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#he wouldn't sit around with blood on his clothes he'd wash them off
yawnzzznnn · 6 months
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☆When Your On Your Period☆
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☆Special Thanks Too: Riize
☆Note: no one asked for this but I need comfort for mine rn so like...idk lmfao enjoy sometimes I worry that people don't actually like my content lmfaoo numbers are toxic y'all
☆TW: mentions of blood : cramps : stains on clothes and bed sheets : embarrassment :
☆Taglist: @eumppappasgrippers @mxlly143
10-5-23
Wonbin
Wonbin woke up before you, as a usual part of his mornings when your there he tends to watch you sleep this time however when you rolled over he noticed a small pool of blood on your pants and the bed he picked you up and took you to the bathroom ridding the blood covered pants and putting them in the washer before coming back running a bath for you before waking you up once he got you cozy in the bath he rushed to get new bed sheets and wash the other ones before you could see if you were still in the tub when he came back he'd sit on the floor next to the tub and keep you company
Sohee
A small gasp came from behind you "are you ok Yn?" sohee asked "yeah why wouldn't I be" you giggled trying to understand what this dude was on about "your bleeding on your butt" he said pointing to it your eyes winded before you rushed to the bathroom "Sohee" you stuck your head out the door "gimme one of your pants" you said not waiting for a response before shutting the door after a minute Sohee put two and two together making sure your extra comfy when you come back
Shotaro
Lowkey has mom vibes like idk if I said it before but this dude would look up cookie recipes for you like imagine --"Yn honey are you ok?" He asked from outside the door "I'll go make something for you come sit in the living room"-- if it's that time of month goes above and beyond for your comfort if you eat a lot during this he will scold you and have you walk it off once your finished with your moon cycle
Sungchan
You and Sungchan were taking a daily nap much to your request when he noticed a small thing of red from underneath you apoun further inspection he noticed it was blood quickly waking you up "Yn go to the bathroom and change I have a thing of pads under my sink for you" he said shaking you awake changing the bedding while you were gone once you came back he made sure to cuddle you and for comfort you if you were embarrassed by it
Seunghan
Oh my gosh he's so boyfriend anyway you and seunghan decided to have a sleep over it was a rare time where the two of you had an off week together and mother nature ruined it for you "well anyway-" you tried to finish your sentence when suddenly you started crying panic set in Seunghan as he tried to tend to you "I just love you so much" you sobbed snuggling into his neck "you panicked me" he spoke softly rubbing your back suddenly you roughly pushed him away "I'm hungry" you said before storming off starring at the wall in confusion he realized it must be that time he rushed off the couch to quickly check if you have any pads or tampons
Eunseok
You and Eunseok were cuddling on the couch watching movies and eating together when you suddenly jumped up and ran to the toilet "did the fast food effect her that much-" he whispered to himself before setting his food on the coffee table making his way to the bathroom door "you ok?" He asked "are the stores still open" you groaned in pain "yeah they are why-" he asked in confusion and worry "ok I need you to pick me up some pads if you can" you said hunching over in pain "oh yeah for sure" he spoke before rushing out the door
Anton
"Um....Yn" Anton softly spoke from behind you quickly taking his jacket off before wrapping it around your waist "here I'll walk you to the bathroom I brought extra pants for you just in case something like this happened" he whispered in your ear making sure only you heard "your a life saver Anton" you spoke taking the new pants from him
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ewitsren · 2 years
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Hi sweetie! How are you doing? Hopefully great! So I wanted to request ,when their s/o comes home assulted' but with Haitani brothers (separated) and sanzu? Feel free to ignore my request, have a nice day:)
hey love! i haven't been writing for a while but i hope you'll enjoy this <3
their s/o comes home assaulted ft sanzu, haitani brothers
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pairings: haruchiyo sanzu x reader, haitani ran x reader, haitani rindou x reader
tw/cws ⚠️: physical assault, mention of murder, beating up, mention of sexual assault
barrista's note ☕: i love sanzu
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#SANZU
he'd been waiting for you to come home for hours, he'd called you countless times and you wouldn't answer. well, sanzu was wandering around on the border of a serious breakdown which could've had negative effects for a lot of people
so when you walked into the room with your clothes ripped off and a suprising amount of blood dripping down from different parts of body, sanzu had to take a moment to process
he looked at you
and he looked at you again because he couldn't believe the sight of you covered in bruises, crying silently in front of him
he even thought this state of you was just a hallucination popped out from one of his worst nightmares and he believed it for a second until he realized he hadn't taken any pills throughout the day
this was real
he approached slowly, scared to hurt you even more unintentionally
"w-who did this? why didn't you call me for help? where the fuck have you even been?"
at first he started off stammering and a second later he was yelling, you could feel the pure anger in his cracking voice
"I DON'T KNOW SANZU! they broke my phone, i couldn't call you!"
the thought of someone hitting your small, fragile body when he was so delicate and careful with it, the image of you laying on the ground in an alley waiting for him to save you had driven sanzu so crazy that he didn't realize you started crying louder when he yelled at you
"i'm sorry angel, i'm sorry. let's clean you up and we'll take care of this later, okay?"
he sits you down and clean your wounds, extremely careful not to hurt you more.
"i know it burns, look at my babygirl not shedding a single tear. you're so strong."
later he runs you a warm bath and listens to you talk about what happened while washing your hair and body, clenching his jaw at every purple bruise he sees on your skin as he thinks about how he is going to enjoy killing the fuckers who'd hurt you
sanzu dresses you up in his clothes hoping it'll make you feel safer
cuddles you to sleep while caressing your hair and doesn't leave your side the whole night
"i'm so sorry i couldn't protect you, y/n. this 's never going to happen again."
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#HAITANI RAN
ran was about to call his men to get them looking for you when you stepped into the room wet from the rain, bleeding and bruised
he was worried about you, you should've been home hours ago like you always did and ran had a bad feeling in his gut
unlucky for the both of you, his gut was right
he was about to start yelling and asking who, why, when, where did this to you but he forced himself to calm down for your sake. "let's get you patched up sweetheart."
ran filled the tub with hot water, gets you out of your soaking clothes and started tending to your wounds
"who did this to you?"
his voice came out calm but you knew he was burning up inside with anger
"i d-don't know ran, one of them t-tried to s-strip me..."
ran pats your head as you try to tell him what happened between loud sobbings. he felt his cold anger spreading all around his head, how dare did those fuckers try to undress and touch you? how dare did they hurt your pretty face and delicate body?
"sssh, it's okay darling. this is never going to happen again, okay? i'll protect you."
ran puts you to bed after he makes sure you were all patched and cleaned up
he turns the lights off and holds you in his arms until you fall asleep
"they 'r dead now, they'll never hurt ya again."
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#HAITANI RINDOU
just like his big brother, he was about to send his men to look for you
but he drops his phone when you entered the room, covered in blood and bruises.
"y/n what the fuck, are you hurt?"
he rushes to your side, he needs time to process
"where have you been? who the fuck did this to you?"
he sits you down and listens to you while he carefully tends your wounds
his first priority was to make you feel safe, he'd decided to destroy whoever did this to you in the morning
rindou dresses you up in comfortable clothes when he's done patching you up
puts your comfort sitcom on and makes your comfort food
cuddles you to sleep while you watch tv in silence
"no one's gonna hurt you again, darling."
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@ewitsren 's work, do not copy or translate in any other platform
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xysidhequeen · 6 months
Text
New Ficlet
TW: Death, Murder, Blood, Experimentation, Vivisection, Dissociation, Child Abuse
RedredredredsomuchredsomuchBLOOD.
Danny backed away, hands shaking. His foot slipped on the blood mess on the floor. He went down, a keening whimper escaping him as the fall jolted his wounds. His hands went up to grab at his chest, at the gaping wound and flapping skin. He froze, looking at the dripping red liquid coating his hands and arms like gloves. 
His hands shook and he could feel a wail crawling up his throat. He didn't look up, didn't look at his…at Jack and Maddie at their…bodies. He killed them. They're dead. DEADdeaddeadhekilledthem. He didn't look at them. 
Some cold part of his mind whispered to him. The voice sounded like Jazz. And– oh Ancients what would she think? What would Sam and Tucker think? They'd hate him, surely. He couldn't–
Jazz's voice in his head spoke up over his spiraling thoughts. Calm and clinical and ordering him to get up, to wash his hands. To find bandages and fishing line to sew up his wounds before their were three dead bodies in this lab. 
Danny listened to Jazz's voice. She'd always been the smart one. She'd always known what to do. He stood on unsteady legs and limped to the sink in the lab, washing his hands in robotic motions, ignoring the pink water until it ran clear.
He gathered up the materials he needed, sitting on a clean stretch of ground where there was no blood mess. He stitched himself back together, not even feeling the pain of it. This was nothing compared to what his parents Jack and Maddie had done to him over the past week.
He closed up the Y shaped incision on his chest, closed up the deep, surgical cuts along his torso and arms. Covered them in spare ectoplasm lying around the lab, slathered it on like ointment on the chunks of flesh taken from his arms and legs. Then he wrapped them all in bandages. 
He stood again and mechanically gathered what he'd need, Jazz's voice in his head, a calming narrator telling him what step to take next. What to grab. All the ecto-dejectos after he'd taken one and injected it into himself, giving him the energy he'd need and kickstarting his healing. More bandages, all he could grab. Fishing line, needles. 
He climbed back up to his room, grabbing a worn duffle bag to shove it all in. He grabbed his phone, turned it off, and tossed it in. Clothes, the cash Sam had given him 'in case of an emergency', the thumb drive Tucker made that would grab all the data from the Fenton computers and wipe the rest. He grabbed clothes, roughly yanking off the ruined remains of his jumpsuit and tossing a hoodie and jeans on instead. His ectoplasm would replace it, eventually, but for now, he needed clothes. 
He didn't turn back into his human form. It didn't feel safe. It wouldn't survive with the injuries he currently had. No matter how tired he was.
He drifted through the house, Jazz's voice his only grounding anchor as he dipped in and out of rooms. Grabbed a few things from Jazz's room, some of the emergency supplies she had left. A med-kit, cash, his fake papers, and ID. They kept it in her room, just in case his parents found out and it went badly and they combed his room.
They found out. They found out. It went so much worse than he could ever imagine. Now they're dead, and he's a MONSTER.
He dropped into his parent's room, the static in his head nearly drowning out Jazz's voice. She screamed louder, though. She always had. He took a hesitant step. It felt like moving through molasses. Then another and another, forcing himself into the room of his parents, his victims, the Fentons. He moved as quickly as he could, barely touching anything except to grab his legal papers and the money his dad squirreled away because he didn't trust banks and thought they were controlled by ghosts.
"No one can be that soulless and not be a ghost, Danno!"
He left the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it cracked. He stopped in the kitchen next, grabbing whatever wasn't currently animated and attempting to stage a coup. It wasn't much. He tossed it into the bulging duffle, struggling to zip it closed. 
He paused at the stairs to the lab, the darkness yawning like a monster's maw. He wanted to run he wanted to never see it again. 
But Jazz's voice was louder than his fear, so he stepped back into the lab, his prison, his cage. Each step rang too loudly in the silent house. Finally, he was back, and he kept his eyes carefully averted from the… mess. From the stains on the ground and the lumps beside a metal table covered in green ectoplasm. 
He hurried to the computer, shoving the thumb drive in. Immediately, a screen popped up, denoting how long it would take to download. Danny kept his eyes locked on it, never blinking or moving as the bar slowly went up. 
When it reached a hundred, Danny ripped the thumb drive out and shoved it in the duffle, deep down into it. He took a deep breath and turned his head quickly to miss the…mess. He zeroed in on the portal and forced himself to walk to it, past it. He ripped a panel off, exposing a mess of wiring. 
Danny moved on autopilot, ripping wires and twisting them together. Turning h- Jack and Maddie's greatest invention into a ticking time bomb. 
He couldn't afford for anyone else to get into the Ghost Zone or for anyone to get out. He needed to hide the bodies evidence. He needed for all of the Fenton inventions to be gone. This would do it. It wouldn't be a massive explosion, but it would be enough to take out the house. 
Everyone would think he was dead.
Sam, Tucker and Jazz would think he was dead.
That would be for the best.
Better he die a hero to them than live as a monster.
Danny finished his work and stepped back, taking a deep breath he finally turned his head to look at Jack and Maddie. At their bodies. At his victims. He killed them. Him. He was the monster. 
The monster they made him.
Invisibility and intangibility washed over him in a cooling wave. He stumbled but held his legs, his core crying from the strain. He pushed past it. He forced himself up, up, up, and out of Fenton Works. 
He floated there, watched with a detatched type of curiosity as he mentally counted down the seconds until there was a rumble. Then the building just…crumpled in on itself. Imploding. 
Jazz was silent in his mind.
Danny didn't wait around for the emergency services to arrive. He turned his head and flew off. He wasn't sure where, exactly, until a memory tickled his brain. A memory of a little bird, a robin he remembered Sam saying. A ghost robin that used to warn him when new ghosts were coming or his parents were getting close. A robin who used to try to distract his rogues or tug Danny out of (or occasionally into danger if someone needed help) danger. 
A little robin that Danny used to just unload his woes and troubles onto because it felt like the bird could understand him. He always stayed to listen, at least. 
A little bird who had only ever spoken once, the last time Danny ever saw him.
"If you ever need to run, come to Gotham. It'll keep you safe."
Well. He had nowhere else to go. He might as well go to Gotham. No one would find one singular eighteen year old kid there. 
Danny turned his phone on, ignoring the hundreds of missed calls and texts, just long enough to see where Gotham was. Then he turned it off and started slowly flying in that direction, desperately hoping he got to Gotham before he passed out.
—-----------
Danny kept flying doggedly on, only pausing when he started leaking through his bandages and even then only stopping long enough to redo them in whatever bathroom he came across. He burned the old bandages once he was done, not willing to leave behind traces of his ectoplasm for someone to track him with. 
He ate while flying, shoving whatever he grabbed out of the bag into his mouth. The ecto-dejectos kept him going when his vision started to go dark at the edges. He couldn't pass out here. Not where it wasn't safe. He couldn't risk it. 
Danny had no idea when he'd feel safe again. Had no idea if Gotham would provide that safety, but it was the only hope he had. He had nowhere else to go. He couldn't go to the Zone, the portal was destroyed, and he couldn't risk trying to sneak past Vlad. He was too weak to open his own right now. Besides, if he came into the Zone this injured, then every ghost in a hundred mile radius would be on his ass, trying to finally End him and take the crown. 
