“ You Left Me No Choice But To Stay Here Forever. ”

don't you realize our bodies could fall apart any second?

141 x male!reader

⚠︎ REPOST FROM PREVIOUS BLOG ⚠︎

warnings: gore, cod typical violence, foul language, kinda angst-y, could be read as either romantic or platonic, actually scratch that very angsty, death, alot of contemplating death, honestly mostly price centered lolz, its also like basically the convoy chase scene so yeah

notes: ⚠︎ this was a request from my previous account!! so uh 🪷 if u see this then here :3 ⚠︎ tsym for requesting !! this was crazy fun to write and i was really excited to work on it!! i had to fudge around some details for it to make a little more sense logistically speaking -- also sorry for taking a long ass while to get it done, but i hope you like regardless :)

(and yeah 🪷 is fine lol)

The horizon of the young night, painted in soft, deep blues, and splattered with stars like the flick of a paint brush, almost completely takes you out of your head. You don't often get the chance to enjoy the beauty around you, and even as you do in this moment, there's shouting and gunfire ringing in the background. Even the heavy pitter patter of rain can't deafen. It was ironic in a way--  you could probably find a cliche metaphor in there somewhere.

The huff of the helicopters rapid blades muffle what you can hear, even with your headset securely cuffed around your ears. The relentless wind beats against your skin, grabbing and pulling at your hair ferociously.

Even after all this time, these missions never fail to get your nerves up.

You feel your heart pound against your chest as Captain Price, in the seat besides the pilot, continues to bark out orders and directions. Pursing your lips, you bring your guns scope back to your eye, grip so tight you might've thought you've left your fingerprints indented into the plastic. You're squatted down on the helicopters floor, leaned against the wall as you use it for cover. Your bullets fly from the open door, aimed for the hostile vehicles set on evading your team.

Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or rather Gaz, mirrors your position on the adjacent side of the door-- Soap and Ghost no doubt holding similar positions behind you.

It's almost looking like this whole thing might go your way.

"Gaz-- [L/N]!" Price calls out over coms. "Anti-Air teams locking onto us-- your side!"

Your aim almost instinctively finds them-- large red lasers all seeming to be pointing directly at you. You squeeze your finger against the trigger, a cold sweat washing over you as you realize your bullets are doing nothing to their body armor. You felt the rhythmic jolt of your gun in your arms-- realizing you were swiftly running out of time, you called by to price, finger never leaving the trigger. "Captain-- They're wearing armor, we can't---!"

"INCOMING!" The frantic shout from Gaz cuts you off, eyes widening as you attempt to shield yourself from the missile blazing towards you. 

Your breath hitches as the heli begins to shake and spin-- you move from the door, pressing your back against the wall, madly grabbing onto whatever you can.

The pilots voice sounds in your ear, her voice strong, yet clearly frenzied. "We're going down, Y'all-- I need to execute an emergency lan-" Another large boom cuts her off, sending the heli plummeting to the ground, violent jerks being an attempt from the pilot to keep you from being obliterated the moment you'd make impact with the ground.

You try to maneuver to a more secure position as the heli grows unstable, but feel as the ground slips from under you, your back crashing again the floor with a heavy thump, head bouncing roughly against it.

Smoke fills the air, and your lungs, as alarms blare from the helis systems. There's a frantic cacophony of shouts as you fumble for anything to hold onto, nails screeching against metal as you claw to keep yourself alive. You feel your body lose to gravity as you begin to slip out, your gun now long gone.

your body dangles outside the heli, as chaos ensues. Your breath is rapid as you're just almost able to lift yourself back into 'safety.' but the rain has made everything slick and unstable. Your grip, your clothes, the metal.

Another hit to the tail end sends the helicopter to the point of no return. Plummeting downwards at seemingly impossible speeds-- in just a few seconds the chopper dove nose first into the ground, the screeching of metal aching on before coming to a silent hault.

The wreckage is still-- silent for a moment.

A sore groan stumbles from Prices throat as he forces his eyes open, a dull pain spreading through his body. On instinct, his hand goes to reach for the pilot, still sitting besides him. He stops as his eyes reach her-- her eyes wide open, empty, a strange glassy eyed stare bore into him. Broken glass litters her deep completion, the hair that had escaped her once neat bun lay stuck to her forehead as sweat and blood coats her flesh.

His chest tightness as he looks past her, into the cabin. After a moment of deadly silence, as if he were scared to ask, he finds his voice. "Are you-" a cough cuts him off, he almost instinctively turns away as he continues to hack through his sentence. "Are you alright!?"

He's partially relieved when a slew of groans answers him. Turning back, ignoring the stare of the pilot, he tries for an exit from the windshield, having been shattered upon impact. As he climbs from the cockpit, he hopes his voice is still loud enough for his team to hear. "Gaz?"

