face tiredly. The weight curled more around his shoulders, like a really half-hearted prickly hug.

The only thing Kix could do right then was wait, hope, and—maybe—pray in hopes that something greater then one exhausted medic would save his general when he cannot.

The door of the medbay opened, then closed. Quiet steps, with a deliberate toe smack with each impact, moved toward Kix’s position.

Kix could recognize those steps in any state of mind.

Jesse’s boots scuffed the durasteel flooring right in Kix’s line of sight. Kix noted with a mildly concerning level of apathy that his boots are much cleaner than Kix’s. Freshly cleaned, if his unreliable vision can be trusted on even this small thing. Kix was going to need to clean his own armor soon.

“Kix?”

Kix focused back on the world around him, unclear on when he’d zoned out. He found Jesse crouched in front of him. If Kix knew anything in that moment it was that Jesse had a worried expression on his face, even if his bucket hid it from view. Gloves hands hovered near Jesse’s chest plate, palms toward Kix like they wanted to grab hold of him.

Kix blinked at him. He should move, acknowledge that he had heard Jesse at the very least, but it didn’t seem like the message was leaving his skull much less reaching his muscles.

Jesse moved closer, but still made no move to actually touch him. Kix dropped his eyes to those hands, and waited.

“What do you need, Kix?”

Kix counted each breath in and out of his lungs. He held that question in his mind, and waited for an answer. He did not know what he needed but something in him probably did. It came.

He needed the war to end, brothers to stop dying. He needed a life long vacation someplace safe and comfortable. He needed his datawork to be done, preferably by someone else. He needed food, a shower, and a really long nap. He needed the General to be okay.

Jesse couldn’t help with most of that.

So Kix rolled his jaw until he felt it reconnect to his brain, and said what Jesse could help him with.

“Shower.” It was almost slurred beyond recognition, but it left his mouth, and that was as good as it was going to be right now. Kix let it pass. “Food.” That was clearer. He hesitated on the next bit, because he knows what he will find in his dreams, and it wasn’t going to be him saving General Skywalker’s life. Kix also knew that he would have to face the firing squad eventually. The question was whether or not he wanted to do it on his own terms with company, or when he inevitably collapsed.

Let it never be said Kix was a coward.

He sighed, and let his eyes slide closed. “Sleep.”

Jesse shuffled forward until his poleyns knocked into Kix’s greaves. “Will you accept my help with those things?” He asked softly.

Kix knew he wasn’t going to be talking for a while, so he did the easier thing and tilted his body to the side until he could free a hand to hold out in reply instead. Jesse gripped his bare hand in his own gloved one, and dragged Kix’s arm over his armored shoulders. This threw off the careful balance Kix had been keeping to avoid crashing to the floor, but Jesse was prepared for that. He shouldered Kix’s slightly bulkier mass, and hulled him up to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist. Jesse’s spaulder dug unpleasantly into Kix’s armpit, but it was keeping him from face planting, and Kix moved the discomfort so far down his priority list it fell off the end. He let himself sag against his side. Jesse swayed to absorb his weight.

He felt Jesse’s helmet move. “Where’s your bucket?”

Kix waited for the memory of where he’d put it come to him. It did not. He conveyed this to Jesse.

Jesse just squeezed his side. “Well, you can get it in the morning, or I can. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jesse took a step and waited patiently for Kix to remember that he was supposed to move with him before taking the next. Sometime between one step and the hallway, the hot, prickly weight around Kix’s shoulder pulled away with a squeeze.

In what felt like half a lifetime and what was probably much less then that, Jesse half directed, half carried Kix’s dead weight through the medbay doors, away from his duties, and their dying General whom he could do nothing more for.

#anakin skywalker #ct-6116 #medic kix #ct-7567 #captain rex #original clone troopers #ct-5597 #jesse #coric #blood loss #blood transfusion #fake medicine #clone wars #501st legion #jiliu au #Half-Force Anakin Skywalker

[jostepherjoestar]

An Educational Favour: IV

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Formaggio x reader and Risotto close by, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, taking it slooooow, butt stuff (penetration), discussion of prepping too!, the tension between ris and you is just.. wow

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART IV: 🧀Formaggio🧀

You slumped down on the beanbag that huffed under your movements, a few kernels that filled the bag twirling as the air pushed them out. Just like the seating you let out a long sigh, pulling the thick sweater sleeves over your hands and sitting on them in annoyance, trying to stop yourself from nervously chewing on your nails. Nothing felt right today, the way the sun barely broke through the clouds causing a dreary mood to settle on home-base, every glance in the mirror making you tug at your appearance, straightening your posture in attempt to look even slightly appealing to your own critical mind. Choosing the bulky sweater and your soft pyjama pants to grace the figure you so condemned today. Not all days are meant to be great but it was a disappointing start since later on you’d made plans to go on another titillating adventure, this time with the easygoing man named Formaggio. You weren’t dreading it but after you spilt your coffee all over the kitchen counter this morning and stubbed your toes on the heavy couch that rested a few meters away from you, glaring at it while sat in the one thing that couldn’t hurt you for now, you weren’t sure if today would even go right. 

The entire atmosphere seemed to move against you, like a migrating salmon moving upstream, waiting for a bear to come put you out of your misery. Speaking of bears… Risotto’s large figure waltzed into the room as you huffed out an amused chuckle as you imagined him sinking his claws into your scaly body and tearing at your flesh. Not quite the ravaging you’d asked him for. “Is everything alright there?” His familiar deep voice coaxing you out of the conflicting fantasy to meet his gaze. It seemed that today had also claimed your capo as their unfortunate victim. Thin black coloured metal frames resting on his shapely nose, the one that reminded you so much of Michelangelo’s David, carefully chiseled after much consideration. He reserved his glasses for off days, just like his relaxed outfit of pyjama pants and a black robe, the sparkling image of comfort. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Today just feels… off.” Resounding the last word in perfect unison before Risotto chuckled, the sound alone unearthing a pleasant feeling. “Let’s hope Formaggio is in good spirits.” He huffed while taking a seat on the creaky leather couch, groaning a bit as he stretched his arms over the backrest. 

