#KIT IS SO HARD TO WRITE. I GET SO CONCERNED WHEN I WRITE HER. going back through old character notes.....making new ones.......
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my mom: you on a roll? me: no. i've yet again reached 'am i writing this character right' my mom: of course you are!!!! don't doubt yourself!!!! me: NO. I ALWAYS DO
#KIT IS SO HARD TO WRITE. I GET SO CONCERNED WHEN I WRITE HER. going back through old character notes.....making new ones.......#i'm always wondering 'is this what she'd do?' while trying to work out these plot points. i go 'okay. this could happen. .......would she'#i have a big master document though of sugar bowl gen characters and their wants and the expression of them i did a few years back#so that helps. but also vfd doesn't exist in this au.#look it does in college au in a specific way. but in this au............i think it was also there in a specific way but less so.#much less so. more among the snickets themselves i think.#re: the.......expression of morality and nobility here. which still exists even w vfd's lesser looser form bc that's still a major piece of#kit regardless. vfd exacerbates it. so do these circumstances#sigh. idk. i'm tired i am looking forward to dinner. making big pepper sammiches#(also i was up late last night reading Totally Unrelated Fic)#anyway. back to kit. i second guess myself on her the most out of anybody. she has to encompass a lot. her desire for control.#seeing her actions in black and white necessary vs unnecessary right vs wrong based on her own ideas of what is Right.#i always worry i just write her with no personality. but i think she's private and very closely guarded and just. lightly playful at times#and i get scared she comes out bland.......................#oh but yknow. i do like the way i wrote her in like a row of captured ghosts.......................#I'VE GOT POTENTIAL
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love love love your writing, could you do something with luca? maybe reader gets hurt in the kitchen and he has to help her
a/n: thank you so much :’) i went a different kitchen than you meant probably but i hope u like <33
warning!! contains non-graphic mentions of accidental cuts, blood, and a physical injury.
The apartment is peaceful. Candles lit, soft music playing from a playlist you both curate, and it was pretty enough outside to leave the windows cracked open for a breeze.
You’re turning around with a stack of t-shirt’s in your arms, only half paying attention when you feel yourself bump into something that promptly shatters to the ground and disrupts the peaceful environment.
“Shit!” You both echo at the same time from being startled.
Luca’s wrapping a towel around his hand, leaving everything in the kitchen behind as he hunts you down. “Darling? What happened? Are you alright?” He took just enough time to realize that the knife had gotten him when he jumped, acknowledged he was alright, and quickly went to check on you. You’d always come on the top of his priority list.
You’re standing in a pile of glass, a deep set frown on your lips as you look around at mess made by a broken vase. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I was trying to put away our laundry and forgot I moved the vase to the edge of the dresser earlier when we were cleaning. Just caught the corner and it fell.”
Looking up at him with a little pout, “I’m sor-“
You’ve honed in on his towel wrapped hand, the hint of blood soaking through the thin material.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely fucked my hand.” He gives you some sort of ‘What can you do’ look while shrugging his shoulders. Luca has had his fair share of kitchen incidents and was much more accustom to injuries. It was deep enough to need stitches, just needed to be rinsed and bandaged.
You, however? Very much not used to seeing your boyfriend like this.
A gasp falls from your lips as you rush over to grab his wrist, taking a peek under the towel and wincing. “Luca!” He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re dragging him back into the kitchen to get him taken care of.
You’re standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the sink, trying to fight the urge to panic at the sight of him injured due to a mistake you made. He can see the way your face is all twisted up with concern and he hates it.
“M’alright… Done much worse to myself before. Won’t even leave a scar.” A scar? You frown more as you make sure the cut is clean and step back to go fish out the first aid kit from the bathroom.
“Stay put, please.”
Luca, a man, stands there as he’s told but does admire the sway of your ass as you barrel away. He then gets to admire the swell of your cleavage under your top and - “Shit!” He hissed out as you’re grabbing his hand again to apply a bit of ointment.
“Shoulda paid less attention to my boobs and you would have seen this coming.” You tease while trying so hard to keep the mood as light as you can muster. There was still a course of guilt running through your veins as you continue patching him up.
“I truly am fine, you know? Comes with the job territory. Won’t be the last time I get cut.” He leans in to press a tender kiss to your head and you gravitate towards the touch. You know it’s not a life or death situation but between being embarrassed over both breaking the vase and indirectly injuring Luca you were a little solemn to say the least.
“I know, just hate I caused this.” The bandaid is smoothed over his skin and you give it another once over before bringing it to your lips, kissing over the bandaid. Luca allows you to continue fretting over the injury for a moment until he’s moving his hand to cup your jaw and make look up at him.
“It was an accident, no?” You both nod. “Exactly… I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine. Don’t want you beating yourself up over this.”
You take a deep breath and allow his words to sink in for a moment before nodding once again. Eyes flickering up to his before you lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. “M’sorry you got hurt…” Another kiss. “Was kinda hot how well you handled it though.”
Luca laughs against your mouth, a wide grin on his features as he feels your anxiety finally start to settle. He steals one more kiss before stepping back to acknowledge the state of the kitchen, giving your waist a squeeze before he goes.
He glances over the cutting board that was the culprit of injury and the food that started to burn while he was tended to. Shrugging his shoulders, turning to smirk at you with pure love and devotion in his eyes.
“Fuck it, let’s go have a date night out instead.”
A hand claps against the flesh of your ass as he passes you to go get changed.
#chef luca x reader#chef luca x you#chef luca blurb#luca x reader#luca the bear#will poulter x reader#chef luca#carmen berzatto x reader
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blue walls, blue eyes, and the blue blanket // cole walter x reader
summary: you don’t have a good home life and end up unofficially moving in with the walter boys.
warnings: physical & verbal abuse, underage drinking, counsellors depicted in a negative light, swearing, canon divergence–jackie’s family never passes away, so while katherine and her mother are still good friends, they’ve not met/moved in with the walters.
word count: 5957
there’s a ding, and the principal is speaking over the pa. everyone stops what they’re doing so nothing is missed. after all, this doesn’t happen often.
the teacher freezes, dry erase marker still pressed firmly against the board, the end squishing and ink bleeding atop the letter he was writing and danny, who’s sitting beside you, gives you a look. you know its meaning, recognize the weight behind it, and know this routine. you stand up quickly. the backs of your knees slam into the hard plastic you had been sitting on and the chair goes skittering back, bumping into the pair of desks behind you.
you’re too tired to send that apologetic smile to anyone else. fortunately danny isn’t. making sure you aren’t alone, aren’t the only one being disruptive and making noise in an otherwise silent classroom, he braces a hand on the back of his chair, twisting around, to face your wide-eyed classmates. “sorry about that,” he whispers.
your movements are all harsh. they’re fast and full of annoyance, as you swipe your textbook, pencil kit, and water bottle off your desk and into your awaiting tote bag.
standing up, you make your way to the door. the teacher stares daggers at you the entire way. They go to grab your arm and you flinch away. “don’t touch me,” you grit, hands gripping around the doorknob so tightly it hurts. air is hitting your face, propelled towards you by the door you shoved open, when you hear your dismissal “please send y/n l/n to guidance,” spoken over the announcements. your teacher follows you out into the hallway, shouting instructions that you reluctantly follow, after you.
you count the tiles on your way. nearly running into the blue door, you end at fifty six.
ms jacobs, tara, as she’ll insist you call her, is a nice enough lady. she has curly brown hair, brown eyes, and perfectly painted on lipstick. she looks disarming, as a counsellor with the numbers of everyone that could ruin your life on speed dial, you suppose she has to. still, this isn’t new. she leads you further into the room and gestures to a chair “take a seat.”
when you don't, her smile becomes more strained. “please, y/n. this doesn’t need to be difficult, we just need to have a chat.”
you sigh, shoulders sagging as you plop down into the hundredth blue thing in this office. doors, trim, there’s a ridiculous amount of the colour and you don’t like it. blue, represents sadness. it’s something you’ve had enough of. sure, there’s other colours. posters upon posters–some neon, and green leaves stuck onto a large potted plant. there’s other colours just like there’s other feelings, but the one you’re stuck on, the one you can’t get over is sadness; it's blue.
“i hate the colour blue, Ms. Jacobs.” You tell her.
“why?” she asks, interested in you opening up further. you don’t.
“are you going to give me the run-down? tell me what i can and can’t say?”
her brows furrow. “do i need to? i called you here to talk about your grades but if there’s something else going on–”
“there isn’t ms jacobs. i do appreciate the concern, though. about my grades. they’re passing, i don’t see the problem.” you didn’t have a single grade above fifty five. it was hard to, when all of your teachers assigned heaps and heaps of homework and you would rather take a deep-dive into hellfire, brimstone, and lakes of lava, then return to the place you were expected to complete it at.
“call me tara.” you don’t.
“ms jacobs, if it would make you happy, i’ll try harder.”
“it would, y/n. thank you.”
you gather your things and stand. a glance at your phone lets you know your second class is over, so you plan to head to the cafeteria. “and y/n, just know that whatever you say to me is confidential.” Unless you are or are planning to hurt yourself, someone else, or if someone is hurting you.
“bye ms jacobs.”
walking into the cafeteria was masochistic in a way, when they were serving your favourite food, and you had no lunch or money to buy any with. still, in your hurried text chain with danny, this is where you had decided to meet. If you had to sit with the theatre kids to score some time with your friend, you would, although it would be better if you could grab him and go somewhere that didn’t make your mouth water and stomach ache.
walking over to his table, you noticed alex was there too. Just chatting with his brother. You and alex weren’t the best friends, but he was nice enough, and like issac, lee, nathan, and cole, you had his number written down in your notepad under the ‘just in case’ column. you didn’t mind alex, he was polite and much like his brother, danny, never made you feel less than. alex was always armed with a smile.
“danny!” you called, announcing your presence so you wouldn’t scare anyone. you smiled at Alex who as expected, mirrored your expression. “nice to see you. mind if I cut in and steal your brother?”
alex nods, “be my guest. i’ll see you at the end of the day danny!”
he leaves and then you’re pulling danny up and along with you. he barely has time to grab his lunchbox before the two of you are leaving the cafeteria and heading outside. you slump down against the brick wall and danny takes a seat across from you. cross-legged, he pulls out two sandwiches and hands one to you. you eyes widen.
“i’m pretty observant,” he supplies, shrugging.
“thank you, d” you eat the sandwich, and it’s a good one. “do you have plans after school?” ‘please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy, please don’t be busy’ you repeat in your head over and over again. it’s a mantra, you’re manifesting. hoping, hoping, hoping.
“y/n/n, i’m sorry, i actually do. erin tried out for the school’s production and she wants help going over her lines–i would invite you to tag along but…”
“no, no!” yoy laugh. manifesting doesn’t work, mantras are pointless, and shit, what are you supposed to do about tonight? “no, danny. don’t worry about it. i know you like erin and this is the perfect opportunity! if she’s asking for help with lines–i mean you’re awesome–but let’s be real, you can go over lines with anyone. so, if she’s asking you specifically for help, that's such a good–a really good sign!”
you two talk for a while longer but it’s easy to see your mind is elsewhere.
the bell rings, you head to your last classes, and then home.
you’ve got to go home.
well, to your house. that place, those four walls, they stopped being your home a long time ago. when your dad got drunk and your mom got mean.
cole walter pulls up beside you on your way home. his truck slows down, nearly to a stop, and you keep walking. your headphones are on and you’re pretending you can’t hear him. you can, but, you hope he’ll tire of shouting, slam his food on the gas pedal, and leave you in a cloud of dust. “y/n, hey! l/n, you need a ride or what?”
the truck stops, pulls off the side of the road and then you’re hearing a door slam and cringing, face crinkling as you realise you should’ve just said no. shouted it, even.
cole walter jogs up to you. he knows your house is quite far away. too far away to be walking. he calls to you again but you’re still walking forward. he places his hand on your shoulder. you know he’s there. you know he’s beside him and still you fucking flinch. the second time today and you're feeling pathetic. you shouldn’t be–really shouldn’t be. it’s not your fault that people can’t seem to respect the concept of personal space, not your fault that your trust has been violated, shredded and spat out, so many times that touch makes you jump. makes you want to jump, or crawl, your way out of your own skin. you flip your headphones down, letting them fall around your neck, but turning your music up a few clicks so you can still hear it. music is your vice, but no one’s complaining because it’s better than alcohol or drugs or, i don't know, being an asshole–you do that too. unintentionally sometimes. like now.
“what?” you snap. on the defensive.
cole isn’t surprised by your flinching. You were dead to the world, listening to music so loud he could hear it from where he stood paces away from you. if he were you–if it was your hand that had sat down onto his shoulder and surprised him he probably would have shouted. he caught you off guard, he was sorry. both of his hands stuck up in the air. “that’s my bad. sorry for scaring you.”
“sorry for–” you guess he did scare you. in a way. “it’s fine. what are you doing here?” you take your time looking at cole. his sharp jaw, full lips, his blue eyes. usually you hate that colour, but on him? it’s not so bad.
