#Guys she has to wrap this up and go get stitches get out of the way.

[moonstruckme]

emt!marauders getting called to a halloween party bc your friend got injured in her drunkenness. you’re the one who called and took responsibility in the situation, so when they show up you’re there in like an angel or goddess costume or something ethereal and you’re caring so kindly for your friend and they’re like soooooooo in love. maybe you ride in the ambulance with her bc she doesn’t want to be alone and get to spend even more time with them 🫣🥸🤲

Thanks for requesting!

cw: alcohol, blood, needle, nausea, symptoms of concussion (or I guess those could be interpreted as drunkenness if you like), mention of hospital/stitches

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’ve got both hands on your friend’s head because you don’t trust her to keep up pressure with the towel herself, but you suppose you’re not much better. Your hands are shaking something awful. The blue and yellow lights turning onto your street come as a relief. 

“Look, the ambulance is here,” you tell your friend softly, a poor attempt at reassuring her. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired paramedic flashes a grin at you both as he steps down from the passenger side to meet you at the curb. “So, we have an angel and a…zombie?” 

Your friend makes a rather zombie-like sound of confirmation. 

Another EMT comes up behind the first. “Oh, perfect! So the head wound is just part of it then, I suppose. We can all go home.” He crouches in front of her, smiling as he takes her wrist in his hands and settles two fingers over her pulse. “How are we feeling, babe?”

Your friend swallows thickly. “I need to call my mom.” 

“I’ve already called your mom,” you remind her gently. A third paramedic, this one taller and with a lither build than the others, rounds the ambulance. “She’s on her way.” You ask the paramedics, “Do you know which hospital we’ll be going to? So I can tell her mom.” 

“Most likely the one on Baker,” says the third paramedic. He sets his hand over yours on the towel. “I’ve got this, love.” 

You let go carefully, texting your friend’s mom the hospital before wrapping your arm around her shoulders. Her voice has gone thin and wobbly as the paramedic getting her pulse asks her questions.

“And who’s your friend there?” He points at you with his chin. “Do you know her name?”

Your friend follows his gaze as though she’d forgotten you were there, and you try to give her a smile. She says your name. 

“Nice to meet both of you,” he says cheerily. “I’m James, that’s Sirius and that’s Remus. We’re going to take you to the hospital now, okay? Do you feel like you can walk?”

“Can she come with me?” your friend asks. 

James hesitates. He looks to the other two. 

The tall one—Remus—says tentatively, “We’re really not supposed to. It’d be an awfully tight fit.” 

Your friend’s eyes start to water, and you say quickly, rubbing her arm, “I can stay out of your way. She’s—” you lower your voice “—her mom is hours away, and she’s scared. I don’t want her to be alone.” 

Remus’ eyebrows bend with sympathy. 

“Let’s do it.” Sirius bumps Remus’ hip, a familiar sort of gesture. He sends you a wink. “We can’t part her from her guardian angel.” 

Your face heats, but you smile at him. Give Remus a hopeful look. 

He nods. “Alright,” he says, keeping one hand on your friend’s head and taking her elbow in the other. “Ready to go?” 

“Can my friend come with me?” 

“I’m coming,” you reassure her. You help her stand with an arm under her shoulders, supporting her weight more than necessary in case she falls. 

James and Sirius are waiting in the back of the ambulance to help her up, and while Sirius gets her settled on the gurney James reaches back down for you. 

“Hop on up, angel.” 

You’re not sure if he’s referring to your costume or not, but you think you might be okay with this guy calling you whatever he likes. You take his hand, and have to avert your eyes from the flex of his bicep as he pulls you up. 

“You alright?” Remus asks as you try to find the most out-of-the-way place to sit. 

“Hm?” You look to him. “Yeah, why?” 

He gives you a soft smile. “You’re shaking, love.” He takes your shoulders in his hands, guiding you to a bench in the corner. “Put your back against the wall there. There you are. Say something if you start to feel faint, okay?” 

You hum weakly. You are starting to really tremble, your adrenaline catching up to you now that there are professionals here to take charge of your friend. 

“You’ve got a wicked concussion,” Sirius says to her. “Really top-of-the-line head injury, I’m impressed. Did you pass out at any point?” 

Your friend looks to you, uncertain. 

You take the hand she holds out to you. “Yeah,” you tell Sirius. “Just for a second, though, right after it happened.”

“What did happen?” asks James. 

“She fell and clipped her head on the counter.” You wince at the memory. 

Sirius makes a sympathetic sound. “Bit too much to drink?” 

Your friend makes a rueful, miserable sound. You squeeze her hand. 

“You weren’t so bad,” you tell her kindly. “Just enough to lose your balance. It could’ve happened to anyone.” 

James looks at your joined hands with a faint smile. “You’re a good friend,” he says, “staying with her like this.” 

You shrug. “Couldn’t really leave her alone, could I?” 

“Some people would.” Remus starts putting an IV into your friend’s hand, and you have to look away, your stomach roiling. James chuckles. “Especially considering you look like you might pass out yourself.” 

“I told her to say if she was going to,” says Remus. 

“I’m okay,” you say feebly. 

Sirius tsks, leaving the care of your friend’s wound to James as he comes over to you. “Not a fan of needles?” 

“Or blood,” you admit. “Sorry, I’m fine, just squeamish.” 

“Put your head there, gorgeous.” The compliment doesn’t help with the turmoil in your stomach, nor does the hand he sets on your face, gently directing you to rest your head in the corner. He procures a bottle of water from a drawer. “Sip on this, and please try not to pass out without telling us.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry, angel, you’re doing great. You’re both doing great.” Sirius gives you and your friend’s linked hands a squeeze before rejoining James by her head. “Now, I’m hoping you’re less squeamish than your guardian angel over there, babe. Have you ever had stitches before?”

[lulunothulu]

“So you think I’m hot?” Pt. 4 (finale?)

Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: A week after you’ve completely healed, you’re on your way to go chase a tornado with Kate and Javi when Tyler stops you. Seems like you’re owed something.

Content: flirting, FLUFF, FINALLY KISSING THIS MAN

A/N: Imagine this is the face he makes after you guys finally kiss and Boone is hyping him up 😭 brb gonna daydream about kissing him.

It had been a week since Tyler almost kissed you in your hotel room. And every day since then, he had been coming to your room and bringing you food, changing your bandage, and just spending time with you.

The more time you spend with him, made you realize that you really liked him. You could feel yourself fall for him and you didn’t mind it.

He was sweet, funny, and thoughtful.

You told him you were craving a cookie? The next day he’d have a dozen cookies for you. You wanted to go for a walk? He’d help you walk around on your crutches—then with a cane—until you got tired and he’d carry you back to your room. He even went with you to get the stitches removed, holding your hand when you were in pain and scared.

Hell, he even helped room service change your bedsheets to keep things fresh.

Never once did he try to kiss you. And by God, did you desperately want him to.

But no, he was a perfect gentleman, waiting until the week was up—and you were back to normal.

Now, you were getting the truck ready to get some last minute data on a tornado a few miles away. You’re back to everyone, Kate and Javi talking in front of the truck.

“I told you, we should go east,” Kate tells Javi.

“Yeah but what if you’re wrong?” Javi argues.

You pop your head out of the truck and yell, “Javi, she’s never wrong! Get your head out of your ass!”

“See, this is why I missed her,” Kate smiles.

“Of course you would,” Javi starts, rolling his eyes. “You always gotta team up on me.”

“You love us!” You say.

Javi looks past you before smiling. “Not as much as the cowboy.”

You turn to see what Javi was looking at to see Tyler jogging toward you, Boone and Lilly behind him.

You close the door to the truck and cross your arms over your chest, smiling faintly.

“Well, looks like you’re all better,” Tyler smiles when he reaches you. “I wonder who was your nurse, I’d love to thank them.”

You shake your head before placing your hands on your hips. “That would be you, dumbass.”

His smile widens at the teasing name. “Oh shit, you’re right.”

“So are you guys gonna chase that tornado a few miles east?” You ask.

“We were planning on it,” he tells you.

“Tyler has to do something first!” Boone says from behind.

You raise a brow before stepping closer to Tyler, a smile forming on your lips.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Tyler hesitates, something you’d never seen him do. He scratches the back of his neck before taking a step closer to you.

“It’s been a week,” he starts.

“Yeah?” You smile, stepping even closer.

“And you’re all healed,” he continues, also taking another step closer, making you two touch chests.

“And?” You tease, wrapping your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close and as tight as he can without hurting you.

“And I think we had a deal?” He says it as a question, almost daring you to say yes.

You glance over Tyler’s shoulder to find Boone and Lilly giving you the thumbs up with animated smiles. You chuckle at them before facing Tyler again. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response.

“We did, didn’t we?” You softly agree.

Tyler nods, not wanting to say anything and holding his breath.

You pull him closer, practically a centimeter away. His breathing tickles the top of your lip, making you smile.

“So then what’re you waiting for?” You whisper, lips softly brushing his.

Tyler doesn’t answer. Instead, he presses his lips to yours, his arms wrapping around you so tightly you almost loose your breath.

His lips are soft and warm against yours. They move, searching and exploring yours and you make sure to match them. Your body is warm, it was already fairly hot out, but now? It was burning in the best way possible.

One of Tyler’s hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

His tongue pushes past yours, wrestling to taste every inch of your mouth before finally settling back and enjoying the taste.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hear Javi gag.

You and Tyler pull away, noses red and smiles plastered on your faces. You can’t stop smiling and you don’t want to either. You would kiss him for the rest of the day if you could.

“I’ll see you later?” Tyler asks breathlessly.

“Definitely,” you respond. “You know my room number.”

“I meant at the tornado sighting, but that definitely works too,” he smiles.

“Alright lover boy,” Javi says, pulling your arm before hoisting you onto his shoulders. “We gotta go get that tornado, Y/N.”

As Javi turns and walks you to the truck, you see Boone slapping and high fiving Tyler. “You finally did it my man!”

“I can’t believe you finally kissed her,” Lilly adds.

But all Tyler can do is beam at you.

He was definitely hot.

A/N: I felt like this was so short 😭 but I think I closed this out as much as I could. I have more Tyler x Reader fics coming (maybe I’ll keep the same couple? Let me know!!) Anyway, thank you for reading!! Check out my Masterlist for more! Also please feel free to leave me requests, my brain is slowly losing ideas 😂

Previous parts: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

[enderlovez]

can you write Spencer Reid and his secret girlfriend that's a nurse/doctor, when the team comes back from a mission and reid is injured they all go to the hospital and they see them two flirting and figure it out

(sorry idk how to phrase it)

also can you tag me when it's out?

Kiss It Better

Spencer Reid x Nurse Reader

WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: Spencer gets injured on a case. Imagine his team's surprise when they come to see him and find his nurse flirting with him.

Content Warning: hospitals, Spencer got hurt on a case, probably a whole lot of medical inaccuracies, stitches and needles

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer sits on the edge of the hospital bed, his button-up shirt and cardigan draped over the back of a chair, leaving his undershirt rolled up past his elbow. His thighs are parted so you can stand between them, cleaning the small gash on his arm, your gloved fingers brushing over his skin with the gentlest touch.

"You know," you begin, your tone lightly teasing, "for someone with your IQ, you're really bad at stay out of trouble."

Spencer chuckles softly, though his ears turn a shade of pink. "It's not exactly something I plan for," he defends quietly, good arm wrapped loosely around your waist. "Besides, statistically, my injury rate is relatively low for the kind of work I do."

You glance up at him, a brow raised. "Spencer, you've been here three times in the last two months. At this rate, I should really just set up a reserved bed for you."

"Maybe I just like the company," he quips, and now it's your turn to blush slightly.

"Flirting isn't gonna get you out of a lecture about taking better care of yourself," you reply, tying off the final stitch and cutting the rest of the thread off. "There we are. Good as new."

