#and instead you ripped his heart out and left it bleeding on the floor for everyone to see | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yawnderu · 6 months

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Bruises That Bloom Purple — TF141 x Reader

>This was originally going to be a part of my 141 x Reader fanfic Stray, though I decided to change the ending, so have this angst one-shot instead.

When Johnny left them, they mourned. But he also took a part of Stray; the part that made her human.

The journal in your hands was a reminder of everything you lost— everything that Johnny had in mind ever since he met the task force. Pages upon pages full of scribbles, drawings, plans. His mind poured into the paper as if he didn't want to forget, some pages stained with coffee and blood, some fully clean. Your hands shook as you held the small book close to your chest, sob after sob escaping your lips for so long that the migraine became a second part of you.

"Johnny..." You cried out, hoping he would walk through the door. Hoping he would appear out of nowhere, hoping he would take you with him, hoping for anything, anything at all that allowed you to see his pretty blue eyes again, to be held securely in his arms again, to be kissed by him again. Fuck, even the image of him hurt.

You didn't lose a teammate— you lost a soulmate. A piece of you, of your soul, a piece so crucial to you Makarov might as well have ripped your heart out and left you to bleed pathetically on the cold floor of the underground tunnel.

You're sobbing so loud you don't even hear the polite knock on the door, eyes screwed shut tightly, sealed by the tears that come flowing down like a broken dam. You don't register anything going on around you until you feel a bare hand on your cheek, vision blurry, yet you can recognize that burly figure anywhere— Simon. You don't do anything other than to keep sobbing, pressing the journal closer to your chest, maybe hoping it'll start sinking into your skin and will allow you to have a part of Johnny within you.

"I'm here, love." He whispers softly, his tone more gentle than anything you've ever heard. He slowly lays in bed with you and brings you closer to his chest, not minding the mess of saliva, tears, and snot now staining his shirt.

"Somethin' to keep your heart safe." He pressed something cold into your hand— Soap's dog tags. You instantly hold them tightly, using them as a lifeline to stay with it. Simon presses a soft kiss against your forehead before his hand presses on the back of your head, holding you even closer, allowing you to cry on him.

"Johnny had the braid you gave him with him all the time, did ya know? Kept it tucked away in his jacket. I r'member him talkin' about it all the time, braggin' about how you gave 'im that." A small chuckle escapes your lips for the first time ever since he died, the sound full of pain and bitterness, yet it was something. It gave Simon all the confirmation he needed to keep talking.

"He kept everythin' you gave 'im. If it wasn't the bloody braid, it was a picture. If it wasn't one of those... it was a letter." And you know it was true. You've read his journal for what feels like hundreds of times, some of the letters you gave him were tucked away in pages with drawings of you. If a letter wasn't there, it was one of the many polaroids he had of you. Some alone, some together, some with the entire task force, including a masked Ghost.

Your throat is too sore from sobbing, you couldn't even speak if you wanted to, so you simply nod while laying your head against his chest. There's something about Simon that has always glued you together— something about the man who, even when you didn't get along at first, gave you an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps it's his smell, perhaps his voice, and maybe even his soul, that always seems to be one with yours.

"For Johnny, 't was a reminder that he was never alone." He kisses your forehead again, one of his hands gently massaging your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your back, spreading the warmth of his hand all over your trembling body.

You remember the exact same moment you gave him that braid. A protection braid made with a small strand of the bottom of your hair, sealed with words of affirmation and wishes of the future, a few months after your relationship with the men started. Love. Survival. Companionship.

"When we..." You began, voice wavering and weak, yet it had Simon's full focus. "When we scatter his ashes, can you do me a favor?" He'd do anything for you.

At 15:30, the 141 arrived at the cliff. You're all stuck in silence for a few minutes, mourning in your own ways while looking at the sunset and the ocean below you. The view is nothing short of breathtaking, yet the heartbreak is too great to fully appreciate it. You can't help but think Johnny would have loved this view, but the thought is quickly interrupted.

"He was the best of us." Price says, gravely voice growing even deeper at the pain of losing such an important part of his soul.

"The toughest." Gaz continues, looking into the ocean.

"He'd've fought the world bare handed..." Simon replies and all you can do is look into the water, trying your best to hold it together. Simon leans down, grabbing the urn from his backpack. He holds it up and you all put your hands on it, holding a part of Johnny for the last time.

"Who dares wins..." And win he did. At the very least, Johnny found a family.

"Sleep easy, soldier." More than a soldier, Johnny was the son he never had.

"See you down range, brother... we'll take it from here."

"Rest easy, my friend. You’ll never be forgotten." You fought off the urge to call him your love, your soulmate, yet they all knew what was in your mind.

"Rest in peace, Johnny." The words barely came out of his lips. It was like losing Tommy all over again. Simon opens the urn and lets the wind take Johnny's ashes, flying away, freeing his soul. You all look at him go and you manage to let a small smile take over your lips, watching proudly as he flies away, despite knowing he took a part of your soul with him.

Simon and you stay behind, knowing Price and Gaz will be waiting in the car for you. You slowly sink down to your knees, hands resting on your lap. It doesn't take long before Simon kneels behind you, hands gathering your hair before he begins to braid.

Revenge. Death. Vengeance.

His free hand pulls out a combat knife that belonged to Soap, lining up the razor sharp blade to your hair. With one smooth motion, he slides through the hair easily, letting the now shoulder length strands fall free. He places the braid on your lap and you look down at it, eventually letting the hair go down the cliff the same way you let go of Johnny.

You never let go of grief— you grow around it. And despite the agony your soul is in, you know these three men will do anything for you, the same way you'll do anything for them.

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marchsfreakshow · 14 days

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Desperate Pain [James Patrick March]

Uhh,,,,idk this time lol

James saw someone flirt with you. He thinks that since you looked at the man, you were flirting back.

Idk what this is but @coentinim gave me the idea. With some things from @briaroftheroses too<33

18+!! Just because. MINORS DNI.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Hands desperately tugging behind your back, despite being tied up strongly. And little pleas, crys and whimpers escaping you. "please James, i didn't even say anything to him.."

Oh no, that's not good enough though is it? He's not giving into your desperate cries. Instead he's carrying on his job, making sure this absolutely dreadful man knows what he's done to you. "You see, this, beautiful angel, is in fact, mine." The words beautiful angel dripped with exaggeration, but you knew it to be true. James was simply obsessed with you and your beauty.

The man, simply just asked if you were single and how a pretty thing like you was sat alone at a bar. All you did was look at him! You shot him one single look. A deadpan, neutral face. Now he was pathetically crying, yelling out. His fat being cut, his hands being burned to a crisp.

James knew he couldn't have that. He couldn't have you away from him. You even acknowledged this desperate man? Such a harlot. Do you even love James? Do you even want to keep your promise of being his? He's asking these questions quietly to the half dead, man holding up a knife to the idiot's cock. Just a little cut wouldn't hurt. One slice through the middle. So he really wouldn't hurt your precious cunt. That was his property, only for him to ruin and destroy.

"see what you've done my pretty little harlot? You hurt me so dear." Another desperate whimper left you as he dragged the used knife under your chin. Watery and begging eyes up at him, just wanting to apologise. Such an adorable sight weren't you? Squirming around on the bed as your legs and arms were bound by his bloodied ropes, just wanting to get up and stop James. "I don't think it's fair that he gets it all and you get away free hm?" Oh no. What was it he was planning? Whatever it was, tears were threatening to escape you, making your vision blurred.

James chuckled as he watched you move around on the edge of the bed. "I will not be touching you, anywhere until you have learned your lesson." He whispered right by your ear, even refraining from lightly tracing that cute jaw of yours. "Find other means of pleasure until I say so my dear." You suppressed a sad groan. Your own pleasure was the worst. How on earth could you do that when James can fuck you so good at a moments notice? He'd drop anything if you were desperate enough.

A whimper escaped the two of you out of the seemingly, erotic, eye contact. James' head whipped around to flirting man.

Shot after shot. Bang after bang. Two holes now in the half dead man's heart. If he wasn't dead before, he was dead now. Back to your crying face. The bloody knife still in hand. "how else to make you learn your lesson?" He questioned rehtorically. If it was up to you, you'd let him fuck the idea into your empty head. Getting it through that small, thoughtless head of yours that you. Are. His. Forever.

So, your trousers were ripped off. Discarded on the floor somewhere, and a warm breath on your thighs. He was just torturing a man, why were you so turned on? "Ow..ow, fuck!" You squealed. James' bloody knife in your inner thigh, carving his initials. A raggedy 'JPM' as a way to mark his property. Drops of blood trickling down your thigh, onto the bed. It took every ounce of self control in the ghostly killer to not lick up the irony tasting liquid. He had to keep to his promise. Not touching you, not for a while anyway. So he left it to bleed.

Leaving it to bleed as he worked his way up to your exposed, veiny neck. A J there, P right in the middle and a sweet little M to finish the job. No one could deny that you were his now.

"There. Now, you. Are. Mine. Dangerous bird aren't you?" He chuckled at your dying body. You'd come crawling as a ghost, so he knew not to be upset.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

#ahs #evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #james march #ahs hotel #x reader #james march x reader #JPM #james Patrick March x reader #james Patrick march x you #James march x you #suggestive i guess?#jpm x reader #jpm x you #American horror story hotel #ahs imagine.

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judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

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May I please request headcanons for Hotch, Derek, and Reid reacting to their female S/O (who's a high-ranking cop) getting attacked by an unsub that she's been trying to catch?

OMG yaas I was thinking of doing a fic like this 🤞

Finding out that female reader was attacked while catching an unsub 🤍

Derek

He was waiting for you,Emily,and Hotch to come back after he and JJ questioned the victim who had managed to escape 2 hours earlier getting a call he answered seeing it was Spencer "Reid what's up" as soon as he answered spence immediately patches in Penelope to the call

His heart stopped when he heard you scream while you fought off the unsub doing everything in your power to stay on your feet and keep him from overpowering you at any moment and trying not to scream out your name knowing you wouldn't hear it

He could feel his heart and soul being ripped out of him as the fighting went on hearing the unsub throw you into the wall,the both of you landing hits on each other some more painful than others,and the yells from you of anger not backing down

He almost collapsed on the ground when he heard the gunshot ring out and silence choking up as he drove to the site going in hearing hotch and emily yell for you as he finds the unsub knocked out and unarmed on the ground while you were holding on to a door only a few feet away standing in shock and frozen by what he did to you

Spencer and JJ came in and talked to you waiting for the ambulance he yelled and almost got physical with Hotch when he heard him try to call additional medical help for the unsub but when he saw the look on morgan's face and looked at how bad you were he immediately stopped as the ambulance came in taking you out on a gurney

He held your hand tightly and talked quietly when you called his name letting you know he was there until they took you for testing and to treat your injuries leaving him in the waiting room sitting down and crying thinking that you wouldn't be okay

He kept crying even when the team slowly came in sitting beside him emily on his right holding his hand and spencer on his left with his hand on morgan's shoulder as they all waited for any news of your well being

3 hours later the doctor came and told them that you were okay that there was no internal bleeding, fractures,or broken bones and that you also didn't have any severe face and eye damage though it would take time for your face to heal due to you receiving bruises and cuts one of them near your eye but physically you were okay

He took off work with you helping care for you and slowly recover from what happened being a wreck from having nightmares and jumping at every noise to being afraid to be touched and sleeping on the couch

After awhile you slowly heal from your face healing and going back to work to you acting like you did before when he touched you and cuddling him when you went to sleep opening about what happened and start to feel like normal again

Hotch

He heard emily yelling in the sheriff's office running out he found out what was going on hearing you yelling and screaming fighting with all your might and trying not to yell out fall to the ground

He drives after some demanding and when spencer answers a call from penelope he immediately put her on speaker for every one in the car and he stopped breathing hearing you fight back yelling in pain after being thrown into a wall soon tears are flowing down his face hearing the fight go on

He felt his stomach flip anxiously and churn at your yell of pain of being slammed halfway through a wall and his heart stopped when he heard the gunshot and hearing silence instead of either you crying or groaning in pain or the unsub yelling in pain

He ran inside as the car stopped everyone else following after him finding him holding you in his arms your gun a few feet away on the floor you look unrecognizable with your face swollen and bleeding a little with your right eye swelled shut,wheezing breathlessly,and your side bruised badly

He holds your face in his hands calling your name in tears begging you to wake up as JJ called for an ambulance and Morgan checking your pulse holding his breath tightly even when you felt your heartbeat slow

The unsub was on the ground knocked out by you right after your gun went of and thrown across the room grabbing and hitting him in the head with part of a cinder block knocking him unconscious on the floor

You tried to walk to quickly get your gun but after taking two steps you collapsed due to all the pain and because of the adrenaline rush and your sense lowering from being heightened from being in flight or fight

The ambulance came in Emily having carefully pulled Hotch to the side while they loaded and carried you out and in the ambulance with Hotch right by your side holding you hand and talking to you begging you not to leave him and jack after he never thought he could love anyone again after losing Haley

As soon as he was stopped from following you any further he leaned on the wall and when he was alone again he slid to the floor sobbing hoping that you would make it cause he knew he wouldn't make it without you beside him and jack

Hours later of waiting with the team beside him they got the news that you were alive and you didn't have any seriously severe injuries to anywhere in your body you would have to take time to recover but other than that you would be fine

You ended up with a swollen and bruised face,right eye swollen close not being able to open,a cut on the side on top of your head and a bigger cut on your neck reaching to your upper shoulder,3 broken ribs,and a collapsed lung from going through the wall

You were scared the first while not being able to sleep,taking a couple of weeks off from work hotch being there for the first bit helping care for you when you were in alot of pain and barley move then it just being you and jack the rest of the time of physically healing jack helping you and being the sweetest boy he was

You returned to work making sure to show and let hotch know you were okay and that while you still had thoughts about it it wasn't in the way of being afraid but it made you even more of a strong,kind,and determined person than you already were

Spencer

He was doing paperwork at his desk when Hotch came down and told him to immediately come to the meeting room where they had some surveillance but his heart stopped hearing a man yell on the phone and you yell back fighting him off you

He ran out and drove after finding the location of where you with a worried JJ and anxious Morgan following him and making sure that if you did get hurt that he wouldn't make a decision he would regret because of what happened

He ran in after stopping the car with jj and morgan right behind him making sure everything was clear finding the unsub locked in an empty room passed out from exhaustion while you were on the floor outside beside a chair laying your head in it trying to stay awake as the ambulance came in and loaded you on the stretcher with spencer right next to you until he was in the waiting room with the team waiting for hours

He grabbed your hand after you were put in the back of the ambulance crying for spencer while he gently rubs the side of your face until you arrived at the hospital and strolled away with him in the waiting room with morgan and jj then with the team for the next few hours

The doctor came out telling them that you only had a pulled muscle in your shoulder,bruises and cuts on your face,and a broken finger but you would heal and be fine physically but mentally no one knew

He stayed right by you sleeping on the couch without you saying anything but ended up there one night because you wanted him next to you

He took off work the first few weeks helping you deal with the pain and nightmares and even taking you to meet and see his mom

Despite the injuries you went and she immediately loved you being careful with grabbing your hand where your finger was wrapped and mindful of touching your face

You slowly recovered but still having nightmares going to a therapist and talking about the incident and learned how to handle the nightmares and started sleeping normally again

You returned to work and slowly things became normal again but you still remember everything but whenever you did spencer was right there reminding you that everything was okay

#criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan x reader #spencer reid #derek morgan #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader

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violentdelights-violentendss · 28 days

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Hii :) if you still do requests could you do a one shot where Tangerine teaches the reader something, like fighting for example. And they realize there’s tension between them? Thank you so much!💗

Ofc! Thank you sm for requesting something! I presume you meant sexual tension…so I added some smut…? Hope that’s okay!! Boi, this turned out to be super long. Please, request as much as you’d like!

