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lizzybeeee · 7 months ago

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DATV Spoilers - The Story We Lost

Posted earlier that I was compiling a list of lore/story threads that have been dropped with DATV's handling of Southern Thedas. The sheer number of things means that I've made this into two parts - this one focusing on all the story threads that have been effectively dropped.

Spoilers for the game ahead, of course.

If you've played the game then you'll know that Southern Thedas - everything from the past three games - was basically swept away by the blight.

A double blight should have catastrophic consequences for the entirety of Thedas, I don’t deny that, it’s nothing short of a mass extinction event – the absolute worst case scenario for all of Thedas.

However, waving away the fact that Southern Thedas - specifically every area you ever traveled to and interacted with in previous games – is gone, devastated by the blight, in a codex entry and line of dialogue makes it abundantly clear that BioWare is attempting to clean the slate so that they can move forwards with the game series with no ties to the previous ones.

The Warden, Hawke, and the Inquisitor effectively accomplished nothing.

As I put it in another post: I never expected them to consider every decision in game outside of the three options they gave us, but I certainly didn’t expect them to go scorched earth on the possibility of ever seeing the results of those decisions either.

How the lore has been handled in this game, summarized to “the elves did it” and “there’s been a shadowy organization in the shadows pulling the strings on everything” is absolutely devastating to the franchise.

The lack of care with which this was treated just bleeds, “There, we’ve answered all questions and finished with this era of Thedas. Moving on now.” At the same time, this destruction absolutely obliterated whatever story threads remained from the first three games.

Could BioWare bring these threads back? Yes, I suppose. But it doesn't change that it was so carelessly thrown aside in the first place.

If they didn't want people to care about their decisions and the impact they made on the world, perhaps they shouldn't have made that a feature of all the previous games.

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Story Threads/ Plot Points that were dropped:

Limited my points to what was in the Dragon Age Keep and what points were brought up frequently in codex entries, conversations, etc...

Edit: I never expected all of these points to be answered in DATV - this is just a list of what was effectively brushed to the side through very bad handling of lore and story.

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Dragon Age: Origins

What is the line of succession in Ferelden?

Things are looking very grim for Ferelden's succession and the Theirin/MacTir line if nothing is done. And nothing was done. The entire plot of DAO literally culminated in resolving this issue, yet no one seems to have learnt a thing from it?

- Anora ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Alistair ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Ruling together they have no heir - Alistair and a Cousland Queen have no heir - Anora and a Cousland King-Consort have no heir

The only potential candidate that can fit into several of those world states is Kieran.

Fergus Cousland, according to lore, is the second closest to the throne that is confirmed to be alive in DAI - potentially the brother in-law to the King/Queen of Ferelden.

Ferelden's succession with Alistair as King hinges on whether or not the Warden was able to cure the blight. Alternatively, it is hinted that he may be more resistant since he has dragon blood in him from Calenhad.

The potential implications of Kieran being the bastard son of the King of Ferelden.

Kieran being used as a political pawn to depose Anora using the Theirin bloodline.

DAI took away whatever destiny Kieran had with the Old God soul – that didn’t mean that BioWare had to take away everything else too. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Denerim and Redcliffe have fallen to the Blight - it's unlikely that any of this will ever be brought up again.

2. Did the Warden find a cure?

Unknown. Irrelevant.

Ferelden ended up blighted. Denerim fell. If Ferelden rises from the ashes, it will be without any sign of their influence. Any mention of them will likely be their title alone - no mention of their accomplishments.

3. General Questions about the Landsmeet

What happened to Anora if Alistair is named King? Who rules the teyrnir of Gwaren following the blight?

What happens to Alistair if he's exiled? We know Teagan finds him in DA2 but what happens after?

If Leliana becomes divine does that mean that Connor Guerrin is potentially an heir to Redcliffe?

4. Companion Plot Threads

Morrigan's sisters - the many daughters of Flemeth.

Shale's quest to reverse the process of becoming a golem.