Spencer watches as you peel off your gloves and toss them into the bin. Everything you do seems to catch him off guard, even after months of... well, whatever this thing between you two has become.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "I just stitched up a cut. Pretty sure that doesn't qualify as amazing."

"To me, it does," he counters, his gaze soft as he watches you walk around the room. "You're brilliant and kind and—"

"—And wondering why you're still sitting here," you cut him off with a grin, moving back to your previous spot between his thighs and holding the back of your hand to his forehead. "Don't you have a team to get back to?"

As if on cue, the door swings open, and a group of people spills into the room, their voices a mix of concern and exhaustion.

"Reid, how's—" a man with a shaved head starts, but immediately stops again, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between the two of you.

The room grown awkwardly silent as they take in the scene: you standing between Spencer's legs—closer than any medical professional should be with their patients, his unbandaged arm hung loosely around your waist.

"Oh," says a woman with dark hair and a wicked smirk. "This is interesting."

Spencer shifts uncomfortable but doesn't quite move away. "Guys, this is—uh—this is Doctor L/N. She was just... patching me up."

"Patching you up, huh?" the man from before drawls, a teasing lilt in his voice, his grin widening. "Looks like a little more than that to me."

You straighten and take a step back, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the heat crawling up your neck. "Doctor Reid is in good shape now. He'll need to keep the stitches dry for a few days, but the cut wasn't too deep."

The blonde woman in the back raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back a smile. "Thank you, Doctor L/N," she says politely before her attention shifts to Spencer. "Though I have to admit, considering his arm got cut open, this is the first time we've seen him quite so... comfortable."

Spencer groans, his head falling slightly forward. "Can we not do this here? Please?"

"Oh, we're doing this," the dark-haired woman says, crossing her arms. "How long has this been going on?"

"Emily," Spencer pleads, his voice laced with something somewhere in-between exasperation and resignation.

You glance between then, suddenly feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. "I'll just—uh—leave you all to it," you say quickly, stepping toward the door.

Spencer's hand shoots out, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. "Wait—"

But you shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. "It seems you've got enough explaining to do without me making it harder."

As you slip out and shut the door, you hear the inevitable teasing start.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The hallways is surprisingly quiet compared to the chaos inside, and you take a moment to collect yourself. You've grown used to Spencer's shy smiles and occasional compliments, but seeing him surrounded by his team—people who clearly adore him and who are incredibly perceptive—feels like stepping into a spotlight you hadn't anticipated.

You're about to head back to the nurses' station when the door opens again, and Spencer emerges, wearing all his clothes and his cheeks still faintly red.

"They're never going to let this go," he says, running a hand through his hair.

You bite back a laugh. "I can see why. You should've warned me they'd be so observant."

"I was trying to keep things simple," he admits, stepping closer, "but apparently, we weren't as subtle as I thought."

"Subtle?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically glowing in there, Spencer! You were quite literally holding onto me."

He grins sheepishly. "I can't help it. You make me happy. I like being close to you."

Your heart does a little flip at his words, but you roll your eyes for his benefit. "Well, now that they know, I'm sure the rest of your team will, so I guess our secret's out."

"They'll adjust to the idea," he says lightly. "And for what it's worth, I don't mind them knowing. I'm proud to be with you."

You smile, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his. "I'm proud to be with you, too. Even if it means getting interrogated by the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Spencer laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "They'll get over it. Probably."

"Probably?" you echo, laughing with him as you start walking back to the nurses' station.

He shrugs, his hand brushing against yours as he keeps pace. "I think Morgan might take longer. But that's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

@priv-rose

[loveesiren]

Baby Daddy (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Here's part two! Let me know if you guys want more to this story :)

Warnings: Birth, emergency c-section, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

You leaned your head on Rafe's shoulder, his hand rubbing your swollen belly as you were handed yet another gift.

You were grateful for this baby shower that Rose had put together but you couldn't help the fact that you were absolutely exhausted.

You were in no way prepared for how much pregnancy took a toll on your body. Especially in the third trimester.

You held the tiny pink blanket up. The soft fabric was lined with silk and it was absolutely adorable.

"And when you finally tell us her name, we'll get it stitched on there. Along with her birthday." Sarah said with a smile as her and John B watched you examine their gift.

"It's perfect," You say. "And her name will be revealed once she's born." You chuckle.

"I can't believe you're making us wait," John B whines, rolling his eyes.

"She's gonna be here any day now," Rafe smiled, looking down at you. "And this has been great but Y/N really needs to get some rest."

"But there is still more presents!" Rose whines.

"And she will open them later," Rafe scolds. "She's exhausted."

You were practically falling asleep in Rafe's arms.

"Alright, fine," Rose says as she stands up. "For anyone who would like to continue celebrating, join me in the back yard!"

John B and Sarah stay behind, cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper that littered the living room.

"I'm going to take her up to bed," Rafe said as he stood up and pulled you off the couch.

"Rafe, no, too fat." You grumbled as you felt him try to lift you. "I can do it."

"Baby-"

"I can do it!"

John B and Sarah laugh as you fall back on the couch, obviously too tired to move.

Rafe sighs before bending over and scooping you into his arms.

"Rafe, no-"

"Shhhh," He says, picking you up effortlessly. "Uhm, do you guys need me to-"

"Go," Sarah says with a smile. "We got it."

Rafe offers a small smile before carrying you upstairs to the room the two of you shared. Rose had turned the guest room next to Rafe's room into a nursery. The two rooms sat in a part of the house that was mostly cut off from the rest. It was the perfect little corner for the two of you and your baby while you saved up for your own place.

Rafe laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over the two of you as he crawled in next to you and cradled your belly. "Get some rest, Mama." He said, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Rafe..." You whispered.

"Yes?"

You could feel his fingers trail over your skin. The way he cared for you and was so gentle and excited for your baby, you couldn't wait anymore. You had to tell him.

"I love you." You say as you look up to meet his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he registered your words. "W-what?"

You giggled. "I love you, Rafe. You're amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad. I know we've been doing this whole pregnancy thing in kind of a weird way but I'd kind of like to be a real a fami-"

Rafe pressed his lips to yours, caressing your cheek as he deepened the kiss. "I've been in love with you for so long," He admitted against your lips. "I want all of this. I want us. I want our baby. I want to be a family."

You smiled at his response. He'd changed so much since you found out you were pregnant. He quit coke. He worked hard. He was constantly at your side making sure you had everything you needed. You practically had to pull him off you so you could go check on John B.

You could see his eyes swelling with tears. "What's wrong, baby?" You asked as you cupped his cheek.

"Nothing," He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. "I just have my dream girl and I get to meet my fucking daughter soon. My life is perfect."

You couldn't help but tear up at his words. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't long before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

———-

"AHHHHH!" You screamed as you shot up in bed. "Oh my fucking God!"

"What is it baby?!" Rafe asked eagerly as he quickly flipped on the lamp.

"It fucking hurts!" You spit. "Rafe...Rafe I think I'm contracting." You're barely able to get the words out.

"Oh, fuck. Okay!" He yells as he hops out of bed. He opens the door and yells into the hallway. "Dad! Rose!"

"Fuck, FUCK!" You scream.

"Okay, hold on baby, I have your bag." Rafe runs to his closet and pulls out the bag he had packed for you for when the time finally came. "Rose!" He screams again.

"I'm coming! What is it?" She says as her and Ward enter the room. "Oh, okay!"

Rose is by your side instantly, helping you off the bed.

"Ah! I can't-" You say as you fall to the floor. "I can't walk, it hurts so much."

"I got you baby," Rafe says, once again scooping you into his arms with minimal effort.

"Ward, start the car!" Rose commands as she grabs your bag and you all head downstairs.

Rafe climbs into the back seat with you. You dig your nails into his arm as another contraction invades your body.

"It's okay, sweet girl." Rafe says as he presses his lips to your forehead. "Just breathe with me, okay?" He holds your swollen belly up, relieving some of the pressure so you're able to catch your breath.

You can feel the car speeding to the hospital. You can hear Ward and Rose arguing in the front seat. You can feel Rafe wrapped around you, whispering sweetly into your ear. But you couldn't help the black haze that was washing over your vision as you lost consciousness.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he lightly tapped your cheek. "Y/N, baby, stay with me!"

"We're almost there!" Ward says.

"She's unconscious!" Rafe screams.

_____________

Your eyes fluttered open. It was almost painful to keep your eyelids up.

Large windows lined the room, letting in the sunrise. Purple skies as the sun made it's way into view.

You felt so confused. You placed a hand on your belly. No bump. You instantly shot up, panicking at your missing baby bump you had grown so used to.

"Rafe!" You screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he came out of the bathroom, bouncing a tiny human in his arms. "Calm down baby, I'm here. We're here." He smiles as he sits on the bed next to you.

"Is that...is that my daughter?" You ask, taking in her tiny features. She had Rafe's eyes and your lips. A perfect mix of the two of you.

Rafe smiles, moving to place her in your arms. "You did so good, mama."

You hold her gently, tears filling your eyes as she instantly looked for your nipple. You happily fed her, gushing over the fact she knew you were her mother.

"I-I don't even remember."

"It was complicated," Rafe begins, rubbing one hand over your leg and one over her tiny head. "Emergency c-section. Thought I was gonna lose you. But you were so strong."

You couldn't help but cry. A tear falling on your child's cheek but Rafe brushed it away.

"She's been so fussy until now. She doesn't like the bottle." Rafe chuckles.

"How long have a been out?"

"Two days,"

You shudder, realizing you missed the first two days of your child's life.

Rafe pulls himself up to sit behind you. You lean back against his chest as you continue to feed your child. He runs his fingers up and down your arms and places kisses on your temples.

"I love you so much," He whispers.

"I love you too," You said as you felt yourself drift back to sleep. Rafe brought his arms around you to help hold your baby as she finished nursing.

When you woke up again the sun was setting. Rafe was draped over you, snoring softly. Your daughter in a bassinet beside you, sleeping peacefully.

You heard a knock at the door. Rafe shot up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was going on.

"Hmmm, okay." He said, half asleep as he stumbled towards the door.

You felt bad. You knew he'd been doing all of this on his own while you were out. He needed sleep.

"Hey," Rafe said as your family members piled in. You were grateful for the large room.

Rose and Wheezie carried flowers and gifts, placing them on the dresser by the window. Ward followed behind them.

John B and Sarah came in after them with balloons, setting them to the side as they quickly ran to see your baby.

"Jesus," Rafe grumbled as he laid back down beside you. "M' sorry baby. They wouldn't let anyone but me in until today."

You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head as he rests against your shoulder. "It's okay, babe."

You were wide awake now. Rafe tried his best to sit up and interact but you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

John B held your baby as everyone else crowded around him. She was smiling up at him and it made your heart melt.

"So," Sarah asked. "What's her name?"

You turned to Rafe and smiled. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "Her name is Juliette Lilith Cameron." He announced.

All the girls gushed over the name. John B smiled down at his niece, bouncing her happily.

Ward came around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Congratulations, son. You're going to be a great father."

Rafe smiles at his dads words. "Thanks, dad." He gushes. You can't help but tear up. You knew how much Rafe wanted his dad to be proud of him.

After everyone had a turn holding Juliette, Rafe finally ushered them all out, claiming you and baby needed your rest. But in all honesty, you and Juliette were fine. Rafe was the one that needed a break.

After you nursed Juliette and laid her down to sleep, you and Rafe snuggled in your hospital bed, eating mediocre hospital food and watching Family Feud.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" Rafe mumbled against your shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, my love." You whisper, placing a kiss on his head.

"Gotta take care of my girls first," He mumbles.

"We're good," You promise him. "We need you to be well rested."

