#Infected’s to focused to speak the right words

[gradient-jeremy-asks]

Controller Troubles

[kazumist]

COULD IF YOU WOULD .ᐟ

✩ — the two times aventurine referred to you as his "work wife" and the one time he seems to have left out the "work" part.

✩ — includes: aventurine x f!reader. fluff (?), crack. cw: ooc!aventurine probably, very messy and i kinda hate this piece LOL. wc: 820. reblogs are very much appreciated !!

✩ — note: trying to write aventurine as his usual self now and not some delusional hc that i have of him yay! (i went through hell and back writing this just to get the dialogue match his way of speaking.) pretend that the ipc holds company dinners btw 🥹.

you don’t really know how it started. but maybe it’s because your co-workers tease you both too much about how you and aventurine act like an “old married couple” due to your constant banter, or maybe it’s because of aventurine’s (annoying) flirtatious remarks towards you.

however with the constant jokes and all, even aventurine got infected because there’s times when he would refer to you as his “work wife” as well. the first was when you were out at a company dinner. working in the same department with aventurine didn’t really help your… predicament, but for some reason, it wasn’t so bad.

“so how are you two love birds doing?” a co-worker asked, clearly drunk from the way they slurred their words and how red their face was slowly getting. aventurine just laughs at them—casually swinging an arm and resting it on the back of your chair. “my work wife here seems to be doing well, right?” he glances at you, a whiskey glass in hand, as he rotates it with his wrist. he was simply met with a glare in return. people wouldn’t care if you responded anyway because they’re too drunk to even remember this in the morning.

the second time was when you two got stuck in an elevator ride. and the worst part? aventurine purposely pressed at least four floors below your destination on the panel just so he could chat with you. “wouldn’t it be a nice idea to ditch work for today?” he asks, his eyes focused on both of your reflections from the elevator’s doors.

“you’re insane.”

“my dearest work wife, you wound me! i was simply asking you out.”

“no one would ever agree if you asked them in that way.” you refused to make eye contact with him.

“if i asked normally, then where’s the fun in that?”

when the elevator hit the current floor, you made your exit despite the floor not being your destination yet. 

of course, he had called or referred to you as his “work wife” many more times than this. however, as for the third one, it was when you were assigned to work with aventurine to dig up some information in a bar of sorts. a bar is quite a dangerous place in general, but you both had no choice but to split up so work would be faster.

that is, until you started being pestered by some stranger at the bartender’s counter.

no matter how many times you told him to go away (in reality, you really wanted him to go fuck off already), he was just being too persistent. but you couldn’t do anything because it would most definitely cause a scene—and you don’t want that. it was starting to suffocate you, how the stranger kept getting closer.

“dear, who is this?” you knew that voice from anywhere. you looked over to your side and saw aventurine next to you, already wrapping his arm around your waist as he looked at the stranger from head to toe. after telling him that you had no idea, you swore you could’ve seen his jaw clench for a quick second. playing along was mandatory with how the situation is turning now, even if aventurine had to pretend that he was actually your partner (well, technically, he is your partner for this assignment).

“who knew that there was actually someone indecent enough to hit on someone’s wife?” it was weird. you always felt icked by how aventurine kept calling you his “work wife." but this time, it was weird. and you hate it.

because you had a revelation that you liked the fact aventurine called you his wife at this very moment.

aventurine has a way with words. he always does; he knows what to say to rile up someone—to provoke them. it was no surprise that the stranger became another one of aventurine’s victims when it came to his provocative terms. yet, it was all over in a blink of an eye because the guy retreated. (you weren’t able to understand what aventurine specifically said to him, but does it really matter at this point?)

“are you alright?” he asks. 

“yeah. thank you.”

“how about we hit the hay for tonight? i managed to gather some information anyway.”

“agree, i was able to catch some as well.”

“really now? we make a great team, don’t we?”

“don’t let it get to your head, aventurine.”

he chuckles. “i was serious, though.” you look at him, confused. “about…?” aventurine leans to your ear and whispers low: “we could actually get married if you would let me do the honors of asking for your hand.”

thwack!

“ow! hey! i was only kidding! okay maybe i wasn’t but—hey! that actually hurts a lot now!” he yelps as you slap him by the shoulder repeatedly. “you’re insane, i tell you!”

maybe being called aventurine's work wife had its perks after all.

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

[minaturefics]

There Will Be Time

Request: I have a request for Boromir x reader! (My favorite of yours is "Anything But This"). What if Boromir survived the Uruk-Hai ambush by getting pierced by just one arrow, was saved by Aragorn and helps pursue the orcs to save Merry and Pippin? He still carries the wound of the arrow and the guilt of attacking Frodo, but his internal and external wounds begin to heal by falling in love with a shield-maiden of the Rohirrim.

A/N: Thank you for waiting! I actually wrote part of this before my hiatus and finished it recently so hopefully it doesn't feel too disjointed!

Boromir x Reader

Fem reader

Content warnings: Vague mention of battlefield carnage

3.9k words

---

It was day but the sky was dim and overcast and tinged with an ominous red that bled from the horizon. The clamour and chaos from the city and the citadel seeped through the walls of the Houses of Healing, and even the matrons and patients were restless with the mustering of the army. You paused by an archway, staring out at the plains, still dotted with blood and bodies, and looked to the horizon. In a day or two, the people will march. And the fate of Middle Earth would be determined. 

You carried on along the corridor, cradling your bandaged arm, wishing you had accepted the healers’ suggestion of a sling, and searched for Eowyn. It had been a terrible day in Dunharrow when you realised she had gone off with the army. Your princess, your future queen, but more than that, a friend, a sister almost. You had ridden after them, arriving just in time for the battle, and your heart had shattered when you heard Eomer’s cry of anguish on the field. 

You rounded a corner, eyes still half-focused on the horizon, and collided with someone. Pain flared in your arm and you hissed. The other person let out a pained groan and a sharp exhale. Righting yourself, you looked up at them and saw a familiar face.

“Boromir?”

He looked better than he did the past week, laid up in bed, pale and delirious with fever and infection from the arrow wound in his shoulder. It seemed that the matrons finally allowed him out of bed and granted him a bath, for his hair was damp and his beard was trimmed. Colour was coming back to his face and he looked more like the strong man you saw a few months back when he had stopped by Edoras to borrow a horse. 

“My lady,” he said, astonished. “My apologies, I was not watching where I was going.”

“I am equally at fault. I was distracted by the sky.” He nodded, understanding. “I was looking for Eowyn, have you seen her?”

He chuckled a little, the smile softening his face to something cheeky and boyish. “She is with my brother. The last I saw of them they were talking on one of the balconies. I think it is best we leave them undisturbed.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.” He grinned. “Though, if you are in need of some company I will happily volunteer my own.”

Your acquaintance with Boromir was still a fresh one; he had not come with his companions to Edoras and instead had gone ahead to Minas Tirith. It was visible to anyone that Faramir had some amount of admiration and interest in Eowyn, but it puzzled you why Boromir always seemed to come along to the rooms where you and Eowyn were staying when Faramir visited. And when Faramir and Eowyn were lost in their own conversation, you would speak to Boromir.

Seeing him up close and at length, it was easy to believe the stories of bravery and valour about him that spread to Rohan. He spoke with a sureness and an authority, logical and bold with his opinions. But of course, none of the stories mentioned how quick to laugh he was and how freely smiles came to him, and of course, there was no mention of the endearing  avuncular fondness he seemed to have for the hobbits.

 Still, there was a grimness to him, a darkness that seemed to pass in his eyes every once in a while, his expression turning from elated to guilty when he spoke of the halflings, particularly Frodo and Sam.

Was there something there? He had said that the fellowship had become separated when the Uruk-Hai attacked, but he always omitted the reason for the separation, or what drove Frodo and Sam to be foolhardy as to continue on the quest alone.

“My lady?” Boromir said, a frown forming on his face. 

“Forgive me, I have been lost in thought,” you said. “Your company would be delightful.”  He offered you a fleeting smile and the both of you drifted towards one of the small balconies overlooking the fields. You rested your arms on the cool bannister and gazed out at the carnage. 

“I wish I could go with the soldiers to The Black Gate,” you murmured. “I feel guilty that I am unable to fulfil my duty to my people.”

“I understand what you mean,” he said, voice low. “To have my father so recently gone, and Faramir and I here… It feels as though the House of the Steward is shirking its duty.”

“But you have done your duty — shepherding the ringbearer, travelling by yourself from Rohan to Minas Tirith, wounded, to warn your people. But me?” You could not help the note of bitterness that seeped into your voice. “I did not fight at Helm's Deep, I left my people at Dunharrow, arrived just in time to join the battle here and still managed to wound myself and fail to defend my lady Eowyn.” 

“I would tell you not to be so harsh on yourself, but I think it would be hypocritical of me.” He gave you a wry smile before his face grew serious again. “Though, my time away from my city and the hours I have spent alone here in bed have made me question how I value pride and valour and duty. It has made me wonder how easily the pursuit of such things may warp one’s actions.”

You eyed him, curious but cautious. The red light on the horizon only served to highlight his handsome features. The line from his brow to his nose was strong, and his chin was lifted, still proud and noble even in such dire circumstances. And his eyes, all grey and cold steel, were burning with intensity. 

Would it be better to be tactful? Or would directness be best with a man like Boromir? 

“Did something occur on your quest?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light. “Such thoughts rarely arise without some sort of event to drive them.”

He paused and looked at you, his gaze hardening then softening. He let out a long breath and shook his head. “You must forgive me. You have been frank with your… perceived failings, but I fear I am still too proud of a man to admit my own. Perhaps in time I will forgive myself enough to share my shame.”

You nodded slowly. “I hope when the time comes you will find in me a good enough friend to speak of such things. Sometime in… the future.”

“Ah yes, the future. Here on the cusp of destruction, can we even speak of such things?”

“I must confess, I have lived so long in the shadow of the Enemy, I am uncertain what I shall do with myself once it is all over.” You sighed, wistful. “My family rares and cares for the horses that the Rohirrim ride on — it is how Eowyn and I met as children — I was to carry on the tradition but… More swords were needed, and I felt a need to stand by and protect Eowyn while she was still restrained by the trappings of her position.”

He hummed. “I am the same as you — I do not know what I shall do once we have victory and peace. I suppose either my brother or I will take up the mantle of Steward. Faramir is far more suited than I am, so I’ll have to find some way to occupy myself.” He grinned. “Maybe I shall take up smithing or music or… weaving.”

You laughed, lightness slowly filling your chest. “All those things require patience, Boromir. Are you sure you have enough supply of it?”

He chuckled. “We will have to see. I have not had much time in my life to explore what else I may pursue and enjoy.”

“I am the same. Maybe I will join you in your smithing or music or weaving.” 

Another laugh burst from him and suddenly he looked young and boyish, his head thrown back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and your heart leapt from your chest. You turned away from the horizon and looked towards the comforting warm light of the torches. “We should make a list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, to ensure we have a good variety of activities to try. At the very least, it would serve as a distraction for the time being.”

“Very well.” He gestured towards the corridor, a wide smile on his face. “Lead on, my lady.”

-

Boromir frowned at the paper flower in his hand. The binding’s tension was uneven and the delicate paper was mangled and creased. Merry and Pippin had somehow convinced him to help them make decorative flowers in preparation for Aragorn’s coronation. The hobbits had shyly offered to create something for the high table, and Aragorn, forever fond of his little friends, had given them free reign. 

He sighed and tossed the ruined flower off to the side. 

You came through the archway and into the little alcove the hobbits had commandeered and smiled at him in greeting.

You were dressed in a set of borrowed clothes and your hair was done up in a simple braid. The Gondorian cut and style complemented your figure, and you stood strong and healthy and radiant. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, before he looked back down at the table. You were not for him, never for him. If you knew the depths of his treachery, there was no doubt you would scorn him.

The last couple of weeks were spent in a wild fervour. Between managing the city with Faramir, he had attempted the activities on the list he shared with you. You had excelled in the wood carving, your little bear more detailed and fine than his, but he had bested you at the loom, his piece of fabric coming out more smooth and even than yours. Pottery, painting, gardening, juggling, needlework — the both of you attempted whatever your injuries allowed.

He adored the way you looked when you were concentrating. Your eyes were downcast and focused, your brow just slightly knitted, and you had this endearing habit of tilting your head just so when something vexed you. Each time he met with you, he searched for ways to elicit your smile, fumbled with something just to get you to laugh, even at his own expense. What a privilege it was to see the respected and stalwart shield-maiden soften and melt. It was even more of a privilege to watch you with the horses.

The old stable master had taken to you instantly, curious and interested in what you had to say about the care and rearing of horses, and nearly every morning you had gone down to the stables to check on the animals. He had watched as you taught the shy stableboys how to braid the horses manes, your deft fingers working the strands, and listened as you told them what sort of grains and seed were best for the foals.

You seemed to come alive in the stables, eyes bright and smiles brighter. Was this what you looked like unburdened by duty and responsibility? Was this what you could become, always?

The stablemaster was old, due to retire, and perhaps…

He shoved the thought out of his mind. 

You were friendly enough with him, playful and affectionate with your comments sometimes, but if you knew the truth… How could someone like you, loyal and strong, look past his mistake with Frodo? No. It was better to keep you at arms length, as a friend. Whatever disappointment you felt with him would be more tolerable.

“Having trouble?” you asked, plucking the ruined flower from the table and holding it up to the light. 

“You are welcome to give them an attempt if you wish,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. “Valar knows we’ll need more hands if we are to finish these. I can teach you.”

You slid into the chair and watched as he moved through the steps. The flower looked better than its previous counterpart but it still looked a little wrong somehow. “Where are Merry and Pippin?” you asked, taking a sheet and mimicking his steps, folding the paper and trimming the edges.

“They have gone to visit Frodo and Sam.”

“And you did not follow?”

He shook his head and kept his eyes fixed on the sheet of paper. In truth, he had already gone to see Frodo. There, in the quiet and privacy of Frodo’s room, Boromir had wept and fallen to his knees, asking, nearly begging, for forgiveness. Frodo’s eyes, so wide and expressive, had softened and watered. He clasped Boromir’s hand, bid him to rise, and gave his forgiveness right then and there. 

But how could it be so simple? So easy? Was there not some sort of trial, some sort of penance, that he must perform to earn such forgiveness? 