Dog Shit Fighting

Pairing: Fem!Reader X Tangerine

Synopsis: Heated moments ensue after you both train together.

Warnings: NSFW

You hissed in pain, the deep slash on your leg leaking warm blood. You gently placed your hand on it, feeling the ripped fabric of your tights under your fingertips. “Fuck me,” you groaned, the pain blinding, making you dizzy. You leaned against the wall, sliding on the floor. The bodies of the men you had just killed littered the room.

You sighed, barely focusing on them. You’d slowly started getting used to killing; the sounds of their now lifeless bodies collapsing to the floor. The light trickling away from their eyes. It didn’t slash your heart as much as it used to when you had started a two months ago.

You sighed, closing your eyes, and resting your head against the dingy wall behind you, the grime sticking to your hair. “God, just a few months ago I was a law abiding person,” you thought, glancing down at your blood stained hands.

“Yeah…and perhaps it would have been better for you to remain a law-abiding person,” a voice chuckled on your left.

You turned around, grasping the gun in your hand, but quickly relaxed when you saw your crime partner, Tangerine, standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, not a drop of blood on his immaculate suit. “Ha ha ha, so funny.” You dead-panned, waving him over. He arched an eye-brow, not moving a single step towards you. You rolled your eyes, hatred for the impossibly attractive man whom you had to deal with on a daily basis filling your chest. “I’m wounded; I can’t walk.”

Tangerine’s face darkened for a second, before he leisurely stepped over towards you, elegantly avoiding the bleeding corpses. You gripped the wall, slowly easing yourself to stand up, wincing in pain. You stretched out your arm, expecting him to loop it around his shoulders and be used as a crutch. Instead, Tangerine crouched down in front of you. “Hop on, luv.”

“Asshole. You’re enjoying this,” you hissed, slowly climbing on his back. You slipped your gun in the holster strapped to your hip. With your now empty hands, you wrapped them around Tangerine’s broad shoulders, trying to ignore his twitching muscles. You gasped as Tangerine straightened, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, hissing as the wound pulsated. Tangerine’s warm hands slipped behind him to hold your thighs and support your weight. You closed your eyes, his warm hands so close to your core sending electric waves down your spine.

To distract yourself, you cleared your throat, starting to speak. “So, how do you manage to never get any blood on your clothes?” You asked, comparing the state of your bloodied clothes to his.

“Because I know how to fight, darling. I thought that you’d start to learn how to do it by observing my perfect technique, but still get hurt every time.” Tangerine mumbled, turning his head to glance at you. You huffed, embarrassed, hiding your face with your hands.

“Shut up. You get hurt too.”

“Not as much as you, princess.”

“Stop it.”

“I’ll teach you. I’m the best fucking l teacher there is out there.”

“Yeah, as if.”

•

A few days later, your wound bandaged and healed, you were standing in the middle of you and Tangerine’s hotel room, the furniture pushed to the side. Tangerine was standing in front of you, jacket laid on his bed, and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. You were directly opposite him, wearing a loose shirt and some leggings, stretching your arms and rolling your shoulders.

“I didn’t think you’d actually teach me how to fight,” you said, running a hand through your hair.

Tangerine looked at you, a small smile peeking under his mustache, holding a toy knife in his hand. “I don’t plan on burying your dead body just fucking yet.”

You chose to ignore the last part, your heart skipping a beat. “Alright, so how are we doing this?” You asked, shifting your weight from foot to foot, unsure.

Tangerine threw the knife in the air, grabbing it without even looking. “Attack me, love.” You didn’t need to be told twice, lunging towards him, your own toy knife in hand. You tried jabbing him in the side, but Tangerine effortlessly dodged it, quickly grabbing your waist and holding you against him, your back flush to his chest, his toy knife now gently pressed against your neck.

You blinked, enveloped by his cologne. “Dead.” His warm voice caressed your ear. You closed your eyes, tempted to wonder in the labyrinth of your fantasy, feeling the outline of his body pressed against you. With difficulty, you pushed yourself away, shattering the dream painting your lashes.

You turned around, frustration boiling under your skin. “Again.” Tangerine ordered, his tone become more serious.

You didn’t attack immediately this time, pausing for a second, before darting towards the right. As soon as you noticed Tangerine sidestepping away from you, you jumped towards him, a glimmer of satisfaction flickering in your heart as you witness his supposed expression. But as soon as the flame of hope breathed to life, it was quickly extinguished when Tangerine spun away from you, stepping behind you.

Tangerine blindly threw his arm around you, once again dragging you against him. “Dead again, love. You’re real shit at this, (Y/N).” His smug voice taunted. You were about to start cursing at him, when you realized Tangerine’s hand was resting against your breast.

Your cheeks flushed red in an instant, the waves of heat shooting down between your legs. Your voice momentarily stopped working, and you had to swallow a few times before you could feel your vocal cords’ tight knot loosen. “Might wanna…um…move your hand, Tangerine.” You croaked.

There was a brief moment of silence before the realization hit the man standing behind you. “Oh, fuck me.” His hand flew away from your tit, smacking against his thigh. You quietly slid away from his arms, the strong urge to rub your thighs together clogging your mind.

Tangerine cleared his throat, a small flush dusting his cheeks. “Alright, we’ve established your absolutely shit at combat. Let me teach you the basics.” You nodded, dazed. “First, the places to stab.” Tangerine gripped his knife. “Of course, you know there’s eyes, heart, stomach, liver, so on. All that basic shit. But now I’m going to teach you a few things. Come here.”

You stepped closer to him, unsure of what he wanted to do. “Okay, let’s pretend a fucker’s chocking you.” As Tangerine spoke, he maneuvered you to stand with your back to him, wrapping an arm around your neck.

“Kinky.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes. “How do you get out?”

“Um…kick in the nuts.”

“Not bad, but most men know that’s their weak spot so they keep their hips away.” Tangerine shook his head. “Try jabbing your elbow repeatedly in their stomach.” You followed his tip, miming the act. Tangerine’s arm slithered away from your neck, pretending to be hurt. “Now, take your knife and stab from downwards to upwards, try to avoid the rib cage, go under it.”

You clasped the knife tighter, once again pretending to do it, visualizing the blood gushing on you, the adrenaline pumping in your veins. Tangerine clapped his hands slowly. “Great! Now you’re a bit better than absolute dog shit at fighting.”

“So now my fighting is at cat shit level?” You joked, tossing your toy knife in the air. Tangerine laughed. The sound was so sincere it knocked the breath out of you. It had been a while since he laughed so genuinely, the pressure of the previous job sucking all the happiness from both you, leaving you grey and unhappy. His happiness radiated from him as if he was the sun god himself, your heart melting, making you drop your knife on the floor.

You scrambled to pick it up, snapping out of your daze. As you kneeled down to grab it, you found yourself to be staring at Tangerine’s crotch. Your mouth dried the moment you noticed a significant bulge hiding behind his dress pants. You quickly stood up, pretending not have seen anything, biting your lip, as everything started becoming more noticeable to your sensitive skin, especially the seam of your leggings pressing against your crotch.

“Now, let’s try something else. What if I pick you up?” Tangerine asked, lunging towards you, wrapping his warm hands around your waist. You snapped out of your lust induced daze, quickly struggling against him, planting both feet on the ground. Tangerine started using more strength, holding you against him to destabilize you. Your ass pressed against his crotch, his bulge becoming even more evident.

Your body soon became warm again, and you could feel the perfect outline of his bulge against the thin fabric of your leggings. A soft, breathy moan ripping out of your lips. Tangerine stopped moving, his arms loosely around your waist. You froze, unsure if Tangerine had heard you. Your senses became aware of everything, mainly focusing on your shallow breath.

Tangerine’s warm hands glided down your waist, gripping your hips. Slowly, unsure, tentative, Tangerine moved his hips against you. You whimpered again. “Oh fuck, (Y/N).” Tangerine groaned. “Tell me stop,” he grunted in your ear.

You shook your head, placing your hands on his, encouraging him. “No…keep going.” You bucked against him, throwing your head back to rest against Tangerine’s broad shoulders.

“Fucking finally.” His words were breathless, his warm hands quickly spinning you around so you were face to face with him. Without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your leg. Tangerine quickly took the hint, holding your thigh, squeezing it, pressing you against himself.

You whimpered, grabbing his loosened tie and yanking him against your lips, a passionate kiss with clashing teeth and dripping saliva. His hands threaded threw your hair. Using him to balance your weight, you started grinding against him, pulling away from the kiss to press your already swollen lips against his shoulder, muting your sounds.

You gasped, feeling Tangerine’s hands hold your waist tightly, lifting you effortlessly in the air, walking briskly to the bed that had been pushed against the wall. He let you drop on it, bouncing on the expensive mattress. You quickly spread your legs, letting him hover above you.

Your eyes locked with Tangerine’s limpid blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, and heat suddenly burst on your cheeks. Tangerine sensed it, smiling warmly at you. “Hey, doll.” He whispered, caressing your cheek. The cold of his many rings clashing against the warmth of your heated cheeks.

“Hey,” you whispered back, suddenly timid, the weight of your near future actions suddenly drenching you in cold, wet panic. Your heart beat so fast, Tangerine could probably hear it. You averted your eyes, afraid of the beauty of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? We can stop at any minute if you don’t feel like it,” Tangerine murmured, massaging your hips to ease the tension.

“No. No I…I don’t want to stop. I’m just…afraid, I guess. I…I don’t want this to just be a meaningless fuck.” You admitted, vocalizing the fears that had nestled deep in your heart in the span of a few seconds.

Tangerine’s face quickly changed, the difference almost as striking as sunrises and sunsets. His eyes rapidly searched for yours, holding your chin in place delicately with his fingers, almost as if he was touching a goddess. “This was never meant to be a meaningless fuck, (Y/N). Yes, I’ve dreamt of fucking you, but those dreams walked hand in hand with wishes of holding you while you slept, hiding you in my arms when life becomes too harsh.” Your eyes filled with tears, a watery smile painted on your trembling lips. “I think, the first moment I saw you, you had already taken control of my heart with a simple giggle.”

Your heart suddenly overloaded with light, the darkness of your fears melting away. You leaned towards him, clasping his lips in a kiss, the mood suddenly changing. Tangerine sighed happily in your mouth, wrapping his arms around your neck and gently laying you down on the mattress.

Your legs spread open, as Tangerine gently accomodate himself in between them, expertly pressing his knee in your crotch. Your arms hugged his shoulders, pushing him an against your heaving chest. Your lips locked together, and you barely registered Tangerine’s long fingers reaching down between your legs and hastily unbuckling his belt. His pants tumbled over the edge of the bed, nestling between the dust bunnies underneath it.

His warm hands returned back to your waist, gripping you as if his life depended on it. His lips slowly slid down to your damp neck, leaving a series of hickeys behind.

“Tan…Tan..” You moaned, trying to buck your hips to hint you wanted your pants off. Your partner, smart as he was, instantly received the message, yanking your thin leggings down your legs. His fingers slipped in your panties, grinning wickedly when he felt how wet you were.

“My god…all of this for me? You spoil me, darlin’.” Your cheeks dusted with embarrassment, but you soon forget your shame, Tangerine’s fingers slowly slipped inside you, making you touch the plains of heaven with the tip of your finger.

Your partner soon managed to find the sweet, spongy spot inside you, making your back arch away from the rumpled sheets and further into his chest. Although the pleasure was incandescent, you couldn’t wait anymore. You gently grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.

Your other hand slid inside his curls, gripping them, and slowly leading Tangerine back against your mouth. Pressed against his lips, you breathlessly pushed out, “Tangerine, I can’t…ngh…I can’t wait any longer. Fuck me. Right now.”

The demand raced straight to his dick, and Tangerine didn’t even have the control to take off his shirt before he slowly slid inside you.

The sensation was indescribable: both of your bodies were drowning in pleasure, stars twinkling in the corners of your vision. Tangerine would never admit it, but he almost blew his load immediately, your pussy becoming his new favorite sin. It took a few beautifully aching moments for his long length to bottom out, but when it did, you swore you could feel his heartbeat where your two chests connected.

“Can…can I move?” Tangerine’s voice was breathy, beautiful, caressing your ears like a loving memory. You nodded, gulping down yet another strangled moan. He bucked his hips experimentally, and both of your bodies curled in pleasure.

Tangerine started moving his hips, picking up pace every minute, and soon, the sound of the trashy soap opera the room next door had been watching was soon drowned by your grunts of pleasure. Your hands gripped Tangerine’s shoulders for dear life, and you thanked that he had kept his shirt on, or else his back would be littered with red, passionate scratches.

“Oh…oh my god, Tan! Right there!” You gasped, right after Tangerine had thrown your left leg over his shoulder, managing to find your sweet spot for the second time that night. You clenched tightly around him, Tangerine throwing his hair back in absolute bliss.

“You’re so…fucking…tight!” He groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust. He suddenly dropped back down, hovering above you, his left hand clutching the headboard while the right was on your hip. You didn’t mind, already feeling your orgasm in the pit of your stomach, like the shoreline receding before an incoming tsunami.