Rafe hums into your skin, wrapping his arm tighter around you but not tight enough to hurt you since you were still healing.

"Love my girls," Was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[shotmrmiller]

PAUSE! OH MY GOD. writing a soap smut got me thinking. 

As a medic in base, you see the 141 guys all the time. Whether in passing or because they get injured, you’re always interacting with them. Your particular lack of response at Ghost’s irritated glare after reprimanding him for being unable to keep his stitches intact during training is what solidified your friendship with Johnny— what Soap tells you to call him.

Every time Johnny goes out, he likes to drag you along and this is where you notice peculiar interactions between him and Ghost.

The way Ghost gives Soap Johnny his full attention when he’s speaking, turning his entire body to face him, even if it’s something completely trivial. Or how Johnny stresses over Ghost who’s injured on your med table and Ghost will comfort him. When going on a mission, if one goes, so does the other.

You wonder if there's something else going on.

—

You get your answer.

One day you’re knocking on Johnny’s door because it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to weasel out of a physical. You’d think getting shot would hurt more than a vaccine but here you are— about to twist his scottish ear off. The door finally opens, and you barge in because you aren’t about to cause a scene in the middle of the hallway when you freeze. 

Ghost is in Johnny's room, lying on the bed. If looks could kill, Ghost’s would’ve leveled the base. And he’s naked under the sheets— if that tree trunk-sized bulge is what you think it is. It doesn't even look hard. Bloody hell. 

You shift your gaze towards Soap, and your eyes drop— he's clad in nothing but a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips. 

Massive. These men just walkin’ round with weapons in their pants.

Shaking off those thoughts, you shift your attention to his face.

“Meet me at the clinic in 10 or so help me god, Johnny.” and walk out the door.

You hear a muffled "Yes ma'am" , and a hiss escapes your lips.

That cocky smile Johnny had means he definitely saw you ogling them. 

—

A week passes and it’s a friday. You can’t wait to lock yourself in your barracks room and watch movies the entire weekend— you plan to start as soon as you're off the clock.

And then other medics twist your arm into going out for drinks.

Now you find yourself seated at a table in a lively bar, indulging in shots of tequila. As you glance around, your eyes catch sight of Soap and Ghost standing near the bartender. It appeared that some woman is talking to Johnny and he has a polite, detached smile on his face. Always too kind to strangers.

Then she starts caressing his thigh.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. Right in front of Ghost’s salad? You lock eyes with Ghost and he looks murderous. Jesus.

You usually don't stick your nose in others' business, but if you don’t intervene, Ghost might actually kill her in her sleep. Besides, tequila has always made you bold.

With a confident stride, you make your way towards Johnny and remove that woman’s hand before settling yourself snugly on his lap— and you wrap his arms around your waist.

“And who is this?” you ask Soap, but the girl questions back.

“No. Who are you?” 

Bitch. 

Curling your upper lip, you answer, “I’m the one he comes in every night hoping it takes. Now leave before I make you,” completely ignoring the massive bulge pressing up into your arse.

She looks at you with a bewildered expression, but doesn't move so you finish off with, "Try it. Just a warning though, it'll be hard to fight when the fight ain't fair."

You cock your head to the side with a taunting expression and the woman scoffs before walking away. Noticing she left her almost full drink behind, you give it to the bartender to toss in the trash. She's just gonna have to get another one.

Your act comes to an end, so you shift to stand up— and realize that the arms encircling your waist tighten, keeping you on his lap. His clothed cock.

“Ye didnae think we’d let ye go after yer little show, did ye?” 

Unless Johnny’s speaking french, he just said we. You'd be nervous but you aren't about to decline what could be the best sex of your life. The want you feel in Soap's pants has you riding a certain high— it makes you feel confident.

Grabbing onto the edge of the bartop, you swivel the stool you're on to face Ghost. 

“And this okay with you? I wouldn’t be stepping on any toes, or nothin’?”

Ghost swiftly lifts you from Johnny's lap and places you onto his own.

“Does this answer your question?” and draws you closer before grinding his erection against you.

And it sure as hell does. Slapping the counter, you ask for some water. If this night is going to end with you sandwiched between these two, you want to remember all of it.

reader's a boss ass bitch. GET IT CHILE.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 1/3 of my soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. You're injured and he shows his care without thinking.

Warnings: fluff, brief insecurity, description of injuries and stitches. r has hair long enough to pull back but no specific qualities!

Word Count. 1.0k+ words

A/N: This is just a little something I wrote last night. A scene of Tim being soft toward you, his favorite rookie. :)

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim Bradford can be gruff, pushy, and, at times, downright mean. But he never pushes his trainees more than they can handle, and his relentless tests and trials are for their benefit. By leading them to their potential or letting them fall short of it, he shows himself and them that they do (or in many cases, don’t) have what it takes. So, when people ask you if Tim Bradford is hard to work with or a tough TO, the answer is usually yes. 

But then there are moments like this. 

As you sit in the emergency room with a bloody wad of paper towels wrapped around your hand and your hair falling in your face, you watch Tim. He’s been on the phone since you arrived, pacing as he explains what happened to Sergeant Grey. You hadn’t seen Tim worried about you like this before today, but the moment he noticed the concerning amount of blood dripping from your hand as you stood your ground against an armed suspect, he showed you a side of himself that you’d never seen before. 

“Let’s get that hand looked at. I’m Dr. Grace Sawyer.”

You nod at Grace as you stand and brace your injured hand against the other. She smiles kindly as you introduce yourself and leads you into a nearby room. 

“Take a seat and I’ll unwrap Officer Bradford’s patch job,” she instructs. 

After you sit and extend your hand toward her, she carefully unwraps the blood-soaked towels and deposits it into a biohazard container behind her. The gash across your palm and over the side of your wrist begins bleeding again without the pressure of Tim’s impromptu wrap job. He yelled at you while he did it, but you know why. 

“How’d this happen?” Grace asks. 

“I, uh… I was supposed to stay out of the way until our backup got there, but a guy ran up behind Officer Bradford, my TO, with a machete. I jumped in before I thought about it," you answer.

“Clearly,” Tim grumbles as he walks in. “How is she?” he asks Grace. 

“I’m going to put in a few stitches. I’ll wrap it so she can get back to work, though. Is this your dominant hand?”

“No,” you answer softly, looking at Tim. 

Tim nods once before he walks to stand behind you. You feel his fingers in your hair before you can ask what he’s doing. Less than an hour ago, someone else had their fingers on your scalp, but you weren’t as accepting of the touch. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works your ponytail holder loose. 

“Fixing your hair. This look isn’t exactly department-approved and you can’t do it with stitches in your palm,” Tim answers. 

You turn your attention toward Grace and watch her work instead of focusing on how softly Tim is touching you or how close his chest is to your back. His warmth and care for you threaten to distract you from why you're here and what you're supposed to do when you leave.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when his finger hooks on a tangle. 

“It’s okay,” you reply. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” Tim asks. 

“I am. Thanks to you.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move that hand,” Grace says.

She winks as she stands, and you wonder if she knows how much trouble you’d get in for making a move on your TO. Not that you haven’t thought about it. Although, it always ends in rejection, even in your daydreams. The downside of knowing Tim so well, you think. 

“I don’t even know how he got my hand and my hair so fast,” you admit. “It was like I felt the slice and then he was yanking me backward.”

“You stood your ground well,” Tim responds. “Not that I’m praising you disobeying me and jumping in, but what you did was well done. Unnecessary, but properly executed.”

“Unnecessary?” you repeat. “I’ll remember that next time a guy is about to use a machete against your back.”

“You know what I mean,” Tim adds quietly. 

He drops his hands to your shoulders briefly, and when he pulls away, you shiver at the loss of warmth. 

“It’s not perfect, or exactly how you had it,” he begins as he rounds the exam table. 

“It’s great. Thank you,” you interject. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Trust me, I’ll try. Twelve stitches across my palm was never the goal.”

Tim rolls his eyes and sits in a nearby chair to wait for Grace to finish treating your cut. You watch him, and when you notice his shoulders drop, you push him back for once. 

“You know, I’ve been looking for a new hairstylist for an event next month,” you say. 

“No,” Tim answers. 

He crosses his arms tightly against his chest and tilts his head away from you. That means it’s working. 

“But you did so well! I mean, I haven’t felt this good because of a hairstyle since… I can’t remember.”

“Then learn to do it yourself.”

“But you’re my partner,” you argue with a pout. 

“When I said I’d be with you through the good, the bad, and the ugly, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“But I’ll be ugly without beautiful hairstyles like this!”

Tim straightens quickly and says, “You’re kidding. Right?”

You shrug and look at the stitches lining your hand. 

“You’re beautiful,” he adds. “No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.”

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

“I’m back,” Grace announces. “Let me wrap this and you’ll be good to go.”

“About time,” Tim sighs. “Way to waste our afternoon, boot.”

You don’t hear a word he says. The only thing worth remembering for the foreseeable future is Tim Bradford saying, ‘You’re beautiful. No hair-do can change that or make it untrue.’ When you climb back into the shop a few minutes later, you realize that life will be hard with one of your hands out of commission. 

“How am I supposed to do anything without bothering this?” you ask. 

“Carefully. You just…” Tim sighs and knocks his knuckles against the steering wheel for a moment. Then he says, “Just call me if you need help.”

It takes you a second to register what he said and believe you heard him correctly, and your questioning sound communicates that. 

“Don’t make me regret it,” he adds. 

“Is this the ugly you meant?” you tease. 

“No,” Tim answers. “This is the good.”

[nightlyrequiem]

Thinking about how Valeria running away from 141 when they capture her, and stumble into your apartment which happens to be open (cause you always forget to lock the door ironically that u live in las almas) so your kinda freaking out but val is not having it so she shuts u up? Maybe things get spicy if u want to add?

-🦋🦂

She can stumble into my home any day 😛

A high-strung, stressed Valeria seeking shelter in your home? Forced proximity?? Maybe what occurs isn't accurate to how things would in real life, but nobody reads fanfiction for the realism.

Also sorry for leaving this in the inbox for so long!! Requests were closed and I was so busy, but I have the motivation to write despite my business. I really like this concept btw 🤭

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Home Invasion, Smut, Gagging, Scissoring, Choking (Not During The Smut.), Violence, Takes Place During The Alone Mission

Alone (But Not For Long.)

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Valeria feels a stitch in her side as she runs. She feels a quiet sort of rage at Diego's idiocy. She knew there was something suspicious the guy who calls himself Soap and wears a mohawk. Diego let him in. Brought him right to her. Fucking idiot. Her legs work hard to keep her ahead of both Alejandro and his little posse of Brits. Valeria makes sure to keep herself in shape. Keeping herself lean and toned. She absolutely hates Cardio though. 

She quickly ducks into an alley. Valeria has the advantage of having home field. She knows about every single turn and crevice. The gringos do not. She tries her luck with a doorknob and lets herself in. Surprised to find it unlocked. The heavens are smiling down upon her today. Gifting her an idiot that doesn't understand that you should lock your doors. Especially at night. Especially in Las Almas. She leans against the door. Trying not to breathe too loud. Heavy footsteps pound right by. The place is silent. Fairly clean apart from a few articles of clothing littering the ground.

There's a small, shriveled and honestly, sad looking houseplant on the table. It's leaves are browning and droopy. Valeria looks around. There's nothing luxurious or fancy about this home. The furniture looks old and outdated. There's a throw blanket on the couch with tattered ends and an ugly pattern. The art on the walls looks handmade. It's almost admirable to Valeria, who is so used to the... wealthier aesthetic of her own home and Diego's home. Diego. She scowls as she thinks of him. She'll deal with him later. Valeria silently walks around. Inspecting her surroundings. Down the hall she sees a bathroom. Catching a glimpse of bottles and serums on the counter. 