You let out a little gasp of delight and presented your flower to him. It was beautiful and well formed, the petals fanned and splayed, the perfect facsimile of a blooming flower. “You know,” you said with a smile. “This is probably one of the more agreeable activities we have done.”

He wished he could spar with you, to connect with you in the mutual language of battle,  but alas, your injuries and his were still healing. He rolled his shoulder, the muscle still stiff and sore from the wound, and grimaced.

“It is still not healing well?” you asked, lowering your flower.

“The infection from before did more damage than previously thought. It is healing, just slowly, the matrons assured me.”

“Merry and Pippin told me how you faced the Uruk-Hai by yourself. Truly, a remarkably brave act.”

He deflated a little in his chair, thumbing the edge of the thin paper. “Bravery did not enter into my mind at that time. I thought only of my friends who, at that time, were neither ranger or soldier.” 

“Still, it was a brave act.”

“Brave… but not strong.”

“Boromir,” you said, exasperated. “The fact that you are still alive now is testament to your strength.”

“It is not the strength of body I am speaking of but rather the strength of will.” He shook his head and forced a smile onto his face. “What am I speaking about? These are merry times and happy days — we should not dwell on such ill things of the past.”

You paused, eyeing him. “Just as our bodies sometimes fail us, so do our minds. In Rohan, we learn in our training that it does us no good to fault and blame our bodies when they cannot perform as we wish — it simply gets in the way of learning, and more importantly, healing — it would seem remiss to not extend that same grace to our minds.”

Grace. Forgiveness. Gentleness. He had never been able to afford such luxuries, not ever since his mother died and he and Faramir had to grow up all too fast in the shadow of Mordor. Faramir seemed to be easing into the position of Steward comfortably, looking far more at home in the office than he did in the barracks, and even Eowyn was getting on well in the Houses of Healing. 

People were… moving on. Or at the very least, trying to. 

He picked up a sheet of paper and began folding it, binding the middle and trimming the ends. He started to unravel the petals but only managed to put his thumb through it.

 Could he move on as well? Was he allowed to?

“Here, like this,” you murmured and reached over. “Slowly. Gently.”

You guided his fingers, and right in his hands, his flower bloomed.

-

Early morning light glowed through the open ends of the stables. The air was warm and musky and you inhaled, relaxing into the familiar scent of horse and hay. The stableboys were yet to turn up for the day and you took your time greeting the horses individually. One of your favourites, a beautiful black steed with a glossy coat, nudged your outstretched hand and dipped its head while you stroked it affectionately. 

There seemed no end to the post-war celebrations with the coronation beginning a stream of parties and dinners, lunches and teas, but finally after nearly two weeks, the city was blessedly calm. You pressed your forehead to the cheek of the horse and sighed. He was warm and solid, grounded and real. The days and nights had passed like a dream. Boromir, smiling at you over the rim of his mug. Boromir, meeting your glances across the room. Boromir, taking you into his arms, your bodies moving in sync with the music.

He had been so close, so warm. His smell, salt and cedar, enveloped you. You had looked up into his eyes, the candlelight flickering in them, and nearly leaned in.

The horse snorted and you stepped back. What were you thinking? There was no time for such things. You were still yet to find yourself in this new world of peace, King Theoden still needed to be buried and mourned. Eowyn would return to Minas Tirith in due time — Faramir had all but formally proposed, waiting for the mourning period to be over — but what about you? 

Eomer had assured you that if you wished to return to Rohan there would be a place for you as part of the personal guard but was that something you even wished for yourself? 

Minas Tirith had grown on you. The bustle of the morning markets, the distant bell that tolled every hour, the ivy covered walls, the polished marble. Boromir had even promised to take you to Dol Amroth to see the ocean one day. And Eowyn would be here in Gondor.

It had been so lovely working with the horses and the stableboys, your muscles remembering the things you had been taught as a child. It felt like some part of you, long dormant, was finally waking up. The stable master had mentioned that he was planning on retiring soon. Perhaps you could speak to Boromir and Faramir about filling the post. 

You hummed to yourself. With Boromir retaining his position as Captain of Gondor, there was something deeply satisfying about the thought of caring for the steeds he and his men would ride on. 

“My lady?”

You turned and found Boromir standing by the entrance of the stable. He was in his casual tunic and trousers, and his hair was lightly tousled. Boromir looked the best liked this, just slightly dishevelled, loose and relaxed. 

“Good morning,” you said. “It’s early, even for you.”

“I wished to speak with you. You and Eowyn will be heading back to Rohan in a few days and I wanted to discuss something with you before you left.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Very well. Let us speak outside.”

He nodded and the both of you made your way out to a small open balcony that overlooked the rest of the circles. The air was warm and balmy and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted on the breeze. Boromir stood beside you and surveyed the city. 

“I never thought I would see the day where there was no shadow on the horizon, that my people would wake and live in peace.”

“Yes,” you murmured. “There is change in the air, a renewal. It is quite exciting to witness.”

“Speaking of change…” He turned to face you. “I am sure you are well aware that our stable master is thinking of retiring. Faramir and I have been discussing and we were wondering if you would be open to fulfilling the position.” He glanced away then back at you. “You and I will be working with each other, of course, with regards to the Calvary. Before you accept, there is something… something I wish for you to know.”

His eyes swept down and his jaw tensed. “Go on, my friend,” you said gently. 

“The Ring… I had tried to take it from Frodo. He had gone off to think and I had followed him. In my weakness, I —” He swallowed. “That was why he had continued on alone with Sam.”

You had suspected as much, gleaned from his various comments and the way he would both keep his distance from Frodo but be overly courteous in his presence. “The Ring had tempted many over the years. I do not think any less of you. And… this may be presumptuous, but knowing you, I suspect you were motivated out of love for your city and your people rather than any personal gain.”

He exhaled, short and sharp, and a wry smile crossed his face. “You know me too well.”

You shrugged. “We are friends, are we not? Friends and —”

You snapped your mouth shut and looked away. What were you going to say? ‘More’? How foolish. The man had just offered you a job, for Valar’s sake. He was a friend. A friend.

“And?”

You hazarded a look at him. His eyes were wide and his lips were parted in disbelief. Was it possible that…? 

“I… I do not know,” you muttered, and he deflated a little. His mild disappointment emboldened you and you continued. “Sometimes, I think I see more in your eyes, but I can never be sure.”

“You are not mistaken,” he said, straightening his shoulders and meeting your eyes. Your heart sped up and hope sparked in your chest. “But I do not wish for this to sway your decision in accepting the position. I —”

“Either way, I would accept. I do accept.” You smiled. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to oversee and care for the steeds of Gondor. Except, perhaps,” you added softly, “being able to be by your side.”

A smile broke out on his face, open and unguarded, and the years fell away from him. He offered his hand, palm up, and you reached out, intertwining your fingers with his.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Faramir has always berated me for my lack of romantic tendencies and I always dismissed him. For the first time, I wish I had paid more attention in my poetry classes.”

“I do not need to be wooed with poetry and flowery words, Boromir.” You laughed and he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “Besides, it is not our way.”

“What is the Rohirric way?”

“Sometimes courting couples braid the manes of each other’s horses, weaving in their family’s colours or tokens. Wealthier families exchange horses to show that their horses are healthy and well-trained, that they can be trusted with the care of their partner, to carry and support them through life.”

He nodded. “I like that. It is practical and… sweet, in a way. I would offer to give you a horse, but I have just given you a stable full of them I suppose.” You laughed and he shared a smile with you. “In seriousness, I wish to court you properly. I understand that you will have to go back to Rohan, and there are matters to sort out. But when you return to Minas Tirith…”

“Yes. Whatever you wish, yes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever I wish? A dangerous thing to say.”

“I trust you.”

He leaned in and kissed your temple, his warm breath tickling your hair. He smiled against your skin and drew back.

“So yes,” you murmured, grinning. “Whatever you wish.”

___

I really wanted the reader to have some sort of arc/development as well, and not just act as some developmental catalyst for Boromir - I hope that came through.

@mileycyprus-hill

[freyito]

can write a head cannons on how the Lin Kuei trio would react to their s/o getting injured from a mission they just got back from and their s/o was trying to hide it from them? (not a serious life threatening injury, more of either they had a deep cut or bruised ribs, something like that)

im in the mood for some angst since i havent gotten any requests for it yet (this is ur time, anons ;) ), i know this prompt is pretty fluff-y, but i'm gonna make it a little bit more angsty. im also gonna write this a little bit different, since i'm real real into this request and writing angst is my specialty. sorry this took so long btw!!!! i had a hard time focusing for like a week, but im back in the mindset and i hope you all enjoy this!!!

cw: gn reader, little bitty angst, mentions of injuries & scarring, bruised rib, laceration, contusions, proofread.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ + ᴀɴ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ ꜱ/ᴏ

-Tomas Vrbada

Tomas was just glad both of you had returned safely. The threat was neutralized, and neither you, nor him had sustained any fatal injuries. Maybe you had gained a couple new cuts that would make nice scars, with stories to match, but he had sworn that was the lot of it. He was able to get you patched up before returning, but he had still insisted on meeting a doctor, an alchemist, anything that could help further. Especially since he was worried about infection. But you had reassured him that you were fine, the mission was over and all you needed was rest to heal up properly.

That night, you writhe in bed, finding some sort of comfortable position to ignore the seething pain in your chest. It wasn't lethal, no, but you did require medical attention. However, it was something that Tomas would worry about. And with the mental hardship of that mission, you knew that was the last thing he needed. The very last thing.

Biting your lip, you let out a sharp breath, before finding the optimal laying position. Uncomfortable, yet the pain was minimum. This was the path to healing, regardless. You rest your hand on your chest, as if to control your heartbeat. Something about that pain just made your adrenaline spike, as if you had been running for your life. Your head throbs, your breath feels short, and your vision ever-so-slightly blurs. It's psychosomatic, you know it is. But you had lied to Tomas, to yourself, and your guilt is eating away at your sense.

Lightheaded, you turn your gaze to the door, meeting eyes with your beloved. Horror resonates within his eyes, like the flame of ambition had died down and left only the ashes of regret in its wake. Tomas had watched you, roll and writhe and squirm and groan. His voice trembled, something lurking behind those sweet words of his.

"You lied?"

It is not that. It is not that you lied about being unharmed. It was the fact that now, even so desperately in pain, he knew he couldn't protect you. He didn't. And perhaps it had been the fact that you didn't trust Tomas enough to tell him about your chest, as he perceived it.

You propped yourself up on your arm, exhaling a painful amount of regret. And at that, Tomas flinched, almost instinctively. Not as if you were going to hit him, no, as if you were going to fall. Before you could even get a word in, to argue that you hadn't lied, you were worried, anything. Any single word. Tomas had rushed to the bedside, looking down at you now. His emotions showed clearly, hurt, mainly. But behind that, all sorts of emotions welled up in his chest. Anger, betrayal, pain, empathy. He wants to pick you up, he knows he can't. But there's a part of him that suddenly yearns to touch you, now, right now. Begging, pleading within him. But instead, he swallows that feeling and saves it for when you make a full recovery.

Tomas calls a medic, promptly. He finds it hard to speak. He doesn't go mute, he's just overwhelmed with all sorts of negative emotions that all the words he'd say get choked up in his throat. As the medics show up and end up escorting you away with a wheelchair, Tomas can't help but stay behind. He looks at the bedside as if you aren't in better hands now, mourning almost. He knows you can take care of yourself, you're strong and skilled. But this is why he worries, he's afraid of you getting hurt, still. A nightmare, that's what it is. Knowing it's not something you're willing to speak of outright, either. Before he continued on to follow the medics, he took a couple seconds to control his breathing, and steady his emotions.

Until your rib had healed, Tomas stayed by your bedside. Day in, day out. None of the nurses could even get him to move, especially after visiting hours were over. For such a minor injury, it broke something inside you to see the man, hunched over at your bedside.

-Bi-Han

With the end of a successful mission, Bi-Han was happier to be home. Losses had been kept at a minimum, but as always, there had been more than his fair share of blood spilled. Injuries were common, both you and him knew that. And he had always made sure that you, out of anyone- especially anyone close to him- had been unscathed. Granted, he knew, with even low-scale fights, injuries were bound to happen. He takes pride in how strong you are, knowing that you are more than fine on your own. But he also takes pride on being able to be there. To protect you when you somehow fall short.

Somehow, you had weaseled your way out of a medical exam. As crucial as it was, you knew Bi-Han had a bad habit of worrying over the smallest things. Especially when it pertained to you. The only thing you were left with was a laceration on your shoulder, which was hastily covered with loose gauze. It wasn't anything that drew attention, but moving your arm in a particular way or pressure had definitely would've caused it to bleed again.

That evening, you were out with Bi-Han, enjoying the fresh air and relishing in your victory. It was a regular occurrence, something you both did either in the dead of night or in broad daylight. It was something you two did for yourselves. Bi-Han enjoyed it, getting to spend time with you, surrounded by tranquility and near bliss. It was a nice distraction from his duties as Grandmaster. To spend time with you, hold you tenderly, whisper what he had thought of you, or maybe just enjoy your presence. It was hard for him, but he loved being vulnerable with you, it was one of the few instances of trust he had shown anybody.

So, when Bi-Han had gently caressed your shoulder, the hitch in your breath scared him. The first thought in his mind had been regret, as if he had hurt you. Until you reached for your shoulder, and covered your wound. He had not applied any pressure, but the wound had been irritating you. When you met Bi-Han's warm eyes, the heartbreak almost shot a hole through your heart. When you reached for him, to reassure him it was okay, just an odd reaction, he turned his head away. As if he had betrayed himself. Now, you could see the thoughts processing in his head, each one worse than the last. He wasn't afraid of hurting you now, he was afraid that his actions would lead to this reaction. He was afraid that you had feared him.

You reached for him once again, only now catching his attention and fishing him out of his thoughts. He looked sorrowful, the previous answer lingering on his mind. You could almost see his lips quiver, until he laid his eyes on the gauze peeking out from just under your shoulder. His regret turned into curiosity, and before he could reach in to take a closer look, your guilt took hold. To redirect his attention, you cupped his face ever-so-gently, hoping it would not only distract him, but that it would keep his thoughts at bay.

Mistake number one, really. Bi-Han's fears had been disproved, but now he knew you had been hiding something from him. He couldn't take his eyes off the bandages, yet he leaned into your touch. Simple assurance, for a simple cover-up. He reached for your shoulder again, lifting up the hem of your sleeve. He didn't need a second look, but he took one anyone. You recoiled slightly, caught in your lie. When his eyes met yours, they weren't full of anger, or hurt. Worry, mostly.