No, the living realm wasn't safe, but it was safer than the Zone right now.
He just had to get to Gotham, find a safe place to lay low for a few weeks until he healed. Then he could vanish into the Zone. 
Danny kept flying, forcing his invisibility to stay up even when his core felt like it would shatter. He kept pushing and pushing. He stole a phone at one point. He couldn't risk turning his on again and having Tucker trace the signal.
He didn't spend time wondering why he'd even grabbed the phone. Why he kept it on him. The buried hope it would uncover would be the end of him.
He used it to keep him on track, getting closer and closer to Gotham until he could finally see the smog that coated the city like a dirty cloak. Could see the twinkling skyscrapers and Gothic architecture clawing at the sky. 
Danny was half delirious at that point, running on fumes and ecto-dejecto. He'd run out of food days ago, and his stomach had stopped growling, instead cramping in a ball of pained agony that just joined the rest of the pain his battered body felt. 
He flew over the city, past skyscrapers and ancient buildings. He ignored the thoughts of Sam that accompanied every gothic building and gargoyle. He flew deeper into the city, ignoring the crowds below. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, a sign, maybe?
A feeling tickled at his senses, at his core. It felt familiar but faint. Hidden almost under something…wrong and rancid. But it was familiar. It felt safe in a way Danny hadn't felt in two weeks.
It had been longer than that, but Danny didn't want to think about that.
Danny followed the feeling, half asleep and so delirious he could swear the buildings were warping around him as he flew haphazardly closer. The feeling grew stronger. It almost felt like a ghost. As he crossed some unseen threshold, the feeling strengthened. It was like entering an abandoned haunt, the boundary lined weak and feeble. 
If there had been a ghost here, they were long gone. Probably Ended, it was one of the only ways he'd ever seen a ghost relinquish a haunt.
Danny paid it little mind. The ghost might be gone, but the sense of them remained. It felt so safe to him, even if the energy pulsate Rage/Pain/Hate/Grief/Vengeance like a heartbeat. He followed the feeling deeper into the haunt towards the center. Towards what would've been the ghost's lair. 
He forced his body to go intangible when he found the building, an apartment building that was slightly less derelict than the ones around it. Not that Danny was particularly picky at the moment. This spot was as good as any, and if it had been a ghost's lair, it was unlikely there were any living people in it. They tended to naturally avoid ghost lairs, some deep instinct buried in their psyche screaming at them to stay away. 
Danny dropped through the roof and through apartments until he reached the one that was positively drenched in the faded ghost's energy. There was a couch right there. And Danny didn't even have the energy to look around further.
He was tired. He was in so much pain. He just wanted to sleep.
Danny dropped his invisibility and intangibility, collapsing on the couch, his duffle bag dropped to the floor beside him. The moment his eyes closed, he was out.
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What. You thought I only wrote fluff? Nah.
Anyways, this is an idea that's been rattling around in my head I wanted to get out. It's rough, unedited and who knows if I'll continue it. But it exists now.
It has no name but I saved it as 'The Monster They Made' but the name is subject to change.
I'm pretty sure I got all the trigger warnings. Let me know if I missed any
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strlingsav · 5 months
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Drive: Seven
– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader
Explicit content under the cut. Read at your own risk.
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Johnny called you out of the blue, wanting to meet up following your leave. Up to that point, you weren't sure how Johnny felt about you- you had an inkling he'd known all along about your secret affair with Simon, though not to what extent. The phone call didn't allow for much insight, either, a quick conversation that did nothing to settle your nerves. Surely, he'd be curious; if not pissed off.
You were a bit hesitant to blindly agree to meeting him, and when he mentioned Kyle, your blood ran cold wondering if Simon or John were sitting with them.
You finally agreed, after reassurance that neither men were there. He purposely emphasized that Simon was on base for the evening and had declined his invite. The thought made you cringe- you worried you'd isolated him from his friends, his teammates, and it was your fault he was hiding away and not out drinking.
You managed to peel yourself from the confines of your bed; pulling on causal clothes, running your fingers through your hair and washing your face. Your mental health had certainly suffered the last few months; your motivation to take care of yourself had been hindered by self-deprecating thoughts.
You managed to apply a bit of makeup and pull your hair into a suitable condition. Though it wasn't your usual standard, Johnny and Kyle wouldn't notice a difference- and you didn't care.
The two men were at opposite sides of the table when you arrived, Johnny's arm resting on the seat while he nodded along to something Kyle was saying. They greeted you, quick hugs and hellos offered before you sat down beside Kyle.
"You been alright?" Johnny asked, his hand wrapped around his beer.
You could tell he practically spat the question out, like it was trapped in his throat, waiting to burst out. His face showed no expression- not empathy or anger, and you knew you needed to proceed with a cautious response.
The noise of the bar drowned out any worries you had of awkward silences or pauses while you tried to come up with a story better than the truth.
"Yeah," You nodded, cracking a small smile. "Aside from being discharged and publicly humiliated."
"Donnae think too hard on it. Nobody blames you- shoulda been Ghost gettin' tossed; Price kisses his fuckin' arse."
"It's not his fault," You shook your head. "I also should've known better."
"He was your superior officer," Kyle added. "It was his responsibility." You winced at the word 'was'- another reminder of the loss you'd suffered.
"But we both wanted this- it," You corrected yourself. It was silent for a few moments, before you spoke up again. "Let's just move on," You smiled awkwardly.
"Aye," Johnny nodded. "You heard from him?"
"Thought we were moving on?" You raised a brow.
"Too good not to share details," Johnny grinned.
"I did, and then I ended it- I guess."
"Ended it?" Johnny asked. "Ghost's been chattin' my fuckin' ear off about you. You sure that's what you want?"
"You're not my therapist, Johnny," You rolled your eyes, a grin on your lips.
"No- but the lad's desperate for you, tell you that much."
"It's not feasible," You shrugged. "Not when we don't work together. I can't put that on him."
"Anythin's possible," Kyle entered. "Even if it's just to shut him up," He laughed, watching Johnny.
"I can't," You interjected. "I got ahead of myself with the feelings part- I know that. I just think I felt more for him than I thought I did."
"No shame in it," Johnny shook his head. "If it makes you feel any better, I'd never seen that big bastard happier. Y'should tell him."
You tilted your head, sighing softly. "It doesn't- and I won't, but thanks." You grinned.
"So what now?" Kyle asked, leaning in.
"Nothing. Find a job, settle down. Like a normal person."
"We'll miss havin' you around, that's for sure," Johnny nodded.
"Thanks, Johnny."
"Normal people tell other people how they're feeling," Kyle eyed you down, an eyebrow raised while he subtly scolded you. "Instead of avoiding it."
"I'm not normal just yet, Kyle. Can't you just say you'll miss me?"
"I'll miss you," He teased.
You sighed at his response. Their advice was well-intended, but a voice in your head still warned against being honest with Simon. You worried it would create expectations, standards that he couldn't uphold from across the world.
If he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the humiliation of being discharged would only be accompanied by rejection from the very reason you were let go to begin with. It made your stomach churn to imagine telling Simon- the lingering stare he'd give, the apologies and polite goodbyes. It would sting far worse than just leaving it as it was.
You must've been staring off into the distance, hardly touching your drink as Johnny and Kyle dragged you back onto shore. They offered to play a round of pool with you- take your mind off everything, but you wanted to sit and stew.
You took up a seat at the bar while they played, fingers playing with the plastic toothpick you snagged. You felt like shit. Not just because you'd lost your job, but because you'd lost Simon. You were sure he'd take you back in a heartbeat, but it didn't mean anything. Your feelings were as pointless as they'd always been. You felt absolutely ridiculous for knowing that from the very beginning, but proceeding anyway.
You wanted to be mean. You wanted to keep being unavailable and distant, until he lost interest and left you alone. It was hard- hard not to call him, hear his voice. So you promised yourself to be mean, because if you were to see him, you'd crumble, fall into the abyss where he'd been waiting for you.
Your attention was grabbed by a man sliding in next to you, getting a bit too close for comfort and leaning into your personal space. You looked up to meet his gaze, finding an unfamiliar face beside you.
Ordinarily, you'd have been flattered by his bold actions, but your mind only had enough space for one man at the moment- Simon.
"You drinking alone?" He asked, leaning over the bar.
Your expression remained flat as you nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"Want another one?" He nodded toward the drink in your hand.
You lifted your head again, uninterested in anything but the woodgrain of the bar.
"I'm okay," You smiled politely.
"C'mon," He grinned. "I'm a stranger offering to lend an ear- nothing more."
Your patience had already begun to wear thin, especially as he kept that same grin across his face. Before you could say another word, someone else did for you.
"Fuck off, yeah mate?" Simon's voice interjected from behind you, causing your eyes to widen.
"That's- I'm sorry," You said, offering an apology to the man.
Your jaw clenched as you spun to face Simon, watching the stranger you were politely chatting with turn away with widened eyes. Your eyes met Simon's, your brows furrowing with frustration.
"That was rude," You said. "What are you doing here?"
"Weren't gonna tell me you were here?" Simon asked, his eyes surveilling the room before he leaned closer and looked at you.
"Didn't think I had to report to you anymore," You said back, watching him grimace.
"Quit the fuckin' attitude," He growled. "Didn't think I'd find out you were meetin' with Johnny and Kyle?"
"I was sure you would," You shrugged. "Just didn't think I needed permission to be here."
He leaned down and ordered a strict, 'come with me' while he herded you out the front door. His hand gripped your arm, gently guiding you forward so he could talk with you in peace and quiet.
It was damp outside, a bit of a chill while progressing into Spring. Your breath in the air appeared before you, and Simon's hand on your arm offered a comforting warmth.
He lead you to his truck, opening the door as he gestured for you to get in.
"Simon-"
"Get in the fuckin' truck."
You sighed, stepping in to sit in the warmth of his vehicle, while he rounded the front of his truck to get in the driver's seat. He put it in drive, starting toward your apartment without allowing you to get a word in.
"What's goin' on?" He asked, hand clinging to the wheel as you leaned back against the seat. "Y'can't keep avoidin' me. You just fuck me and leave?"
Your eyes dodged his, staring at the street ahead of you. You knew you'd break down- one drink in, and it had loosened you up just enough to get emotional and honest.
He huffed; drawing your name out in that low, raspy voice that tugged on your heartstrings and sent chills up your back. Your gaze met his pleading eyes, lifting your head to find the brown irises that made your knees weak.
"You didn't have to come," You said finally. "Did Johnny call you?"
"Doesn't matter who called me," Simon tilted his head. "Answer me," He said, briefly peering over at you.
"I don't know, Simon," You narrowed your eyes.
"Don't know why you're avoidin' me?"
"I don't know about anything," You laughed, exasperated and tired.
"Talk to me, sweetheart," He said, voice just above a whisper, soft and gentle- like he usually was with you.
"Don't do that," You shook your head, your eyes closing so you wouldn't have to see the look that could break you in seconds. "Don't be sweet and nice to me."
He chuckled, "Why's that?"
"I've been an asshole," You sighed, tears welling in your eyes.
"Just tell me what's goin' on, and we can fix it."
"There's no we, no us."
He quickly pulled over, finding a spot on a quiet gravel road that had trees hanging over it, and long grass in the ditch. His head turned as he gave all his attention to you.
"I beg to fuckin' differ. Don't care if you ain't answerin' my calls, you're mine, remember that?" His hand came to rest on your thigh.
"I can't-," You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as stray tears fell. "I can't, Simon. We can't do this."
"Why's that?"
You exhaled harshly, sniffling as a lump grew in your throat. You swallowed, finding his eyes in the darkness.
"Because I love you," You whispered. "And I can't do that while you're miles away. And I can't ask you stay." Your voice began to quiver, which was more irritating than bearing your feelings to him.
He was silent for a few moments, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. His chest was tight, your admission of your feelings made him feel warm, content.
"Y'don't have to ask," He shook his head. "'It'll always be you. I'll always love you," He said quietly. "Y'know that, right?"
Your breath caught in your chest, desperately holding onto your last shred of self-control, eyeing down his lips. Your eyes dried themselves with the help of his words, a yearning forming in your chest that begged to be satiated by him.
"I don't know-" You started, shaking your head.
"It's you," He repeated, craning his neck to meet your eye line. "It's you, love."
His voice was low, quiet and full of sincerity. It churned your stomach.
"I just want you to be sure," You nodded. "And I want you to be here. And I don't know if you can be either of those things- and I understand." Your voice wavered again, the lump in your throat returning.
"Fuckin' 'ell," He nearly grinned, letting out a short chuckle of disbelief. "I have to get you a ring to sort you out? 'M sure. Always was- am."
"Don't joke about shit like that," You sighed, looking away, attempting to fight off the vulnerability of your position, and keep him at an arm's length.
"Jokin'? It ain't far off, love. Just waitin' for the right time." His hand briefly touched your cheek.
"It doesn't change the distance," You reasoned, watching him shake his head.
"It's finished," He answered. "My work with 141- overseas- it's done. 'M here for good, sweetheart."
"Johnny didn't mention that?" You said, tilting your head.
"'Course he didn't. I asked him to let me tell you myself."
You gasped, "I knew he called you!"
He shrugged. "Johnny ain't what I was here to talk about."
"You're here? For good?" Your brows raised themselves as you interrogated him.
"Long as you'll have me."
A rush of relief, excitement flooded through you. All the walls you'd broken down to find the gooey centre of emotion within him- it was more than worth it. The fruition of a crush you'd had since the first time you saw him; it made your heart pound.
He was real, genuine, more than just the stoic lieutenant you pinned him as. And he loved you- wholly and without conditions, obviously and without shame- even when it threatened his career. It was the perfect ending to the most fucked-up fairytale you'd ever seen.
You pursed your lips, slotting yourself closer to his seat. "As long as you want to stay," You said- resolute.
"Have t'kill me to keep me away," He teased.
Your stomach flipped, a laugh exploding from you before he cut you off with a kiss, soft and apprehensive. You shivered against him, warm lips against yours awakening the nerves in your body.
Once your mind had caught up with your body, your hands grabbed at his shoulders. It made you sigh into his mouth, savouring the feeling you'd missed. You missed him, undoubtedly, and the thought of one day being more than what you were in '141' made your heart jump.