She pushes open a closed door and pauses. It's the bedroom, and sleeping in it is you, one leg peeking out from underneath the blankets. She's about to turn and leave when you open your eyes. You and Valeria stare at each other for a few long seconds. Valeria swiftly darts towards you and clamps a hand over your mouth. Cutting off a frightened wail.

"Be quiet or I'll kill you." She says straight to the point. Valeria stiffens as heavy footsteps run past the window. Shadows passing through the curtains. Orders are barked with frustration.

She gasps in pain as you sink your teeth into her hand. She jerks back and you take the opportunity to flee. Throwing yourself off the bed and landing with a thump. You grunt in pain and take a second or two to get back to your feet. Unfortunately for you, a second is all Valeria needs to pounce on you. You both struggle, you to break free and her to keep you under control. Valeria's hands work hard as they grip your forearms. Keeping them pinned to the ground. You're stronger than you look - she actually struggles to keep you down. She's had enough and wraps her hands around your throat. Applying enough pressure to stop your struggling. 

When she sees that you're about to pass out she lets go and listens to you take in loud breaths.

"Are you going to be quiet?" She asks darkly. when you don't reply she repeats herself more aggressively. "Are you going to be quiet, bitch?"

Your lips part as you stare up at her. "...Yeah." You rasp. Voice rough from being choked. She glares at you.

"Good." She grunts. Moving off of you. Valeria grabs you by the hair and pulls you to your feet. Strong arms wrapping around you to keep you from running off. She unholsters her pistol and presses it into your soft side. She presses her face up to the side of your head. "You're going to stay quiet." She whispers the warning.

The door Valeria originally entered through slams open. Valeria thinks quickly and roughly pulls you into the closet with her, keeping you pressed right up against her front, on hand keeping the gun pressed against your side, the other splayed across your lower back. Through the slits in the closet door, she watches as a man quietly steps into the room. Soap. His gun is raised, and he surveys the room.

"Fuckin' Shadows." He mutters. Voice thick with rage and pain. His radio crackles to life. A deep, gravelly voice speaks to him.

"Found anything useful yet, Johnny?"

Johnny grabs a thin, long-sleeved shirt on the ground and rips a strip from it.

"A shirt." He replies. "I'm in an apartment, looks like the owner fled."

The owner trembles slightly in Valeria's hold and she feels sweat on the nape of her neck. Stressed that you'll make a noise and alert Soap.

"Smart move on the owner's part." The man on the radio replies. She recalls who it belongs to. The big guy with the skull face. "Get what you need and head to the church. I'm holding out for you there."

Soap quickly ties the strip of fabric around his waist to slow down the bleeding from a bullet wound. He takes one last glance around before leaving. Valeria counts to sixty before pushing you out from the closet. She drags you to the bed and forces you down next to her. 

"We're going to sit here and wait.

"Wait for what?" You ask, confused. "what's going on?" 

"Be quiet." She snaps.

After a few minutes of silence Valeria relaxes a bit. Letting her guard down. An action that proves to be a mistake. You abruptly make a grab for her gun. Trying to wrestle it from her hands. You're surprisingly strong and in an attempt to keep it from you, she accidently knocks both of you to the ground. The gun slides out of her grip. You two grapple together. Trading blows and punches, Valeria's significantly more painful. She's furious at you but also a little turned on. It's been a while since someone's fought back like this. You land a hard punch to the side of her head, snapping it to the side. You both go still and she touches the side of her face, expression unreadable.

Valeria looks down at you. At your parted lips, heaving chest, wide eyes. Without thinking she leans down and captures your lips in a heated kiss. She expects you to pull away or push her off, but you do the unexpected and kiss her back. Valeria should be trying to figure out her next course of actions. But you spread your legs, and Valeria is slotted right against you. Valeria pushes her tongue into your mouth while your hands wander underneath her thin tactical vest. Smoothing her sweater over her ribs. You give the vest a small tug and Valeria complies. She sits up, leaving a thin string of saliva to connect your mouths. She fumbles with the clips and straps and slides it off, taking her belt off too. Both are pushed to the side.

Before Valeria can return to your lips, you're pushing her down and straddling her. Hurriedly pulling off your shirt. The cool air hits your chest and your nipples harden. You reach beneath you and awkwardly pull her pants off. You run your fingers through her folds, feeling the slickness against them. Valeria gasps and arches her back as you rub firm circles against her clit. She can feel more slick dripping from her cunt. The gun lies off to the side in her peripheral vision, forgotten about completely.

You shift lower to press your cunt to hers. Grinding against her. Your folds sliding together wetly. a mess accumulating quickly beneath Valeria. You ride her with a fervor. Her eyes focused on the tantalizing movement of your breasts. You lean down for a better angle, pressing close enough for your nipples to brush against her chest. You whine loudly and Valeria's hand shoots up, covering your mouth. She pushes you off and grabs the remains of the shirt Soap used. Gagging you. With your back resting against the bed, she slots herself between your legs. Closer than ever. With you at no risk of making noise she roughly grinds into you. Using your leg as leverage. Her pace is bruising and quick. A few, muted noises make it past your gag. Your eyes rolling back.

Valeria can feel your leg twitching. You're about to come. She groans lowly as she nears her own climax. Your head presses against her shoulder. Valeria's legs are getting tired, but she keeps at it. Her hole fluttering around nothing as your clits grind together. Finally, the tension snaps. Blood pulses in her clit as she comes, riding out her orgasm with your body.

She slowly pulls away, grimacing at the wet sound she makes as she does so. She rests beside you. Head next to yours. Out of the corner of her eye she watches you struggle with the makeshift gag. Finally getting it off. You wipe yourself clean with it. Collecting your combined juices.

"... Want something to eat?" You murmur.

[thesinglesock]

my old How to Train your Dragon obsession suddenly re-emerging now, after I've spent years learning about Historical Viking Clothing and Crafts is great actually cause I get to apply the Fun History Knowledge to my favorite blorbos, and now I have some very specific scenarios.

in Viking culture, gift giving was a big complicated very significant thing. And one gift that was Especially Significant was that of a New Shirt. Women would propose to the guy they wanted to marry by making him a brand new linen shirt. I could go on for several pages about what that tells us about viking culture, gender roles, and also the extremely fun ways viking age stories used "gifting a shirt" as a symbol in romantic stories, but I'll restrain myself. This post is about How to Train your Dragon.

Astrid Hofferson can't sew. There's no way. Girl spent her whole life training to be a warrior, she has not had the time or patience to sit down and learn to sew (even though it involves a whole lot of stabbing things with a sharp object). I mean even her own clothes are made with minimal amounts of sewing (a needlebound tank top and some furs wrapped around her arms instead of sleeves).

Hiccup Haddock Horrendus III, on the other hand, knows how to sew. Sure he mostly works with metal and leather, but leatherwork requires sewing. I'm pretty sure I can find actual footage of him using a needle. Also his clothes are nicely sewn, and since he grew up without a mum, and his dad is a very busy man, he must have made at least parts of his outfit himself.

So my question is: how did they ever get engaged. How did that proposal go? Did Astrid suffer through learning a new skill so she could spend months of her life painstakingly stitching together the Worst Shirt Ever Made? I imagine her rage quitting after she has to undo that one seam for a fourth time, and in true Astrid fashion, just chucking it at Hiccup with full force when he walks into the room.

or! would Hiccup defy Viking Gender Norms because he gets that Astrid has no interest in sewing? and then he gets it into his head that it has to be the most elaborate shirt on the whole island cause it's for his girlfriend and he can't even remember ever seeing her in a nice shirt before? and that's a shame cause she deserves to have nice things! And he overthinks every choice along the way because what if she hates it???? But ofc it turns out really nice and she adores it.

[entitled-fangirl]

Adjustment.

Pelle x American!reader

Summary: Three summers ago, Y/n became a part of the Harga. With Pelle returning for midsummer with American friends, she begins to rethink her life here.

Warnings: MANIPULATION TO THE MAX Y'ALL!!! But if you've seen Midsommar then you already knew that I guess. This is a dark one so discretion is advised.

A/n: To the anon that asked for this- I HAVE DELIVERED! This is the first fic since like June that hasn't been GoT related, so it was a nice change of pace, despite that it's just Pelle manipulating the reader

Masterlist

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

She watched Pelle approach, a radiant smile coming over her face. "Pelle!"

The man's head shot up, and his eyes brightened, his arms opening wide. She ran to him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, one around her waist, the other in her hair. "Oh, how I have missed you."

"I promise I've missed you more. You've gotten to explore, and I've been stuck here without you."

"I trust you have adjusted well," He mentioned as he pulled away, his hands coming to cradle her face. 

"As much as I can. You've brought others?"

Only then did he remember the others. "Ah, right." He turned and pulled her to his side, gesturing to each person. "These are my friends. Josh, Mark, Christian, and uh, Dani." His thumb rubbed at her waist, "Everyone, this is Y/n. She is uh, my spouse, of sorts."

Mark's brows came together. "Like, you're married?"

Josh chipped in. "You didn't mention that."

"No, no," Pelle assured. "Here, we do not believe in the typical marriage that others do. She is my one. But we are all of one family, so legal marriage seems unneeded."

"I see," Josh nodded.

"It is lovely to meet you all," she chimed. "You are American, no?"

"Yeah," Christian agreed. "You're uh, you are too?"

She grinned. "Yes. A dear friend of mine was from here, and she brought me along for midsummer a few years ago. I met Pelle, and the rest is but chance."

"More than chance," Pelle beamed. "She is a beauty, is she not?"

"This friend of yours that brought you," Josh mentioned, "Is she here?"

Her face fell a bit. "No. No, uh. She has died."

Pelle was quick to comfort her. "Her pain is our pain. And you know her life was well lived. There is no death in life, huh?"

"No," she agreed. She quickly fixed her upset features. "Ingmar has made a tea, if you wish for it."

Pelle hummed. "That is quite the idea." He turned to the others. "That would help relax us, yes?"

She pulled from his arms and moved to Dani. "Perhaps us women may speak of finer things. I would enjoy the company."

Dani's eyes pulled into a worried expression that she tried to hide. "Oh. That… That would be nice. I've been in a car with four guys for hours. I'd like the change of pace."

Y/n smiled. "Then it is settled. Pelle?" She asked, turning to him.

His head tilted in an admiring way. "Of course. My company is lovely, but I'm sure Dani would appreciate that."

They watched the men walked off, no doubt going to get high and stare at the grass for the next couple hours. 

"I miss it, you know," Y/n admitted.

"What?"

"America." She looked out over the mostly empty field. "The sun shines differently here. And… I miss the color."

"It's beautiful here," Dani tried to ease.

"Yes, but I meant," she trailed off, gesturing at Dani. "The clothes. I miss my shirts and the pants I had."

"Is that all you wear? The white?"

"Hm?" She looked down at her dress. "Yes. But I have the stitching in both blue and red."

Dani chuckles lightly. "I don't think I could live without sweatpants."

"It gets easier after a while. Pelle promised to bring back books for me. I have not adjusted as well as he was hoping. I know it worries him."

Dani nodded. "He did bring some books. I admit, I didn't want to pry him about why, but that makes sense now."

"He really did? Oh, what kind? And… and how many? Are they popular ones? In America, I mean?"

Dani's eyes widened. "Oh, uh. I don't know. I didn't really look."

She forced her excitement down. "Right. Right. Well, enough of me. Please. I want to know about you," she smiled as she began to lead them down the path to the Harga.

Dani shrugged and put her hands in her pockets as she walked. "Um, let me think. There's not that much to know, really."

"You're in college, aren't you?"

"Yeah. But I'm not in anthropology like the guys-"

"-hmmm. That's odd," she mused. "I studied anthropology as well. For a year or two, anyway."

"Oh," Dani remarked, trying to smile at that. "That is kinda strange. Small world, I guess."