“offering you a ride. youe place is pretty far from here, yeah?”
“it is but i like walking.”
“walking is fine and all, but it’s getting colder and it gets dark around five now. by the time you make it home it’ll be past that. my truck has heat, comfy seats, and i’ll even let you have aux.”
you’re not a stranger to the effect cole walter has on everyone. not at all. when he smiles at you, you feel your cheeks warm. you’re an idiot for not taking him up on that offer. your feet already ache and your legs burn.
some things hurt more, though.
actions, all of them, have consequences.
“i’m fine, cole. but thank you. you’re sweet.”
he shakes his head. you aren’t walking anymore, instead, stopped on the side of the road just waiting. this conversation, it’s going places. places you don’t like. “i can’t let you walk home alone. not in good conscience.”
he’s jogging back to his truck and pulling up beside you. he’s leaning over the centre console and pushing the door open. leaning over further, and helping you up, not starting to drive again until your seatbelt is buckled. if only that was the least of your worries. if. only.
“so what do you want to play?”
you plug in your phone and queue up your playlist. a sad song blasts and you hit skip very quickly, not missing the questioning look cole sends you. you laugh, “don’t tell me you’ve never listened to sad music while you’re reading.”
“i don’t read much, and most of the music i listen to is because of the lyrics. those ones were… dark.”
choosing to disregard most of his statement, you echoed his words back to him. “you don’t read much?”
“alex reads a lot. you two would get along.”
“shared interests aren’t everything. we don’t have much in common but i enjoy your company and danny and i click and we both hate each other's favourite tv show with a passion.”
“what show is that?” you tell him and he grins. “that’s my favourite too–seriously. we should get together and watch it sometime.”
“i’d love that!” so, shared interests aren’t everything, but they’re certainly something. you smile for a couple more kilometres and then it gets harder. when you see the sign with your civic on it, you know that the ride, no matter how awesome it was, and how much fun you had, wasn’t worth it.
you hop out of the truck–cole offered to walk you to the door but you denied, knowing you were already in for it. “thank you, though.”
He nodded. “i can give you a ride tomorrow, too. anytime you need one, really. just ask–or get danny to. I really don’t mind.” you smile. thank him again and climb out of the truck. you walk confidently until he pulls out of the long driveway and onto the road. then you sigh, and it’s because of cole’s conscience that you get home before it’s dark enough for you to slip in unnoticed.
you pause on the porch. you don’t want to go in, but you don’t have a choice. not really. what are your other options? run off into the woods and let yourself be some colorado woodland creature’s lunch? knowing what’s coming, it doesn’t sound too bad. you open the door and nearly sob when the wind slams it shut behind you.
your heart beats hard in your chest like your father’s boots do on the floor. “where the hell have you been! days, gone for days. you couldn’t call, couldn’t fucking text,” with each word, most of them slurred, he storms closer. it’s not even suppertime and his eyes are glassed over with that familiar film, his breath a pungent reminder, as obvious as the one in his hand, of what he’s been drinking all day. your mother is behind him in the hallway, puffing on a cigarette, uninterested. “there’s no respect! ya here the brat? thinking they run the place. comin’ and goin without a care.”
“i don’t–i know i don’t run the place.”
“damn right you don’t!” the half empty–you’ve never been a glass-half-full type of person, not growing up in this–bottle of beer come flying at the wall. it hits just above your head, the liquid and brown pieces of glass falling all over you.
“look what you made me do now! gone and spilled m’drink.”
you had taken your converse off at the door. always being yelled at for trekking in mud and dirtying the floor, the hurried steps you take backwards, hurt. your dad is wearing work boots, steel toe, but the only thing between you and the broken glass is a thin pair of socks. your skin splits. the light blue fabric on your feet turns dark red.
you whimper and each step hurts more than the last. then you bump into the wall. “dad, please.”
“calling me tha’ like you think it’ll make me forgive you. fuck,” he throws a glance over his shoulder. “how’d we make something so… so pathetic?”
your mom shrugs, like she hasn’t a clue, either.
“dad, please. i’m sorry, okay? i’ll call next time.”
“there won’t be a fucking next time! get your shit and get out. all we do for you, all we do and you’re still impossible. keep you fed, clothed, give you a place to sleep and just get attitude, attitude, and disrespect. i’m done being disrespected. done!”
“you can’t just kick me out! i have nowhere to go.” you yell. you yelled. you yelled. oh god. oh hell. oh shit. you see his leg rear back and you go to jump out of the way. you’ve already been kicked out–you just need to get out, and quickly. you jump over his leg but then his fist is wrapped in your hair and you’re falling. then the boot you dodged is slamming into you side. again, again, again. tears are streaming down your face. you’re sobbing.
then he’s picking you up by your shirt. lifting you, dragging you. he opens the door, grabs your bag, your shoes, and throws them outside. then, then he throws you. you land on the porch, body aching and pressing into the hardwood.
the door slams and you’re still sobbing. you’re pretty sure that your new mantra is ‘fuck’. it’s what you repeat over and over again as you drag yourself up and away from the front door. You need to get away, you need to get away. You really need to. creating distance between you and that door, you and those people, is priority.
“fuck, fuck, fuck.”
running isn’t really in the cards for you. you limp away and don’t miss your mother peering out the kitchen window. you guess that from her perspective you do look pathetic. but no more pathetic than your dad, the grown man who had to hurt you to feel powerful and get his point across. your pace is terrible but the darker it gets, the further you get. you’re in the woods now, with no idea where exactly you are and not much supplies. maybe you will end up as woodland creature dinner. there’s not much you can do to help it now. you think about calling someone and then you realise your phone isn’t in your bag. you start to shake. choked laughter bubbles it’s way out of your throat. you’re laughing and then the hysterics shift and you’re sobbing. arms wrapped tightly around yourself you cry for what must be hours.
later, slumped against a tree trunk you decide to tackle your feet. one problem at a time, one shard at a time. you pluck pieces out of your skin and the blood makes you feel nauseous. when the job is done, you slide your socks back on, and walk towards the sound that comforts you most. Rushing water. you find a river, and kneel at its edge. you wash your socks, yourself, and dry on a stone in the sun. you scrub the dirt and grime from your feet. when your socks are mostly dry and the cuts have stopped gushing blood, you put on your shoes and lace them up. then you follow the river. you’ll reach town soon enough. your face isn’t marred, just the rest of you, all hidden beneath layers of clothes–a long sleeve, a flannel, blue jeans.
ideally, you’ll find danny.
you don’t live in an ideal world. the boy you find is not danny but he wants something you can give and has something you need–a place to sleep. you do so without clothes, lying next to him. What you did was in the dark, would stay that way, because before he woke, before you were made to converse with the nameless boy, you dressed and snuck out. the walk of shame was just that, shameful. you felt horrendous. your body still hurt and you found yourself walking into a cafe you knew haley, will’s wife worked at.
asking for handouts made your stomach sour but you couldn’t do much else.
haley was scrubbing down a table when you approached her. “hey, haley.”
“y/n, hey, how’s it going?” then she turned to you and realised, not good. that it was not going good. you shot her a flattened smile. “i really hate to ask. like, i really really do, but i haven’t eaten in a bit and was wondering–”
“yeah, yes. of course. just have a seat, i’ll grab you… do you have any dietary restrictions?” you answer her, and when she comes back, handing you a wrapped meal you thank her profusely. “is there anything you need done around here? i appreciate this so much, but i don’t want to take advantage. i can clean–i’m not a great cook but I can make coffee.”
“you don’t need to do anything. you aren’t taking advantage. not at all. is there anything else i can do for you? anyone i can call? your parents?”
fear fills your eyes and perceptive as ever, she catches it. “not them, please.” is what you whisper. haley nods, disappears behind the counter and makes a phone call. then, she dotes on you for the next ten minutes until wil pulls up outside. he comes in, walks over to your table and sits down across from you.
you’re pretty sure you’ve been caught. the ruse, it’s very much up.
“what’s going on, y/n?”
you shrug and sip at the hot chocolate haley made for you. “well, come on. you don’t have to say anything right now but let’s get you home.” you stand, ready to go anywhere but, and will stops you. “my parent’s home, danny’s. katherine knows you’re coming. come on, kid.”
you follow him to the car. most of the drive is silent, but you thank him when the walter’s house homes into view and katherine is waiting outside on the porch with a smile. up the few stairs, and you head straight for her. you’re grateful for her gentle nature, because as you throw your arms around her and squeeze, she simply rests hers on your back, rubbing soothing circles. “they–they kicked me out.”
she takes a minute to respond, only because she finds this hard to process. you were a good kid, a great one, and she, having so many of her own, couldn’t think of a single thing that would make her abandon or discard one of her own children. “you’ll stay with us then.” it isn’t a question and you’re glad because how would you have answered? your mouth is dry but your eyes aren’t.
you sit in danny’s room. he isn’t home from school yet but he will be soon. katherine and george are upstairs making room for you. you feel like a burden, they assure you that you are not.
you’re waiting for danny, only he isn't who makes it home first. it’s cole. he walks in, tosses his bag down onto the bed, none the wiser that there’s another person in the room. his back faces you and he’s rifling through a drawer when he hears you hiccup. he turns around quickly. Sees you, crying in his brother's bed and immediately his brows are furrowed. “y/n?” he walks closer. the bed is near to the ground so he drops onto his knees. he’s close to you know but he’s made himself less intimidating. “y/n/n? hey.”
“hi Cole.”
“are you okay?”
“i’ve been better.”
cole doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push. instead he opens his laptop, logs into his netflix and puts on the favourite show you both discussed watching together. when the two of you are settled. him on the floor, face resting on the mattress, where you’re curled up in a blanket that belongs to his brother, he breaks the silence. “do you want me to get danny?”
“where is he?”
“he’s with erin at the school. i think they’re going over details for the production. but i can go get him if you need him. do you need him?”
you shake your head. as danny’s best friend you were the biggest ‘derin’ shipper there was. plus, cole was here. he made things okay. “no, no thanks. i don’t really want you to go anywhere if that’s okay?”
“that’s more than okay, but i will say, my bed is comfier.”
you smile for the first time in a bit, looking at the uncomfortable position he has himself in. “yeah? well, we should definitely watch this, over there then.”
“my thoughts exactly.” cole grabs the laptop, grabs you, still wrapped in the blanket he tells himself he’ll replace from the linen closet, and carries both over to his bed. you squeal a bit and bite back a real whimper when his hand touches what you know has to be a massive bruise, sitting you down.
you fall asleep, leaning against him. he pauses the show, closes his laptop, and promises to resume it when you’re awake to watch it with him. then he sends a threatening text to his brother, danny.
COLE: Y/n/n has had a rough day and is sleeping in our room
COLE: Wake her up and you’ll get hit
DANNY: is she okay??? ALSO since when do you call her y/n/n???
COLE: I’ll see you later
COLE: Tell Erin hi for me
DANNY: fuck off
george and katherine didn’t receive that same threatening text but when they peeked into the room to check on you and found you cuddled up against cole, snoring lightly, and looking peaceful they left you be. your room was ready and in the morning you moved into it. your clothes were dirty and katherine washed them for you but in the meantime… well it was her dresses or… or what you went with.
you knocked your fist against the door and cole opened it, shirtless.
“hey cole,” look at his face. just his face. only his face.
“hey y/n. What can i help you with?”
your hand flew to the back of your neck which you rubbed awkwardly. “can i, uh… would you mind if I borrowed a pair of jeans and a belt?” cole chuckled, then realised you were completely serious. then he gave you the jeans. then the belt. “need a shirt too?”
you laughed, cheeks stained pink. “i wouldn’t mind…”
he handed you the plain black one in his hand. “riding with me to school?”
“if i’ve got shotgun.”
“‘course.” he said, grinning.
you headed upstairs and got changed. the pants were big but with the belt, and them cuffed they fit alright. then, came the shirt. it fell mid thigh but once you tucked it in a bit it didn’t look too terrible. you brushed your hair, your teeth, and headed downstairs. george looked at you with wide eyes and you shrugged, “i don’t really like dresses?”
katherine sighed. “we’ll get you some clothes after school.”
“from the thrift store!” you amended.
she rolled her eyes but agreed anyway. then, you were sitting beside cole on the way to school, during the one class you shared, and at lunchtime. you weren’t ditching danny, just his time was split between you and erin now. they started dating. they were sweet, good for and to, each other.
you’d only been living with the walters for two days, but everything was great. until cole invited you to the lake house. two coolers had you feeling buzzed and when it was your first turn, playing ‘truth or dare’, you picked truth and ended up faced with a question you didn’t want to answer. so you turned, and pressed your lips to cole’s. his lips parted in surprise, but then he kissed you back, tongue slipping into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. his hands flew to cup your face, your eyes were shut, and you were feeling things. until someone whistled and another yelled: “get a room!”
next round, you were three coolers in and ballsy enough to pick dare. “i dare you to jump into the lake!”
you rolled your eyes. like that was difficult. sure, it was a bit chilly, but you’d been in the river days ago. rushing water compared to water the sun had beat down on all day was nothing. you grinned, and ran to the edge of the dock, canon-balling and sending water flying everywhere. when you surfaced you saw the asshole who wore cole’s jersey shaking water out of his hair like a dog. you grinned, and started to swim back over when you saw something that caused you to sober up quickly. the foundation and powder you had painted on top of the hand shaped bruise on your arm had worn off. gone. It was gone and fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck.
when you didn’t get out of the water immediately cole was curious. when your face reflected horror, he was concerned.