His head snaps as a figure emerges from the wreckage, pushing heavy scraps of metal from its way, and stumbling out from what remained of cabins open door. "'m alright..." He groans out in a hushed whisper, blood coating his forehead. It seems Gaz is still trying to process what's happened.

"Soap?"

As if on cue, Soap follows in Gaz's steps, footing unstable as he attempts to climb out. A string of barely legible curses are spat from his mouth before finally answering with an "I'm fine." The mostly agitated sort of growl sounded like it'd hurt his throat.

Soap extends a hand into the wreckage, a skeleton clad glove reaching for it, gripping it with a grunt as Soap pulls him up.

"Ghost, you alright mate?"

"Not dead yet." Is all he responds, stumbling from the rubble. 

"[L/N]?"

Again, everything's still.

Rain pounds against his head, soaking his hair. He must've lost his hat somewhere in the wreckage.

"[L/N]!" He calls again, straining to listen for your reply. He hisses out a curse as he moves to the demolished, Ghosts voice stopping him mere seconds later.

"Price." He says it like a whisper, not even turning to look at his Captain. Its like he's frozen in panic.

Price turns, his gaze following ghosts a few feet from the crash. barely visible through the rain is a still body.

Your body.

Price doesn't register the fact that he's moving, his feet almost slipping against the mud, till he practically falls to his knees, the momentum of his movement pushing him into your body when he comes in close. His hands hover over your form, fearful his touch might shatter you.

You're on your side, limp as Price continues to mindlessly call your name, as if pleading with you to just hop up, pretending like the crash was just a scrape to your knee. "No, no, nonono- [Y/N]-!"

He rolls you onto your back eyes shooting to a large shard-like piece of metal stabbed into your side. Smaller pieces of shrapnel have torn into your clothes and buried themselves under your skin. His hope begins to falter just before you force out a breath, face twitching on discomfort as you shakily come to. You force your eyes open, meeting the fear-stricken frown of your captain.

Price lets out a breath of relief, putting on a smile to mask his panic. It doesn't work well.

You know something's wrong.

Scoffing at his almost fatherly attempt at comfort, you crack a smile, speaking through a sickly, dry throat. "Now be for real with me, old man; just how bad is it?" He's looking at you like you're a dog about to be put down.

He doesn't answer you.

Heavy boots bound towards you, snapping Price from his poorly concealed panic. His head snapps towards the rest of the team-- but he doesn't have to say a word. They're already doing what they have to.

You hear a certain sort of zip of fabric before you feel Ghosts unmistakeable warm hands pressed against you. You're covered in rain, dirt, and your own blood.

Price is still knelt by your head, trying to keep your attention on him-- trying to keep you talking, to keep you conscious. So it's that bad, huh?

"Kid, can you feel anything?"

You ponder the question, a strange happenstance that you don't know quite how to answer that question. "I feel..." You notice the gush of warmth flow out of your body, and a pulsing dullness. Nothing else. As you breath in to answer, you feel more blood gush from you. "Warm. It's kinda gross, actually." You went to laugh, but your chuckle is caught in your throat. You feel a strange sort of painful stabbing sensation in your legs-- like pins and needles amped up to a hundred. You don't say anything, just silently wince.

Price wordless stands, shouting into his walkie-talkie, as you look to Ghost. You don't dare look at the damage you've been dealt, just barely catching a glimpse of his scarf pressed against your skin, your red staining the once tan fabric.

You snap your eyes up, attempting to focus on the breath you're swiftly loosing. Your breathing grows shallow, despite your efforts to swallow back more air-- it's as if your lungs are simply refusing to work. Your chest aches as you fight for deeper breaths, as if your a fish fighting to survive above the water-- breathing a painful chore.

You try to move, to put a hand around your throat to sooth yourself, but your limbs all feel numb-- heavy, yet jelly-like all the same. It's as if some invisible force is holding you down.

your hearing begins to distort-- almost sounding like your head was plunged underwater, all voices and sounds fading beyond much of your understanding. You recognize Prices voice, shouting into his coms. His words echo three or four times, yet to you it's devoid of any substance or meaning.

Your vision blurs-- maybe it's the rain getting in your eyes, or maybe you're really just dying. You scowl at the cliche you're living through. At the very least, you now know all those books and movies held some truth to them.

he pain worsens as you try to speak to Ghost. "I swear to God, L.T, if I start rambling about seeing a bright light, just shoot me." Ghost doesn't find your attempt at humor very funny.

You're vision begins to go black, fading from the sides until only a fuzzy circle of your vision was left. For a moment you're struggling to figure out whether or not your eyes are closed.