“What was that about being in a good mood?” The smooth cadence ringing out into the quiet space of the living room. His words followed by a long stretched out yawn, feet dragging over the wooden floor as if lifting them were an arduous chore. It seemed the universe claimed yet another one into the lazy mood, like it forced all to remain seated or else you’d face its wrath of misfortune. Not that a peaceful day hadn’t been a welcome one, the strain of working jobs could lay heavily on the shoulders of La Squadra Esecuzioni. “Today’s a bit shit, huh?” Groans of approval coming from the two men lounging on the couch. “What are we gonna do about tonight? Cancel?” You spoke up, worried that it just wasn’t the right day and you’d have to reschedule which would mean a longer wait and some shuffling of the roster to make it work out. 

“Nah, too much of a bother. Besides, maybe it’ll work out just fine. No one’s home right now anyway.” It was true, it would be a bother and no one was home besides the three of you, all out on their respective assignments. You silently wished them all a more successful day considering the mood. You hummed in agreement as you got up to join them on the leather seats, trying to choose the perfect spot. But between Risotto’s large figure spread out so widely and Formaggio not really bothering to close his legs, there was no more room to speak of. “Hey! What about me?” You whined, tugging at the hem of your soft sweater, not up for a fight. “Got a special seat right here lady.” Formaggio’s smug grin darting between your figure and the space between his groin and the couch. You shot your capo a pleading look, begging him to step in like an annoyed child asking their mother to scold their older sibling. 

“Don’t look at me, we’re all adults here.” That little smirk starting to dent his cheek ever so slightly, letting you know there was no ally to be found in your dark eyed colleague. He looked so handsome and refined wearing those frames, different than his usual rugged state that was no less attractive. “As I said… there’s no one home but us.” The grey haired man smothering his words in a heavy helping of salaciousness as he eyed you up again. Sensing the shifting mood, letting a few familiar tingles loose inside of you as you fidgeted, unsure if you should take the bait. “I-I haven’t gotten ready yet, Formaggio. I look like a mess!” Today’s critical mind still gnawing at you, never one to easily back down. You’d been glad your previous partners had received the confident you that was her own proud cheerleader, but today she was on break, leaving you in front of a filled stadium with no remorse. “Pfft. A mess? Jesus, you couldn’t look bad if you tried. I’ll show you just how pretty you are, inside and out.” He gestured you over again, his expression a bit sterner to meet the seriousness of his words. It wasn’t just to make you feel better, he was being truthful. Risotto just admired from his comfortable crook, wishing to chime in on the complements but opting to just let Formaggio do the sweet talking. 

You finally take him up on the offer and slid in between his legs, letting his arms slip through your elbows to cradle you into his touch as he pressed his torso closer to your back. Hot breaths tickled your neck, a sensitive shudder moving through you, straight down into your panties. Grabbing onto his hand that locked you into him as he gently moved aside your hair to place wet kisses along your neck. Lazily sucking at your tender skin, making you let out a small moan when another shiver ran through you, earning a chuckle from him. “Are you always this sensitive? Then again, by the sounds I’ve heard coming from you, that might be true.” Feeling his surprisingly soft lips curl into a smile as he continued leaving marks. Remembering just how audible you’ve been with the rest, bringing a blush to your cheeks as your skin heated in reaction. You could feel Risotto’s laser-focus on you, admiring just how cutely you were reacting to the intimate pecks. 

As Formaggio made his way to your cheek, planting more wet sloppy kisses wherever he felt like, you felt his grip around you loosen and his hand snaking under your sweater to grope your chest. Toying with your nipple through the fabric of your thin bralette, his pulls and teases only making you more satisfied with the choice of undergarments. Your soft pants were cut off by his lips ghosting over yours, deep hums tickling you as he lingered over them, basking in the barely-there touch. His movements remained at such a leisurely pace, so intoxicating it subdued any feelings of impatience, his actions reflecting his personality; lax and engaging.

His plump lips like a warm hug as he met yours, hand still kneading your breast as a tentative squeeze made you moan into him. Moving in deeper, welcoming him into your awaiting mouth as his curious tongue set the pace to slow and steady. Wet sounds filled the air with the occasional muffled moan. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know that? The way you so eagerly let go, so ready to get lost. You’ve driven us all quite wild, kitten.” Every word sticking to your flushed cheeks like glue as his sweet voice whispered, getting drunk off of his praise. 

“Could you take those off for me sweetheart?” You hummed in reply, he had already been toying at the edge of your soft pyjama bottoms, his head moving back into your neck where he stayed and placed more wet pecks, nibbling at your ear to egg you on. You made quick work of your bottoms, now bare, resting on the leather couch cushions warmed by your combined body heat. “Move up your legs a bit, I’ll treat you so good, darlin’.” You moved back further into him so you could bend your knees and rest your feet on his spread knees. You felt so exposed, cold air contrasting the warmth Formaggio was giving off behind you. Your breasts aching, wanting to feel his touch again as he slid out his hand from under your sweater, his other arm coming around to grasp you like your capo had done so sweetly last time as Ghiaccio pleased you.

