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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 9 months ago

Note

I've just re-read my previous requested fic for tf 141 x reader with high pain tolerance, and I think we could extend this prompt (and as always you can take it or leave it, no pressure a yea 👍🏻)

What if TF 141 almost lost F!Reader again, this time she got caught by enemies and got tortured for crucial/classified information. While being tortured, you can't help but feel a little grateful that you have such an extreme pain tolerance. You finally managed to get out that place by your own (and of course after unaliving your enemies) and got back to your team. Men are worried as hell cause 1) you look like shit, like someone has just crawled out of hell (which in your part it isn't wrong), 2) the fact that you have extreme pain tolerance just make it worse

And when you finally got evaluated by medics, including clothes off, that's when they knew you'd have it worse than what they've imagined. Black-ish bruises almost every where, broken bones, dislocated joints, dried blood etc. It's heartbreaking seeing you like this. Probably some will have self blaming, guilty, rage, and other mixed emotions. Hmm imagine the heavy angst but also the massive comfort after that.

Thankskie 🦈

Summary: high pain tolerance F!Reader get tortured, after you getting rescued, enjoy the FLUFF between you and TF141

cw: very slight gore (interrogation), canon swearing, canon violence

blahaj, FLUFF, TF141*F!Reader

last req about high pain tolerance F!Reader

Oh, This isn’t great. You probably going to die this time.

You licked your chapped lips, the bitterness of iron is obnoxious, making you regret the motion and go back to try to piece together your memories again.

You counted the time when you first got caught, but after endless rounds of interrogations, your mind is too hazy to keep up the measurement.

With your hands bounding tightly on your back, chains and steel bars preventing your legs from moving, all you can do is just prey for your teammates to come.

At least you aren’t afraid, no fear of death, nor fear of pain. It’s always these moments that you feel grateful for having almost no feelings of pain, it makes you keep composed and adamant.

Well, starving kind of sucks though, you guess you’ll even devour those vegetables you hated and shoved into Kyle’s plate if it’s presented to you.

Your mind wanders, from your pudding hiding in the deepest part of the fridge in case someone (Soap) eats it, to how Price will scold your ears off for being too reckless when you’re back, until the footsteps outside the door remind you to concentrate.

Damn, you need to get out alive if you want to listen to your dear Captain recite the rules.

The door creaks open with the broad man stepping in and his dogs tailing after with weapons.

The cool water gets splashed on your face when the man stands still in front of you.

“New toy, yeah?” you spot the machete in the man’s grip

“Glad to see you awake, sergeant?” The man laughs “Seems like the mouth still works pretty well, I hope your mind is clear too so we can cooperate perfectly today.”

“Sober enough to tell you ‘no’, I guess”

Red pours from your shoulder the second after your taunt, and you frown slightly at the little sting.

“Fucking bitch still has a sharp tongue after these wounds...” He eyes down at you with a bit of disbelief.

Even though you can’t see yourself, you know you look like shit either. Burnings from the lighters, slash wounds from various tactical knives, dark bruises forming on your thigh and other parts after countless punches and kicks.

All you need to do is buy time, but even if you barely feel pain, you still will die from blood loss if this keeps going.

The rest of the interrogation is just adding more injuries to your broken body, and your consciousness starts fading.

You really want to take a nap... but will you wake up again? you’re not sure especially when another smash lands on the back of your head.

Just about minutes before you sure will pass out again, you hear the noise. Gunfire, yelling, screaming of a massacre.

They arrived...

“Go check what’s wrong.” The broad man gestures, and one of his subordinates walks out to

“Guess your saviors have come... now” You look straight into the man ’s eyes when he puts the muzzle between your eyes. “No time for playing, one last time, tell me the people gave you the intel.”

The chaos outside is getting louder and closer. Buy time, you tell yourself again, so you whisper

“Okay... Okay... I will tell you, please don’t kill me, please...” You sniff, and start sobbing while your head stays lowered.

“Finally giving up, huh? Tell me, I need their name, who do they belong.” The smirk on the man’s face gets wider, god, you really want to punch his face.

“It’s...” You murmur, and the man leans closer to hear clearly.

“It’s go fuck yourself, you bloody bastard.” You spit the blood on his face and grin like a maniac.

and the door swings open, the gunshot splatters the man’s blood on your face, but you don’t care.

You win.

“Hey, guys, long time no see.” You smile at your teammates after the man collapses beside you.

“You’re fine now, don’t worry, we got you.” Soap rushes to your side “Price is calling the exfil, Ghost and Gaz are outside making sure everything’s clear.”

“Thanks...” You melt into Soap’s arm when he unties the rope and carries you.

“I tell the bastard to go fuck himself, hehe.”

“Stop talking, bonnie, ye need to rest.”

“Did I do great?”

“Yes.” The gravel voice of Soap’s becomes softer as he answers.

“May I rest now?” you blink slowly.

“Of course, lassie.”

Getting the confirmation, The warmth radiating from Soap is too soothing, you want to tell him how much you miss them, but those words are unable to come out as you get dragged into a coma instantly.

“damn...”

Your eyelids flutter open, the familiar white ceiling is the first thing you see.

“Morning, bonnie, how do ye feel?”

“dizzy as fuck.”

“pain?”

“Nah.”

“Sometimes I think you’re not human...” Soap laughs, but he’s worried, or worried can’t describe his mood when he saw your wounds as you were sent into the infirmary.

That day when they back to base, all of them followed you, and didn’t pay any mind about getting their gears off first.

You looked like someone who just found her way out of hell, beautiful face swollen, large bruises spread across your skin like some nasty paintings, and the situation was worse than they expected after the medics cut your clothes off and started their evaluation.

Soap couldn’t forget the rage swallowing him like flames when he saw what you went through in those days, the more wounds they spotted, the more tension in the air became more insufferable.

Gaz and he cursed when they saw the huge burn on your back, skin obviously inflamed, and when the deep cuts that exposed the bones revealed from the cover, he noticed Ghost clenching his fist to suppress anger.

Price stormed out of the infirmary and called Laswell between the medics surmising how many of your bones were broken.

“Wait...” your voice pulls Soap back to reality “blahaj! 4 blahaj! Where do they come from?”

“Price gave them to you, as rewards for your hard work. He said you keep rambling about wanting to have one.”

“awwww” Soap grins as he watches you struggle to hug all of them at one time.

“There ya go.” He helps adjust the plushies so you can get them all in your arms.

“Oh yeah, where’s others?”

“Price’s on op, will be back in a week. Ghost and Gaz will visit you soon.”

“Hmmmm.”

You caress one of the blahaj’s head and turn your face

“Thank you.” you grin “For coming to save me.”

“What are you talking about?” Covering his hand on yours, he looks into your eyes, without those playful glints in his azure ones.

“We’re a team, or more than a team. Ye think we will throw ye there and do nothing?”

The seriousness on his face infatuates you, you meet his gaze without darting, and finally, break into tender giggles.

“yeah, sorry, you’re right.” You chuckle “You know what? In that basement, All I wanted was to get out of there and come back to eat my pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Yeah, I have one in the fridge.” nodding in excitement, you continue “I should ask the doctor if I can eat it.”

“Wait that’s yours?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ehhh...” Soap’s smile freezes on his face under panic “I ate it.”

“...”

Soap MacTavish gets kicked out of the room with a new mission: buy 10 puddings.

When Gaz knocks on the door and steps into your ward, you are staring out the window, but turn to him immediately when you hear his arrival.

“Hey, Kyle.” You wave with your better hand.

“Feel better?” The sugar-coated smile he has always provides you with energy, your mood lights up as he takes the seat beside your bed.

“mmhmm, not that dizzy anymore.”

“loves those sharks very much?” He points at the blahajs you squeeze close to you.

“Damn, they’re my new babies now.” You show Gaz each of them.

“This is Pricey, this is Ghostie, this is Gazzy, and this is Soapy.” Proudly introducing them to Gaz, you give the sharkies a few pats.

“Such Innovative names, hm?”

“I don’t think Gaz is some special name too, Kyle.”

You both giggle at the stupid names you granted to the sharks, while Gaz lands his eyes on your arm hanging mid-air, his laughter gradually comes to a halt.

“Hey.” He watches you raise an eyebrow when he calls you “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Just...” His eyes stay on your bruises, traveling along them, and he hates that they lead his gaze to roam your whole figure. “We should be there faster.”

His brown eyes are full of distress when they meet yours again.

“Garrick, come closer.” You beckons, and he follows suit.

“Don’t apologize. When I saw all of you on that goddamn chair, I knew I was safe now.” You cradle his cheek in your palm “You guys are my shelter, my home, and I never thought the chance that my team wouldn’t save me, Soap said it yesterday, and I’m sure you’re the same, yes?”

“Of course.” His eyes soften, and you return him a reassuring smile when

“Time for you to go train the rookies, right?” Shooting a glimpse at the clock, you ask.

“yeah, time to deal with those troubles.” He stands up from the chair and looks down at you “See you, lovie.”

“see ya.”

You watch him walk towards the door, but stop after a few steps.

“Why does Soapy have a huge dent on his head?”

“Oh.” You pout “He ate my pudding, so I punched his shark since I can’t spar with him now.” another punch hit Soapy when you finish speaking.

“Wow...”

Gaz mourns for his brother’s future with his whole heart.

“Still awake?” The gruff yet gentle voice floats into your ear the moment the door slides open.

“Been sleeping the whole day, LT.”

Ghost watches you shift, and lies on your side to face him.

“How’s the day, Ghost?”

“Shit as usual.”

“How about seeing me, feel better?”

“Feels worse.”

“Hey, honesty is a virtue but not here.”

He scoffs at your retort as he observes your face.

“The bruises on your face look smaller.” Ghost indicates.

“Oh yeah, my face! How does it look like?” You point at the hand mirror Gaz brings you, and after Ghost hands it to you, you open the lid.

“Jesus Christ!” you shout when the reflection shows you how shit you look like “I’m so ugly right now!”

“We all know.”

“Damn, if there’s an award for honesty, you will be the winner, Simon.” You throw the mirror back into his grip.

“Will you congratulate me?”

“I will give you an ‘I’m a winner’ sticker for you to paste on your mask.”

He chuckles at your banter, but you can sense his exhaustion, from his limp body to his half-lid eyes.

“You’re tired, Simon. Go back to rest.” You coo softly.

“I’m not leaving until you sleep.”

“but I’m not that sleepy now.”

“Should I sing you a lullaby, sergeant?”

“I’m afraid that my ears don’t have the honor the hear your beautiful singing, Sir.” you feign an ‘oh hell no’ face to him, but your eyes light up when an idea comes to mind.

“Hey, how about you lie on my bed? it can fit 2 people.”

“I don’t know you’re such an active woman.”

“Fuck you, Simon. If you want me to fall asleep then get on the bed right now!”

Sighs in compromise, Ghost rises from the chair and sits on the edge of your bed with a grunt, and you scoot inward to leave him more space to lie down.

“You’re like a bear, Ghost, I’m gonna squash into a pie by you and the blahajs!”

“Then throw those bloody sharks on the floor.”

“No! they’re Tf141 blahaj!” You pet the one in your arms when Ghost gives you a confused face. “This is you, Ghost.”

“The real Ghost is beside you and you choose him over a fake one?”

“I don’t know you’re that active, lieutenant.”

You smirk at him, he’s only wearing a balaclava, so you’re able to see the corner of his eyes crinkle at your words.

But Ghost must have some magic, you grow sleepier under his presence, maybe it’s his steady breath sounds like a lullaby, or it’s because safety he always generously offers to you.

“Sleepy now?” He speaks slowly and quietly as if he’s fear of scaring your sleepiness away.

“a bit...” A big yawn answers the question better than your slurry voice.

“Close your eyes then.”

“mmm.”

You secure the Ghostie blahaj in a tight embrace as you follow Ghost’s command.

you feel light pats on your non-injured part, and you scoot closer to the bulky man, letting him lead you into a peaceful sleep.

Ghost watches you fall asleep, and he moves off the bed as gently as he can.

“Sweet dreams.” He chants in a low voice, and he takes other sharks in his hand, placing them closer to you.

Making sure the sharks are cuddling you, he leaves like a ghost in the serene silence.

You look down at yourself, ankles tied to the chair, blood dripping from the knife that’s barely in your sight.