Price continues to shout about medical evac, Gaz is at Ghosts sides, applying pressure to the multiple puncture wounds littering your abdomen as they try to work out a plan to move you to evac without potentially further harming you. Soap is at your side, his gloved hand protectively grabbing onto yours. You think he's talking to you, and you think you're answering, maybe offering him a joke or two to comfort his panic, but you can't be sure. This goes on for awhile, like you were stuck living the same minuet over and over again.

A ringing slowly floods your ears, and all at once your pain is eased. In the midst of such chaos around you, you find a quiet. A stillness. A sort of comforting peace washing over you.

The warmth of your blood is strangely curing. It reminds you of various memories from deep within your childhood-- lost instances of a tender embrace, being lulled to sleep in the arms of a loved one, dark and silent.

Death was an inevitable thought in your line of work. Honestly, the thought was probably the most consistent thing you had in your life. It was always pretty scary-- you didn't know when you'd die, how, what would come after-- frankly it scared you. But now, in the ease, there was a mysterious certainty in the cradle of death, you found yourself accepting the idea as if it were a gift you'd been waiting for.

"[Y/N]?" You've stopped answering Soap. Your instinct is to fight heft in your eyelids, but you're just so tired. As you begin to surrender to the peace, Soaps thick accent cuts through it. "No-- stay with me, [Y/N]!" He shifts his position, laying your head on his lap as his hands rest on your face, shaking your head to keep you awake.

His shout of protest gets Prices attention. Price approaches yet again and takes Soaps former place. He places a hand on your chest and shoulder, shaking you lightly. As he begins to speak, you roll your head towards him, barely making him out through the fuzz. "C'mon, stay with me, son." He sees that sort glassy glint in your eyes. "Don't close your eyes-- close your eyes and you're a goner. Jesus fuck--! Don't you fucking die on me-- that's an order!" His voice shakes despite himself.

You aren't afraid of death. You always thought you'd die slow and painful, but this was....Nice. There's no pain, no fear, nothing but numb. You struggle for a reason to not simply give into yourself-- maybe this was just your time. You're tired-- you're young, but so fucking tired. Why not let go? What are you holding on for?

Your head rolls to the other side. Ghost and Gaz's hands are coated in your blood, their clothes possibly forever stained with the memory of your life fleeting from under their palms. You can feel the warmth of Soaps lap from under your head, one hand lightly slapping your face, and the other combing back your hair with tender care. Weather its to sooth you, himself as a nervous tick, or to just keep your mud soaked hair from your face, it's still appreciated. Price has screamed his throat raw. You never thought you'd see the man falter, but you could feel his once strong hands seem to crumble again you as they gripped almost pathetically at your vest and shirt.

Suddenly you had your answer.

You draw a shallow breath.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cap."

Happy Birthday, Diluc!

"Paimon, if you stand there, I'm afraid the wind will blow you away..."

"One last place to clean! Traveler, after we finish cleaning the leaves, let's go to..."

"Master D—Diluc!"

CUMNADOESS 😋

falling in love with him (mwah mwah mmwhawnmhawha) childe pppoookikeikeieke modern au? reader is like childe's age dwdwdwdwdw not proofread and uhhh uh idfk cumnados OH AND GN READER

childe "im hurrying!' you screamed to your best friend venti, you both were going out to eat for your 21st birthday at this relatively fancy restaurant with a few of your friends. a pretty basic birthday tradition, still a good one nonetheless. so there you are, getting a ride in venti's car all the way to xxx restaurant, music on full volume, and the windows rolled down. 'TURN HERE VENTI.' trying to scream over the loud music, venti managed to hear you, turning left into the restaurant and seeing 10 to 15 of your friends outside waving you over for a picture. 'SMILE!' beido screamed, snapping a picture of everybody around you, with big smiles. 'can we eat now im fucking starving~' venti said, tilting his head back and groaning. opening the door, the cool air reached you with a sigh of relief, your guys' table was cleaned and ready for whatever mess you guys were going to make out of it. everything was...fine, no it was amazing. everybody was laughing, drinking, and telling funny stories whilst waiting for the waiter to come and start the orders. 'alright, who wants to order first?!' you look up from the menu, and god dawhm...he was a tall and handsome and muscle ginger. 'y.n you can go first!' kaeya waved towards you to go ahead and order your drink. 'ill have some uh..margarita..?' you spoke, the handsome guy laughed, you read his name tag 'ajax' and then scribbles of 'childe' placed above his name. 'and your id?' 'i..oh yea!' fumbling in your back pocket, your friends laughed silently, watching you fall for the waiter you'll probably see 2 times in your life.

handing your id over to the handsome man, he smiled 'happy birthday!' while handing it back, moving on to take drink orders from the rest of your friends, you simply smiling and daydreaming about this newfound ''ajax'' 'ill be right out with those!' he spoke, putting his pen pad back into the apron he was wearing, hurrying back into the kitchen.