Your smile broke through the kiss, and his greedy hands were grabbing and pulling at your waist in an attempt to keep you close. You giggled while his hands worked their way down to your ass, squeezing harshly, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel his arousal through his jeans- his hard cock pressed against you.
"'Member the first time I had you like this," He whispered against your neck, his fingers working at your pants' button. "Naughty fuckin' girl you were. Still are," You could hear the grin on his face.
His hand slipped beneath your pants, running his fingers gently over your pussy. He let out a short exhale.
"Still get so fuckin' wet for me, don't you, sweetheart?"
His rhetorical question made goosebumps appear over your skin. You pulled yourself closer to his chest, ground your pussy over his hand. Your deep breaths fanned over his chest, your fingers digging into the tight T-shirt covering his skin. You wanted more- wanted to feel him again.
Your hands worked quickly to slide his shirt off, your palms running down the thick muscle of his chest, fingers tracing the divots and protrusions of his abdomen. He let out a quiet grunt, his cock twitching in his jeans at the feel of your soft hands on his body.
He grabbed your wrist, dragging your hand down to his groin, allowing you to grab a handful of his crotch- he moaned quietly when your gentle hand caressed his cock, short huffs from his nose as his fingers worked their way inside you.
"Take 'em off," He ordered, fiddling with your waistband with his other hand.
He helped you to sit forward while you slid your pants down your hips, removing your feet from the confines of your jeans before settling back on his lap.
His calloused hands slid up and down your thighs, rounding your full hips. His fingers found the scar, the patched-up hole in your leg; you shivered as he looked down at it.
"First time I've felt it," He said, out of the blue. "Hurt at all?"
You shook your head, "No." Your cheeks flushed, overwhelmed by everything that had come together in the last few moments but especially as he dusted his fingers across your scar.
He squeezed your flesh reassuringly, leaning up to press a soft kiss against your lips. Your hands, in turn, moved quickly to unzip his pants, gently taking his cock in your hand as you knelt up on the seat.
He helped to guide his cock to the warmth of your pussy, the soft, wet flesh beckoning him closer until he sunk in, and you began to relax, sliding down his cock. Your pussy swallowed him whole, his pulsating cock twitching within your welcoming walls- his head fell back, and your hands landed on his shoulders.
"Shit, baby," You exhaled, your hips stationary while you acclimated yourself to his size again.
"Just as fuckin' heavenly," He whispered, strong hands kneading the flesh of your ass and hips. "Though now s'all mine," He grinned, smug and assured.
Your hips rolled forward, the first thrust easing any discomfort, and making you flinch when your clit rubbed against the short curls at the base of his cock. You exhaled again, a quiet shudder as he filled you entirely, so deliciously hot and hard inside you.
Your hands met behind his head, pulling yourself closer as you found your stride, taking his cock deeper inside you while grinding your clit against him.
"That's right, love," He said approvingly, his hands gripping your hips, helping you forward. "Ride it- y'know how I like it, don't you?" He cooed, greedy fingers squeezing your waist and ass in his hands.
"Keep talking," You whispered against his cheek. "I missed your voice," You said.
"That right?" He practically hummed, though a bit choked as you rode his cock. "Think you missed more than that- greedy fuckin' girl."
His hand left a slap against your ass, making you hiss softly.
"Simon-" You warned. "No teasing, been too long," You groaned.
"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dripping with mockery.
You nodded, your breaths heavier as you chased your orgasm, his voice leaking into your abdomen and pushing you forward with every single word. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, your breasts flush with his chest.
"Make me cum," You sighed.
He put two fingers in his mouth, before reaching your clit and stroking softly in a circular motion. Your back arched into his touch, practically bouncing yourself up and down his cock.
"Yes- yesyesyes," You gasped.
He let out a short, strangled grunt at feeling your pussy flutter around his cock.
"Fuckin' Christ, love," He spat, his fingers digging into your waist as he helped you ride him.
Your breath caught in your chest, warmth flooding your abdomen as you clenched your jaw, your pussy contracting around him. Your vision blurred for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut while your climax rushed over you within a matter of moments.
Stars obstructed your view of him while you blinked softly, and he wrapped a gentle hand around your throat. You quickly realized he'd released inside you already- overly sensitive and cringing each time you moved forward.
"Sorry," You gasped, relaxing into his chest, his cock still erect inside you.
"S'alright, sweetheart." He pulled your forward to kiss you, soft lips against yours.
He helped you over to the passenger seat, offering his T-shirt to help clean yourself up. Once settled back in your jeans, and sliding the seatbelt over you, you turned to him with a soft smile.
"Let's go home."
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Luffy x ftm reader
Warnings: 1(?) mention of period
Word count: 1104
Request are open!
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"Heyy heyyyyy (name) wake uppp" Luffy said while shaking you to death awake. You grumbled something along the lines of him letting you sleep longer until he said "Yea well I think you should wake up there's blood on your sheets, do you think someone broke in or something? Wouldn't that be hard since we're in the ocean?"
You usually just tuned the idiot your boyfriend out but as soon as you heard blood on your sheets, you basically felt the wetness of blood between your legs your period had started. You deflated at this fact a monthly occurrence that reminded you, you where in fact born in the wrong body. You got up got some clothes a wash cloth and a towel and mumbled something to Luffy about going to get in the shower.
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He was confused to say the least if someone had broken in why'd you seem so upset about and why didn’t you say anything, where you stabbed in the groin or something is that why there was blood on the sheets?? He decided to ask Robin she's really smart so he'll ask her!!
Despite the fact you've been dating for a whole entire year it just never came up, usually you just took pain killers and slept all day but being waken up by your boyfriend just made it worse so you where a bit gloomy.
When Robin seen Luffy enter her gaze from where she was reading in the aquarium, it looked like he was looking around for someone or something so she asked him "Looking for something captain."she said amused. He simply smiled at her from where she was sitting sat down next to her and said "I was looking for you actually I wanted to ask you something." She returned the smile and asked what he wanted to know."I wanted to ask if you knew what was up with (name) he seemed down when I said there was blood on his sheets, and he just went to get in the shower do you think someone broke in and stabbed him in his groin or something." Robin already used to the idiot her captain was just said "I'm not sure maybe you should ask him if you're really that worried about him Luffy."
So Luffy said that was a good idea said thank you and ran off to go look for you. You who had just gotten out the shower and went to go see chopper for some pain killers. You and chopper who definitely didn't expect Luffy to just bust in his office, being used to him it didn't faze the two of you. You and chopper kinda just stared at him for a second to see if he would say anything after a couple of seconds of silence, chopper just went back to explaining how the pain killers could make you sleepy and to not take more than two a day or at a time. He was about to hand them to you until Luffy said "Why do you need pain killers did you really get stabbed in your groin? Did someone actually break in why didn't you say anything!?"
You stared at him for a good five seconds... ten seconds.... thirty seconds.... "What" you said honestly confused. So he repeated the dumb questions and you just answered with a 'don't worry about it.' This would be a mistake because the stubborn captain wouldn't take that for an answer I mean he just wanted to make sure his boyfriend didn't get stabbed cus someone broke in! So after being pestered for about two hours you started to feel sleepy from his constant pestering, and from the pain killers chopper had given you successfully subsiding the pain.
You turned around looked him dead in the eyes and asked him if he really wanted to know. He of course jumped at this opportunity to know what was wrong with his boyfriend, he'd been messing with about for two hours about it! So you told him simply "My period started that's why I needed pain killers and that's why I was gloomy." "Ohhh but I thought only girls got that or whatever." He said tilting his head confused. So you then explained to him that you where trans and then you explained what that was to him. After all that the only thing he said was "Ohhh" he laughed "That's pretty cool so you got girl parts but you're a boy." He smiled at you while saying that, it made your heart flutter he was just being so cute! You simply just told him yes and went back to your room to take a nap.
But when you got to your room despite Luffy's constant pestering for two whole hours, he was still your boyfriend and you did miss him and kinda felt needy for him. So you got up went to seek him out it was around lunch time so you went to the kitchen he surprisingly wasn't there. So you looked all over the ship despite missing him you just gave up and went back to your room to find.... he was right there waiting for you with food."Hey I was waiting on you and I talked to nami since she has girl parts, too and she said you probably would need food and a bunch of other stuff but I really wasn't paying attention after she said food but I got you some (name)!"
You smiled at this despite him having tuned out the rest of what nami said he still brought you food and waited for you in your room. "Luffy can we cuddle" you asked with a mumble and shyly slightly nervous but he just smiled up at you from his spot on the floor, and opened his arms inviting you in you walked over to him bending down to accept his invitation. He then stood up from the floor startling you causing you to hold on to him tighter and he layed you both down on the bed him on his back you on top of him. He pulled the blankets over both of you and rubbed your back, you truly didn't realize how tired you where from your period starting, being pestered by your boyfriend about why you where down and then explain to him why you where, walking around the whole ship just to find him in your room today was a eventful day even if it was only lunchtime.
You pushed into him more wanting to feel closer to him as you both dozed off into a nap that felt like pure ecstasy.
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k-marzolf · 1 year
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{Monsters in the Dark #1}
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Evil is a point of view...God kills, and so shall we; indiscriminately...for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves. - Lestat, Interview with the Vampire.
Canon typical violence, blood, roommate au, soft dark!Billy, fem!reader.
521 words.
A/N: I found all the chapters after scouring a hell of a lot of documents. I think I got them all.
Playlist.
Moodboard.
+++
@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11
Blood splattered all over his shoes, and clothes, as he stabbed the man; five, ten, fifteen times. It was a strange sickening high he got with each strike. He watched the body drop with a sickening thud that satisfied his treacherous heart. He slowed his breathing down, his heart raced from the adrenaline. When he got into his car, he wiped his face, and his hands, before he drove home.
To you.
x
He threw his clothes in the wash, he didn’t want you to see the blood and get scared, before he got in the shower. He watched the blood wash down the drain with interest, the high from his kill made him feel keyed up. He’d been to a therapist once, he didn’t check all the boxes of a psychopath. Doctors were useless.
He knew he needed to calm down before he approached you. It was at times when he was keyed up, he was rougher around the edges, and he didn't want to scare his sweet roommate away. He turned the water off eventually, his skin red from the hot water, stepped out, and dried off.
He felt excitement in his stomach that came from knowing that you were only steps away.
After he wrapped the towel around his waist, he left the bathroom.
x
You were laying in his bed, wrapped in his silk sheets as usual. You always found your way to his bed due to nightmares. If only you knew who you laid with each night. He leaned over you and kissed your cheek, which made you sigh sweetly. Your eyes fluttered open, and it was a strange juxtaposition of the cold-blooded killer and the sweet girl that sought refuge in him.
"Hey, gorgeous." He hummed, nudging your nose with his, eyes tender, hiding the vicious killer.
His hands stained with blood touched your hip, knowing you craved human contact. He wondered what you'd been through, that made you crave it so much. But he was a beast lurking beneath the surface. There was no amount of blood he wouldn't spill for you. He'd dirty his hands to keep you safe. To hunt anyone who haunted your nightmares. He'd kill any fucker stupid enough to hurt you. And he'd get a thrill from it.
You smiled softly, "Welcome home, Billy." You wiggled closer to him.
Billy smiled, and nuzzled you, his wet hair tickling your cheek. He looked up at you through his lashes, his cheeks pink. His eyes were shining with something dark, as he watched you. It made you shiver. But you couldn’t help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
"Did you have another nightmare, sweet pea?" He asked, stroking your hair, sitting on the side of the bed next to you.
You hummed, pushing your head into his lap. "Yeah, I dreamed that Billy was gone, and I was all alone in the dark." You looked up sweetly, "Can I stay with you forever, Billy?"
He bared his teeth in a wicked smile. "Of course, sweet girl.”
You were ruined and he hadn't even touched you yet.
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traintwinkwrites · 4 months
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yandere!enmu rant (smut rant?? hcs?? I don't know-)
table of contents; cannibalism, blood, non-con, somnophilia, mentions of n3cr0philia, abusive relationships, enmu (he's his own fucking warning.), my horrible ranting, unhinged shit, and depictions of gore?-
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
fuck. okay. Tumblr has been showing me a looooot of posts with cannibalism and uh I can't help but think of enmu when I read them. he would be the type of person to get off to devouring his lover in the literal sense, ripping their flesh from their bones effortlessly and consuming them like they're just another corpse he happened to stumble upon, yet going agonizingly slow solely for the reason he wants his lover to feel every little ounce of pain he'd be administering to them, finding them beautiful while they're pleading, begging, and crying.. ngh. I feel like he'd be the type of dude to want to fuck someone in their sleep too. just him, sitting awake in the darkness that envelopes his and his lovers shared room, his bright turquoise eyes observing and watching them; like a cat would. his hands trailing down their back and sides, gliding over their hips and thighs all while he gives them beautiful little wet dreams. watching as they toss and turn in their sleep, how easily aroused they are, how vulnerable they are. he just can't help but slide his hands under their clothes, his finger tips easily gliding over their skin, feeling how warm and soft it feels, how plush it feels, he can't help it if he just decides to bite or grope random parts of their body, it's their fault for looking so pretty in their deep slumber, their fault for trusting him enough to sleep next to him.. occasionally he'll give you soft little kisses, or just straight up make out with your unconscious body. listening to all the soft gasps and whines you'd let out in your sleep as he grinds himself against you, or positions your body in a way that he can easily slide his cock between your thighs and fuck them 'till he's exhausted. he never worries about waking you up accidentally, he already knows you won't wake until he decides you can, or unless you find a way to wake yourself. or, if he's feeling bold, he'll just plain out fuck your unconscious, vulnerable body.
one of his hands gripping onto your hair, the other keeping a tight enough grip on your hip to leave a bruise as he keeps your body in place, his sharp fangs sinking into your shoulder so he can feed off of you while he continues to rut into you. all his little moans and whimpers filling the air around them as he relentlessly fucks into you.
or on the nights that he doesn't do this, he just sits awake beside you, caressing your body and giggling to himself about how pretty you look, how you grip onto your pillows and hug them as if they're a person. he doesn't necessarily sleep, since he doesn't need it; but he does occasionally, otherwise he just observes you and watches your reactions to the different dreams he gives you.
but don't get surprised if you wake up without a few fingers.. or an arm, perhaps a random chunk of flesh missing from your hips or thighs, maybe your torso or chest.. he gets hungry, he can't help himself when he has such a delectable little snack Infront of him, subjected to anything he desires. of course he'll bandage you up after, wash up any blood you got on yourself as he was enjoying his small little meal, wrapping your wounds in tight bandages, or even offering you a bit of his flesh so you can remain human yet still regenerate the parts of you that you have missing. he does this as a way to "make up" for eating you without permission, he wouldn't want you to leave him, he can't have that. he has to force you to stay, he can't lose you. you're the only one who'll put up with his problems.. he knows he'll end up devouring you in the end, but for now he wants to keep you.
yet in the end, when he ends up getting sick and tired of your constant complaints, you'll become just another meal to him. slipping in and out of consciousness as he eats you, choking on your own blood and making the prettiest little gurgling sounds as you try to continue to breathe, muttering 'why's' and trying to plead with him as he ignores you, his teeth tearing into your flesh as he gnaws on your body; your blood gushing everywhere, staining his clothes and getting smeared across his pretty, porcelain-like skin as he tears another chunk from you, his nails aren't especially long but that doesn't stop him from digging into your skin and peeling it back just to watch the blood pool up and rush to the surface, spilling out like water in a punctured bottle, just waiting to ooze out and cause a mess.
despite being so proper and "elegant" in his normal daily life, he's absolutely rabid when he's eating. growling, scratching, pinning you down, tearing up your clothes, ect.
yet, despite this, he makes sure to stay way from your vital parts until the end, leaving your neck alone the most. he loves seeing you struggle under him, trying to fight back, trying to stop him, yet so easily getting pinned back down. talking down to you solely for the reason of making you feel more and more helpless, telling you how pathetic you are, how weak you are, how amusing it is to him that you can't even stop him. why? all because he wants you to suffer, he gets off knowing he's practically torturing you. if you weren't so focused on trying to survive or purely drifting out of consciousness, you would've noticed how hard he was; his erection pressing against the tight fabric of his pants. even after you're dead, he still can't help but admire and adore how beautiful someone can look, even after such a traumatic and messy experience. he can't stop himself when he ends up making out with your dead body, or forcing his cock down your throat. honestly, he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to.