"Were you hiding this from me?"

In a way, those words stung. You didn't want to stress him out, and more-so, you didn't want to deal with the medics either. Bi-Han furrowed his brows, rolling his tongue over the bottom of his teeth. The very real threat of infection was present, with a cut that deep. Your injury wasn't fatal, he knew that. But his fear of infection reigned over that. Without a second thought, his hand strayed to your wrist, and pulled your hand away from his face gently. His gaze wasn't cold, it was rather warm. But you could tell he was annoyed that you had hid your injury from him.

With a soft and quick gaze, Bi-Han interlocked his fingers with yours, and led you out of the woods, to the medics. He's tense, he's almost horrified of infection. He's afraid that it'd be too late to catch it.

Bi-Han watches the medics the entire time, arms crossed. He only relaxes when your wound is cleaned and bacitracin is applied. And, out of precaution, he redresses your wounds every day. He'll talk to you about hiding things from him, especially wounds.

-Kuai Liang

With another mission complete and another win under his belt, Kuai Liang had become quite relaxed. With very little injuries to you and himself, he was actually quite proud. At least, that's what he had thought. Normally, Kuai Liang is observant. He can catch any discrepancy in your behavior, and that's what made him so hard to get around. Unfortunately, the wound you had been trying to hide was especially annoying, and in an even worse area. A contusion on your thigh, something that made it increasingly hard to walk.

But, you knew Kuai Liang had no need to worry over you. As much as he loved you, and you love him, you would rather not put another weight on his shoulders. As skilled as he was, fighting had always stressed him out, especially the aftermath. And he could never forgive himself for letting you get hurt, even if you had more than the means to defend yourself. He always admired your lethality, but he was possessive, and the thought of his love getting hurt without him watching over them was a painful thought.

You stifled your pain as you got up off the shared bed, the nap you had taken doing no help to your injury. Kuai Liang stirred next to you, absently reaching for you in his semi-conscious state. His hand landed on your thigh, firmly. His thumb pushed down into the tender bruise, making you cringe. Feeling you twitch under his absent-minded touch, Kuai Liang began to regain full consciousness. As if a nervous reaction, the burning pain in your thigh spread further down your leg.

You turned to look at Kuai Liang over your shoulder, meeting his groggy gaze. Soft, and warm. In his half-awake state, he didn't take notice to the slight crease in your brows, or the way you bit your lip to ignore the pain. Not yet, anyways. He uttered a couple of things under his breath in Chinese, mainly complimenting you. He got up, taking his hand away from your thigh, and yawning. After a couple seconds of comfortable silence, Kuai Liang met your eyes once again, smiling softly.

Your body relaxed, the pain in your thigh subsiding a little. Turning to kiss him, however, broke that brief comfort. The way you angled your body as your lips caught his sent another rush of pain down your full leg, the contusion tender and near begging for some sort of pain relief. Your breath caught in your throat, causing you to pull away and hiss. Kuai Liang flinched, raising his hand and pausing. His first thought was that you had just stretched wrong, but when you had reached for your thigh subconsciously, it clicked instantly.

"You're still hurt? You didn't tell me?"

Anger flared in Kuai Liang's eyes, just for a second, before concern set in. He could've protected you, but also you had hid this from him. He didn't know exactly what to feel in the moment, conflicted and confused. But he knew you were hurt, so his very first instinct was to take care of you. Once you had shown him it was a contusion, nothing deep or at risk of infection. But it was a rather big bruise, so he worried more.

During your recovery, he keeps a close eye on you. He checks on the bruise regularly, until its no more than just the size of a dime. Only then did he allow you to walk without his help. He'll definitely have a talk with you, and in future missions he'll always be close by. He wouldn't dare let his treasure get hurt again.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[oneshotnewbie]

Joining station 19 and immediately connecting with everyone. You and Andy fall for each other hard and right before you two are going to confess the station gets a bad call where you get badly injured. You need blood so everyone gets tested to see if they are a match. Jack Gibson is and the doctor figures out that you and Jack are twins. Everyone is shocked. Especially Andy. Falling for your ex's long-lost twin sister is crazy. She ends up distancing herself away from the reader who gets hurt and confused. Maya can tell she is hurting herself while doing this. So she tells Andy that if she really cares about the reader then she shouldn't care that her and Jack are twins. Andy goes to the reader and explains herself. Then the two get together. Fluffy and angsty please?

Authors note: Very long story for my standards, and not proofread. I apologize if there are any grammatical errors! ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

You slowly walked through the open gates of Station 19, your gaze focused, but a friendly smile played on your lips. The fire station, which was full of hectic activity, seemed to pause for a heartbeat at that moment as the eyes of everyone present were focused on you, who walked in with a confident step.

The new members of the team had seen many new faces come and go, but there was something about you that caught everyone's attention. Captain Bishop stepped forward first, offering you her hand with a gentle smile. "Welcome to Station 19, y/l/n. We're glad to have you here."

You shook her hand firmly and nodded happily before pulling away from her and looked around your new workplace. "Thank you, Captain. I'm excited to be a part of this team."

Maya gave you a little tour and led you through the station, introducing you to the other firefighters. The welcome was immediately warm, but when you met Andy Herrera you felt a special connection. Andy, the experienced lieutenant, looked directly at you and for a moment the world seemed to stand still for both of you. "Y/n, right? Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, exactly. And you're Andy, right?" you asked and she nodded at you, taking the friendly route to your new locker. It didn't take long for you to get along with everyone. You showed the team respect for their experience and knowledge of firefighting and impressed your new colleagues with your skills.

Over the next few weeks you became an integral part of the team. During the exercises you showed the full extent of your abilities, but what impressed the others was your dedication and your ability to keep a clear head in stressful situations. Your positive attitude and the way you interacted with those affected by fires infected everyone, and it seemed as if you had been a part of the station for years.

A close bond developed especially between Andy and you. You understood each other on a deeper level than words could express. The looks you exchanged spoke volumes, and it was as if you had found a common language that only existed between you.

In the quieter moments, you often found yourself near the emergency vehicle, deep in conversation. About your past, about your dreams and the challenge of the fire service. But despite the obvious and ever-growing attraction between you, neither dared to speak the words that were hiding in your hearts.

One evening, after a long mission, you sat on the edge of the station and looked out at the city at night. The silence between you was comfortable but also tense while the atmosphere between you was charged. “Y/n, can I ask you something?” She asked into the quiet, catching your eyes as you looked down at her from the city lights, lost in thought. You both tried to understand your own burgeoning feelings and put them into words. "Of course. Ask me anything you want."

Andy struggled with her words, not knowing how she wanted to express her feelings, and just as she was about to say a word and break the silence, she was interrupted by a loud alarm that echoed through the station. Everyone immediately jumped up when the emergency call went out.

"There's a major fire downtown! All hands on deck!" Maya Bishop shouted, the words piercing the air as the station filled with frantic activity. The Latina's confession was suddenly shattered by the reality of fire service. Without another word, you grabbed your gear and ran to the emergency vehicle.

The journey to the fire site passed in hurried silence. The sirens wailed as the images of the burning building grew closer and closer. When the emergency vehicle arrived on the scene, smoke billowed into the air and flames leaped wildly into the darkness. "Y/l/n, Herrera! You are responsible for floors 8-12. Clear the apartments!"

You quickly rushed into the burning building, working hand in hand and coordinating your actions while handing over your stay and condition to the team. The intensive cooperation and trust that had developed between you at the station was now put to the test. But it was precisely in this extreme situation that you found a remarkable synchronicity.

In the middle of the mission, as you tried to save lives and control the fire, Andy and you briefly looked into each other's eyes. At that moment, the flames around you seemed to disappear and time slowed down. It was like your emotions were about to explode in that intense moment. "Andy, there's something I really need to tell you."

"Later, y/n. Let's finish this first." the Latina's words were drowned out by a sudden, loud crash as part of the 10th floor structure collapsed. The floor was flooded with a blinding wave of heat, while screams and the crackling of the ravines merged into a deafening carpet of sound.

You jumped towards Andy to save her from the burning column of rubble that was rushing towards her amidst the chaos. But the heat wave hit you and you were thrown to the ground. Andy saw the scene in horror and picked herself up from the ground before immediately rushing to you. "Y/n! Can you hear me?!"

You could only nod weakly as deep pain pulsed through your body. "Captain, y/n is injured! I need medical attention immediately!" she shouted through the intercom, waiting as other colleagues arrived to fight the fire and rescue you from the rubble.

Your thoughts were heavily clouded by the stabbing pain, but in the midst of the agony and struggle with unconsciousness, you felt Andy holding your hand. "You'll get through this, you hear me? Stay with me!"

While Hughes and Warren took care of you and got you out, the fire was gradually brought under control by Andy, Gibson and Travis. But the emotional flames between Andy and you were brought to a new level by this dramatic incident in which you tried to save her life. The fire in the Latina's heart now burned not only with desire, but also with worry and the desire to be by your side forever.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright lights in the hospital waiting room were tense. Your entire team waited with worried faces for news about your health. The quiet hum of the lights and the muffled murmur of other waiting patients filling the room. "What's taking so damn long?!" fumed Andy, who was driven crazy by the long gap in knowledge without any further information about you.

Unbeknownst to them, your situation worsened when you were now lying awake in the examination room and had found out about the need for a blood transfusion when Doctor Meredith Gray determined through all the tests that you urgently needed a blood transfusion.

It was only when Meredith approached the group with a thin smile and wanted to share the news with them that Andy was able to breathe a sigh of relief, but her eyes were still filled with worry. "What's wrong with her? Will she be okay?" Victoria asked immediately, even before the blonde had fully entered the waiting room. "She was lucky in misfortune. A few broken ribs, injuries to her leg, but nothing that she can't overcome. However, she lost a lot of blood and therefore needs a blood transfusion."

The doctor's words echoed through the room and an unpleasant tension settled over those present, but after a brief period of shock, each of the firefighters volunteered to be tested for you.

After a good three quarters of an hour and a thorough examination of the seven samples, the surprising news came that was to give everyone another shocking piece of news that evening. This information would stick with Andy in particular for a long time. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Herrera, but your blood is not compatible."

The confusion on her face was palpable, as she fervently hoped that she could save your life like you had done for her. Disappointment was reflected in her eyes, the uncertainty about what would happen next hung heavily in the air. "What? That can't be right. I have to be compatible. Test it again!"

"We've already tested it and there's no match. It looks like Jack has the right blood type, though," a brief moment of silence followed as Meredith fiddled with her tablet to double-check. that she recited the correct bullet points that she had discovered. "A genetic hit, even. You can donate immediately."

Shocked looks passed between each team member and Jack as the realization of the family connection sank in and he nodded without hesitation and made himself available. Andy's gaze lingered on him longer than usual, her brow furrowed as she bit her lip and folded her arms under her chest. The doctor's words struck her like a thunderclap, shattering her reality. "Both of you...siblings? That's impossible!"

"It seems so, Andy. Genetic testing seems to have confirmed it. I didn't know myself." Gibson spoke cautiously, the only one knowing that the Latina had had feelings for you for weeks. The revelation left a bitter taste in the air between Andy and Jack. The confusion in her eyes betrayed not only the surprise at the unexpected family connection, but also the fact that Jack Gibson, a former ex of hers, was now identified as your brother. The silence was broken by a heavy sigh as Andy voiced her thoughts. "That can't be right. You and me, we were..."

Jack interrupted immediately, holding his hands to his chest in a calming gesture. "Andy, I didn't know. I swear. But now we're all here to help y/n. We can sort this out later."

You could feel the tension between them both, and the situation suddenly became much more complicated in Andy's eyes than ever before. Andy's thoughts about her feelings for you were overshadowed by the newfound sibling relationship. The feeling of uncertainty spread through her and she didn't know how to deal with this unexpected turn of events.

The dynamics within the team had changed, and the revelation of familial ties not only upset blood relationships, but also brought with it a flood of emotions that were difficult for Andy to handle as Jack was prepared for the blood transfusion and the other firefighters remained in the waiting room, their minds still dominated by the surprising information.

During the transfusion, Andy continued to sit in the waiting room, her eyes wandering between hope and worry. She couldn't ignore the sudden siblinghood and felt that something had fundamentally changed in her life. It set off a chain reaction of emotions that were difficult to process.

After the successful transfusion, Jack entered the waiting room again and the eyes of the others turned to him. "How did it go? Were you able to donate the blood she needed?"

The young man just nodded tiredly and sat down on one of the chairs next to Maya. She gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder, expressing her gratitude for the help and support. "Y/n is stable. The transfusion went well. She will be fine."

A sigh of relief filled the room, but the tension remained. Andy, still torn between emotions and uncertainty, didn't know how to deal with the new reality and you in general. Your hospital stay had revealed not only physical wounds, but also emotional ones that had developed between both of you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In the days and weeks that followed this revelation, you felt a noticeable change in Andy's behavior towards you as you returned to duty. The usual closeness and familiarity between you seemed to have been broken by an invisible barrier and you didn't quite understand why. The Latina avoided long conversations and your gaze as if she was looking for distance.

You tried to understand the change, but every attempt to talk to Andy about it was met with a cool reserve. Even the small gestures of connection you had previously shared seemed to fade. You could see a look of confusion and uncertainty in Andy's eyes every time she looked at you.

One day you couldn't take it anymore and confronted her, blurting out your emotional distress. "Andy, can you finally fucking talk to me? I don't even know what your freaking problem is. You've been so incredibly distant to me since I was in the hospital and I don't understand why!"

Andy froze when she heard your vulgar pronunciation for the first time and hesitated in her answer for a moment before lowering her gaze. She had to find an excuse. Some excuse that didn't involve her feelings for you. "Everything is so messed up right now! And it has nothing to do with you, but with me."

"That's what they all always say, and basically it has something to do with you. You know what? If you don't want to talk, fine. Then leave it like that and drag our friendship through the mud!" You spat and Andy sighed as she took a step back, even though she just wanted to be close to you. "I'm sorry, y/n, but it's all just too much right now. I need time alone to process some things."

You could see the clear pain in her eyes. Your words left a painful chasm between you that you couldn't ignore. The situation crumbled the delicate structure of your relationship and your attempt to save your connection through another conversation had failed hopelessly.