“you good?” you weren’t. he walked over to the edge and dipped his hand in. the water was freezing. “come on out, you’ll get sick.”
you shook your head, plastering a clearly fake smile on your face. “my immune system is really strong and i want to swim! i’ll be fine cole, gonna go that way.” you make a gesture with your head and begin to paddle in that general direction. away from the lakehouse, away from the people, away from the party. away from cole—or, you tried to get away from cole. he walked on the bank, steps matching your strokes as he followed you. “get out of the water, y/n.” you were still swimming, and now cole was having to duck under and climb over branches and bushes to continue following. now, you couldn’t even hear the people at the lake house.
“no thank you.”
“don’t be stubborn. this was—it was funny thirty minutes ago! It’s lost the charm. just get out, we’ll go back and…”
“i don’t want to go back.”
“then we’ll go home. would that make you happy? we can leave, we don't have to go back to school, i can take you home.”
“i want to stay in the water, cole.”
“y/n, just get out of the fucking lake. it’s not that hard! i don’t understand why you won’t—“
you’re in waist deep water and all of you is submerged until it isn’t. you stand up quickly. teats sting your eyes and emotion clogs your throat. “you don’t understand, huh?” your voice breaks, shatters, and cracks. “does this help? do you see why when i say i want to keep swimming, i mean it? do you see why i want to stay in the water cole?”
he sees something. he sees bruises on your arms. deep purple handprints put there by too big hands and with too much force—force that never should have been used on you. he’s blinking, his eyes are seeing but his mind isn’t thinking, not fast enough.
“do you see?!” you’re shouting now, sobbing too. “because the makeup washed off and now you can see it. bow everyone can. everyone will see and then they’ll report it and i’ll end up in the system in an equally shitty situation! cole,” another wave of sobs interrupts, “cole don’t make me get out of the water.” he doesn’t, he climbs in with you. water soaks his boots, the bottoms of his jeans, you hear it slosh as he takes large steps and closes the distance between you both. “y/n/n.”
“what?” it’s a sob, a plea.
“we’re going to get out of the lake. i’m going to walk you through the woods, out to the road and then i’m going to go get my truck. i’ll be ten minutes tops. i’ll grab my hoodie too.”
“it’s… it’s back on the chair.”
“the red one, i know.”
“okay…”
cole keeps his word, but after five minutes you hear his truck. it stops, he hops out. he sets the hoodie on top of you and you shimmy into it. “No one will see, no one you don’t want to know, will know. but y/n, you will never go back there, okay? not to that house, not ever, because if you go, i’m following, and the things i do, most authorities will not agree with.”
“i don’t ever want to go back there.”
“you won’t ever have to.”
“thank you.”
“don’t thank me for helping you with something that never should’ve happened. we’ll get you some ice as soon as we’re home.” cole cranks the heat up and angles the fans to point your way.
he opens your door for you and walks closely behind you. no one else is home—katherine and george both working and the others at school. cole raids the freezer for anything remotely icey and heads up to your room. he makes a pit-stop to grab his laptop and some snacks from a drawer none of his brothers would ever know about. he steals the blanket you like off of danny’s bed too—the soft one with the blue plaid.
you both watch the show, he looks concerned when you press the frozen peas to your side too. you lift your shirt, show him the damage and he freezes. “ugly, huh?”
“nothing about you has ever been ugly, y/n/n but jesus, maybe we should go to a hospital.”
“flattery will get you everywhere cole but there’s no denying i looked like van gogh fucked up starry night—and no hospital. they’d like immediately call someone. plus i think they’re just bruised and not broken so that’s good.”
“i’m sorry that this happened to you.”
“oh don’t do that. i hate when people apologise for things that aren’t their fault.”
“can i apologise for danny, then? for him not realising what was happening sooner?” cole asked. people weren’t perfect, you realised that then, cole having said the first thing that genuinely upset you. this was no one’s fault. No one but your scum of the earth parent’s.
“no. danny didn’t do anything wrong. i didn’t want him to know and usually i’m good at hiding these things.” a bitter laugh, and: “usually.”
“i blame the alcohol, but, i guess it’s nice that you know.”
“i’m glad i know.”
and he is. he carries your bag, your books, even goes thrifting with you and katherine. “i like this one,” he’d said, holding up a shirt that barely had any fabric to it. you rolled your eyes for the fiftieth time and picked out a baggy graphic tee shirt instead.
at school he walks you to and from your classes. he sits with you at lunch and helps you come up with excuses—none so awesome that they work without the grin and charm he lays on your pe teacher.
weeks later, your bruises were healed, and to the blind eye, the only indication you’d been abused was the occasional flinching. cole tended to call out his moves before he made them, especially if you weren’t sure exactly where he was. your arguments–few and far between, seriously, the only thing you’d argued about so far was where you went for lunch, were had with calm voices and distance between the two of you. cole was perfect. he never caught you off guard, he was just always there.
wouls see you getting anxious and move closer. “i’m going to hold your hand,” he’d whisper. when you needed someone to talk to it was always him because he was always there.
then, one night, the two of you were sitting on that same blue plaid blanket. the one you loved–the one cole had paid danny $40 for. you were both staring up at the same stars, both wondering the same thing: when had you become so close? you weren’t sure if there was a turning point, a particular defining moment, but cole had taken danny’s place in your heart as ‘best friend’. cole had done that and more. he was more to you than that. he baked your favourite pastry, would go just about anywhere with you, and he made you smile. he made you feel safe. he had told no one your secret–but katherine and george had a clue, enough of one that they welcomed you with open arms and seldomly raised their voices. enough of one, that for that first few weeks, the ice was always restocked in the freezer.
they had an idea.
but cole knew. knew everything. knew and made you feel okay in spite of everything. he knew and still.. still looked at you like… like that. cole, he leaned in closer. you waited and listened. “i’m going to kiss you. because i want to. because i love you how you deserve to be loved. and not because of some truth or dare game.
“it wasn’t bad though, right? because i thought it was a pretty good ki–”
cole walter kept his word. he kissed you, and sure, the kiss at the lake house was good. this one was just better.
#cole walter x reader#cole walter#cole walter x y/n#cole walter x you#mlwtwb#mlwtwb imagines#cole walter imagines#my life with the walter boys#danny walter#alex walter
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*.⊹˚ SYLUS | midnight accident
── ◜sylus x fem!reader — mini one shot: 1.2k words◜sylus shows up at her door during the night after an accident on his motorcycle an : so, this is my first time writing in a while. I've been nervous about writing about lads characters so i decided post short stuff for a while. feel free to give me any feedback :) ★ masterlist here
It was past midnight as she watched TV. She couldn't sleep, she had tried everything she had found on the internet and nothing seemed to work. She just couldn't sleep.
Frustrated, she decided to have a little marathon of her favorite movies, maybe that would help, it had worked more than once. It was on the third movie of the night that something happened.
A knock on the door brought her out of her little bubble. She paused the movie and looked at the clock on the wall in front of her, it was after two of the night. Why would someone be there at 2am?
Her heart began to beat too hard, a million things began to go through her mind. She was fine, she knew how to defend herself and wouldn't hesitate to do so. A weapon, Sylus had given her a weapon, but it was in her room. If she ran and looked for it she could… Another knock.
She didn't have time, so she just walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. Her body completely relaxed when she saw who was behind the door. It was Sylus… But he looked different.
She quickly opened the door, her chest heaving as she noticed the light drops of blood on his lip. "What happened?" She moved closer to him, her trembling hands reaching out to wrap around him, but he stepped back and shook his head.
It was fine, he was fine. He didn't need help because he felt like it would make her worry more than she should. "I'm fine… I had an accident on my motorcycle but I'm fine."
She gasped in surprise. It was amazing how easily Sylus could downplay anything that happened. "Come in." She stepped aside so he could come in. She had noticed that he wasn't walking as normally, and the way he approached the couch and dropped down after.
She stayed silent for a few seconds after closing the door behind her. There was something in her stomach that made her feel… bad, she hated that feeling. She was worried, she had never felt that concern for anyone else.
"Are you okay?" She asked once more. She approached him with quick but unsure steps. She took a seat next to Sylus, her nervous eyes fixed on him. He had one of his hands on his abdomen, but she wasn't sure what happened. He was probably hurt.
"I'm fine." Sylus sighed and let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling, seeming to be thinking about something in particular or…
"Take off your jacket, I'll go get the first aid kit." The girl got up from the sofa in a hurry, ready to go to the bathroom where she had bandages, alcohol and…
Sylus' long fingers wrapped around her wrist, she felt a gentle tug that made her take a couple of steps back and stumble, falling onto the couch again. She stirred in confusion and looked at him, her brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine." He repeated once more, his gaze soft, he always saw her that way even when she was angry or yelling. "I came here to see you."
"But your wounds…" Her words hung in the air. She reached out her hand and her fingers wiped away the drops of blood on his lip and… There was nothing, no wounds. "How…"
It wasn't the first time Sylus seemed to heal magically. She knew there was a logical explanation behind it, but it always happened the same: he ended up hurt, made her feel worried and suddenly he was fine.
She ran her fingers over the wound on his cheek and… blood. She frowned in confusion waiting for an explanation but he just stayed silent. "Wait here."
Sylus let out a frustrated groan. He was fine, it always happened when he had an accident. She worried too much…
When she returned she ignored all of Sylus' complaints and his attempts to prevent her from healing his wounds. After a few minutes, she felt calmer when at least cleaned his wound. She checked every part of his face and every visible part of his body to make sure he was okay.
"You need to stop doing things that put yourself in danger," she muttered, somewhat annoyed. She turned to put what she had used aside and made a mental note to throw it away later.
"Why? Would you care if something happened to me?" Sylus scoffed. When she turned back, he wrapped one of his arms around her hip, closing the distance between them. "Last week you said you didn't care if I killed myself on that stupid bike," he repeated the exact words she had used.
Sylus' face was… maybe too close to hers. She didn't really understand the dynamics of their relationship, they weren't a couple but she didn't want to date anyone else either… She didn't want anyone else to touch her, she didn't want anyone else to kiss her lips.
"Of course I don't care," she lied. Sylus knew it, he had seen it in her gaze and in the way her nervous eyes look at his wounds. "Why hasn't the wound on your cheek healed?" she asked, running her fingertips over the small scratches there.
"Sometimes wounds take longer to heal," he murmured. His large hand covered hers that was touching his cheek so carefully. It was a lie.
She was still too lost in watching his face, but Sylus' eyes were watching her. There was so much she wasn't ready to know and a part of him felt guilty. But it was to protect her, he would feel worse if he put her in danger because of him.
"Why alwa…" His words hung in the air as he leaned down to press his lips against hers.
She wanted to stop him, have a big talk with him about how he should stop putting himself in danger and worrying her every time… but she didn't stop him. Sylus' lips felt too good on hers, the way he kissed her softly, but at the same time like he was hungry for more. One of his arms slid up to her hip, pushing her further against him, she could feel him adjusting her beneath him as he gently pushed her back down.
"Wait." The kiss was interrupted by her, her breathing was labored and she could feel her whole face burning. "Are you okay? I… are you sure you're okay?" Her trembling fingers slid along the leather of his jacket. She was afraid she would hurt him somehow.
"Stop worrying about me, doll. I'm fine," he repeated for maybe the fifth time. He pressed his lips against her neck in an attempt to distract her.
She let out the air from her lungs, she was still tense because of what had happened. Sylus was right, she worried too much and it was starting to affect her. "Just promise that you'll take better care of yourself."
He looked at her for long seconds, there was something in his gaze that she was sure she hadn't seen before. He always looked at her the same way… like she was the most precious thing in the world. "I promise."
He nodded, pressing his lips against hers again, feeling her body relax in his arms. He knew his words had reassured her at least for the moment.
Although he still didn't know why his own wound hadn't healed.
#love and deepspace#sylus#lnds#lads#sylus x you#sylus x reader#sylus x female reader#sylus love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace sylus x reader#lads x reader#lnds x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace one shot#sylus fluff#xavier#rafayel#zayne#lnds sylus#lnds xavier#lnds rafayel#lnds zayne#lads rafayel#lads xavier#lads zayne#lads sylus#love and deepspace x reader
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Hi there.
Maybe a newt x f reader where reader its a healer ( doctor) . reader was a friend of theseus and they were working on a case from the Ministry of magic. Thank you so much ❤️
kiss it better

newt scamander x reader
fluff (making out)
cw: unedited, blood, a lil bit of ~suggestiveness~/(okay a lot a bit of suggestiveness i write like a romance novelist sometimes lol sorry not sorry), making out, newt is ripped and hot as hell
summary: newt gets injured and theseus knows the perfect person to kiss it better.
notes: thank you so much for the request love!!! i wasn’t sure exactly what you were looking for with this one so i just used my imagination so i do hope you like it. feel free to request something more if you don’t though :))
16+ please!!