Carefully, as if handling a precious work of art, the man let thick fingers slide over your folds, already glistening in your wetness from his sultry work in your neck. His delicateness making your breath hitch and your feet desperately trying to cling onto his knees. “So sensitive, so sweet. You want me to touch you more?” He singsonged so closely into the shell of your ear. He could coax anything out of you if he kept up his alluring pace. As you nodded with a needy moan he slid between them, working a finger aggravatingly slow over your clit. As more mewls escaped while you clung to his thighs, digging into them whenever he rubbed just right, he kept his lazy sucking going, sure he’s left a mark on your neck by now. “Do you want Risotto to touch himself too, just as slowly as us?” He grinned, having heard from Illuso just how much you like that. “Y-yes please.” You stuttered, words having a hard time leaving your lips as he kept up his leisurely movements. 

The creaks of the leather let you know Risotto was doing just as asked, your eyes were too busy being pressed shut from Formaggio’s expert circles to check. “We’re gonna take our time today, kitten.” A cheeky nibble at your earlobe as he spoke so tenderly. The memory of the strange energy that made you question today’s success already a forgotten one, what your were up to now was a lot more worthy to stick around your consciousness. 

Squelching sounds from how incredibly wet the slow pace made you harmonised so well with the barely audible sound of Risotto’s heavier breathing as he calmly stroked himself. The pace urging both of you to remain patient as heat started to build up steadily. Like water slowly rising, a steady flow being let in to painstakingly reach its limit. Formaggio occasionally dipped into your warm hole, slowly collecting your essence and spreading it over your folds. He worked you all over, giving your entire pussy the attention it deserved. As your breathing got heavier with the rising heat of your orgasm, walls clenching around nothingness, his pace didn’t falter, continuing his skilful rubs over your overly sensitive bud. “Do you want to come?” He purred into your neck, breaths so hot and heavy it made you want to combust. “P-please!” You begged so sweetly, he was already planning on letting you come but that whine sent a jolt straight to his hardening cock, twitching as it rubbed against your behind. “Do you want Risotto to come too?” His mischievous question paired with a quick dip between your aching walls. “Not y-yet.” It was an honest reply, you knew Formaggio wasn’t leaving you after rubbing you so nicely. Your capo will have to stretch his patience even thinner and slow his movements even more. The dark eyed man groaning as he heard your reply, but not of annoyance or denying him his pleasure for a little while more. The way you made him obey orders, even as softly as you gave them, made him only want to please you more. This whole endeavour of observing and letting his teammates have a say in his actions greatly aroused him, but most of all it was the slow build up to the end; having you all to himself. 

Formaggio chuckled into your crook, letting you get your wish as he worked you through the rising gratification. The limit had been reached as you breathed out deeply with a loud continuous moan as it overflowed slowly, the peak only dragged out as the grey haired man kept his steady movements going to let you ride it out. Squirming through the ripples, pinching your knees together as you clamped your nails into his thighs to ground yourself from the full body sensation. The pool had stilled, panting as you slowly regained your senses, the feeling of your own wetness dripping onto the couch causing a small smile to appear onto your satisfied face. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to make you come. All those times I heard you, I only wished it was me that was making you feel so good.” A sloppy, wet suck onto your neck that had been lapped so delicately throughout. “Thank you Formaggio.” You sighed, the thought of him stroking himself while the others fucked you such a titillating visual it made your walls clench again. “Oh don’t thank me now, sweetheart. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna go grab something, could you lay down for me?” His voice leading you down as he gently placed your feet back onto the floor.

As he slid out from behind you and left the room, still riding on the high of the thorough orgasm you silently met your capo’s gaze. Stroking his large member ever so slightly, grasping the base firmly while his thumb caressed his sensitive underside. His frames had crept down his nose, his eyes so focused on yours, tethered onto you as you moved closer. The tension so palpable it made your hand tremble as you pushed the bridge of the frames back up his stunning nose. Slowly retracting, clinging onto every bit of self control not to kiss the beautiful specimen in front of you. You hesitated for a second, letting yourself linger in his space before deciding it would be best to move down like Formaggio had asked. It took just as much strength from your capo to restrain his desire, holding back from taking you into his arms. Instead he kept up his increasingly slow strokes, letting his pleasure build.

Formaggio returned, glad to see you’ve positioned yourself like he had asked, head resting near Risotto’s figure while your legs spread out. “I assume you’ve prepped just like I asked, kitten?” The man moved back onto the couch, placing himself between your legs, holding a bottle of clear lube he’d brought with. His gaze so lovingly taking in the blush on your cheeks as you nodded. God you were such a treat, waiting to get ravaged. Somehow, even after literally just making you come, you were a bit embarrassed to admit you prepped yourself to let him play with your ass. “Good girl.” He praised while moving his hands over your legs carefully. “Let’s play first, get you used to it huh?” Moving his bottoms down to meet yours on the floor, his hardened cock just as casual as its owner. Uncut and packing girth as it bobbed while he moved, a small gathering of pre-come beading at the head of his adequate length. 

“We’re going to keep going slow, ok? Don’t get too worked up when my dick’s in your pretty mouth.” That warm chuckle making your muscles relax as he moved over you, his member looming over your face as his warm breaths tickled your inner thighs, opening them further. Remembering his words you nipped at his cock, soft lips pecking the tip as your deft finger moved downward to reveal his head. Languid licks like honey dripping on a cold day; slow and at its own volition. His groan of satisfaction so buttery and smooth into your plush skin. Formaggio’s hands massaged your thighs and hips, kneading them in an attempt to relax every muscle before starting his exploit of your tight hole. 