With a heavy heart, you accepted her answer and disappeared from her surroundings, completely ignoring her from now on. In the time that followed, the distance between you both grew even greater, and the uncertainty put a strain on your work together as partners.

While the Latina tried to process the complexity of the situation, you were left alone with your physical and emotional injuries.

That same evening, after a tiring day on Station 19, where she saw you in every corner of her existence and her heart ached, the brunette looked for some distraction in a nearby bar. The dim lighting and quiet murmurs of the guests created a relaxed atmosphere that helped her sort out her inner turmoil. She sat at the bar all alone, her gaze absently fixated on the glass of whiskey in front of her.

The captain, Maya Bishop, also entered the bar with Carina, and immediately noticed the thoughtful expression on her best friend's face. The bad mood taking over her aura. They ran straight up to her and sat down next to her, the Italian woman already ordering their drinks for the two of them. "Hey, Andy. Are you okay? Where's y/n?"

Andy looked up, a shadow of uncertainty and sadness in her eyes, as the light of the bar began to glitter in her moist eyes. "Hey, Maya. It's... complicated."

The blonde nodded in understanding, sipped the beer she had just received and leaned on the bar before she revealed her observations of the last few days. "I've noticed you've been withdrawing from her lately. Are you still worried about the sibling thing?"

She hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. Maya gently placing a hand on her upper arm. "Andy, I can see that you're both really upset about what's happening between you right now. But you can't just cut ties with y/n just because Jack is her brother."

She hummed, took a long sip from her glass, and looked thoughtfully at the wall. "I don't know how to deal with it. It's all so complicated.

"I understand that this is all complicated. But don't you think you're hurting yourself by distancing yourself from her? You both have something special and it would be a shame to give that up because of external circumstances."

"But Maya, they're siblings. That's just too much." Andy sighed again, her thoughts seeming to race before her eyes and mine seemed to see a hint of understanding in them. "Yes, it's unusual and complicated. But if you really want to fight for yourself and your connection, you shouldn't let something like this stop you. You love her, that's clearly out of the question. That's what matters ."

Andy's gaze shifted to her best friend as she took in her words. A moment of silence followed before the Latina finally realized the truth. "You're right, Maya. I shouldn't let these circumstances destroy what is between us."

Maya smiled encouragingly and picked up her bottle. A gentle smile also appeared on the brunette's lips and she also pulled out her glass before drinking it down. "I'll get her back. This evening!"

"Exactly, fight for what's important to you. And if you really love her, then don't let something as unimportant as this sister/brother thing destroy that."

The two women sat in silence with Carina for a while, Andy's thoughts swirling around as the bar around them filled with buzz and laughter. In that moment, she began to realize that perhaps it was time to overcome her own doubts and fight for what her heart truly desired.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Night had fallen over the city when Andy stood in front of your apartment building. The night enveloped the streets in an impenetrable darkness as a light rain began to bathe them in a shiny pattern. Maya's words had touched a chord within her, and the urge to find clarity in all the chaos drove her to take the step.

She stormed across the street with hasty steps, the rain lashing against her skin and the cold breeze emphasizing her fear of what she was about to say. Her heart pounded against her chest as she entered the building and climbed the stairs to your apartment. A nervous tingle ran through her limbs as she stood in front of the door. She took a deep breath before tapping her shaking hands vigorously against the wood.

After a moment of listening intently to the footsteps coming from the apartment, you opened the door, surprised to see Andy in this upset state. Your eyes met and the tension between you was palpable. "What are you doing here so late at night?"

"Can I come in?" She asked, completely ignoring your question. You nodded and opened the door wider, your forehead furrowed slightly. She entered the apartment, her soaking wet hair dripping all over the floor while the silence enveloped you like an invisible veil with unsaid words. "Y/n, I.. I can't carry this around any longer. I need to explain something to you."

You sensed the seriousness in her voice and nodded, leading her into your small but cozy apartment. "What's wrong? Did something happen to you on the way here?"

Andy hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and saying the words that were trapped inside her. "I've distanced myself from you and I know it hurt you a lot. I was afraid of the whole sibling thing and it confused me about Jack being your brother and our past. But Maya opened my eyes. I can't just let this ruin everything between us."

You listened intently, shifting your gaze from the floor to watching her. Her expression was a mix of confusion and hope. "I felt it and it hurt me deeply not knowing what was going on. The distance in particular was... intense."

"I'm sorry, I really am. But now I'm here to make it right." There was a moment of silence between you before she locked her gaze back into yours. Andy took a deep breath and walked towards you, placing her hand gently on your cheek. "Y/n, I can't hide this any longer. I love you. No matter what happened between us or who our relatives are, I can't deny how I feel for you."

You looked at her and in that moment the insecurities and fears seemed to fade away. Feeling a pang of surprise in your chest, a warm feeling of joy followed and a smile crossed your face. A glimmer of tears glistened in your eyes as her words hung in the air.

"Andy, I love you too. And no matter what life has in store for us, I want to try and share it with you."

The words barely had time to sink in before your lips met in a passionate kiss. A flood of emotions flowed through you as you finally found each other - the uncertainty gave way to the certainty that your love was stronger than any external influence or challenge. The tensions of the past few weeks melted away.

Your apartment seemed to fill with the intensity of your feelings and a hint of romance and warmth. The world around you melted into a blurry background. In that moment you had found what you were looking for. As the night progressed, you stepped hand in hand into a future together, ready to face any challenge and nurture the love that was stronger than any insecurities. You two had found something special in each other.

[fashionteahouse]

what about paul x reader when she tell him she is pregnant and start crying about her fear not being a good mom

omg yesss hope you enjoy :)

i think - paul x reader

The eyes flickered to the white paper that was supported with fingers, to the blinding of the lights, and back at the doctor. You had to blink a couple of times, not fully trying to believe it. There had to be an error.

"Is there any plans that you have thought about?" the professional asks you.

"Are you sure that it's positive?" you ask back, not trying to be under false positives.

A chuckle comes in as their eyes look back down on the paper, "You've been coming to me since a small child. We triple checked."

Not only your heart, your mind starts racing. You don't even catch the rest of the words out of the doctor's mouth.

You didn't come inside the home straight away. You trudge in the home, with sounds coming from the kitchen. Not wanting to face the question of what happened, you cut and go into the bedroom instead.

"Why do you have your head down like you got beat up?" A voice soon says from the doorway. You pick your head up and look back at Paul, the comment makes you smile softly but the frown infects your face once more.

"I just came from the doctors." You said.

"Right. Is everything alright?" he asks carefully, coming in further.

You nod. But you just stand there. The flare of your nostrils makes Paul display a face of concern. He moves in closer but you shake your head and put a smile to show that you're okay. He pulls you in and your lip starts to quiver as hot fresh tears trickle down. You blink them away but they keep pouring out and Paul gently squeeze you tight, "Y/N, what's wrong. Talk to me."

You open your mouth to talk but it turns into a small sob. He takes two thumbs to wipe the fast tears as he leans down, "What's wrong?" he asks again but it's soft and gentle like an angel's voice.

"I can't..." You start to say and hiccup a bit, but Paul rubs your back and says, "Calm down, I can't understand you. Tell me what's wrong."

You find a bit of composure, slightly sobering up the overflow of tears as you speak more clearly, "I'm a mess. I can't.." you say as you shake your head as you stare straight at him in the eyes and go into a ramble, "I can't raise a kid..Me? As a mom? Impossible? I think I would do a horrible job and I have so much-" you hiccup again and all of the self doubt makes you emotional all over again.

"Wait, wait? What do you mean? Who's kid?" Paul questions, not fully seeing the picture.

You make a frustrated face, "Our kid. The doctors said that we're going to be parents, but I can't do it."

Paul's face is blank but forms into an overjoyed being as the words, "We're going to be parents," was presented to his ears.

"We're going to be parents?" he asks with a bright smile on his face. You nod and he hugs you tight, pressing you to his chest as he laughs in disbelief.

"Oh my goodness Y/N, why are you crying? You scared me!" he says with great relief as he looks down at you with a grin on his face.

You take one heel of your hand and wipe the bottom of your eye, "Because, I'm not going to be the mother that the baby needs. It's scary... What if I'm not going to be a good mom?" you reply in a small but quivery voice.

"What?!" he says, he looks at you for a long moment before your eyes close again to release fresh tears but two warm thumbs brush them to the side.

"Look at me." he demands firmly but softly. You open your wet eyes to find focused and determined eyes staring back.

"Don't say that. I don't know why you think that nonsense. Cut it out." he says then he lays his cheek on the top of your head, hugging him close to you.

"I think, I wouldn't do a good job. I don't want to screw this up." you tell him, opening your fears up wide to him.

"I think, you would do an amazing job. I know you would be an amazing mom." he says as you sniff the last bit of sadness away. The sureness of his voice made a whimsical wave of warmth pump throughout your entire body. At that moment, your fears turned into hopes for the future with Paul and your new beginning.

[gothic-thoughts]

Disarranged Marriage

Soap MacTavish x Black Fem Reader Smut

Strangers2Lovers, MeetCute, Viking!Soap, ApprenticeHealer!Reader

CW: porn wit plot fr, just met smashing, quiet sex

Word Count: 1391 (give or take)

My head pounded with a splitting headache and an aching pain in my chest as a sweet, hushed voice coaxed me from slumber. Dazed, I slowly opened my eyes as sunlight filtered into my vision, only to be met with the sight of her. I didn’t know if I was seeing an angel or if she was this gorgeous. Maybe I'm just dizzy. 

I blink again, seeing a little better through the sun's rays and better registering her face— her glowing dark skin, those pretty beauty marks, plump lips curved into a sweet smile... braided hair put up into a high ponytail. I even double-checked to confirm there wasn't a halo above her head. It didn’t matter in the slightest, my heart was already thudding against my sore, heavily tattooed chest rapidly as my mind cleared.

“Marry me...”

Her eyes widen and her hand halts its slow movements on my chest. Shite. My cheeks immediately flush with embarrassment but when she giggles, my shoulders relax a little knowing I haven't offended her or anything. In an attempt to salvage my dignity, I clear my throat.

“Uh...” I speak in my groggy voice, “What I meant was good mornin’, gorgeous.”

“It's not morning, MacTavish. This morning was the tournament.”

“Right, right... and what happened to me...?” 

“I was told after you got bucked off your horse, a wild boar speared you with its tusk.”

My eyes widen at her words. Fuck, that sounds bad. I looked down at my chest to see what her hand was doing— dabbing a rag over the large stitched-up gash across my left and center of my chest. I wince at the sight, grimacing. Fuck, that looks bad. I shift on the wooden cot, trying to find a comfortable position but the wound stings with the movement, scolding me to remain still.

“How long have I been out?”

“About 4 hours, I'm afraid.”

“Damn, how bad is it?”

“Puttin' it bluntly, you should be dead. It's a pretty deep and over your heart.”

I raise my eyebrows in shock but I couldn't stop my voice from lowering an octave as I kept my eyes on hers.

"And, uh... just how deep is... pretty deep, lass?"

She bites her lip a little, clearing her throat. She lifts her hand from the rag and traces a finger up the length of my wound.

"Pretty deep would mean an inch or two from your aorta." Her finger gently circles the center of my chest, tapping over the organ she was referring to, "And seeing that you're already awake? You're the luckiest man I've ever met."

"I was thinking the exact same thing since I somehow ended up under the care of the most eye-catchin' angel Valhalla could send."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, I definitely do."

She looks away with a sheepish chuckle, no doubt hiding a blush before looking back at me. "I don't take the credit, MacTavish."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"You should; I should be worshippin' you for helping me live to see an actual angel on Earth.”

“I'm only an apprentice healer— the one cleaning you and your sutures every hour so you don't look as if you've been run over by a wagon. Twice.”

I let out a soft chuckle, impressed by her determination to deflect praise. "Your care isn't insignificant; wounds would get infected without your work. You saved me from looking like roadkill.”

I watch her work in silence for a few moments, appreciating the careful way she handles the bloodied rag and the meticulous way she blots my wound. My eyes can’t help but wander up and down her figure, gaze taking in her chubby form, her curves, her focused eyes... her breasts. She wrings out the rag into a wooden bucket near my bed, filling it with blood-stained water.

“There a name to go with that... absolutely gorgeous face o’ yours?”

She smirks, holding my flirty gaze with one of her own. “(Y/n) (L/n).”

“Pleased to meet you, (Y/n). I’m Johnny.”

“Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“You’re good with your hands, y’know?”

She pauses, her hand halting again. "What's that supposed to mean?”

“You’re handlin’ me with care, aren’t you? Your hands are soft, gentle, skilled... Makes me wonder what else you’re skilled at…”

“Only a Viking would flirt with an injury like this." 

"Only a fool wouldn't-- 'specially upon seeing the most mesmerizing woman he's seen in all his life."

She laughs softly, "You know being stabbed hurts no less when a healer does it, right?”

I chuckle loudly. Dammit, stop flirting with her. This is a healer tending to my injury, not some tavern wench.

“Oh, come now, no need for threats, love. Unless, you are betrothed...?”

“I am working... Johnny~”

“Ah, clever evasion. So you’re a single lass then…”

“Yes, and you are a patient.”

Oh, this is fun. “And what happens when I’m not a patient anymore, love?”

“Then I would ignore you because you would be a recent patient.”

“You’d ignore me? Even if I begged for your attention so brazenly the village knew?”

“Yes, I'm told warriors don't make good partners.”

My eyebrows raise, intrigued by her comment. With a slight hiss of pain, I prop myself up on my arms, leaning my face closer to hers.

“And who said that?” I ask, my voice a low rumble.

“Many married women in the village.” 

I snort in amusement. “And who were these women married to?”

“Warriors.”

I let out a belly laugh. “Of course they would say that. They probably aren’t satisfied with their husbands… But me? Oh I can tell you, love, I’d make a damn good partner~”

“Mhm... I'm sure.”

“You don’t sound convinced, lassie.”

"I'm not." 

“Maybe I’ll have to prove it to you.”

She gasps and holds her hips. “And what's that s'posed to mean?”

“It means I’ll have to show you that I’d make a perfect partner, love."

“Tch, and how ya plan on doin’ that with an injury this big?”

“Sweetheart, this little thing isn’t going to hold me back. I’m a warrior, remember? I’ve had worse, and that never stopped me before.”

“I doubt that~”

I throw my head back, my laugh deep and hearty as a challenge presents itself.