Aren’t you already out of that basement...?

Is it all a dream? In reality, you’re still getting interrogated?

You try to fixate on the noise outside the door, but you feel the cold metal touching your forehead.

Am I never going to see them again? I want to see them again...

I want to hear Price’s praises, want to hear Soap and Gaz fighting over the last biscuit, want to hear Ghost’s annoyed voices at my frolic.

Tears gather in your eyes when you hear the click from turning off the safety of the gun.

“... geant...sergeant... sergeant.”

“Ahh!” You let out a yell as you snap your eyes open, which are wide with horror.

“Cap-Captain...” You pant whilst you recognize the person pulling you from your nightmare.

“Yes, it’s me, love. You’re safe now, you’re in the base, infirmary, remember?” He caresses your hair to calm you down.

Oh, yes, you aren’t in that basement. You’re back.

You’re with the people you love.

“Why are you here, Captain?” after you breathe steadily again, you notice it’s 1 am, and the aisle outside is silent.

“Just came back from the op, and want to see you.”

“You should have some rest, Price.”

“You mean I leave now even when you just woke up from a nightmare?” He crooks his eyebrows.

“Well...”

“Be selfish, love. I will stay here.”

“You don’t blame me for being too stupid and getting caught by the enemy?”

“Things went south sometimes.” He shakes his head “It’s not your fault.”

“...”

“Say it, luv.” He encourages you when you hesitate.

“I...” “I thought I was not afraid of anything... at least in that basement, pain’s not a big deal for me, starvation is bearable, and death... if that means I won’t lose to those dorks, then it’s nothing to me.”

Price gives you a grunt as acknowledgement, so you continue.

“but... I think I’m still afraid of dying...” You fidget your fingers “I want to see all of you again... I want to come back to you.”

“I don’t want to die...”

You haven’t noticed tears staining your cheeks until Price’s finger — calloused yet warm — wipes the tears away.

“We all know you’re brave, kid.” Price cups your face, hand barely touches your skin, must be avoiding trigger your pain, but you don’t care, nor you can feel the pain, you shove your cheek in it and earn a chuckle from the man.

“Your high pain tolerance makes you look forward to your target without worrying yourself, but keep in mind.”

“Don’t make us worry, you need to come back to us, we can’t lose you, just like you can lose us. Understood?”

“Yes, Capt.”

“You want to go back to sleep?”

“If you tell me a bedtime story, then I will.” the mischievous grin returns to your face.

“Greedy, eh? I thought those sharks could satisfy you.”

“I want your bedtime story too.”

“How about I tell you a story about how to become an attentive soldier?”

“Fuck you, Captain.”

You hit Price with the plushie, which he catches easily, and put it on his lap, letting you give the shark little punches to drain your excessive energy, as he starts telling what happened when he met Soap the first time.

You aren’t afraid of pain, and you become an undaunted person on the battlefield. Yet still, you now keep in mind that there are people who love you, and are worried about you.

You all are a team, a home, and a haven for each other, always by each other’s side, or waiting for others to return safely.

and it’s really nice to be able to come back home.

a/n: thanks for reading! and thank you sharkie for the request, I hope you will like it (or not too disappointed) !! :D

Have a nice day/night, everyone!

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leviathanleva · 9 months ago

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Minor Violence, Non-consensual Choking]

[5.4k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 2 "The Proposition"

You wanted to say something desperately, but your mouth came dry and empty and you promptly closed it to avoid any stray specs of sand. Your neck ached from having to keep it so profoundly craned just to hold eye contact and avoid the gun from pressing against your Adam’s apple.

His boots sunk in the dune as he juggled his weight tantalizingly, prowling in front of you and looking like he was ready to pounce. He was staring at you like you weren’t even human and it made sense because he didn’t look like one. The sun scratched at your exposed shoulders and upper back, hair pooled over your face and breasts and no longer acting as a shield for your delicate skin. It hurt, it burned, your flesh felt like it was cooking on a barbeque rack, but there was nothing you could do except take it like a champ and worry about it later.

This was not how you imagined the world above to be… You never thought you’d be attacked by giant roaches or chased by deranged criminals smelling of shameless cannibalism or held at gunpoint by the man…thing, that saved your life. You never imagined it was this bad up here, so desolate and askew, everything was old, rusted, worn, and crumbling and you had half the mind to just go back and let the raiders kill you and make their threats a reality of making you into human jerky.

The gun tapping incessantly against your cheek failed to pull you out of the depths of your spinning thoughts. But when it was forcibly pressed against the center of your forehead, nearly knocking you back on your arse, you stiffened with a gasp.

Your hero was becoming impatient.

“Never seen a ghoul before, Darlin’?” he asks with somewhat of a frown, his agitation brewing with your silent treatment and mindblown stare. He pranced around you, circling your kneeling, hunched-over form as you tried following his movements with doubtful eyes and a racing heart. “You been livin’ under a fucking rock?”

His gun was cocked and ready to fire, a steady forefinger resting over the trigger in case you decided to be stupid and try to run or lunge at him. He scoffed at the idea but kept his guard up just in case. After so many years of roaming, he’d seen just about everything, he wasn’t risking it no matter how defenseless you appeared at first glance.

“N-No…No, Sir. Never seen a…ghoul. Before.” you forced the words out, fearing his wrath, and clung to your sides as your hands kneaded through the soft material of your dress. Your head lowered obediently, lashes shielding your darting irises as they read his every movement. “A rock? No, I – “

It took him a single spin to notice the Pip-boy slapped over your wrist and his eyes hardened. He stopped by your side, towering over you, and ripped your arm away, clutching it in his hand with a roughness you’d never experienced before. You winced as he leaned over to inspect the device and grimaced with a twitching upper lip.

“ – A vault dweller…” he spat and his gloved fingers dug into your flesh. He ignored your whiney noise of protest, jostling you into silence before shooting a flesh-searing glare right into your soul. “You a vaulty?”

“What? I – No! Yes. Wait – ” you stammered when he dug a knee into the sand and let your arm go before gathering a handful of hair on the back of your head and forcing your neck back to make you look at him. He was…menacing, practically bolting you to the ground with a single glare. “Wait! Please, wait. Please! I – ” your hands shot up to grip his wrist, trembling and useless as you pleaded. He dug the gun under your chin, preventing you from swallowing. “Please, I did. I lived in a vault, but I don’t know anything! Please, please, I promise. Don’t – “ your eyes frantically shot down at where the barrel sunk into your skin, teeth chattering as your lashes heavied with tears.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?!” he snarled, leaning so close that if he had a nose it would have bumped into yours. His breath stank of spirit and you tried to recoil but were promptly jerked back into place.

It didn’t click in your brain what had upset him so. The vaults were created to preserve humanity and its antics from before the bombs, it was for the betterment of the future. It was so that his children could eventually live better lives after you finally left the sanctuary of the underground and restored order to the surface, or so you’ve read. It made no sense for him to hate you based on a stupid Pip-boy that wasn’t even yours, you’d done nothing to him, you didn’t even know him! How could he be so nonchalantly cruel? How could he touch you without your consent? What gave him the right!?

The firearm digging into your flesh told you what.

“I was sick!” you wail, fighting back your tears and a pitiful stutter from poisoning your reply. His grip on your hair tightened and you twitched in pain, shaking like a leaf beneath him and clutching at his wrist in a silent plea to let you go. “I was isolated. I didn’t know anyone but my mom and dad, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know!” you debated for your life, prolonging his spine-chilling intentions. Bargaining with the devil was a difficult task when your body and mind worked against you, all blabbering words and choppy thoughts and jittery limbs. “The vault was taken over and I ran and I don’t know anything about the people and I just – Please…My parents are dead…Please, Mister, please don’t shoot…” you beg through sobs and a sniffling nose, tugging at his iron grip to no avail.

With a grunt and a flexing jaw, he threw you back, treating you with disregard equal to tossing out a piece of garbage, releasing you to curl up protectively over yourself, and standing. His gun clicked and he secured it back in the holster on his hip.

You instinctively rub at the tender area on the back of your head with a dissatisfied plaint, locking your thighs to obscure your exposed privates. Propped up on one hand and with a shaken look, you watched him spit and turn, his expression solid and distasteful and beating down on you for no reason that you could comprehend. Your breaths begin to event out and you swallow with a shuddering hum.

He turned away, drawing distance between you with stiff steps, fighting his resolve as his hand itched to draw his weapon and just shoot you on the spot.

But he couldn’t…

You weren’t worth the bullet, he repeated that bitter sentence under his breath to convince himself that he hesitated and withdrew simply because you were a waste of ammunition. It wasn’t your doe-eyed stare and too-soft-for-this-world skin that felt like silk when your tiny fingers had lingered under the edge of his sleeve. It wasn’t your delicate, shiny hair that looked like it would tear under his hold or the thick, heavy lashes that framed your eyes and held your tears that shone like diamonds in the sunlight. It definitely wasn’t that tiny dress that hugged your little frame and would make any goon go rabid from just a glance. You were no wastelander, didn’t look like any vault dweller who had crossed his path, you were too soft even for the life before the bombs. He didn’t know what you were, but you weren’t worth the cogitation.

You weren’t worth the bullet. You weren’t worth anything. You were nothing.

You were –

“ – Wait!” you hurry to rise and stumble after him. Despite his demeanor, he was the only thing that hadn’t tried to kill you on sight, and without anything or anyone else around, you had mentally latched onto him as your hero. “Mister, wait! You can’t just – “

He raised his weapon and pointed it at you faster than you could blink. Your hands shot up to shield your face and you shrunk in submission, rapidly blinking and with a hesitant look.

“Come closer.” he barks and cocks his gun, arm extended and eerily steady. “See what happens.”

“I – You can’t just leave me here!“ you protest, mustering what confidence you could, scraping at the bottom of a barrel that was emptied the moment you had set foot outside the vault. You straighten when no bullets come and your palms curl into fists, stomping a foot for emphasis. “That’s not right. You can’t just ditch me.”

“Watch me, Princess.” he chuckled, sneered, and bared his yellowish teeth at you like a dog. He gestured with the gun in dismissal and rested his free hand on his hip after flinging his coat back. “Now get!”

“I don’t know where to get.” you whine and curl your fingers in air quotes in a brash display, pushing your luck and mocking his conceit because you were so desperate you took your chances. “I don’t even know where I am!”

He just snorts at you, unbothered and uncaring, and proceeds on his way with a flick of his wrist, refusing to entertain your tantrum any longer.

You didn’t understand how someone could turn down a person in need, it made no sense, the lack of compassion was incomprehensible and so…inhuman. How could a man be this purposefully ignorant of another’s struggle and choose not to do anything? You could never turn down a cry for help, not that you’d ever been faced with such a situation before, but you knew you wouldn’t. So what had this ghoul lived through to be so detached and devoid of sympathy? How much had he been hurt to abandon emotion entirely for the sake of a still mind and dreamless sleep?

What kind of world forced a man to abandon his humanity…

Fueled by frustration, you take a few steps after him, so hellbent on keeping the spotless image of your hero you had forced upon his shoulders that your rationality couldn’t break through your naivety. He couldn’t be this cruel after saving your life and not even bringing up the possibility of a reward. He had to have a soft spot somewhere, beneath the rags and the ruggedness and the hissy threats and brutish actions. He was still a person just like you even if the harshness of the surface had disfigured both his body and soul, you believed in him, you had to for your own preservation.

He heard you move, heard the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of sand, and snapped with a cornered animal.

“Oh I’ve had about enough of you!” he snarled and whirled around, covering the distance between you with three long, menacing strides. Your startled scream was cut short when he squeezed your neck and forced you down on your back like your resistance against him didn’t even exist. He caged you beneath his tights, keeping you in place as you clawed at his stone-firm grip and gasped apologies and pleas through labored breaths. The gun knocked against the side of your forehead to stifle you into stilling. It clicked threateningly as he applied pressure to the trigger, sunken eyes staring down at you without any hesitation. “First rule of the wasteland, Sweetheart.” he grumbled through gritted teeth and a stiff jaw, tightening his chokehold until your eyes rolled back and you burst into a fit of coughs. “Don’t trust nobody.”