Tangerine pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that could be described as sloppy, passionate, heavy with all the lost kisses you had burned to give one other, and all the sleepless nights you had yearned for each other. His mustache gently scraping your upper lip was the only promise that you hadn’t died and had reached heaven.

You pulled back, noticing the string of saliva connecting your swollen lips. “I— I’m almost there.” You whimpered. To help you reach your climax, Tangerine placed his calloused thumb on your swollen clit. And truthfully, that’s all you needed.

Your orgasm crashed on you, making you almost scream in pleasure, holding Tangerine closely against you, wanting to feel all the whimpers of pleasure that cascaded from your lips. The vice-like grip you had around his cock soon dragged Tangerine over the edge. With one final trust, he emptied himself inside you, instinctively wrapping his arms around you, and crushing you into a hug, where he nuzzled his face in your neck, whispering your name back to you.

You both slowly came down, panting loudly, all your energies spent. As the sweat cooled down on your glowing skin, Tangerine could only caress your back, trying to convey feelings he was too tired to express.

After a few minutes of hugging each other in silence, Tangerine pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling the sudden loss of warmth. Your lover quickly fixed the problem by yanking the covers from underneath you, and covering your naked bodies, before engulfing you in another hug, peppering your face with kisses. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” You admitted quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his earlobe.

Your blissed out state had already taken you by the hand, and was leading you into Morpheus’ arms, but heard Tangerine chuckle quietly: “And to think that none of this wouldn’t have happened if you were not completely horrible at fighting.” You barked out a laugh.

“Hey, now if we train, and you accidentally touch my breast, you won’t have to act all embarrassed,” you murmured sleepily, your words slushing together. Tangerine’s deep, throaty laugh, and his deep, rich scent were the only things you recalled before you slipped into the most peaceful sleep you ever had, excited about the wonderful days that awaited the blossoming of your new relationship.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine smut #bullet train

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tallulah477 · 1 month

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Hey! have u seen the avatar blood moon prompt yet? its sooo good!!

Hi!! I HAVE! This one right?

It’s such a good prompt! I love the idea of the blood moon making the Na’vi go absolutely feral. I’m sure anyone who’s spent even a second on my blog knows how much I love primal play (predator/prey kink) and the idea of them chasing their poor victim through the forest is sending me 😩

CW:// Dark!Na'vi, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Chasing, Blood Play, Painful Transformations, No Smut (shockingly) but definitely ***NON-CON***

Like . . . imagine your Na’vi of choice is reacting to this Blood Moon. You’ve never seen this before, how they look up at the sky in both a mixture of horror and awe, because this is a special moment for them, a pure primal and instinctual state offered to them by The Great Mother where they are made to let go of their inhibitions and just listen and react to the urges inside of them. But it’s like out of a horror movie for you, watching how they go from staring up at the sky with wide amber eyes to falling to the ground, almost writhing in pain as their humanity is ripped from them right before your eyes. Their muscles are bulging, rippling under their skin as they crawl and claw at the ground. Howling cries and guttural growls fill the air as their bodies twist against the soft moss of the ground, and you think you can feel the sound reverberate through your entire body. Their fingernails lengthen, sharpening into deadly points, canines growing to the point that they dig into their bottom lip, drawing blood if they're not careful. They're not.

Their eyes are red when they snap their head back towards you, the now crimson irises seeming to bleed into a scarlet haze amongst the whites of their eyes.

Run, little prey. Those eyes tell you. Run, and run fast - because the sadistic look in their eyes tells you they want to eat you alive.

You can't run fast enough, sprinting and crying in panic through the Pandoran forest as you hear whatever thing that's overtaken your Na'vi's body come after you. They're growling - snarling as they chase you, dark aborted laughter cutting through the trees as you flee. The forest offers no comfort - the usual bright bioluminescence and glowing pinks, purples, and blues that usually light up the forest at night are now covered in the deep red glow of the moon.

They've left their bow discarded on the forest floor, their hunting knife having fallen off their body in their furious thrashing during their painful transformation. They don't need it to hunt you now - every primal instinct they have is locked on you.

They catch you in less than a minute, tackling you to the forest floor and pinning you on your back. Your arms come up to keep them back, desperately trying to keep them away, but they grab your flailing arm, holding it still in a tight grip by your wrist and slowly drag their razor sharp nail down the length of your forearm.

Your screams are like music to them in this state, your pitiful sobs as they lean down and catch your dripping blood on their tongue is like a shot of ecstasy straight into their veins as they lick possessively up your arm, making sure not to waste a single drop. Their nails find their way to your collarbone, tongue dragging along the pooling red, moaning at the sweet taste of it on their tastebuds.

There's blood dripping down their chin from their mouth, and it's impossible to tell if it's coming from the twin puncture marks in their lip or if its your own. It doesn't matter, they make you taste it anyway - their hand gripping your chin as they roughly press their lips to yours, smearing the shared blood along your lips and tongue.

Long scratches mark up your body - torso, chest, and arms smeared with blood and their bloody kisses as they work their way lower and lower and lower.

Your heart rate is still through the roof, pounding in your chest so hard you think it might burst out, but your screaming has stopped, replaced instead by full bodied sobs as they nip possessive kisses on your hip.

Their crimson eyes stare up at you, somehow both glaring and full of mirth as they grin and bite at the flesh on your hip, their nails savagely digging into your sides to keep you pinned. Those eyes stare into your soul, telling you that they own you now - and the red haze of the Blood Moon above mocks your fate.

ANYWAY~~ LMAO. I didn't mean to write a whole drabble about it. The way I could have kept going is insane. I hope you like my little thought process here tho . . . maybe . . .

What are your thoughts on the prompt, Anon? I'd love to hear them! 🧡

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒔 ♡#𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 ❃°•°#𝑰𝒏𝒃𝒐𝒙 ⤷✉

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quartz-crow · 3 months

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Bleeding Heart Pt. 1 - (Astarion x Reader)

Reader x Astarion fic - hints of Halsin too! Please let me know what you think! I'll try to update as often as possible.

Read part two here ⚔️

Chapter 1

“Tav, look where the fuck you’re going?!”.

Your eyes widened as you felt each muscle in your body abruptly seize. With each heartbeat, you felt your limbs tighten - restraining you. Your feet hung lifelessly beneath your body as you felt yourself rise above the ground. Your vision grew hazy, shattered and shimmering with auras. Sharp pulses, like lightning bolts, echoed within your skull as something explored every thought… every face… every emotion you’d ever witnessed.

“What the fuck?!” Karlach thundered. Flames licked her body as the she-tiefling smashed her hammer down onto a ghoul’s gnarled head. The creature yelped as it clattered to the floor with a bloody squelch. “What’s wrong with her?!”. Astarion’s eyes darted across at you. He grimaced and closed his eyes for a split second. “Shit”. The highelf plunged a blade into the chest of the ghoul that stood before him. Black blood splattered across his translucent skin, but he barely noticed. With a soft growl, Astarion gritted his teeth as he forcefully kicked the ghoul back. The undead crashed back on the floor, writhing pathetically as it attempted to stand again. However, before it even had the chance, a large bear club flattened it roughly. Halsin’s large dark eyes stared into Astarion’s own, and although he never spoke in this form - the vampire spawn knew exactly what that look meant. Go to her.

Astarion rushed across the uneven ground, dodging swings from his allies and foes alike as he made his way across to you. Panting beneath your feet, Astarion glared up at you as sweat and blood dripped down his pale face. “Snap out of it” he hissed. He stared at you, but it was obvious that you couldn’t hear him. Your eyelids flickered as the whites of your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. Astarion felt like screaming. He had seen you overcome to whatever was going on in your head before, but not like this… You had never been so… lifeless before. Behind you, a dark lumbering body slowly emerged from the shadows and Astarion’s heart froze. “Fuck”. Without hesitation, he lept across as it - fangs bared like a mountain lion. Upon impact, both the spawn and the creature clattered to the floor and began to tussle in the grass. With an unkempt rage that Astarion preferred to hide, he plunged his face into the creature’s chest. The creature screamed as he ripped out its unbeating heart. He felt blood pool down his chest before he spat out the heart with a loud gag. Astarion felt like throwing up. But instead, he bit back the vile that was rising in his stomach and lifted his head to stare up at you. “LISTEN TO ME” he snarled, his voice pitching in alarm.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” Karlach shouted as she continued to bat away enemies that were beginning to surround your party. As far as the eye could see, shadows swirled around you all - melting into the night… creating an endless sea of darkness. “How should I know?” Astarion hissed back. Halsin-bear snorted as a mob of undeads began clambering over his body, slowly pinning him to the ground.

Despite Astarion’s pleas, you were far away from your allies…and even your own body, for you were currently on another plane of existence entirely.

Purple haze washed around you as your dream visitor walked out from the darkness. You recognised his face, the wide set jaw and dark hair which was loosely pulled into a braid at the nape of his neck. The tall human smiled as he knelt in front of you. He offered you a hand, which you hesitantly took. “Othim.. Where -“. Othim lifted his hand to silence you. The tentative smile left his lips as he shook his head. “You’re safe, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have left your body in a vulnerable position”. You frowned as you took in your surroundings. It was as if you were in the night sky itself… You observed the stars and smoky clouds that surrounded you. In slight amazement, you turned back to face your dream visitor. You watched as the human slowly made his way to the edge of the cliff on which you both stood. He had his back to you as he seemed to peer down at the ground below. “I’m not asleep, am I?’ you asked cautiously. Othim turned back to face you. He seemed amused by your question, or perhaps he simply found you amusing. “Not quite” he replied. “However, this couldn’t wait until you were asleep I’m afraid…”.

“What? What is it?”, You quickly stepped forward, “Have you found a cure?”. The human frowned, his face grew shadowy as he sighed. You winced as you felt your heart sink in your chest. Every life your blade had taken was in the hope that Othim could free you. You had pinned every hope on the belief that your dream visitor would find a cure for the tadpole in your head. Without one? Well, you were good as dead. “Gods please tell me some good news Othim, please”. Othim clenched his jaw and looked away from you once more. “I’m afraid that there’s… something in the way between you and… a cure.”.

You felt awfully cold in the moment, and yet, blood raced to your face. “What? What is it?” you pleaded. Without a single word, Othim turned to stare back down over the cliff edge. “I’m sorry” he murmured. You felt so cold. So awfully cold. And yet, you slowly made your way to stand beside your dream visitor - for you knew he wanted you to see whatever it was that he was staring at.

As soon as you stood beside the human, you wished you never had. You felt like throwing up as you stared at the scene below your feet. Blood… body parts… bodies… and fire. A pile of bodies were scattered across the campsite - each nursing various kinds of horrific wounds, the like of which made your stomach churn. And there, amongst the chaos and the destruction stood a man you knew all too well. As pale as moonlight itself, stood Astarion breathing heavily in blood-soaked clothes. His piercing eyes stared coldly back up at you. His crimson irises were devoid of any warmth you associated with your companion. Worst of all… There in his hand, hung your lifeless decapitated head.

You fell to the floor as you covered your mouth. You clenched your eyes shut as they began to well with tears. Your body shook violently as it tried to eject the sight of what you had just witnessed. Between dry heaves, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. “I’m sorry” Othim murmured. Sobs fell from between your lips. Astarion.. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He’d never hurt your friends - and he’d never hurt you.. he was ever so gentle with you. He always was... “I’m sorry… All of this will be for nought with the spawn amongst your ranks”. You wiped your face and shakily stood up, careful not to accidentally look over the cliff edge again. “What… what was-?”. “You don’t have to speak” Othim whispered softly. His dark eyes looked over you fondly, but you couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. You knew it was pointless to try and voice your thoughts - Othim could read your mind either way.

You couldn’t understand. Othim sighed and nodded knowingly. The human stared blankly at you as he replayed your memories in his own head. He watched how you and the vampire-spawn had touched each other - and he tried not to recoil in disgust. He clenched his jaw as he cast that memory away and out into the night sky. “I know how he manipulated you. I’m afraid that’s what his kind do. For he’s a monster after all-”.

“No”.

Othim turned to face you in surprise. You glared at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. You panted deeply as you balled your hands into fists. Try as you might have, you were trying to keep your composure under check - but of course, Othim saw right through it. “No?” he repeated, tilting his head to the side. “May I remind you what’s waiting for you on the other side?” he asked, gesturing down to the scene below. You shook your head. Visions of Astarion’s cold eyes, your dead friends and your own lifeless body flashed across your mind. “Please.. don’t” you mustered in a whimper. “…I know how you feel about him” Othim confessed as he walked towards you. He softly took your hand and ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I can see it in your mind… It’s clear as sunlight on the sea itself - but sweet child, I wouldn’t show you this if it weren’t a future truth”. You stared blankly at the amulet that hung around Othim’s neck. It was a glass locket with a gold frame, and inside the locket, appeared to be some kind of liquid - it glinted in the dark m each time Othim drew a breath. “What… should I do?”. “Hm..” Othim hummed softly as he let go of your shoulder. “A kind man would abandon the spawn… a kinder man would put him out of his misery. It’s up to you what kind of man you wish to be”. “…And if I can’t?”.

Othim stepped back into the clouds as they began to swirl around you both. His eyes switched from brown to gold as he began to disappear once more into your mind. “If not, then you will have signed your death warrant … and the deaths of your allies with Myrkul himself. Choose wisely my friend. I know you will make the right choice”.