“Oh ye of little faith.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t long before I was behind a stack of crates in the corner of the healing cabin with my massive tattooed hand clamped over (Y/n)'s mouth to keep her adorable moans at bay each time my muscular thighs and pelvis collided with her plump ass. I bury my face in (Y/n)'s neck, my nose nuzzling the space behind her ear as my strokes become quick and deep, relishing the soft, brown skin that I’ve been dying to feel since I came to.

“Unh my god~”

“That’s it... fuck yes~”

With every deep thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the small space while she gasps and pants softly into my hand, being sure to keep her palms planted firmly against the wall. Her moans being muffled by my calloused hand made my cock throb inside her, the knowledge that she has to bite her lip to not cry out is driving me wild.

"Ah f-fuck, how did I let you talk me into this?" She whispered.

I can’t help but chuckle against her skin, repeatedly pulling her hips back to me. “Unh... oh fuck... Don’t pretend you weren’t interested from the start, lass.”

"Y-you're only sayin’ that cuz you asked me to marry you~"

“And it was a ‘yes’.”

"N-no it wasn't."

I let out a quiet laugh and let go of (Y/n)’s hip to gently grab her by the chin, forcing those glazed-over eyes to meet mine over her shoulder. 

“Yeah? Then why am I with you like this right now?”

“I... I, ah—”

“Hm?” I pull her chin up higher, forcing her to arch deeper, “Why you lettin’ me do this to you, eh?” 

Before she can respond, I slam into her to make her gasp in shock at my sudden depth, her ass now completely flush against my pelvis as her body shudders against my aching chest. I growl lowly at the new and intense squeezing around my cock and continue to fuck her through her orgasm.

“O-Ooh shit, mnh~!” She moaned, her sounds of pleasure muffled behind my tattooed fingers.

“You refuse my proposal but you’re lettin’ me make you cum like this? Taking care of you like a good husband should...?”

I press a kiss to her neck as her orgasm subsides, leaving nothing but aftershocks wracking her body. My hand released her chin to run down the curves of her side, my fingernails running lightly over the fabric of her tunic.

“Mmh, nah... I think this...“ I thrust deeply again, “Is you accepting my proposal.”

[criminalamnesia]

A Long Time Coming

summary: You go on patrol with Joel, unknowingly sealing your fate.

warnings: you could picture either game!joel or show!joel in this, angst, mentions of torture and blood, no use of y/n, f!reader, reader is Joel’s wife, not proofread, spoilers for The Last of Us Part 2!

author’s note: angst angst angst. sorry but also not really. anyways I totally think that if the roles were reversed and ellie had died instead of joel, joel would have 100% done the same thing.

Abby Anderson had spent years thinking about this moment.

Dreaming about it. Anticipating it.

Planning out what she would say, what she would do, when she finally faced the man who had killed her father.

She had never foreseen it happening like this– by a chance. Her stubbornness and foolishness almost leading to sure death if not for fate’s interference– the infected about to sink its teeth into her neck stabbed in the head by an older man.

A woman appearing from behind him, gun raised and eyebrows furrowed as she provided cover fire.

“Y’alright?” The man’s voice had a subtle southern accent, his hands gently holding onto Abby’s biceps as he steadied her.

Her eyes were wide, breath coming in quick pants as she surveyed the man and the woman. She gave a quick nod, and the man nodded in return.

“Babe, we gotta go!” The woman was shouting, firing another round into the head of a runner. The man was still focused on Abby.

“We gotta run–”

“I know somewhere,” Abby was speaking, thinking of the lodge her and her group had holed up in as they surveyed Jackson.

The man nodded again, “Lead the way.”

It was almost laughable at how things had happened.

The man, revealed as Joel once in the safety of the lodge, served right to her on a silver platter. Right after he saved her life.

And she had planned to end his.

But as she walked alongside Joel and the woman, she quickly came to realize they were married– at least, judging by the silver ring on the woman’s left ring finger.

And her mind slowly started to change.

She had wanted to torture Joel– give him a cruel and suffering-filled ending. But now, with his wife, she could do to him what he did to her when she was a child.

She could make it so much worse than what he did to her. Make it painful, make him watch– helpless, unable to do anything as she tortured the woman he loved.

She had settled on that when they made their way into the lodge, her friends perking up as they moved inside.

“Abby? Where were you?” Owen was asking, standing from his sleeping bag with concern etched onto his face.

“I went on a walk,” she said, pulling her snow-covered beanie from her head.

“Who’s this?” Nora spoke, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m Joel,” the man said. He held back a hand to guide forward the woman, who gave a small smile as she wiped stray snow from her braided hair.

Joel’s hand fell to the small of her back as she gave her name, followed by: “I’m Joel’s wife.”

The group fell silent as they looked at one another. Abby moved to stand next to Manny, Joel and his wife now positioned away from the rest of the group.

“Y’all act like you’ve heard of us,” Joel gave an uneasy chuckle as his wife took a step back, her hand moving to tug at his coat.

“Joel,” she whispered, eyes wide as she glanced at Abby and back to her husband. “I think it’s time we get back. Tommy’s gonna be worried.”

Abby could’ve laughed. If they didn’t already suspect this was the Joel they were looking for, his wife had just sealed the couple’s fate with one word. Tommy.

“Oh,” Mel spoke, glancing sideways at Owen as the group shuffled tensely. Manny stepped back towards his sleeping bag, bending at the knees and grabbing something.

“We have.”

It happened in a flash.

Joel’s wife forcibly tugged him backwards. Manny took two long strides forward, and the shotgun he now had in his grasp fired, aimed straight at Joel’s leg.

The older man yelled in pain, crumpling forward to the ground as the bullets tore through his lower thigh and knee. His wife was screaming— reaching for the pistol tucked in her belt— but she was too slow. Nora and Nick surged forward, grabbing her by her arms and forcing her forwards.

“You stupid, old man,” Abby gave a shake of her head, a disbelieving huff escaping her lips.

Joel tried to struggle to his feet, but his injuries made his attempt futile. Before he could even think to reach for his gun, Owen and Manny were on him— tossing the weapon across the room and wrenching him to his feet.

The man groaned in agony as they dragged him further into the room, finally dropping him into a heap in front of where Nora and Nick were still holding his wife.

“Fuck you!” She screamed, thrashing in their holds. The rest of the group circled them now, eyes on Abby, as she picked up the golf club leaning against the nearby wall.

“You can’t stop this,” she said, her knuckles white as she gripped the club. “This has been a long, long time coming.”

“We don’t even know you!” The wife shouted, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“You don’t,” Abby used the club to gesture at her. Then, she turned, pointing the golf club towards Joel. “But he does.”

He was on the ground, hands behind his back as Owen tied them together.

“I have no clue,” he said, taking a heavy breath. “Who you are. I’ve crossed a lotta people. You’re not the first.”

“My father,” Abby snapped as Joel looked up at her. “You killed him. Shot him in the fucking head. Starting to remember yet?” She gave a humorless laugh, taking a step towards him.

“Leave him alone!” His wife screamed. Abby ignored her.

“The firefly hospital in Salt Lake. The surgeon. Ring any fucking bells?” She seethed, raising the golf club.

Owen moved back, and Abby swung the club down as hard as she could— right into Joel’s face.

—

You screamed as Abby brought the club down on Joel. You could feel your strength slipping as you struggled against the two holding you back.

“Stop!” You screamed, your tears threatening to fall. You wouldn’t let them— you didn’t want these people to have that satisfaction. “Let him go! Leave him alone!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The man holding you yelled, wrenching your arm back painfully. You screamed in pain as he pulled your shoulder from its socket.

Joel’s head was bleeding now as he laid on the floor. The dark red blood trickled down to his cheek. It matted his greying hair. It made you sick to your stomach.

Your eyes were trained on his face as his eyes closed– before slowly opening again, now hooded. She had struck him hard— you were almost surprised he was still awake.

Almost.

Joel was a stubborn bastard, after all, and you knew that better than most.

It was his stubbornness and reluctance to trust you that had almost led to his leaving you on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

But thanks to Ellie’s unending prodding (and his heart, which he still seemed to have after all these years) he had allowed you to come with them.

He was supposed to drop you off somewhere along the way– at least, he told himself he was supposed to– but you had a way of worming your way into people’s hearts.

Plus, Ellie adored you, and she would’ve killed him if he had sent you packing.

You had joined him and Ellie on their journey across the country. You had watched him almost die at that science facility– almost died yourself after being taken by the crazy cannibal David and his crew— and along the way, the three of you had turned into some mismatched, weird little family.

You hadn’t been with them in the hospital in Salt Lake City. You had broken off from them to see if you could find any traces of your family, who had lived in the area before Outbreak Day. You hadn’t seen what had happened. Hadn’t been forced to make the decision Joel did (you would’ve made the same one).

You only knew that when you saw Joel pull up in that rusty old pickup truck, with a sleeping Ellie in a hospital gown in the back seat, that whatever had happened was what needed to happen.

And now, the past was here– all caught up to you.

Abby stepped back from Joel, the club still clutched tightly in her hands.

“You know, when I thought of this moment, I didn’t envision it like this,” she spoke, her eyes still on Joel. “But this is better than I could’ve hoped for.”

She turned to face you then, and your eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you,” you spat, rage replacing the fear in your body. At least she wasn’t focused on Joel anymore.

“I was going to torture him,” she told you, jerking her chin to gesture to Joel, still laying on the floor a few feet behind her. “Beat him until he stopped breathing. But, you’ve given me the perfect opportunity for revenge.”

“Go to hell,” you seethed, and Abby raised the club again.

The man and woman released you to take a step back, but before you could even start to run, Abby brought the club down right into your knee. A sickening crunch could be heard as you crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain.

“Still feeling feisty?” Abby said, crouching down to meet your gaze.

You spit in her face, and she wiped it from her cheek with the sleeve of her shirt. She stood once more, raised the club again, and brought it down on your side.

You could feel your ribs cracking at the force of the swing. You groaned, a weak cough sputtering past you lips and splattering blood on the floor in front of you.

A ringing in your ears started up then, caused by the pain. You moaned in pain, your eyes searching for Joel across the room.

They had forced him to sit back up, and his eyes were wide open now. He was saying something– but you couldn’t hear anything. Your eyes met his and you finally felt a tear fall down your cheek.

The club came down again. Your head was bleeding now, the ringing even louder.

Again. The bone in your leg was surely broken.

Again. More ribs, cracking and breaking. More blood coughed up, painting the floor and your lips a dark red.

Another hit to the head. Stars dotted your vision, and the ringing in your ears was getting unbearable. You felt your eyes slip closed, and suddenly you were in the house you shared with Joel back in Jackson.

It was right after you and Joel had officially started dating. He had brought Ellie over to your house for the weekly dinner the three of you had made a habit of in the few weeks you’d been living in Jackson.

The two of you were sitting on the couch in the living room. Ellie was perched on one of the armchairs with Joel’s guitar in her lap. Joel was talking periodically, guiding her through a song, one you remembered loving before the Outbreak.

You broke out into a grin as Ellie played, the words slowly coming back to you. You began to sing, and Ellie grinned as she risked looking up from the guitar to meet your gaze. You gave her a reassuring smile as you continued to sing, both of you soldiering on even when she played the wrong chord or when you stumbled through the words.

Joel was grinning beside you, his eyes watching you intently as you sang. It was the first time he’d ever heard you sing, and he was entranced.

When Ellie played the last chord and your voice quieted, he whistled, earning a laugh from you and Ellie.

“You’ve got a beautiful voice,” he told you, and you had waved him off. Ellie backed him up, and without much more resistance you accepted their compliments.

“We could start a band!” Ellie said, and you and Joel had laughed.

“That’s a great idea, Els. You on guitar, me and Joel on vocals,” you said, winking at him. He shook his head with a laugh.

The memory faded as you were brought back to reality by someone roughly shoving you into a sitting position. You could barely see through your swollen eyelids– but you were sure you could make out the tan jacket of your husband close by.

“J-Joel,” you mumbled, the words feeling thick in the fuzziness of your mouth. Blood and drool seeped from between your lips. You were faintly aware of the gaps of now missing teeth in your mouth.

“Baby,” you heard his voice— strained and in pain— from across the room. “You gotta get up. Please, baby, get up. Please,” he begged, but then you were being hit again and the stars were back as another memory resurfaced.

It was the day before your wedding. Freshly fallen snow painted the world a bright white, and you were doubled over in laughter as you watched Ellie pelt Joel in the face with a snowball.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” He had asked you, a wide smile of his face. You had nodded.

“Oh, I think it’s hilarious,” you told him, and in an instant he was scooping up snow to make his own snowball as you shrieked and ran for cover.

“Ellie, let’s get Joel!” You called to her as she scrambled to make another snowball nearby. The teen had whooped in agreement as Joel let his snowball fly, narrowly missing your head as you ducked behind a snow-covered bush.

“Now that ain’t fair!” Joe shouted through a laugh as you shot out from behind the bush and threw your snowball.

“What’re you gonna do about it, old man?” Ellie called to him as she ran past him.

The three of you laughed and threw snowballs until your fingers were numb, and after Joel’s surrender, the three of you convened in the middle of the yard.

“Alright, let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here,” you chattered, moving to follow Ellie into the house. Joel fell into step alongside you.

“Have fun?” He asked you quietly.

“The most,” you replied.

“Guys, watch out on the steps, it’s a little slippery. Don’t need you two breaking any hips,” Ellie told you as she made it onto the porch before stepping into the house.

“Here, I’ll go up first, then pick you up,” Joel told you, moving onto the first step. You rolled your eyes but nodded, a grin breaking out onto your face at his chivalry.

He made it to the third step when he slipped, falling backwards and arms flailing in an attempt to catch himself— which led to his elbow hitting you right in the eye.

The two of you fell back into the snow, Joel on top of you. He quickly rolled off, worry on his face as he assessed you. “You okay?”

“I think I just died for a second,” you said, and he rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh before helping you up.

And that was how you ended up sporting a black eye at your wedding.

You were sure you were sporting two black eyes now.

“Please,” the word was a broken sob, filtering in and out of your ears.

“Please get up.” He was begging you, but you couldn’t feel anything anymore.

“Please, just stop. It’s me you want, not her. Please—” he was pleading, but it didn’t matter.

You could barely register the sound of a broken scream— your scream. It was one last exclamation of your pain.