Your mind raced fervently, battling against the lack of oxygen and trying to search for anything in your memory that could guarantee you even a chance at surviving his unrelenting assault. A sliver of hope as unconsciousness splotched the edges of your vision with viscous darkness. Your ears screeched as blood thrashed around in your head and face, bulging and boiling, trapped and unable to reach the rest of your writhing body. Your feet kicked and thrashed without results and no matter how deep your nails sank in his leathery skin he didn’t so much as flinch. Spit dribbled from the corner of your gaping mouth, the threat of the gun completely discarded due to suffocation and your lungs screamed and burned with the scarce air.

And he just watched you struggle with a solemn visage and jagged features.

“Say something! ANYTHING! THINK OF SOMETHING!!!”

“Water!” you croak and it was nearly unintelligible, but he understood.

“What?” he hisses and his grip on your throat slacks enough for you to finally suck in a full breath.

You gulp greedily at the dry, scorching air, groaning in octaves so low you couldn’t recognize your own voice. Supposedly having your neck nearly crushed like a rotten pencil did that to one’s vocal cords. You relax beneath him and hold onto his forearm for support as if he hadn’t been the cause of your near-death experience. You cling to him like a lost child and not his victim and it utterly baffles him. He tried to find a glimmer of hatred or disgust, anything that would deter him enough to just shoot you and get this overextended fiasco to an end, anything that would let him pull the fucking trigger. There’s nothing though, just desperation and confusion and fright and you had placed him as the only barrier between yourself and the rest of the world and even when he watched the life drain from you as you fought for breath you still didn’t even glare at him. You were just too pure, undefiled by the cruelty of the world you’d set off to venture and a tiny, once-dead part of him boiled at the incessant thought of you falling into the hands of a less kind man. What if someone else had found you first…

“There’s a storage safehouse. It was made for emergencies.” you gasp and clear your throat, pushing past the need to gag and looking up at him because you were taught that holding eye contact was a good thing when speaking about something of grave importance. He softened above you and leaned away and you took that as your cue to continue. “Those people, the ugh…the bad guys can’t get to it. It’s hidden and you need a Pip-boy to unlock it.” you gulp audibly and wince at the soreness before licking at your chapped lips and wiping the drool off your cheek. “It’s full of food and water…and stimpaks and bandages and…whatever you wish. You can take all of it just – ” a wave of trembles racked through you and you tried to suppress a whimper, but couldn’t. “ – Please, just help me get to it…I just want to go home, Sir…”

“Thought you said you didn’t know anything, Princess? You tryna lie to me now?” his chin dipped as he cocked his head to the side. His voice was flat, and his cold demeanor breaching through your dress and nipping at your insides until you were littered with goosebumps despite being pinned down in a desert in the middle of the day.

“I don’t…I’ve never been there – I was an archive keeper. I know everything in theory I just never knew the people except my parents…But I can find my way to it just by memory, I know where it is I just need to walk around a bit and – ”

“ – Stop yappin’.” he scolded, cutting your rant short before tucking away his gun.

He took a moment to mull over your words, still keeping you locked beneath him while you laid there like a corpse and prayed wordlessly as anticipation punched at your churning stomach. He rubbed at his chin, tongue twisting in his mouth as if he were tasting your proposition. His eyes dipped down to your scrawny form, done skimming over the barren desert sea and deciding this didn’t need much more contemplation. You got to go home and get off his back, he got supplies for a good few weeks, and a handful of raiders would end up dead. Simple. Easy. He could do that.

“Done deal.”

You nearly cried out in joy at his words.

Then he finally stood and gripped your upper arm before roughly pulling you to your feet and you nearly faceplanted in his chest at the force. He laughs as you flounder and fight not to trip, the baritone of his voice sending you spiraling into a pit of embarrassment and abashment because he was the first person you had ever properly met and you were making a fool of yourself. There was a feint, innocent need prickling at your heart, you wished you could’ve impressed him, and made a good first impression, but that had been thrown out the window in its entirety the moment he’d pointed a gun at you.

Now you were torn between needing him close because he was your only source of comfort and wanting to slap him because he was such a rude and foul man. Who even pointed a weapon at an unarmed woman?

He did…the bastard.

“Shoulda just started with the storage, Missy.” he teases as if he’d not nearly killed you a few minutes ago, all lighthearted and smirking. He holds your arm until you’re stable enough to stand on your own and you’re grateful even if a bit abrasive. “Coulda saved us a whole lot of tusslin’.”

“I would have, sir, but you – “

“ – Sssst!” he susses you like one would a mischievous cat and your lips are sealed in an instant. Then he nudged his head forward and readjusted the collar of his coat after releasing you. “Walk.”

Deciding you’ve run your luck dry for the day, you let go of a snarky remark hanging on the tip of your tongue and do as instructed, trudging through the dunes as the familiar sting returns to the bare soles of your feet. Now, however, you had a nasty gash on your ankle to boot and it didn’t help that it was slowly getting covered by specs of sand that rubbed excruciatingly against your exposed flesh.

God damn those roaches, they were a menace when they were tiny! Now? You mouthed at the recollection.

You bite your tongue to keep from whining when the hurt becomes too unbearable, the rest of the time you were heaving with an open mouth as the idea of licking at your sweat for some sort of thirst relief grew. You’d not known thirst until today, it was worse than any needle or medical practice your father had used on you, you couldn’t even swallow properly, the motion happened automatically and you cringed at the stickiness of your dried-up throat.

It was too hot and you were woefully unprepared to deal with it or any of the other discomforts tugging your nerves thin. It bothered you how unphased he seemed by the harsh weather, one glance at him told you he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was covered from head to toe in heavy clothes and strode with confidence and ease as if he were taking a walk through a park. You shrug without realizing it, too sunken into your head. Maybe he doesn’t have sweat glands anymore.

The sun was finally moving, sinking to the west and casting dramatic shadows over the desert. As his shadow grew, you found sanctuary in it from the still-sizzling rays and sighed in relief. It was a tiny drop of comfort, but it was enough to ease some of your strain. The muscles in your thighs were numb from overexertion for the first time in your life and you dreaded the cramps you’d have to deal with later on. The skin on your feet was smooth as butter from the intense exfoliation of walking through sand for so long, that was an interesting little fact you’d never heard of before. Dead skin cells could be removed by rubbing coarse surfaces over the body. Dope.

Locking yourself in the sanctity of your head and isolating your surroundings, you were numb and blind to how your legs shook. It wasn’t until you collapsed and tasted brittle little specs on your tongue that you realized you were lying down.

The ghoul paused and turned to look at you over his shoulder with profane boredom.

“Didn’t tell you to stop, Princess.”

“Mm…My legs don’t work.” you state before even realizing the cruciality of that bit of information. Your eyes pop open and the exhausted expression vanishes in an instant, you prop up on your elbows and stare back at the limp limbs. Panic ensues, pumping through you like a drug as a dry sob punctures your chest. “My legs don’t…My legs!”

“What in the hell!”

He’s on you in an instant, bent over and pushing at your shoulder until you roll on your back, the spaces where his eyebrows should be are locked together and he shushes your cries with a curt noise, but you’re too stressed to acknowledge it. There are no more tears left, your nose can’t even fill with snot from dehydration, and you end up a mess of ragged sobs and loud wails as you paw at your legs to wake them up. You double over and clutch at your upset stomach with a shaky hand as your teeth grit in dread.

If he hadn’t left you behind yet, he would now…

And you couldn’t even debate him on it this time, you wouldn’t even be able to stalk him if he tried.

“I can’t move them…” you hiccup. You manage to wiggle your toes but lifting your foot or bending a knee just doesn’t register, instead, you get a few twitches from the spent muscles and nothing else. The worst scenario plagues your sanity and you look to the ghoul for guidance because there is no one else. “What if – ”

“ – Shut the hell up!” he scolds and shoots you a brief glare before averting his eyes down as he cups a large gloved palm in the junction of your knee before lifting your thigh in uncharacteristically gentle examination. His thumb dips in your supple flesh, rubbing in circles, searching for something to hint him in on what the issue was, the concentration evident on his distinct features. Your cries die down to whimpers as he juts a finger against your lips. “You – “ he sighs and after a handsy inspection of your other leg, covers his eyes with his hand and presses down on his eyelids as the urge to hold you in another chokehold resurfaces. “ – You’re just fucking tired, you smooth-skinned little – ” he huffs and halts the slew of curses less you start crying even harder.

You don’t have time to react when he grips your sides and lifts you in the air before tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of tatoes. You wretch when his shoulder digs into your stomach and cough it off with arms flailing. Shaky hands clutch at the back of his coat as he secures one arm around your bare thighs and begins walking as if he’s not carrying another full-grown adult.

“Throw up on me and I will fucking blow your head off.”

He understood your sheltered way of thinking, but this was fucking unheard of. A newborn probably had more stamina than you, more strength too if your display of power earlier while he had you pinned down was the brink of your ability. You were so fragile it was annoying, you wouldn’t last a day out here, would’ve ended up as radroach food if he hadn’t stepped in. You were scrawnier than most people he’d seen and he’d seen plenty, and those who were smaller were on the brink of death from starvation. Who the hell went out in the wasteland unarmed?!

You did…fucking idiot.

“Thank you.” you mumble and audibly exhale, despite his threat, closing your eyes at his scarce kindness and smiling through bitten-down lips to cease your sobbing. You tried ignoring the fact that your butt was a few inches away from his face or that his hat grazed against your side with every step he took. Such bashful thoughts had no right to take up space in your head, but then again, he was your first friend and just having him around shot bolts of excitement through you.

Sure, he was a bit…rough around the edges. But he had saved you and he was carrying you back home. And he was a surface dweller who’d probably never known the comforts of the vaults so you couldn’t hold him accountable for being aggressive. Well, you could, and technically should, but you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you.

“Don’t thank me, Princess.” he snorts and pats your thigh in feign caringness. “You owe me supplies. I ain’t gonna let you cheat me outta that.”

“There’s a few of them, though…the criminals, I mean.” you mused over what to call them while chewing on your bottom lip, hanging off the shoulder of a ghoul in a thin sundress, carried through a desert, like it was just a normal day.

They had looked more like bandits, but what else were you supposed to label them as? The judgment system was a thing of the past, so what were these people considered now? Outlaws? You continue with a pang of concern, fearing for the safety of your rugged savior, too attached to the idea of companionship and just sick of seeing violence. You’d had enough for one day.

“Are you sure you can handle them? They didn’t seem very friendly.”

“First off, they’re called raiders. Everyone ‘round here’s a criminal now.” he laughed, tipping his head back and you feel the raspy chortle swell your chest.

You liked him happy, he was almost charming this way. Or maybe it was a “Rescue Romance” you were experiencing and the ghoul was just a crusty weird man who had saved you without considering what a pest you might turn out to be. You’d try to find that one psychology book and re-read it once you got back home just to make sure.

“Stop swooning!”

“Second, it’s my job. I’m a bounty hunter, Sweetheart. I kill people for a livin’.” he tilted his hollow nose to the side, addressing you properly as he spoke, and if you’d seen the gesture you would have appreciated it.

“Oh,…a bounty hunter? Like in the Old West then! I’ve read so much about that!” you squeak and perk up, wiggling in excitement as your face beams. Your calf twitched as some feeling returned to your limp legs and it only added to your brightened mood. Now you could actually feel the cool texture of his coat gliding against your skin.

You didn’t see his features grim or how his hat tipped to obscure sunken eyes and hide the brisk vulnerability swirling in them or the flash of regret, the pain, the little piece of humanity he didn’t even know he still had. His grip on your thigh tightened and you strayed to one side and glanced at the back of his head in question, expecting him to be more boastful about his job. Instead, he was mournfully silent and you feared you’d said something wrong, reopened an old would accidentally.

“Just like the Old West, yeah.” he nodded with a low grunt and you frowned. The words slip past his teeth with such dreadful familiarity that you can’t help the curiosity that would no doubt be your downfall one day. You press a tender palm between his shoulder blades, more for your sake rather than his, and pray he didn’t change his mind to drop you and leave.

You doubted books were a common luxury in this crumbling world, you also doubted the ghoul was a man of knowledge, he didn’t look like the type to read. Maybe there were still movie cassettes and TVs in good enough shape to be used and that’s how he learned of the old cowboy history. As slim as those possibilities were, they made more sense than him being alive before the apocalypse and still walking the earth in the present time. His distorted appearance didn’t give you any indicators of his age, so trying to guess was out of the question, but even then the war was over two hundred years ago. He couldn’t possibly…

Maybe you were simply overthinking, but the way he’d said it sounded like he’d lived through it and the longer you pondered over that the sharper your awareness became.