There’s a first time for everything, the very reason you had embarked on this exploit. As exciting as the last few times were, nervousness remained at the though of letting Formaggio play with a different hole. He’d asked beforehand if you were comfortable with it, his charms doing the talking, relaxing you and assuring it was alright if you weren’t. But that eager curiosity’s hold on you was ever so strong, bravery pushing you further to accept. The preparations he asked of you were simple: clean thoroughly and try out a finger or two when you’re playing with yourself. And to your surprise it was nowhere as bad as you expected, making you all the more excited to let more experienced hands work away at you. 

While it was a struggle to contain your excitement, the relaxed and sloth like aura Formaggio emitted helped you remain calm. Slow, twisting movements over his girth, having received a dollop of the cool gel on your fingers, lewd squelching sounds erupting every time you moved up and down his shaft. You’d suckle on his tip, tongue moving and flicking at the dripping slit, making sure to take all the time in the world while he began rubbing over your hole. The previously chilly lubed fingers heating up considerably, the way you were burning up from the sensation spreading through you. The slick tip of his thick finger gently pressing in while he groaned, mumbling how tight you were under his breath. As he moved his finger deeper it made you stop rubbing him for a second, regaining your breath, trying to relax your muscles so you’d enjoy the sensation. 

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re doing good. We’re gonna keep going before I stuff you with my dick.” Your moan vibrating through his hard cock when he pulled out. Only to return with another finger, adding even more of the slick lube. As he moved in you felt your walls contract in pleasure, your core aching for stimulation as Formaggio started pumping in and out to work you open. Moaning louder and louder, the pleasure so different than anything else you’ve experienced. Saliva dripped out of the corner of your mouth, salivating while you took his heavy sack in your mouth to play with them. The way he let out a hiss while you felt them twitch let you know just how much he liked it. 

You were getting so worked up by his actions, patience growing ever thinner as you wished for him to fill you up. “Formaggio I need you. Please fuck me.” A whiny beg, so needy. It only made him chuckle, your eagerness so endearing. His teammates weren’t wrong when they said you were such a good girl. “Can’t deny you, now can I?” He grinned while moving over you, placing himself between your legs, admiring the way your pussy was still dripping and awaiting any new form of stimulation. It almost made him feel bad that he would be working your tight little asshole instead. Almost. 

His shaft was still thoroughly wet from the way you slobbered all over him, mixed with the generous dollop of lube he’d provided you with. His spongy tip prodding at the tight muscle, shushing you and kneading your hips to let you relax. As he slowly entered, letting you engulf his tip he waited, hissing and groaning at the feeling of your walls constricting him. “Fuck, you are so damn tight!” Letting himself gently work further into you, the feeling of his thick cock so delicious inside you while you whined. He finally let his hand that guided his thickness inside of you go, letting his hips set a gradual pace. Those skilful fingers now moving back to rub soft circles on your aching clit, the return so welcome as you moaned loudly at the simultaneous stimulation. Back arching off the couch as you felt your pleasure earn footing again, building slowly just like before. “Risotto… Speed up.”

Your command a welcome one to your throbbing capo, his length now a dark red from the prolonged stimulation, questioning if there was any blood left in his body that hadn’t rushed to his cock. As if a conductor urging their orchestra, harmonising moans and groans filled the room, your capo finally letting himself get comfortable with being a little more noisy. Formaggio felt his own pace falter, speeding up to chase his release as his circles on your clit grew faster and tighter. Moving in tandem with his thrusts inside your strained hole, he felt you clench, milking him, bringing him just at his limit before he pulled out. He continued at a fervent pace over your bud, his other hand stroking his shaft as thick ropes of pearly cum landed on your stomach after he moved up your sweater. His buttery voice so beautifully hoarse now when his breath hitches during his orgasm. Just as he did, your own followed, the familiar waves of pleasure careening through you, pressing your eyes shut, letting yourself get back down from the peak. 

Not even needing a command, Risotto came too. A groan so sweet and deep, his body tensing up and twitching at his long awaited peak. Thick strokes of cum landed in your hair, the man behind you not expecting the orgasm to hit so hard. “Shit!” It only made you giggle at the feeling, knowing you’d end up in the shower anyway. You set yourself back straight on the cushions, blush still covering your cheeks and chest, the sweater getting too hot and constricting. Taking it off along with your bralette, sighing at the satisfaction of the newfound experience. “Was that any good?” Formaggio huffed as he tiredly slid down next to you, a gentle hand squeezing your thigh. “More than good Maggi. You’re really good with your hands.” Chuckling at the way his ministrations made bliss flood all over your body. “Why don’t you tidy up here. I’ll get her cleaned up.” Risotto’s voice surprised you, when he remained so still in his corner, breaths so soft you barely heard them; it was like he’d merged with the couch itself. “Yea sure, whatever you say.” Formaggio looked about ready to pass out, eyes drooping as he slid deeper into the couch, all tuckered out from his work. 

It felt nice to have Risotto be so adamant on taking care of you afterwards. A ritual he didn’t want to let another indulge in. Even last time, after the cuddle session that followed Ghiaccio’s meeting, he insisted on helping you get cleaned. Not that his face would let it show, but he felt dejected when you replied you’d take a shower yourself, any more stimulation to your skin setting it aflame after the rough get-together. 

Just like before he ran a bath for you, letting the soft bubbles grow bigger. He looked so adorable now, those glasses really suited him, offering a softer balance to his features. “You look very cute in those Risotto, you should wear them more often.” You chuckled while staring up at him from the warm tub. He had stayed and rested on the side, having taken off his robe so he could dabble his arm in the water. He looked a little too deep in thought, staring at the ripples his movements created through the foam. “Do you want to get in?” Your cute smile and that bright twinkle in your eyes so alluring, like a siren in his very own residence. He had been thinking about it, wanting to hug you close while you gently got each other all washed up. “No, it’s ok. Later. Take your time.” His deep sigh making you question if that’s what he actually wanted. You willed yourself not to get too caught up, not to assume what he’d been thinking. 