(fuck I'm delusional and unstable.)
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pinkydevil16 · 1 year
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Eric Northman x reader: part 7
Y/n laid in Eric's arms, her mind racing as she looked at him, the sun would go down soon and they would be expected to sit next to Sophie and act normal, but now Y/n didn't know what normal was. Normal wasn't making out with Eric or saying she belonged to him just for show, none of this was normal for Y/n. Y/n climbed out Eric's arms, staring at the lingerie for a moment before collecting everything the Queen had gotten her. Standing in the bathroom she changed into the lingerie, spraying perfume on her pulse points before stepping back to admire how the colour looked on her, the frilly garter belt made her waist look smaller and the bra pushed her breasts together making her look ethereal as she turned. The diamantés sparkling in the light as Y/n grabbed the small dress, carefully pulling it on as she looked in the mirror, the dress fit her well, not showing off her figure too much but going in at the waist to define her natural shape, although the sparkles showed through in certain areas which made Y/n pull at the fabric. 
Y/n walked over to the sink as she applied some foundation, her skin naturally glowing due to Eric's blood, adding some blush and eyeliner before using mascara to darken her lashes. Looking between her lipsticks she stared for a while, thinking about Eric kissing them as she touched her lips, quickly pushing away the thoughts and applying a nude tone. Sighing she looked at herself, looking sown at her wrist and remembering how Eric's fangs had felt, how he'd held her so softly and been honest. Shaking her head Y/n brushed her hair, pining it out her face for the meal, placing in some earrings and stepping back to look at herself. She didn't recognise herself as she tilted her head, pulling at the dress again as she frowned, she didn't like white it always got dirty and it wouldn't have been her first option for a meal either. Leaning down Y/n looked at the heels, baby pink, a slight different tone to the lingerie with the same diamantés on the back of the heel, slipping them on Y/n smoothed down her dress, taking one last look before walking out the bedroom. Eric stood buttoning his shirt as he looked at Y/n, an awkward smile on her face, Eric buttoning his shirt quickly and throwing on his blazer before walking towards Y/n as she stood higher due to the stairs. His hand extended as Y/n took it, using him to help herself down the steps as he looked her over, pride washing over him as he saw his necklace still around her neck, cupping her face for a moment before Y/n hit his hand.
"You'll ruin my make up. No touching." Eric grinned, his usual Y/n was back, Y/n began walking towards the door as Eric stared at her, the lingerie barely hidden by the dress as he grinned. He needed to buy her more clothes like that, so many more. Eric moving to open the door with a grin as Y/n rolled her eyes, although he could hear her heart race as he neared her, offering his arm which she took quickly.
"You look beautiful." Eric whispered as they walked behind guards into a large room, fake sunlight coming through the windows with a marble table in the middle of the room. Servants and guards along the wall as Eric pulled Y/n's chair out for her, Sophie sitting at the end of the large table with Y/n and Sookie either side of her, Bill and Eric next to their respective partners and across from one another. At the far end of the table sat Sookie's cousin, Sophie's adviser and another woman in lingerie who all stayed silent, a gap between the two groups as Sophie smirked at Y/n.
"I am so glad you all decided to come and visit me, Sheriff, Bill it is so sweet of you to bring me two new snacks." Y/n eyes widened as Guards grabbed Eric and Bill pining them on their knees, three guards holding Eric as he bared his fangs.
"Touch her and i will rip your head off Sophie." The Queen smirked, walking up to Eric and caressing his face, Y/n and Sookie getting up and trying to get out the room but were quickly grabbed.
"So protective of someone who isn't even yours. You really need to learn who to trust Eric, Bill sold you out the second you got here." Eric's eyes flashed with anger as he stared at Bill who fought to get out the guards, Y/n moving in front of Sookie as a guard took a deep breath.
"You said you would let Sookie go." Bill glared at Sophie as she pouted at him, ruffling Eric's hair as he growled at her, Y/n pushing Sookie further behind her as Sophie walked up to them. 
"Back the fuck up Queenie." Y/n spat, knowing her heart was pounding in fear and she had no power, she was useless and defenceless. Sookie held onto Y/n as the Queen stepped forward, mocking a hurt look as she placed a hand on her chest. 
"That's not a nice way to speak to your Queen, you look so adorable protecting your little Fae friend, but we both know i could drain you before you could even scream." Sookie's hand tightened in Y/n's, reading Y/n mind as she panicked, Y/n's eyes darting to Eric as he kept fighting against the guards. 
"You could, yeah you could but what's the fun in that Sophie huh? You said you like the chase right? So how about a game?" Sophie grinned as she stepped forward, Sookie trying to pull Y/n back as she stood her ground, Sophie's hand coming to twirl Y/n's hair around her finger before tugging her head forward. Y/n biting her tongue to stop from yelping in pain but Eric felt it, he felt it like Sophie had just done it to him instead and it infuriated him even more. 
"What game do you want to play Y/n? Because i'm pretty much winning right now so i don't see why i'd want to play a game." Y/n looked at her with wide eyes, her brain scrambling before she answered.
"Well, uhh, hide and seek. I want to play hide and seek, if you can find me, then you can kill them and me and Sookie will play nice. But if you can't find me, in the time frame, then we all go." Sophie smirked, smoothing Y/n's hair as she walked her backwards, Sookie moving as Y/n stumbled back hitting a wall, Sophie slamming her hand next to her head. 
"You want to play hide and seek with a vampire who can hear your heart beating miles away. How can i refuse." Sophie gripped her chin, leaning down and kissing Y/n harshly, pulling back and licking her lips.
"To seal the deal. You have an hour to hide before i come searching for you, i'll give you a little extra time just because you'll be so cute when i find you." Y/n grimaced as Sophie stood back, allowing her space to move away from her. Y/n getting ready to run before she turned around, hands behind her back.
"You have 20 minutes to find me, since you're a vampire with super speed and super hearing i think 20 minutes is more than fair. And no guards, anywhere." Sophie gave her a look before nodding to the guards, a few moments later Sookie's cousin coming back with silver chains, placing them on Eric and Bill before the guards walked away, Sookie being handcuffed to a chair. 
"Looks like the game has begun." Y/n nodded to Sophie, turning quickly and running, hoping her plan would work. 
Eric felt Y/n's fear as Sophie walked around the room, a wide grin on her face as she listened, Bill trying to save his own skin.
"You promised to let me and Sookie go, you wanted Eric. Now let us go." Sophie laughed, a sickeningly sweet laugh, gripping Bill's chin as she pouted at him, blood thirsty eyes staring into his.
"Your biggest flaw Bill Compton, is your lack of loyalty. Eric has gotten you out of so much, i have had so many chances to skin you alive and use you as a rug but each time your sheriff has saved your skin. You sold him out the second you could, you lured him here to die and expect me to reward your disrespect." Bill pulled his chin from her hold and dropped his head, his eyes cast towards Sookie as she tried to hear Y/n's thoughts, struggling carefully with her handcuffs, eyes constantly darting between Sophie and the door. Eric could barely kneel, silver chains draped over his skin, rows and rows of chains holding him down and searing into his skin. Sophie smirked as she laid across her day bed, in front of Eric as she played with her white dress, fanning it across herself before grazing a finger over Eric's forehead to push back his hair. 
"This whole plan started as a way to get the little fae, then Bill sold you out and suddenly it was too hard not to add a fae and you to my collection. And little Y/n? Your bunny? Well she's just the icing ontop isn't she, torturing you by having her will be so much fun." Eric ignored her, trying to find any strength to be able to throw the chains off and rip her limb from limb. 
Y/n rushed into the kitchen, finding weapons before turning to the door, a few wooden chairs by the door, acting quickly she smashed them against the ground, splinter of wood crashing onto the floor as the chairs fell apart. Y/n grabbing a leg before using the knife to sharpen it, her eyes darting between the clock and her weapon, panic setting in. 40 minutes until Sophie would be released, she had a plan, but it very much relied on being able to get back to Eric and Sookie reading her mind at the correct time. Y/n ran through the house, stake in one hand and knife in the other as she slowed nearing the dining room once more, she had 30 minutes before Sophie would begin searching for her. She needed time to set everything up, thinking loudly Y/n tried to reach out to Sookie, praying she was listening and not arguing with Bill.
Sookie could hear Y/n louder than ever, like she was shouting in her ears as she winced, Eric noticing quickly, sensing Y/n way too close for needing to be running and hiding. Sookie nodded, agreeing to Y/n's plan, looking at Sophie as she huffed at the time, rolling her neck. 
"This is boring. I think the games can start now." Y/n's eyes widened as she heard Sophie, her ear to the door before she tucked herself against the wall, the door slamming open as Sophie raced out. Too excited to use her powers and realise she could hear more than Sookie's heartbeat so close, following Y/n's scent, leading her to the kitchen where blood laid across the counter, hand prints on the door leading outside, Sophie grinning as she followed. Y/n waited a moment before ducking into the room, the door locking behind her as she ran to Eric, pulling the silver from him as blood dripped from her arm. Eric standing as soon as he could, pulling Y/n into him, gripping her face looking her over, he could hear Sophie getting closer, she wasn't fooled by Y/n's charade. Taking the stake Eric hid by the door, Y/n wrapping the silver around her and Sookie as the door flew off it's hinging, Sophie grinning as she walked towards Y/n.
"Well well well, you are smarter than you look. Although...i wouldn't stab me if i were you Eric. You kill me and both of you die, the magister takes vampire crimes very seriously." Eric grabbed her neck, pushing her against the wall, stake against her chest as he bared his fangs glaring down at her. Sophie panicking, her eyes darting around the room before landing on Bill. Y/n standing in her line of vision with a smirk, Sookie now unhandcuffed as she raised her hand, Eric moving behind Y/n, a ray of light coming from Sookie's hand. Sophie screaming out in pain as she stared in horror at the light burning from her chest, her skin burning and charring as she rippled in pain. Eric holding Y/n's waist as they all watched Sophie burn up and die, Bill horrified before Sookie gagged, turning around and vomiting. Sookie wiping her mouth then rushing to Bill to pull off the silver, Eric baring his fangs at Bill, Sookie holding Bill close as she tried to defend him.
"He did it for me Eric. Please." Y/n rolled her eyes, Eric stilling holding the stake as he stepped forward, Sookie raising her hand as she protected Bill. Y/n moving in front of Eric with a scowl, crossing her arms as she glared at Sookie.
"Are you fucking serious right now? He sold us all out! He's the whole reason this happened and you're defending him? We all almost died, i got assaulted on so many different levels for you and now you're going to threaten to kill Eric for your lame ass boyfriend?" Sookie's eyes watered, squaring herself as she nodded, Y/n letting out a laugh as she dropped her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Jesus christ Bill, you must either be the ultimate god of sex or a god of manipulation to be able to keep someone on such a tight damn leash. I mean you sell out everyone around you, endanger her life, throw her under the bus and use her constantly." Sookie's hand wavered as she listened, looking back at Bill, giving Eric the perfect opportunity to knock her out, Sookie's body hitting the ground as Eric slammed Bill to the wall, stake at the ready.
"Wait, what's the magister Eric?" Eric explained to Y/n quickly, his eyes not leaving Bill's as he slowly pushed the stake closer and closer, his mind swimming with rage.
"Eric, give him to the magister, we can say he killed Sophie, he glamoured Sookie and forced her to do it." Eric gave it a thought before snapping Bill's neck, his undead body hitting the ground next to Sookie's. The damage was done, and now he had to clean it up. 
True blood taglist:
@m00n5t0n3 @celibacy-or-death @elle4404 @katsav17 @
i don't really like this part, sorry it was so late i had some personal stuff happen so this feels really rushed
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friendofcarlotta · 1 year
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Men in Uniform
It took a long time for the tremors to subside. 
John stood in front of the mirror above his dresser, and he watched his body quake. His hair was still damp — tousled where Mom had dried it for him, like she used to do when he was little. 
“You okay there, kiddo?” she’d asked him before she went to put his clothes in the wash. 
Kiddo. Maybe it should’ve been a comfort, but it felt like an insult. He was a grown man. A man who’d fought for his country. He shouldn’t need that kind of comfort, and didn’t know how to accept it when offered.
“I’m fine,” he’d told her. Just like he’d told the others, back at the hospital. 
Fine. Fine. Always fine.
Sometimes it was even true.
Right now? Not so much. Every time he let his eyes fall closed, he saw the jungle. Whether it was the jungle belonging to the war he’d fought or the god he’d fought… didn’t even matter. Different continent, same bullshit. 