“How long do ghouls live, Mister?” you ask, uncertain of what he’d answer, but holding onto your speculations until he did.

“That the vault?” he shoots back, coming to a halt and straightening and completely sweeping away your inquiry.

It was a good enough answer and despite your gnawing curiosity, you decided not to press the matter further because you didn’t know how far his courtesy extended before he had his gun pressed to your temple again.

You hadn’t even noticed how much ground he’d covered with you slumped over him, everything around you looked the same and with fatigue fogging your lapse of time it wasn’t surprising. He was built for endurance or…mutated for it. What exactly was a ghoul, anyway?

You coil around him like a snake and he holds you secure as you clutch at his shoulder and turn until you can see what he sees.

The distinct metal of the vault door glinted in the dying sunlight, mostly concealed by debris and toppled over stone blocks.

Everything around you was bathed in warm hues of maroon and deep orange and for just a moment the world felt so peaceful. The sun had almost completely set, dipping behind golden dunes, the breeze hollered a deft, haunted tune and there was no noise besides you and the ghoul’s breaths. It was all so beautiful you wanted to cry, your eyes dampened as you soaked in the sight with a slack jaw. The magic of a sunset was so foreign it hadn’t even registered until you’d been made to look around instead of troubling yourself with the bounty hunter’s backstory.

How could something be so impossibly mesmerizing?

“Yeah…” you manage to answer, at a loss for words, yet still conscious of the question and your friend’s proven lack of patience. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He plops you down unceremonially without even asking you if your legs were back in order before grabbing your arm and dragging you along. You waddle after him like a duckling and clutch at his coat when your ankles intertwine and trip you in your stride. A startled noise escapes you, but you successfully manage to keep up with his hasty footing until he’s pulled you directly in front of the vault door, grumbling at your clumsy nature and lack of coordination. A few low curses are hung over your head but you don’t pay them any mind.

“Open it.” he demands and pushes you forward, then unclasps his gun and then another you hadn’t even noticed he had.

Whatever nonchalant demeanor you’d made him settle into was discarded for one so icy and sharp that you failed to understand how he just switched within a blink.

You straighten your dress with a huff, patting out the newly acquired wrinkles and trying to ignore the variety of stains. The Pip-boy is raised up as you maneuver around the plethora of menus.

The ghoul steps closer, stopping once he’s right behind you with a raised weapon and steady eyes glued to the entrance. The lid hisses and you recoil at the scratchy sound until you’re pressing back into him, he wraps an arm around you on instinct, then scowls and rips away as if burnt by a hot rod.

“Watch your step.” he hisses and points the guns at the entrance, treading cautiously, on high alert for any noise that echoes beyond the darkness. Once he’s glued to the vault door he beckons you with his hand and you quickly follow, feet pattering against the metallic floor until you’re closely pressed to his side and peeking from behind him.

It wasn’t scary when he was with you. You strangely didn’t fear the raiders lurking inside anymore, only worrying over the potential harm they might cause him. But he’d proven more than capable, you made yourself believe he’ll be just fine and so would you.

When nothing comes and he’s confident the threat lies further inside, he steps past the entrance.

“Stay behind me.” he makes a face at his statement, then glances back at you. “And don’t get in my way.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

<<< Chapter 1

Chapter 3 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

#the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series

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thebutchersbitch · 5 months ago

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18+

Cooper Adams x reader

Cooper uses your dirty panties to get himself off…

Requested by @rainingrabbits89-blog - thanks, enjoy! 💕

It began innocently enough. Cooper was just helping you sort laundry that needed washing, being a helpful husband and lending you a hand. But as he was going through the basket that contained clothes from the bedroom, he caught the damp texture of something slick on a piece of fabric. Pulling it aside, Cooper saw that it was a pair of your panties he’d felt. They were a simple design, nothing that would be considered ‘sexy,’ by most. But to Cooper, they were the hottest fucking thing he’d seen all day. Because inside the panties, the crotch was saturated with a slick substance he recognized immediately…it was your cum.

Cooper tucked the panties into his pocket before you could see, then continued to help you sort the laundry as usual. That night, he waited till you were asleep before sneaking off to the bathroom with the little treasure he’d acquired earlier. Cooper removed the panties from his pocket and studied them. Anticipation built inside him; something about what he was doing felt ‘naughty,’ in a way that excited him. Cooper felt like he was getting away with some kind of deviant behavior, that if you knew he’d stolen a pair of your dirty panties to ‘play with,’ you’d absolutely tell him he was being a bad boy…

Cooper stretched the fabric around his hand so the crotch was flat against his palm, wet-side facing up. He rubbed his thumb over the slippery dampness at the fabric’s center. The wet sound it made being moved by his touch went straight to his cock, twitching against the inside of his jeans. Cooper moved a hand to his crotch, cupping the outline of his cock while massaging his thumb in a circle over the wet center of your panties.

The slick sounds increased as Cooper added pressure to the slippery cum inside your panties, his thumb spreading it over the fabric from top to bottom. He was half-hard now, just from playing with your cum. Cooper was taking his time, savoring this feeling of doing something taboo. Even though he literally kidnapped, tortured and murdered people, what he was doing right now with your panties in secret somehow felt naughtier than any of the actual crimes he’d committed.

When he didn’t think he could deny himself any longer, Cooper chose to relieve his aching cock, which by now was straining against his jeans. He jerked down the zipper and pulled out his cock, using some of your slick on the panties as a lube to stroke himself with. Cooper lifted the panties to his face, clutching them to his nose and inhaled, deeply. The scent of you was intoxicating, your pheromones sending a surge of pleasure through Cooper’s body that had his cock plumping inside his fist.

He closed his eyes and imagined your cunt in his face, stroking himself with his nose pressed against the wettest part of your panties. Every breath that left his nostrils warmed the fabric, further enhancing your scent and the illusion that your cunt, rather than your panties, was what Cooper’s face was nuzzling into. His lips were parted, his breath increasing. He let his tongue sample your cum inside the panties, your flavor simultaneously musky and sweet on his tongue. Cooper groaned into the piece of fabric clutched to his face, feeling like a total pervert and loving every second of it. Knowing that at any moment, you could walk in and catch him in the act excited Cooper. You might tell him how gross he’s being, that he’s misbehaving. He wanted you to scold him, to tell him what a bad boy he is, so desperate to come that he’d literally lick your dirty panties to get himself off…

Cooper could feel himself getting close, so he moved the panties from his face and wrapped them around his cock, the slick side against his skin. He resisted the urge to moan out loud, worried of actually waking you and spoiling the ‘suspense,’ of possibly getting caught. He tugged his cock aggressively, his fist wrapped tightly around the panties that sheathed him like a warm, wet little cunt in his hand. Cooper grit his teeth together as he came, filling the soft material in his fist with semen, sweat running down his forehead as he watched the fabric stretched over his tip darken as his cum emptied inside it.

Cooper sat down on the closed toilet seat, his breath coming in heavy waves, holding the wet mess of fabric in his hand as he sat there, thinking of you. When he’d collected himself enough to stand, Cooper balled up your ruined panties and tossed them into the waste bin under the sink. He unrolled some toilet paper and put it in the bin on top of the soiled fabric, hiding the evidence of his self indulgence. He stepped into the shower to rinse himself off, then climbed into bed beside you to sleep.

#trap 2024 #trap movie #cooper adams #cooper adams trap #josh hartnett #cooper adams x reader #the butcher #cooper adams x you #cooper adams smut #trap cooper adams movie #josh hartnett trap #cooper adams x y/n #josh hartnett cooper adams #trap cooper adams

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alexxncl · 9 months ago

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masterlist | drabbles/hcs

so we all know the boys have familiars, right? idk if i'm blanking ot stupid or just don't remember, but i literally don't know what more than half of them are 😭

lucifer has peacocks ?

mammon has his crows

levi has lotan...i think

satan ??

asmo ???

beel has flies ig ????

is belphie's a cow ?????

like was this ever mentioned bc i feel like i'm losing my mind

ok but imagine a big ass peacock following you around in the human realm, but you're the only one who can see it bc of your pact with lucifer. like you're out with your friends, and then the bitch pops up out of nowhere and you have to act like nothing's happening

mammon's crows would always find a way to perch up on your shoulder or your forearm or your head. you'd wake up to them standing on your nose or your chest with a little note or smth. and mammon wouldn't even have to tell the crows to follow you, they'd do it on their own bc they love you like he does and they hate seeing their demon's favorite human being lonely

lotan...terrifying in theory. but i feel like he's just a big puppy idk. just give him treats and a note for levi and he'll cooperate. there should be some kind of spell to make him portable so he could follow you around like a tiny snake, or erap himself around your shoulders or arms or smth

maybe satan has a bird too? he's technically very intertwined with lucifer given the circumstances of his birth (are the feathers on his boa from the wings lucifer ripped off??? more on this here)

maybe asmo's is a snake. yk how the serpent tempted adam and eve or whatever. temptation and lust go hand in hand, i think it'd be interesting if his familiar had some kind if symbolic attachment to lust or temptation. what other animals could it be??

accidentally swatting one of beel's flies without realizing and seriously injuring it (idk i feel like they cant die easily) and then beel being all sad when you come back like "i just wanted to make sure you were ok 🥺"

but a cow ??? i feel like that'd be more annoying than anything 😭 getting whipped with its tail on accident and your friends looking at you like you're insane for flinching and jumping out of nowhere. or waking up to the thing mooing in your face

UPDATE i now know satan's familiar is a unicorn and asmo's is a scorpion

a unicorn following you around would be hilarious but also surreal ??? like imagine almost being late to work or an appointment and then satan's unicorn pops up out of nowhere and just flies you to your job sndhdjdhh

idk about y'all but the idea of scorpions scare me...i feel like asmo's would be cute tho. like a tiny, bright pink scorpion with a bedazzled tail that protects you from creeps whenever you're out partying or bar hopping with your friends. it'll stab them with its tail and the weirdo will leave you alone

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dancingtotuyo · 10 months ago

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9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another.

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved.

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway.

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her.

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away.

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven.

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another.

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either.

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning.

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose.

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel.

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing.

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult.

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him.

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?”

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler.

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep.

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes.

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder.

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming.

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-”

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you?

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other.

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now.

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm.

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.”

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him.

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt.

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…”

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster.

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice.

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body.

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain.

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first.

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says.

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table.

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever.

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips.

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons.

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you.

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says.

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it.

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it.

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say.

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent.

“I told Tommy today.”

You nod.

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him.

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that.

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read.

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.”

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #hbo tlou #woman (joel miller)#woman (joel’s version)#woman #pedro stories #pedrostories #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal characters

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megalony · 1 year ago

Text

IV Injuries

This is a new James Wilson (House MD) imagine that I hope you will all like, any feedback would be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) helps the team look after a patient who takes a shine to her, but when she gets injured, it's her husband's turn to take care of her.

Enjoy.

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A rush of adrenaline sparked through (Y/n)'s stomach when she walked into the cafeteria and her eyes immediately landed on a familiar face. Coffee in hand, (Y/n) made a beeline towards James and let her fatigued frame flop down in the seat next to him.

She saw the way he tensed for a brief moment before he realised who it was plonking down next to him, and a soft smile pulled at his lips.

He watched her set down her take out cup of coffee before she turned towards him, curling her hands around his upper arm before she let her forehead fall onto his shoulder. He leaned back in his chair and pressed his lips against the top of her head, moving his hand to card his fingers through her hair for a few moments.

He hadn't seen her since they arrived to work this morning and subsequently parted ways to their different departments. James knew (Y/n) was supposed to be working in A&E today, but something told him she hadn't spent her morning there after all.

"Dare I ask how your day's going?" Eventually he turned his head back and took a bite of his sandwich. Lunch breaks weren't very long when they both worked in a hospital and he had skipped breakfast.

"House had a patient in A&E who took a shine to me… to cut it short, I've spent all morning with House."

(Y/n) was no stranger to Gregory House, she knew all his quirks and his strange ways and medical practices. But actually working with him was a lot different to having him come by her and James's house or drag them out for poker night. It didn't help when all his assumptions turned out to be wrong and no one had any clue what was happening to the patient.