Electric bolts shot throughout your veins, electrifying each nerve painfully as you began to reenter your body back on the physical plane. For a brief moment, your eyes regained focus… for a brief moment, you thought you saw Astarion’s face staring up at you. But perhaps not, for the next thing you knew was that your body had plummeted to the ground with a dull thud.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fanfiction #x reader #fem reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x reader

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sanjipotatoes · 5 months

Text

RIPPED HEARTS

A/N: this idea and concept is @moonnime's :D

also this consists a somewhat love triangle, implied sex,mentions of pregnancy, mentions of murderand mentions of abandonment and it doesn't have such a happy ending so if you don't like any of these just like skip this

pink = doffy

red = rosinante/corazon

blue = law

purple = reader

you were 8 years old when you met the Donquixote brothers.your father was a friend to their father and since you were mainly lonely at home your father took you with him to visit the Donquixote so you can play with the two boys and well you guys did get along but doflamingo loved you the most whenever you played hide and seek he would jump and hug you whenever and wherever he found you but an issue he had was that rosinante was always "in his way" and out of jealousy he did anything to try to impress and take your attention example you would be playing dolls with rosinante and doflamingo would catch your attention by doing something like "hey *reader* look what I can do!! :D" he attempted to do a cartwheel but since he was 8 and lacked balance his short little arms failed him and he fell on his face miserably you then got worried but he insisted he was okay and yet you still clapped and was impressed by him not because the cartwheel was good but because he had confidence and you liked that shortly after rosinante being the simple minded 6 year

old he wanted to try doing a cartwheel you thought it was a bad idea but Doffy let him do it to see him fall and assume that he will see your laughter "okay here we :)" rosinante says before attempting to cartwheel but instead falls down on the hard floor face first and when he sat up he started crying and you see his nose bleeding as doflamingo laughed "Doffy how could you laugh like that he's really hurt!!" you say upset at his rude gesture as you run to help rosinante .a little while after his mother treated his nose and gave him a bandage he came to you with a hibiscus flower he found "look *reader* I found this flower and im gonna give it to you because I love you :D" you accepted the flower and blushed "aww I love you too rosi!!"you said while doflamingo just watched in a huff

17 years have passed and you were 25 you had grown up old with the brothers and you married rosinante and you both would think Doffy would be happy for his brother and move on but no he was jealous he always found a way to try to separate you two and third wheel things you did together like example you would be on a bench sitting with rosinante and doflamingo would just randomly comes and shove rosinante to scoot to sit between you two and put an arm around you and talked while ignoring rosinante. a little while after you met law you treated him such like a son and rosinante noticed and asked if you wanted to have kids together "hey since you are good with kids I was wondering...would you like maybe..try having one of our own don't get me wrong I love law and all but maybe you would be happier with a child of our own" he said to you with a awkward smile and that day you left law with some snacks and toys to play with while you and rosinante went to a room somewhere and told law that if he needed anything just knock on the door five times.outside that room as hes playing with the stuffed polar bear and panda making them fight he hears noises coming from that room and he wondered

what was happening but decided to stay curious(even after years he still doesn't know what the hell happened in that room).then came another three years you were now 28 rosinante and law disappeared they said something about doflamingo but you didn't pay attention and after you realized they left you felt bad for not paying attention but you had hope they would come back so you could apologize and after months of waiting you go outside and in a distant you see a silhouette of a man with a large coat you stand up and assume its rosinante but the closer it got you saw it was doflamingo "Doffy oh whats a surprise :D umm what are you doing here exactly? I thought you would be with roro do you perhaps know where he is at" he opens his mouth "well he's.." he pauses then thinks about what he says next "he left." your eyes shot wide open in shock "what do you mean he left.." doflamingo looks down looking "upset" "he sended me over here to tell you that..he lost interest in you he found someone else and figured that they would make law happier than you would so he left" you froze and looked down as you cried you ran to doflamigo and snuggled in his coat for comfort as you cried your eyes out and while you couldn't see doflamingo couldn't help but grin,he finally won after 18 years of losing he won in the very end

during the years of your heart break doflamingo managed to grab the pieces all together and fix it he took care of you and did nothing but loving things to you so obviously eventually you falled for him and you then start reflecting on the past on how you felt bad for 18 years on how much you underestimated doflamingo I mean he did love you more than rosinante did and you then start believing that it was all a con rosinante never loved you at all and it was always doflamingo he truly was the one that loved you

after 20 years you are now 38 you married doflamingo and Became his queen to lead Dressrosa and the citizen were shocked to find out that YOU were his queen they expected you to be the Harley Quinn to his joker but..you were kind, you cared about your citizens and there was no mischief in you unlike doflamingo which you had no idea about his behavior because well he would play nice whenever you were around so whenever you were art with doflamingo you would always sensed fear in the citizen and always wondered why.after two months you started to feel nauseous and super sick and doflamingo in a panic called the best doctor there could be In Dressrosa to see whats wrong and cure me as fast as possible no matter the consequence and after a few test from the doctor he told you and doflamingo that you were with child and this got you happy

you always dreamed of having a child especially with the one you love but..something felt off despite you feeling excited having a child there was something empty but you decided to brush it off in 4 months you were now 6 months pregnant you grew a belly and doflamingo became more protective of you since he certainly didn't want anything happening to the future leader of Dressrosa and one day when finally agrees to let you out on your own a certain little pirate with a straw hat comes to Dressrosa along with a familiar person which you were in a bench just killing time till you felt a tap on your shoulder you look up and see a man with tattooed hands,earings

and a spotted hat and your eyes widened before he spoke "hello miss *reader*" you rub your eyes in shock thinking your hallucinating "I-i who are you and how do you know me" the man looked a bit sad and then says "miss *reader* its me law I know you don't recognize me from the tats and how much Ive grown but I obviously could recognize you you still look the same as ever even after 10 years I guess the saying "real queens never age" is true after all" you give him a gentle hug which makes him notice your belly "hey your pregnant now,who did you remarry?"he said out of curiosity as you giggled "only the nicest man I've ever known...doffy!! :D" you say out of joy as trafalgars eyes widen out of shock and he backs up and

looks real upset "WHAT!! THAT MONSTER!!"when he said that you got completely offend before he continued "YOU HAD THE AUDACITY TO MARRIED AND EVEN OPEN YOUR LEGS TO THAT COLD BLACK HEARTED-" you slapped law across the face and he holds it out of pain as you yelled "OH AND WOULDN'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MONSTERS AS YOU WERE RAISED BY ONE!" law looked confused "I don't know what you mean *reader*.." you yelled back "DON'T PLAY DUMB OR INNOCENT YOU KNOW HOW YOUR PRECIOUS "CORA-SAN" TOOK YOU AND LEFT ME BEHIND FOR ANOTHER WOMAN SINCE HE WAS TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO SIMPLY TELL ME HE FELL OUT OF LOVE AND JUST THOUGHT ABANDONING ME WOULD BE THE SOLUTION" Law now understanding your point of view of things

"no miss *reader* your wrong its all wrong he didn't leave he died! your precious beloved husband killed him" you got taken a back and shook your head "no...thats not true" trafalgar looked at you "he died freeing me...so he didn't leave you he loved you so much after we left he would go none stop talking about how much he misses you so who even told you about that lie and how could you ever believe it" you looked down "it was..doffy I believed him because I figured since hes his brother he knew him better than I ever did..." you say ashamed as law nods in understand "well another thing about doflamingo was that his mindset about you is that if he can't have you then nobody else can until he gets you so he lied to you ever since"

you start sniffling and crying as law looks down on you "its not too late you know.." you shake your head "no...it is too late...I can't have my child without their father even if he is doflamingo" law just blinked before you said "I'll try my best to help you with whatever your doing but im sorry I cannot leave him either I hope you understand" law just opens his mouth about to protest but he held it back understanding your situation and walks away as you now know the truth and how you made a decision and now suffering consequence..so your trapped now having to raise a child with doflamingo

alternate ending:you end up committing suicide 1 week after giving birth to the baby you were planning on doing it months before but you figured that if your going down the hole you shouldn't drag the child along with you so you just left the child for doflamingo to raise on his own selfish yes but you didn't know what else to do surely you couldn't give it to law since you didn't wanna put an extra weight of responsibility on his shoulders so that was your only option and as your suicide note just tells doflamingo on how you now know the truth and describing how much you despise him now for taking your TRUE soulmate away from the world and from you and before you shot yourself your last words were "see you soon rosi." and then bang

doflamingo's,the Donquixote Pirates and Dressrosa citizens reaction to when you agreed to be his lover after 18 god forsaken years for him:

once again credit for idea is @moonnime

#rosinante x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #one piece #one piece fic #one piece angst

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

Hold Me; Heal Me

set in the Silk Touches and Mended Hearts universe

genres: soulmate au, vigilante au, angst, ambiguous ending pairing: reader x woozi words: 1.7k warnings: blood, description of injury on reader character (bullet wound), mentions of drug use and overdose (not by main characters) notes: this is a recast of a fic and universe I made almost two years ago now... I really like this universe and have some ideas for other characters/stories, so I would love to see if people are interested :] (also I had to make this jihoon I mean shit this is red too?? it just fit so perfectly)

part two: Find Me; Fear Me

In a world where a soulmate’s touch can heal any wound, you would think you’d have no worries. But after your soulmate told you he didn’t want to be exactly that, you set your heart aside. It shouldn’t matter anyways, you reasoned. What need does a vigilante have of soulmates?

You don’t know why you’re on Jihoon’s second-floor balcony. You don’t even know why you bothered remembering which one is his, considering you’ve never been in his apartment before.

It feels like an invasion of privacy, but fuck, you just can’t focus on that right now, not with the burning pain rippling from your shoulder. Impossibly, the bullet still feels like it’s blazing hot where it was sunken into your flesh -- even though you dug it out on the way -- and you flex your jaw in an attempt not to scream. Now is not the time to draw any unwanted attention.

Your left arm is starting to lose feeling, and your head swims from the blood loss. Just as you’re climbing over the balcony rail from the condemned fire escape, your elbow buckles. You fall to the floor with a yelp, pain shooting through your shoulder even though you did your best not to land on it. The black mask on the lower half of your face starts to slip.

You try your hardest not to cry.

The lights inside flick on, and you finally realize how bad of an idea this is.

You haven’t seen Jihoon since over six months ago, when he told you he didn’t want to be anyone’s soulmate.

He’d used the word “anyone”, but it could only apply to you.

Another bout of pain runs through you as you lay there on his balcony. You grit your teeth, and even though your ears are ringing like mad, you can hear footsteps from inside.

He rushes up to the sliding door, visible through the glass even though your vision is starting to cloud with dark grey blotches. His eyes widen, and he opens the door with haste.

“What--”

“Jihoon.”

He’s crouched over you now, but when you say his name, he stops staring at your bleeding shoulder and infamous red leather jacket and instead meets your eyes.

“How do you know my name?”

“I think it’s only fair.” You reach your right arm up, grabbing your mask and slipping it off your face. “Since you know my name.”

Jihoon gasps, though the sound is quiet compared to everything else. “You’re Red?” he whispers.

Your vigilante alias sounds all too real on his tongue.

“No.” Gritting your teeth, you take a second to squeeze your eyes shut and pry them open again with a gasping breath. You can’t collapse now; you’ve already gotten this far. “I just work at Target.”

He doesn’t so much as let out a puff of air through his nose at your attempted humour, instead bringing his hands up and hovering them over you like he has no idea what to do with them. You don’t blame him.

“Jihoon... I need you to help me.”

He frowns, brows furrowing as he stares intently at your shoulder. You know it looks bad.

“How?”

“Just--” You rip off the glove on your left hand and weakly hold it a few centimetres off the floor. “--hold my hand. Please.”

He wastes no time in waiting, and as soon as you feel his skin touch yours, the flow of the soulmate connection washes over you. The pain doesn’t go away, not exactly, but suddenly you can breathe normally, and your shoulder feels lighter, somehow.

They say a soulmate’s healing touch can’t be described -- that you can’t know what it feels like until you’ve felt it yourself. As much as people have tried in books and movies and poetry, you think what they say is right.

It’s indescribable.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them again, you see Jihoon still next to you, your hand in both of his, pressed against his forehead. Though his hands are blocking his face, the light sniffling you can hear gives him away.

“What are you crying for?”

Quickly, he wipes at his eyes with one hand while still holding on to you with the other. “I’m not crying.”

“Okay.” You give him a soft smile, still not strong enough to do much else to show your thanks. “Can you take me inside?”

Jihoon frowns again. “You’re not... Your shoulder, it hasn’t--”

“I know.”

“You’ve just barely stopped bleeding,” he continues. “You’re not fully healed yet.”

Groaning, you try to sit yourself up, and he looks at you like you’re crazy. You kind of are.

“I know, Jihoon, but I think it’s best to do the rest inside. I don’t want people seeing me here and accusing you of helping Red.”

“But I am helping you.”

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. “They don’t need to know that. Now help me up, please.”

Jihoon wants to settle you down on his couch, but you don’t let him since you know how awful it is getting blood out of fabric. You make him take you to the small kitchen area instead, leaning against the counter while he struggles to get you a glass of water with one hand. He doesn’t notice you struggling to hop up on the counter, and by the time he makes a stuttered protest, you’re already sitting on top, your head resting lightly on one of the kitchen cabinets.

The soulmate connection is making you a bit lightheaded -- or maybe that’s still the blood loss.

“Don’t do stuff like that while you’re still injured,” he says as he hands you the glass of water.

“Thanks.” You don’t address his nagging, preferring to chug down the water instead.

Jihoon watches you, concern written all over his face. His hand tightens ever so slightly around yours, and you try not to focus on the way his thumb rubs over the back of your hand.

“You look like you have questions.”

Before you’d flopped onto his balcony, you’d prepared yourself for an interrogation, but with the way he’s looking at you, this isn’t going to be one.

He speaks softly, like talking too loud will break you. “What... happened?”

“Drug bust.” You take another sip of water, and Jihoon seems to bristle at your casual air. “Normally I leave dealers alone, but...”

“But?”

You put the glass down, suddenly not wanting to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

There are only two people in your life who know about your alternate identity. Three now, you suppose. Your best friend has known since the beginning, though, and his doctor friend he roped into this mess -- who's conveniently out of town for the week -- politely asked you to keep any and all details regarding your vigilante work from him. Plausible deniability and all that.

So it's not often you talk about the world's injustices with someone who doesn't really... know you.

Your soulmate has no idea who you are.

“This guy,” you say. Errant thoughts are useless, so you simply continue. “He deals to kids -- targets them, specifically. And he laces his shit so they keep coming back for more until--”

Jihoon steps closer when your breath hitches.

“...A kid OD’ed yesterday. She’s in the hospital now, and she’s going to be okay, but...” You bring a hand up to your face, digging your finger into the corner of your eye. Oh, so now you’re going to cry, huh? “I couldn’t let this guy keep hurting kids like that. I had to take it into my own hands.”

“You got shot.”

A snort escapes you, and you gasp a bit in pain when your shoulder protests the sudden movement. Jihoon’s healing touch works quickly, but apparently not quick enough.

“I know I got shot,” you say with a smile. “It’s a part of the process.”

Jihoon doesn’t seem to like that. “You should have been more careful.”

“I was careful. Believe me, it could’ve gone a lot worse.” You try to laugh it off, but he isn’t amused. “Besides, the fact that I got shot and had to high-tail it out of there means that asshole is still on the streets. I need to find him again.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jihoon just looks at you. It’s almost uncomfortable under his gaze, but you don’t break the eye contact, too scared of what will happen if you look away.