"Yeah. Strange…"

…

Quite a few hours later, the boys stumbled their way into the Harga, Pelle slightly more conscious than the others. He immediately crossed the field, hugging his relatives along the way as he went.

Upon seeing them again, Y/n ushered Dani back over to them.

The more Dani had talked, the more Y/n was beginning to grow concerned about the Harga. 

Like maybe she should have trusted her mind in the first place all those summers ago.

"So many thoughts in your mind," Pelle chimed as he approached her. "I could feel them across the field."

"Dani told me you've brought books," she immediately admitted, not bothering to try to do small talk with him.

Pelle gave a soft chuckle at her eagerness. His hands cupped her cheeks. "I did. Just a few. I know it is not quite everything you want, but I could not bring an entire library. Not when there is so much here for you to still understand."

She couldn't hide the light disappointment in her eyes. It had been such a long year without Pelle. The people of the Harga were comforting and understanding, but there still were the few that stared at her during dinners, like they could read the growing fight in her heart.

She missed home so much. And everyone knew it.

It worried Pelle to no end. 

That's why he brought small things to help her adjust. Books, magazines, art, each summer visit back to the Harga included Pelle's way of reminding her that the rest of the world existed.

Just outside of her reach.

Last summer had been the worst when her friend had offered herself as a sacrifice. Y/n begged Pelle to let her join his travel back to the States.

"I'll be good! I can… I'll do anything! Just don't leave me," she pleaded, her hands in tight fists that gripped his clothing. "I can't do this again."

Pelle gave her a pitying look. It pained him so much to do this to her, but he knew the moment she made it back in the States, he'd lose her. It was not something he was willing to bargain.

"It is only for a few months," he tried to ease. His voice always managed to sooth her. "I am almost done with all of my classes, then I'll return back home. Forever. You just have to be patient." He tilted her head up, ignoring the ugly tear streaks across her cheeks. "Can you do that? Be patient for me?"

"I… I'm feeling sick," she admitted to him. Her mind was so flooded with conflicting thoughts that a headache had began to form.

"How awful," he cooed, his hand rubbing at the back of her head. "Surely they can manage without you for the day. I will walk you to bed."

"No," she covered. "I'm rather hungry-"

That sparked his need to provide for her. "I will go and get you something. I'll bring it to your bed." He kissed her forehead. "Go on."

"Can Dani walk me?" She asked.

Pelle's brows pulled together as he looked from her to Dani. He wanted to say no, but he couldn't understand why exactly. "Okay."

Once the two women got away from the group and into the large building, Y/n grabbed Dani by her biceps. "You have to leave," she warned lowly.

"W-What?" 

"If you stay, you'll stay forever," she cried. "I can't- I can't go home. I've begged. And they'll kill me if they find out I've told you. Please. You have to leave."

"Y/n-"

"-Please!" She cried again. "You must trust me!"

"But Pelle understands we're just visiting."

"I was just visiting," she pointed out. "Until I wasn't. Pelle is a small silver lining in a dumpster of shit. Promise me you'll try."

Dani ran a hand through her hair. "H-How?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "And you can't let them know what you're thinking. They're smarter than they look."

"Alright. Let's just get you in bed for now. We'll talk when you feel better."

"Dani, I'm not crazy. Please-"

"I know." Dani tried to ease. "Let's just get you in bed."

Dani tucked the woman in, making sure all was right before promising to return later to check on her. As she left, she almost ran into one of the older members of the Harga. "Oh. Excuse me."

"She's sick, that one," the older woman, Irma, mused. "We've tried to help her. But her mind is quite plagued. You understand, yes?"

"I…" Dani hesitated. Everything was still so new that she didn't know who to trust, and it was clear that this woman didn't trust her. "Yeah," she lied. "We all say things when we're sick."

…

Pelle came in not long after, Irma catching him on his path and speaking to him in a low voice and handing him a small pouch. Pelle's face dropped at whatever the lady said before nodding and going on with his mission, the skip in his step now gone.

"I've brought you some stew," he chirped when he stepped to Y/n's bed. "Ulla tells me that has been your favorite as of late."

She sat up with a groan, watching Pelle set it at her bedside. She moved to speak, but he beat her to it.

"The elders… they don't think you should speak to Dani anymore." He sat on the side of her bed with his body facing her, though his head was down to avoid eye contact with her. "And after hearing what you said, I have to agree."

Ice poured down her veins, pausing the headache. "Pelle-"

"I think I have been too lenient with you," he admitted in a whisper, like even he didn't want to say it.

"No, listen to me-"

"I know adjusting has been difficult, but have we not been a home for you? Have I not been enough?"

She reached out to his sleeve, tugging on it. "You've been wonderful, I'm the one with the problems."

How easily she was manipulated.

"I think," he muttered, finally looking up at her. "I should stop connecting you with… outside influences."

"No!" She begged. "No, Pelle, you can't! Please!"

"The books, the art, I'll have someone come collect them tomorrow." He sighed and watched himself pick at his nails. "I knew it was a poor idea the moment I started it."

Hot tears fell down her cheeks as she continued tugging on his sleeve in a desperate attempt to make him reconsider. "I need connection, Pelle-"

"That is what they are talking about," he pointed out. "Connecting you to all of these things, making you feel like you are missing out, it is harmful to your little mind." He ran a hand over her hair as he said so. "It has made you dislike your home here." He stood. "And maybe I am the one to blame. I let you hang on to your old life. I should not have." He rubbed at his forehead in thought. "So I must apologize for this."

"What do y-" her sentence stopped in the middle as her eyes widened. "Don't take me away!"

"My American friends need to sleep here, and since we cannot have both you and them here at night, it is easier to relocate you. Perhaps a talk with Siv and a private room for a while will help this."

"No," she begged. "No, Pelle! NO! Not Siv, don't make me!" She cried in a desperate tone.

He sat again, sighing deeply and running a hand over her cheek in a calm manner. In a caring way. Like maybe he truly wouldn't make her. Like he may go back on his word. "It pains me to do so," he sighed. "So very much." His eyes searched hers, the deep blue irises studying her from the inside out, trying to find a way to be merciful yet firm. "Only until you have learned better."

He reached down to the small pouch he was given by Irma earlier, taking a pinch of the powder in it and holding it out in his hand in front of her. 

She tried to move away, but Pelle's blow was quick enough to send the powder into her face. She coughed immediately, prompting a large breath in and her eyes glazed over. 

Pelle caught her head gently, taking extra care when laying her down. 

…

When Y/n didn't show the next day, Dani finally got the nerve to ask Pelle where she was.

Pelle turned with a reassuring smile. "She had other matters. She will return soon, I'm sure." 

Dani nodded and pretending to forget about it. But the girl's words ran clearly in her head. 

They needed to leave.

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

[laursdomain]

Omg of course! Anything you write I’d be so happy to read!! :) yesss you really are giving him the character arc he deserves!! I’m sure anything you write will be absolutely amazing! Some ideas I had were a Xaden’s little sister OC, who would not be like Xaden at all, someone softer (imagine an overprotective older brother Xaden LOL). Or maybe a childhood friend of Dain’s who is not Violet? I feel like Dain would be good opposite someone he can take care of, since that’s all the poor guy had been wanting to do for violet LOL

let me take care of you

pairing: Dain Aetos x OC

OC: vera riorson

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, stitches; Dain is actually a really good guy; takes place in first part of iron flame

w/c: 1.6k

ྀིdain aetos masterlist

Fuck RSC.

It should be illegal to have the ability to physically and mentally torture students. Vera Riorson believed a lot of cadets would agree with her, despite being a marked one. It didn’t help that she was instantly singled out by Varrish, considering aside from Eya, she’s the only other marked one in her squad. Eya already finished RSC. It also didn’t help that she’s always been seen as the “black sheep” of her squad because she wasn’t as strong as the others, but her speed made up for it. 

Quite literally everyone expected her to be just like her brother, Xaden Riorson. To be insanely strong, top of her year, menacing, and absolutely cruel. Unfortunately, she didn’t live up to the standards, but she and Xaden preferred it that way. He preferred being able to protect his younger sister, and dreaded when it was her turn to cross the parapet. Alas, she also got their father’s determination, and made it through her first year with no issues. 

Now, she has to hold her own now that Xaden and Garrick have graduated. She could go to Eya, or Imogen, or even her own cousin, but she knew they’d report back to Xaden. No, she didn’t want to cause him any concern considering he is miles away, closer to the borders. 

While the rest of her squad headed to the infirmary to get mended from the minor injuries Varrish caused, Vera snuck away. Don’t let Nolon mend you, Bodhi’s words echoed in her mind from first year, when she had received her first major injury during sparring. Rather than going to Nolon, Bodhi wrapped her injuries himself in the solace of his room. Thank the gods he was her squad leader last year. 

As much as she loved her cousin, he was a tattletale. Somehow, the news of her injuries from RSC would get back to Xaden, and she couldn’t risk that. Vera knew the way back to her dormitory like the back of her hand, the pain throbbing in her stomach didn’t waver her determination to get back. The sooner I’m there, the sooner I can rest. 

“What in Amari’s name happened to you?” A deep voice came behind her, startling Vera. She jumped back, wincing from the pain. 

She glances up, meeting the brown eyes of her wingleader, Dain Aetos. She barely had the strength to muster the courage to scowl at him, so she settled against it. It’s not that she hated Dain Aetos, in fact she liked him. But she was a Riorson, and his father hated marked ones. 

“RSC interrogations,” Vera grits out, gripping her bloody abdomen. The blood had seeped through her makeshift bandages, the loss of blood was making her lightheaded. She needed to get to her room. 

“Let me take care of you,” she hears him speak over the thundering in her ears. She doesn’t fully register the weight of his words, but she finds herself nodding in agreement.

Dain moves forward, hesitantly reaching his arms out. He waits to see if Vera will flinch or run away, and when she doesn’t, he scoops her up in his arms. He half expects her to yell at him or fight her way out of his grasp, but she doesn’t. Instead, she welcomes his help, allowing her body to rest in his arms. Vera wasn’t proud of it, but it was the weekend. Nobody was walking around campus except for first years, and they knew better than to say anything. Dain silently carries her to his room in the wingleader’s quarters, sitting her on his desk chair. He leaves Vera, disappearing into the connected bathroom. 

Vera looks around the room, mindlessly taking in her surroundings. Dain had cream curtains up, in an attempt to bring some light into the already dark room. His comforter was black–no surprise there, but he had a cream-colored blanket resting on the end of his bed, the same color as the scribes' robes. Glancing behind her, she takes in the different textbooks and pieces of parchment Dain has neatly piled on the desk, presumably for his third-year classes he takes. His bookshelf had many different tomes littering it, though she didn’t recognize any of the titles. 

Soon, Dain returns, with a white box in his hands. He kneels in front of her, opening the box to reveal different first aid supplies. Bandages, alcohol, wipes, stitches–it had it all. 

“Can you tell me where you’re injured?” Dain questions, and his tone is surprisingly soft. It was a weird contrast to his wingleader voice. Vera can’t help but get flustered from it, but she shoves the feelings down. 

“My stomach,” Vera whispers, willingly removing her arms that had wrapped around her body in a weak attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“Can I lift your shirt?” Dain requests permission, hands hesitating to reach for her shirt.

“Yes,” she whispers, shrugging off her jacket. 

Dain lifts her blood-soaked shirt, folding it to rest atop her chest, still covering anything important. He takes an antiseptic wipe, cleaning around her wound so he can see it clearly. He uses one, two, three wipes to clean her stomach, throwing the bloodied wipes in the trashcan next to his desk. 