For now you’d just try and relax, soaking up the heat from the relaxing bath and checking off another wish. Your memory book starting to get quite full of experience thanks to your teammates. The last three candidates left offering the final challenges. A devious grin at the thought of the final champions. 

#woof risotto and reader are really building shit up huh #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #formaggio x reader #risotto x reader #jjba smut #la squadra #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jjba imagines #not sfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #formaggio

[bun-ika]

Trauma rambling. Pretty severe abuse mentioned, suicide, self harm, sexual assult, domestic violence. Maybe just don't read it. I just wanted to get it out.

[[more]]

[

It's really funny how you just learn to live with things. I've had too much coffee today and I'm up and exhausted thinking. There is so much ive just... forgotten, lr shrugged away over the years. Buried under other things that have happened. I dont know how my mind just brushed away the rape(s) that happened and i was told not to talk about. The countless times my mom ran to my bedtoom as a little girl screamng to baracade the door from my dad, who would scream and puch and bang relentlessly. Or the day we woke up to my mom telling us to hurry and pack the most important things we can think of because we were running away that day while my dad was working. Or that i raised my little brother, only to have him go to my dad after being "old enough" to make the choice (and no one faught it even thiught it woukd have been considered kidnapping). The first time stepping foot in that house to see the holes in the walls, the slash marks on all moms paintings. In the walls.. The times my dad would drag me downstairs and show me the rafters in the workshop, telling me how he stood with a rope around his neck because of us. Because of my mom. Because of everthing. Or when i finally confronted my dad as an angry child (maybe 13?) About a letter promising to kill my mom and her family, only to have him put me in a headlock and try to choke me to death. I remember losing my breath and kicking, screaming, clawing, finally biting, and i ran faster than i ever have, i swear. Nothing happened. No one did a thing about the bruises around my throat. The nothing that happened when she walked in on me cutting myself and just closed the door. Let me keep doing it through the years. It never mattered, I was still doing my job for her. It took me a long time to realize that's really all that mattered. And I understand, I get it. After the mess of everything, we all need help and to be taken care of. I think it broke her. I miss the person she was horribly. I grieve her every day. But I don't know who she is now. Who told me never to call again. Who didn't show up when I died twice after a successful suicide attempt and landed in the icu, babbling about being used for a year as a convenience, not love. The heartbreak of realizing you were nothing, meant nothing, and always woukd be nothing to the people you gave up your life, and family for. How they made sure to tell me I was never a part of it. Object. She never came.

It's all buried. Because one terrible man I gave myself to broke me. From yelling at me when I was sleeping, trying to sleep, or trying to fuxk me when I was asleep (and then screaming at me), to locking me in rooms and took my clothes so I couldn't run. Screamed and berated me for every last thing you can think of for hours. "You can't always just cry." Holes in the walls. Death threats. Suicide threats. The gun. Screaming. Pounding. Where, shut, disgusting. Never believed I'd been raped. "I bet you liked it. I bet you asked for it, begged for it, liked it better than me." "How could I ever love someone like you," "how could I ever marry you," "look what you make me do." It never stopped. And in my head it never has. The day I left was the day I had a seizure at work after finding out he had been cheating on me (which I knew) but with a woman he was in a relationship with and telling he loved her. Later, i found out about the countless others. She ended up having her own horror stories. I still wake up screaming, fighting, begging. I can't sleep anymore. I'm scared. I developed a seizure disorder linked to trauma. Later, a "friend" that was my one remaining friend and support was the one I turned to during another suicide attempt. Knowing I was actively in the middle of this and overdosing, he gave me more pills and violently raped me through the night and into the morning. Laughed as I fell unconscious. Threw up. It didn't matter, and he never stopped.

Now, there is so much I forget after acquiring a brain injury from dying and damage from the narcotics I took to do it. Nevermind the mental health aspect or any of my chronic illness. But I remember so much I wish I didn't. I wish I could remember the things I just looked at, get words out properly, remember short-term.... I'd love to forget.

#tw ptsd #tw sex assault #tw sui attempt #tw assualt #tw #tw su1c1d3 #tw depressing thoughts #tw mention of death #tw murder

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 16

////TW SA mentioned/hinted at/// Depiction of a panic attack as well

The hospital was a buzz with energy, which was a bit weird considering how small the town was. Were there really this many patients today? You honestly didn't know, hell for the longest time you weren't even sure this was a hospital when you moved here.

That was changed recently, like very recent. Last night in fact when you had been forced awake by medical staff trying to determine your condition. That sadist doctor of yours kept a small smile on their face the entire time you groaned about wanting sleep. They had simply tutted at you saying you needed to be monitored for several hours before they could let you rest.

Thankfully you hadn't seen them today but it was only ten thirty. A lovely nurse had been checking in with you all morning, even before you woke up. He'd come in when you had buzzed after waking up in pain and given you a dose of your medicine through your IV drip. When you questioned him about where you were he seemed to still in concern. Worried that you hadn't remembered your accident that lead you here.

After assuring him and giving him a play by play of your day yesterday, giving him the assumed day, and answering who the current president was he let you off the hook. Mark, your nurse, had been very keen to tell you the Cowell family is in charge of your care and will be here later in the day to visit with you. Granted you actually feel up to visitors. Which you take as code for 'would you like me to deny visitors?'.