As your world faded to black, the only thing you could think of was what Joel had said to you that night, years ago.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

—

By the time that someone found him, Abby and her group were long gone and he was hanging by a thread.

After they had killed you, they had beaten him within an inch of his life. He almost wished they had just killed him.

“Joel?” Dina’s voice was soft, concerned as she crouched down beside him. “Joel, can you hear me?”

A bang echoed upstairs, followed by the pounding of footsteps overhead.

Dina stood, momentarily disappearing from Joel’s sight.

“Ellie, down here!” He heard her call, and then he could see her again as she moved across the room, crouching down once more in front of the bloody, broken mess of your body.

“Joel? Fuck– Joel, are you–” Ellie was in his face now, her eyebrows furrowed in concern and panic obvious in her tone as she surveyed his injuries.

“We gotta— we gotta go. We gotta get him to Jackson, we— Dina, we gotta—” she was stumbling through her words, her mind moving a thousand miles a minute as she tried to fight through her panic.

“Ellie,” Dina’s voice was quiet and Ellie turned away from him. He couldn’t see her face anymore, but he could tell the exact moment she saw your lifeless body.

Then Joel’s world went dark.

—

A proper burial was held for you back in Jackson, a few days after everything had happened. It gave Joel time to rest and recover enough to be able to attend.

Ellie hadn’t left his side since they brought him back. She hadn’t said much, either— consumed by her grief and anger. You had become a mother figure to her, just as Joel was her father figure.

She was hurting, and Joel was, too, but the two of them had never been that good at talking about their feelings. So, they sat in silence, grieving together but separate.

The townspeople had decorated the front of the house with an abundance of bright flowers and cards. Wherever Ellie went, someone offered their condolences.

She didn’t want condolences. She wanted revenge. She wanted to hunt down and slaughter every single person who had been in the room that night— who had done that to you. To him.

She told Joel she was going, and of course he hadn’t wanted her to leave. He didn’t want what happened to you to happen to her. But, he also knew that if he was able, he’d be halfway to Seattle by now.

So he let her go.

And he told her to kill every last one of them.

[odditycircus-2002]

Medusa! Reader and Shang Tsung: Story Mode Part 4

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Spoiler Warning: Proceed with Caution

Although you didn't want to leave Baraka behind, and neither did the latter want you going inside without him, Kenshi assured you both that it wouldn't be long and he'd signal if anything went wrong. So, after more reassurances to one another, you led Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Johnny through a seldomly used back entrance into the laboratory.

When the trio eavesdrops on Shang Tsung explaining the changes he made to the serum for Mileena, they are too focused on the Sorcerer and the Princess to notice how your body language has softened and melancholic. You were so preoccupied with how you hadn't seen Outworld's heir for a while and whether or not to speak of your affliction with her, that you almost missed Kung Lao whispering about how Shang Tsung was infecting Mileena with Tarkat.

You try to whisper no, that's not the case. Unfortunately, the trio was already set on the "truth," so much so that they revealed themselves from their hiding place to confront the Sorcerer, along with Tanya and Rain, both you're also familiar with.

A glance at the unconscious Mileena in her chair was all the motivation you needed to tackle Johnny Cage to the ground. The man gave a shout in surprise. Johnny then questions on what the hell has gotten into you. You, in response, yell at Cage and his compatriots for idiotically assuming they know everything. Johnny shouts at you to get off him as he tries to shake you loose, finding you had an iron grip. In desperation, he goes for your mask and nearly rips the thing off but gets a glance at your scales and a few of your hissing snakes underneath. Johnny could only utter a "What in the f-", before you chopped him in the throat with the side of your hand.

At the sound of glass breaking, you glance to your side and find the syringe Shang was holding earlier shattered on the ground. Abandoning your tussle with Cage, you follow the Sorcerer to his work table to help make another serum for Mileena. Shang shouts for Rain to let you pass since the latter doesn't recognize you with the mask on. He complies, granted he is still shocked about your appearance and that you get to work with Shang.

You insisted Shang Tsung instruct you on what to do since you had earlier noticed that he had altered the serum. Shang quickly obliged before directing you to gather a few herbs from your cabinet, which he completely rearranged, much to your annoyance.

"Did you move everything in here? I can't find anything in your mess!"

You two got to work crushing, mixing, and distilling, working eerily well in sync as if you were both a perfect machine.

"I have dearly missed working with you like this,"

"Stuff it, Shang."

You don't stop working even when Kenshi threatens both you and Shang. You're physically stopped when Kenshi holds his blade to your throat while you are in the middle of mixing. In the background, Johnny warns Kenshi about the snakes under your hood. As if to prove him right, you let out a hiss before allowing more snakes under your hood to slither in a threat display. Shang Tsung deeply scowls at Kenshi for threatening you and preventing both of you from working.

Kenshi asked why you're working with the man you made no secret of despising. Shang Tsung quickly explains that you are his lab partner, although you quickly add that you WERE his partner until he turned you into a twisted creature.

The Sorcerer ignores you as he explains he's not trying to infect Mileena but to protect her, so you also put your hate to the side for the moment. Still skeptical, Kenshi dismisses Shang's words and has Johnny and Kung Lao watch you both. Shang did nothing to hide his contempt for the two while you continued hissing with your snakes still writhing from your hood.

You stopped hissing when you heard Mileena struggling in her chair, screaming in pain from the transformation brought on by Tarkat. You scream her name, your heart breaking at the sight of the girl you've known since her birth, unnaturally flaring open her mouth to show the grotesque mess of pointed teeth. You scold both Kung Lao and Johnny for not fucking listening to you before getting to work to desperately prepare her needed serum. You made sure to add some sedatives to instantly knock her out.

You gasped in horror when Mileena impaled Kenshi in the eyes with her sais right before Shang Tsung injected her with the serum. As Princess Katana enters the scene, you work swiftly to summon some water from your flask to rinse the blood from Kenshi's face. Along with General Shao, a man who is not exactly fond of you and vice versa.

When Commander Goro knocked out both Johnny and Kung Lao and then had his guards drag them and Kenshi away, you stood up to tell Kitana that this was a misunderstanding and Shang's suspicious activities. However, Shao bellows over you with his booming voice, commanding you to be silent. He will not believe a word from someone who deserted their post, especially one who was supposed to treat Outworld's heir and the Royal House.

Shao always had a way of getting under your skin, so you didn't hesitate to get in his face, snakes out, and seconds away from tearing into his hideous face. You tell him that if his brain was as big as his mouth, he'd have a shred of intelligence in that thick skull.

General Shao reaches for the large knife on his side when you reach a hand to take your mask off before Shang steps in between you two and barely misses getting bit by one of your snakes. He pulls you back before whispering in your ear.

He offers you another ultimatum: either agree with the lie he devised on the spot or finally learn what's been in the lower levels of the lab the entire time and share the Earthrealmer's fate.

You hiss at Shang Tsung and rip your mask off, but Shang closes his eyes in time as General Shao reacts within a second to knock you back to the stone floor with the butt of his knife. You heard Kitana gasp from where you lay.

"By the Gods, What has happened to you???"

General Shao snaps his fingers, and the rest of his soldiers quickly hold you down as they both blindfold you and gag your mouth, one suffering a deep bite through his gloves. You hear more than see the soldier collapse to the ground, metal scraping against solid stone as he spasms uncontrollably while vomiting blood and bile. He takes one last shaky breath before collapsing on the floor, dead.

You try to scream at Kitana, who you know is wearing a face of horror and disbelief, that you didn't mean to do that. Yet, it was for naught as Shao commands his soldiers to take you with the Earthrealmers since you are just as much a threat as them. Again, you writhe against your captors, blind and silent, as you're dragged into the lower level of the laboratory. You try to scream, one last time, that Kitana is being deceived by the snake in her mother's court. Yet, it all fell on deaf ears.

Shang Tsung is the last thing you hear before you're dragged down the stairs.

"I truly regret it has come to this, my sweet."

You felt a weight sink in your stomach.

Playlist While Writing This:

"Monster" By Lady Gaga

"Darkside" By Neoni

"Never Forget You" By Zara Larsson

"My Demons" By Starset

[camillesblogsposts]

Say yes to me - one

@pinkazelma @lostcasefile @kyleeservopoulos @cursedpixie @ellieinmybed

You were fourteen when you decided you wanted Ellie Williams to be yours. You hadn’t been in Jackson long, neither had she. Your hair was long and always plaited; you had a bit of a reputation for being miss perfect. Ellie incessantly picked on you and rejected your advances for a friendship- this only spurred you on, naive and sweet. You didn’t understand the feelings she gave you from being close but you understood the need for her to be yours.

At eighteen, this dynamic hadn't shifted much.

You were on patrols today- 8am, partnered with Ellie. You had managed to convince Maria to partner you together again despite Ellie's displays of aversion to your presence. This is what motivated you to get out of bed, quickly getting dressed and braiding your hair, dabbing on a bit of berry stain onto your cheeks and lips. You grabbed your backpack and the sandwiches you had prepared the evening before from the fridge in your shared kitchen with Cat. "You're awful peppy for eight am." Her voice was gravely with sleep, wiping her eyes. "Morning! Did you sleep well?" You smiled at her, noticing that she was wearing one of Ellie's old shirts. Your stomach tensed a little. She shook her head, "Na, couldn't stop thinking about today." She grabbed a pint of your home made ice cream from the freezer and a spoon. "You'll be fine, Cat! Your tattoos are amazing." You put your hand onto her arm to comfort her. She shook her head, taking a mouthful. "Not that, bout' you being with El."

"Oh, why?"

"She's gonna be pissy with everyone all day."

You sighed and nodded, still smiling. "Maybe today she'll realise how funny and sweet and amazing I am." Cat didn't respond to this, rolling her eyes and walking back towards her bedroom. You liked living with your friend. But the fact that your friend was also absolutely obsessed with Ellie sort of tainted that fact.

You left, secretly a little hopeful that today would be the day. You said the sentences on repeat in your head- Ellie will be happy to see me today. Ellie will be nice to me today. I'll show Ellie how strong I can be today. Things like that, the normal chants of your routine. When you got to the gate, Ellie was already there on Shimmer. She glanced at you and quickly snapped her head away in dramatics. Your horse, Cupcake, was being petted by Jesse beside her. He smiled at you a little nervously.

"Hey, c'mon, time to get going." He spoke, helping you up onto Cupcake gently. He patted your thigh as if to say good luck. Ellie didn't say a word until you were outside of Jackson's gates. You were to be going to the library and back, generally an easy route.

"This is the last time you're partnered with me." The sound of her voice made your throat clench. She made a point to always be ahead of you, never beside. "I made you food for lunch, egg mayo sandwiches." You tried to ignore her comment, ambitious to change her mind. She didn't say anything in return, having Shimmer speed up a bit. You were glad for the absolute lack of infected along the trail to the library. It was uncomfortably silent, you occupied yourself with daydreams of Ellie, watching as she moved her hands on Shimmer's reigns, how her head turned to look left and right, the way her hair moved in the wind.

"What are you doing later?" Your voice was a little high, obvious to Ellie that you were nervous to speak again. "Can you stay focused for more than five fucking minutes? We have a job to do, we're not hanging out." She didn't look back at you, continuing forwards. You didn't try to speak again until you got to the library, tying the horses reigns to a nearby tree.

"You got a gun?" She asked. You nodded, looking up at her in a way to make yourself look as sweet as possible, a little pouty and wide eyed. She grimaced slightly, looking away. Ellie seemed to struggle with looking at you for more than a few seconds. You held your little pistol timidly, it always felt a bit wrong. If it wasn't for Ellie you would have opted out of patrols completely. You weren't completely incapable but you weren't necessarily skilled. Ellie was a complete natural, weapons seemed to fit her hands like a glove. You always felt most safe with her despite her contempt.

"Do you have.. a plan?" You spoke meekly, Ellie already walking ahead towards the entrance. "If there's infected, we kill them, if not then we log that it was clear, as always." She deadpanned you. You smiled a little, trying to make it so that you were in on the joke.

"Just stay behind me." She said as she opened the door, shining her flashlight into the entranceway. It was clear, seemingly. You entered behind. You scoped out the area briefly and didn't come across anything unusual, Ellie stood over the log book about to write this down. "Did you check in that back room?" You asked, noticing a door somewhat hidden behind a pile of boxes. She shook her head, looking in the direction. "I'll do it." You began walking to the door, she watched.

You opened it gently as to not make noise, immediately noticing a clicker- hunched over in the far end of the room. You could shoot it from here. You aimed your pistol at its head, a brief thought of Ellie telling you that you did a good job popping into your head.

You missed. The bullet hit the wall beside it and it immediately turned, running and lunging for you- you stumbled back, tripping over yourself and falling. Ellie shot it. If she had been a second slower you would have been a goner. Its body fell, slumping over you. You shuffled away, breathing unsteady as you couldn't control your panic. "You killed it," You managed to get out, Ellie grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you up from the ground. "Jesus, how the fuck did you miss that?" Her voice was loud, ringing against your ear. Her face was stern. "M' sorry, I tried, really." You were quiet, stepping from foot to foot nervously, eyes on the floor.

Ellie moved past you into the back room, walking around a corner where you hadn't noticed another doorway. You heard three gunshots in quick succession, then she reappeared to exit the room and seal the door. "Four. Must've wandered in here during a storm." She mumbled mostly to herself as she walked to fill out the log book. You walked to her, a little shaky and unsure. "Are we all done?" You asked, she nodded. "Keep an eye out for any on the way back." She was walking ahead of you again back to the horses.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, lines on her forehead from tension as she got up onto Shimmer. You were still breathing fast, the edges of your vision growing darkened. You felt faint. Sloppily, you tried to get onto Cupcake. You slipped, nearly falling completely over. Without a word Ellie grabbed your waist with both hands, holstering you up onto your horse. It happened within a second or two but your heart pounded. Her hands had been around your waist. You imagined it again, but this time you were bent over, Ellie pulling you back onto her strap. You cringed, embarrassed to be thinking something so perverted right beside her a matter of minutes after she saved your life.

On the way back, you noticed that Ellie had taken a book from the library, the cover poking out from her backpack. You didn't see any more infected and not a word was exchanged between the two of you. When inside Jackson, Ellie stood for a moment to tend to Shimmer. You took your opportunity and snatched the book from her backpack.

Good girl gone bad it was titled, the cover picture depicting two girls. If you squinted they kinda resembled you and Ellie. The thought made you blush. Surely, she hadn't thought that herself. You turned the book over in your hands to read the summary- it was obscene. Your stomach flipped.