He takes a minute to examine her wound, determining how deep it is and if he’ll need to stitch it up himself. Once he determines that he’ll need to stitch her up, he takes another antiseptic wipe, cleaning the actual wound. Vera winces in pain, a yelp involuntarily leaving her body. Her hands fly out, finding purchase on Dain’s shoulders. He doesn’t protest as she grips his shoulders, an attempt to ground herself against the pain of the antiseptic cleaning her open wound. Dain throws the used wipe away, finally done cleaning it. Vera lets out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her head lowering in defeat.

“I’m going to have to stitch you, are you sure you don’t want to go to Nolon?” Dain questions, resting his hands on her thighs. Surprisingly, he didn’t question her reasoning on why she didn’t want to go to him, but she didn’t dwell on it too much. 

“I’m not going to Nolon,” Vera looks into Dain’s chocolate eyes, allowing them to distract her.

“Okay,” he reaches for the thread and needle, sanitizing the needle before gesturing for her to lean back. 

Vera takes a deep breath as the needle goes through her skin, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. One hand latches onto the bottom of her seat, her knuckles turning white. Her other hand instinctively wraps around Dain’s forearm, most likely leaving a bruise with how hard she’s gripping him. 

It takes a couple of minutes and many deep breaths until Dain finally finishes, tying the stitches to make sure they don’t unravel. He uses his free arm to grab the roll of bandages, letting Vera keep hold of his other arm. He manages to easily wrap a tight bandage around her stomach, protecting the stitches from anything. 

“Do you have any other injuries?” 

Vera shakes her head, still trying to calm her breathing from the pain she has endured in the past couple of hours. “Just bruises, I think.” 

Dain doesn’t say anything. He stares at the girl, and she can feel it. She becomes quickly aware at how close the two are, where she is, and the fact that she’s still holding onto him. Despite this, she doesn’t let go. Vera must’ve lost a lot of fucking blood if she’s holding onto Dain Aetos, someone who is supposed to be her enemy.

He forces her to let go, quickly walking over to his armoire, digging through the wardrobe until he finds what he’s looking for. He comes back with a Dain-sized black shirt, offering it to Vera. Almost like a peace offering. Vera takes it, realizing how ruined her own shirt is from her blood. Dain turns around, giving her privacy as she peels off the shirt, tossing it into the trash with the other bloodied wipes. 

She tugs Dain’s shirt over her body, relishing in how warm and comfortable it felt. It smelled distinctly like Dain, a mix of wood, leather, and something else Vera couldn’t put a name on other than the fact that it smelled like him. Vera becomes aware that she shouldn’t be sitting here, in his bedroom now that she’s bandaged up. She knows that she shouldn’t have accepted his shirt. She knows that her cousin and brother will have colorful things to say if they were to find out, but at this moment, she doesn't care. She definitely lost a lot of blood.

She doesn’t protest when he gently picks her up, the same way he did before, bringing her over to his bed. He lays her on the bed, taking the cream blanket and placing it over her. He goes to turn, before Vera’s hand flies out, gripping his forearm. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispers, and he notices something in her eyes. Vulnerability. 

“I won’t,” he promises. 

And he stays true to his word. He silently removes his boots and flight jacket, laying down on the bed with her. He allows her to slot herself under his arm, wrapping an arm around his abdomen and hooking one of her legs around his. She sighs out in relief when his other arm rests against the leg that wrapped around his, while the arm around her waist sneaks under his her shirt, rubbing circles on her bandage clad stomach. 

Vera finds herself struggling to stay awake under the weight of his arms, his smell, his mere presence, and the comfort of his fingers rubbing circles. Oddly enough, for once, she feels safe right where she is, and she doesn’t ever want to leave. It feels right, laying with Dain.

“Dain,” Vera whispers, her voice sleepy.

“Hm?” He mumbles, titling his head towards her. 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” She questions, slightly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“Of course, angel.” He whispers back.  

She smiles contentedly, chasing after sleep as it drags her away from Dain. She hears him hum a lullaby to her, but she’s deep in sleep once he places a loving kiss on her head.

[abby-s-phillips]

Checkmate

Medic!Reader x Sasha/Connie/Jean Trio (ft. Levi)

Summary: Reader is a medic for the Scouts and best friends with Jean, Connie, and Sasha. Jean and Connie get a superiority complex, and reader puts them in their place. Levi observes the whole thing and stands up for reader.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 685

"Must be nice, getting to stay inside all day," Jean teases as you finish wrapping a bandage around his arm.

"Damn, maybe I chose the wrong profession," Connie jokes, sitting on one of the nearby cots and swinging his feet while he waits for you to finish. Meanwhile, Sasha is preoccupied with stacking rolls of tape into a small tower.

You laugh along with them, but your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. You loved your friends. You really did. But lately, you had started to pick up a vibe.

It wasn't like they didn't appreciate you. You know that they did. Hell, you had patched each of them up more times than you could count. But they were all soldiers, and you were a medic. And you couldn't help but notice how their comments implied soldiers > medics.

And part of you understood. Setting broken bones and stitching up wounds wasn't as flashy as combat skills. But that didn't mean your job was less important. You were still a Scout. And infection could kill just as easily as a Titan.

Later that night, the group of you are lounging around the barracks. Jean and Connie are arguing over something stupid, and Sasha is chomping on a stolen potato, clearly just there for the vibes.

"I'm bored," Connie suddenly declares, then he rummages underneath a table and pulls out a chess set.

Perfect, you think to yourself, trying not to smirk. Typically, you would throw a few games when you were playing against your friends. After all, you wanted everyone to have fun, and you knew that Jean and Connie had a tendency to be sore losers. But tonight? You weren't going to hold back.

First up? You vs. Connie.

You decide to pull out one of your favorite tricks: the Scholar's mate.

"Checkmate," you say, your face betraying nothing. He goes to move a piece, and then realizes that he was, in fact, checkmated in four moves.

"What the hell?!" he blinks.

Jean shoves him out of the way, an arrogant smirk on his face, "Stand back. Let me show you how the real experts do it."

You decide to toy with him a bit. You let him take a piece or two. But in total, he only makes it 15 moves. His eyes widen, and he looks up at you.

"Connie was distracting me!" Jean says defensively.

"Maybe she's just better than you guys," Sasha hums, taking another bite of her potato while leaning over the arm of the couch.

And so it begins. Round after round, you obliterate Connie and Jean. It doesn't matter whether you play as black or white, and you even take one of your pieces off the board to make the odds more even. But the boys don't stand a chance. By your sixth win, they finally give up.

"You're cheating!" Connie accuses, picking up the board and looking underneath it, as though that could somehow explain away his losses.

Meanwhile, Jean is sulking with his arms crossed, grumbling something about dumb luck. Unbeknownst to any of you, that's when Levi walks in.

"Seriously?" Levi deadpans, causing you all to startle slightly, "You are accusing her of cheating?"

Jean opens his mouth, "She's never won this many times before--"

Levi raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, "Because she was obviously letting you win."

Sasha is attempting to stifle her laughter as the boys turn to you for confirmation, their faces screaming betrayal. You give a small shrug.

"Tch," Levi scoffs, "She's the only one at this table with more than two brain cells."

He turns on his heel, exiting the room and grumbling something that sounds awfully like pathetic.

You try to suppress the smile pulling at your lips. Sasha has taken it upon herself to line up the chess pieces based on height, and Jean is still pouting in the corner. Connie mumbles something about making you play chess blindfolded next time. You're not sure if the boys will ever stop being insufferable. But you hope that they at least respect you a little bit more after tonight.

[cherripie32]

Mizu Headcanons

AN: Broo ive just finished blue eye samurai and im obsessed w it..so here are some headcanons! SHE WAS SO FINE IN THE LAST SCENE BTW UGHH

(I’ll be separating it based on genre eg. angst or fluff)

Warnings: Angst, Contains mentions of death & murder, spoilers! The fluff is x reader

(if you know me irl, no you don’t)

Angst:

- Mizu often thinks about how life would be if she chose to forgave her husband and didn’t kill him

- After Ringo leaving her she feels awful for what she’s done and wishes that she could let go of her revenge path but cannot

- Once Mizu’s “mother” betrayed her and Mizu killed her, she still had the motive of killing her father, but instead of the motive to avenge her mother it was to curse the man that made her live in the first place

- She understood that she never should’ve been born in the first place and was born as monstrous, hence her obsession with revenge. But there is obviously a part of her that wants to live a peaceful life

- She normally has panic attacks but no one has ever witnessed them except Swordfather

- When she was with her husband (the night before the sparring) that was the only time she felt loved for who she was

- She wanted to show who she really was as her husband asked to, and once she did she was called “a monster” and now she’s reluctant to show anyone even half of who she really is

- She overworks herself to the point of exhaustion and most times collapses, forgetting to eat and rest

- Whenever she checks her reflection, she imagines herself with brown/black eyes

- (Canon) she wears the same clothes she wore since she was a child and stitches them whenever they tear

- because of her binder she often has trouble breathing but she’s so used to it she thinks it’s normal

- She once wanted to gouge her eyes out so she won’t witness the looks of disgust when they see her eyes

- She’s entirely convinced that there’s no way she’ll ever be truly loveable. She’s convinced she’s monstrous in every way, from the hues of her blue eyes to the violence she bears

(MY POOR BABY I LOVE HER SM I JUST WANNA SEE HER HAPPY N SATISFIED 😭😭)

Fluff/Not angst(finally)

- Love language is quality time & acts of service

- Although she’s not aware of it, she has an unconscious fixation with music. Mizu has always been drawn to musical festivals and it both calms and excites her

- If given the time, she normally asks if you want to go to festivals (her unnamingly pleading for you to agree) and her face is relaxed the whole time, her fingers intertwined with yours

- I feel her normal dates with you would be very simple. She’d enjoy just spending time with you, quietly or with small chatter

- She loves stargazing with you. My god. Laying beside each other, feeling each others warmth contrary to the harsh snow as you look at the different constellations

- Actually, you’d be looking at the constellation while she looks at you with a small smile tugging at her lips, while she adores the light in your eyes as you gaze up

- Speaking of holding hands she LOVES to hold your hand, doesn’t matter if your hand is cold or warm, it intertwines with hers perfectly

- Whenever you compliment her eyes she doesn’t believe you until you say it a thousand times

- takes a LONG time to warm up to you, but once she does it is SO worth it

- unconsciously misses your warmth, once sleeping she searches for your hand to hold or for you to hug

- speaking of hugging, i think she can be both spoons but mostly big spoon

- loves resting her head on your chest but loves wrapping her arms around you, ensuring that you are safe

AN: GUYS I NEED HER SO BAD U DONT GET IT

[spenceragnewfics]

as the ABSOLUTE CHAMPION of whumpfic in all fandoms, I will never not request fics in which he's hurt and y/n takes care of him. I will request this to literally anyone who will listen, the word must be spread. :P

(not really into the torture-style whump where there's someone like lowkey abusing them, gimme all the broken legs and car accidents and fainting spells and all that fun stuff. :P )

I have never written a whump fic and I've read very few but I hope this is what you were hoping for.

HIS CARETAKER | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

TW: Major injury, blood, needle, stitches

Word Count: 872

Description: Y/N has always been a caretaker, she just didn't realize how much she would need to be one for her boyfriend.

Y/N has always dealt with accident-prone people. Her little sister is very accident-prone so she’s been a caretaker since she could remember. When she moved to LA from her hometown, she didn’t think she would have to continue to be one until she met her loving but very accident-prone boyfriend, Spencer Agnew.

Spencer is one of the nicest, sweetest, most understanding people you could ever meet, but this man gets hurt just about every time he walks. Cuts, scrapes, bumps, everything you could think of this man has and very often. His hands are almost always wrapped in some kind of bandage done amazingly by his loving girlfriend.

Thankfully, he hasn’t had anything too major happen yet. No broken bones, no hospital visits, just small cuts and bruises. So Y/N is happy to take care of him as long as he doesn’t do something super stupid.