As the tremors finally quieted, he sat listening to the sounds of the house around him: the creaking in the eaves. The chatter and canned laughter of some sitcom Mom was watching downstairs. I Love Lucy reruns, probably. The two of them used to sit and watch Lucy together, Mom's arm tight around him while they giggled at the antics on screen.
Maybe he could go down there and sit with her now. Pretend, just for a little while.
But no. It wouldn't feel right. Not with the memory of blood on his hands and screams in his ears.
Like Simon & Garfunkel said, I know I'm fakin' it. I'm not really makin' it.
He still sat listening when the TV shut off and he heard the familiar tread of Mom’s feet coming upstairs. He’d never forgotten exactly which stairs creaked, and how to step so as not to make any noise.
As soon as he heard the door of Mom’s room shut and the light inside click off, he made good use of that knowledge. He slipped down the stairs and into his jacket. Went through the front door without a sound. 
In the forecourt, the lights were off for the night, the filling station deserted but for a ‘64 Pontiac GTO that had been left for Mom to fix. 
Once upon a time, this used to be his favorite playground. He’d be underfoot constantly, asking Mom every little thing about each car that came in. He’d wanted to know what made them special and how to take good care of them, because one of Mom’s favorite opinions had always been that people who don’t take care of their cars probably aren’t worth a damn. 
Now, as he passed that Pontiac, all he could see were places for something to hide. In the shadows beneath the undercarriage. In the backseat. In the trunk, with the lid lowered just enough to make it seem like it had latched.
In an effort to reset his thoughts, he made the crucial mistake of closing his eyes.
Out of nowhere, the gasoline-and-laundry-detergent stink of napalm filled his nostrils. The cool night air of Kansas turned sticky jungle heat, and the gleam of streetlights off the pavement was the spark of fear in Carlos’ eyes after he'd stepped on the grenade. 
“John?” he’d said, so quiet. Surprise and a sense of an ending.
Just like Murph. 
John pressed against the nearest wall, waiting for his lungs to draw breath again. The tremors were back. They seemed to be traveling upward from his hands, shaking him through and through. He watched the street, and he waited for Mars Neto himself to stride down it. 
Until he remembered: Mars Neto was dead. A god, dead by his hands.
I know the anger you have inside you. Set it free.
“Fuck that.” John pushed off the wall, nostrils flaring as he forced himself to walk it off, to keep pushing air into his lungs. 
When he’d left the house, all he’d wanted was to move, no matter where. But he found himself unsurprised when his feet followed the route to the Campbell house. It was a decent walk — nearly two miles — and by the time he got there, his breath came easier and his body felt his own again. 
All along the streets, the lights were out in the houses. No surprise maybe — it was well past midnight by now. But it was easy enough to pick his way by the streetlights until the Campbell driveway came into view. Mary’s car was parked there, and Carlos’ van behind it.
Just past the van, there was a spot of brightness in the midnight dark: the Campbells’ porch light. It illuminated a lonely silhouette rocking back and forth gently on the porch swing, its outline unmistakable: a full head of curls, flowing down past the person’s shoulders.
Carlos seemed lost deep in thought, in a way John had never really seen. As far as he could tell, Carlos was the clown, the king of improvisation, chaos personified. 
Except, no. John thought back to group, and to how Carlos had talked about being on watch, watching the red tips of the Viet Congs’ cigarettes light up the jungle night. He’d looked a little bit like this then: turned inward, like the mere act of sharing those things out loud was helping him look at them differently. 
Maybe John shouldn’t disturb him. Maybe he ought to turn around and go back home. He wasn’t even sure what he’d come here to find — other than a bit of company, maybe. But as John turned to go, his weight shifted, and his foot landed on a dry branch.
Crack.
Carlos’ head snapped up. “John?”
(John? The fear in it, the uncertainty. He blinked away the memory and willed his hands to stop shaking.)
“Oh, uh. Hey.” 
He stepped forward reluctantly, until the pool of light that streamed from the porch enveloped him.
“What are you doing here?” Carlos asked. 
John shrugged, embarrassment rendering him mute. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Same.” Carlos motioned at him to come closer, putting his entire arm into the gesture. Maybe nobody ever taught him that gestures ought to be subtle and economical, just enough to get the point across. Or maybe he’d unlearned that lesson on purpose, since the war. 
John considered, but he couldn’t think of a polite reason to refuse. He’d already given himself away by being up this late and having walked here in the dead of night. It was stretching credulity just a bit too far to claim he’d ended up here by mere accident. (Why had he come though? To see Mary? It seemed the most logical answer, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t the true one. He’d come looking for a different kind of companionship: someone who understood the horrors that lived behind his eyelids.)
And so John made his way up the porch steps.
“Sit.” Carlos patted the seat next to him on the swing. John sat, leaving as many respectable inches of distances between them as he could in the narrow space.
While he was still trying to adjust his position, Carlos set down his feet and pushed.
The swing rocked forward, knocking John's feet out from under him. His hand flew to the armrest, the other landing on Carlos’ knee as he fought to steady himself. “Fucking hell, Carlos. What was that for?”
Carlos cackled. There was no other word for it. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” 
John made a disgruntled noise. He planted both feet on the porch slats and folded his hands between his legs, trying not to show the way his heart beat in his throat from the sudden rush of adrenaline. He kept his eyes straight ahead, on the van in the driveway, but he could tell somehow that Carlos was looking at him. Studying him.
“So what’s got you awake?” Carlos asked.
John shrugged. “You know.”
Carlos’ shoulder bumped briefly into his before withdrawing again. “Your eloquence is truly a wonder to behold, John Winchester.”
John refused to be baited. "How about you? Thought you’d be taking full advantage of having a proper bed to sleep in for once.”
“So did I,” Carlos said, sighing as he leaned back. He lifted both feet off the ground and stretched his legs out in front of him. If John had wanted to set the swing rocking as payback for earlier, it would’ve been so easy. “Turns out when you’re used to sleeping on the road, it’s hard to get used to the luxury of a soft mattress.”
“I can see that.”
For a moment, they both sat silent, listening to the katydids’ night song and the occasional snatch of engine noise off the distant highway. 
“Also, every time I close my eyes, I think about…” Carlos trailed off, but John didn’t need him to finish. 
John? 
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”
“So… in group,” Carlos said, and John stiffened. His hands weren’t shaking yet, but he tightened their hold on each other preemptively. “While I was gone. What did you talk about? If it’s okay to ask.”
John’s hands tightened further, knuckles pushing white against his skin. He was still looking straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and not seeing a damn thing, but still he could tell Carlos was looking at him.
“Forget it,” Carlos said. “I didn’t mean to—“
“Murph.” The word was out before he could snatch it back. “My friend. He died… that way. Stepped on a grenade. I saw it happen.”
His next breath felt barbed. Maybe he’d been holding the air in his lungs too long and failed to notice. 
“I’m sorry,” Carlos said. 
John made himself breathe in through his nose this time, nostrils flaring with the effort of forcing oxygen into his body. “You ever… you ever lose a friend?” Immediately, he amended, “Fuck, sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
But Carlos said, “Yeah. There was this guy Tom. We used to smoke up together. He always had the best shit for some reason, but he never told me how he got it.” 
There was something about the tightness in Carlos’ voice that made John want to look at him — assess what might be going on. So he did. 
Carlos was smiling, as it turned out, but his lips were tight with it. Not a real smile then. 
“We helped each other out another way too, if you know what I mean.” There was a teasing lilt to the words, but it was all façade, no substance. John wasn’t sure if he was meant to react, and if so, how. He waited for Carlos to keep talking.
“Anyway.” Carlos breathed out through his nose. One of his hands came up to sweep his curls over his shoulder, like none of this mattered in the least. “He got himself shot. I tried to put pressure on the wound, bandage him up, but… it didn’t work. He’d lost too much blood.”
John couldn’t figure out what to say. He fixed his eyes on his clasped hands, trying to think. Nothing people said about Murph ever seemed right. Ever seemed like enough. He ought to tell Carlos he was sorry, maybe. But sorry wouldn’t bring back Carlos’ friend — or whatever they’d been to each other. John knew that better than anyone.
He still wasn’t sure what he’d say when his mouth opened and words came spilling out. “Murph and I, we… just the one time.” 
Fuck. Fuck. Abort. Change the subject. Now.
Carlos huffed another breath through his nose. This time, it sounded like a laugh. “Like I said," he sing-songed. "Men in uniform.”
John recognized Carlos’ words for what they were: an offer to downplay the whole thing, turn it into a joke. He clutched at that offer with both hands, forcing lightness into his voice. “I mean, nobody ever tells you how fucking boring war is, you know? When you’re not scared out of your mind, you’re just… waiting around. And there’s nothing much to do, to pass the time.”
When Carlos chuckled, John felt it vibrate through his shoulder and further inside, all the way to the gaping darkness in his chest where Murph used to be. Carlos must’ve moved closer at some point, because if John was certain of anything, it was this: when he’d first sat down, they hadn’t been touching like this, thigh to shoulder.
“Nothing to do,” Carlos agreed solemnly, “but men in uniform.”
It was the strangest thing, but John felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t have held it back if he tried. It burst out of him, shaking all through him just like the tremors had done earlier.
When he finally hiccoughed his way to silence, Carlos was watching him. This time, the smile on his face was a real one. “You have a nice laugh, John Winchester,” he said quietly. “I like that about you.”
“Thanks, I guess,” John said. He was smiling down at his lap, his cheeks hot and his hands rock-steady. 
“I believe I’ll be going to bed,” Carlos said, stretching the words into a cat’s languid purr as he raised his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his muscles. “You have a good night. And don’t be a stranger.”
“Yeah,” John said. “Night.”
He kept his eyes on his lap as Carlos hopped off the swing and brushed off his pants, getting ready to walk away. 
Except Carlos didn’t walk away. He stood still, and John found himself looking up after all. As soon as he caught John’s eyes, Carlos bent down close. His curls tumbled over his shoulder, so close that John could’ve twisted one around his finger if he wanted. 
One of Carlos’ hands came to rest on John’s cheek, and he leaned closer still. John’s blood rushed in his ears.
He felt the smallest, gentlest brush of lips against his cheek. Plausible deniability in the shape of a kiss.
“Like I said,” Carlos whispered in his ear, the ghost of his breath raising the hair on the nape of John’s neck. “Don’t be a stranger. And feel free to watch me walk away.”
John did. 
When he was sure Carlos had gone, John left the porch, beginning his long walk home. Around him, the night was quiet, and his hands were steady.
He thought maybe he could sleep.
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1800nosleep · 2 years
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Cruel Summer
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synopsis;; reader falls in love with David but the feelings are not returned
requested? no
one shot
warnings;; gn! reader but kitten is used a petname, manipulation , cussing, vampires being vampires, blood, death, drinking blood, sort of asshole! david, star isn't mentioned, (think of reader as sort of a star replacement), no y/n used.
You saw him on the boardwalk, it was a hot summer night and you were hanging out with your best friends. You could see him staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. He had four people around him, his four friends or 'brothers' as he'd call them, then a small boy.
After a few nights of seeing him looking at you with a look that would make most people run away for their safety, you decided to do the unthinkable. You went up to him and started a conversation.
"Hey man! Couldn't help but notice that you've been starin' at me when we see each other. Just wanted to know why," you spoke as his friends looked at him sort of crazy. "What? Cat got your tongue? Don't bite off whatcha can't chew!" You exclaimed as he looked at you with a very different look.
"How do you feel about riding with us? Just once, that's it," he said with a small, almost cheerful smirk on his face.
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Months passed, and you hung out with him even more than you had thought you would have. He treated you better than most people have. You ultimately found out what he, his 'brothers', and the small child were.
You found out by following them when they "went out", he took a bite out of someone's scalp, and you had to take a double take. You knew he was a weird dude, but certainly not that weird. Luckily he hadn't noticed you, but there was no way you couldn't confront him and the boys about it.
"David?" Sitting behind him on the bike, he watched Dwayne and Laddie go into a clothing store, he hummed in response, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah. What about?" He asked still watching Dwayne and Laddie. A wave of nervousness washed over you as you attempted to ask the question.
"Are you a... a... um..." you speak with uncertainty.
"What? Spit it out, you know how I feel about you mumbling and mutterin' shit."
"David, are you and the boys vampires?" You spit out, worried that what you saw was really what happened and not just your eyes deceiving you.
He was silent for a good five minutes before answering you.
"Yeah, we are."
You were hoping you didn't hear what you heard, but at the same time, you prayed that he was just kidding.
"Why do you ask?" Most if not all of the color left your face, 'how would I tell him?', 'isn't he gonna be mad?', 'just lie to him, a white lie doesn't hurt anybody.'
"You're joking, right? You're just bullshitting me because it's close to Halloween right?" He looked at you with a look of confusion, this being the only time he looked at you in a while.
"No, I am being serious, the boys and I were persuaded by a man during the darkest times of our lives, and he guaranteed that we'd live better lives as vampires."
"So, what I saw was real," you muttered. As soon as the words left your mouth, his head whipped around.
"What? What did you see?" Fortunately, you didn't have to answer the question because Dwayne and Laddie come running out of the store with bags of what you would have to assume are clothes that they stole.
Days later, you're sitting on your couch in your living room watching a horror movie, David had promised not to tell the boys that you know that they are vampires, yet you had an overwhelming feeling. The feeling was almost recognizable yet you couldn't tell what it was. It felt like a burning hole in your heart.
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David had knocked on your door, by himself, it was close to morning and you figured he didn't have time to get back to where ever he lived. Was it a mansion hidden away from the city? No, they don't seem like the type of people to own a mansion. Maybe a beach house? No, too many windows, they wouldn't be able to hide from the sun. How did he know where I lived?
"Hey? Can I come in?" He asked softly, he had a small smile on his face. You nodded and let him in.
"So you're probably asking why I am here," he said with a smile, as he moved to the couch, "so the man who promised us a better life, is pissed that we're killing the people we drink from and I haven't eaten in a few days, kitten please."
"Oh my, do you want me to mak-," you cut yourself off as you realized who you were speaking to. "Well, I guess I could let you feed off of me," you uttered.
He smiled as he moved closer to your spot on the couch. You moved your hair from your neck before he pulled you into his lap, making you straddle his thighs. Your breath quickened as he sunk his teeth into your neck.
It all happened so fast that you didn't realize that he had you pinned down on your bed. Your breath was still as fast as it was earlier yet, you had a hazy feeling.