This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him.

You only wish it was under better circumstances.

“Well.” You slide off the countertop, pulling your hand out of his grip. He’s too surprised by the sudden change in pace that he barely even reacts. “Thanks for your help, Jihoon. Seriously.”

“I-- you’re not--” he stumbles over his words again, but his intention is clear.

Already partway to the balcony door, you turn around to face him again.

“I’m fine,” you insist, rotating your shoulder to show him. Still, the movement makes you wince, and you can tell Jihoon sees through your bullshit.

“You’re not fine.”

“Even so.” You take hold of the mask still hanging around your neck and bring it back over your face. Hooking the straps behind your ears, you try to give him a look that says goodbye. “I have to get going.”

“Are you going after him again?” Jihoon asks, voice harder than before. “That drug dealer?”

You sigh, one hand on the balcony door. “Someone has to.”

“Don’t. You’ll get hurt again.”

Looking at him again, you narrow your eyes. His hands are wringing together, but the glint in his eye is sharp.

“And what, Jihoon? Let him keep peddling drugs to teenagers? Wait until another one overdoses? I don’t have a choice--”

“What if it’s worse next time? What if I can’t help you?” He steps closer.

You snap. “I don’t want your help.”

“Why not?”

He’s up close now, barely a foot between the two of you as you try not to lean your weight on the sliding door. You’re less healed than you thought, but you can’t let it show.

“No offense, Jihoon,” you say with a scoff, “but I don’t really feel like spending time with a soulmate who doesn’t want me.”

He blinks, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out. You take that moment to slide open the door behind you and slip out, hopping over the railing and bracing yourself over the edge.

You look back up at him where he hasn’t moved from the doorway. He’s still staring at you.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” you say.

And with that, you disappear into the night.

part two: Find Me; Fear Me

#woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon scenarios #lee jihoon imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #.100

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sephirthoughts · 11 days

Text

Child of Chaos

Vincent Valentine is awakened by Sephiroth, instead of Cloud's party. He quietly saves the world, by defeating Sephiroth an entirely different way, before the big fight ever begins.

******TRIGGER WARNINGS: INCEST, NONCON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (not the main couple)********

******DEAD DOVE IS SERIOUS DON'T READ IT IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT*******

“These are innocent civilians.”

“There are no innocents, here. They are all complicit.”

“Sephiroth—”

“You said you wanted to help me, Vincent. These are my enemies.”

You said you wanted to help me. You wanted to help me. Help me.

The man’s face and voice warped into hers, making his head erupt with painful, disorienting static, disjointed images of faces and conversations, shattering reality like a mirror.

Help me. Enemies. My enemies. Vincent. Help me.

It took less than an hour to turn the entire town into a hellscape of fire and blood. At the reactor, a village man confronted them. He was cut down before he spoke a full sentence. Impaled on Masamune, and left to bleed out, on the concrete floor.

The man’s daughter chased after them, dragging the sword with her. Before she got anywhere near Sephiroth, the cannon thunder report of the Cerberus triple-shot rent the air.

Her chest exploded, into a gory mass of crimson and exposed, white bone. She was dead before she hit the ground. Another sin to add to the tally.

Vincent stepped over her body as he holstered the weapon, and crossed his arms on his chest, under his cloak. His hands never shook where Sephiroth could see.

A young SOLDIER under Sephiroth’s command, and a golden-haired teenaged recruit from the village, attempted to stop them, on the way out. Sephiroth quickly dealt with the SOLDIER, while the teenaged boy wept over the corpse of the girl.

“Leave him,” Sephiroth smiled, when Vincent leveled his barrel at the blonde head. “It’s not time for him to die, quite yet.”

This was the way they were. Sephiroth leading and Vincent following silently behind. Unquestioning. Unconditional. Just as he had done, since the day the coffin opened, and he saw that face looking down at him.

Her face, but not quite. Too beautiful. Too idealized. Like a fanciful rendering of familiar features, by an artist. That face smiled—her same knowing little half-smile—as the strong hand reached out and pulled him up from the darkness, out of the nightmare.

Since that day, this man had held the first and last place in his heart. This was his atonement. To serve the child, having so utterly failed the mother. To follow him into the river of blood, into the mouth of madness, into the flames of hell, forsaking all others, even to the end of the world.

This…this was love. Wasn’t it? Abject devotion, unswerving loyalty, abandonment of free will—to raze your soul to the ground, rip out the core of self, and fill every fiber of your being with the object of your worship.

“How old were you, when he killed you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“I guess that makes me your elder,” Sephiroth chuckled.

Vincent didn’t understand the joke, but it was true enough. It wasn’t like he’d been aging or accumulating life experience. Vincent Valentine died thirty years ago. This body was forged from Chaos, immortal and nearly indestructible. A beautiful shell full of demonic poison. The perfect vessel for Sephiroth’s deranged design.

“There is no one I can trust, but you, Vincent,” he said, one day. “No one who knows me. No one who understands me. No one who has suffered like I have.”

They fell into bed together, as naturally as any lovers. It began subtly and progressed gradually. Touches that lingered too long. Intense, exclusionary eye contact. The growing disregard for the other’s personal space. When the final boundary was breached, Sephiroth led and Vincent followed, unquestioning, as always.

Deep-green eyes looked down into his, as silver hair fell like a curtain around his face. “You are the only one who belongs to me. The only one I love.”

That lofty, feline demeanor vanished when they fucked. Sephiroth was wild, ravenous, almost desperate. Rolling over him like a tidal wave. Devouring his body like fire. Like he would consume him and integrate every molecule of him fully into himself.

Sephiroth’s affection was a force of nature, that would have annihilated anything else it touched, but Vincent could withstand it. This was love.

They had been lovers for half a year, when Sephiroth finally struck, with the poisoned blade he’d been concealing in his embrace, all this time.

He had stripped Vincent and bent him over a heavy, stainless-steel table. Lifting one of his knees onto the table, to put him in an extremely submissive position, he rocked into him with maddening deliberateness, sliding almost all the way out, before plunging ever so slowly in again.

Only when Vincent was writhing beneath him, arching his back and begging, did Sephiroth speed his pace, finally giving him enough depth and friction. Vincent came with a strangled moan, spurting sloppy, milk-white spatters all over the glossy steel.

Just at that critical moment, Sephiroth leaned down over him, and a big, leather-gloved hand grabbed him by his jaw, forcing him to look up. A few meters in front of them, in the dark, a screen flickered on, displaying a page of lab notes, two photographs, and three genetic profiles.

“How does it feel, father,” Sephiroth purred, his breath hot and wet on his ear. “To have your son inside you?”

Vincent broke, under the weight of the sudden, devastating blow, but he was pinned to a steel table, by Sephiroth’s huge, superhuman body, and Sephiroth was still fucking him.

“It…hurts,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, against the wave of nausea, the roaring chaos, beating against his skull, straining to burst its bonds.

“All this time—pretending you didn’t know,” Sephiroth taunted, punctuating his phrases with deep, vicious thrusts. “But you had an excuse. An airtight—justification. She told you I was his, after all. But you never believed it. You knew I was yours.”

Vincent’s ragged breath fogged the shiny steel under his face. “I didn’t. I didn’t know.”

“You did! How could you not!” Sephiroth growled.

“I n—never touched her. How could I know? Even if I had. He k—he killed me. Turned me into this thing. What could I do?”

“Shut your lying mouth!” Sephiroth grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head on the table, so hard he saw stars. His voice had lost its silky, mocking drawl and turned into a snarl of uncontrolled rage. “You knew about me! You knew what they were using your own child for! And you chose to hide yourself away in the dark! To sleep through it all! You coward! You worthless wretch!”

“I never knew. Never wanted any of this,” Vincent pleaded. “I loved her. I love y—”

A gloved hand clamped tightly over his mouth and that smoky voice dropped back into its taunting register.

“Hush now. I’m not a child, anymore. I don’t need your lies, nor do I want your love.” Sephiroth slid his hands down onto Vincent’s narrow waist, rocking his hips slowly, in a lascivious mockery of tenderness, that was more unbearable than straightforward brutality. “All I want is to have you just the way you are. Helpless, beneath me. Humiliated and suffering, begging for mercy. You can give me that, at least, can’t you father?”

“N—no.”

Sephiroth yanked his head back again, to look into his face. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” Vincent rasped. “I won’t—I won’t beg for mercy.”

The catlike pupil slits narrowed, and he bared his teeth in a malevolent smile. “You think I can’t make you, even with your demonic strength?”

“You can’t,” Vincent doggedly persisted. “I won’t beg for mercy. I don’t want it. This is what I deserve. I love you. I’m so—”

“No! Stop saying it!” Sephiroth roared, slamming his head onto the table again, and again.

“I’m s—sorry,” Vincent choked out, crimson droplets spattering the steel. “Do anything you want to me. I’ll love you, no matter what.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!!”

Sephiroth flipped him roughly onto his back and wrapped his gloved hands around his neck, strangling him with force enough to snap steel girders.

Tears trickled down Vincent’s temples. His scarlet eyes rolled back in his head, but he kept mouthing out the words, as blood streamed from his nose and gurgled up between his lips.

Sephiroth gave a roar of incomprehensible rage and pain, like a wounded beast, then suddenly he was clinging to him, pushing himself inside, kissing him frantically, as his hot tears splashed onto Vincent’s cheeks.

Vincent’s chest split with agony; with grief and love and sorrow and longing…a hurricane of emotions, too tempestuous to comprehend.

He had a son. Someone of his own. Someone who belonged to him.

His son was in pain, suffering even more than he was.

His son was a violent megalomaniac, bent on destroying the world.

His son was fucking him, kissing him with a mouth full of blood, weeping on his face.

He did the only thing he could. He threw his arms around him and kissed him back, with everything he had.

“Give it all to me,” he breathed, between urgent kisses. “All your pain, all your rage, all your hatred—I’ll take it all. Give it to me and let me carry it for you. Let me love you.”

Sephiroth gave a shuddering cry and came, plunging wildly into him, while his big, thick cock pulsed and spurted, flooding his insides with slippery-hot seed. He thrust through the spasms, like he was trying to fuck every last drop into him, then he collapsed on top of his body, buried his face in the crook of his neck, and wept silently.

His black wing was extended, hanging limply to the side. Vincent stroked the silky feathers with his fingertips, pressing his cold lips to a warm, sweat-damp forehead. Their long hair, ink-black and brilliant silver, lay tumbled about and mingled together on the table, a half-angelic, half-demonic halo, around their heads.

“How can you claim to love me,” Sephiroth said, after a long while.

“Because it’s true. I do love you,” Vincent replied, wearily.

“You can’t. Not the way that I mean.”

“I love you any and every way that there is. You are part of me and you are everything to me. If you burned the world to ashes tomorrow, or if you turned from that path and slept in the earth with me, forever, I would love you the same.”

“I knew I was your son. When I woke you, in your coffin, I already knew.”

“I know.”

“I raped you.”

“I was willing.”

“I beat you.”

“I was just as willing. Sephiroth.” He put both hands on that perfect face. A face so like his own, that it seemed only a willful act of self-delusion could ever have made him believe this man wasn’t his son. “Fuck me, beat me, torture and dismember me, if you wish. Whatever you desire, I am willing. Anything.”

Silver brows lowered, and deep-green eyes turned away. “Nonsense. No one truly means it, when they say such dramatic things.”

“If you believe that, then…maybe it’s you who doesn’t mean it.”

“You do not love me, father,” Sephiroth spat, pushing himself up abruptly. “No one loves me. In case you’ve failed to pay attention, in these past months, I am a monster.”

Vincent sat up with him. “The monsters are not us, but the ones who did this to us. The ones who made us into these things, against our will. The ones who called you a hero, until you disobeyed.”

“It doesn’t matter what I do,” Sephiroth sneered. “Even if I had been a good dog all my life, they’d have turned on me, one day. Just like they turned on you.”

“They will always fear us,” Vincent sighed. “There is no one in the world like us. No one else who can understand us. But we understand each other. Even if we have no one else, we have each other.”

Sephiroth gave a cold snort. “Then, you expect me to believe that you would stand and defy the world, with me. That you would remain by my side, as my partner and my lover, knowing that you are my father.”

“I have said I’m willing, over and over, but you have yet to listen. Sephiroth, lay down your arms. Take off your armor, for me. Let me love you.”

Sephiroth didn’t reply, but he sat still, sullenly compliant, while his harness was unbuckled. The pauldrons clattered to the floor. The gloves and leather coat joined the crimson cloak, and the gold boots and gauntlet, on the pile, followed by the black boots and trousers.

All these months, he had never fully undressed, when they had sex. For the first time, they were naked, together. Gazing into one another’s faces. So alike, they could be taken for twins, only on opposite ends of the color spectrum—one black and red, the other white and green.

Sephiroth had dropped the mask, and his mocking half-smile was nowhere to be seen. His large, serpentine eyes were red rimmed, and the tip of his nose was touched with pink. He looked…tired. It may have been the most human the nearly seven-foot-tall angelic superbeing had ever appeared.

Vincent’s perpetually disheveled black hair hung over his face, obscuring one luminous, sunset-colored iris. Sephiroth reached out and brushed it back.

It was the slightest gesture, but it was like the touch that breaks the surface tension of a soap bubble, and causes the thing to burst. All at once, the walls were down and they were connected, intimate, corresponding halves of a single whole.

When Sephiroth took him in his arms again, to kiss him, his black wing circled protectively around Vincent’s back. He touched his face and worked his fingers into his hair, breathed his scent deeply into his lungs.

This man was his own. They belonged to one another, by blood and by choice. This…this was love. It was twisted and mutilated, but it was love, nonetheless. The rules didn’t apply to them, anyway.

These broken children, made into gods and demons, before they were even allowed to become men. Discarded weapons, crawling in the darkness, too horribly disfigured to ever be healed. Too riddled with hatred and grief and sin and obsession, to ever rejoin humanity. In this world, they would always be alone. But from now on, they would be alone, together.

———

It was early evening, and a balmy breeze ruffled Vincent’s cloak and long hair. He was standing alone, on a clifftop, staring off toward the west, where the sunset painted the sky in a riot of reds and golds, to rival the colors in his own eyes. This was a regular ritual of his—becoming lost in memory, and lapsing into long states of conscious unawareness.