Good girl Amanda meets Bad girl Laura, Laura teaches Amanda how to let go of the stresses that come with being a top student by meeting to fuck her to sleep in her dorm room every night. When Amanda catches feelings, will Laura reciprocate them?

You had never seen anything like that before. Sure, you knew what girls did together. You'd listened to Cat and Dina's stories, you'd made jokes, you thought about it constantly but seeing it depicted in such a way felt so much more intimate. Especially considering Ellie had chosen it specifically.

"W-What the fuck," Ellie's voice startled you, she snatched the book from you sharply. You looked up at her with wide eyes, stepping away quickly. Your face felt so hot it could produce steam. "Sorry! I was just curious and I-" You rambled quickly shaking your hands. "What so you could take the piss out of me?" She looked furious, and for the first time clearly you understood that she was embarrassed. She seemed to pull that expression frequently but you could never prior place the emotion.

"What? No, I wouldn't ever make fun of you Ellie." Your voice was gentle. She grimaced and turned on her heel, shoving the book back into her bag and leaving the stables. You followed after her after a moment, she was speaking to Maria, voice loud and thick with irritation.

"She cannot be on patrols again, she's going to get whoever she's partnered with and herself killed."

You lingered outside, listening. She was right. You felt so ashamed.

"All I've been asking is that you make an effort to be kind to her. She wants to be friends with you, she has always wanted that, why is that so hard for you?" Maria spoke, authoritative.

"Because I don't want to be her friend, I cant stand being anywhere fucking near her, it makes my skin itch."

You felt her words hit your chest, harsh and cold.

"Ellie, you're being unreasonable. What does she do wrong?"

"I'm not talking to you about this, I came to talk to you so that you'll take her off patrols." She was quieter. Your vision was blurred.

"Okay, she won't be partnered with you again."

"No, she cant be on fucking patrols at all Maria, she's useless."

Maria didn't respond. You assumed she gave a nod, the type she does when she feels defeated. It's infrequent but solemn. Ellie came storming out before you had a chance to scurry away. You didn't look directly at her, handing out the sandwich you'd made for her.

"What's this?" She asked, voice sharp. "The sandwich I made for you." You tried your hardest to speak in a normal tone. Ellie paused, taking it from your hand after a moment of silence. "Are you... crying?" She lowered her voice slightly. You chocked a little on your words but before you managed to reply she had sort of stiffened up turned and left, sandwich in hand.

Maria came soon after, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You shouldn't let her treat you like this." She said. You shook your head, "It's my fault Maria, I nearly got us both killed, she's right." Maria sighed. Since you were little it had been impossible for others to deter you from going after Ellie. You remembered being younger, fifteen or so, Joel comforting you stiffly as you sobbed because Ellie had shoved you off and swore at you after you had tried to hug her. "Its not you kiddo, it's just hard for her."

You just wanted to make it easier for her.

[ryiju-muunie]

hewoo!!!! could u write a yuji x reader SH hurt/comfort fic? it would really help me.. :>

One Minute At a Time

Viwer discretion is advised

GN!reader/Yuji Itadori Warning: No graphic description or direct mention of the type of SH, angst, hurt/comfort, Yuji will comfort you all :(, bath, bathing together Word count: 1055 DESC: Yuji will take care of you until you stop hurting

I hope you feel better ANON

REQUESTS and ASKS open!

You weren’t doing well and he knew it. Yuji had a way of knowing when you were upset again. And he had a way of knowing when you would relapse. You’d pull at the sleeve of your shirt and wear the same sweatpants for days at a time. And he hated it. He hated to see you suffer and he hated that he couldn’t do anything about it. You were gorgeous. You were the prettiest person he had ever met. With your weight, your bones, your hair, your teeth. Even if you hated all of it. Even if you found every single flaw within those things … he loved it. He loved you. And it pained him so hard to see you didn’t love yourself as much. Yuji knew you’d get better for a bit and stop. Then something would happen and you’d go back to the only coping mechanism you knew. He had a similar history. Instead of acknowledging his feelings he’d shove them down until one singular bad thing happened, and he’d blow up into a million pieces. He was trying to stop but it was hard. So he couldn’t imagine how hard it was for you.

Yuji tried to subtly hint at therapy or other ways to cope, but he never wanted to overstep. He knew you thought he didn’t know about your coping but he did. He knew from the moment it started. He knew you so well it was hard not to notice. So the day you came up to him with tears in his eyes, he knew things were going to change. He was sitting in his apartment when he heard a loud knock at the door. It was strange but he didn’t think much of it. Probably a salesman or some package he didn’t know about. He opened the door and saw you, hair a mess and tears flowing down your cheeks. You had on the same outfit he saw you in two days ago, but he wasn’t focused on that. Yuji was focused on the fact you were shaking and clutching your clothed arm. You didn’t need to tell him. You didn’t need to speak. And you didn’t need to look down or acknowledge it. 

Yuji grabbed you gently and pulled you into his apartment, closing the door and pulling you into a hug. He leaned down and rested his face against your shoulder. He inhaled your sorrow and listened as you cried gently, explaining what had happened. He nodded and reassured you, taking the time and effort to make sure you were okay. That you were safe now. He would never leave your side again until you were healed and truly better. He’d take you everywhere with him if he had to. After the hug, Yuji made it a point to wrap your arm. Just to wrap it from infection and to help you avoid seeing what had happened. The last thing you needed was to see it again. 

He took your hand and led you down his hallway to his bathroom, closing the door behind you two. You shakily sniffed and looked around, eyeing the bathtub, “Yuji…?” You asked, knowing what he was going to do. He lightly shhed you and turned on the tub, making the water nice and warm. He wasn’t sure how long you had been in those clothes, how long it had been since you took care of yourself. He didn’t care. He needed to help you now even if you felt a bit ashamed. Yuji didn’t mind having to wash your back delicately, dress you, or even feed you! He’d do it for a thousand years if it meant you were going to be okay. 

“Let me do this,” Yuji murmured, stopping the water after it had reached a good height. He gently took your face into his large hands, staring down at you and then kissing your forehead. He kissed your forehead, then your right temple, followed by your left, then your cheeks, then your nose. A small sad smile played on your lips as he watched you, “I love you. Don’t ever think I don’t.”

“Thank you…” You mumbled back, looking toward the bathtub, “Can you come in with me? You don’t have to but…” You trailed off with a bit of shame rising in your voice. Yuji didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up straight, removing his hands from your face and taking off his shirt, followed by the rest of his clothes. He let out a signature laugh and got into the tub, laying back against the back of it and spreading out his legs. 

You watched him warily for a moment before stripping as well. He could see from your eyes you were embarrassed of the marks surrounding your form, and how they littered your skin. All he could say under his breath was, “You’re beautiful,” and motion for you to sit in between his legs. You slowly stepped into the tub, with Yuji holding your arm and hip to ensure you wouldn’t fall. He’d never let you fall. Then he slowly helped you sit down and lean your back against his front, as his arms protectively snaked around you. You let out a small sigh and leaned your head back, closing your eyes. It felt nice. This felt nice. 

“I love you,” Yuji spoke after a silent moment, “I’ll always love you,” you felt a warm kiss against your neck, then another kiss going up further to your jaw. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the tickling sensation as he continued to kiss you, trailing up your cheeks and towards your mouth. He peppered your face, hoping and praying you knew how loved you truly were. Before he stopped and delicately placed one kiss against your lips. Yuji then pulled you back against him, letting the warm water take hold of all your anxiety and melt it away. It was the perfect temperature and he was the perfect boyfriend. You loved him and he loved you, even with all the imperfections you saw about yourself. 

Yuji would love you for a thousand years if it meant showing you how amazing you were. And he would love you for a thousand more if it meant stopping you from ever being sad again.

[the-final-sif]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream and Ponk discuss their experiences with Sam

@sixteenth-day-event "What happened to your arm?"

The question came out of nowhere. It was an impulse. A stupid one. Dream wasn't really expecting a response.

Surprisingly, Ponk's eyes blinked open. They weren't red anymore (thank god), but they were fuzzy and unfocused still. Several seconds ticked by before Ponk managed to rasp out a response.

"Sam."

It was just one word, but it was the most that Dream had gotten out of him so far. He would dismiss it as a quirk of timing, but from Punz's recounting, talking about shit had helped ground him and pull him back from the Egg. Alright. So Dream just needed to keep this going.

"Weren't you two dating?" He could swear he remembered that. Ponk huffed a dry laugh.

"Were. Broke up af'er he cut m' fuckin' arm 'ff."

"That uh- makes sense." Great. A+ conversation. God fucking dammit. Okay, refocus here.

"Was there like, a reason? Or did he just get bored?" That sounded harsher than he meant for it to, but too late now.

Ponk's gaze went hazy for a moment, too far maybe? Before he managed to shake his head, bringing himself back down.

"Stole the prison keys. Wasn't eve' tryin' to do much. He'd been ignorin' me. Thought it was funny. Thought I might go visit you or somethin'. He freaked out. Never thought- Never thought he'd do something like this." As he finished speaking, Ponk managed to lift his good hand just barely and gesture at his stump.

Ah. Dream wasn't sure how he felt about that. Was it better? That it hadn't been just him. Who thought Sam could be trusted and was wrong? Or was it worse? That it all came back to Dream himself in the end. Something corrupting, corroding, ruining everything he came into contact with?

A question for another time maybe.

"That sucks." Okay, he winced at that one. "Sorry- uh, I didn't. I didn't think he'd do something like that either. Before."

It said a little more than he wanted to say. Ponk, of course, had recovered enough to catch on. Eyes now focusing in on him. Taking him in and judging. Dream clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the weight of an old friend's gaze. Tried to change the subject.

"You feel up for some water?"

Thankfully, Ponk let the topic drop in favor of nodding. Probably parched by now. Dream pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the spill proof bottle that Punz had left. They were ready for this.

He held it out carefully, trying his best to control the shaking in his own hands. From how Ponk's eyes narrowed, he didn't quite manage it.

The light in here was soft, and Dream had been hoping that would hide his scarred hands. Not from Ponk's eyes though, as the other carefully took the water bottle, drinking from it in long gulps.

By the time it was finished, Dream had returned to his spot on the far side of the room, right by the door so he could get out if he needed to. Not that he would need to. Ponk wasn't infected anymore, the guy could hardly lift a bottle.

The silence stretched out between them, until finally, Ponk spoke again, eyes watching Dream's hands far too closely.

"Is it fucked up if I'm glad it wasn't just me? That he- It was him. I mean, I knew he was the one that fucked up. He cut my fucking arm off over some fucking keycards. But- I mean- He kept trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. Like I should just ignore what he did to me. Like it was all my fault. I didn't buy it- but- I mean- God, I'm not sure what I mean."

Something inside Dream wanted to break. Wanted to shatter apart. Wanted to scream and cry and-

"It's okay." Dream replied, his voice far more shaky than he would've liked. "I get it." That might be a lie. Both statements might be lies.

"I'm glad it wasn't just me either." Dream said, because it was what he needed to say.

Maybe one day he'd be able to figure out if he meant it.

[illyrian-dreamer]

Overwritten – Part 2

 Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel. 

Warnings: Violence, torture, injuries

Words: 1,472

--------

Part 2 ∇

“Oh my word!” Feyre ran towards the Spymaster while he waded through the grass of the camp ground, your unconscious body still close to his chest. “Is she alright?” 

Azriel didn't answer as he stalked past, his eyes focused forward as he geared for his tent – your tent. Rhys caressed his mate’s face, catching her up mind to mind.

As promised, Madja was already inside, preparing the cot and supplies she may need. She hurried over to the Shadowsinger as soon as he burst through the entrance, not waiting for him to set you down to make her initial observations. While you were limp in his arms, Madja pressed her fingers to your wrist and placed the back of her palm against your clammy forehead, tutting under her breath.

While he didnt dare speak, Azriel’s golden eyes swirled with desperation, his gaze begging her for good news. His shadows hovered around you, doing their best to keep away as Madja assessed you. Drawing her hands back across her chest, she let out a quick breath.

“She’ll live,” she said plainly, Azriel’s figure sagging in relief for the third time that night. “She’s severely malnourished, dehydrated, and she’s fighting an infection. There’s also something else I can't quite place.”

“It’s poison.” Rhys spoke from behind Azriel, he and Feyre having entered the tent. “I can see how it plagues her mind.”

Azriel couldn't help the twang of jealousy he felt at his brother’s deamati abilities. To be able see into your mind and ease your pain, to help you sleep – these were things he would sell his soul to provide for you.

“I can feel it too, through the bond,” Azriel added gruffly. “And smell it in her scent.”

Madja nodded. “We’ll need to find the exact source for the right antidote.”

“We’ll arrange for Cassian to search the prison,” Feyre said calmly, her eyes distant as she reached the General through his mind.

Madja ushered Azriel towards the cot, directing him to place you down. It took a quiet moment to fight his own instinct to ever let you go, but your mate set you down gently, bringing a soft hand to caress your cheek. Your skin was greyish, lacking sunlight, blood, life… Azriel hoped the pain he felt at the sight of your disheveled state couldn't be sensed down the bond.

“What of her pain?” he asked helplessly, crouching at your side. Rhys’s hand rested on his shoulder, Azriel refusing to turn from you.

“I’ve blocked her pain and willed a dreamless sleep,” Rhys reassured him.

“Good,” said Madja. “Keep it that way. She needs to fight the infection.” Rhys nodded tightly and Azriel sighed, noting the beads of sweat that formed on your face. Reaching for a nearby cloth, he dotted the sweat away.

Madja shooed Azriel away from your cot, working to clean the visible cuts and aid the bruises that spotted your body. Rhys took the opportunity to pull his brother to the side – his shadows lingering back, soothing you while you slept.

“Az, you need to prepare yourself for when she wakes.”

Azriel frowned, folding his arms over his chest, blue siphons flaring. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Feyre looked between the two males before placing a gentle hand on Azriel’s forearm. “Y/N was not herself when Rhys and Cass found her,” she said softly, her eyes full of sympathy for the Shadowinger.

“What are you saying?” Azriel's jaw ticked, his usual stoic demeanour replaced with irritated impatience and concern.

“She didn't recognise who we were,” Rhys said. Azriel’s eyes darted between his High Lord and Lady, now panicked. Rhys spoke quickly. “It’s likely the poison had caused her delirium, but she was violent Az, completely feral if I may speak plainly.”