"I love you." You looked up at him as his face contorted to a different look.
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way."
red = couldn't tag
tagged;; @charlizekkelly , @patient1666074 , @bea-bo , @pawesome-but-pawful , @coolsnowker
comment to be tagged <33
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comfort-questing · 1 year
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25. assumed dead
FE:3H war phase again. why is it always the Blue Lions I visit disaster on? but they're just so made for hurt/comfort. sorry not sorry
-
"She has to be here somewhere. We might as well keep looking." Felix's voice cracked with exhaustion, muffled by the folds of his up-tugged cloak collar. The rain had long since soaked through his hood, dripping in his eyes and soaking the fringe of his hair.
"What if - what if she - " Ashe's voice was very small, his keen archer's gaze sweeping the dusk-dim woodlands as they walked. "She might not be - "
That wasn't a question Felix had let himself ask, or meant to answer out loud. He knew well enough what a fallen pegasus rider looked like. If Ingrid hadn't been dead already from the spell-blast before she hit the ground, the landing would have been enough to kill her. But here he was anyway, out with Ashe and a scrounged-up healing potion in hand, searching the woods of the day's battlefield in a vain approximation of hope.
He hadn't seen Ingrid fall, only heard of it from Annette who'd been led crying back to camp by Dedue. He didn't like to think of the sick dull look in Professor's eyes as they'd dispatched the two of them to search.
If he'd gotten to choose an associate to search the woods for a mangled corpse with, he wouldn't have picked Ashe anyway. But Sylvain needed to get his broken arm splinted and Professor was busy all but sitting on an angry Dimitri to get the Boar to accept they couldn't break camp and march southwards tonight. Which also ruled Dedue out. And Annette was no use at the moment, and Mercedes and Flayn more than busy at the field hospital. So Ashe it was, after the archer boy had volunteered.
He clenched his fists around the edges of his cloak, pulling the sodden cloth tighter around his body. Ashe was a dozen paces ahead of him now, half-invisible in the gathering dark, peering into the shadows and still calling Ingrid's name now and again.
They spotted the pegasus first - down in a hollow just beyond the feeble attempt at a path, standing sway-backed with wings trailing on either side of it, bloodied. Ashe's voice and his footsteps must have startled it, because it shied, shoulder dipping as it put weight on one foreleg.
Ashe ran forward anyway, haphazard, plunging ahead. Felix took the downward slope slowly, boots slipping in the mud beneath him, grasping at the thin leaning saplings for balance. He watched Ashe fling himself down by the crumple of cloth and pale hair barely visible in the dusk, hands hovering helpless above the motionless form there. He clenched his teeth, willing himself steady as he followed.
"Felix! She's - I don't know if she - "
There seemed no use in speaking. Ingrid's eyes were closed, her skin transparent and chilly in the downpour, blood clotting in her hair against the rain's attempts to wash it out. The gray tendril-bruises of the dark magic spell lay like a spiderweb across her face and disappearing down into the collar of her jacket. Both of her legs were badly broken, twisted and limp, the white of bone showing in the wound just above one skewed ankle. Felix couldn't see any motion of her breathing, but he reached out anyway, elbowing Ashe aside and tugging one glove off.
He'd expected nothing, told himself so all the way through the rainy half-light, known it was most likely far too late for their mission to make any difference. So the first moment of stillness under his two fingers as he felt for a pulse at Ingrid's throat didn't surprise him. But the faint, thready motion there a moment later did, and then another, and as he leaned close to his friend's face he felt the slightest whisper of her breath against his skin.
And then because there was still a chance, because it wasn't the end yet, he cursed the sudden rising hints of panic in his chest and grabbed for the healing potion in his pocket, uncorking the bottle and tipping it to the corner of Ingrid's mouth.
"She's not dead," he said, gruffly, and watched Ashe's eyes widen in a sudden weary relief. "Not yet. Go back and get help, and hurry."
-
It shouldn't have been long. It couldn't have been long, now that they knew where to go. But still it seemed dreadfully long that Felix sat there, in the slow endless dripping rain, with Ingrid lying next to him as he cautiously fed her the potion mouthful by mouthful and waited for help to come. He'd wrapped his cloak over her, though it was wet enough he didn't know if it was any benefit to either of them. Her hand was cold in his, but he'd felt her swallow the potion after coaxing, and watched the grimace of pain pass across her face briefly as she brushed against awareness.
"Stay still," he'd told her. "Don't try to move. I'm here and the others are coming soon."
And in the end there were lanterns in the woods, and voices, and Ashe with Mercedes at his side, and Professor done with or spelled out from Dimitri-management and sliding down the muddy bank in their desperation - "Felix! We're here - "
And he thought, he thought he saw Ingrid smile, just for a moment, though her eyes were still closed - and that broke something inside him so that he had to swallow hard despite himself, as he looked up into the lights and the faces of their friends.
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WaW Angstpril Days 17/18 - Self Sacrifice/Mind Control
Warnings: lady whump, graphic depictions of violence, blood, broken bones
The first thing Anaria did after untying Girad and getting him clothes was handing him a weapon. He was in a terrible state from his captivity by Hakur, but a weapon would come in handy, even if it was just a long dagger.
"Thank you," he said, voice raspy. It was probably that way from screaming; he had wounds all over his body. Anaria very clearly remembered watching him get some of them. But, if Hakur hadn't projected that to them, she wouldn't be there to save him now.
It wasn't Hakur's regular keep, not the one he'd kept her in, but of course, she still felt uneasy entering the dungeons, remembering all too well being stuck in a place like this. But Anaria had wanted to be the one to find Girad and get him to safety. She couldn't let anyone else do it. 
"Are you ready?" Anaria asked. Girad was probably weak from muscle atrophy caused by lack of movement, but they might have to fight their way out. Well, unless Sol's forces had overrun the keep, which was also likely. 
"Anaria..." Girad said her name in a way he never had before. It was strangled, as if someone had a hand around his throat. However, Anaria was the only one present.
"Girad?" He had his head down, so she leaned down to look him in the eyes. "What's wrong?"
His eyes were glazed over with something she'd never seen before. 
And then he attacked her. 
He stabbed towards her with his dagger. Anaria hadn't seen the attack coming, so she wasn't quick enough to dodge. The dagger impaled itself in her left shoulder.
She screamed in shock and pain, kicking, as Girad forced her back against the wall.
"Girad! What are you doing?!" 
He didn't speak. Instead he pulled the dagger from her shoulder, leaving her to scream again as blood gushed out. He aimed for her heart this time. 
Anaria got a hand free, thrust it out at his chest, willing her magic into the movement. Girad went flying straight across the room. He cracked his head against the wall, and then slumped down, unmoving. The bloody dagger clattered free from his fingers.
Putting a hand to her wound to stop the eager streams of blood, Anaria staggered over. Gods, she hoped she hadn't killed him. Hurt washed through her, hurt like she'd never experienced before. What... what was wrong with him? Why had he turned on her like that? 
"Girad?" Anaria pressed her left hand to his neck, felt his pulse thrumming against her fingers. She checked the back of his head. There was blood, but not a whole lot. She hadn't meant for him to hit his head. Fuck, if he didn't make it out of this, it would be all her fault. 
Running footsteps came down the hallway. Anaria turned, releasing her wound to clumsily draw her sword. She was in no state to fight, but if this was an enemy-
"Anaria, what happened?!" The voice was Sylvae, and she could see her face by the glow of the torch. She was hurriedly coming into the cell, observing the scene before her.
"Girad... he... he attacked me." Fuck, she felt like she was going to cry. Now was not the time for that. "I had to stop him." She sheathed her sword, crumbling to her knees. She looked to her wound. She'd lost a lot of blood. "Please. I just want him to be okay. Please." She didn't know why she was pleading to Sylvae. If Girad had fractured his skull, there was nothing she could do. If they got him to a healer in time though…
"Rest, Anaria," Sylvae said, helping her to sit. "The keep is ours."
"And Hakur?"
"Nowhere to be found, the coward." Sylvae shook her head. "I'm getting a healer." She looked to Girad, then back at Anaria. "I'm getting a few healers. You stay here." 
"Thank you, Sylvae."
Sylvae nodded, and then she was rushing off. Anaria felt so alone when she heard her footsteps leaving. Now, she let herself cry. She didn't understand. She didn't understand at all what had happened. Why had Girad attacked her? What was wrong with him? She'd just... she'd just wanted to hug him after so long, kiss him, but he'd stabbed her instead. How could he have done that? 
She looked towards him through her sheen of tears. He was unmoving. If she'd killed him, she would never forgive herself. Yes, it had been in self defense, but that didn't matter. She loved him! She was just so utterly shocked and confused. Her wound throbbed.
It wasn't long before there was a commotion in the dungeons, Sylvae rushing in with healers behind her. Anaria was made to lay down, and she gritted her teeth and winced as hands touched her wound. 
"Is he alive?" she asked desperately about Girad. "I... I had to..."
"What happened?" That was Anika asking. She'd seen the bloody dagger by Girad's hand. 
Anaria looked to the older woman through her tears. "He a-attacked me," she got out. "I... I don't know why. I had to defend myself. Please, will he make it?" 
"Yes, he'll make it," Anika said, looking over to the healers working on Girad. Anaria grunted and cried out at the painful sensation of her wound being closed. "I don't understand though. Why would he attack you?"
"You think this makes any sense to me either?!" Anaria snapped. She hadn't meant to. "I'm sorry. I'm just as confused as you are." 
Anika looked between Anaria and Girad. 
"Get him on a stretcher," she ordered. "Princess, can you stand?"
Sylvae helped Anaria to her feet. She ran a hand through her hair, fluttered her wings a little. "Yes. I'm fine." Girad was taken past her on a stretcher, unconscious still. She felt an ache in her throat.
"Restrain him once he's safe," Anaria said. "We don't need him attacking anyone else."
"Of course, princess," Anika said. With a bow, she was leaving the dungeons. 
It took a little while for Anaria and Sylvae to leave, no matter how much Anaria hated the place. She looked back at the wall she'd thrown Girad into, saw his blood on it, and she felt sick. 
---
Anaria stayed by Girad's bedside waiting for him to wake, even after what he'd done to her. She didn't feel an ache in her shoulder, as the healers had worked on her multiple times. They had with Girad too. His skull had been fractured, but there didn't seem to be any damage to his brain, (which they wouldn't have been able to fix). Thank the gods.
But why he had attacked her? No one knew. They would have to wait for him to wake up to understand more. 
Anaria hated how he was tied to his bed - certainly he would be tired of being bound, scared of it - but it was for her safety and for the safety of everyone else. 
It was on the fourth day of having taken up residence in the keep that he stirred. Anaria lifted her head from the book she had been attempting to read. 
"Girad?" She stood, left the book on her chair, and went over to the bed. 
"Anaria?" he asked. His voice sounded more normal than it had that time he'd said her name in the dungeons, right before he'd stabbed her. He opened his eyes, looked away from the sunlight coming in from the window. He wouldn't be used to sunlight anymore. It just showed off how pale he was. 
Then he seemed to realize what position he was in.
"Why am I tied up?" he asked. He looked at her pleadingly, with the beginnings of panic in his gray eyes. 
"You don't remember?" Anaria asked cautiously. 
"What am I supposed to remember?"
Anaria put a hand to her shoulder, the scar of where he'd stabbed her. "You attacked me," she told him. 
"Attacked you?" He cocked his head. "Anaria, I would never!" 
She pulled her tunic aside to reveal the scar. "But you did."
Girad looked at the scar in horror. He knew all Anaria's scars, would know that this was a new one, a recent one. 
"I..." His eyes suddenly grew dark. "It wasn't supposed to be you."
"What... what do you mean?" Anaria took a step back, putting her tunic back in place. She was trying to hide her fear, but she didn't know how good at it she was. His voice sounded off, like it had back in the dungeon. 
"Let me out." His words were cold, a demand.
Anaria shook her head, taking another step back. "Girad, I can't!"
"Let me out!" He began fighting against the ropes, pulling and pulling, as if he was ready to tear muscle over it. He thrashed on the bed, screaming. Some words became intelligible. "I need to kill him! I need to kill Sol!" 
"Guards!" Anaria cried. She couldn't watch this any longer. And she had to warn her father. Something wasn't right in Girad, like an idea had been planted in him, an order of some sort. And he had to follow it no matter what. 
The guards rushed in. They assessed the situation quickly, ran to stop Girad from tearing himself out of his ropes. 
"Anaria, what is it?" Sylvae asked, standing by her, looking horrified. "What's wrong with him?" 
"I... I think he's being mind controlled." 
"Excuse me?" 
Anaria shook her head. She didn't know how to explain. "I have to talk to my father." 
She rushed from the room, not wanting to hear anymore of Girad's desperate screams. 
---
She found the king on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. She hadn't been outside the keep since the battle, and she saw that there was carnage there: scorched stone from fire, ash, the remains of blood stains. The bodies were gone, at least. 
"Father?" she asked, approaching him. 
Sol turned to her, and concern grew on his face when he noticed the horror in Anaria's wide eyes.
"What is it?" 
"Girad... I think I know why he attacked me," Anaria said. "I think it's magic. Hakur's magic. He implanted an order in him to kill you, and he tried to kill me instead." 
Sol blinked at her in shock. "How do you know this?"
"I was just with him. He woke and began yelling that he had to kill you. I..." Anaria took a deep breath. She'd run there, was still panting. She wiped a tear away, turned away from her father. Even after all the times he'd seen her cry, she didn't want him to see her cry over this. "We need to help him. It's not his fault." 
Sol put a hand on Anaria's shoulder, very gently, as if afraid he would scare or startle her. Those days of straying away from touch were long behind her though. 
"And we will," Sol said. "If you say it's not his fault, then it isn't." 
Anaria turned to him, nodded mutely, feeling a lump in her throat. 
"This is dark magic, Anaria," Sol said. "I'll need your help."
"But I'm no healer." 
"But you know Hakur and his magic," Sol told her. "We must draw it from Girad." 
"Energy can't be destroyed though," Anaria said. "Where do we put it once it's out of him?" 
Sol looked like he hadn't thought of that. He put a hand to his beard. "Hm..." 
"Will an object be strong enough to hold it?" Anaria asked, starting to think of the worst.
"We have time to think on it," Sol said, lowering his hand. 
Anaria shook her head. "We don't. He'll hurt himself trying to get to you. We need to do it now." 
"But what will we put the curse into?" 