just as he left your friends burst into laughter, making fun of you (lovingly) and you laughed along with them, still a bit embarrassed. 'he's coming back~' kaeya leaned over and wispered into your ear, causing your head to shoot up looking at him coming over with a black shirt that was to tight for him (please get this man a bigger size.) ajax started putting the glasses down on the table, asking where this and that goes, and last but not least your drink comes along, so you took a sip just as he was leaving, then spit it out. all of your friends broke out in laughter, including ajax. whilst you start apologizing to everyone around you who now has margarita and spit on their pants and shirt. 'it appears you weren't quite ready for your first drink dear?' ajax came behind your with a cloth while everybody picked up their glasses to make his job easier. everybodys laughter died down, but you were just focusing on how he called you dear, do you call a stranger dear? maybe he's just being friendly? your mind was quite flustered, but all went over smoothly, and instead, you just took sips of everybody else's drink. and here ajax comes again, you took deep breaths in order to not embarrass yourself in front of him again. 'alright food orders? more alcohol?' everybody goes around with their food orders and some alcohol orders. 'and for you, big 21?' 'can i have...a cheeseburger, yea a cheeseburger.' looking up from your menu he was slyly smiling at you while writing your order down, not even looking at the paper. 'ill be right out with those!' he sliped away into the crowd of waiters, and into the kitchen doors, you let out a sigh. 'you should ask for his number if you love him so much.' albedo spoke, sipping on his drink. 'you know what! i will!' getting the confidence, the next time he comes over, you'd ask for his number.

well time passes, and passes, and passes terribly slow, you were having a good time no doubt about it, but you were scared for the next time ajax would walk over with the food. and as if it was planned, ajax walked in carring a plater of food. 'ok and here we have a cheeseburger, then a xxxx and....' as he matched the food with each face you mustered up the courage to ask him 'excuse me...ajax?' he turned back around at the call his name 'yes?' 'can i have your number..imeanyoudonthavetogiveittomethatsfineiwasjustwandering' fumbling with your hands, your friends were grinning with excitement, waiting for his answer he just chuckled and pulled out some paper. 'of course~' writing his number down on the paper, he put it next to your plate and rushed away to grab another order from a table to the right of you. 'you actually did it!' kaeya laughed, and nearly everybody joined in. 'that proves you albedo!' you said, pointing at him 'i never doubted you.' monotone voice as always. still sipping on his drink, staring at everybody else in the restaurant. finally, you looked at the paper as everyone kept on their conversations about this and that. the paper was messily ripped out of a pass order with barely legible numbers on it with a 'call me!' with arrows pointing to the numbers, this made you smile as you shoved the piece of paper in your pocket, waiting to call him when you got home.

time passed with multiple laughs and it was time to go home, after having cake and singing happy birthday, kaeya drove you home since venti was too drunk to even walk. 'are you going to call him?' 'of course i am!' you spoke, looking out the window of the car, fumbling with the piece of paper in your pocket. slowing down at your driveway, kaeya droped you off at your house.

when you got inside you kicked your shoes off and hurried to call him. jumping on your bed, you kicked your feet back and forth like some girl from a 2000s' movie. 'ok 1..2..3!' you press the call button and the ringer went two maybe three times before a voice picked up. 'hello?' your eyes widen, you never thought he'd pick up, it was the middle of the night for fucks sake! 'hi...this is y.n. the guy you uh, gave your number to at xxx' your voice was stumbling over every other word. laughter was heard from the other end of the line 'that guy who spit his drink out! of course, how could i forget someone like you!' you stood there shocked, was that a compliment or an insult? 'i find it cute don't worry~' leaning into the phone, you could hear him chuckling at the end of his statement. 'well uh.. what are you doing right now ajax?' you asked, getting changed into pajamas. 'nothing much, getting off work. what about you y.n?' 'getting ready to sleep.' you answered dully, the excitement and nervousness of calling ajax was now gone, and you were getting tired. 'so! are you free on sunday? maybe for dinner?' that caught you off guard. 'yea...i am..' 'see you then!' the beep of the phone hit your ears as you smiled, you finally got a boyfriend

I Wanna Hold Your Hand: HanKisa

Summary: Shuji Hanma was stumped. It had been nearly a week since he had started his grand plan of Getting Tetta Kisaki to Hold My Hand. However, he’d struck out several times already.

Tags/Info: Hand holding, Fluff, Smoking, Swearing, Food

WC: 893

READ ON AO3

Keep reading

don't you realize our bodies could fall apart any second?