When the patient- Adam- let (Y/n) take his blood, run urine samples and give him overall checks, but then wouldn't let House's team do anything, House dragged her from her post and back to his department for the day- or the foreseeable future depending on what was wrong with Adam.

Staying back in A&E would have been a lot more preferable to working under House, but (Y/n)'s dedication was to the patient and she couldn't leave him arguing and fighting with Cameron if he would cooperate just fine with her.

"Hm, if you're working with House you need to eat something." James pushed the other half of his sandwich towards his wife, raising his brows when she tried to shake her head. "Eat, you can't survive on coffee."

The look in his eyes made (Y/n) relent and take the sandwich, a grateful smile on her lips as she mixed some sugar into her coffee. House wasn't easy on breaks, not even lunch breaks or a ten minute breather to get a drink but (Y/n) had scampered off while the patient had visitors so she could refuel on some strong, sugary coffee. And James knew what it was like for those who worked for House, he didn't want (Y/n) becoming like them, tired and strung out and lacking a much needed rest.

"Do you think if I went back to A&E, House would come and drag me back?" It was tempting to just head back to her original post and if anyone asked, she was just needed on a consult or to help calm down a patient. No one asked questions when House walked in demanding. But if she went back and Adam continued to prove difficult, the team would most likely come looking for her and beg her to come back and help.

"Most likely. If he gets too annoying just go hide in my office."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) kept one arm looped around James's upper arm and leaned her cheek on his shoulder while she took small bites of her sandwich. She would prolong lunch as much as she could and scrape together as much time with her husband as possible before she had to go back to the team.

But it was comforting to think that if House got too demanding or she was fed up being ordered around by him or the team, she could just sneak across to James's office and hide out there. She knew if she only asked, James would take her with him to any consults he had and just say it was for training or to have a calming female presence in the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) ran her fingers through her hair while she finished writing up her notes, leaning against the nurse's station. It was almost the end of her shift and she didn't care what House said, she would be leaving on time today. She wasn't technically part of his team so he couldn't force her to extend her shift and help.

She could barely contain her relief and excitement at the thought of leaving and heading home with James. But the satisfaction that was dwelling in her stomach slowly changed into dread when she looked down behind the counter she was leaning on and saw a flashing red light.

There was a code on room 107. Adam's room.

She thought about turning and running, James's office was only round the next corner, she could make a break for it and hide away in there so she didn't have to deal with this code.

(Y/n) had already taken three blood samples, a scratch test to see if he was allergic to anything. Checked his eyesight, set him up on three different antibiotic drips and done a lumbar puncture. And each time she did something new, Adam would grow continuously distressed, even when (Y/n) was the one doing the test. He was paranoid about something and he didn't want any more tests being done on him when he didn't understand what they were for or how they would help.

He had even started to get distressed when (Y/n) left the room, demanding to know where she was going and why she wasn't staying. It made her feel guilty even when she had no reason to, she felt like going to get a drink or going to consult with the team was almost a bad thing.

When the code continued to flash and a distinct crashing sounded, followed by Adam's high pitched shouting, (Y/n) sighed to herself.

She gathered what little strength and willpower she had left and sped down the hall towards Adam's room.

He was no longer sat up in bed, but rather stood near the window with what could only be described as fright written across his face. His pupils were blown wide and his breathing was erratic and he was holding the IV hook in front of him like the tall metal pole would provide some sort of cover or protection. He was glaring at Cameron, but when (Y/n) walked into the room, she swore his lip curled into a snarl in her direction.

"Adam, you okay? What's wrong?" Her eyes darted between him and Cameron, needing to know the situation since it was clearly escalating fast.

"She's trying to poison me."

"He needs an MRI, his liver is failing and he won't let me give him a sedative." Cameron moved her hand near (Y/n) to show the needle she was holding that contained a sedative. She knew Adam wasn't calm during any procedure and thought if he was sedated he would be a lot calmer and would let them do the scan but he wasn't having any of it.

"Adam, will you let me take you for the MRI? If your liver is failing we need to know why so we can help you."

(Y/n) tried to take a few steps closer to him but he only moved the IV line again so it was right in front of him and he was backed up towards the window. This wasn't just panic or paranoia, this was some sort of psychosis for him to believe they were going to hurt him. He had come to A&E willing and ready for help and now he believed they were here to hurt him.

"She wants to kill me, everyone does! I'm not doing anymore stupid tests. You hear me, none."

"Then will you get back into bed so you can rest?" If he wasn't going to cooperate then he may as well sit back down and try to calm down until they could figure out their next steps.

"So you can tie me down? No." He tutted and laughed cynically but the look in his eyes was manic. Despite their yellow undertone and blown pupils, his eyes were jittery and full of panic. Matched with the way he was jumping from foot to foot, ready to charge at any given moment, showed he was very ill.

"Adam, what do you want from us? If you won't let us help you and your liver fails, you could die." Cameron's words were meant to be reassuring but they had no effect on him.

He wasn't leaving them many options if he wouldn't go for the scan and he wouldn't even sit down on the bed and try to talk this through. They needed to sedate him and find out what was wrong before the mysterious illness destroyed his liver and killed him.

"You're just trying to scare me so I'll let you hurt me but I won't do it-"

"Cameron can find someone for you to talk to, you could speak to Doctor House, or the dean of medicine. And while she does that, you can sit in the chair over there and I'll wait with you. There's nothing on that chair that I could tie you down with and I don't want to do that Adam."

Looking to her right, (Y/n) locked eyes with Cameron and nodded at her to get her to agree. It was the only thing they could do that didn't involve pinning Adam down and sedating him so they could run their tests and prevent him from harming either himself or one of them. He hadn't met Cuddy yet, she could talk to him and give him the reassurance he needed whereas House's methods wouldn't be as gentle if Adam wanted to see him again.

When he didn't back away or start to scream, (Y/n) slowly took tenative steps towards him with her palms open at her sides to show him she had nothing to hurt him with. She wasn't trying to trick him or harm him or upset him, she just wanted to help him.

Cameron stepped over the threshold, about to go off and find Cuddy when a tortured sound left Adam's lips and he lunged.

He pushed the IV to one side and latched his fingers around (Y/n)'s throat tight enough to instantly cut off her air supply and send her stumbling backwards in shock.

Her hands came up to latch around his and she dug her nails fiercely into the back of Adam's hands to try and get him to relent but he was shaking with rage, too far gone to care or understand. The veins in his neck were throbbing and she could hear his teeth grinding down together as he forced her backwards until her lower back bashed into the bedframe.

She wanted to scream from the pain in her back and neck but all she could do was open her mouth and gasp while her eyes snapped closed and tears rolled down her cheeks.

He leered over her, snarling and spitting until a look of shock overwhelmed him and he suddenly let her go.

(Y/n) slumped down to her knees, croaking and gasping for air but she managed to look up through her tears. Cameron had given him the sedative while his back was turned towards her.

Grabbing up at the bedframe, (Y/n) used it to hoist herself onto unsteady legs but she wasn't quick enough to stop Adam from lashing out lashing the back of his hand across Cameron's face. The force sent her stumbling back and once she was off him, Adam backed away from both of them, shaking on his feet when his vision started to blurr.

(Y/n) wanted to speak, she wanted to tell him to calm down and sit down before he fell and ended up hurting himself. It was too late for him to panic and rage now because the sedative was going to come into effect within a minute, if not less. He was only going to end up in more distress and pain if he didn't try and listen and stop his tantrum of rage. But she couldn't speak.

Her throat was coarse and dry and her lungs were burning like they were on fire. She needed a drink, she needed to sit down and clear her foggy head.

"Adam!"

(Y/n) was in too much of a daze to realise what Adam was doing and Cameron wasn't quick enough to reach him before he lashed out.

His hands grabbed the IV pole and as quick as anything, despite his blinding rage and foggy mind from the sedation, he swung the pole. The thin metal caught the side of (Y/n)'s head like a beam of lightning striking her down and sent her to the floor in one swoop.

Everything turned to static in her ears and she didn't feel herself collide with the floor, even the pain she expected to feel in her head wasn't there. All she felt was numb as a sheet of blackness dwelled in front of her eyes, despite (Y/n) knowing she was still somewhat conscious.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there before her mind rebooted itself and everything came back to her in a slow, awkward order. The bright lights beaming down on her made her squint and blurred her vision into blobs of grey and yellow. Cameron's panicked voice and the sound of someone else saying her name came flooding through her ears like distant voices carried on the wind from far away. She could barely feel hands rummaging over her skin, trying to check her injuries and move her so she was lying on her back instead of her side.

But when the pain came back, it hit her like a train.

Her head felt like it had swelled ten times its size and the whole left side of her skull was on fire. She could feel each blood vessel throbbing in her head and pounding to the area that hurt the most. She could feel agonising tendrels of pain crawling along her head like snakes tracing all across her head. And thudding along with the blinding, splitting bolts in her head, her neck was aching and pulsing like it was starting to swell, but maybe that was just her imagination.

She didn't realise her hand had moved towards her head until her fingertips ever so gently grazed the sight of the pain and she coiled her hand back with a screech.

"(Y/n), can you hear me?"

"Hm," (Y/n) let Cameron and the other nurse in the room gently sit her up and let the blood drain back down from her head to the rest of her body.

"I should take a look at that for you," Cameron reached over to try and inspect the wound but (Y/n) caught her wrist before she could and threw it back at her. She didn't want Cameron or anyone else trying to patch her up.

With the help of the nurse, (Y/n) grabbed her shoulders and slowly fumbled up onto unsteady legs that were trembling and buckling beneath her but she forced them to stay upright. She needed to get out of here. Adam needed his MRI and (Y/n) wanted to be as far away from him as possible because this wasn't his fault but her anger was already being directed towards him and that wasn't right.

"(Y/n) where are you going, you need to be examined-"

"I- I'll find James."

(Y/n) didn't want anyone else but him. He was more than capable of examining her head and stitching it up, if indeed the wound was bad enough to require stitches. She didn't want anyone else watching over her or touching her. She just wanted her husband.

Besides, the sedative wouldn't last forever and with Chase and another nurse already in the room getting Adam hoisted back onto the bed, they would need to take him quick for his MRI. They had to be fast so they could start treating him before he woke up and started another fight.

Everything inside her told her to cradle her head, touch the wound or apply some sort of pressure in case the bleeding was substancial, but she couldn't. Touching it would cause blinding pain and she didn't need the added pain or stress or the threat of passing out, not until she had located her husband and was safely sat down with him.

(Y/n) didn't know what to do with her hands so she stuck with rubbing at her bruised neck and using her free hand to scale the wall and keep herself upright.

Her feet were bending and scuffing beneath her and her jelly legs were barely moving forward but at least her vision wasn't blurred anymore so she could see where she was going. It also meant that she could see the odd looks she gained from colleagues she passed and she adverted her eyes to the floor while she reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner.

Thank god James's office was close by.

Reaching his office struck a knife into her gut when she realised he could easily be examining, treating or consulting with a patient right now and therefore not be in his office. She would have to find someone to page him if he wasn't in and sit waiting in his office. Hopefully her minor wound wasn't extensive and would be fine if she waited a while for James.

Relief had never felt so good when she weakly tapped her knuckles on the door and heard a polite 'come in' from the other side.

"James, hun, it's me."

"Hi sweetheart. Did House actually let you leave on time?" James glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist before he glanced over at (Y/n) who quietly shut the door behind her before she walked over to him.

The smile on his face slowly started to fade when he took in her state; trembling limbs, unsteady steps, shallow breaths and blown pupils.

"Are you okay?" He turned his chair to the side when (Y/n) advanced towards him behind the desk and his eyes widened when she wasted no time in sitting down on his lap and curling her arms loosely around his neck. But it was the fact that she wasn't looking at him that put him on edge. That was, until his eyes raked over her face and noticed a large gash on the left side of her head that was oozing blood into her hair. "What happened?!"

His hands cupped her face in an instant and carefully turned her head to the side and tilted her chin down so he could get a better inspection of the wound.

"Sweetheart what happened?" His thumb brushed across her cheek but his eyes were focused intently on her head. It didn't look bad enough to require stitches, thankfully, but it still looked bad.

"House's patient had a psychotic episode. He caught me with the IV pole."