He didn’t even notice, when strong arms circled his waist, from behind, and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. He only wound a lock of long, silver hair around his fingers, and toyed absently with it, as he gazed into the middle-distance. Dissatisfied with being ignored, Sephiroth nuzzled into his neck and bit him, till he emerged from his ruminations.

Vincent yanked on the strand of hair, as revenge for being bitten. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“As well as I ever feel,” Sephiroth replied lazily, pushing his nose into the hollow behind his ear. “Jenova screams in my head, night and day, demanding that I obey her and go on as we intended. I will let her have her tantrum, until she tires of it. My will is too far superior to hers, for her to make any real trouble.”

“After everything we have done, you have truly altered your purpose? You will let it all go and walk away?”

He sighed and looked over Vincent’s shoulder, out at the valley far below. “This world, like all worlds, will end, one day. Whether it happens now, or in a hundred thousand years, what is that to me? I am no longer interested in meddling with the process. When the day comes—when this doomed race annihilates itself, and all life in the world is ended—then you and I will return, and see my design fulfilled.”

Vincent closed his eyes and let his head tip back, to rest on Sephiroth’s chest. “And until then?”

“Until then…I don’t know. I suppose I’ll take up a hobby.”

“Cloud Strife will not abandon his vengeance, simply because all of his allies have fallen. You killed his mother and I killed his woman. He will continue to pursue us.”

His perfect lips curled with a hint of that old, bloodthirsty smile. “I should hope so. We might get bored, otherwise.”

#ff7 rebirth #vincent valentine #sephiroth #sephiroth x vincent #vincent is sephiroth’s parent #tw noncon #tw inc*st #dead dove do not eat #minors dni #18+ only #18+ content #tw major character death #not the main couple they live #happy ending #in a very fucked up way #don’t like don’t read #evil vincent is not good at evil

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laurenkmyers · 11 months

Text

bare as a fresh wound (you have my heart)