141 x male!reader

⚠︎ REPOST FROM PREVIOUS BLOG ⚠︎

warnings: gore, cod typical violence, foul language, kinda angst-y, could be read as either romantic or platonic, actually scratch that very angsty, death, alot of contemplating death, honestly mostly price centered lolz, its also like basically the convoy chase scene so yeah

notes: ⚠︎ this was a request from my previous account!! so uh 🪷 if u see this then here :3 ⚠︎ tsym for requesting !! this was crazy fun to write and i was really excited to work on it!! i had to fudge around some details for it to make a little more sense logistically speaking -- also sorry for taking a long ass while to get it done, but i hope you like regardless :)

(and yeah 🪷 is fine lol)

The horizon of the young night, painted in soft, deep blues, and splattered with stars like the flick of a paint brush, almost completely takes you out of your head. You don't often get the chance to enjoy the beauty around you, and even as you do in this moment, there's shouting and gunfire ringing in the background. Even the heavy pitter patter of rain can't deafen. It was ironic in a way--  you could probably find a cliche metaphor in there somewhere.

The huff of the helicopters rapid blades muffle what you can hear, even with your headset securely cuffed around your ears. The relentless wind beats against your skin, grabbing and pulling at your hair ferociously.

Even after all this time, these missions never fail to get your nerves up.

You feel your heart pound against your chest as Captain Price, in the seat besides the pilot, continues to bark out orders and directions. Pursing your lips, you bring your guns scope back to your eye, grip so tight you might've thought you've left your fingerprints indented into the plastic. You're squatted down on the helicopters floor, leaned against the wall as you use it for cover. Your bullets fly from the open door, aimed for the hostile vehicles set on evading your team.

Sergeant Kyle Garrick, or rather Gaz, mirrors your position on the adjacent side of the door-- Soap and Ghost no doubt holding similar positions behind you.

It's almost looking like this whole thing might go your way.

"Gaz-- [L/N]!" Price calls out over coms. "Anti-Air teams locking onto us-- your side!"

Your aim almost instinctively finds them-- large red lasers all seeming to be pointing directly at you. You squeeze your finger against the trigger, a cold sweat washing over you as you realize your bullets are doing nothing to their body armor. You felt the rhythmic jolt of your gun in your arms-- realizing you were swiftly running out of time, you called by to price, finger never leaving the trigger. "Captain-- They're wearing armor, we can't---!"

"INCOMING!" The frantic shout from Gaz cuts you off, eyes widening as you attempt to shield yourself from the missile blazing towards you. 

Your breath hitches as the heli begins to shake and spin-- you move from the door, pressing your back against the wall, madly grabbing onto whatever you can.

The pilots voice sounds in your ear, her voice strong, yet clearly frenzied. "We're going down, Y'all-- I need to execute an emergency lan-" Another large boom cuts her off, sending the heli plummeting to the ground, violent jerks being an attempt from the pilot to keep you from being obliterated the moment you'd make impact with the ground.

You try to maneuver to a more secure position as the heli grows unstable, but feel as the ground slips from under you, your back crashing again the floor with a heavy thump, head bouncing roughly against it.

Smoke fills the air, and your lungs, as alarms blare from the helis systems. There's a frantic cacophony of shouts as you fumble for anything to hold onto, nails screeching against metal as you claw to keep yourself alive. You feel your body lose to gravity as you begin to slip out, your gun now long gone.

your body dangles outside the heli, as chaos ensues. Your breath is rapid as you're just almost able to lift yourself back into 'safety.' but the rain has made everything slick and unstable. Your grip, your clothes, the metal.

Another hit to the tail end sends the helicopter to the point of no return. Plummeting downwards at seemingly impossible speeds-- in just a few seconds the chopper dove nose first into the ground, the screeching of metal aching on before coming to a silent hault.

The wreckage is still-- silent for a moment.

A sore groan stumbles from Prices throat as he forces his eyes open, a dull pain spreading through his body. On instinct, his hand goes to reach for the pilot, still sitting besides him. He stops as his eyes reach her-- her eyes wide open, empty, a strange glassy eyed stare bore into him. Broken glass litters her deep completion, the hair that had escaped her once neat bun lay stuck to her forehead as sweat and blood coats her flesh.

His chest tightness as he looks past her, into the cabin. After a moment of deadly silence, as if he were scared to ask, he finds his voice. "Are you-" a cough cuts him off, he almost instinctively turns away as he continues to hack through his sentence. "Are you alright!?"

He's partially relieved when a slew of groans answers him. Turning back, ignoring the stare of the pilot, he tries for an exit from the windshield, having been shattered upon impact. As he climbs from the cockpit, he hopes his voice is still loud enough for his team to hear. "Gaz?"

His head snaps as a figure emerges from the wreckage, pushing heavy scraps of metal from its way, and stumbling out from what remained of cabins open door. "'m alright..." He groans out in a hushed whisper, blood coating his forehead. It seems Gaz is still trying to process what's happened.

"Soap?"