(Y/n) could feel the storm raging inside her head but when James went to touch the wound, she cried. Her fingers scratched into the back of his neck and her eyes screwed shut as she tried to compose herself and stay still so he could take a look.

"Christ, he took a good swing to do this… what else did he do?" His eyes scanned down (Y/n)'s face and stopped over her neck that was starting to bruise and turn a nasty shade.

"Nothing,"

"Yeah, that looks like nothing," There was a knowing look in his eyes and the way he pursed his lips told (Y/n) he wasn't going to push the subject but he wasn't happy about any of this either. He could easily see what had happened but if she wasn't talking about it then it wasn't something horrid or as bad as he would first assume. "I'll go grab something to patch you up."

He trailed his hands down her sides until they landed firmly on her hips and he gently manoeuvred her off his lap so he could stand up. There was nothing in his office he could use to clean the wound, he didn't usually have accidents in here and considering he worked in a hospital, there was no need for equipment in his office.

To (Y/n), it felt like James walked out the door and then straight back in again, she barely dropped her head into her hands before he was back in a flash. Maybe she did get a concussion; the whack must have been harder than she thought.

"(Y/n)… (Y/n)." James crouched down beside the desk and rubbed one hand over (Y/n)'s thigh while the other cupped her face and tilted her head to see if she had or was about to pass out. His voice was gentle but firm and (Y/n) managed a small groan as a response but she could feel herself smiling when his fingers moved to her pulse.

Her eyes followed his finger from left to right without him needing to tell her, she watched closely and continuously until he was satisfied she was able to focus and wasn't at risk of passing out.

"Can you stand, I need you on the couch?"

"Yeah," Her hands locked on his outstretched arms and she was grateful when he let her lean her weight onto him while he guided her over towards the couch beneath the window.

The relief washed over (Y/n) instantly when she sat down and let herself slump into the cushions. She wanted to tip her head back and go to sleep but she forced herself to keep her neck straight and her head up so James would be able to see what he was doing to patch her up. He sat on her left side, smiling when she reached across to hold his thigh.

"This will sting,"

(Y/n) tried to brace herself but just the feel of the cotton wool dabbing at her head made her go dizzy and sent her stomach reeling. She resorted to closing her eyes and squeezing James's leg until her nails were almost merged into his skin and her neck started to shake from how tense she held herself.

James was careful dabbing the antiseptic across the wound before he held some gauze gently to her head to stem the last of the blood. When he was certain the bleeding had stopped, he cleaned the rest of the blood from the side of her face and the little bits that had dribbled down into her hair.

"You don't need stitches thank God, give it ten minutes and I'll get you a cold compress. Do you feel sick?" He didn't dare put a compress on her head now in case it gave her shock or made her blackout. When he knew she had calmed down and relaxed, he would find a compress to stop any swelling and relieve a small amount of pain she must be feeling.

"A little,"

James briefly stood up and headed back to his desk to grab the small paper medicine pot and the paper cup of water he brought back with him. He took the liberty of stopping by the chemist on the way back up and grabbed some painkillers and something to reduce any swelling.

"Take these, they'll numb your head for a bit."

"Thank you,"

The cold water felt soothing on her sore throat that no doubt would be tender for the next few days but not as bad as her head was going to feel and she groaned just at the thought.

Once the tablets were washed down, (Y/n) slowly twisted round until she could lay down with the good side of her head resting on James's lap. She coiled her knees up to her stomach and took the liberty of grabbing his hand so she could bind his arm against her chest. It was soothing to feel his fingers raking through her hair and see him smiling gently down at her before she closed her eyes.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"Always."

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson imagine #imagine #wilson x reader #gregory house #house md #alison cameron

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mydeerbambi · 3 months ago

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DEJA VU

SUMMARY: it’s the last night of your spa vacation that you and sylus went on, purely on the basis of being ‘overworked co-workers’. reluctant to develop your relationship any more with him, your spa attendants seem to notice a bubbling romance, even though you don’t see it yourself.

pairing: sylus x fem!reader word count: 2.7k

NOTES: - basically I had a dream of an (almost) intimate spa session with sylus and i don’t know why LMFAO. i wanted to elaborate on it but i’ve only seen edits and have never actually played the game so forgive me if i get anything wrong personality/lore wise!! (or otherwise just too vague) - i’m not really too comfortable writing smut rn so i guess the end is left up to the imagination (apologies) - kinda my first fic so criticism is always welcome! - the attendants are just random ass characters i came up with on the spot (bare w me) - sylus is hot as shit.

----------

Your vacation bedroom was colder than usual. After a while you concluded that the resort staff had just forgotten to turn the heating on, but it also could have been the impending feeling of nausea and deja vu that had crashed over you multiple times within the past ten minutes.

Sylus was the first person in a long time that you had to cooperate on a mission with. After the hurt and betrayal of the last partner you worked with a few years ago, a woman you considered your closest friend, the only thing you forced yourself to do was take on missions that only required one agent. That was until your mentors proposed the biggest gang takedown of a lifetime. You were excited, which was unusual for you, until you realised you had to cooperate with Sylus, a powerful man within your sector, though equally as skilled as you. The shell you encased yourself in against him during your training together was rock solid; the only intention you had was to perform the takedown successfully and move onto your next mission. Though, Sylus seemed to have other plans: perform the takedown successfully, just like you, while simultaneously trying to break down your shell as much as he could. To say the least, he was intrigued by you. Entranced by you. He wanted to know who you really were so he made it his prerogative to do so.

You, while doing your best efforts to avoid phatic communication, couldn’t avoid your unconscious mind taking over. It was only two days after meeting where your lust got the better of you, dreaming about the most romantic scenario of your life with Sylus, before it abruptly ended with heavy breathing and waking up in an uncomfortable cold sweat. Over time, you began to realise that you did actually enjoy his company, though at this point you were way too far into keeping up an image of wanting nothing to do with him. Little did Sylus know that he had already pretty much destroyed your shell and your core was just within his grasp.

So why were you sitting on the edge of your bed in a towel, fidgeting with the skin by your nails with your mind zoned out, watching the minutes tick by on the clock of your bedside table? Because everything that occurred in the past fifteen minutes had all happened exactly as they were in the dream, from the time of day, the organisation of your shared bedroom, all down to the thudding of Sylus’ feet on the floor as he paced around the room in his towel, preparing himself for his final spa session.

The vacation you were on was advertised as a couples getaway, though Sylus knew you were pretty adamant on not having any spa sessions together. So why did you ask him to come with you? Because by the gods and all possibilities in the universe, Sylus was the only person you knew who was available. It seems that going through the stress of completing a hard mission also comes with the benefit of a pretty long break from working.

‘Are you okay, y/n?’, you hadn’t even noticed that Sylus’ footsteps around the room had stopped. He was now sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, an expression like a lost puppy when you turned to him, scanning your face as he desperately tried to figure out what was wrong.

‘I should b- I mean I am’, a pathetic attempt at hiding your fear, truly. There’s no chance he’d leave you alone now.

‘I've not recognised you all day, y/n’, he said in that soft tone of his. ‘Is there anything I can-’.

You cut him off by turning away from him in shame, fighting the war in your mind of whether to tell him the truth or do your best attempt at a lie that he could see through better than a glass window. Taking in a deep breath, you stood up, facing him as he looked up at you. Even after all this time you still found it hard to make eye contact with him.

‘I had a dream’, you started, ‘a few months back’.

‘Hm?’, he questioned. ‘Was it a pleasant dream or a bad one?’

You met his eyes reluctantly. ‘You were in it’.

He relaxed slightly. ‘Well it must have been terrifying in that case’. His humour irked you but you had to admit he did make you laugh.

‘You know what, just forget it’. You were already regretting the conversation as soon as you opened your mouth, ‘it’s not important’.

He stood up, height surpassing you as he held your hands softly, drawing circles into your palms with the tips of his thumbs. ‘It’s you, y/n, it must be important.’

His reassurance really was effective on you.

‘You know how sometimes you'll dream things and they actually happen?’. You were trying to figure out what you could possibly say to not sound crazy.

‘I suppose, it happens quite rarely’.

‘Everything that happened in that dream has all happened in these past few moments, exactly as they were’.

Nope, still crazy.

‘Well if I was in it then shouldn’t it have ended by now? I mean, we’ll both be on our own in a few min-’.

You hopelessly looked up at him, hoping he’d catch on.

‘Hm’, he stayed silent for a few seconds. It felt like hours. ‘How did the dream end, y/n?’.

‘It didn't have an ending, I just kinda woke up in shock’.

The changing lights on the bedside clock caught the attention of your peripherals as it switched to 9PM. By now, your spa attendants would be waiting for you for one last time.

You didn’t want to waste any more time over something that was probably all in your head anyway. ‘Listen, you don't have to say anything right now, but I'll give you the option this time’. You became a lot more nervous. ‘You can either spend your last spa session on your own.. or you can join me if you feel the need to’.

You faced your back to him, dismissive of whatever he was about to say next and opened the door leading to your designated spa cabin.

You managed to get one last glimpse at his defeated expression. ‘The ending of the dream is up to you, Sylus’.

-----

The thing that you assumed you’d miss most about the trip is the aroma of your spa cabin. For the times that you’d already relaxed in there, your designated spa attendants, Kliva and Whitney, would always make it smell like a deep mix of vanilla and cocoa butter; scents that you’d probably worship if they were gods. The routine was the same each time: you’d remove your towel, lower yourself into the warm water and spend around an hour there relaxing and chatting to your attendants, being offered silver-trayed fancy delicacies, massages or other things that made you feel like a pampered queen. This time, you had your shoulders massaged by Whitney, while Kliva asked you to smell interesting scents from different candles and oils.

‘Actually, you know what, try this one’, Kliva said, pulling a cylindrical tube from a case and lifting the contents up to your nose.

‘Lavender, hm?’, you replied as she twisted the cap back on the bottle. ‘The scent is strong but maybe if it was more subtle I’d like it more’.

‘That’s exactly what I was thinking!’, she replied enthusiastically.

‘The only thing I’m thinking is why that jerk of yours hasn’t spent a session with you yet’. You could feel the frustration within Whitney as she massaged your shoulders; a stern, professional grip, but definitely an angry one.

‘He’s not mine’, you laughed. ‘We came here as partners. My friend couldn't use her tickets and Sylus and I were the only ones who happened to be available. Nothing more'.

‘You know, y/n’, you looked up at Kliva as she set her box of scents aside, ‘there’s only so many times you can tell the truth before it becomes a lie’.

‘And what's that supposed to mean?’, you replied, slightly confused.

‘What I mean is that you’ve told us this story about you and him just being co-workers about a billion times but we’ve seen the way he looks at you!’.

‘He looks at me quite normally, thank you’.

Whitney tutted, ‘you know, for a spy, you’re awful at reading people’.

You turned around to meet her eyes in disbelief. You couldn’t tell if you should’ve been offended by her comment on your years of studying the psychology of your enemies or just simply hear her out.

You let her continue. ‘Listen, okay? When he looks at you it’s as if you’re the only woman in the world to him. The sparkle in his eyes when he sees you could be mistaken for the stars in the night sky themselves. You really don’t notice?’.

You thought of the fact that you only ever bothered reading the expressions of others if you knew there was a possibility they'd pull something on you in the next half second. A useful trick for dealing with the face of danger.

The face of love, however? You didn't really bother with that.

‘I don’t think we’ve had a couple in here with more chemistry than you two’, Kliva added.

‘You’re just saying that’, you dismissed their words of overly-sweet romance as you turned back around.

‘We are not!’, they dramatically shouted in concert. The laughter following from all three of you almost made you forget what you were talking about. You were definitely going to miss these two when you left.

After a short silence, Kliva blurted, ‘It’s your last time here! Are you sure he’s not going to accompany you tonight? Like he didn’t ask at all?’.

‘I mean, I gave him a choice. Whether or not he’ll accept it I’m not su-’.

Your words were suddenly cut off by a quiet knock at the door. In all your life a pit in your stomach didn’t form faster than that moment. While your body was overcome with fear, both women couldn’t help but unmask their giddiness as they looked at each other and rushed to the door. You weren’t sure Sylus even got a word in before either of them spoke.