“theseus, this is ridiculous, let go of me.”
it was a small cut, just a little one. a small mishap with alone of his creatures, that was all. such a tiny little ailment.
“it is bleeding profusely and goes all the way across your stomach, newt!” theseus exclaimed, pulling his brothers coat sleeve like a child dragging their parents through a candy store. “she’s very nice, you know that.”
oh, newt knew you were nice— that was the problem. you were so nice, so pretty, so incredibly everything that newt could hardly bare it. years and years of friendship with you and he could hardly even contain his joy at the sound of your laugh, at the mere sight of you. it made it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to exist when all he could focus on was you.
“you’re working a case, theseus,” newt sighed, allowing his brother to pull him up the stairs to your apartment. “she’s probably reviewing files or something, it would be rude to interrupt her work.”
but the scamander brothers were already outside your door, and theseus was already knocking. before newt could brace himself for the wave of love sickness that would inevitably hit him the second he saw you, the door swung open and there you were; nice, pretty, perfect.
“hi newt, theseus,” you greeted, chest heaving (you may have ran across the apartment the second you’d heard their voices coming down the hall) “what can i— oh merlin’s beard.”
newt looked down, unsurprised to see the blood had seeped through his white shirt. he gave you a lopsided smile and you rolled your eyes, a pitiful attempt to avoid eye contact with the boyish man before you.
“come inside.”
theseus all but shoved newt inside, already straightening out his suit and brushing the left over floo powder off of his shirt. he looked up to you and his brother, unphased by the confused look on your faces.
“well, i best be off.”
you gawked at him. “your— your not going to stay?” you asked. he shook his head. “theseus! your brother is injured and you’re leaving?”
“we have a case!”
“it’s really okay,” newt said, bashfully, suddenly reminding you of the reason they were there.
scoffing, you turned back to newt, waving your friend off. “workaholic,” you murdered as you began searching for your emergency bandage kit.
and with that, theseus shut the door— but not before sending his brother a mischievous wink. newt felt a shiver down his spine.
sneaky bastard.
you finally found the small red box, pulling it open and rifling through it for a disinfectant and some gaws, as well as a mini suture kit.
glancing up at newt through your eyelashes, you hummed expectantly. “shirt off,” you ordered, some foreign sort of confidence surging through you.
newt swore all the brain cells left his mind. “pardon?” he chocked, suddenly not too concerned with his injuries.
“i can’t exactly fix you through the shirt. now c’mon, we don’t have all day,” you explained.
quickly, newt obeyed, shedding his baggy coat and undoing the bloodied buttons. very quickly, he felt exposed, but the bashful look on your face made him feel more smug than anything.
you had never seen newt shirtless before now, but my lord, did you wish the sight to be engraved in your mind till the day you died. you could see the viens that traveled up his tanned arms, and as shocked to see his biceps had been rather toned under that jacket all this time. his freckles spanned all down his chest and arms as well, dancing around the thin scars across him.
for a man so cute and clever, he was sure an enthralling sight to see.
clearing your throat, you finally looked down at the wound intently, relieved to see it didn’t look like too hard of a fix. with some shallow sutures and cleaning, he’d be better in no time.
“not too bad,” you murmured without thinking, entire body going cold at the implication. shit. the clever smile on newts face grew. “i— i meant the cut isn’t too bad, doesn’t look, y’know, infected.”
“good,” newt agreed, leaning back on his arms. his abdomen tensed at the movement and he hissed at the pain. “ouch.”
before you could look at him too closely, or think too much apparently, you knealt down infront of him. however, as he opened his legs to allow you space between them, you realized the predicament you’d put yourself in.
holy fucking shit.
you looked up hesitantly, feeling your heart race at the way newt looked down at you; nervous and kind, like he was just as surprised by your position as you were.
“this might sting a little,” you announced, trying to redirect his (and yours) attention back to the real reason you were on your knees.
carefully, you wiped the cotton pad across the cut, cleaning up the blood around the wound. newt hissed again, hands gripping the blanket laid across your couch. you had to will yourself to keep your eyes on the wound.
“almost done,” you reassured, finally looking up to see newts eyes screwed shut in pain. quickly, you dabbed at the far end of the wound, bringing your hands down quickly. “all done.”
newt sighed in relief, swallowing roughly. he glanced down to his stomach, feeling his head buzz as you looked back up at him. “whatcha thinking, doc?” he teased.
you could’ve died at the irony. you could not tell him what you were thinking right now.
“well, it’ll only need a few stitches at the edges there on the left, but it should be fine otherwise. just some bandages and you’ll be good,” you answered.
“no magic?” he asked.
“sadly, my regulations to do these sorts of healing charms only spans as far as britain,” you replied. “i’m working on getting the papers here in the states, but for now, just my handy work.”
newt smiled, another grin which made you weak in the knees. “your handy work is quite good.”
you ignored the heat in your face from the praise as you began you sutures. you felt newt shiver under your hands as they fluttered across his stomach, tracing the stitches and looking for any imperfections. finally satisfied with the stitching, you taped some bandages across them, and stood up once you were done. three easy steps, and nothing went wrong—
as you took a step back, you stumbled over the edge of your rug, fumbling backwards as you tried to regain your balance. before you realized what had happened, you felt newts hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you forward.
and forward was onto his lap.
you had spoken too soon.
you caught yourself with a tight grip on his bare shoulders, the skin soft and hot under your hands. your face was barely an inch from his, and your eyes met his in a brief moment of panic.
“s-sorry, i just didn’t want you to hit your head on the coffee table,” newt whispered, eyes darting form your eyes to your lips and back again nervously. he seemed very regretful of his action at first, but he didn’t budge to move you off of him, hands gripping the flesh around your hips.
“t-thank you,” you stammered, gathering all your strength not to squirm in his arms, your heart beating faster than your blood could pump.
newts eyes found yours again, thumbs making small circles in your hip bone. “have i ever told you that you’re very pretty?” the low rasp of his voice could’ve made you faint on any ordinary day, but given that you were practically straddling him, nothing could’ve made you more lightheaded. “especially up so close.”
“newt,” you whispered.
“what, love?”
“please kiss me.”
newt closed the gap without a second thought, kissing you gently. his lips were soft, but needy, pulling away and coming back for more over and over and over again. his hands traveled from your hips all the way up to your head, resting on your jaw. you moved your hands up his neck, playing with the curls on the nape.
you whined as he pulled away entirely, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. “why’d you stop?”
“isn’t there a rule about strenuous activities post surgery?” he teased, laughing as he pressed another kiss to your lips briefly; he had waited too long to do this and he didn’t wanna stop now. “making out seems pretty strenuous to me.”
“i’ll kiss it better.”
#newt scamander x reader#newt scamander#fanfic#fantastic beasts#fantastic beasts and where to find them#fbawtft#newt scamander x y/n#newt scamander x you#newt scamander fluff#fluff#newt scamander imagine
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Can I request a last of imagine with Ellie's sibling going on a run and getting hurt and coking back to camp traumatised and making Ellie concerned?
Can’t Undo It | Ellie Williams x sibling!reader
Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader (platonic, sibling bond)
Type of fic: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Whump
Warnings: Injury, trauma response (panic, trembling), mild body horror (injury), survivor’s guilt, blood, heavy theme
Summary: A morning run goes sideways, leaving you injured and shaken. When you make it back to Jackson, Ellie realizes just how close she came to losing you.
❗️IMPORTANT❗️: So basically Tumblr ain’t letting me write on my own anymore so I’m only avaible to answer asks so if someone would be so kind and like once a week write smth so I could write a fanfic on my own, I’d appriciate it. Maybe just smth like “free ask” or smth like that, it doesn’t have to be anything big, but pls help me out with this. Thank you, cariños
——————————
It was supposed to be routine.
An easy run through a forgotten town an hour south of Jackson—small, broken-down houses, the kind with already-looted drawers and faded family photos on the walls. You’d done a hundred of these. With Ellie. Without her. It didn’t matter.
Except this time, it did.
The sky had turned a soft gray by the time the group returned to the gates of Jackson. Three of you had left. Only two came back together.
And you were barely standing.
The guards radioed ahead before you even stepped through, one of them running for help. Blood soaked your pant leg from the gash across your thigh, but it wasn’t just the limp or the way you clutched your arm like it might fall off that scared them. It was your face. Blank. Pale. Haunted.
Ellie was already outside by the time they opened the gates.
She saw you and froze.
“Shit,” she breathed, and then she was moving. “Hey! Hey, what the fuck happened?”
Her voice cut through the fog in your head, but only barely. You wanted to answer. You really did. But all you could manage was a shake of the head, slow and uncertain, before your knees gave out and the ground rushed up to meet you.
Ellie caught you just before you hit the dirt.
“Hey—no, no, no—fuck,” she muttered, kneeling down beside you. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
She didn’t ask questions right away. Just helped you up, arm over her shoulders, and half-carried you back toward your shared place. You barely remembered the walk. Just the pain pulsing behind your eyes and the iron tang of dried blood clinging to your fingertips.
Once inside, Ellie helped you out of your soaked jacket, eased you down onto the couch, and disappeared into the bathroom for the med kit. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
You were staring blankly at your hands when she returned.
“You’re shaking,” she said gently, crouching down in front of you. “Can I clean you up?”
She knew better than not to ask a person in this state for a premission.
You nodded.
She started with the leg, wincing a little as she peeled away your torn pants. The cut was deep—ugly—but clean. Not infected. “What did this?” she asked under her breath.
“Barbed wire,” you said hoarsely. “Ran from a pack of infected. Didn’t see the fence until I was already through it.”
Ellie stilled.
“You were alone?”
“No. I wasn’t supposed to be.”
Something in your voice cracked.
Ellie’s hands paused on your leg, but she didn’t say anything.
“Ben didn’t make it.”
There it was. The part that wouldn’t stop replaying in your mind.
“We got separated in one of the houses. I thought he was right behind me.” Your voice wavered. “There were too many. I couldn’t get back in. I tried.”
Ellie’s jaw tightened. She wrapped the gauze around your thigh with quiet care.
“I should’ve gone back.”
“You would’ve died.”
You swallowed hard. “There were kids in that house.”
Ellie looked away sharply. “Jesus…”
“I don’t know if they were infected yet. I didn’t check. I just heard screaming. And then I ran.”
Your words started to trip over themselves, the panic rising like a wave. “I should’ve checked. I should’ve gone back. I should’ve done something. Anything.”
Ellie set the bandages aside and moved closer, placing her hands on your arms—firm, grounding. “Hey. Look at me.”
You did, reluctantly.
“You came back. You’re hurt, you’re scared, but you came back. That’s all I care about right now.”
“But they—”
“I know.” Her voice dropped. “I know, and I’m sorry. I wish I could make it right. But the world’s fucked. All we can do is hold onto the people we’ve got.”
You blinked fast, your throat aching. “You’re not mad at me?”
Ellie let out a shaky breath. “Mad? I thought I was gonna lose you today.”
The weight of that settled between you both, heavy and real. Then Ellie moved, slowly, and wrapped her arms around you.
Not tight. Not overwhelming. Just enough.
You clung to her like you might fall apart again.
“You’re here,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters.”
And in that moment, you believed her.
Even if the guilt lingered, even if the noise in your head didn’t quiet right away, her voice—the certainty in it—was enough to hold you together for one more night.
#request#imagine#tlou 2#tlou game#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams platonic#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou
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Hey could you please write something where Eric Draven(2024) is best friends with the reader and gets hurt while trying to confront the people who killed Shelley. His healing stops so he goes to his best friend for help and starts crying about everything...
A hurt/comfort basically. Please keep it PLATONIC. Thank you 💜
Pairing: Eric Draven x reader
Genre/Warnings: reader is best friends with Eric, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, blood, injury, stab/knife wounds, bullet holes, needles, stitching of wounds, pain mention, Eric whimpers, Eric gets a little sad and guilty about Shelly, kinda proofread
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It's about half past 3am when a heavy, slightly frantic knocking was heard from the front door of your apartment. You got up, feeling lethargic and off-balance. You yanked an oversized t-shirt from your laundry pile and shucked it over your sleep tank top as you made your way to the doorway. As you approached your front door you had an urge to check out the peephole but decided to open the door without caution.
"Oh thank god," A voice wheezed out.
Heavy boots fell forward and knocked into you, smearing something wet against your arm as they grabbed it.
The first emotion that popped up was disgust and then horror as you backed away and looked at the figure that had stumbled their way into your apartment.
It was Eric Draven. A long-time friend of yours. He was hunched over and bloody. A long, black trenchcoat hung from Eric's shoulders and he lacked a shirt, showing stab wounds and bullet holes, those of which you didn't know whether or not lack bullets. Wounds tore through his tattoos and you couldn't help what Eric was up to since he'd been in rehab, as your two's connection had faltered slightly over the years.