what if pete gets shot at the pool side instead of vegas? fic inspired by @vegaspetesupremicy‘s amazing artwork (x). ao3

~~~ Vegas

Vegas

“Could you please turn around to see me...?”

Vegas?

At the third mention of his name, Pete’s voice sends shivers down his spine. He says it with such conviction, open and raw- no ‘khun’, no surname. To Pete, he is just… Vegas, laid bare like a fresh wound.

It ignites something inside him, makes him miss the way Pete looks at him. He craves it now more than ever, wants nothing more than to see Pete and wash the sadness away. He wants Pete’s fire back, not a cheap reflection of surrender.

So he turns. Slow and steady.

Pete’s tentative smile is the first thing he sees through the fog. It warms him from head to toe, defrosting the ice around his heart and his own lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. With Pete at his side, he might actually make it through this.

Sadly, reality kicks back in in the form of Pete’s head snapping in the opposite direction.

“NO!” A command to a fellow bodyguard that comes too late.

Before Vegas can make sense of anything Pete is turning back to him, shoving him bodily out of the way and covering him with his own-

One. Two. Three. Four.

The gunshots ring through the air and Vegas flinches at each hit, watching in helpless horror as the smile fades from Pete’s beautiful face, cheeks going slack. His eyes rapidly lose focus, but not once does he look away from Vegas. Instead, his eyes flit quickly up and down as if assessing him for the slightest indication of harm. Pete’s smile returns briefly as he realises, with visible relief, that Vegas is safe before sliding gracelessly to the floor.

For a moment, Vegas is left frozen. When he moves it’s with sluggish confusion as he finds himself on his hands and knees, crawling towards Pete, who’s lying beneath him in a sickeningly dark pool of continuously growing blood.

“No no no no, Pete!”

Vegas barely recognises his own voice as he wails, watching the way the white shirt rapidly changes colour, darkening, saturating, as it clings to Pete’s broken body. Voices blur into the background, footsteps of what he assumes are other guards gather around the scene, but he ignores them all. He reaches over with trembling fingers and helplessly rips Pete’s shirt down the middle, pressing down on one of the many holes seeping with blood that now join the array of scars already littered across Pete’s torso. A choked up sob rips its way out of his lungs. He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose Pete too.

“P-Pete, please, baby, please don’t leave me. I need you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he stumbles through words that don’t sound like words, trying to coax Pete awake.

Pete’s eyes flicker open, heavy and languid, and as if to taunt Vegas further Pete smiles up at him- that stupid, dimple-popping smile. Like the crazy fucking asshole he is he smiles through the pain. The smile that simultaneously delighted, annoyed, and excited Vegas, turns bitter in the pit of his stomach, because now it terrifies him. Pete watches him for a moment before his smile brightens even further.

“S-so beautiful in red... love you in red.” Pete slurs almost deliriously.

Pete’s thought process is so ridiculous that it takes Vegas completely by surprise. Vegas isn’t wearing red today? He releases a shocked laugh as he takes in the implications of Pete’s delirium. The crazy bastard is talking about the red blood splattered across his face. His boy really is just as crazy as he is. Currently bleeding out in Vegas’ arms and all he can think to comment on is how pretty Vegas apparently looks covered in blood. Vegas has never met anyone like him before.

“You’re a psycho.” Vegas quips, wiping away the lone tear tracking like a traitor down his cheek as he mimics Pete’s own words, once used on him, back affectionately.

Pete giggles despite the thinly veiled insult, but when it turns into garbled choking Vegas pulls him onto his lap and further into his chest, shushing and soothing, but as he moves he thinks he hears Pete say ‘you love me anyway’ through the mess and Vegas thinks, ‘yes, I do.’

The next few moments of peace don’t last long as Pete starts to fade in front of him. Pete tries to speak again, words of comfort Vegas thinks, but he can’t hear anything other than the red, hot rage simmering in his gut, at himself, at the world, as he fails one more time, always a failure . His father’s words haunt him even in death.

His biggest failure now is the way the light dims in Pete’s eyes as he fails to save the one person other than his brother that he can say he truly loves. His fists clench painfully in the bunched up fabric of Pete’s ruined shirt.

As Pete trembles in his arms, Vegas wraps his own further around him and tucks his face into the crook of Pete’s neck, laying soft kisses along the line of his hair, whispering his love into Pete’s ear.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Pete says eventually, hoping to comfort him one final time. He says it with such conviction that Vegas almost believes him. But Vegas refuses to see a world in which Pete dying this way- cruelly so that Vegas can live- can be in any way okay. And if he can’t live in a world where Pete lives, no one can.

“No! Not if you leave me! You can’t leave me!” Vegas yells, startling Pete as he tilts his head to look at him.

Pete smiles one final time, “It’s gonna be okay.” He says before he closes his eyes, head slumping back onto Vegas’ shoulder as his entire body goes limp.

The monstrous noise that erupts from Vegas rocks them both and the rage within Vegas’s heart spreads like wildfire through his veins. Vegas closes his eyes, and for the first time since Pete fell he looks away, turning his fury to the group of people now gathered at the poolside. Vegas catalogues them all, one by one. Most of the faces watching the scene are unfamiliar to him, but some ring with familiarity. He examines each face, categorises them in his head, unimportant, not a threat, easily dismissible . But he keeps searching, eyeballing each and every one of them, until he lands on the one face he’s really searching for, the man responsible for Pete’s downfall. Vegas feels momentarily victorious as he catches his eye because the unassuming bodyguard knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s caught in the last moments of his pitiful life.

Vegas’ expression darkens further, and he delights in the fear he sees seep into the unfamiliar man’s bones as he gently lays Pete’s body safely back down to the ground without breaking his gaze. He grabs Pete’s gun, having already dropped his own, and stands with it pointed directly at the origin of his rage. But the moment he steps forward, all of the other faceless guards spring into action and lift their weapons in his direction.

Do your worst , he thinks gleefully.

As long as he takes that bastard down with him, he’ll gladly die right here next to Pete. It’s more than he deserves, but he’ll take it willingly.

“You…” Vegas sneers, “think you can take the man I love and live?”

The guard in question hasn’t even lifted his own weapon, frozen in Vegas’ gaze, trapped and terrified, the prey to Vegas’ predator.

Vegas takes a deliberate step forward, but as he does, the sound of a bullet whizzing through the air catches everyone’s attention. The impact of metal knocks Vegas off-kilter, as he grabs at his shoulder now blazed in agony. He’s impressed by his own resilience to the hit, and as he stands back up he feels the fury creep back in, grounding him.

Vegas lifts his uninjured arm and starts firing his gun, but sadly his aim is off, exhaustion getting the better of him. Despite his struggles he still manages to take down several armed guards on his way to the one he really wants. Getting closer and closer as each bullet hits flesh. Through sheer force of will alone, Vegas is undeterred. Even the guards themselves know he’s untouchable as they choose a more hands on tactic, gun’s forgotten. They continue their defence, but it’s more mechanical, almost as if they’ve been warned against actually killing him. It only confuses and frustrates him more. He punches and elbows and kicks his way through the gathered crowd of guards, headbutting one man who gets too close.

Vegas is covered in so much blood he can barely see, his, their’s, Pete’s . Heavy and laden with exhaustion, his whole body starts to ache. His muscles give up on him eventually and he finds himself being dragged to the ground. The few men left standing after his rampage turn the barrel of their guns towards him in resolution- a final line of defence- but as they do a surprising voice chimes in, telling them to lower their weapons.

So surprising is the voice that Vegas blinks past the blood and sweat and turns his head up to find the source.

Tankhun Theerapanyakul, in all his black and white furred glory, stands under one of the archways with his bodyguard, Arm? (smart, good aim- could be a real threat), Vegas thinks, still cataloguing.

Arm flanks on one side of Tankhun, gun wavering in Vegas’ direction as he looks at his master with the same confusion Vegas thinks must be across his face. The adrenaline still coursing through his body doesn’t allow him to linger in said confusion for long as he blurts, “What game are you playing, cousin? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he spits maliciously, “or do you want to finish me off yourself?” Vegas thinks out loud, but quickly backtracks with a deranged laugh, “No, that’s not it. You’re too much of a fucking coward. You never did like to get those precious hands of yours dirty, did you? That’s the Minor Family’s job. My job.”

Tankhun rolls his eyes dramatically in reply. His nonchalance feeds further into Vegas’ fury as he continues, “Your poisonous family has taken everything from me. I’ve got nothing left to give, cousin. So please, spare me the theatrics and take some fucking responsibility for once in your goddamn, pitiful life.” Tankhun is about to jump in and say something, Vegas is sure of it, but he cuts him off before he can, “Taking Pete is where this ends.”

And finally, finally Vegas sees something other than nonchalance grace his cousin’s face. He sees a darkness that might even match his own, surprising Vegas again.

“Dear cousin…” He rattles off what Vegas thinks is about to be a long and arduous speech with a Jane Austen-eque air about him, “I find you insufferable. You’re a cruel, cold-hearted, son of a bitch and I do not like you, but begrudgingly you are family-” Vegas scoffs at the word family , but Tankhun carries on despite his best efforts.

“I watched Pete very closely when he returned to me from his proclaimed extended holiday with his grandma . He thought he was so smart. Pete might be my head bodyguard, but he was always a terrible liar. He came back a changed man. He was hurt, both physically and emotionally, and for that alone I should have you strung up and beaten to death.”

Vegas tries for laughter, though it hits every nerve on its way out of his lungs so when it appears it sounds more like a sob than a laugh. Pitiful and weak, just like him.

Despite his pity party, stubbornly, Tankhun continues, “And yet, despite everyone knowing exactly where he ended up after he exposed your pitiful plan with…” He gags around the name Tawan , “Pete chose to stay silent. Why? I saw what you did to him. But not once did he even think about implicating you. He lied to father, to Kinn, to Porsche , but most importantly- he lied to me . My most loyal bodyguard. Sacrificed his own life...for you . Tell me why!”

Vegas doesn’t have the time or the patience to explain his and Pete’s fucked up love story right now, so rather, he utilises the distraction his cousin presents to shrug off the two guards still tentatively holding him down and shoots them both in the head point blank before turning his back to his still blabbering cousin and over to the man Vegas is happy to find is still frozen in fear. But as he takes aim he’s once again interrupted by a hysterical Tankhun screaming behind him.

“WILL YOU PLEASE STOP MURDERING MY BODY GUARDS? I’M TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF ALL OF THIS!” Tankhun flaps his arms and stomps his feet like a child mid-tantrum.

Vegas has truly lost all will to live at this point so he ignores, once more, the wailing, and takes his final aim, sending four bullets into the man’s midriff, almost an exact replica of the four bullet holes that now stain Pete’s body.

When he’s finished the job, satisfied that the man truly is dead, he turns back to Tankhun and sinks to his knees with his arms out awaiting his own inevitable end.

“I’m ready, cousin.” Vegas says in final surrender.

This isn’t exactly how he pictured his own death, but despite the less than admirable setting, Vegas is ready to die.

In his final moments he lets himself think of Macau, hopes that wherever his brother ends up, that he’s safe and cared for. The instructions to Nop, loyal from day one, were clear: should Vegas fail to return he’s to take Macau and run, as far away from Thailand as possible. The money Vegas had been stashing intermittently for years in off-shore bank accounts will keep Macau well-looked after, separated entirely from the name Theerapanyakul and all its associations.

Vegas only checks back into the real world when he hears Tankhun let out the most toe-curlingly annoying squawk, wagging an accusing finger in his direction.

“And people call me the drama queen? Get up you idiot, I’m not going to kill you. Up up up!”

But Vegas is done with Tankhun’s bullshit, and if his cousin is too much of a coward to finish him off, he’ll just have to do it himself, like everything else for this family. Readying to take his own life, Vegas turns the gun in his hands under his own chin and closes his eyes- one, two, three, four - but as the seconds tick by a garbled cough interrupts from behind.

Vegas’s eyes pop open. Tankhun’s puffy red cheeks drain of colour, white as a ghost, he raises both hands to his face and shrieks, “PETE, OH MY PETE, YOU’RE ALIVE!!”

Even that feels like a trick. A cruel trick that his cousin might have played once upon a time, but he watches as Tankhun’s face lights up, and suddenly Vegas knows it’s not a trick. Then he hears his name, but Tankhun’s mouth is no longer moving, but his name is being muttered, and it’s from the one voice Vegas could never mistake for anyone else. He whips his head around and sees a very much struggling, but still alive Pete trying to reach out to him. It prompts him into action, dropping the gun as he crawls on wobbling limbs to cup Pete’s face with both hands.

“B-baby?” He soothes, leaning down to take Pete’s bloodied lips into his mouth to kiss him with all the strength left in his trembling body. “I thought you left me...” Vegas whispers against his lips, as stray tears drip down his cheeks.

Pete’s eyes continue blinking sluggishly, “D-didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?” Pete wipes the tears from Vegas’ eyes and smiles, dimples and all.

Maybe Vegas has something to live for after all.

***

The light of the hospital is far too bright.

Pete can barely open his eyes, but when he does finally manage it, the fluorescents force them shut again. He hears a soft chuckle from beside him and his body relaxes back into the fluffy pillow behind his head as the familiarity of the voice seeps into his bones and turns him to jelly.

“Too bright, baby?” Vegas asks knowingly as he lets go of Pete’s hand to get up. The moment he no longer feels Vegas next to him, he panics, letting out a rumbling groan. Vegas must understand his apprehension because he shushes him, reaches back and strokes a thumb along his open palm and says, “I’m just gonna dim the lights, I’m not going far. I’ll be right back.”

Pete relaxes once more, and once the lights have dimmed he tries to pry his eyes open again. He successfully blinks them a few times before his focus shifts over to the blurred vision in red in front of him.

“V-vegas?” He croaks, voice sore and unused.

Vegas smiles at him and nods, “Yeah, baby, I’m here. Drink this.” He brings a straw up to Pete’s mouth and lets him take several sips of the refreshing water, soothing its way down his throat, Pete hums happily. Once Vegas is satisfied Pete has had enough he pulls back, placing the half-finished cup of water onto the bed side table before turning back to look at him with the fondest of smiles. Pete wants to imprint the image on the front of his eyelids to keep forever. He also desperately wants Vegas to kiss him.

“Vegas?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me?”

Vegas’ answering smile burns brighter at the request, soothing away the darker edges of his face. And when Pete asks for what he wants Vegas is happy to comply. Especially now, as he leans forward to capture Pete’s lips between his. He takes it slow, tentative at first, until Pete pushes forward and bites down on Vegas’ bottom lip, relishing the groan Vegas lets slip into his mouth at the action. The thrill of being able to make Vegas react in such a way settles all the what ifs plaguing Pete’s mind as he sinks into the kiss like he was made for only this.

The kiss lingers on, getting slightly more heated as Vegas loses himself in it too. Pete tries to move further into Vegas, not caring for the wrinkled silk of Vegas’ shirt as he bunches the fabric between his fist, the desire to be closer replaces logic and precaution for want and need and more. But the moment Pete twitches in pain, Vegas pulls back, despite Pete’s whine of disapproval. Vegas breathes a soft apology and then takes his time just looking at Pete. So long, in fact, does he look, that when he finally utters words Pete isn’t sure he hears him correctly, and his face must display what he can’t say because Vegas repeats himself with a bit more confidence.

“You really scared me, you know?” Vegas phrases it like a question, but there is a hint of accusation that Pete picks up on immediately. His first thought is to jump straight to defensive, but the way Vegas is regarding him, with sad, unguarded eyes stops him in his tracks. Pete understands more than anyone what it takes for Vegas to expose himself in such a vulnerable way, and he never wants to make Vegas feel like he can’t be anything but honest with him. The phrase tattooed along his hip burns as a reminder every day of the fact. Full transparency. He’d never deny Vegas this.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry for saving you.” Pete settles with, speaking his truth. Because he knows full well he’d do it all over again given the choice.

Vegas frowns, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t do it again.”

Pete smiles back sweetly knowing he can’t make that promise. He tells Vegas as much, “I won’t stand by and watch you die, Vegas. You’re too important to me.”

“And you’re the most important person in my life!” Vegas proclaims with a hint of panic in his tone. He sits back down and lowers his voice, slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “Without you…I’ve got nothing left.”

Pete lets out a deep sigh, understanding, but despite that still says, “That’s not true. You’ve still got Macau.”

But Vegas is already shaking his head. “Macau is better off without me.”

“Don’t you think I should have a say in what’s best for me?” A red faced Macau says as he makes his presence known, hands firmly on his hips in a striking resemblance of Vegas’ stubbornness.

Pete notices the deep sigh Vegas releases before he turns to look at his brother, preparing to explain his pain away. But before he gets the chance Macau has made his way across the room and is landing a soft punch to his brother's (uninjured, Pete takes note) shoulder. Vegas recoils in faux-hurt and his mouth drops open in surprise.

“That’s for trying to send me away, asshole.”

“It was for your own good. I did it to protect you.” Vegas sounds firm to the untrained ear, but Pete knows that he and Macau are probably the only two people in the world who can tell the difference.

Macau doesn’t let up, that stubborn Theerapanyakul blood ringing true, “I don’t need you to protect me from this, Hia. Dad’s dead. Good fucking riddance.”

“Macau!” Vegas scolds, but sounds far too fond to make it sound genuine.

Macau smirks, but his face turns serious once more before he says, “I’m not a helpless child anymore, V. Stop treating me like one. I’m a Theerapanyakul. I’m part of this world whether you like it or not. ”

Vegas sighs in defeat. “I know that, Cau. I know I can’t protect you from it forever. But I wanted you to have a normal childhood. Away from all the Mafia bullshit. You deserve that.”

“You already gave me that, hia.” Macau smiles fondly, reminiscing wistfully on the chance Vegas granted him, but his face quickly changes, hardening back into determination. “But now that I’m an adult I need you to stop pushing me away. Let me be part of your world. I just want to help give you the chance you never got as a kid. With dad gone you can have the life you deserve.”

Macau smiles knowingly as Vegas lets out a soft, choked off noise. He immediately moves to pull Vegas into a hug which Vegas reciprocates without hesitation, resting his head on Macau’s chest.

Pete almost wishes he could step away and give them their moment, but he’s also selfish in his desires and bearing witness to the love the siblings have for each other warms his heart. When Macau pulls back, he has a slight shine to his eyes, betraying the depth of his emotions. Pete looks to Vegas then and sees the same thing reflected in his eyes and the warmth surrounding his heart spreads all over his body. He’s never been more thankful for Macau and the never-ending love he has for Vegas, who has had a severe lack of it in his life.

Pete sniffles loudly, his own emotions betraying him as he inevitably breaks up the lingering sweetness. Macau turns to regard him in confusion, almost like he’d forgotten Pete’s presence. He considers him for a minute longer before blurting, “Is someone gonna tell me when the fuck this happened?” deliberately eyeing his and Vegas’ joined hands.

It’s only when Pete looks down that he realises that Vegas never let go, and has been subconsciously rubbing his thumb along his palm during the entire exchange with his brother.

“Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful that you saved my brother from those bullets- Nop filled me in-” Macau answers before Pete can interrupt, “-but, don’t you work for the Main Family? Last time I saw you, you were doing a terrible job of spying on us for them. Wait- did you betray the Main Family for Vegas? Are you one of us now? Can I call you P’Pete? I have so many questions.” Macau babbles on and it prompts a laugh out of both himself and Vegas, who just shrugs his shoulders in a gesture that clearly says, ‘your turn’.

Pete steels himself, “I didn’t betray the Main Family- I quit.”

Vegas’s head snaps back to him so quickly that Pete fears he might have given himself whiplash.

“You…what?” Vegas asks, voice confused and a little unstable.

“I quit.” Pete repeats, clear and concise, leaving no room for any confusion. And yet confusion clearly remains because Vegas is staring at him like he’s grown a second head or something.

“You…quit?” Vegas tries again, clearly struggling.

Pete is about to take pity on him when Macau once again makes his presence known, “He just said that, hia. Are you okay? Do you need to get checked for concussion or something?”

Vegas shoos Macau away after his unsuccessful attempts at checking on him. “No, Cau, I’m fine. I’m just trying to…understand. Why, Pete?”

Pete feels very exposed, both Theerapanyakul brothers are staring at him, expecting him to expose himself even further, but all he can muster is a shrug and a quiet, “you know why.”

Vegas loses his breath again, mouth slightly open as he swallows, allowing the implications of Pete’s words to wash over him. When realisation hits his brow furrows prettily and it makes Pete’s lips turn up in a smile. “You’re really gonna make me say it?” He asks jokingly.

Without breaking eye contact Vegas says, “Macau, can you give us a minute?”

Macau scoffs, “Absolutely not. I wanna hear him say it too.”

“Cau…please?” Vegas pleads, still refusing to look away from Pete. It makes Pete’s heart skip several beats.

“Ugh! Fine.” Pete thinks he feels Macau turn to walk away from them but as he does he throws one last line back at the two of them, “I knew it the second I walked in here and saw the way he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. You really are an idiot sometimes, hia.”

Pete should feel embarrassed by that, but he can’t quite get his body to calm the fuck down enough to process anything other than the way Vegas is currently devouring him with his eyes. Saying all the things he knows he can’t say in front of his little brother.