"I've got an idea," Anaria said. And she wasn't going to tell him what that idea was, because he'd stop her from doing it if he knew. "Let's go." 
"But what-" 
"No time." Anaria grabbed Sol's hand and began pulling him through the keep. She didn't know her way around that well, but once she was close enough, she heard the screams, and followed those. It appeared Girad was still struggling. 
But there was part of him left in there. Anaria knew it. She'd seen it in him before he'd attacked her, before he'd tried to get free from his ropes. 
The scene they came upon was a bloody one. Girad had escaped his ropes, and one of the guards lay bleeding on the floor. The tiles were stained red.
Girad stilled from struggling against the guards when he saw Sol. His eyes were almost black.
"You," he seethed. 
And with a purpose and strength he'd never had before, he shoved the guards to the opposite ends of the room and lunged for Sol. Anaria jumped in front of him, and all three of them went down. 
Girad had a hand on Anaria's chest, and she gasped in shock and pain when the pressure snapped her collarbone. But at least it wasn't her father. He was clambering up from the floor, and he yanked Girad up and off of Anaria. She felt like she could breathe after he was off of her, even with the horrible pain in her collarbone. 
Sylvae, who wasn't hurt, helped Anaria up from the floor as Sol tried to grapple Girad back onto the bed. 
"Hold him!" Anaria cried. She rushed forward to help, Sylvae by her side. Together, the three of them managed to hold Girad down on the bed. 
Girad tried to bite Sol as he put his hand on his forehead, as if crazed. Anaria looked to him desperately. There had to be something there, some sort of curse, some sort of magic. 
"I found it," Sol said, voice tight with exertion. "It's in his mind, like a black pit." 
Anaria touched Girad's cheek, and his eyes flickered back to gray. 
"What's happening?" he asked, tears in his words. 
"We're going to help you," Anaria said. And she knew what to do. Touching his skin like this, she could sense the magic too. She had to siphon it out of him. 
Anaria leaned down despite the pain she was in, despite all the people around her, and pressed her lips to his. 
"Anaria, what are you doing?!" Sol cried. He tried to pull her off of him, but she remained where she was, body firm, resolve steady. 
And she began to pull the magic, the curse, into herself. She nearly choked on it: it felt like black smoke going down her throat and into her lungs. She had to stay connected to Girad till it was all gone though. 
The magic streamed into her body like a river of blood and smoke. She trembled, but held onto Girad. Her wings began to spread out, almost as if it would help her against the tide of the curse.
Then it was all gone from Girad. She could feel light inside of him again, and darkness within herself. She pulled away, gasping for breath.
"Anaria..." Girad looked like he understood what had just happened, but he was weak, and soon his eyes were closing. 
Anaria collapsed onto her side. Sylvae and Sol were there instantly, touching her, cradling her head. 
"Anaria, that was foolish!" Sol cried. There were tears in his eyes. Of course there were. Her mother, his wife, had died from a curse, and now Anaria had just drawn one into herself to save her lover. 
"No," Anaria said weakly. "Love is not foolish." 
She could feel the blackness swirling within her. The curse hadn't been meant for her, and was now trying to leave her body by destroying it. The pain was unimaginable, so bad she couldn't scream. She opened her mouth to do so, but no sound came out. She tightly clutched her father's hand. If she was dying, she wanted to be with him. 
"Tell Girad..." She couldn't finish, couldn't get the words out. The thought left her almost as soon as it had occurred. 
Her vision began to tunnel, and the last thing she saw were the tears on her father's cheeks.
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melancholymirth · 2 months
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❛ i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you. ❜ shut uP, GARRETT--
prompt
It was not the first time he'd killed a man; not the first time he'd killed in front of V; neither of them were naïve to think it would be the last time, either. One rather loses hope for that after the third offense. But because something cements itself, it is not simultaneously agreed upon. Still, what could he do? Such was the cost of his commitment.
V took him home, quickly, grateful for the cover of night. At the very least, it always happened at night. V hardly spent a thought over their odds, but tonight had been different. Tonight, he'd been so quiet, ever faithful in his attentions, even as he wiped gore from Garrett's face. He'd need a shower anyway, and his clothes were not to be salvaged. But V kept him still, and cool, when he got him to sit atop the toilet, all while lost in his own mind and his hand mechanically wiped and rubbed at blood stains for no tangible purpose. Cold water, gentle pressure from a washcloth, another hand keeping his head still—how were his hands not shaking?
He simply knew, the very moment he heard a patron speak a little too closely to his ear, that the night would end in shades of red. He knew it with a sinking dread, and it didn't take more than a string of presumptive words for that pitiable creature to seal his own fate. He knew not what predators lurked around the corners—behind the bar! He hadn't even touched V, like one other before him who met his end torn to ribbons and burned to ash— Tonight, it was only flirty words. Only flirting!
And he was heaped in mounds of his own flesh, seared and blackened but not cooked, left to decay in a corner, not even an hour ago, down a dark street where he'd been followed; Garrett had that blood on his hands now, scraps of skin stuck under his nails that he was picking out while having his face wiped clean.
V rubbed the blood off his lips, but it had stained and would require a deeper clean. Garrett likely still tasted it on his tongue. He was only talking to me.
Thick was the air, their little bathroom already full from storminess. The washcloth was soiled in most spots now, and V would soon have to leave him to shower. V could see plainly, under the bright bathroom light, that the gore had soaked through his shirt, staining and leaving tacky much of his upper body. V was used to it, when it wasn't human blood. He swallowed thickly when he felt a lump in his throat, having spent a little too much time staring at a blotch of blood on Garrett's chest that looked wetter, richer than the rest.
He was used to this, he was. It wasn't that he couldn't handle the blood and guts—he wouldn't have devoted so many years of his life to that kind of dirty work for his livelihood—or the loss of life that came with it. But...it had only ever been of the infernal breed. Demons were unwelcome here, and usually they'd come to eat or conquer or destroy in some other deplorable way. Human beings died by their fangs, by their wrath and their arrogance and their greed and their jealousy.
He was only talking. He hadn't touched me yet. I hated it but it didn't make me sick— V brought the cloth under the faucet to wring it out, but it was as good as a lost cause by now. His own hands were stained, but the contact was indirect, thus easier to wash out with a good lathering. He knew attentive eyes were watching him: he hadn't said anything since sitting Garrett down. He hated it, but it didn't make him sick. I knew it was coming, that I would see it. I'd hoped, maybe, that he would listen this time... For god's sake. I thought he'd try to resist. I thought he'd try harder, after that last time.
A demon was sitting in the bathroom, dirty with blood and the viscera he'd ripped open. Strips of skin like shredded cheese, threads of sinew, even pieces of the offender's clothes were stuck to him when the pair arrived home: a demon V loved and committed himself to, a demon he married and would do anything for. Did taking human lives count toward that devotion? Is that what it took to be loyal, reliable, inseparable? True? But...how could V ever expect Garrett to betray his instincts? Simply enough, he didn't. That was why he had to adapt to the thing he could not control; the one thing he would have liked to change, once upon a time—but it was clear to him now, with vicious finality, that he had no power in this area, where Garrett's perception of territory and protection were concerned.
And, ultimately, V had to make peace with that. He was in the process, took one step further every time his mate saw it fit to turn against his principles, all for V's sake. Protecting human lives lost its meaning whenever the one precious life to him was under threat, and that was as sweet of him as it was...conflicting.
But V could never get it out of his memory that he had led mortal men to death once before, when he was many years younger but still enjoyed demonic protection; only, then, it was solely in the form of his familiars. They came to his aid to maim, and left his attackers to bleed to death. He was a coward to run, and a monster in his own right to let it happen at all. Garrett would tell him it was deserved, and to some extent V agreed—but it never sat well with him to rob his fellow man of life or limb.
All these years later, he'd seen it was simply par for the course: his job, his compassion for the helpless, his husband.
"I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you."
Garrett must have seen his eyes close. Surely, he must have noticed the long pause he took to breathe. V turned his head instantly when he heard Garrett's voice, marking the absolute absence of shame or regret in the affirmation given. It didn't really surprise V, just cemented things all the more. Maybe that's all he needed, to simply know it for an irrefutable fact that Garrett would never be swayed from his course. A demon, wrathful and greedy, and maybe a little arrogant for it, and jealous to his dying day.
V hadn't dried his hands, leaving them to rest and drip over the boundary of the sink. Looking at Garrett made him aware of all things around him, including the wash his husband desperately needed. However, for all the things he was feeling, hardly an ounce of it leaked through his very dry countenance. He loved Garrett enough to suffer his own moral compass when it reeled, to forgive him, every time, he sought retribution against those who disrespected his V. And maybe it was difficult at first, but for him to be willing to forget and move on, as if the killing was necessary and excusable, spoke deafeningly to the reprehensible lengths V would go to for Garrett. In his own way, he was no better. That blood was on his hands, too, and he'd forgiven it and thanked Garrett for it and loved him all the more at the end of the day.
He's protecting me. He loves me enough to do anything. I must love him in kind. I already do, if I can stand here without a break in my resolve or...even fearing what he'd do to me. I cannot look at him and think him a murderer. I cannot see a monster in those eyes. Am I blind? The way he looks at me now, I can only forgive—but I'm afraid for him.
V shook his head, distant. He finally turned from the sink to dry his hands. He needed a moment to fight the very tender boy within, who seemed ready to cry at any moment over any thing. But V fought him, shushed him and sent him cowering back to that sad, frightful place they so liked to inhabit together, and he took in a deeper breath for some steel so that he could face his bloodied mate without wavering.
Something might happen.
"I know. You would get your hands so dirty for me." Voice quiet and level, but not distinctly warm. Troubled peridots landed on Garrett, who regarded V with fierce sobriety. "I can accept that—I can. It gets easier, slowly, but..." Brows pinched then, with worry. "I won't deny that I am afraid. I feel as though...we've gotten lucky, so far. As one would put it, 'getting away with murder'." V couldn't have been any clearer with choice words like those, and whether he meant it to or not, the phrase cut. Garrett was suddenly stiff under his gaze, but whatever emotions he was feeling were not betrayed by the very solemn frown on his brow nor the shadow it cast over his eyes. His hands, restless, were picking at nothing but his own nails, and so he forced them to lace, tightly, while his attention on V was full. It was good of him to keep himself from interrupting—but he did know it, well, when V had something serious to say.
The doting thing had blood caking in his hair, too. V had been keeping him this long, and he would keep him still. But, he made sure his voice was quiet enough so it wouldn't carry through the pipes and walls to connecting apartments. "I fear someone seeing you, hearing something, maybe...finding you, somehow, and..." He didn't have the guts to finish, though he figured Garrett understood where his train of thought was going. V knew Garrett feared nothing of that sort, as he'd always boasted about being able to escape anything, and that he'd allow nothing to keep him from V. That was overconfident of him, but the sentiment was appreciated all the same. When facing reality, however, V could not help his pessimism, and he could even less help factors beyond his control. Garrett could not risk it all for one man, no matter how much he thought that man deserved it.
Because, if something should go wrong, where would that leave V? Tonight, the thing that shook him most was not to watch a man be butchered, but to weigh the gravity of its consequences, to consider the likelihood. Would it be poetic justice at all for Garrett's willingness to protect to be what leaves them all hurt and vulnerable? A sick twist of fate? And if it wasn't justice that put an end to all things, would it be a lost mind instead?
In his moments of blind retribution, the mind bent to the roar of his heart. Up until now, Garrett had been smart to completely disfigure, char or reduce to total ash whatever villain had deserved it. He rendered them unidentifiable, therefore next to impossible to investigate, their killers impossible to trace. But even so, even so, the mind was so oft a fickle thing, and not even Garrett could guarantee that his own would not snap and lose itself entirely in the heat of his passion. Had protecting V, and seeking vengeance on his behalf, been worth risking his sanity for? Sometimes, V wondered if Garrett would come back to him; if the cloud would lift and let him see and think again. Maybe V was unfair to doubt, but was he wrong to? Had he no right to worry over losing the person who'd mattered most? If anything happened to his beloved, his best friend, his better half, his partner in (some) crime and business, his soulmate, V did not trust that he could go on without.
He needed a moment to look away, so he dipped his head and let out a taxed breath he hadn't noticed he'd taken in. An unconscious, nervous gesture, he haphazardly ran a hand through his hair, making a mess of his vision but preferring that to tears in his eyes. Mercifully, they let him be. "You would sacrifice everything just to protect me, at the risk of losing even yourself... That's...that's selfish." His head shook feebly as he lifted it, hooking Garrett in the eyes with his own: deliberate, yet sympathetic and seeking sympathy. "If I were to lose you, for any reason at all, what would happen to me? I have an answer, but you won't want to hear it." You already know that I cannot live without you. It's too late for me to try again. "I would sooner die, Garrett."
V was undeterred when he brought his hand to Garrett's cheek, holding him steady and warmly as he was wont to, comforting him in the way that had become too familiar by now, practically typical, signature. V needed the comfort in this touch, too, and something to ground him as he fought the tearful child inside to leave him be again. He wasn't about to break down in tears over this, whatever it was; he didn't want any more pity than he was getting, though he was going to ask for more regardless. Calmly, he continued before Garrett could jump in. "I'm not going to tell you how to do what you do. I can even less seek a promise from you, so I won't. But...if you would at least be wise..." His hand did his pleading for him, pressing into Garrett's cheek, thumb stroking. "Be careful about where you are, or who listens, if you or we are truly alone, if someone doesn't already know— Just be careful, be smart. Keep your head clear. Don't get lost in something that you can't get out of. I want you with me, alive and well. And sane. That's...all I really care about."
Ultimately, that was all he wanted to say. Or needed to, at least, for now. There may have been more to get off his chest, but he didn't care to keep the conversation going: it was making him frightfully depressed. Besides, his mate was filthy and there was a greater need for air to clear. V supposed he could live with blood on his hands, indirect though it was. It was shed for love, not hate, he had to think of it that way or he'd never make progress. He only hoped, sincerely and urgently, that the love he so much craved once upon a time would not, in the future, be the very same that would ruin him and end his life as he knew it.
Maybe it already had, if he was so wiling to condone murder in his name. Garrett was such a good boy; so good that it made him bad. V loved him for it. Perhaps they were both morally reprehensible, deep down; and, frankly, V was too exhausted right now to care or give it a second thought. He had no smile or sorry frown for Garrett, simply more of that dryness, but it was fond between the lines and in his half-lidded eyes. At last, he took his hand away, lingering no more than a second before turning toward the door that led into their bedroom. "You'd better shower. I'll wait for you."