"Eric!" You gasped. "What the hell?!"
In a flurry of movements, you slammed your front door closed and locked both your doorlock and the deadbolt. You moved under Eric's arm and practically dragged his heavy body to your bathroom, leaving bloody footprints behind. It was hard, due to Eric's taller stature and the fact he was barely holding himself up. Soon enough, you plopped the tall man on your toilet seat and leaned down to dig through your lower sink cabinet for your first aid kit. Upon standing back up and facing your friend you could see that he had shed his trenchcoat and was clenching at his side, blood pouring from between his fingers.
From the cabinet behind you and diagonally across from Eric, you grabbed a wash cloth. You wet it and got to work wiping down the injured man, he tensed and whimpered as the rough cloth touched the edges of wounds.
"Eric, what the hell?" You scolded out of mostly concern. "You go to rehab to get better and then you show up at my door all bloody and shit. Like, what happened?!"
" 'm sorry," Eric gave a small cry as you wiped blood away from a particularly large stab wound. "I just. I met a girl and we got out."
"And then what? Decided to go and get yourself killed??" You asked, looking up at Eric.
He avoided eye contact.
"I loved her," Eric mumbled somberly. "And she's dead now."
You raised your eyebrows, urging him to further explain.
"She's dead. It's my fault. I couldn't protect her," Eric seemed to be avoiding giving you details. "I went after the people that killed her and now.."
Eric trailed off and you sighed.
You couldn't believe Eric escaped from rehab and blamed himself for the death of a girl he barely knew. Obviously, the girl was apart of something if someone came after her after they found out she escaped from rehab. You couldn't believe Eric got himself into the middle of that. You were disappointed in him, but happy that he found someone to passionately love, even if that love ended in turmoil.
You threw the cloth into your sink and fished out another from your cabinet. You soaked the new washrag in rubbing alcohol. You dug through your first aid kit for a stitching needle. Once found, you got your stitching thread through the eye and situated. You wiped down the needle with the alcohol-soaked rag.
You looked up at Eric again, "Do you know if you still have bullets in the holes?"
Eric shook his head, "No. They fell out."
"Fell out?" You asked, bewildered.
Eric nodded, wincing at the movement.
You couldn't wrap your head around the possibility of bullets just falling out of wounds. You shook your head, willing away confused and distracted thoughts.
"I have to stitch you up now," You warned your friend.
Eric nodded and gripped onto his pant leg to prepare for the pain.
With slow, precise movements, you dug the surgical needle into Eric's skin. Eric whimpered as you sewed up the knife wound at his side. You decided to start with the worst first and slowly made your way around Eric's abdomen. The bathroom was silent beside Eric's pained whimpers and cries. You felt sorry for him but stitching up your friend was necessary or else he'd bleed out on the tile floor.
Before long you were done. Eric looked pained, pale, and sweaty. He heaved out a breath, releasing his iron grip on his black jeans.
You cleaned up silently. You wrapped up the needle you used and filling the bathroom sink with steaming hot water to soak the ruined washrags in. You stood and fiddled your fingers in front of Eric, thinking of things to say.
"I can..," You trailed off before speaking again. "I can soak your jacket in the tub, if you'd like."
Eric hesitated.
"I'll have it clean by late morning tomorrow," You promised.
"Okay," Eric accepted.
You turned your tub's water, testing it until it matched your body temperature. You plugged the drain and watched the tub fill. You waited until the water was about halfway up the side before submerging the bloody trenchcoat into the water. You let the water fill up a bit more before cutting the water off. You pressed the jacket down more, making sure every part was under the water.
"Thank you," Eric said, watching you as you walked around him and dried your hands on a hand rag, leaving behind a light red stain.
"You're welcome," You replied. "Now, let's get you to bed."
You helped Eric up, urging him to be slow. You helped him hobble to your bed. You helped him lay down, propping up a pillow behind his head and covering him with your blankets. You turned to leave but a hand grabbed your own.
"Are you going to stay with me?" Eric asked, his eyes watery.
"Yes," You nodded. "I'll stay with you. But I'll be right back. I'm getting you something to drink."
Eric nodded and let your hand go.
After a few heartbeats, you came back into your bedroom with a blue raspberry pedialyte with a bendy straw in it. You held it up to Eric's mouth urging him to drink before putting it down on the nightstand. You turned off the lamp on the nightstand, the only light in the room. You crawled up the bed to occupy the other side against your bedroom wall.
Just as you got comfortable, you felt a hand grab your own. It was cold.
"Thank you," Eric mumbled, already sounding half asleep.
"Goodnight Eric," You replied, urging him to sleep.
Eric was silent for a moment, "Goodnight."
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A/N: Requests for Mr. Draven are still open! If you have any ideas that you'd like for me to write then go ahead and drop them in my askboz!!
#the crow#the crow 2024#eric draven#bill skarsgård#the crow x reader#the crow imagines#eric draven x reader#eric draven imagines#bill skarsgård x reader#bill skarsgård imagines
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Word with friends 6-2
Wonderful word game by @hedwigoprah
Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing!
This Week's word is :: Avarice (noun)
1. Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth
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Wearing loose fitting pajama pants Zalan was lounging across three cushions of the couch in the baggiest shirt he owned and frowning. He was looking at the tv but wasn’t paying any attention to whatever show was on. He only had something on to kill time anyway, really he was just bored and waiting for—
The door swung open and Zalan immediately perked up, sitting up to look over the couch back at Harding, ready to tease her for taking so long when he caught sight of her.
“Lace!” Harding was standing there panting, slamming the door shut behind her. A dark red bruise was already blooming over her eye and cheek, her lip was split, there was a cut on her forehead still bleeding. Zalan was hopping over the back of the couch and standing in front of her before she could speak. Gently he held her face examining the damage.
“Daathrata’s goons got me, but that’s not important what’s important is he sent me with a message.” She was speaking in a rush but Zalan was only half listening, his fingertips brushing against her skin, concern for her evident on his face.
“Which goons did this?” He was tilting her chin up trying to decide how bad the bruising was. Harding swatted his hands away,
“Zalan! You aren’t listening to me, he was sending a message. He knows who we are, he called you out by name, not by your crow codeword but your full name. That means he knows where we live, everything about you.” She insisted, trying to get through his thick head but he was gently corralling her towards the little kitchen area and turning away only long enough to pull out a first aid kit from under the sink.
“I can worry about how much danger we’re in after I smash someone’s face in for doing this to you.” He didn’t growl the words but he wanted to. Instead he pulled out a wipe to dab at the cut still oozing blood on her forehead. Softly he brushed away some stray hairs; there were more flyaways than normal, parts of her braids had hair sticking out at funny angles like they’d been yanked on and there were strands loose dangling around her face.
“Viago will-“ she’d started at seeing the way his eyes narrowed, she was always too perceptive, always able to know what he was thinking too well.
“Tell me which underlings Lace, please.” He interrupted, his thumb rubbing under her uninjured eye, angry face softening for a moment as he leaned closer to her. She let out a sigh that he was sure was partially exasperated but there was some relief in it too with the way she leaned into it briefly.
“It was the two bouncers for that stupid strip club- The Jewel of Antiva.” She grumbled, pulling Zalan’s hand away and glaring up at him. “But if you just go over there and kill them you know Viago will be pissed. The Crows have a very tenuous truce with the Daathrata family, if we go after them directly it could be all out war.” She spoke slowly and seriously like she was trying to make him see reason but Zalan didn’t care. He knew Viago would kill him if he waltzed in and shot them but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make it look like an accident. Or a robbery gone wrong. Or a hundred other ways Zalan could hide the deaths while making sure they suffered for touching Lace Harding.
“Discreet is my middle name, Lace.” He teased, putting a small bandage over the worst of the cuts while she rolled her eyes at him.
//
It was almost dark by the time Zalan had gotten both him and Harding moved to a new apartment. Viago hadn’t been happy but they had been wondering for some time now when the other shoe would drop after the data one of their more mysterious contracts asked for had ended up being used in a move against the Daathrata’s empire. Zalan still maintained that the crows had no idea when he got the info that it would be used against the Butcher’s newer mob enterprise so it wasn’t his fault. But despite being upset at him Viago still set them up with a new apartment in a different part of town under some new name.
As soon as they were settled in enough and Harding had been patched up Zalan changed into his gear. Lace followed him around trying to talk him down but he was determined. If they wanted to send him a message they wouldn’t be doing it through Harding again.
“Fine then.” She finally said before grabbing at her own gear from the bags scattered around their bedroom. But Zalan gently pulled her away from the bags,
“You are hurt and I’m only going to kill a few guys, I shouldn’t need you tracking ten locations and covering me. I should be in and out and be back before dawn.” He joked, stepping close and cradling her face in his hands. “I love you and I won’t let them get away with hurting you like this.”
She grumbled at him but yanked him in for a kiss which Zalan returned eagerly before stepping away. He promised Harding he’d be back before sunrise and by the blood that would soon cover his hands come dawn he would keep that promise.
//
The shadows were thick around the downtown strip club. People; loud people, drunk people, people looking for good times milled around the streets, the alleyways clogged with rushing bodies. The sights and sounds of the busy high tech city of Treviso was usually like white noise to Zalan- a calming drone, but tonight it was something to be filtered out, ignored. Tonight he was on the hunt.
In an alley just off one side of the building the crow was positioned up high; not fully on the rooftops but high enough for him to have a vantage point. He was fully decked out in his tactical gear and crouched on someone’s fire escape. There he waited. Silent as falling snow. The noise dipped and grew as time ticked by, But after several hours his targets turned into the alley. They were escorting one of their showgirls to the parking lot around back, sniping quietly at the girl.
The moment they were far enough down the alley they wouldn’t be easily noticed from the road he dropped down. Crashing onto the shoulders of one of the big quanri he used his momentum to shove the bouncer to the ground, smashing the larger man’s face into the pavement. There was a curse from his other side and Zalan swiveled on his heels, lunging for the other guard before he could draw a gun. Knocking the guard over he scrambled onto his back, slipping the steel wire of the garrote around the qunari’s neck and yanked.
The girl had made some startled gasp but wasn’t screaming yet and Zalan spared her a glance while the man under him struggled.
“Get out of here. Don’t turn back. Leave before I change my mind.” He snapped, voice strained from the effort. The girl was pale but she nodded and scurried off. Zalan turned back to the Qunari on the ground and reeled the wire back around his hand again, ignoring the angry gurgles coming from the man, stepping on one of his flailing hands, pinning it to the pavement. Leaning back to put more pressure he could feel the panic through the spasming muscles of the man but just as he was about to reel in another length of wire he was grabbed from behind.
The other bouncer hadn’t stayed down and yanked Zalan by the back of his shirt. The crow cursed and fumbled with the piano wire wrapped around his hands. He could feel the steel bite into his skin through his gloves but he could also feel how much tension that had put on the bodyguard on the ground too. The gurgles were cut off as the force pulled the sharpened wire into the man’s neck cutting it open. Blood spilled onto the concrete and the crow hastily slipped one hand out of the wire, that end falling to the ground and sliding through the wound, cutting deeper.
The bouncer threw Zalan back against a wall. The air wheezed out of him at the impact and the Qunari growled, stalking towards him, nose broken.
“What do we have here- a little crow? Aren’t you too far from your cage?” He taunted, grabbing for Zalan. The assassin ducked out of reach and threw himself past the muscular qunari tossing out a hidden knife. It embedded into the bouncer’s thigh. With a curse the bouncer tried to throw a punch at Zalan who nimbly dodged out of the way.
“Are you here for revenge? For your little dwarf whore? Did she bruise up prettily?” The big man jeered, laughing cruelly at the crow. Zalan whipped his head to he qunari, caution thrown to the wind he leapt at the man, clinging to his back and kicking the knife handle to dig it deeper into the man’s flesh. The bouncer punched at Zalan’s head, connecting several times before the crow dug another small dagger into the meat of his shoulder. He desperately wished in that moment he’d brought his poison tipped knives but he’d told Lace he wouldn’t make it obvious who killed them. He was regretting that choice now as he bouncer growled in pain and slammed his back against the brick of the wall. Zalan grunted at the pain and air whooshing out of him again. He managed to get his feet back under him as he slid down the wall having been dislodged from the man’s back and stood on shaky legs.
“You brought this upon yourself little crow. Your own avarice, your greed, doomed you both. You’ll regret your actions then and now. If you’d just stayed out of the Butcher’s business you wouldn’t need to worry about what we’ll do to her next time.” The big man grinned, a vile thing, and punched at Zalan. Rage helped numb the pain and he took the hit then slid in close to the qunari’s body, kneeing him in the stomach and grabbing onto his neck when he bent over in pain. Grinding his teeth Zalan threw himself into a full body twist, rotating himself until he heard the ugly snap of the man’s neck and felt him go limp and released him letting him fall to the ground.
Breathing hard and with the pain starting to sink in he sneered at the two bodies, retrieving his knives and wire from where they lay.