The moment the door slides shut Vegas is on him, tentativeness and hesitation thrown out the window as Vegas’ lips find his once more, the fire that always sizzles beneath the surface when they’re together ignites as sparks lick their way up Pete’s spine. Even the twinges of pain throbbing away on his chest don’t faze him anymore, they only add to the fuel of his pounding heart.

Vegas draws back eventually, but he doesn’t go far, resting his head on Pete’s as he allows oxygen back into his lungs. As much as Pete wants to continue kissing him, he’s thankful for the air that rushes back into his own chest.

“Tell me.” Vegas breathes hotly against his lips. “Tell me why you quit the Main Family, Pete.”

Pete’s heart flutters in his chest, the machine he’s currently hooked up to spikes hard, and for a split second Pete panics, wanting to fall back on old habits, giggle his way out of it, crack a joke about Kinn annoying him into quitting, tell a lie with a smile. He opens his eyes and takes one look at Vegas and he knows he won’t. Surrender never felt this sweet. He feels split open, walls crumbling, brick by brick by the fond look staring back at him. The incessant beeping of the machine fades into white noise, because nothing else matters but Vegas, and the way he makes Pete feel alive . The man Pete willingly took several bullets for, and would do again. The man who ripped him wide open, literally and figuratively, exposing all of his ugly parts, only to stitch him back together, one thread at a time. The man he loves. Body and soul.

“Because I love you, Vegas.” Pete holds strong, “How can I be loyal to them when everything I am, is yours ?”

Vegas grabs his face in both hands and holds him close, caressing his damp cheek with his thumb and replies, “You’re more than I deserve, but fuck, I love you too.”

Pete is about to protest Vegas’ obvious self-deprecation when the force of Vegas’ lips slide back over his, compelling his head quiet as his body submits to total salvation.

Pete’s mind is still very much lost in Vegas’ kiss when he realises far too late that not only are Vegas’s lips no longer on his own but Macau’s head has popped back through the door and he’s cooing over at them, “Damn, you guys move fast. I was eavesdropping and assumed after you both dropped the L-bomb it was safe to come back in. Anyway, welcome to the family, my in-law.” He directs at Pete with barely concealed glee.

The kid continues rambling away as he climbs up onto the bed behind where Vegas is still perched, snuggling close. When Pete’s brain eventually clicks back into the room he lets out a genuine giggle and tries to tuck his face away from them both shyly, but Vegas turns his head back to face him.

“No more hiding, Pete.”

No more hiding.

Got it.

Vegas leans forward to kiss his dimpled cheek and Pete feels his smile grow. He thinks he might finally be ready to start living.

Whatever that means.

Pete’s ready to find out.

#vegaspete #kinnporsche #vegaspete x macau #vegaspete fic #canon divergence #vegas theerapanyakul #pete saengtham #my fic #warnings: canon-typical violence #major character injury #gun violence #angst

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deanmonlover · 1 year

Note

Hi! I kinda just saw that your taking requests for Corey and I hope you still are! And I was wondering if you can the end of the movie like where Alison finds Corey n starts to break down but with more angst instead of Alison it’s reader?

Not like this

a/n: damn this idea had me crying like I love how angsty it is 😭 I know it's not exactly like the scene but I added in a few things. I hope this is the what you meant and I put a twist on it and left it open ended to where corey survives if that's okay! lol my heart can't take it 🥲

Corey hadn't been answering your text messages which considering as of late wasn't too out of the ordinary. Though because he had just asked you pretty frantically over the phone to run away with him it struck you as odd.

Please Core, pick up...I'm waiting at the diner. (Sent at 6:30 pm)

A few more minutes went by, you stirred your now cold coffee and huffed slightly getting up from the table. You were just going to go find him yourself, he was worrying you at this point. Your grandma had been also blowing up your phone to the point of you having to block her number because of her relentless messages.

There was no way in hell you were giving up the one good thing in your life. You had just found him and you couldn't loose him. He was too important to you and little did you know you were the very same to him.

Hopping in your car, you sped home hoping to find Corey there. He had to be there because earlier you had checked his house that had been ransacked by the neighborhood hecklers that came out on Halloween. The only place was home that made sense for him to be waiting on you, you just hoped your grandmother wasn't there too.

As soon as you got out of your car and ran up the drive way you heard loud bangs of a gun going off and then a stretch of silence followed by what sounded like Corey's voice saying, "What have you done?"

The door practically ripped off the hinges as you jerked it open, eyes falling on the love of your life bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh my god, fuck! Corey! Fuck!" You screamed the most ear piercing sound coming from the depths of your throat. It sounded inhuman.

"No, no, no..." You whimpered, tripping over your feet trying to get to Corey who was laying on the floor motionless. Your hands shakily reaching out to cradle his head in your hands as you sank to your knees, blood smearing all over your hands as you brushed his curls out of his face.

"Corey! Don't go please you can't leave me here!!!" You sobbed, tears running down your face as a hand reached up to grab yours.

"If I can't have you, no one will..." He choked out, grasping with what strength he had onto your hand as if it were his life line.

You scrambled to fix him, you had to fix him. He was going to explore the rest of the world with you. The two of you were going to get out of this shit town and actually see what it was to be just another part of the crowd.

Not to be the outsiders for once, to just be yourselves. To live a happy life. Corey deserved a happy life. He deserved bliss, to just exist in a world where he wasn't treated like a monster. He was anything but.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you tried to use a piece of your jacket to stop the bleeding. You cried even louder as soon as your boyfriend reached a bloody hand up to caress your cheek. You couldn't help but loose it.

Rage filled your body as you glared up at your grandmother who was holding a bloodied knife. "How could you? You did this!" You yelled, still holding onto Corey for dear life afraid if you let go even one bit that he would slip away.

Suddenly sirens pierced the air as the sound of ambulances and cop cars pulled into the driveway. Your eyes widened as you looked down at your boyfriend who was still looking up at you, dark brown eyes trained on your face.

It scared him to think if he died, he would never get to wake up next to that beautiful face ever again.

"Please save him! You have to fix him!" You pleaded hysterically with the paramedics who gathered Corey up into the ambulance. The cops were full of questions for you but all you could think about was him. You felt like you were suffocating slowly, the air leaving your lungs as you watched them wheel him away into the ambulance.

"You have to let me see him, I have to go with him he needs me!" You begged, trying to squeeze your way through the cops all the while looking like a crime scene yourself covered in the love of your life's blood.

Corey was in and out of reality, the last sight of Michael slipping in through the back gate to your grandmother's house the last vision he was able to make out before blacking out.

#corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham #halloween ends

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murder-pie · 3 months

Text

eyurm .. posting that mazz/zim zum short i mentioned ... it felt so weird referring to zim zum by his real name ..

i haven't posted writing like this before so i don't quite know how this works .. writing under the cut . ?

tw // implied (?) abuse , blood , mentions of death

✧

Even with blood pouring down their face, their body shaking with pain and fear, tears streaming and choking every word they tried to say...

they were apologizing.

"I'm sorry, please! I'll do better! Please!"

Brian stared down at his black-haired "lover." Blood dripping on the floor, they crawled over and sunk down next to his boot. Their hands weakly grasped at his ankles; effectively covering them in blood, too.

"Please, don't... don't leave me... Please... I love you... Please..."

It took everything in Brian's coke-fueled heart to not ram them in the face. For getting his shoes dirty, for being so pathetic, for being... them. Instead, he simply ripped his legs free from their grip. Another sob wrenched from their chest in response.

"Please, Brian... Please... Don't go..."

"Piece of shit. Just fucking die."

There it went. A steel toe met Timothy's lips, and teeth sunk into flesh. The pain was too much to speak. Blood spilled from their lips, pouring down onto the floor with the rest.

If they had heard this story from anyone else, Timothy would call into question what makes humans so cruel. Yet, here they were, living it. Watching the only person who mattered– the only person they had left, give them a face of no remorse before turning for the door. They reached out. The light was blinding–

and then it was gone.

They sunk to the floor, a pile of tears and blood. The newfound wounds in their mouth burned with each desperate gasp. What did they do to deserve this? Brian was so, so sweet when they met. He wouldn't do this unless they did something first, right? Right? Their brain sunk into the floor.

Timothy was tired. So, so tired. They would need to have this cleaned up before Brian got home. Who were they to bleed everywhere? On his pristine floors? A pang of guilt hit their stomach. Maybe they were a piece of shit. A piece of shit who loved somebody it didn't deserve.

They pressed their cheek against the floor, legs folded to their chest and breath heaving. The blood was getting cold and sticky. They could barely keep their eyes open. Did they deserve this? Why would they question it? If anything, they... just wanted an answer. A solid answer.

Their head throbbed with each breath. It was nothing but them and the sound of their shallow breathing against the floor. A sound to put them to sleep. Their eyes eased shut on their own.

Maybe, Brian's life would be easier if they didn't wake up.

#marilyn manson #zim zum #diphenhydramine ✧

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madnessiseverything · 1 year

Text

on nockmaar; and how it finds a prince

in which a ritual goes awry and a haunted castle had its own plans.

There are people in your halls, a rowdy group full of distrust and fear. Their voices raise, their spirits draw blades, and you would smile if you had a mouth that could split in such a way. As it is, wood creaks instead. Stone slides. Ghosts awaken at the smell of new life within your empty husk, ghosts that long stopped keeping you company without a reason. You don’t mind the sudden sounds or life.

It’s nice to have new feet to walk your floors, nice to hear their voices echo, their hearts beat with spikes of terror at your inhospitable nature. It’s nice to have souls to scare again.

There is one of them that does not walk. He sits before the throne, bent over low enough that his forehead touches the cracking path. A mockery of a true bow, but you will accept the gesture as he retches. There is something truly foul within him. It makes you curious and the others, those that walk and talk and find your ghosts, afraid. Afraid enough to chain him down, leave him to bow before the throne like a petitioner, spit out black sludge and tell them that he is not strong.

They speak of his death like an inevitability, angry as they are. There is a loud voice desperate to deal the killing blow, but not loud enough to cover the tremble in her voice. It excites you. There has not been a death between your crumbling rocks and bleaching bone for so very long. It would be nice to have something new. And the young man—a prince, they say, how very exciting, you’ve missed housing royalty—presses his forehead to the floor again. You grow quite fond of him.

He whispers about shame when they splay him out on his back, and he screams at shadows on the wall. You wish to reach down and brush his hair back, tilt his chin up high. Give him a crown, perhaps. He is so afraid, so full of guilt, a feast laid out before your throne. His voice is hoarse when he cries. There are scars so full of magic you wonder if his blood might house ghosts all on its own.

You haven’t had rituals here in a few years. Their chant is full of rust, their voices at odds, anger burning inside their chests. Their feet do not land steadily on your floors. The prince begs for death.

His wrists bleed inside their shackles and you tighten their grip some more. He bowed to your throne, pushes his guilt like a boulder. His blood stains you. You are fond.

His death is not quiet. Magic, a forever untamed beast, roars like a wildfire over their heads, slams your doors, lets the thunder rattle all there is to your sprawling labyrinth. The dying boy howls, a wounded fox inside the trap of his friends. You close your fist around his soul, wrap him up tight in chains and stone.

His friends smell of sorrow and fear when they run, their unworthy hands scratched red from where they tried to steal his body—and how dare they try, after they brought him to you, chained him up inside your halls, let his screams burrow their way into foundation and ceiling? How dare they try and get him back, how dare one of them call upon the sun to rip your prize out of your grasp? You keep him safe from her light, from their screams, from their scrabbling hands. They run.

Your prince, his shackles forged tight around his wrists, lies silent and alone before your throne. The beast of magic curls up atop his chest, looks back at you with a tilted head.

Oh.

Oh yes.

It has been some time, but you are not a stranger to this. You bend low, cover your prince in dust and wax, light up the fire his friends left behind. Magic unfurls, beats its wings. It has been some time since you’ve brought somebody back. But you are fond, and he bowed to you before it all.

It’s easy, to push through his still-feverish skin, to find his heart and lungs within. It’s easy, to guide magic through his bloodstream, bend it around the sigils carved in him. It’s easy, to breathe life into the broken man again.

You ought to fashion him a crown, you muse, as dark eyes blink and find your throne.

#willow #graydon hastur #willow 2022 #haunted places are sentient you guys <3 #elora danan #kit tanthalos #jade claymore #thraxus boorman

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thedeviltohisangel · 2 years

Text

I Heard From The Heavens//5

She felt like she hadn’t had a moment to actually spend with Bradley since the two of them arrived hours ago. They both had been pulled in different directions from college friends and work friends and her father had been insistent she dance with him so they could practice before the actual wedding. Daphne doesn’t think she had smiled this much in a while and her cheeks hurt as much as her feet as walked off the dance floor and discarded her heels.

Bradley & Daphne’s Infinite Playlist: Wishful Drinking by Ingrid Andress feat. Sam Hunt

masterlist is my url/writing or on ao3

based on a request for daphne & phoenix, send in more!

“What do you think?” Daphne opened the dressing room stall door and stood on the pedestal in the middle of the room. The white dress had thin straps and a feathered skirt that hit her at the knee. It was fun, flirty, and playful. Everything she wanted out of the dress she would wear to her engagement party.

“I think it looks super good but I kind of liked how elegant you looked in the blazer one.” Natasha,or Phoenix as her flight helmet was labeled, had agreed to go with her to the department store to help her search through the endless options. Daphne and Bradley had invited all of their friends and family members to Virginia Beach for more of an engagement weekend than just a party if they were being honest. Not all of his friends in the service had been able to get leave for the weekend but Daphne was thankful Natasha had. At TOPGUN, Bradley had used her as a sounding board. She was the only female in his class but one of the best pilots he had ever seen. He was drawn to her instantly, the similarities between her personality and his girlfriend’s not lost. She quickly became a trusted friend and, he’s not ashamed to admit, helped navigate some of the nuances of living with and loving an independent female. “Shit, Daph, you’re bleeding.”

“Fuck,” she groaned, running back to the stall and digging through her bag for the pads she never left home without. “Guess I’m buying the dress either way.” She was trying to brush it off, hoping Tasha wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Do you need water or food or some towels or-”

“I’m fine. Just a side effect from the accident last year.” Daphne knew it was only half the truth. She knew everyone that had been in class with Bradley at the time knew about the accident. Knew he had tried to quit to stay at home with her but she wouldn’t let him. Knew he came back to TOPGUN and flew more aggressively than any other pilot once he did. “Today’s actually one year since I got home from the hospital.” It had taken a while for her body to heal but even longer for her heart. Daphne would never forget hearing from the man she loved that they were going to have a child but the universe had ripped the chance away from them. She would never forget the softness of her mother’s hand against her cheek as she wiped away her tears. Never forget the way her father looked at Bradley like he had been responsible for breaking the most precious piece of porcelain.

“Is it hard to think about?” Tasha was leaning against the wall between rooms when she opened the door, Daphne back in her linen pants and tank top and done with being in public for the day.

“Well, I guess I don’t have a chance to stop thinking about it because I keep being fucking reminded.” She pressed the palm of her hand into her eyes to try and stop the watering that was beginning. Enough tears had been shed the past year, she was ready for a happier stage in her life. One where she focused on her wedding and her husband and building the forever life together they talked about dreamily in bed at night.

“I’m sorry shit is lingering. We don’t have to talk about it.” She smiled and turned to grab her purse. “Let me buy you Sbarro or something-”

“I had a miscarriage. Because of the car accident. I didn’t know I was pregnant but the accident…it fucks with my periods. That’s why…” she motioned with the stained dress instead of saying it. “I don’t know if Bradley mentioned it and you were being polite but it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Come here,” Tasha said as she pulled her into a hug. “He didn’t mention anything.” Daphne knew why he hadn’t. Knew it was a deep wound of his, fielding the news in the waiting room without her and under the rueful gaze of Pete Mitchell. Knew that he only talked about it in the comfort and silence of their home. Knew that he told her it was her wound to heal from first before he would even think about it.

“Thanks, Tash. It’s not something I feel safe enough talking to just anyone. Your friendship means alot to me, to Bradley.” Daphne meant it. With the constant moving and her commitment to her career, making and keeping friends was proving difficult.

“I can’t be that good of a friend if we didn’t even find you a dress!” Natasha laughed, Daphne joining in.

“I’ll figure something out,” she replied once their giggles subsided. “Now, you mentioned Sbarro?” They threw their arms around each other’s shoulders and giggled all the way to the food court.

----

“Baby? I brought you back some pretzel bites,” Daphne called with a smile as she kicked her flip flops off by the front door. There was no immediate response to her call so she furrowed her brow and walked deeper into the house. “Bubba?” She smiled once she reached the kitchen and saw out onto their little back patio where he sat with their fire pit going.

“Hey, munchkin. Didn’t hear you come in.” Bradley put his beer down, standing to greet her with a tight hug and kisses to the top of her head and lips.

“I promise I only ate a couple,” she smirked as she offered him the paper bag. He smiled and popped one in his mouth eagerly. “Remember when we went on that road trip and you needed to pee but only wanted to stop somewhere with pretzels?” She dropped into the chair next to him, curling her legs underneath herself and admiring the way he looked in the light of the fire.

“Cause they’re fucking delicious,” he responded around a mouthful of the snack in question. “How was shopping? You find something you like?”

“I found plenty I liked,” she snorted. She pulled the, formerly, white dress from a shopping bag at her feet and held it up for him to see. “But then my uterus decided I can’t have nice things.” She threw it in the fire then grabbed her phone to send a picture to Phoenix.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, baby.” Daphne shrugged.

“Used to it by now.” The crackle of the fire was the only sound between them for a few minutes before she spoke up again. “Tasha knows. I had to tell her. I was standing right in front of her when it happened.” He reached across to hold her hand loosely.

“How’d it feel to tell her?”

“The world didn’t stop spinning like I thought it would,” she mused. “It felt okay. Like I was just telling her something new about me. Like I showed her a scar or a birthmark or something. That make any sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” They kept a grip on their hands but turned their attention to the flame. “The doctor said it shouldn’t affect anything in the future, right?” Bradley had gone to her first OB/GYN appointment after the accident. Had held his breath and squeezed her hand so hard it hurt as she performed an ultrasound. Hadn’t let go of his breath until the doctor said nothing led her to believe there would be any problems if they wanted to conceive again.

“Has that been worrying you?” Daphne asked with a furrowed brow. Bradley shrugged. “It’s okay to think about, Bradley.”

“I know,” he whispered, dropping her hand and taking a long swig of his drink. She recognized the signs that he was retreating from the topic so she didn’t push any further.

“I’m gonna go get some marshmallows and my laptop. I have to buy a dress tonight and the restaurant sent a final menu for approval I want your opinion on.” She diverted the topic quickly, rising from her seat and kissing the top of his head. “Roos, I love you.” He kissed the part of her arm he could reach where it rested on the arm of his chair.

“Love you too, Chicky.”

----

“I’ll be right back, I promise!” she assured the gaggle of sorority sisters that had come to celebrate her. The crowd was overheating her, the breeze coming off the ocean not strong enough where she currently was. Her forearms landed on the side of the deck that held the party and she took a deep breath of salty air. A sturdy torso pressed against her back and two arms wrapped around her waist tightly, a mustache tickling her ear as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Chicky.” She giggled like a giddy school girl.

“Tonight is one of the happiest nights of my life,” she divulged to him. “I want to celebrate how much I love you every night!”

“I like that idea,” he hummed as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“There is one thing that could make this night even better.” He spun her so they now faced each other. Slowly, his hands slid down her back to cup her perky bottom. From the new vantage point, Daphne could see he had sweat through his nice, new button up from dancing.

“Us disappearing to the bathroom or backseat of the Bronco for some alone time?” He kissed her and wasted no time making his intentions known. It was deep and passionate and desperate and she moaned before she even had a chance to think about it.

“I’ll give you a blowjob in the bathroom if you play my favorite song on the piano.” He lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Before she could process what was happening, she lifted over his shoulder with a yelp.

“Someone get me a fucking piano!”

#miles teller #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun maverick

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