#ro asks

OPERATIVE D-6

D-6’s hands press down hard on your wound, steady as ever—until your voice cracks out, fragile and desperate: “I love you.”

Their composure shatters, eyes go wide, lips parting like they’ve forgotten how to breathe. Their hands hesitate just a fraction too long before resuming their pressure.

Their heart’s beating too fast, thoughts spiraling out of control.

Don’t—don’t do this. Don’t say goodbye… don’t leave me.

They speak—with as much breath as they can muster, with as much despair and pain as your state brings them.

Leaning in, their forehead nearly touches yours. Their voice is low, raw, and breaking with something you’ve never heard from them before: “You’re not… you’re not dying here. Not after that...”

- - -

DETECTIVE JUNO REYES

Blood slicks Juno’s hands, their jaw clenched as they fight to keep you conscious. You manage the faintest smile, words slipping past your lips in a whisper: “Guess I should’ve told you earlier—I love you, Juno.”

Juno freezes like you’ve just shot them instead. The color drains from their face, and when they find their voice, it’s trembling.

“No. No, don’t—don’t you dare pull that shit now.”

They press harder on your wound, shaking their head fiercely.

“You don’t get to drop that on me like it’s your last words. You’re gonna live, you hear me? You’re gonna live and say it again when you’re not—”

Their voice catches, breaking.

“Not bleeding out.”

Their jaw trembles, eyes burning, but their grip on you never falters.

- - -

NICO/NIA RUSSO

You laugh, but it’s thin, ragged, cut with pain: “I love you, youknow. Figured I should say it before it’s too late.”

Russo’s eyes go wide, panic clawing at their chest.

“Too late? No, shut up with that. Don’t—don’t talk like that!”

Their hands move frantically, trying to stem the blood, every curse spilling out of them thick with desperation.

“You can’t just tell me you love me and then fucking leave, alright? You’re not allowed. You’re not—”

Their voice cracks, breaking mid-word, but their hands don’t stop, not even for a second.

- - -

KIERAN/KIERA MYLES

Your voice is barely there, soft and fragile: “I love you. Always have.”

Myles’s hands still against your side, eyes locked on yours. For once, that sharp, unshakable control fractures.

“No,” they whisper, shaking their head slowly.

“You’re not saying that here. Not—not like this.”

Their voice is low, steady on the surface, but you hear the tremor underneath. Their hands don’t slip—they never would—but their eyes betray the storm raging behind them.

“You don’t get to leave me with words I can’t—can’t give back properly.”

They lean closer, eyes burning. “You’ll live. You’ll hear me say it back the way it deserves to be said.”

- - -

ALEX/ALEXI MONROE

Your bloodstained fingers curl into their sleeve, and you force the words out between shallow breaths: “I love you.”

Monroe’s breath hitches audibly, their eyes instantly brimming with tears.

“Don’t—don’t say that like it’s the end. Please, please don’t.”

Their hands are shake as they press against your wound, tears spilling freely down their cheeks. Their voice spirals into pleading, breaking apart.

“I love you too, okay? But you’re not—you’re not dying. You can’t. You can’t—”

Every word sounds like it’s shattering them from the inside out, but their hands keep moving, desperate to keep you tethered.

- - -

ROWAN/RHEA CARTER

Your lips part, your voice little more than a ghost: “I love you.”

Carter goes utterly still, their hands frozen against your wound.

For a heartbeat, their face is carved from stone. Then their jaw sets, eyes blazing with a ferocity that shakes you even through the haze of pain coursing through tou.

“Don’t you dare,” they growl, pressing harder.

“Don’t you dare make that your last words.”

Their voice cracks at the edges, their control faltering for just a second. “You don’t get to—you don’t get to leave me like that. Hold on. Live. Say it again when you’re safe.”

Their throat works, hard, as their eyes bore into yours.

Luk:

He jerks awake sweat covering his face, and breath rapid. When he finally registers that it was just a nightmare, he rolls over seeking his wife. But she's not there.

He sits up and throws the blanket off. Why would she not be there? He reaches for his sword while he calls her name, only belatedly realizing he doesn't sleep with it any more. He moves across the room to grab it, while his eyes continue to search for his missing wife. The pommel of the sword feels cold in his hand, both serving to waken his senses and bring him comfort. He doesn't know why he needs it, but he clutches it tightly like it can banish the lingering weight of the nightmare.

It was just a dream wasn't it? He's disoriented, but not that much. He pushes open the door to the adjoining room, and the faint light of a single candle illuminates the figure he's been desperately searching for. He drops his sword, still not entirely sure what he intended to do with it.

The noise makes his wife jump out of the chair she's sitting it, and she mumbles something under her breath when she knocks over the ink vial.