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I can feel her down the bond. She’s still there, she’ll remember.”

“Good,” Feyre said with a broken smile. “That’s good. Keep reaching out, keep her grounded.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm now, attempting to soothe him.

Azriel nodded, looking past the couple as your limp state. Overwhelmed by relief, regret, and fear of the unknown, tears began to sting at the Shadowsinger’s eyes. Burying his face in one hand, he tried to hide the evidence of his emotions, but his friends were too perceptive.

‘It’ll be ok, Az,” Feyre soothed.

“She’s here now brother, try not to fret,” Rhys added.

Now that he had found you, Azriel finally allowed the shame he had been burying for all those months to surface. “She’s my mate,” he said quietly, his husky voice breaking as his tears flowed freely. “She’s my mate, and I let this happen to her.”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged a pained look, agreeing down their own bond that if it had been the other, they would likely blame themselves too.

Ever so thoughtfully, Feyre guided Azriel to a seat next to your cot. Azriel slumped into the chair, his face buried in his hands as he tried to control his emotions. His shadows found him again, building around his frame – hiding, concealing.

“Stay with her brother,” Rhys patted Azriel on the shoulder. “Help her find her way back.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, mumbling a thanks to his High Lord and Lady as they left you to sleep, and him to agonise in privacy.

————

You stumbled through never ending void of complete white. No sound could be heard, and the air was still. Your heart pounded as you looked around you – sensing danger was near, but you just couldn't see it.

This wasn't a dream, no, it was far too painful, but it wasn't reality either. It was a trance of types – one meant as a message or warning. One you would be sure to adhere.

You whirled, searching for any signs of life. Walking was becoming more difficult, your limbs heavy as if something plagued you, dragging you down.

Finally, you reached the edge. The edge of nothingness. Peering down, you could only see depth. One more step would send you careening into the white abyss, falling forever into nothingness, never to be found again. Your head ached as you tried to remember anything beyond this place. A world, a face, even a sound. The pain was blinding, even just to think.

It was then that you saw the shadows, the unmistakable peaks of wings blocking whatever light and warmth as they cast over you. Gasping, you spun, your stance instinctively defensive.

The male grinned down at you, his wicked smile lethal as his hazel eyes swirled. A long, serpent-like tongue glided over his teeth – no, fangs. You didn't know what he was – a devil, a demon, perhaps an angel of death. Every part of your screamed at you to take that jump of the edge, begging you to choose the infinite free fall than to be surely killed by this thing.

His figure grew then, elongating and towering over you as his eyes changed from honey gold to a vicious red. Shadows swarmed you, pinning you to the ground. It was too late to run.

“Leave me alone!” you managed to scream, fighting against the shadows. It was hard to hear your voice over the roar of panic in your ears. Little light remained as darkness filled your vision, the creature lowering his gaze, preparing to attack. Hands turned to talons before a snarl ripped from him, his bright eyes fixed on your throat.

The snarl grew to a roar as he launched, a piercing sound escaping you as you screamed for your life.

————

Azriel jumped as you jolted awake, flying upwards as you clung to your chest, gasping. With frantic eyes you scanned the room, clutching at your filthy tunic and running a shaky hand through your hair. Azriel’s heart broke at your panic, before quickly pounding in anticipation. This was the moment he had ached, dreamt and killed for – the moment he got his mate back.

“Y/N?” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper. Frantic eyes found him then, widening, then darkening as they fixed on his face.

He slowly raised a hand to his chest, the other extending to your cot. “Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.” Azriel’s eyes swelled with despair, his guilt consuming as he reached for you. You remained unmoving, your gaze shifting to where his hand now rested, almost touching you.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” he said in attempt to reassure you. Your chest moved up and down with breathy pants, your eyes trailing his strong arm back to his face as you studied him. 

There was a beat of silence between you, just the sound of your breathing filling the tent. Your expression was unreadable as you stared at him blankly.

“Y/N, it’s me, Azriel.”

Despite Rhys’s warning, Azriel was unprepared when you launched for him, knocking him to the floor. 

Eyes wide, he clawed at your hands that were tightly wrapped around his neck, your own eyes dark as you slowly choked the air out of the Shadowsinger.

--------

Part 3 >>>

AN: 👀 I hope you liked Part 2!!! 💕

Comment if you’d like to join the series or general tag list, and thank you always for reading!

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[isolde-illustrates]

Fintan and Bronte Headcannons

Fintan:

He needs glasses ever since the ever blaze incident. Fintan is neither nearsighted nor farsighted; his vision was mutually messed up in both ways. Incidentally, his hearing has gotten sharper because of how much he focuses on using it.

He refuses to wear his glasses despite having damage due to the bright burning light.

He also cannot smell anything except smoke faintly whenever he is near a fire. All of his nose hair has literally burnt off, so he gets a lot of sinus infections, too. The ice prison does not help at all, and he constantly has a runny nose (which he cannot stand).

Fintan sometimes walks into walls and somehow manages to pull it off so no one except the doctor who took care of him right after the incident knows how bad his vision is (the doctor was too afraid of fintan).

Everyone in the neverseen is waiting for him to admit that he can't see, but then Fintan does crazy stuff that makes them think that he actually has perfect vision and is just faking it.

Fintan does not wear shirts under his hoodies or vests because he can't stand the extra heat. (tw: scar) Fintan also hates whenever his chest is exposed because of a scar he has from the accident, so he always laces up whatever he is wearing really tight, or adds more buttons to his shirts and vests so that there are not any gaps that could show his scar if he bent forward.

His scar could have been healed, but he wanted to keep one of the scars from that day as a reminder of what happened. It's close to his heart, although the worst part is near his stomach. Bronte knows about this scar because he overheard Fintan yelling at the doctor for trying to heal that scar when Bronte was on his way to talk with Fintan about the Council.

He loves elegant clothing. That was the third thing he hated most about being kicked off the Council. Not only did he lose his ability and power, Fintan was no longer allowed to buy certain degrees of fancy clothes. As a result, he now knows how to sew very well. He still insisted on making someone else do the patchwork in the Neverseen while he was there. Alvar and Ruy normally ended up stuck with the work.

Fintan is killer in heels. He can wear those bright red kinky boots and run in them (unless there is a tree root that he does not see). Still, if the ground is visible to him, or if it is fairly level, then he will sprint in those boots. He would also kill song 6 of Kinky Boots. There is no denying it.

He and Vespera were besties and he started out borrowing Vespera's dresses, but then just went ahead and made his own. They are both fragil and frail creatures, so it definitely would have worked.

Fintan used to have hair down to his waist, but after it got burnt in the accident, he swore that he would never let it touch his shoulders again because that was the version of himself that died in the fire, the young pyrokinetic who thought that he had nothing to lose in a dangerous lesson. The only times his hair has gotten long again have been when he has been in prison, both in Exile and now ib the ice prison. In Exile, it was just past his shoulders. Fintan had cut it again, but his time in the ice prison has gotten his hair almost to his bicep.

Fintan has a thing for chickens. Besides tasting good (he can't help that he tried it when Atlantis had humans), chickens seem so trusting of him and recognize him. He had a couple at his house, and they helped with his gardening (fertilizer).

Bronte:

He has perfect vision, which annoys Fintan to the extreme, especially because Fintan sometimes has to listen to the voice before knowing who is nearby.

Bronte learned how to speak multiple human languages, which is how he was able to speak with Amy (I don't care what Shannon says about the languages being the same, why should English be the one that is exactly like the elven language and not Latin, Persian, etc).

He knows all of the human curse words that Sophie switches into when things are bad and does not call her out on it unless she forgets to switch and stays in Elvish (because he thinks it's funny when she apologies and immediately says a string of human curse words, mainly English and Spanish, but whatever she heard in a high school with the ability to hear human thoughts). She was fluent in those words before becoming a polyglot, and sometimes Bronte lets a word slip, forgetting that Sophie is there. It has become an inside joke for them.

Bronte loves layers. He will bundle himself up in longer capes and procede to almost trip on them.

He would not be caught dead in heels. (Bronte would have, however, been caught alive in heels if it was just around Fintan. Not anymore though, because he no longer trust him after the whole Neverseen thing. Bronte was the Charlie of the two, and Fintan was the Lola.)

Bronte started cutting his hair short because Fintan teased him. Originally, he and Finran both rocked the long hair. Bronte had a mullet that went to his shoulders. His cropped hair and short height reminds Fintan of a little chick (which makes sense as Fintan doesn't know if he wants to kill Bronte or keep him forever).

[sleazysquid]

Strangers On A Train (Dabi x Reader)

Anon Asks: If requests are still open, some filthy Dabi breeding kink plz 🥺💕💕 love your work !!!

Hi anon! Glad you’re here! Sorry this took a while!!! I hope you like what I’ve come up with <3 I feel like his breeding kink is mostly empty promises meant to keep you leashed to him. Someone he just plucked out of society wouldn’t know any better than to believe whatever he says. I felt like I needed the right inspiration to hit in order to write since this is just so delicious, and I think I found it in the form of an old adult film a friend told me about one time. I wish I knew the title of it, but without further ado, here’s a mean Dabi with a disgusting breeding kink ;)

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags/Warnings: (focuses on real themes, dark content), chikan, fem reader, noncon, sex with no prep, breeding kink, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, misogyny, very light yan themes if you squint

It starts off with a tired day. Whether you’re busy at work, hungover after a party or whatever. The long journey home has just started, and you thankfully found a seat after the first stop. Almost immediately after sitting, you’ve found yourself nodding off on the train. The quiet hums of the cart rustling you back and forth gently, it’s beckoning you, eye lids getting heavier and heavier, the announcer overhead growing more faint as your brain shuts down slowly. A sudden jolt of adrenaline kicks in as a hustle of people pack into your cart like sardines. A peculiar man boards, standing across from where you sit. He’s scarred from head to toe with raven black hair and roughed up clothing that’s been torn up in a few areas.

You two exchange short lived eye contact. A courteous smile is extended on your part as more humans pack into the train and obstruct your view of him. The doors close, the next stop is heard over the radio, the train sputters to a rolling start. You look up to haphazardly observe your surroundings, a pregnant woman is standing with her fingers gripped tightly around the handle vertical from you, the train jostling her around with ease.

“Ma’am,’ you whisper,

“You can take my seat if you’d like”

She smiles politely and whispers back “thank you” as you switch spots with her, passengers already taking it upon themselves to stare at the two of you. Despite whispering, you’re still technically being disruptive by social standards.

Heavy eyelids come back to pester you again, even when you’re standing with white knuckles around the strap. You’re not quite aware of your surroundings, your mind is just coasting through trying to get to the last stop as best as you can. The world around you focuses in and out as you drift through phases of consciousness. Such a sluggish feeling, so sluggish you don’t notice the scarred man you smiled at earlier has moved from where he initially stood on the train. Chest against your back, you can feel his soft rugged breathing as he leans closer into you, taking advantage of every bump the train tends to make.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the will to fight off the urge to sleep strengthens as you’re now hyper aware of your surroundings, and particularly, interpreting if this man has any ulterior motives. Your feelings are confirmed almost immediately as the man rests a hand on your hip, dry humping against your ass. The grinding motion of his clothed cock teasing you slowly, against your will, your heart flutters in conjunction with your body tremors with the hot stare, his cerulean eyes watching every bounce and jiggle of your body in such an observant and petulant manner. He leans into your figure further, nose brushing against your goosebump ridden neck, inhaling your scent.

“Are you aware of the declining birthrate that’s infecting our country as we speak?” His gruff voice whispers against your skin.

“Sir—“ you turn to look at the perpetrator, shocked at his disgusting comments.

“—Shhhhh!!” A patron hushes you. Suppose you already had your free pass to speak when you gave up your seat, any more noise and you’d rather not have the entire train agree to kick you off for making more of an issue. You’re baffled at the lack of empathy your fellow passengers have for you, much more quick to dismiss than to bring light a conflict.

The hand that once took purchase on your hips slowly creeps upward underneath your shirt, cupping the swell of your breast and squeezing down hard before pinching and rolling your nipple between his calloused dirty fingers.

“See that woman over there? That you so graciously offered your seat to? Why don’t you fulfill your duty and help the birth rate” he hisses delicately over the shell of your ear as his lips press against the soft flesh.

The others surrounding you notice your predicament, but choose to either avert their eyes or keep staring at the spectacle he’s causing.

“We’re getting off on the next stop. Say anything and you’ll be burnt to a crisp on the spot, understand?”

The low rumble of his voice causes a shiver down your spine as you nod nervously to his demands. As the announcement came to a head, he ushers you off the train, stapled hands keeping the firm grasp on your hips. He’s dangerously close behind you, guiding you down an unknown road that leads to a dark disheveled apartment. You’re greeted by beer cans and empty cartons of cigarettes scattered around a single stained twin sized mattress.

Each article of clothing is pawed off in a disordered manner, he can’t seem to keep his hands or his mouth off you. A shoe here, a shirt there, you’re stripped down to the bare nude hastily before being pushed onto the dirty mattress. The scarred man stays pretty much clothed, opting more for convenience on his part by pulling out his hardened cock. Cigarette butts cling to your back as you’re nearly crushed by his full weight, slotting himself between your legs and leaving no warning for bottoming out inside you completely.

Beer cans clink and roll off the bed with how hard he’s fucking you into the mattress. He doesn’t let up, keeping himself sheathed for as long as possible. Your eyes glaze over with tears rolling down the sides of your face, mind desperately trying to dissociate, but between the jolts of pain, pleasure begins to bloom ever so slightly, but nothing that comes to fruition. The villain’s moans get louder, more whiny, his movements are more erratic.

A hand moves up to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him, “Yeah you want me to get it all inside and keep you here tied down to me forever? That’s what you’re doing to me looking at me with those beautiful wet eyes. Your pussy’s too tight and too pretty to not fill up.” He sucks in air through his teeth.

Fear hits the pits of your stomach, “No, no… No please don’t”

He brandishes a smile, bright blue eyes staring deep into your squirming form. Not another word is exchanged from either of you, thrusts coming to a sloppy piston as this stranger fills your womb to the brim with potent seed. His mouth slightly ajar, crazed eyes now half-lidded with a his hand wrapped around your neck, heat radiating from the palm, a vague threat of burning you beyond recognition. This is your life now, no longer the strangely beautiful mundane work-home rut you once resented.