‘It’s about time you showed up’, Whitney said, an attitude in her voice that could send even the strongest of men to the pits of shame. She opened the door wider so they both could usher themselves out. Kliva rushed to pick up her box beside you as she followed her partner out of the room. Leaving you both alone she whispered softly to Sylus, ‘be gentle with her’.

-----

As your spa attendants removed themselves skittishly from the room, while you were sure you heard slight giggles from both of them, you pushed yourself from the edge of the spa’s walls and gently walked towards the centre of the water, mentally preparing yourself for the events to come. The door clicked shut as Sylus stood a few metres behind you, his height towering over the edge of the coping of the spa’s rectangular shape. The presence of only him in here with you made you nervous. That, and the added fact you were facing away from him, unable to read his movements. As the water gently brushed your legs and lower back, you calmly parted the back of your hair in two, placing each section atop your breasts to cover them, cursing yourself that that was the only slight form of protection and decency you had over Sylus’ vision. As the silence seemed to grow, your eyes became heavy, focusing on the slight ripples and movements of the water while your ears focused on the padding of the raindrops outside as they landed on the wood of the cabin’s roof.

‘Am I expected?’, he asked you, his deep voice cutting through the silence that you were enjoying so much.

You knew the answer but remained silent, though you turned your head around ever so slightly to look up at him. The only thing his figure wore was a towel, draped perfectly across his hips, as beads of water highlighted parts of his hopelessly chiselled torso. You assessed him for a moment; everything about him was perfect. Your eyes made their way up to his face as he looked down at you. Everything about his gaze made you feel small, insignificant. Though to him, ‘insignificant’ was nowhere near the right word. Staring into his warm, crimson eyes for a few seconds, his face framed perfectly by wet strands of white hair, you decided to turn your head back around. Because at this very moment you wanted him to take control. Because this is the part where your dream ended and you woke up in a confused sweat a few months ago. Sylus took your gaze at him as an acceptance of his question, as you heard a light thud of his towel dropping to the floor in a pile.

The still movement of the water was slightly disrupted as he slowly walked down the submerged steps, lowering himself gently into the water, only about a metre behind you. He continued until he was only a few inches away, in which you could practically feel his energy radiate from his skin. His breathing was calm, giving you the sense of reassurance that you needed to tell your brain that you weren’t in any danger. You matched your breathing with his as best you could, calming yourself in the process. You could feel his gaze fixed on you, as if he had just captured the prey of a lifetime. Still, despite your newfound calmness, you found it hard to turn around, knowing that as soon as your eyes met he would finally be able to say he achieved his main mission: getting through to you.

His left hand cupped your upper arm ever so slightly, steadying you, as he used his middle finger on his right to lightly trace the scars on your back.

‘I didn’t know you had these’, he asked as you tried not to melt into his warm embrace and the touch of his fingers. ‘What happened? If you don’t mind me asking’.

There was no point in avoiding the personal questions he asked you now.

‘..Betrayal’, though you still hesitated, ‘..the reason I wanted nothing to do with you’.

The small amount of anger still left in your heart caused you to finally turn and face him, ‘..the reason you never gave up on your interest in me’.

Looking into his eyes this close made you feel even weaker as he finished your statement, ‘the reason I’m here right now, right?’. Now that you were this close, you figured out what your attendants were talking about; he really did have a sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you. His presence, paired with his low, breathy voice hypnotised you and the only thing you could do was nod weakly, shyly breaking eye contact with him as you focused on the smooth skin of his chest and shoulders.

His middle finger on his left hand traced up your left arm, making its way up across your shoulder and collarbone, finishing with brushing your hair away from that side of your neck down your back, exposing part of your chest to him, though now you felt more comfortable than ever.

‘At which part did your dream end?’, he asked, scanning your perfect body with his eyes.

Your eyes focused slightly at the door he came through a few metres behind him, ‘I guess when you came in’. His soft touch across your skin made your voice weak, as if your heart was caving into his presence, craving all of him.

‘So I still have the opportunity to decide whether or not to give your dream a good ending?’.

You nodded.

‘And if I decide to walk out, to leave the beautiful deer in front of me with nothing?’.

As you hesitated with the fear he wasn’t joking, his right arm snaked around your waist, his strength grabbing you effortlessly, lifting you up and positioning your hips slightly above his. You held onto his shoulders and arms for stability, looking down at him as you giggled softly, meeting his eyes with a slight smile. ‘Then I suppose all of your efforts would have been worth nothing’.

#sylus x reader #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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florenceafternoon · 5 months ago

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Featuring coffee shop, neighbours and historical AUs because everyone deserves to find their next comfort read.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

Provisionally Yours by snapslikethis

Lily Evans discovers she’s been married off to James Potter without her knowledge. She and the spoiled count (in whom she appears to have finally met her match) have three days, for better or worse, to decide whether to accept the contract. With her sister adamant to make her life miserable, and a husband who seems equally determined to repel her, what else can possibly go wrong?

I think this fic captures their inquisitive nature perfectly. Through their banter, you can see just how compassionate and selfless James is and how he can be very sincere despite his antics. Lily is described in canon as vivacious and this fic illustrates how her reserved nature dissolves when in good company.

Till Death Do Us Part (Let It Be Quick) by @wearingaberetinparis

“Till death do us part,” she concluded, all air sucked from her lungs. Her fate signed, sealed and delivered. As the priest spoke his final words, she found herself ensnared in her adversary's gaze, trapped by the weight of it, her mouth opening as she spoke under her breath - almost subconsciously: “Let it be quick.”

A Jily Arranged Marriage AU in which Lady Lily never imagined she would fall for the husband she was forced to wed. Inspired by My Lady Jane.

I'm so excited about this, you guys don't understand!! Mary's writing is always phenomenal but her historical AUs have a very special place in my heart

all the king's horses, all the king's men by @jilyss

As queen, Lily Evans faces the suffocating weight of isolation and loneliness that comes with the crown. The only constant in her life is James Potter, her loyal and ever-watchful royal guard.

Wizarding Betrothal by pasmosa

Lily’s parents arranged her marriage to a wizard when she was born, and sealed the deal with a binding magical contract! Nobody counted on Lily choosing not to cooperate! Someone’s heart will get broken. Will it be her own?

oops I did it again by Anonymous

Annoyance, a deep, visceral annoyance that only Potter seems capable of generating, stirs up within her. Part of her still wants to storm out and away from him, another part wants to smack that smirk off his face, and a third very secret part that should never have existed in the first place can’t stop thinking about that photo, about her mouth on his, about his long fingers rucking up the hem of her shirt.

If she leaves now, she reasons, he’ll have gotten the last say, and that’d be absolutely no fair.

So she stalks over, plants her hands on her hips, and looks up at him. “Alright, new deal,” she says. “One kiss — one real kiss — and then you get it out of your system.”

(Spoiler alert: Neither of them gets anything out of their system.)

It's got everything you'd want from a uni AU

Literary Sophistication by @andromedabooks

Bookstore AU where an English girl enjoys Great American novels and her date has correct opinions regarding film adaptations

Customer In Law by @annabtg

James Potter is young, handsome, the proud owner of a coffee shop, and tragically - according to his mother - single. In an attempt to stop her from trying to set him up with her friends' daughters, he decides to go along with his best friend's plan and recruit his regular customer Lily Evans to play the part of his girlfriend during his mother's birthday party. Of course, the fact that he’s got a huge crush on her is entirely irrelevant…

The amount of pinning in this...

Golden Lights by PotterandEvans (on ao3)

James Potter, competition-winning figure skater has a crush, a crush on the redhead that works at his favourite coffee shop. When he finds out that she also teaches children how to skate on the weekends, he finds himself on the rink to join her.

throwing chances (requires an ao3 account) by @theroomofreq

prompt: “I’ve spent the summer climbing through your bedroom window so no one sees, please won’t you give me a chance?”

Or the one where both of them are early birds but Lily needs coffee

A Cashmere Christmas Miracle by @oyprongs

"Lily doesn’t really have an excuse for why she does it. It’s completely unprofessional - not that that matters much at her workplace - and probably constitutes some form of light stalking. But the jumper’s been in the bin at work for weeks, and she’s tired of tossing it aside whenever she clears out the other clothes, and Mary’s on holiday so she doesn’t have anyone dropping in to say hi, and she has to stress this: Lily’s job is very, very boring."

or Lily finds a jumper at her work's lost and found and decides to text the number stitched to the label.

This fic read like a recount a friend would text me and I mean this in the best way

Can't you see (you belong with me) by Boggarts_butterbeer (on ao3)

"I love your eyes" she says it so softly, so earnestly and his heart absolutely melts. "It was you" she carries on, resting her forehead on his, "it was going to be you all along"

he's about to say something (and it isn't going to be complete mush) when the door bangs open and they turn to Effie holding a tray of biscuits, absolutely grinning from ear to ear shouting "Fleamont, Oi Fleamont get your arse up here it's happened! it's finally happened, Oh and bring the camera!" and behind him is Sirius, recording the whole thing doubled over in laughter, and lily flushed red, hiding her face in his chest as he groans

Or Jily muggle au inspired by the You Belong with Me music video because it is the best video of all time- Lily pines secretly whilst James pines not so secretly

Because at my core I'm a friends to lovers girl

Covet Thy Neighbour by @beedaily

There are lots of ways to introduce oneself to a new neighbour, but breaking into their flat, perhaps, is a road less travelled.

Reunion also by @ /beedaily

The last person Lily expects to see at her law conference is the first boy she'd ever kissed.

Shout Out To My Ex series also by @ /wearingaberetinparis

James and Lily work for Phoenix Radio, a radio station that finds its existence threatened by the successful Riddle Radio. When asked to brainstorm an idea for a new show, Lily comes up with a show in which two exes discuss the aftermath of their break-up. Obviously, so Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall decide, she and James are perfect to play the part. The only problem? They never actually dated. A fake exes AU that leads to so much more drama than you might expect.

A Jily Modern AU inspired by Rachel Lynn Solomon’s "The Ex Talk".

The ending was just perfect

I Spy, I Spy With My Little Eye also by @ /wearingaberetinparis

Potter. James Potter. It sounds like a joke. It most certainly isn’t.

A Jily MI6 Spies AU in which James Potter and Lily Evans attempt to take down Tom Riddle.

Too Young to Have This Kind of Epiphany by @tinyluminaryzombie

Lily's a badass legislative director at a climate non-profit. James is a sweet, funny, and gorgeous co-owner of Three Broomsticks, the cafe Lily's started visiting. They're kind of obsessed with each other (but also refuse to make a move).

her favourite regular by @arianatwycross

A little doe-mestic moment for our two love birds with a sprinkle of my favourite: coffee

The Phoenix: A Coffee Shop Story by hp_poppet_writer (on ao3)

Lily gets more than she bargained for at the new coffee place her roommate recommends.

Lily feels her mouth go dry. If this is the view, this tall, chiseled specimen with the perfect amount of scruff on his face, she would gladly drink a cup of the worst coffee in the world every day. Her caffeine-deprived, still-asleep, drooling brain manages to squeak out “coffee” as she continues to openly stare at him.

His smile turns into a smirk, hazel eyes lighting with a mischievous glint. He pushes his glasses up before responding.

my mind turns your life into folklore (i can’t dare to dream about you anymore) by petitecanard (on ao3)

Lily had not been the reigning belle for twenty miles around Cokeworth without learning to distinguish between a flirt and a man who was in earnest. She replied instantly: “I know very well that Lord Potter means nothing by his compliments! Indeed, I am in no danger of being taken-in like a goose. And I still think he is odious, and a toerag, and a bully, and – and everything of that sort!”

Or, when the impoverished Miss Lily Evans embarks to London to find a husband, she impetuously engages in a battle of wits with the eligible Lord James Potter.

Quintessential jily

moppet (requires an ao3 account) by @gryffindormischief

Sometimes it's the unexpected things you love the most (feat. singel dad James).

heuristic also by @ /gryffindormischief

Bad restaurants, texting, DDR, pet apartments, more texting, nachos, and bookstore dates, all normal in the early days of a relationship, right?

may i borrow some sugar by oneofthesirens

Lily sits up so fast she’s surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. She recognises him, vaguely, in that way that sometimes they pass in the street and awkwardly nod. He’s tall – really tall, and she definitely has not developed an obsession with that – and wears glasses that are either dorky in a cool way, or hipster in an uncool way. He’s kind of exactly her type which was the first thing Marlene had pointed out when she’d seen him in passing.