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hansama · 3 years
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Skeletober 04 - Mockery.
bonus 2 different suits cuz u know he owns stuff like that
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razrbladekiss · 3 years
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Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure
A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.
SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
WORD COUNT: 2.7k
WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.
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The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.
John Teller was always so astute.
His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.
To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.
She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.
But Jax was different. He'd always been different.
Maybe that wasn't so great, however.
"You're fucking insane, Isla."
"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.
"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."
Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"
Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.
"Shut the fuck up."
"Isla--"
"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."
"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.
She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.
"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."
"But the infection, Isla."
"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."
He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"
"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.
"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."
"Oh, fuck you--"
"Christ!"
The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.
"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."
"Chibs--"
"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."
Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.
For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.
Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.
"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.
Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.
And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.
Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.
Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.
She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.
But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.
Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.
It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.
One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.
However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.
But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.
She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.
Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.
God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.
"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.
"Bloody."
She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.
Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.
"Is he doing okay?"
It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.
"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"
"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."
"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."
He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.
The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.
She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.
"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"
"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.
The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."
"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."
A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.
Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.
"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.
The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.
She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.
"Where the fuck is he?"
Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.
Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.
"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.
She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.
"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.
The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.
Bitch.
"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"
Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.
"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."
He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.
The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.
It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.
Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.
But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.
Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.
It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.
"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"
Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.
She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.
It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.
Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.
Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.
Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.
"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"
"I've got it."
If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.
"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"
"I asked her to help, mom."
"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"
"Gemma, quit it."
She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.
"He's in there--"
"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.
But she did.
The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.
It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.
Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.
She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.
She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.
"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."
He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.
The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.
Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.
He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.
"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.
But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.
"She's fixing Cameron up--"
"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."
He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.
"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.
"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"
"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."
He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.
"Excuse you?"
"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"
"With what?"
Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.
He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.
But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.
"Jax--"
"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.
"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"
"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.
The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.
The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.
"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.
He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.
But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.
"Jax, honey, what did you do--"
"I killed Kohn."
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pedropascalssimp · 3 years
Text
his gaurdain angel
Eugene sledge x nurse reader
Part one of a mini series
Summary: nurse y/n y/l/n, was the only female nurse on Peleliu Island. Having been transferred there when the island was in dire need of medics. After Eugene sledge gets injured and sent to the medic tent he finds his heart laying in the hands of an angel.
Warnings: language. strong mentions of death I suppose. mentions of blood. War. And of course a splash of fluff.
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Peace was a privilege most couldn't afford, only the fortunate new what it was like to sleep in a nice warm bed at night, mind at ease while not having to sleep with one eye open. Not having to worry about being snuck upon and killed in their sleep. The fortunate knew what it was like to be surrounded by a glorious silence, the only noise around being that of the singing birds and chirping insects. The fortunate had the privilege of living in a peace and Tranquillity.
But the unfortunate? They were the brave souls fighting for that world peace the fortunate bathed in. They were the one's who spent night after night trying hard to get some sleep on the cold hard ground with a rifle in one hand and a prayer in the other, hoping that they wouldn't be slaughtered in their sleep like a helpless pig in a sty. The unfortunate tried using old lullabies their momma's sang to them when they was young just to erase the sound of gunfire and the cries of dying men out of their brains for at least a few minutes. But it never worked, nothing could bring the soldiers peace in a cruel world like the one they lived in. Perhaps that's what made them fight so hard, fighting for a world full of peace...
The unfortunate was the young auburn haired man who sat in the sand, brown eye's squinting do to the suns harsh light beating down on the soldiers. The said auburn haired soldier held a old pencil in his dirt covered hand, his brows netted in thought as he stared down at the piece of paper, until finally he slowly drags the pencil across it writing words of his bogus journey on this God forsaken island...
"who you writing to sledge? Is it A mystery woman back home or something?" the voice of his friend Sydney spoke, the blonde letting the ghost of a smirk dance across his face.
Eugene let's out a breathy laugh and shakes his head, "nah... Just figured I'd write my parents, ease momma's worrying a little bit" Eugene said lowly as he focused on his writing. Sydney nods in understanding, having known Eugene before the war.
A silence falls over the two, the silence foreign to Eugene considering it was a rarity on Peleliu Island. But of course the silence is broken by a face Eugene hasn't seen in days, his new found friend Snafu. Who gained a major concussion after a surprise visit from the japs. Eugene puts his pencil down with a relieved smile, Sydney standing up to greet the grinning man.
"shit, you look awful damn happy to have just gotten out of the med tent all the way back in the tree's" Sydney commented on the grin snafu was giving them.
"man if you saw what I opened my eyes up to then you would be walking out here with more then a grin" the dark haired man spoke with a smug smirk. "that nurse sure is a gorgeous woman, nice too but if you get on her nerves she ain't afraid of letting you have it man" he says while sitting down beside Eugene who chuckles.
"hell maybe I should twist my ankle and visit the med tent" Sydney jokes.
"you two are a handful" Eugene spoke amused at the men. Snafu lightly pats Eugene's shoulder.
"she's a angel sledge, the only damn beautiful thing out here on this damned island" Eugene picked his paper and pencil back up, not paying his friends words any mind... But soon he'd understand what the soldier was talking about.
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"we need more gauze!" a gruff voice yelled, the male nurse hovering over a soldier who had a bleeding wound on his left shoulder. The screaming of pure pain emitting from the soldier peirced your ears as you grabbed the gauze and ran over to the male nurse.
"this is our last roll! Use it carefully because I have a bad neck wound over here that's in dire need of coverage!" you frantically exclaimed, making sure the nurse understands the importance of saving the gauze.
"yes ma'am" he grunts out and began fixing the soldier up, who screams in pain. You rushed back over to the soldier with a neck wound, cleaning it as best you can with how much the soldier moved and cried in pain.
"don't you fucking touch it you bitch!" the soldier yells huskly, tears streaming down his dirt and blood covered face. You let out a sympathetic huff and delicately rinse the wound off, resulting in louder cries and insults. After that you placed a hand on one of his shoulders while the same male nurse as before hands you the gauze back hurriedly before attending another poor soldier.
"if you don't hold still sir this will only hurt worse!" you say scolding, yet voice as gentle as always. The man holds a tight grip on your wrist, the one you had placed on his shoulder. It was painful but you bared through it as you began to wrap his wound, curses and cries escaping through his chapped lips as you done so.
But you finally done it and soon the soldier released your wrist and began to snooze off. You sigh and look over the tent, everyone taken care of. It was a rare moment for you, a moment to were you could take a break, sit down and breathe. And that's exactly what you done. Sitting on a empty wooden crate you let out a deep breath, closing your eye's and taking in this moment of peace.
Until it was shattered by three voices yelling for help. You shot up faster then lightning, leaving the tent and outside into the suns relentless heat. That's when you spot one familiar soldier and a blond boy, both carrying a unconscious auburn haired man, his face burnt and shirt soaked in blood. You hoped it wasn't his own, for it was a lot of it.
"we need help! Please!" the blond rushed out, the familier dark haired man spots you with a relieved look before the concern takes over once more. You rush to their sides.
"take him inside Shelton! Take him to the same cot you was in, it's the only one available!" you ordered your former patient, he nods and him and the blond take the unconscious man inside.
You soon followed them and watch how the placed him on the cot. The blondes hands was shaking, a terrified look on his face. You stride over and look over the unconscious man, from the looks of it, his face was mildly burnt which would heal over time. But whenever you took his shirt off exposing a gash across his abdomen... You felt a wave of fear wash over you. This gash meant it was easy for him to gain a infection, and many soldiers died in this tent because of that....
"is he gonna be alright miss y/l/n?" the dark haired man asked, the one you knew as snafu from attending his concussion weeks ago. You and him spent late nights talking, by talking he flirted shamelessly while you scolded him for doing so.
"I can't predict the future Shelton, but I can do my best to help him" you say truthfully, quickly looking over the tent. The two other nurses were busy.... You quickly turned around to look at snafu. "I need you to get me some water, boil it for at least ten minutes! And you" you look at the blond, "try and open me that crate over there!" you point at the last of your medical supplies. The two nod and do as you say. You quickly grab your damp cloth, carefully cleaning the blood off his abdomen.
"it's open!" the man yelled. You look over at him with a little smile.
"I need the gauze, cotton pads and stitch kit out of it" you say, to which he complies and grabs everything you asked for. Once he hands them to you instantly open the stitch kit. Grabbing the needle from the box. "do you have a lighter on you?" you ask the soldier. He starts going through his pockets and finds a box of matches.
"will these work?" he asks, causing you to nod and take them. Now all you needed was snafu to get you your water.
After a while snafu returned with the water, hurriedly handing the little kettle of water to you. You take it and set it down on the ground beside you. You was currently on your knees beside the unconscious man, getting a better look of his wound. You take the kettle and slowly dip a cotton pad in the water, cleaning the dirt and blood off his gash. After that you take the matches and lit one up, holding the flame to the needle.
"snafu hold him down, he'll most likely wake up during this process and I can't stitch him up while he's thrashing around" you muttered while focusing on the needle. You blow the match out and start fixing the stitching process.
Snafu and the blond both hold the man down, snafu holding his shoulders while the blond hold his legs. You take in a deep breath and placed your hand on his abdomen, right above the wound. Then you carefully stick the needle in his flesh and start sewing up the wound. And like you predicted, a pained yell was heard from the man after you was halfway through stitching him up. The sudden movement of the poor soldier squirming around makes you poke the needle into your finger tip. But it didn't bother you much as you was souly focused on the man's stitches.
"hold him!" you scold the two soldiers holding him as you try and move faster. A broken yell from the auburn haired man ringing through the tent. A cry soon followed. But just when you finished stitching him up he passed out once more. You stand up with a sigh and wipe the blood from your hands. Grabbing the cotton pad and gauze to cover the wound.
"you both can leave, I appreciate you're help" you said, looking at the men. Snafu looks at the auburn haired soldier before nodding his head.
"thank you miss y/l/n...." he murmured before leaving the tent, the blond following him out. You look down at the unconscious man and sigh. He had soft facial features, his nose sharp yet cute... This man was young, probably the same age as yourself. Much to young to see the things war played out for a man. You pushed a strand of hair off his sweat covered forehead. He was a handsome man, a beautiful contrast to this horrid island.
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The night fell before you knew it, the sound of insects enough to take your mind away from where you were, humming a small tune as you washed any remaining blood from your hands. The insects heard outside reminded you of home, all those nights in the summer you spent outside as a kid playing before it got to dark out.
Home... Somewhere you long to be. But then again you wouldn't be able to live with yourself knowing there was brave souls fighting for the world while you sat at home doing nothing. That's why you volunteered to be a nurse, helping soldiers recover from horrible accidents. Although your mother hated the thought of you being out here, your father supported your decision all the way.
You rid your mind of thoughts of home, knowing it would only make your time here longer. So you gently place your hand against the auburn haired soldiers forehead feeling for any signs of a fever. Luckily he felt fine. Just when you went to move your hand the man's eye's fluttered open, the coffee colored orbs flickering across your face. You stopped humming the song you was humming and give him a little smile.
"am I dead?" he asks, voice low as his southern drawl breaks the sound of insects. "I have to be... I mean this ain't exactly what I imagined heaven would look like but the angels are far more prettier than I thought... At least this one is" he muttered, looking up at you. You felt a blush faintly paint your cheeks as you let out a little chuckle at the man. His compliment making your heart do a flip.
"you aren't dead soldier, just a bit beaten up is all..." you replied with a smile. The man let's a little grin tug at his lips.
"that explains the immense pain I'm feeling" he grunts while trying to move, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and give him a stern look.
"don't even try to move soldier, you'll tear you're stitches" you watch how he let's out a little huff.
"my names Eugene" he spoke quietly, you sit on the end of the cot beside him and give him a soft smile.
"I'm y/n... It's nice to meet you Eugene" you murmur while looking over his burns. They had to be painful. Eugene smiles a small smile before his eye's land on the harsh bruise that had formed on your wrist from earlier today.
"how'd you get that?" he questioned with furrowed brows, his eyes flickering up from the bruise and landing on your y/e/c eye's.
You simply shrug and look at the bruise, "a soldier earlier today... He didn't mean to actually, he was in pain and I was trying to clean his wound" you explained. Eugene nods in understanding while letting a little sigh escape his chapped lips.
"it must be hard dealing with a bunch of rough patients, especially since... Y'know, the only girl out here - well not girl - woman! Because you're a woman..." he rambled nervously, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. You giggle at him and shake your head, finding his rambling adorable.
Adorable? Jesus christ y/n get your shit together, you can't be finding this man adorable. You couldn't fall in love... Because then you would be distracted and that would lead to you screwing up work and that would result in serious consequences....
You banished those thoughts quickly and give Eugene a soft smile, "it's not as rough as you'd think, most men listen to me and the ones who don't? Let's just say they quickly learn how to" you say with a grin. Eugene chuckles, his amusement slowly turnes into a coughing fit though. You are fast to grab a canteen full of water and hold it by his mouth, your free hand cupping his jaw as you held the canteen by his mouth letting him drink. He gulps the water down until finally he finishes. But as you pull the canteen away, ready to remove your hand from his face. He softly places his hand over yours, keeping it we're it was, his hand sending a warmth and comfort through you that you didn't want to end. You furrowed your brows in confusion, not that you was complaining about his actions. Like said before he was a handsome man, but you didn't want to fall in love during the middle of war.
"what are you doing Eugene?" you whisper, but he doesn't respond. He closed his eye's and leans into your touch. It caused your heart to melt at the sight, you was already falling....
"that song you was humming earlier... Will you sing it to me?" he asks so softly that you couldn't deny the man. You nod and run your thumb over his soft skin. You wasn't one for singing for people though, you was naturally a shy person but for some reason, you didn't feel as shy around this man.
" sometimes I wonder why I spend... My lonely nights.... Dreaming of a song" you started singing stardust, the Tommy dorsey song your mother listened to every day, the melody one you couldn't forget.
He slowly falls asleep, a small smile on his face as you lull him to sleep. And that's how you spent your night, singing to the soldier you found yourself falling for....
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A/n: I felt the need to write for joe, and then this was floating around the drafts so I decided to post it hehehe, it's a mini series I'm working on, probably gonna have 3 or 4 parts. So my radical joe mazzello /Eugene sledge lovers.....here you go!
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