One day at Smosh, Y/N is putting the finishing touches on Arasha’s makeup before she goes to the games set. As the head of the makeup and hair department at Smosh, Y/N is always busy making sure the cast looks amazing.

“Okay, Rasha you look stunning as always. Now get Chanse over here, he’s my last one for this shoot.” 

“Of course, thanks again,” Arasha says before hugging her and walking off to get Chanse. Y/N gets a little bit of time to clean her brushes and area before Chanse arrives. While she’s doing that, she feels a hand on her back. Normally, she’d jump but the familiar cologne makes her smile instead, “Hey, honey. Whatcha doin'?”

“Just coming to see how everything’s going before we do this shoot. Are we still good for dinner tonight?” He asks, his hand resting on her waist while he looks at her lovingly. “Of course, you know I never turn down free food.” Spencer rolls his eyes with a small laugh before kissing her cheek. “If that’s how you see it, I’ll see you after the shoot.”

The two share a quick kiss before he walks off to the games set, “Honestly, you two make me believe in love.” Chanse says while walking over to the makeup station. “Well thank you. I know you’ll find the perfect guy one day, Chanse. Just gotta give it time.” She says, sitting him down as she starts on his makeup.

It doesn’t take her long to finish Chanse’s make-up and when she does, she starts to clean up. She has it down to a science after doing this job for so long. Checking the time, she sees that it’s still a while before the games shoot will be over so she decides to get her a snack.

Almost an hour later, the doors to the games set burst open with Courtney running out. “Y/N! Y/N!” They scream, looking around for the girl. Hearing her name being yelled, she gets out of her chair at her desk and looks around before seeing the blonde running up to her, “Court, what’s wrong?” She asks, holding her friend’s arms in comfort.

“It’s Spencer, he hurt himself. We need you, like now.” Hearing that her boyfriend is hurt, she quickly grabs the first aid kit she has at her desk before running with Courtney back to the games stage.

“She’s here, Spence. It’s going to be okay.” Arasha says when she sees Y/N running in. Everyone moves away as she gets close and kneels on the ground. She looks over at her boyfriend whose hand is bleeding heavily, a huge gash evident. “Shh, shh, it’s going to be okay, baby.” She assures him, as she opens the first aid kit.

“I’m so sorry, I was being stupid.” He says, trying to look at his hand but she stops him. “Don’t look at it, Spence. Just look at me.” She says, grabbing the needed supplies: alcohol wipes, thread, and a needle.

“What happened, guys?” She asks the room as she starts to clean his hand. “We were trying to do a bit but it went wrong and he got cut. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Chanse apologizes, his voice wavering. 

“It’s okay, I just…can we clear the stage for the time being?” She asks, her eyes not leaving the wound on his hand as she continues to clean it. “Yeah, yeah, come on guys.” Alex Tran says, moving into his producer role and having everyone leave, Y/N and Spencer being the only ones on stage.

“I’m so sorry, babe. You’re always having to take care of me and I just-” Spencer says, but she stops him. “Charles Spencer Agnew, I do not care. I take care of you because I want to. I love you and I will take care of you.” She says while grabbing the needle and thread.

“Now this will hurt but you need stitches. You’re lucky my mother was a nurse.” She teases before starting on the stitches. He winces every so often before she finishes and kisses it.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He says, smiling at her. “Bleed out or be dead on the side of a road.” She jokes before leaning in to kiss him.

[morgana-larkin]

I would love for you to write Agatha and reader and bath sex please

Hi anon! Ok so I was originally going to make it so reader gets injured and then Agatha goes into protective mode so hard, but then I thought of stubborn and power bottom Agatha. I will definitely make another fic with protective Agatha if you guys want but here’s the fic. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Make You Better

Warnings: Smut, service top reader, power bottom Agatha

Words: 1.9k

You watch as she stumbles in, outfit with some blood on it, and she has a small limp as she walks.

“Oh god, what happened?” You ask her as you rush over to her and help her reach the couch.

“One of the witches didn’t try to kill me with her powers.” Is all she says to you and you roll your eyes.

“I wish you would stop doing this. Not only are you killing witches but you’re putting yourself in danger. Like you stumbling in like this is exactly what I’m afraid will happen to you.” You tell her as you get the first aid kit.

“I’m fine, just a small cut.” She tells you and winks at you when you kneel in front of her.

“Small cut or not, I’m just a human, I can’t heal or protect you.” You tell her as you get the rubbing alcohol and put some on a cloth.

“You’re not just a human, you’re a human that I love.” She tells you with a smile. “And besides I don’t need you to protect me.” She adds on and you give her a look before cleaning her wounds. “Ow!” She says.

“Small cut my ass.” You mutter and you know she heard it. “Any deeper and this would have needed stitches.” You tell her as you patch her up.

“Either way I have my cute girl patching me up. I guess you actually do heal me.” She tells you and you shake your head at her with a smile.

“You’re a dork.” You say and finish patching her up.

“Can we have a shower together? I need to wipe all this dirt and sweat off of me.” She says and you shake your head.

“No, it's best if we go to bed and you can take a bath tomorrow.” You tell her and she pouts. “It’s your fault you went out and killed witches.” You tell her and she sighs. “We don’t want to damage your wound with all the chemicals in the hair and body wash. So it’s best to wait and then take a bath tomorrow as it won’t be hard on your wound.” You add on as you clean up and put the first aid kit away. You drag her to the bed, tuck her in and give her a kiss goodnight.

“You’re not joining me?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Like you said, you’re covered in dirt and sweat. I’m taking the couch.” You tell her and leave as she starts to protest.

You get ready for bed, lay out a sheet and blankets for you along with your pillow from the bed. You lay down and then you feel arms around you and you open your eyes. You look and see Agatha trying to cuddle you and you shove her off of you.

“Agatha, what are you doing?”

“I want to cuddle.” She says with a pout.

“Go back to bed, you need to heal.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed if you’re not there.” She says sternly and crosses her arms. Knowing that you’re not winning this argument with her, you grab your pillow and walk to the bed. Agatha follows behind you with a smirk on her face.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” You tell her without even having to look at her.

“I’m just happy that I get what I want.” She says as you both climb in the bed. “I always prefer cuddling with my wife.” She says softly as she wraps an arm around you.

“You’re such a sweet talker.” You tell her and she smiles at you before wrapping an arm around your waist. You move your body closer to her and she wraps her arm around you tighter and presses a kiss to the side of your head before putting her head back on the pillow and falling asleep.

She wakes up first the next morning and she puts her robe on and then goes to get food ready. You wake up a few minutes later and you go downstairs and see her making breakfast.

“You should take it easy as you’re injured.” You tell her and she scoffs.

“When do you ever see me doing that?” She asks you.

“Never, but you should so your body can heal properly.” You tell her and then walk up to her and give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Maybe you should make me.” She tells you and she turns the stove off and puts the food onto two plates she brought out.

“We’ll eat and then I’ll get a bath ready for you.” You tell her and she nods.

“I’d like that.” She says and gives you one of the plates and you both go sit to eat.

After breakfast you make her sit on top of the toilet while you run her a bath. After you finish getting the bath ready, you help her take her clothes off.

“Aren’t you getting in with me?” She asks and you look at her. “Please?” She begs and you give in.

“Alright, how can I say no to my injured wife?” You ask and she smiles before you strip off your clothes. You walk in the tub and sit down before she gets in and sits between your legs. She leans down to relax into your body and you wrap your arms around her waist, careful to not touch her wounds.

You get her to go forward a bit and instruct her to lean back so you can wash her hair. Her hair dips into the water and you get to work to wash out all the dirt from her hair. You don’t use any shampoo, conditioner or body wash as the chemicals might irritate her injuries. After her hair is dirt free, she sits up and leans back her body into you. You wrap your arms around her again and you both just stay like that for a few minutes before you begin rubbing the dirt off of her body. You accidentally touch her nipples a couple of times and she bucks her hips. She then takes your hand and moves it down to her entrance and you immediately smirk at her reaction.

“What do you want?” You ask her.

“I want you to stick two fingers in me and go slowly at first.” She tells you and you nod before lightly teasing her entrance then sticking a finger in her and then followed by another. The fact that you’re in the bath made it easy to slide your fingers in her. You start slowly pumping in and out of her just as she instructed and she starts moaning. You may be a top but she’s a big power bottom. Only a few times she’s let you take complete control and you honestly don’t mind.

“Does that feel good?” You whisper in her ear and she nods.

“Yes, start going faster.” She says and you speed up and she gasps and bucks her hips. You hold her down, mostly so she doesn’t re-open the cut on her stomach. “I want to set the pace I want.” She tells you.

“I know but right now just tell me the pace, I don’t want you to risk opening the wound.” You tell her and she groans before moaning.

“Circle my clit and go slightly faster.” She says and you do. You move your other hand down and start circling her clit and pump in and out of her faster. You see your hand moving under the water and see your other hand circling her clit, you then look at her and she has her eyes closed and mouth open. “Faster, I’m close.” She says and you let her buck her hips slightly and her breathing is heavy. You pump faster and circle her clit faster and she gasps as she comes. “Don’t stop, keep going.” She immediately says and you don’t stop. You keep going as she comes again and you carefully pull out of her and place loving kisses on her neck to help her come down from her high.

“Feel better?” You ask her and she nods. “Come on, let’s get out and dry so you can finally lay down and relax.” You tell her and you both get out. You both put on a towel and then you bring her over to the sink and grab the hairbrush. You carefully start brushing the ends of her hair before brushing higher and higher, until you finish brushing all of her hair. You thread your fingers through her hair a few times, you love her long dark brown hair. “How about you go sit down on the couch and I’ll change the sheets on the bed so you can relax in bed?” You ask her and she turns around and arches her eyes and you sigh.

“How about I help you change the sheets and then we lay down and you be my little spoon?” She tells you and you know her well enough that you aren’t changing her mind so you nod.

You know if you’re really serious about it then she’ll do as you say but she’s also very stubborn and likes to do things with you. She helps you change the sheets, and then she lays down and you check her wounds, clean and patch them up again.

“They seem to be healing as they look better than they did last night.” You say as you finish patching up the cut on her leg. “What did she cut you with?” You ask her and she winces at the memory.

“A knife that she carries, or carried.” She tells you.

“Alright, slip on these loose pjs and then I’ll join you in the bed.” You tell her and she does as you instruct. “How come you only listen to me when it benefits you?” You ask her as you slip on some pjs yourself.

“Because I like the reward.” She tells you as she finishes getting changed and walks up to you and wraps her arms around you. “And the reward is time with my favourite human.” She says and you giggle.

“I’m the only human in your life.” You tell her and she shrugs.

“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favourite.” She says and you smile at her. She then gives you a quick peck before you both crawl into bed and she spoons you. “By the way, I’m not surprised my injuries are healing when I have the best and sexiest nurse in the world.��� She tells you and you chuckle.

“And as your nurse, you’re not allowed to leave the house until both of them are healed.” You tell her and you turn your head enough to see her pout.

“But-” She begins to protest and you turn around and put a finger over her lips.

“Do as your nurse tells you.” You tell her and she pouts again before nodding. “And instead of complaining, how about you put that mouth to better use and kiss me and also make me cum?” You ask her and she smiles. She kisses you before trailing a finger down your body and plunges a finger in your entrance and you gasp into the kiss.

Taglist:

@imaginesmultifandoms

@morgananyx

Let me know if you want to be added!

[queenbee298]

oki oki i think i got it :D

y/n and the toys are just playing outside when y/n is noticing something weird, hearing leaves rustle and twigs snapping in the woods. Thats when y/n gets jumped by (oc) tingle and the toys jump to help but things lead to tingle now staying with them.

tingle can retract claws and teeth so sometimes she may hurt someone on accident, shes taller than kissy, and shes more of a toddler really, and she talks in slight gibberish. she was supposed to be apart of the big body experiment but was scrapped, None of the toys really know her since she wasnt introduced like the rest. Shes covered in mud, dried blood, leaves and sticks due to being in the woods for so long. (picture is of her being clean)

Thank you for Requesting a great idea to me. Request #7. Enjoy the story.

🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹🩹

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, you and the toys were outside having a picnic.

The mini critters and Yarnaby were running around. You prepared some snacks, sandwiches, and lemonade for the picnic.

Poppy: “It’s so nice to get out and relax.”

Y/n: “Yea, the sun’s sunshine, the birds are chirping, and the toys are playing.

Kissy wrote on her whiteboard: “The sandwiches are delicious!” 😋

Y/n: “Thank you, sweetheart <3.”

Doey: “And the best part is we’re all together and nothing can spoil this day!”

But as Doey said that, there were sounds coming for the bushes.

Poppy: “You had to say it.”

You and the toys noticed the sounds and you went to investigate.

Poppy: “Mom/dad, please be careful.”

Yarnaby and Doey came to your side, to protect you from whatever was in the bushes.

Kissy, Poppy, and the mini critters stayed behind, afraid of what could be lurking in the bushes.

It’s could be an animal or another bully playing a prank on you, but what jumped on top of you was a torn up toy. It was tall, taller than Kissy, covered in stitches, and has a stitched eye.

You were confused, thinking it was someone pulling a prank on you, but back in the factory, you remembered you saw some old files on scrapped bigger body experiment. She was covered in dried blood, mud, leaves, and dirt.

Y/n: “Tingle tangle?”

Doey grabbed tangle off of you and questioned who she was.

Doey: “Who are you and what do you want with them!?”

Yarnaby growled tangle, standing in front of you, protecting you from the unknown toy.

Y/n: “Guys, wait! Don’t hurt her!”

Doey: “You know this toy?”

Y/n: “Kind of. She was one of the bigger body experiments, but she was scrapped and went missing from the factory.”

Doey let of Tangle, still not trusting her.

Tangle: “Mama/Papa…”

Y/n: “Excuse me?”

Tangle: “Mama/Papa!”

She picked you up into a hug, leaving you confused.

Y/n: “Uh, let’s go inside…”

All you as the toys went inside to understand Tangle’s situation. You all sat in the living room to talk to Tangle.

You gave her some sandwiches, thinking she was hungry, and she was.

Y/n: “So Tangle… what went you doing in the woods?”

Tangle: “Ran away from factory. Lived in woods by myself. All alone.”

Poppy: “Were you an orphan at Playcare?”

Tangle: “Uh-huh. Was Told I would have mommy and daddy. Mean people hurt me and many needles. They poke and they hurt.”

She was on the verge of tears. You and the toys were all silent after hearing her past. The toys could relate to the trauma of the evil factory.

Doey sat next to Tangle.

Doey: “You’ve been through a lot…We know. But it will be okay. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Kissy wrote on her write board: “You’re not alone, we’ll be your family now.”

The mini critters and Yarnaby came over to comfort Tangle. Yarnaby rubs against her side, purring as she patted his mane.

Poppy: “It will be okay, we’ll keep you safe.”

Y/n: “If you want, you can stay with us. We’ll be your family now.”

Tangle’s eyes were filled with happy tears. She felt safe with you and the other toys. You wrapped her long arms around you all in to a big hug.

Tangle: “Family!”

Y/n: “You aren’t alone now, we’ll keep you safe.”

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

I hope you all enjoyed this story. The OC is super cute and I’m very happy with this story and I hope you like it too. Until next time <3!

[kayharrisons]

It's getting dark, darling, too dark to see [Bjorn x afab! Reader] [Part 2 of ?]

The first night is the hardest.

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A/N: omg I can't believe the reception on the first part of this!!! I had to start working on part two right away :) there will be MAJOR angst but a happy ending, I promise!! Also this is going to be more than one part, yay!!!!

Warnings for the series (updated, not necessarily for this chapter but for future ones): general alien themes, MAJOR character death, blood, graphic depictions of violence, trauma, trauma bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!), technical cousin incest (Kay/Bjorn), childbirth and pregnancy, implied nsfw content, Bjorn and reader get a lil co-dependent I can't lie guys, protective Bjorn and reader

Yvaga is so green.

You both stand at the windows in the cockpit, staring out into the trees, the bright sky, the fluffy white clouds.

It looks like a dream.

"I've seen it," Rain had said, what feels like a lifetime ago. "In my dreams." she had smiled sheepishly, ducking her head down in that endearing Rain way.

She's been dead for almost ten years, now. They all have.

Turns out Cryo-sleep doesn't speed past the grieving process. Their deaths still feel raw and agonising, an open wound that's just had rubbing alcohol doused all over it.

"...they'd be nine, now," Bjorn says, his voice a whisper, a shadow of himself. His eyes are dark, stormy, glued to the bright blue sky. "My kid. The baby. If we'd never left home it... it would've been... should've been nine now."

You don't know what to say to that, so you settle for reaching over, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. His hand comes up to meet yours, giving it a squeeze, before his head ducks down.

"Thank fuckin' god autopilot can land itself," he laughs, bitterly. "We were always the fuckin' worst at flyin'."

You hiss through your teeth, rubbing the back of your head at that memory. You'd forgone your seatbelt the first time Bjorn had tried flying under Navarro and Tyler's watchful eyes. Bjorn had panicked at the crush and swerved, you'd gone flying right out of your seat and earned a hefty ten stitches in your scalp for your trouble.

Bjorn had apologised profusely, you'd gotten him back by struggling with the throttle on the damn hauler.

Thank god for autopilot indeed.

You land near a forest, programmed to be about two hours away from civilisation.

You can't help but feel thankful for that, not sure how up to people either of you are at the present moment. People meant questions. Questions meant talking about your crew, what had happened.

"So," Bjorn claps his hands together, speedwalking past his grief for now, as he leads you to the small kitchen. "Got enough rations for about a year, that's with six of us, though-" he pauses, wavering a little, before clearing his throat. "-so, we've got plenty of time to figure out whateva the fuck it is we wanna do next. Won't go hungry any time soon."

You nod, scanning over the cabinets and shelves. Well stocked, clearly the others had been hoarding their rations for some time in the hauler, or making trades on the underground market. It's where Bjorn and Navarro used to get the good cigarettes, after all.

"I imagine we'll step out eventually, right? See exactly what Yvaga has going for it beyond a nice sunset." you remark, plucking out a packet of dehydrated corn bread. You rip it open, popping a chunk in your mouth, before offering the bag to Bjorn, who immediately tears into it.

"Could use a nice sunset," he huffs, shrugging at you. "Not like we've got any immediate plans for the evenin', right love?"

You relent with a grunt, taking the bag of cornbread back from him when he offers it. "Right." you agree, looking at him. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed firmly across his chest, his head ducked down ever so slightly. You glance down, lips twitching at the sight of his bare legs.

Somehow, that feels like the most alien thing you've seen lately.

"We should probably put pants on, huh?" you remark, and Bjorn blinks at you, eyes darting down to your own bare legs, then back up to your face.

"...I dunno. S'kinda freein', innit?" he jokes, shaking one of his legs at you. A snort makes its way out of you, and he grins, putting his leg back down. "Probably, though. Don't wanna get told to fuck off for runnin' around in our skivvies, we just got here an'all."

"It'd be such a pain in the ass," you agree, nodding your head. "Would have to plot a whole new course and everything, then fuck about with the cryo fuel. Easier to just put on pants and avoid the risk."

Bjorn groans, all the way back to the locker room as he rummages around his backpack to grab another pair of pants to shove his legs into. You follow suit, sliding an old pair of cargo pants up your legs.

Neither of you talk about the five other bags and sets of personal belongings hanging up on hooks and shoved into lockers.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It doesn't take long for Bjorn to get a fire going.

The hauler's doors remain open as you both sit outside, perched on a log before the little firepit Bjorn had put together. You've had your rations for the night, and some old-Earth song plays from the cassette player that Tyler had brought on board. Everyone had brought a varied mix of tapes.

This one was Bjorn's favourite, though, full of a bunch of rock songs he'd always had playing in the background as he helped Navarro with her tinkering, or when he was having a drink or two at home.

You both stare into the flames, cans of untouched beer in your hands. Aspen, you fucking hate the stuff. Bjorn had brought it onboard, though, and it was the only booze you had.

"...is it horrible that I kind of just want to go to sleep?" you ask, and Bjorn snorts, head lolling over to look at you. The flames dance over his pale face, illuminating it in the dimming daylight.

"Haven't had enough of that have ya?"

"Doesn't feel like it," you sigh, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, breathing the clean air deep into your lungs.

Bjorn grunts, looking away from you and focusing his eyes on the orange sky. "Know whatcha mean. Doesn't feel like any time's passed at all. Which is the point, I know, but..."

"Kind of wish it had, a little."

"Yeah," he agrees, before finally cracking open his can of beer. He holds it aloft, looking at you pointedly. You follow suit, and he taps his beer can against yours. "To the others."

Your throat feels tight at that, your eyes well up. Bjorn's own are misty, but you'd never dare remark upon it.

"To our family." you correct, gently, and he inhales sharply, before nodding.

"To our family."

You both take sips of the shitty beer, legs lightly touching as the sun sets, as the sky darkens.

You can't find it as beautiful as people described it, however. Not with the heavy weight of loss upon yours and Bjorn's shoulders.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You take the top bunk at Bjorn's insistence. He slips into the bottom bunk, the electric stun baton clutched tight in his fingers, his back to the wall and eyes staring out at the open space.

You don't comment on it as you clamber up to the top bunk, staring at the metal ceiling. Years of etched doodles, of signatures, of stickers and posters. All there for you to see.

You roll onto your side, facing the opening of the bunk. Your breathing slows, evens itself out, and yet the sleep you've desperately been craving evades you.

The ship is quiet. Everything all locked up and turned to off. The only sound is your breathing, Bjorn's too quiet for you to pick up on from the top bunk.

You don't know how long you lay awake, staring at the metal vent across from you, head aching more and more as you lay there unable to sleep. It's frustrating, sure, but you're rather numb to feeling anything else but grief.

Despite the grey of the ship, all you can see is red.

Red, as Navarro's chest burst open. Red, as Kay's blood splattered the glass. Red, as Tyler's warm, thick blood dripped down onto you. Red, as Kay's life drained from her. Red, as Rain's helmet was broken and she screamed for you to leave her.

Even Andy, as he twitched on the floor, choking on the white of his blood.

The silence is what kills you.

The ship has never been so quiet in all its life (of course, save for those 9 years you and Bjorn had been in cryo). It's unnatural, it makes your skin crawl.

Until, that is, you hear some muffled noises from the bottom bunk. You shift, propping yourself up on your elbows as you listen.

A sniffle, a shaky exhale, a shuddery inhale. A muffled cry.

Your heart twists as you realise what it is.

Bjorn is crying.

There's some shuffling from beneath you, and the noises muffle themselves. You're sure if you looked down, you'd spy Bjorn with his head buried in the pillow, trying to silence himself.

The urge to get up and comfort him is overwhelming. To hold his hand and grieve together, to try and get through this first night.

But you know him.

You've known Bjorn since you were eleven, both gangly awkward children. You've known him nine years, seen him at his best and worst. Seen him when grieving his mother, how he'd shut down towards everybody barring Navarro and... Kay.

You roll back over, electing to face the wall as the muffled cries continue. He doesn't need comforting, now, as nice as it would be to help him through it. No, he needs to grieve, needs this private moment to himself. You know he'd just end up clamming up with embarrassment if you tried to talk to him now, probably spout some bullshit about how men don't cry, fuck off.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, clutching the blankets tightly.

Neither of you sleep that first night.