"Luk?" she asks, but he doesn't give her any time to process before he moves forward, wrapping her in his arms, and burying his face in her neck.

"I thought you were gone."

"What? I wouldn't leave you. You know that," she sounds confused, but her arms tighten around him.

"Not gone as in leaving, gone as in dead." I swallows, trying to push away the tears threatening to fall. "I had a dream. And you died in my arms. It was so real then you weren't there…"

"Hey, shh," she soothes, while he loses the battle with his tears. "I'm right here."

"Come back to bed with me? I need to hold you."

Tzesar:

He wakes up with a gasp, and scrambles out of bed, his legs getting caught in the blanket during his frantic escape. He can't see anything. It's so dark, and he's never awake at this hour.

He shakes his head to try and regain his awareness and he pushes himself back to his feet. Normally MC would be laughing about this. Why isn't she laughing?

"Mc?"

The lack of answer, brings back the panic he'd just managed to shake away. This is ridiculous, it was a dream. MC isn't dead. She's here somewhere. Just not in bed.

Then the door pushes open, and Tzesar jumps with a surprised yelp. His cry is matched by the person walking in.

"MC?"

"Tzesar? You scared me, I thought you were still asleep."

"Bad dream," he answers, starting to calm down again now that she's back. "Where were you?"

"Bad vision," she responds with a shrug, making Tzesar feel guilty. She dealt with this kind of thing all the time, and somehow there were nights he still managed to sleep through it. "I went to get a snack since I didn't want to sleep again. I ran into Emperor Konstantin, and he gave me a bottle wine, said I earned it for enduring so many sleepless nights. Want some?"

"Absolutely," Tzesar agrees. He doesn't really want to go back to sleep either, and just listening to her voice is helping him calm down. "Want to tell me about your vision?"

Sentinel:

His body lays perfectly still as his eyes shoot open from the nightmare. He's no stranger to his own mind tormenting him at night, but this one had been especially bad. He throws an arm over his forehead and sighs. Yet another night where he won't get more than an hour or two of sleep.

He looks over to check on his wife as he flips the blanket off himself. But she's not in bed. His brows furrow as he tries to deduce where she might have gone. Despite the torments of his subconscious mind, he knows she's alive, and is confident he'd feel it in his very soul if she wasn't.

A faint light under the door to the washroom captures his attention. That must be where she's gone. Maybe he'll just wait for her then. Normally he goes outside when he can't sleep or wakes up in the middle of the night, but he doesn't want to just disappear if she isn't sleeping.

A moment later the door opens and the light casts her shadow into the room. A couple of footsteps follow then her soft voice filled with regret. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet and conceal the candle light…"

"You're fine. It was a dream not you."

She walks forward and wraps her arms around him. "Then I'll stay up with you."

"I am not a child," he protests, as guilt fills his chest. "I can deal with a bad dream."

"Yes, but you always stay up with me after my visions."

"I have insomnia, so I'd be up anyway, besides you don't deserve the dreams that burden you."

"Neither do you," she answer, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Inviaynaile vayn uela lishallitharay quitha gisaivarusaid," he mumbles, not registering the words until he says them. He hadn't meant to revert to Elven. Maybe he was more affected by the dream than he thought.

Gentle hands cup his cheeks, and a small kiss to pressed against the tip of his nose. "No. And I'm staying up with you anyway.

Nax:

The room is so quite when he jerks awake that all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears. He frantically looks around, searching for MC. He knows it was just a dream, but he has to be certain. When she's not in bed he jumps up, and throws a shirt on.

Before he can think better of it, he's marching out the door. She has to be around her somewhere; he refuses to believe she's dead. That was just the product of his stressed mind playing tricks on him. Not real. But the remnants of the dreams linger in his mind like breaking free of a siren song. Even when you can see the creature for what it is, and part of you mind still clings to the illusion it offered.

He tries the kitchen first, thinking maybe she went to get a snack or some water. Empty. Then he goes through each of her favorite places, before something in the window catches his gaze. A familiar silhouette. He marches outside and finds her sitting near the window watching the stars.

He sighs and drops down next to her. Then he scoops her up and places her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She sighs in contentment, but doesn't say anything else. He keeps silent too, directing his gaze to the stars that have captivated her so. Already, the warmth of her body is pushing away any lingering traces of his nightmare.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. "So what has you awake so late?"

She sighs. "I woke up because I was too hot, so I came outside to get some air, then I saw that the sky is especially clear tonight and got distracted."

Nax hums in agreement, knowing he would easily do the same. "Why don't we watch them together for a bit?"

Instead of agreeing, she pulls away enough to look at his face. "Why are you awake?"

"I-" the urge to defelct is on the tip of his tongue, but he pushes it down. "I had a bad dream."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"