As if on cue, Soap follows in Gaz's steps, footing unstable as he attempts to climb out. A string of barely legible curses are spat from his mouth before finally answering with an "I'm fine." The mostly agitated sort of growl sounded like it'd hurt his throat.

Soap extends a hand into the wreckage, a skeleton clad glove reaching for it, gripping it with a grunt as Soap pulls him up.

"Ghost, you alright mate?"

"Not dead yet." Is all he responds, stumbling from the rubble. 

"[L/N]?"

Again, everything's still.

Rain pounds against his head, soaking his hair. He must've lost his hat somewhere in the wreckage.

"[L/N]!" He calls again, straining to listen for your reply. He hisses out a curse as he moves to the demolished, Ghosts voice stopping him mere seconds later.

"Price." He says it like a whisper, not even turning to look at his Captain. Its like he's frozen in panic.

Price turns, his gaze following ghosts a few feet from the crash. barely visible through the rain is a still body.

Your body.

Price doesn't register the fact that he's moving, his feet almost slipping against the mud, till he practically falls to his knees, the momentum of his movement pushing him into your body when he comes in close. His hands hover over your form, fearful his touch might shatter you.

You're on your side, limp as Price continues to mindlessly call your name, as if pleading with you to just hop up, pretending like the crash was just a scrape to your knee. "No, no, nonono- [Y/N]-!"

He rolls you onto your back eyes shooting to a large shard-like piece of metal stabbed into your side. Smaller pieces of shrapnel have torn into your clothes and buried themselves under your skin. His hope begins to falter just before you force out a breath, face twitching on discomfort as you shakily come to. You force your eyes open, meeting the fear-stricken frown of your captain.

Price lets out a breath of relief, putting on a smile to mask his panic. It doesn't work well.

You know something's wrong.

Scoffing at his almost fatherly attempt at comfort, you crack a smile, speaking through a sickly, dry throat. "Now be for real with me, old man; just how bad is it?" He's looking at you like you're a dog about to be put down.

He doesn't answer you.

Heavy boots bound towards you, snapping Price from his poorly concealed panic. His head snapps towards the rest of the team-- but he doesn't have to say a word. They're already doing what they have to.

You hear a certain sort of zip of fabric before you feel Ghosts unmistakeable warm hands pressed against you. You're covered in rain, dirt, and your own blood.

Price is still knelt by your head, trying to keep your attention on him-- trying to keep you talking, to keep you conscious. So it's that bad, huh?

"Kid, can you feel anything?"

You ponder the question, a strange happenstance that you don't know quite how to answer that question. "I feel..." You notice the gush of warmth flow out of your body, and a pulsing dullness. Nothing else. As you breath in to answer, you feel more blood gush from you. "Warm. It's kinda gross, actually." You went to laugh, but your chuckle is caught in your throat. You feel a strange sort of painful stabbing sensation in your legs-- like pins and needles amped up to a hundred. You don't say anything, just silently wince.

Price wordless stands, shouting into his walkie-talkie, as you look to Ghost. You don't dare look at the damage you've been dealt, just barely catching a glimpse of his scarf pressed against your skin, your red staining the once tan fabric.

You snap your eyes up, attempting to focus on the breath you're swiftly loosing. Your breathing grows shallow, despite your efforts to swallow back more air-- it's as if your lungs are simply refusing to work. Your chest aches as you fight for deeper breaths, as if your a fish fighting to survive above the water-- breathing a painful chore.

You try to move, to put a hand around your throat to sooth yourself, but your limbs all feel numb-- heavy, yet jelly-like all the same. It's as if some invisible force is holding you down.

your hearing begins to distort-- almost sounding like your head was plunged underwater, all voices and sounds fading beyond much of your understanding. You recognize Prices voice, shouting into his coms. His words echo three or four times, yet to you it's devoid of any substance or meaning.

Your vision blurs-- maybe it's the rain getting in your eyes, or maybe you're really just dying. You scowl at the cliche you're living through. At the very least, you now know all those books and movies held some truth to them.

he pain worsens as you try to speak to Ghost. "I swear to God, L.T, if I start rambling about seeing a bright light, just shoot me." Ghost doesn't find your attempt at humor very funny.

You're vision begins to go black, fading from the sides until only a fuzzy circle of your vision was left. For a moment you're struggling to figure out whether or not your eyes are closed.

Price continues to shout about medical evac, Gaz is at Ghosts sides, applying pressure to the multiple puncture wounds littering your abdomen as they try to work out a plan to move you to evac without potentially further harming you. Soap is at your side, his gloved hand protectively grabbing onto yours. You think he's talking to you, and you think you're answering, maybe offering him a joke or two to comfort his panic, but you can't be sure. This goes on for awhile, like you were stuck living the same minuet over and over again.