You let him know you'll be fine with visits after ten. Knowing full well how fast news can travel in the small town it's only a matter of time before a parade of Hornets meander through to check in on you. First you wanted to grab your bearings before being thrown to your overly concerned friends.

Or maybe they weren't overly concerned after all you did just experience a home invasion that left you hospitalized. Simply being concerned is a natural reaction to your situation. But your head hurts just thinking about anything right now. So, you'd like to take a moment for yourself, have a bit of time to process everything.

Either way you'd been right, news travels fast in this small town. Nearly all the lodge residents had been waiting for an hour to see you when ten rolled around. At ten on the dot Aubrey, Barclay, and Jake stormed into your room and surrounded you like piranhas in a frenzy. You looked towards Dani, Hollis, Kirby, and several other lodge staff members for help only to get small smiles and a shake of the head.

They wouldn't be helping you out of this anytime soon. You just had to endure the genuine concern and affection from your friends. Luckily for your splitting head the visit only lasts thirty minutes before everyone has to leave. Life still goes on even when a loved one is in the hospital. With several promises to return tomorrow and requests that you take it easy the rambunctious group was gone.

You relax into your bed before turning on the TV and finding something mind numbing to watch. The food network works! You hope Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives is in the roll today. You're in luck as it starts playing right after the commercials.

The voice of your doctor is getting closer to your room. Great if you weren't already upset by the atrocity happening with the pizza at that restaurant then you are surely in a sour mood now.

“Well sir we hope you can reason with the child. They have simply fought us each time we've brought up the tests. We'd say it was mildly impressive that they held such coherence last night, had it not been for the headache it has given us.”

Oh here we fucking go again.

“I don't need the tests.”

No one had made it through the threshold before you spoke. Everyone froze at your cold tone. Until the doctor makes a motion towards you.

“As you can see, they're very stubborn.”

“I'm not stubborn you're just not listening to me. I haven't had sex in a year so I don't need a pregnancy test and I just got bashed around last night. I don't need an invasive search done.” You ignore the Cowell family as you speak to the doctor, “I find it concerning how keen you are to do a rape test on me even though I've repeatedly told you I just got banged up in the scuffle. Nothing more.”

The doctor still has their small smile placed just ever so on their face. There's something really off about them. Even under normal circumstances you hate hospitals and doctors. Mainly because they never listen to you about your issues, something you know would be even worse if you had 'Autistic' labeled in a medical file. But something about this doctor seriously rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you two knew each other in  previous life and it was coming back to bite you in the ass now.

“Doc, the kid says they don' need a test, then they don' need the test.” Big Jo says breaking the staring contest between you and the doctor as they slide their gaze away from you to look at Big Jo.

You take no little satisfaction from seeing their stupid smile finally leave their face. It isn't long before it's replaces and they bound over to you. Poking and prodding you, jabbing with a lot more force than they should need to. After a small adjustment to your IV they clear you for this check up and allow the Cowells to have their visit with you.

“Something's off about them.” you say cautiously after the family steps into the room.

Big Jo sighs, “Ye' but they took care 'o ya last night kid.” Ushering his family through he closes the door behind them only to turn back to you with a stern expression, “so ya better play nice with 'em got it?”

Fighting back the intense urge to roll your eyes you nod, before turning to Little Jo who's made her way over to your bedside in her hands several thick graphic novels. The same ones your store started to carry a few weeks back. Looking up from the books you see her watery and puffy eyes. What she takes from Big Jo in personality she takes from her mother in empathy.

“I-I-I yip-yip I thought yip you might get bored so I yup wanted to let you borr-yip-borrow these.”

When she places the books onto the small table beside your bed you can see the tremors that rake through her hands. Choosing not to comment or bring any attention on the tween's obvious nerves you settle for an ice breaker.

“Thanks, don't know how much more crimes against pizza I can stomach.” motioning to the TV where a man is making paper thin crust on pizza to have a pizza that cooks in a minute.

That's not pizza it's cooked cheese and tomato sauce with toppings. Not pizza at all.

Jo nods softly, her normal enthusiasm no where to be found today. A pang rips through your chest as you watch her eyes cast downwards. With no clue how to help her feel better you have to swallow the sigh in your throat to not make the air heavier than it already is. Dia and Big Jo aren't much help either when you spare them a glance.

Dia herself is wiping her eyes with a tissue and sniffles escape her every few seconds. Not much is different bout Big Jo, he may have more prominent eye bags today but you weren't going to judge him for not sleeping. Even under normal circumstances you didn't have ground to stand on. Mark mentioned Big Jo was the one who found you from what he'd over heard at the nurses' station this morning.

Knowing this made the foreboding feeling in your stomach grow. The way he's looking at you with his cold stoney stare-he's not even really looking at you more through you. But his stare pierces you and sends the pit in your stomach lower than you thought possible. If it wasn't so chilly in the room you'd probably be sweating right now.

“Dia, why don' ya take Josephine home.”

Hearing this you lift your hand up to Little Jo before she has a chance to scurry out of the room with her mother. She looks at your hand and then back to you before launching herself into you with a crushing hug. Gravity doesn't help your case as the child's entire weight is on your prone form, you hadn't sat up when they came into the room.

“Get better soon.” the pain was worth it to hear the small plea. She at least felt a little better if she could talk without her vocal tic interrupting her.

After you pat her on the back and promise to rest up she's out the door with her sobbing mother. It's a quiet few moments after the door shuts before Jo takes a step towards your bed. If the pit in your stomach went any lower you're sure you'd be able to see your insides. The hulking man takes a seat in the chair next to your bed sighing as he leans back rubbing his face.

“Tell me what happened kid.”