“I regret nothing. Except not murdering you faster.” He grumbled, pouring lighter fluid over the two men. He drug the two further into the alley and limped back a little ways, tossing the match onto the pile, setting it ablaze. He’d have to get out of there quickly now and he huffed a breath, knowing the bruises would slow him down.
He turned to start his climb back up the fire escape when a headlight flashed over him and the rev of an engine made him glance to the opening of the tiny street. A motorcycle sat there and when the rider flipped up their visor Ilene’s face greeted him.
“Get on the bike if you know what’s good for you.” She called and with a resigned sigh he ignored the pain and jogged over to her, climbing on behind her despite the ever present undercurrent of dread that always settled in the pit of his gut when he rode.
“Who told you?” He grumbled, gripping her middle and praying to everything that she wouldn’t decide to just kick him off the moving bike somewhere at top speed later.
“Harding called and told me you were being an idiot again.” She yelled the words over her shoulder and he tried to ignore the fact there wasn’t a helmet to put on as she gunned it down the road, the speed making his insides drop and his stomach flip. Of course Harding had. At the moment he was grateful not to have to limp his way back but he also knew the other de Riva was going to give him hell when they got back. But he still told himself it was worth it as they sped at incredibly high speeds far away from the fire in that lonely little alley.
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It’s a little on the late side but I’ll go ahead and gently tag some people (who’ve probably already done theirs but just in case you haven’t) @pixiedurango @davrinsleftpectoral @chaosherald @annfirestar @shadowcrow @falcatas @thedissonantverses
@kabsey I borrowed your Rook for just a second, she’s too cool and should definitely still smack Zalan (also let me know if I should change/add anything for her)
#a word with friends#dragon age veilguard#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age rook#antivan crow rook#lace harding#scout lace harding#my post#rook x harding#my writing#veilguard modern au#rook zalan
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➹ All Banged Up ➹
[mostly Dallas x fem!who hates hospitals w/ some cameos of the gang]



TW⚠️: cursing, medical situations, fighting, casual drinking, nosocomephobia (fear of hospitals), getting stitches, pain
summary: in which the reader gets into a bar fight and seeks help for her injuries from Dallas and the gang (oneshot)
a/n: hey guys!!! I usually don’t write/read fics but honestly….this was kinda fun! might do more in the future. also, sorry if some spots have bad grammar or don’t make sense, like I said I don’t usually do this stuff but i really hope you like it anyway! also, ponyboy was asleep the whole time lol
word count: 1.5k
.* ೃೀ ◌ೃೀ .*ೃೀ ◌ೃೀ .* ೃೀ *ೃೀ .* ೃೀ
It was a pretty regular Saturday night, Dallas was over at the Curtis’s and you decided to go out to a bar with some of your girlfriends.
As you and your friends are sitting there nursing your drinks and catching up, a woman approaches you. She’s clearly drunk and high off of god knows what. “Hey bitch!” She yells, directed at you. You whip around to face her and she looks pissed. “I saw you over here……” the rest of what she says is inaudible, but it’s clear she’s not happy with whatever you were doing.
Before you can think twice, she takes a swing at you, jabbing you right in the face. And just like that, your hands have a mind of their own, knocking her pretty hard in the jaw. She quickly retaliates by hitting you in your mouth, the fat diamond on her ring splitting your lip clean open. ok, that hurt. You stand up out of the bar stool to get more to her level, but she pushes you down, the alcohol in your system doing nothing in your favor. Once you’re down on the ground, you try to get back up, but she kicks you hard in your side.
You clutch your side in pain, and she uses that opportunity to swoop down and punch you right in the eye. At this point, your pain and adrenaline level is through the roof, making a deadly combination. As your fist goes up and connects with her nose, you hear a sickening crack. When you draw your fist back, it’s covered in blood. As you look up, the woman is covering her nose and crying. The bouncer finally steps in and drags the woman away, leaving you on the floor aching. You quickly get up finish the last of your drink before bolting out the door.
As you stumble out the bar and onto the sidewalk, all you can think about is how much you want to go home. But you don’t want to go back to an empty house, and then another address pops into your head: the Curtis’s. You know that Dally is there, and all of the guys probably have some fighting experience, so they’d know what to do.
…
You barely make the walk to the Curtis house and you almost fall into their front door. You can hear the lively scene going on inside the house and as soon as you swing open the door, everyone turns to look at you and the room falls completely silent. Dallas immediately bolts up and walks towards you. “Doll, what the hell happened to you?” He asked in a concerned but calm tone. “Some chick at the bar jumped me,” you slur. Darry comes up beside Dallas to examine you also. “Looks like she got you pretty good,” Darry added. As he sees you sway, Dallas quickly wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Let’s get you to the couch,” Dallas says as he walks you to the couch.
You plop down on the couch as the rest of the gang observes your damage. They all look shocked and almost a little pale, some of them stepping closer to get a better look at your injuries. “Damn,” Two-bit mutters. “If you think you’re hurting now, I can’t imagine how you’ll feel tomorrow,” Steve adds with a slight chuckle. “Did you win?” Sodapop asked. “Mhm, I broke her nose,” you slur with pride, wincing as you smile. Dallas looked at you in shock when you said this, almost not believing his girlfriend could do such a thing. “Someone get the first aid kit,” Dallas says as he examines your face more. Darry quickly goes into the bathroom and returns with the first aid kit and immediately starts working on you.
Dallas sits beside you as he watches Darry, who is sitting on the coffee table across from you, clean you up. Dallas doesn’t know first aid as good as well as Darry does, so for once he’s okay with another man touching his girl. “She got me on my side too,” you say quietly as you vaguely motion to the side of your torso. Darry looks over to Dallas seeking his help and permission to lift your shirt up. Dallas scoots closer and lifts up your shirt, revealing a huge purple bruise on your side. Johnny hisses at the sight. “Damn y/n, that’s gotta hurt,” Johnny comments. You can feel Dallas push your shirt up a little more, revealing the very edge of your bra. You look around the room, expecting to see hungry stares but you’re only met with concern still etched on their faces.
Dallas catches your look around the room and he leans in close, murmuring into your ear, “relax, they’re just worried about you.” His breath is hot on your ear, momentarily making you forget about your pain. “This cut on your lip is pretty bad,” Darry states as he tries to clean around it. “How deep is the cut?” You ask. “Deep enough that it could need stitches,” Darry replies. You swallow hard as he mentions stitches. You hate hospitals, they always freak you out. Sensing your nervousness, Two-bit says, “hey, getting stitches ain't so bad,” Steve looks over at him and says, “Two, the last time you got stitches, you got sick all over the place!” At this, the room erupts in laughter.
“Does it actually need stitches….?” You ask, your tone slightly panicked. “Yeah babe, I think so,” Dallas says. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt that bad,” you say as you try to downplay your injuries, anything to get out of going to the hospital. “Y/n, you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think that cut is gonna heal on its own.” Darry says bluntly but gently. Dallas takes one of your hands in his. “Look baby, it’s not gonna kill you to get a couple of stitches” Dallas says, his voice low and soothing. “Just a pinch and it’ll be over with.” He reassures you. You sigh, knowing that there’s no point in arguing with these guys about the hospital because they’ll drag you there anyway. Taking your sigh as a yes, a small, triumphant smirk plays on Dallas’s lips. “That’s what I thought, let’s go before you change your mind.” Dallas stands up and offers you his hand, leading you out to his car.
…
As Dallas pulls up to the hospital, Darry’s truck parks beside you guys because everyone insisted on going with yall. As you get out of Dallas's car, he quickly holds you by the waist to support you as you all walk inside. The whole gang gets out and walks beside you and Dallas as you enter the hospital. As you walk in, the receptionist gives you a weird look. “What happened?” She asks. “She got into a bar-” Two-bit tries to tell the truth, but Darry quickly elbows him to shut him up. “She fell and hit her head real bad,” Dallas says. “Okay…” the receptionist says, clearly not believing the story. All of you cram into an exam room, some of the guys sitting on the floor.
The nurse walks in and examines your face intently. “It looks like you need stitches on your lip,” the nurse states. “I’ll go get the doctor so he can stitch you up!” The nurse says cheerfully. At the revelation, you swallow hard, your heart rate and nervousness spiking. The doctor is a lean, middle aged man. “So, I heard you took a bit of a fall,” the doctor says. “Yes sir,” Dallas responds, knowing you’re nervous as hell. “Looks like you’re gonna need about ten stitches, give or take.” At the doctor's revelation, Steve lets out a low whistle, everyone else looking a bit shocked. You glance nervously at Dallas, only for him to mouth “you’ll be okay,”. As the doctor turns to prepare the stuff, Dallas slowly inches toward you, eventually ending up on the step of the exam table.
You let out a sharp hiss as the doctor injects the lidocaine, and Dallas quickly reaches up, his hand finding yours. As the doctor starts to sew your lip up, the gang is talking amongst themselves to distract themselves from what’s happening. Most of the guys are shockingly too squeamish to watch someone get stitched up, despite the fact that they’ve all had their fair share of injuries that they dealt with like a champ. As the doctor finishes sewing you up, he starts to talk. “Now, try to limit any activity that can pull on the stitches or cause them to pop loose, and come back in about a week to get them removed.” You glance at Dallas when the doctor says this, and he has an almost defeated look on his face. No activity that pulls on stitches means no kissing, which, best believe, he’s bummed about. As you all file out of the room, Dallas leans over into your ear and whispers: “you did such a good job back there,” and plants a soft kiss to your cheek.
#the outsiders#se hinton#the outsiders movie#the outsiders headcanons#dallas winston#the outsiders fandom#sodapop curtis#dallas the outsiders#dally winston#dally#the outsiders dally#dally x reader#the outsiders dallas#the outsiders 1983#fanfic#oneshot#the outsiders sodapop#darry the outsiders#darrel curtis#steve the outsiders#johnny cade#ponyboy curtis
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bruises | matt sturniolo
tw: bl00d, Matt x fem!reader, and swearing
summary: Riley is always cleans up Matt's bruises and wounds after his games (and fights).
a.n: this is my first published writing! please be nice lol, but constructive criticism is appreciated 🫶
The football game had ended. Highlanders won 46 to 34. Riley smiled as she saw number 4 and number 3 get in line with their team. Both teams were giving their end of game handshakes, until number 4, Matt, got to number 12 on the opposing team.
It was sudden. Matt threw his helmet on the ground and tackled 12. Riley and Nick were in shock. Her eyes were wide.
"What the fuck is he doing!?" Nick shouted, not directly at anyone. Him and Riley were making their way off the bleachers.
Matt pounded his fist into the kids face. Chris was trying to pull him back. 12 punched back, but Matt's throws were more angry. His hair was in his face and sweat was dripping past his eyebrows. The refs pulled Matt off of the kid. He was bleeding but not as bad as the other guy.
"What the fuck Matt!?" Chris yelled at him. Nick made it to the field.
"You are so fucking lucky mom isn't here, she would be so disappointed." Nick scolded.
Matt rolled his eyes. Grabbing his helmet off the field, he started walking towards the lockers. Riley tried to stop him, but he kept walking.
She followed him into the locker room. "Matt?" No response, "Matt." He's ignoring her. "Matthew." He took a deep breath and turned around. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were low. His hair was sticking to his forehead. Blood and sweat mixed on his upper lip. She walked closer to him, slowly, scared she was gonna set him off again.
"What happened?" She looked in his eyes. He stared back blankly.
"He just had a punch-able face." His voice was deep and horse. She rolled her eyes.
"Fine, don't tell me, I don't care." She sat down as he continued to take off his gear.
He took his jersey off , then his shoulder pads. He took another deep breath. Riley looked up, she knew he was hurting, but she didn't realise it was this bad. He had bruises all over his shoulders and ribs. She stood up, reaching for his bruises. He winced at her touch, but eased into it.
"You need to stop getting into fights, Matt. This isn't healthy." Her hand rubbing soothingly on his bruises, careful not to press to hard. He knew it wasn't healthy, but the fights always ended up with her helping him clean and wrap his wounds. He didn't know how to get her to touch him any other way.
She stopped suddenly, which made Matt groan. She always knew how to make the pain go away for a little bit. She turned around and rummaged around for a first aid kit. She came back with the little box in hand. He smiled softly at her. Riley always made sure he was okay. Even when she was mad at him.
She took the ice pack and gently placed it onto his skin. His breath hitched at the feeling.
"Sorry." She looked at him with concern in her eyes. He stared into her eyes with nothing but love. She looked away feeling her face get hot. Her breathing got slower and heavier. She continued to focus on icing his shoulders and ribcage.
Once she finished, Matt sat down on the bench. She went back to the first aid kit and grabbed a sterile wipe. She turned back to Matt, who looked up at her with doe eyes. She grabbed his chin, ignoring the feeling in her stomach. His nose wrinkled at the feeling of the wipe.
"Stop." She stated while wiping off the blood from his lip. She set the wipe on the bench. Grabbing his chin again, she turned his face, making sure she got all the blood off his face.
His eyes connected with hers. She licked her lips. It felt like everything stopped. Matt grabbed her waist and pulled her in. Her breath got caught in her throat.