Her naked and, more importantly, oblivious neighbour spins around to grab something from behind him and Lily sees… well, everything. More than she wanted to and, at the same time, not enough at all.

So, she does what any reasonable, twenty-five-year-old girl would do; snatches her phone from the bedside table, pulls the duvet up above her head so her naked neighbour can’t see her looking, and texts her friends.

Or: Lily and James are semi-neighbours, somewhat acquaintances, and she might have hosted a pretend-party just to talk to him

The Return (requires an ao3 account) by cwannabe5 (on ao3)

When Lily returns to her old university town for a weekend reunion with her university friend group, she naively expects old feelings and relationship dynamics to stay where they belong: in the past. However, it becomes immediately clear to her that being drawn towards James isn't something she can run from forever, and in fact, if she can manage to admit it to herself, sometimes addressing the elephant in the room leads to a happy ending.

Also, (not so) reluctant bed-sharing.

Life and Lemons by @lovesickjily

Harry loves his parents dearly, but he would love it even more if they were together. He decides to play cupid in an effort to have a happy family.

#lily evans #james potter #lily x james #james x lily #jily #jple #alternate universe #jily fic rec list

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velvrei · 5 months ago

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◎— just watched the trap movie and i can confidently say that cooper adams talks you through it

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ihavemanyhusbands · 6 months ago

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SO ... i keep thinking a lot about the Ghoul, imagine him and the reader together on an adventure and her telling that she always watched Cooper's old films and that she was in love with him and that she would do crazy things to be able to spend a night with him (without knowing that Coop and the lovely Ghoul are basically the same person lol ) how do you think the dear reader would react when she found out?

Ooooooooh eu amooooo!!!! 🤭🤭

—————

“Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s better ways to try to get in my pants, if that’s what you’re doing right now…”

He scoffed, but grinned roguishly all the same. “Oh no, sweetheart, I ain’t lyin’ to ya. And besides, we both know I don’t even need to lie.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still not fully trusting him even if you found his adamancy interesting.

“Alright then, prove it,” you challenged. “That scene from The Man From Deadhorse, you know, my favorite one. Let’s see it.”

Cooper shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was the only indication that he was hesitating, not entirely wanting to relive it even if it meant proving something to you.

You raised your hands in mock surrender, grinning smugly. “You can even pretend I’m the bad guy, if that helps.”

He let out an amused huff and nodded, taking up the confident stance of the film’s hero. He looked down upon you as if he’d actually defeated you and had you at his feet.

“There’s an old Mexican eulogy… Feo, Fuerte y Formal,” he started off, and you froze on the spot. “Means you was ugly, strong, and had dignity.”

He unholstered his revolver and pointed it at you, his hazel eyes intense and severe.

“I’ll give you two out of three on that front.”

You stared at him as he stood there for another moment, gun wavering in the air between you. There was a taut line of tension between you that felt bound to snap at any second. Wildly, you even believed he might actually shoot.

Then suddenly, he put down his weapon and raised a hairless eyebrow at you. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage from adrenaline and elation… and you couldn’t help but feel stupidly starstruck all of a sudden.

“I-I don’t even know what to say,” you mumbled, your face heating up in embarrassment. “How did I never notice? Your voice is the same…”

He chuckled with smug satisfaction, holstering his gun. “How’s it feel knowing you’ve already fulfilled your fantasy, sweetheart?”

Your eyes glittered as you looked him up and down, looking for more clues of the man he was in the past. The chances of something like this happening was one in a million, so you knew you had to be the luckiest girl in all the wasteland.

But what you said was, “It feels like I’ve never wanted it more.”

—————-

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout fanfiction #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #cooper howard #the ghoul #mutuals <33

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khickuwa · 3 months ago

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Reasons Why I Think Jerome Adams is Oedipus. [CHAPTER 13 SPOILERS]

So in the recent events of Main Story 13, we see that Luke finally confronts Oedipus about the drug or, should I say "cure", to Luke's illness. I had my suspicions before, but we have incriminating evidence of this being true in this chapter. Let's go through the facts together:

Oedipus

There are things we know about Oedipus:

He has contacted two individuals within the Story; Skye Harper, the nurse who murdered both Tyson Turner and Gerard Boone's mother by injecting the NXX drug into them; and Luke, receiving an unknown drug with a note from Oedipus that says "try to live on" and meeting him under the guise of a Teddy Bear mascot, sending children to bid Luke his little cryptic messages.

Knowing these facts we can concur two facts from this:

Oedipus is someone who has access to the NXX drug.

Oedipus has access to the hospital to be able to sneak the drug into Skye Harper's hand and a part-time job as a mascot (or several) to be able to relay the message to Luke.

Oedipus knows a lot, he's always at the right place and the right time: about the NXX investigations and the whereabouts of the NXX team if he can figure out who Luke is and where he is.

The only person who would fit this criterion is a little freaky Where's Waldo ass mf with a ridiculous amount of part-time work he could probably use as covers aka Jerome Adams. (Seriously, it's like he knows to be at the right place at the right time every time.)

Here is his character description from the wiki:

Thus we can see that Jerome meets all the criteria because: 1. Access to the NXX Drug - "Jerome claims the Gladiolus Valley Research Center as his former employer", We have also seen several scenes of him previously in the Gladiolus Valley Research Center conversing with Wilson Surge,

2. Access to the hospital - "As a facilitator, he volunteered at various hospitals throughout Stellis." 3. He's aware of the NXX Team's presence and can be at the right time and place. Holding multiple part-time jobs such as a convenience store clerk and a food delivery service (and this time a bear mascot) gives him cover for his activities.

But the most incriminating evidence we have is actually within the exchange between Luke and Oedipus himself.

This is undoubtedly something Jerome Adams would do because: as established in the previous chapters, Jerome Adams works in a hospital and he has handled kids as well. This exchange coincides with all the facts previously mentioned. Ultimately, there's just too many threads that connect Oedipus and Jerome Adams together.

But why is he doing this? I can think of two reasons:

The reason why he is choosing to cooperate with Luke: In this chapter, we can see that both Oedipus and Luke have something to gain from this. Oedipus can run "clinical trials" for the NXX drug on Luke, and well... Luke doesn't have much of a choice here either, does he?

Despite Jerome freaky freaky ways, ultimately, I believe that Jerome has "good intentions" despite his very... twisted way about going about things. I can't wait to see what the new chapters have in store about is backstory and his ties with the NXX drug.

I think there's a reason why Jerome/Oedipus seems to always be hovering around the NXX team. Perhaps we're getting closer to the truth or perhaps he's trying to cooperate with us. But, I don't think Jerome/Oedipus is an enemy if anything, he's more like a third party that is working independently. I could imagine him working together with the NXX team (for a short while perhaps before they start getting at each other's throat again), or maybe even sacrificing himself in the end to ensure the NXX team gets to the root of the problem. That said, I have several other theories storming up in my brain regarding the NXX drug and how all the boys tie in all of this as well.... in another post.

#tears of themis #chika rambles #jerome adams is a FREAK

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wardensantoineandevka · 2 months ago

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I keep thinking about like, this post-game idea I had of Evka and Antoine at Halamshiral before the Orlesian loyalist court because it's, like, actually not a totally nuts concept and super interesting to work with politically as an idea the more I think about the state of Thedas.

Orlais is in a weak position at the end of the game. Even with the Blight fading and less of a peril and not as much of an immediate death sentence, it still exists in the interim and will likely need some managing in the short-term.

Orlais is going through a bit of a second civil war and refused to cooperate with anyone, leaving them out of the newly arising relationships throughout the continent. Ferelden allied with the Chasind and Avvar (at least during this crisis). The Free Marches unified. Eastern ships are protected from the Antaam by the Felicisima Armada. Though it is unclear how long it'll last, there's a spirit of cooperation between influential groups in the north, including between the Shadow Dragons and the Archon, the Crow Talons, Isabela and the Lords of Fortune, and the Wardens.

The Wardens are a major part of the reclamation of Minrathous, and they're a crucial part of the overall morale of Thedas. The Inquisitor's missives notes the way that the fall of Weisshaupt and the Warden's victory over the Blighted dragons have massive impact on the morale and emotional state of Thedas overall. Even as they remain few, and even as the First Warden alienated a lot of countries over the past decades, they remain influential as symbols.

Further, Evka and Antoine are consistently concerned about what is happening throughout Thedas. They choose to help Lavendel, a politically inconsequential village, because it needs their help, and they muster there. They send Wardens to the Free Marches and to Ferelden. They keep correspondence with Wardens in the catacombs of Minrathous about research and participate in the recovery of the city. Whether it is Treviso or Minrathous that falls to the dragon, they send Wardens and write extensively to the Crows or the Shadow Dragons, freely offering their knowledge and help. Evka and Antoine have laid groundwork to opening the door to rebuilding good faith with the people of Thedas that the Order lost over time in its secrecy and isolation. Despite their losses, in some areas, the Wardens are on better footing coming out of the game than they were going into it. And, under Evka and Antoine's leadership, the Order is moving toward a more hopeful and renewed purpose, especially if Antoine was supported in his research.

Evka and Antoine are not political creatures, and they seem largely uninterested in politicking. They're dedicated to their work and to their duties and responsibilities to serve the people and landscapes of Thedas, without preference for any above others. It's easy to imagine that the extent of their political maneuvering is solely in trying to facilitate that work. And, certainly, in accordance with that duty, they'd offer help to Orlais as freely and compassionately and in good faith as they do any and all other places.

Orlais does not wish to cooperate with others during this crisis. Obviously, for the purposes of this idea, they'd need to be open to working with the Wardens after rejecting all other cooperation. Perhaps it is the Wardens' role in the recovery of Minrathous and wanting that for themselves. Perhaps it is the Wardens beginning to establish themselves as well-connected in the new emerging situation. Perhaps it is that the throne of the Anderfels is weak, and leadership in the region de facto falls to the Wardens, and that does not seem to have changed. From the court's perspective, it might seem attractive to try to overlook Adamant and rebuild a working relationship with the Wardens and maybe attempt for an alliance in the west. Such a relationship might even indirectly reposition Orlais a little more favorably within the rest of the continent, given the Wardens' improving footing overall. It poses for the court an attempt to save their crumbling Empire without having to directly rely on another national power.

Evka and Antoine are not really people who care about official approval (see: their fraught relationship with the First Warden), and they will likely carry out their work around the court, if necessary. The court has little to offer them politically within the larger landscape of Thedas. The best they can offer, and why the Order generally bothers with politics at all, is the promise to NOT impede the Wardens' work within Orlais and allow them free movement within the country (see: the Fifth Bilght). That's something that might be useful to even less politically interested leadership like Evka and Antoine, however, this is dependent on the loyalist court reliably controlling movement within Orlais—which they do not at present. The benefits between both parties here is asymmetrical. Where the Wardens, specifically Evka and Antoine, have growing connections, and the ears of a lot of interesting persons of interest, the Orlesian court can't really even promise the little that Evka and Antoine would be interested in.

Socially, there is a little interesting tangle here in that Antoine, acting as second-in-command, is elven. Orlesian too, on top of it. Even under various states where Briala's influence in rule pushes for more progressive social rights for elves, the situation in Orlais surrounding that remains deeply fraught—and potentially one of the reasons a rebel faction broke away to ally with the Venatori. Courting the Wardens for larger goals with regard to political alliances and doorways to them to reposition Orlais within Thedas will require playing nice with Antoine, which might prove difficult for some, even among the loyalists. (Orlais will have the Wardens' help about the Blight regardless, due to Warden duty and all.) Add to that the fraught sociopolitical dimensions of meeting at Halamshiral itself, given that is where the court is sheltering.

Anyway, with all of these considerations in the minds of all players on the field, with the Wardens' strengthening footing and Orlais' weakening one, I think it'd be interesting and fun for me if Evka let Antoine, as her advisement, cheerfully—and purposefully—play the Game with all the direct bluntness of her warhammer. For how much longer is the Game going to serve you, anyway? It's what got you into this mess, non?

#this is a VERY long way of saying “Antoine can play the Game with the elegance of a sledgehammer if that's how he wanted to go about it #and the court is maybe in too disadvantaged of a position to really bite at him.”#DATV things #I considered throwing this into the tags but I won't bc it's actually just an extremely long fic idea musing

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