You relay the events of your day to him. How you and Toby had gone out of town for slushies, gotten caught in so much traffic that you felt it was a punishment from God himself. The funny feeling you had after dropping Toby off, the one that said just to go straight home. And how you had a feeling someone had just been in your home. You left nothing out about the altercation with ski mask. That wasn't saying much because you only remember the ski mask and how you tried to claw their face off. When Jo pressed you for a physical description you weren't any help. Having been too caught up in survival mode you only registered the stupid frowny face on the ski mask as being a key detail...but any fool could laser transfer a decal. And the same went for that painted mask, anyone could grab an art store face mask and block paint some black over the features.

Vaguely you recall them wearing a jacket. Had it been red, yeah like a burnt burgundy maybe? It wasn't a lot to go on and seemed to frustrate Jo even more, if the pinching of his nose was anything to go by.

“You are aware of the situation, yea?” his accent has dropped, he's speaking in a more neutral tone and inflection. This might be the most rattling moment of the week-and it's only Tuesday.

He isn't looking at you so you give a quiet 'yes sir' in response.

“Kid your car got broken into on my lot. Your home gets invaded and you get bashed around/ All this a few months after my other front end girlie disappears in the middle of the night.”

A lump forms in your throat at the mention of Bambi. You can see the pattern he's stringing together, honestly you saw it long before today. You'd just been sloppy and took too much time to gather evidence of your stalkers' existence.  Bambi's disappearance wasn't voluntary and it looks like you may be next.

“Called Lydia already and we're upping the security at the cottage. Until I'm satisfied with the level of security you will be staying with us.”

“I co-cou” the lump was hard to speak around, “I can't impose like that, it's fine I'll-”

“You'll just what sleep in your car become an easier target? Go gallivanting to towns miles away where no one knows you.” his harsh words cause you to sputter, “For Christ's sake YN we don't know who we're dealing with right now!”

You don't make eye contact with Jo. You can't make eye contact he's raised his voice. You're lucky you're laying down or else you'd be rocking back and forth right now.

“Unless you have a clue who's out there and the police catch them, this decision is final. This isn't up for debate YN.” he finishes harshly

Even though he's finished you still can't look at him, your nerves are so shot and all you can do is bite your lip.

“Look I...I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing you weren't out on your own while this gets handled. Josephine looks up to ya like an older sibling, she'd be crushed if you ended up like Bambi. Same goes for Dia. And I don't want that for my girls.” he says softly, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that Jo leaves you in the room after informing you that they'd be back to check you out of the hospital tomorrow. And that you could expect a visit from Sheriff Owens at some point before then.

Even after Jo leaves it feels like someone has your heart in a vice. And every few beats they squeeze it, constricting the flow of freshly oxidized blood to your body. For good measure they try to yank the organ straight from your chest cavity but just end up bruising your rib cage.

Oh God you can't breathe, you're trying but you can't tell if you are or aren't anymore. The beeping of you heart monitor is increasing with each second. It's annoying ringing is too much and you need to rip the cords from you immediately. That just makes the ringing worse as it flat lines not finding any beating or rhythm under your skin.

Soon you're swarmed with a team of nurses trying to settle you down in your panic induced haze. Their grabbing hands and forceful touches burn your skin and light a fire that travels through your veins; and only serves to make you thrash more. Taking a swing at the nurse who holds a needle you continue your struggle against the other bodies holding you down as she stumbles away.

A few nurses rush in from the door to help her, not that you notice.

So many of the sounds are merging together and you can't understand anything. From the shrill beep of the heart monitor, the voices calling out at various pitches, footsteps. Everything forms into one gigantic frantic pitch in your already fried mind.

A growl rips through the room, you can feel the vibration of it all over you. Did that come from you?

In an instant all hands are off of your panting form and just before you can sit up a deep pressure is applied to your torso. Warmth seeps into you as the pressure lowers itself onto your body. Effectively ending your meltdown and lulling you into a dissociative state.

Floating is the only way you can describe it. The sensation of weightlessness and a gentle rocking caused by the adrenaline trying to defuse itself back into the body. Or the foggy haze that clouds your mind as you try to remember what just happened. Trying to rational the series of events and this outcome. But nothing comes to you except more brain fog. A confusing storm of frustration and vulnerability hits you. And you are left powerless to do anything. You can't kick your legs or scream as much as you want to.

The weight on top of you is forcing a calm to wash over you while the emotions inside wish to break free like a whirlwind. Your distress kick starting the whirlwind back up again only to die like a camp fire in a thunderstorm when you can't get any sort of momentum to your tantrum.

You can only loose yourself to the fogginess drifting further away from your psychical body. Completely unaware of the world around you as it washes away into nothingness.

When the floating feeling finally lifts you have to blink to shake off the remaining stupor. You're able to tell there is still a heavy weight on top of you but also something holding down your left hand. You turn away from the wall that you've been staring blankly at for hours, if your sore neck is anything to go by, and see Connor perking up at your movement.

“Hey bud,” you raise a hand to ruffle his ear and he lays his big head back onto your chest. “hey Tobes.” voice cracking as you greet the man you assume is holding your hand in a death grip, not once looking up from Connor.

There's a tight squeeze on your hand and you have to close your eyes and take a minute to collect yourself before turning to face him. The last thing you remember before drifting off was a group of nurses trying to sedate you. Having no clue what went on after that and when Toby came in you're preparing for the worst. Finally facing him you pause when you make eye contact.

“Jesus! What happened to-to-to you!?”

When you'd last seen him you'd dropped Toby off in the same shape you got him. Now he's sporting a heavily swollen black eye, one that looks pretty bade considering his nose bridge is also swelling a bit. It almost looks like it's pulsing. The dark purple bruise and deep red bleeding from under it to spread away from the injury is such a drastic contrast to his weirdly grayish complexion. You aren't sure if the black eye is actually that bad or if it just looks that way due to Toby's lack of melanin.