"Matt," she whispered. He looked at her lips, wanting nothing more to do than feel them against his. She felt hot all over. He smiled while looking back into her eyes. One of his hands gripped her waist, while the other trailed up her back to her jaw. He pulled her closer. his lips ghosting over hers.
"Can I kiss you, Riley?" He asked gently. Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, while she nodded. He leaned in pressing his lips against hers, finally. He snuck his hand to her hair and pulling her even closer.
She almost fell with his sudden movements. Laughing softly she smiled into another kiss. He smiled back. After a few minutes the broke the kiss. Breathing heavy and kiss-drunk smiles.
She pushed off of him, grabbing the bloody wipe off the bench and the first aid kit.
"I like it when you take care of me." Matt said to her back. She turned her head to him.
"I know, Matt." She smiled softly, turning back around to put the kit away. "See you later Matt." She walked out of the locker rooms with a smile as large as the ocean.
He was left on the bench dumbfounded. Of course she knew he liked it when she took care of him, she's not oblivious. Matt, on the other hand, might be.
a.n: um I don't know how to feel lmao. I'm really tired tho. it's 1:45 am when I finished this 🫶 hope you guys like this!
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt x reader
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Hi!! I was wondering if I could maybe request a fic in which Kit Walker is kind of in a bad headspace trying to overcome everything after Briarcliff and reader (fem) helps him going through this vulnerable period? pls & ty 👉🏻👈🏻
DON'T DREAM IS OVER.
─── KIT WALKER x f! reader / angst & fluff

warning: mention of trauma and a bit of violence.
a/n: tysm anon, I really loved this suggestion and would definitely write something like this in the future. Since you didn't express exactly what you wanted, I tried to add a little bit of everything and something VERY romantic at the end. Hope you like it, btw<3.
Briarcliff practically ruined his life, adding to the fact that he lost Grace, his fellow asylum romance...or the love of his life, Alma. Both of them held a special place in his heart, but when he met you everything changed.
He felt vulnerable with you and most of the time...he felt like you were the only person who could control what he felt almost every night; bear the weight of seeing so many things, living so many things like the abuse by the nuns towards him and other people. And you were always there to calm him down, support him, and even shower him with kisses on the cheek to soothe his anguish. He loved you, and he would die for you if it meant saving your life.
As you both slept on a normal night of an ordinary day, you curled up on his body while his hand was on yours that rested on his chest, you could feel him sweating...maybe it was the heat of the room? or probably a nightmare.
They grabbed him by both arms, the "doctor Arden" took him to his strange office, strapping him to one of the metal stretchers. As Kit opened his eyes in fear, swallowing hard and screaming for help, Arthur's fingers moved as he found a syringe and the medicine he once used to make Kit die and then bring him back to life.
"I won't let you hurt me! She'll come for me!!" Kit screamed desperately causing Arthur to look up and laugh at the desperate young man with noticeable dark circles and a somewhat thin body.
"Who? Alma? She died, Kit." Arthur said almost mockingly but Kit interrupted him.
"My wife...Y/N" he said in almost a weak whisper. Arthur filled the syringe with the medicine while his eyes remained on Kit.
"Your wife...your wife must be rolling in her grave now after you killed her. It seems like you'll never stop making the same mistake, right, Bloodyface?" Dr. Arthur lowered the medicine bottle and approached dangerously close to a desperate Kit who was moving on the stretcher, tied from feet to wrists.
"im not bloodyface!" Kit yelled. "And she's not dead...I didn't kill her. She's waiting for me" said Kit on the verge of tears, the thought of losing you was killing him.
"Don't worry, young man. You'll see her again... in hell for sure." Arthur began to laugh almost demonically and aggressively stuck the needle into Kit's neck, making him scream.
You woke up in fright when you heard his scream and saw him sitting next to you, staring into space as the sound of crickets outside filled the silence. His breathing accelerated, then his gaze dropped to his shaking hands and his sweating body.
"baby..."
You whispered, placing your hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly and turned his head to look at you, his skin pale. He had had that nightmare again.
"I'm fine—I just had a nightmare." He tried to dismiss your concern but you shook your head, sliding closer to him to hug his shoulder and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Go back to sleep. Im sorry." He said, unable to look at you, your heart creating a hole as you looked at him like that.
"It was a nightmare, Kit. Now you're here, with me...at home." you said as your hand caressed his shoulder.
"i just—" He whispered and looked down as he began to sob, causing you to hug him with a lump in your throat. You hate seeing him like that...it was horrible all the trauma those people caused him. "I don't want you to think that I've gone' crazy or that I can't get out of it...I'm sorry." He said between sobs as you hugged him tightly, his hands still not touching you.
"Shhh, I know it's not like that. But I have said it and I will always say it, love. I am here, and I will never leave your side nor will I tire of being there for you." You whispered and he looked up into your eyes, his dark brown eyes watery as his brown hair covered part of his forehead.
"What did I do to deserve you? You're an angel." He said and then hugged you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your arms held him tighter and your hand caressed his hair.
His body pushed you a little towards the bed, still sobbing from the terror of losing you and you knew it well. His body slowly laying on top of you as he held you tight in his embrace. But soon he raised his face looking at you and closed the distance kissing you on the lips desperately, desperate for your touch and for it to take his thoughts away from that horrible place.
You gasped between kisses as one of his hands slid down your body to get rid of your underwear and his, while his right arm held your shoulders against the bed and his lips blocked yours.
#kit walker#kit walker x reader#kit walker x you#kit walker x y/n#kit walker x femreader#kit walker fluff#kit walker angst#evan peters x reader#evan peters fandom#evan peters#evan peters fluff#american horror story#ahs asylum#american horror story asylum
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Stunt gone wrong


Summary: Yeonjun´s girlfriend y/n helps out as a stunt double, but the stunt goes wrong and she ends up with a semi-serious injury.
Genre: angst, fluff(?)
Pairing: bf!Yeonjun x fem!reader
Word Count: 889
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of blood, hospital
[notice: it´s my first time writing for TXT and my brain was somewhat foggy and didn't want to cooperate properly, but I still hope you all will like it!]



Y/n was asked to jump in as Beomgyu´s stunt double for his fall off the bike in the MV for Loser=Lover. She didn't mind, after all, it's not that hard to safely fall from a moving bike. Yeonjun didn't really like it, but he didn't stop her, he's supportive of his girlfriend and her hobby, which turned into a part time job for TXT and sometimes for their big brothers BTS. Being a background dancer, who also has experience in being a stunt double, y/n often helps out when they need someone and her looking similar to Beomgyu at this time, she was perfect for this stunt.
However, this day felt off somehow. The bike was wobbly underneath her, but y/n didn't mention it, she didn't want the shooting to be delayed because of her. So, she gritted her teeth and thankfully, the first shoot made it into the video. When she fell, her head hit the street where they were filming a bit harder than anticipated, but y/n shrugged it off, so no one really paid attention to her through the rest of the shooting.
That is, until Yeonjun noticed his girlfriend being quite pale and just sitting leaned against one of the equipment boxes. In one of his breaks, he walked over with a concerned look on his face, crouching down next to her.
“Hey, y/nnie, you okay?” He asks quietly, head tilted just a bit as he tried to check her for any signs of injuries or anything, but he couldn't make out anything, since her head was lowered and the hood of her sweater was up.
“Yeah, it's just a scratch, don't worry Yeonjun,” she whispered, but winced lightly when she moved her head. This didn't go unnoticed by Yeonjun and when he reached out to cup her cheek gently, he froze in place. Her cheek felt slightly scraped and there was something wet and warm.
Carefully, he removed her hood and a gasp escaped him. She was bleeding, along the side of her face, her skin was scraped open and her temple seemed to have hit the asphalt a little too hard.
“Shit, fuck. Y/n, this is not just a scratch!” He hissed out, head poking up to look around and when he spotted Soobin close by, he yelled for his friend. “Soobin! Get me that first aid kit and call an ambulance, right now!”
Soobin did as told and he did it quickly, running over to where Yeonjun and y/n were positioned, his jaw dropping when he saw her face. “Shit- here, Beomgyu is calling the ambulance now. Can I do anything else?”
“I don't kn- hey, hey y/nnie, baby, stay with me-” Yeonjun’s voice got panicky when he noticed y/n drifting off and tilting aside, his eyes widened in panic. Soobin quickly reacted and sat down next to her to steady her against himself while Yeonjun talked to her.
“Hey, remember what you told me earlier, y/nnie? You wanna tell Soobin too?” He asked, fumbling with the first aid kid, his hands trembling in panic. Soobin took the pack from Yeonjun and opened it, hoping that the ambulance would arrive quickly. Beomgyu soon came over too, carrying a bottle of water. “Here. How's she doing?” He asked quietly while Yeonjun applied a bandage around her head to stop the bleeding a bit at least.
“Yeo-…’m so sleepy…” Y/n’s voice was mostly a slurred whisper, Yeonjun looking helplessly at his girlfriend and then at his two friends. Even though he's the oldest of them, he doesn't know what to do right now.
“You can sleep in a bit, okay? Tell me something, y/n. How did you like our outfits today?” It was Soobin’s voice, calm and soothing. He knew that she'd have to stay awake and with a nod towards their oldest, he gestured Beomgyu to help Yeonjun to wash his hand and calm down. “Hmm…like Yeonjun more in…his soft warm sweaters…” she whispered, smiling, but then her head dropped against Soobin's shoulder and he could hear a quiet snore. “No, no you can't sleep, Y/n, c'mon.”
Alerted by those words, Yeonjun spun around to look at his friend and his girlfriend, panicking, his breath hitched in his throat. He just wanted to hurry over, but then Kai already came running, followed by a medic and soon the ambulance stopped right where they were.
Y/n was rushed to the hospital and the five boys followed, neither was allowed to sit in the ambulance with her. It took almost two hours of waiting in the ER, Yeonjun pacing around in the waiting area of the hospital while Soobin tried to calm his hyung.
“She's in room 319, it's on the third floor. Don't worry, she'll be fine, it was nothing life threatening, just a concussion.” The doctor said when he came out as he was stopped by Beomgyu. Kai couldn't hold back a little chuckle when he heard the room number, but soon followed his hyungs to the room. All of them were relieved, when they saw y/n sitting in the hospital bed, smiling at her favorite boys. Yeonjun didn't hold back and ran over, carefully kissing her with a teary laugh, he had been so horribly worried.

© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.

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(I'm currently taking a Child's Safety class at my job and half the time I was mentally writing this)
The silence was deafening.
The three year old and five year old had been playing loudly in the main bedroom while Sunny tidied up, stripping bedding and picking up toys that were scattered about. The kids had been bouncing around on Sunny and Buggy's mattress while she was in the room next to it, listening in to make sure they were okay. They were laughing and squealing with each jump, the bed and mattress creaking underneath.
Except she got a little too distracted organizing Silver and Gold's toys that when she realized there was no noise coming from the room she panicked. She stopped what she was doing and hurried over to the room, hoping they were okay, but the sight before her stopped her in her tracks.
In the five minutes she wasn't listening, Gold and Silver went over to Buggy's vanity, emptied several drawers, and now Silver was sitting in front of her brother as he tried to draw on her face.
The sight was very cute but Sunny was concerned about how her husband was going to react. That was all of his makeup on the floor, various containers open, contents spilled and smeared everywhere.
She had to take a deep breath to keep from reacting herself before she went to find her husband.
Buggy was busy looking over some maps in his office, grumbling about some of the crayon marks on them. The kids had gotten a hold of them and he didn't know how but he wasn't very happy about it.
"Honey?"
He looked up with a frown, seeing his wife in the doorway with a grin on her face. He blinked in confusion for a moment, wondering why she was looking at him like that, but she made her way over to him and kissed him on the forehead.
"I need you to come see something but I don't want you getting mad."
"What happened now?" He sighed, already dreading what she was about to say.
"Promise you won't get mad at them, Buggy. We can scold them but they won't understand what they did was wrong."
He groaned and stood up, wondering what he was about to walk into. Sunny led him back to their room and he stopped in his tracks.
By now Silver had a colorful face with the different colors Gold had used, and the little boy was now trying to draw designs on his own face without a mirror. Buggy's eyes went from his kids to the mess before his shoulders dropped and he sighed in defeat. The kids looked up when they heard them, their faces lighting up.
"We look like daddy!" Gold announced.
"Daddy!" Silver agreed as she lifted her arms up to him.
Sunny watched her husband for a reaction. He could only stare down at them before he walked past them and went over to the wardrobe, opening it to rummage around. Sunny took a seat on the floor beside her daughter, lifting the little girl into her lap as Buggy came back with something in his hand. He sighed and held it out for Sunny to see.
"I was going to give these little monsters their own kits to destroy so this didn't happen." He said as he sat down, trying not to focus on the destruction of his makeup. Some of it was brand new while some was headed for the trash. He was... He was upset. He knew parenthood was going to be hard but he knew he couldn't get too mad at them. They were still so little and he didn't want his children scared of him.