A ringing slowly floods your ears, and all at once your pain is eased. In the midst of such chaos around you, you find a quiet. A stillness. A sort of comforting peace washing over you.

The warmth of your blood is strangely curing. It reminds you of various memories from deep within your childhood-- lost instances of a tender embrace, being lulled to sleep in the arms of a loved one, dark and silent.

Death was an inevitable thought in your line of work. Honestly, the thought was probably the most consistent thing you had in your life. It was always pretty scary-- you didn't know when you'd die, how, what would come after-- frankly it scared you. But now, in the ease, there was a mysterious certainty in the cradle of death, you found yourself accepting the idea as if it were a gift you'd been waiting for.

"[Y/N]?" You've stopped answering Soap. Your instinct is to fight heft in your eyelids, but you're just so tired. As you begin to surrender to the peace, Soaps thick accent cuts through it. "No-- stay with me, [Y/N]!" He shifts his position, laying your head on his lap as his hands rest on your face, shaking your head to keep you awake.

His shout of protest gets Prices attention. Price approaches yet again and takes Soaps former place. He places a hand on your chest and shoulder, shaking you lightly. As he begins to speak, you roll your head towards him, barely making him out through the fuzz. "C'mon, stay with me, son." He sees that sort glassy glint in your eyes. "Don't close your eyes-- close your eyes and you're a goner. Jesus fuck--! Don't you fucking die on me-- that's an order!" His voice shakes despite himself.

You aren't afraid of death. You always thought you'd die slow and painful, but this was....Nice. There's no pain, no fear, nothing but numb. You struggle for a reason to not simply give into yourself-- maybe this was just your time. You're tired-- you're young, but so fucking tired. Why not let go? What are you holding on for?

Your head rolls to the other side. Ghost and Gaz's hands are coated in your blood, their clothes possibly forever stained with the memory of your life fleeting from under their palms. You can feel the warmth of Soaps lap from under your head, one hand lightly slapping your face, and the other combing back your hair with tender care. Weather its to sooth you, himself as a nervous tick, or to just keep your mud soaked hair from your face, it's still appreciated. Price has screamed his throat raw. You never thought you'd see the man falter, but you could feel his once strong hands seem to crumble again you as they gripped almost pathetically at your vest and shirt.

Suddenly you had your answer.

You draw a shallow breath.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Cap."

may i request an chifuyu angst, they're in a gang fight and where instead of him being shot, his s/o gets shot instead?

ROSTER . . . chifuyu matsuno

SYNOPSIS . . . you weren’t supposed to be there, but you were ; fluff pt. 2 ; angst pt. 2

CONTAINS . . . blood, death, swearing

NOTE . . . a bitch be struggling out here😭

chifuyu’s foot collides with his opponent’s face, scarlet staining the sole of his sneaker as it crunches through bone and snaps cartilage. his opponent reels back with a gurgled cry, leaving chifuyu to plunge back into the throng in search of a new target. a sea of blue and black surges around him, wild whooping and battle cries piercing the air as the two rival gangs ravage each other in pursuit of absorbing the other. he grits his teeth. the rival gang may not have the best brawlers, but they outnumber toman three to one; and, when it comes to physical altercations, numbers have a shocking way of determining the final outcome. he hasn’t yet met someone strong enough to evenly trade blows with him, which is somewhat reassuring.

as he elbows his way through the crowd, he can’t help but wonder how takemichi is doing. that kid’s so inexperienced, he’s probably--

“chifuyu!”

his ears perk at the sound of a strangely familiar voice. it almost sounds like yours, but that can’t be right. there’s no way you would be here right now. before he can turn his head, he feels something solid slam into his back and unceremoniously shove him forward just as a gunshot rocks the air. chifuyu’s heart skips a beat at the unforeseen sound of a gun being fired, and he stumbles, knees wobbly. what the hell? who brings a gun to a fistfight? almost immediately, the lingering weight on his back increases drastically, and he grunts as he’s consequently dragged to the ground and pinned beneath it.

“hey, get off,” chifuyu snaps. “what are you doing?” he rolls onto his side, causing the object weighing him down to flop to the side with a dull thump. “what’s going--”

his breath catches in his throat.

his eyes widen.

his body freezes.

the pressure on his back belonged to a body… but it wasn’t just anyone’s.

no.

it was yours.

no.

you’re sprawled motionlessly in the dirt, limbs angled awkwardly from having been shoved off by your boyfriend. your eyes are glossy and clouded over, empty and devoid of the resplendent, vivid twinkle of light that chifuyu had admired since the day he first met you. now, they just stare sightlessly at the night sky while the stars above sparkle and wink mockingly with the same luster that was supposed to belong to your soul. but in the unjust exchange for the brilliance of your eyes, they gifted you an ever-growing pool of blood that shone just as radiantly beneath the moonlight... but made chifuyu feel sick. a perfect hole has been etched into your forehead--a hole that’s not supposed to be there. blood dribbles from the wound and arches down your forehead, and it’s with a pang of dread that chifuyu realizes that the majority of the blood is originating from the back of your head. your skin is already beginning to pale, the youthful glow that you always radiated dulling into a muted shade kissed by the cold lips of death.

all around you, the flow of the battle has waned dramatically, almost every combatant falling into a shocked silence at the murder that just unfolded. a heavy silence hangs over the abandoned parking lot. no one moves. no one says a word.