“Tim and I got into a fight.” his one good eye cuts to the side, “Barkclay had to split us up. Drove me here to get it checked out, it's fine.” He's dismissing it, they probably can't figure out if his eye really is fine right now, since he can't feel pain and that thing looks tightly swollen shut.

“Barclay.” is the only thing you can manage to say. Your brain wasn't prepared for most things right now and it's having trouble processing the gnarly injury mixed with complete nonchalance.

His lips pull back into a smile and not one you've seen from him before. Sure you've pulled a couple genuine mirth filled smiles out of him, or seen his teasing smirks, or bashful shy smiles when you've been out with others. But this smile, if you could even call it that-it was more like he was barring his teeth. Toby looked ready for another fight or like he was a feral predator about to rip out it's prey's jugular. There's a brief flash of a image that pops into your mind's eye, one of Toby's bloodstained face with this exact expression, teeth soaked red with blood and chunks of flesh in between . A chill runs through you at the thought. Had Connor not been laying on top of you, you would have shivered.

The instant you squeeze Toby's hand, the smile wipes off his face and he stares down at your interlocked hands. He returns the gesture before bringing his other hand over. Looking up at you through his eyelashes he flips your hand and when your expression doesn't change and you don't pull away he begins to play with your fingers.

“What was the fight about?”

“I don't have to answer that.” his tone is short and clipped.

You don't press the subject, obviously Toby doesn't want to talk about it. And you're fine with that, anyway if the fight was bad enough for Barclay to need to break it up and he drove Toby here you can assume Tim instigated and is probably getting kicked back out into the RV with no AC. As bad as it sounds you could care less. Toby's your friend not Tim, you only care if Toby's ok and while he may have a very fucked up eye in the future, right now he seems like normal Toby. A bit more irritated and on edge but that's normal after a stressful day. Hell you punched a nurse a few hours ago.

“What happened to you?”

There's a small part of you that wants to sass Toby, that you don't have to answer that. Thankfully the rational side reminds you that fight with a roommate is very different than having been beaten in a home invasion. Once again retelling your story but this time starting after you dropped Toby off. No need in going into as much detail as you went into with Jo or how much you'll need to go into with the sheriff. Toby's hands would grip yours tightly throughout your recounting. It's one of the reasons you didn't go into a ton of detail. Understanding your friend is barely holding on by  a string on his good days you aren't about to load your stress along with his already eventful day.

“You can't stay there alone.” he says after you finish the recap.

“Uh duh? Like Jo's already ordered me under house arrest at his house.”

It's like the tension leaks out of him like air leaving a balloon with the way he deflates after you say that. His grip loosens on you hand and he goes back to idly playing with your fingers.

“Good...that's good.” he nods to himself.

In the silence of this hospital room with his service dog on you instead of attending to his clear anxiety ridden form, you realize Toby's a lot more caring than his exterior lets on. The brunette might not wear his heart on his sleeve but it's easy to see it once you know what you're looking for. In this moment as battered and bruised as he is, even the potential possibility of loosing function in his left eye, he's more concerned with you. Whether it's low self worth or just how he treats friends you'll have to find out later.

“Hey...Tobias, I'm here y'know?” you start to sit up waving off a pecking Connor. Once you're far enough up you retract from Toby's grip, which he does fight you on a little. And you reach out further to his bicep, you can't quite reach his shoulder in this position.

“I'm ok Tobes, I'm here.” for some reason 'Tobias' doesn't sound right for this moment.

Toby doesn't give much of a reaction which is fine since you weren't really expecting one. He places his hand over yours for a moment before bringing it back into his grip and fixates on playing with your fingers once again.

With a smile you go to pet Connor with you free hand, hoping Toby might shake himself out of this funk. After a bit of petting you grow restless with the lack of stimulation and ask Toby to pass you on of the graphic novels Little Jo left for you.

It's easier than you thought reading with one hand would be, especially since you can prop the book on Connor who doesn't seem to mind. Pup is resting across your legs now that both humans in the room are stable enough to function without his intervention.

When you finish the first book Toby speaks up, eye still focused on your hand in his. And you find out that although the series isn't his normal thing he did enjoy the art style and a few of the jokes. He waits for you to finish each book before talking more about them and the arc of the story they laid out. Opening up for the two of you to have a nice discussion on the fantasy game based series. It's honestly so much fun for you, where you lack in background awareness Toby is quick to fill you in and point out little ques the writers and artist dropped. In return you're right there explaining character motives and the subtle looks of a character's eyes.

It's a fun few hours before visiting hours are over. And Toby paused at the door before he left, he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Just as he turned to leave you call out.

“Get home safe.” it's normally his line but you aren't going anywhere tonight.

“I will....get well soon. I'll see ya later.”

There's that awkward smile! You can barely contain the beaming one you sent him before he left. Despite being hospitalized for injuries sustained by a home invasion from your potential stalker...well plural now, you've had a pretty great day.

Fuck that sounds so bad. Should you feel guilty about forgetting your messed up circumstances? No, no everything is getting sorted out. If anything this is going along with your plans for Big Jo to help you out. This was more than enough evidence to prove that you aren't just paranoid. And you're about to have a safe place to hang while this all gets settled.

The fact that you got injured is less than ideal but this is what you get for being sloppy and unfocused.

You have a lot of faith in your boss, you know this will be dealt with. Thinking back to everyone who came to see you today...you just hope everyone can be as confident as you are that this will all end soon.

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #masky x reader #creepypasta fanfic