"Oh, Buggy." Sunny scooted closer to him and kissed him on the cheek. He cleared his throat as his cheeks pinked and he turned his attention back to his son.
"Now, if you wanted to wear this stuff you shoulda asked, you little monsters." Buggy said as he looked over his son's face. It wasn't that bad. He licked his thumb to correct some of the lines. "I bought you your own stuff though, so next time use that, got it?"
"Daddy, can I do yours?" Gold asked as he held up the red pigment stick. Buggy shook his head and Gold's face fell, but his dad pointed at Sunny.
"No, but practice on Mama. She doesn't know how to do this stuff."
"Now, hang on-"
"I think it's fair since this happened while she was watching you." Buggy continued with a smug look on his face. He pulled his son into his lap and turned him to face Sunny. She looked unsure about this but Buggy just grinned.
Really, he couldn't be too mad at the kids. They did spend most of their mornings with him as he got ready after all, watching their daddy get ready for a day of piracy with his makeup freshly done. And it was pretty cute seeing blonde versions of himself watching as their mama got her makeup done. He couldn't help but give his son direction, eventually pulling Silver into his lap so she could help out. Buggy enjoyed giving his red pigment stick to her to put on Sunny and he snickered as the little girl drew wiggly lines all around Sunny's mouth.
"All done!" Gold announced as he looked up at Buggy.
"Done!" Silver chimed in. Sunny sighed and grabbed a little compact mirror off the floor to look at. She wondered how easy this was to wash off but she wasn't going to say anything that would wipe the smiles off her children's faces.
"Well, look at that, spending all those mornings with daddy really paid off." Sunny said as she turned her head to the side, admiring the work they did. Red squiggly mouth, uneven blue lines around her eyes, and a half drawn set of bones on her forehead. "I like how you copied daddy's look. Good job!"
~
That night, after the kids were bathed and put to bed, Buggy helped his wife clean her own face off, using a homemade solution of coconut oil to get every little bit off.
"I say this a lot but you're a good dad." Sunny told him as he worked carefully around her eyes.
"Yea, well..." He trailed off, face turning red as he distracted himself. "Can't help but be the best at everything, you know."
"So humble." She hummed as he finished cleaning her face. "I mean it. I know you had concerns about this sort of thing but I'm proud of how you handled this."
Buggy shrugged, wiping his hands with a towel to clean off the oil. That was still a concern of his. He still wondered if there would be a day where he screams and loses his temper at his kids in a way to make them scared of him. He didn't want that.
She smiled and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. "And you were so cute with them as you helped them put the makeup on me. You were so sweet and gentle. I loved watching the three of you."
He kept quiet, letting the praise sink in, his face burning red as he looked up at her.
"Babe?"
"Yes, honey?"
He cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. "I want another one."
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hi! ♡ this is neve ( she/her ) and i've brought to you blush boutique's owner, nam yeonji. since she's been in ansong for twenty five years, you best believe she has done a lot of things since then! feel free to read her about and memories here. more ( like, a lot more ) details on her can also be found under the cut. and before i forget, drop a like on this post if you're up for some plotting! ( ps. i'm so happy to be here and please do expect me to be very annoying in your ims soon! )
ansong
tried dropping all of her items down at the building's lost and found. sure, she had that familiarity in her heart but what the hell would she do with a children's make-up kit? bffr.
she spent ten whole years studying at ansong university, majoring in fashion design, creative writing, then visual arts. still likes painting and reading to this day. (her subconscious was probably pushing her to do so because she barely graduated high school in her waking life.)
about fifteen years ago, she opened blush boutique and the rest is history. thanks to it, she was able to unlock her first core memory too. (her first collection was inspired by the color palette of the aforementioned children's make-up kit.)
purposefully moved to floor #09 unit #09 to try and figure out what her "nine" notecard means. (spoiler alert: nothing good.)
for now, the only thing she remembers of her past is that she was very close to her grandmother.
personality
looks like a bitch, sounds like a bitch, is a bitch. i was originally going to make her less complicated but where's the fun in that!
success has always been the most important thing to her and it's no different now; take a look at her degrees or her boutique. pushes herself hard and pushes others even harder.
the beautiful thing about her is that no matter how cold or intimidating she may be, she mostly just doesn't know how to interact with people. she doesn't necessarily want to be rude, but she also doesn't care enough to apologize and try harder when she fucks up... so, you know. she sucks but not that much.
on the bright side, she's nice to party with! just don't work at blush or get too close to her and you will be fine! i think.
in my head, she has the same energy as that one annoying coworker who comments on everything you do and spreads gossip for fun. i support women's rights and wrongs.
another slightly concerning thing she does is people-watching. doesn't try to be subtle about it either. if you think she's judging you, she most likely is.
but she's not all bad! (please don't give up on her pleaseplaeasepelapselease)
very creative. puts a lot of thought and effort into everything. extremely loyal, both to her craft and to those she loves. doesn't lie or pretend; always very straightforward about her intentions. if you're her friend, you will never feel unappreciated! you will be showered in gifts and that's a threat. just don't expect words of affirmation from her because she doesn't have the slightest idea how to do that.
connection ideas
any antagonistic plots, obviously! she called your outfit ugly, stole your cat, hit on your boyfriend/girlfriend at a bar, etc.
rivals. maybe another business owner who gets on her nerves.
that one unlikely friend who is all "i can fix her" and it grosses her out.
if you need a low maintenance friend, you have found her! your muse could ghost her for years and she wouldn't even notice.
anyone who is into art in general! if you nerd out with her, you might see a better side of her, just saying!
let's give her another weird ex! she can't remember the one from her waking life so it's okay. <3
or anything else you want. i'm all ears!
and now, onto the part you're probably curious about!
trigger warnings: brief mentions of abuse (child, domestic, and alcohol), depression, suicidal ideation, and murder.
life and death
let me set the scene: late 70s, jeju city. baby yeonji's parents, living their best life thanks to grandma yeonji, so much so that they even named their only child after her. thing is, her grandmother was one of the most successful actresses of her time, which allowed the family to live luxuriously.
naturally, this privilege also came with its own set of expectations. her grandmother and mother were both adamant that yeonji goes down the acting route herself.
(this was mostly to make up for the fact that her mother never succeeded as an actress. passing down generational trauma, the tragedy of being a daughter, etcetera. you know how it goes.)
so yeonji became a child actress, constantly missing school just to keep up with her work. by her early 20s, she started to win awards of her own. acted in a lot of romance k-dramas, which she absolutely hated.
her then boyfriend (who is unnamed for plot purposes but also because i hate his ass) proposed to her at an award ceremony (way to make it about yourself, buddy) and the two got married soon after.
long story short, their relationship turned really abusive and yeonji started drinking. she would also frequently call suicide hotlines as she felt like she had lost control over her life. (or that she never had any to begin with.)
just a minute before the clock struck midnight on new years' eve in '99, yeonji had an argument with her husband and was pushed off a balcony. (not so fun fact: the nine notecard refers to the year and the number of floors she fell down.)
currently thinking about how both her grandmother and mother outlived her but.. that is a heartache for another day..
if you read this far, have this lore accurate yeonji depiction:
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uptown girl playing while driving the impala to a hospital bc sam and dean are dying in the back and nervously singing (dean would 100% hate this song so him not complaining about it is extra concerning) and sam reaches a hand out to brush against your arm before he’s slumping back and they both look like they’re losing plenty of blood
-🌬️
OH THIS IS A CRAZY ASK TO SEND (in the good way ofc) like wowowow omg :,)
this is making me so . brain goes crazy. in such a writing mood so i lowkey wrote a whole ass drabble!
you rush into the abandoned building, gun drawn and your heart anxiously raging in your chest. sam called, there were too many to handle just the two of them. you only stayed behind because sam was worried about your injury from the last hunt. the call got cut short, and you haven't heard from either brother since.
you find sam first, blood gushing from his side, a weak hand pushed against the wound. you drop down next to him, your knees getting wet with his blood. "shit, shit, shit," you curse quietly. "sam? sam, look at me, please." he's barely awake, but your voice catches his attention. you press your hands to his wound. "sam.. sammy, where's dean?" you ask desperately. you need to get him out of here.
"h-hey," he chokes out, voice a whole lot shakier than he'd like. his head tips back a little, guiding your eyes to the boots sticking out from around the next doorway. it's definitely dean.
you feel bad for not checking on dean first, but if you can just get sam to your car and hand him the first aid kit, you know he'll at least be able to press some gauze to his wound while you go back for dean. so you haul him back outside, struggling with his large frame all the while. but you get him settled as fast as you can and dash back inside. you're surprised by two vamps this time, but you take them out without too much of a fuss.
dean's knocked out cold. it'll be hard to get him out, but you're smart and skilled enough in this horrible game that you'll figure it out. he's not bleeding as much as sam, but gash on his head looks bad.
he wakes halfway to the car, groggy as he tries help by supporting some of his own weight. when you turn the car on, your music is still playing, but you don't even realize until you're halfway to the hospital. you've been far too preoccupied with being sure neither of them pass out on you. they both look close to it.
uptown girl she's been living in her uptown world i bet she's never had a backstreet guy i bet her momma never told her why
dean doesn't like this song, you think out of the blue. you eye him through the rearview mirror. he makes no move to say anything, not even complain about the music like he always does. your hold on the wheel tightens, and your chin trembles a bit.
you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel sam's fingers brush over your arm. you glance at him for a split second before your gaze returns to the road.
"hey," you murmur, trying to sound soft and reassuring. you realize that he's trying to comfort you, and your heart aches. he's too good. his hand falls away, and you mourn the loss fiercely. just a little bit. you're almost there. maybe you should tell him you love him. just in case.
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Clavis x Emma The Rose From Bed to Bouquet
tags: fluff, slight angst, some suggestive content
Clavis
I'd let Emma take me anywhere. I tell Cyran, Jin, hell, I even tell Chev, that I'm waiting for her to whisk me away. What man doesn't want to get lost in chaos and adventure with the love of his life? I don't just love her legs because of how soft and pretty and infinitely comfortable they are. She walked to me on those legs, and one day, I hope, she'll walk away with me. Somewhere far, farther than far. There's so much of the world I haven't seen, the world and its beautiful people and their beautiful lives. I want to show her and I want her to show me.
Surprise me. Don't let me see it coming. That'll be hard, but not impossible. I know and she knows that sometimes I can be... a little...
Anyway, I've already started packing. Revealing skirts, portable cooking set, shovels, med-kit, sewing-kit, a kit for making new kits, special toys. Cyran asks me if I have any self-awareness. He's already gotten bored and left the room by the time I think to answer what I assumed was a rhetorical question.
He's not wrong; is this supposed to be my surprise trip or Emma's? I deflate a little and plop down inside an empty lavender luggage like an oversized clown. I know what the problem is, but actually thinking on it stings as if I were pressing on an open wound. Not a big wound or anything, of course. Or it's that one wound again. The fear that...
Anyway, I'm almost done packing. Emma need not concern herself with this portion of our future someday trip. I am forever at her service, because she's passed every single test so far.
Emma
I can't help but feel my stomach drop a little when I accidentally come upon the small mountain of packed trunks and chests. Dammit, Clavis. Here I'd been, dreaming up plans for a wild, truly crazy adventure, something that would suit my wild and crazy lover. I was going to surprise him with it soon. I'd spent far too many afternoons giggling to myself as I imagined his face going blank and then blossoming into that sweet, beautiful smile that I loved. I hadn't told anyone else. I hadn't left any clues. It was all still in my head, so how did he-
I see a pair of familiar blue boots sticking out of an open trunk. Then I'm standing over him, looking down at him, wondering how he fell asleep contorted like this. Well, it's not that I don't know the answer. My troublesome king still doesn't let on how hard he works himself. I can only imagine all the extra load he took on just to have time to put this mountain of supplies together. I have to laugh, honestly, bitterly. You'd think he was preparing for the end of the world with half the stuff he has in here.
"Mm...a?" A warm hand latches around my thigh.
I flick him lightly on the forehead.
"Ow... don't do what Chev does...!"
I crouch in front of the trunk, reaching inside to loosen his cravat. His skin is reddish-pink where the fabric rubbed him while he slept. The white of his shirt collar is steeped in the sunset coming in from the round porthole to our right. He'd look like a doll shoved into a drawer if he wasn't so animated. His hand keeps finding my leg, my knee now, but the touch feels strangely innocent and vulnerable.
"I guess the secret's out," I say with a sigh that comes out heavier than I'd intended and yet lighter than what I feel. "How did you know?"
Clavis chuckles, still drowsy. "How could I not? After all, I am..." His brows furrow. "Wait, know what? What secret?"
I stare at him. He stares at me. Five or six seconds go by.
"About..." I venture carefully. I don't know why he would lie about this. "About... the trip I was... planning for us...?
Clavis' lashes catch the last bit of sun as he gives an exaggerated blink. "No... I was not aware that..."
I don't know how he finds room for both of us in this trunk, but he does. Two dolls in a sudden, wild and crazy embrace.
--- Thank you for reading! Inspo was Tom Sweterlitsch's writing style ^^
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