“what…” chifuyu whispers, slowly shuffling toward you. his blood turns to ice in his veins as he tentatively, cautiously stretches out a hand to touch you, only to feel his stomach plummet when his fingertips press into cold flesh. it’s not an illusion. you’re tangible. this… is real? “no,” chifuyu’s voice trembles. his hands shake as they inch forward to caress the sides of your face. he flinches when your blood slithers over his fingers--blood that’s not supposed to fucking be there. “no, no, no, this isn’t--” his voice snags in his throat. his throat is beginning to knot up with quickly approaching tears, but he isn’t sure why. you’re not dead. you can’t be. you’re… you’re not even supposed to be here, goddamnit!

but the more his eyes travel over your lifeless features and his fingertips roam along your face--the same face he’d caressed and kissed goodbye less than an hour ago--the more it’s becoming undeniable. this is real. you’re really here… with a bullet through your brain.

“(reader)..?” panic begins to set in. ignoring the haze of death dimming your eyes, chifuyu seizes your shoulders, jostling you gently as if trying to rouse you from a nightmare… just as he wishes someone would do to him. tears sting his eyes, blurring his vision until all the colors in the scene before him bleed together like a smudged watercolor painting--like this was a mistake. an accident. a twist of fate. chifuyu doesn’t know what he’s feeling. he doesn’t know whether this discomfort and nausea is rage, grief, guilt, or despair. all he knows is that it’s so intense that he wants to scream. tears openly cascade from his eyes and drip onto your skin, diluting the blood and causing it to stream even faster down your skin in watered-down rivulets. in a fit of frustration, chifuyu swipes his sleeves across the blood spatters, desperate to wipe them away because they’re not supposed to be there. not on the love of his life. not on the person he already started secretly setting aside a bit of money in order to purchase a promise ring for. not on you.

“what are you doing here?” chifuyu can’t keep the tremor in his voice at bay. he carefully lifts you up by your shoulders, setting your head on his lap with such gentleness that it almost seems as if he’s afraid to disturb your slumber. he can’t bite back the pathetic whimper that slips from his lips when your head makes a sickening squelching sound and lolls like dead weight against his thighs. “you’re supposed to be at home. you’re not supposed to be here. why are you here?” voice raising, he pulls you up and into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “why? you... you didn't have to do that! you're supposed to be home! you're supposed to be safe!” his body wracked with sobs and shuddering breaths, he buries his head in the crook of your neck, hating how cold your skin is against the warmth of his hands. “(reader)!”

he doesn’t hear the thundering footsteps as keisuke and takemichi hurtle past him, making a beeline straight for the culprit. he doesn’t hear the crackle of bones splintering or the dull thud of the gun as it hits the ground. with his ear pressed to your chest, all he hears is… nothing. you’re heart is supposed to be beating, but it isn’t. it’s silent. it’s… silent. it’s…

all my fault.

this… is all my fault.

light shines down on this home still

synopsis: ayato’s birthday comes around again this year but he is always thinking about you. the things you said, what he learned, how you left and when you will be back. (aka. childhood friends + life lessons and the two of you walking two different paths that meet again)

warnings: angst > fluff (kinda), you join the fatui word count: 1k

ayato always remembers the night that you left as the one that changed his life.

in some ways, he wished to remain just a simple child so that no ends would come for him. everything was so much more vivid when he was smaller. the grass he ran on, the trees he climbed, the flowers he would hold in his hands. nature seemed more generous then and he was able to enjoy that generosity in every cloud and sunset, in every sakura petal. there was innocence in existing back then and he treasured it.

Keep reading

I wanna smooch him pls omg

PGR Kareshi (3) -- Wanshi [Sleep]

Important notice.

I know some of ya'll would think why I never write here, its just idk man I lost my fair share of interest in writing, beside this fucking blog of mine is literally memory rummage of my 2021-2022 self and idk I just feel weirded out when I looked back at it.

And beside I'm sorry but I'll be archiving this blog and yes I'll be moving blog, to where? Idk not telling hehe, if you see this just think of it as a silly grave for xevrq.

And yes I'll still be reblogging shit on here, have a nice day.

Its always fem reader isnt it 😔

I can't find any good Scara x male/gn reader

💀