Whatever the hell Nathaniel Howe was going on about when you run into him in DA2 in the blighted thaig.

What, if anything, Avernus leaned from spending a literal age or two studying blighted blood.

5. Zevran's Crusade against the Crows

RIP Zevran's one-man crusade against the Crows and their child slavery ring.

DATV messed up immensely by portraying the Crows as more of a ‘found family’ rather than the horrifically abusive organization it was set up to be.

The very same organization that preys on the weak and disenfranchised - honing them to be tools for the nobles/powerful of Thedas - are now the heroic freedom fighters of Antiva.

The literal decade he spent hunting down the Crows and their leaders is up in flames. No mention in DATV whatsoever.

Wasted a perfectly good opportunity to have a schism in the Crows, with Zevran at the helm of kicking out the antaam, taking in Crows who are are sick of what's happening.

6. The Dwarves of Orzammar

The impact of Bhelen/Harrowmont's reign - ruthless progression verses strict traditionalism

The rumours of an uprising of the casteless dwarves in DAI

Will we ever hear of noble House Brosca or Queen/Lady Rica? Nope.

Will we ever hear of the son that Aeducan can have with Mardy? Nope. (RIP Duncan Jnr - I still love you)

The Anvil of the Void and potential links it may have to the Titans.

If Branka lives what happened to her?

No more fine goods direct from Orzammar

The entire caste system has been simplified by Harding in DATV to effectively be: 'surface dwarves' and 'deep roads' dwarves.

7. The Magisters Sidereal / Awakened Darkspawn

According to a codex in the Descent: one went mad, consumed another, and the final magister fled into the Deep Roads.

Corypheous + Codex Magister + the Architect (most likely) = 4/5 magisters remaining? Possibly?

Reminder that it's hinted that there's an eighth Old God that was struck from the records of Tevinter.

The Architect and his Awakened Darkspawn.

No, it was all the elves. They're all dead now anyway. Thanks BioWare.

8. The Guardian and the Urn of Sacred Ashes

"Where did you come from, where did you go? Nobody in Thedas will ever knowwwww."

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Dragon Age 2

Dragon Age 2 was pretty self-contained, with most things being tied up in Trespasser or DAI. The worst of the plot points abandoned relate to the companions in the game and the lack of closure/answers about them.

General Questions:

Kirkwalls, apparently, endless line of 'provisional' viscounts and constant political instability since Varric ran off to go after Solas.

According to DA: Absolution the Red Templars are still in Kirkwall...yet the show is set after Trespasser - when Varric is viscount? When he mentions that they threw a parade when getting Meredith out of the Gallows?

Aveline, Varric, Merrill and whoever remains of the Kirkwall crew apparently just allowing red templars take over the Gallows?

What happened to Petrice if she lived?

What happened to Feynriel if he went to Tevinter?

If Hawke lives following DAI - where are they?

I have a whole list of lore that's also been brushed over: the Sundermount, Corypheous, the Band of Three etc... I decided to put them in Part 2 since I feel they fit in more with 'lore obliterated' rather than 'abandoned plot points'.

2. Companions

Merrill's Eluvian:

Merrill spent years fixing an eluvian with a piece of string, a potato, and some gum - managing to actually do it.

And it meant nothing.

Eluvians are now a fast travel hub - all mysticism and awe at this marvel of magic are completely gone. Whatever sacrifices Merrill went through to save her sliver of elven history is meaningless.

Imagine if Merrill's eluvian aided in the fight against Solas - if having it intact gave you an advantage against him. Imagine Merrill weeping as Bellara fixes every other single eluvian in ten seconds with her magical omnitool.

Fenris and Slavery in Tevinter:

DATV utterly trivializing slavery in Tevinter is abominable.

Disregarding everything Fenris went through, everything he ever fought for, and making it something barely touched upon in DATV is insanity.

You wouldn't know there was slavery in Tevinter if the Shadow Dragons didn't drop a line or two about it.

Fenris' entire story of going to help free the slaves is diminished because no one wanted to show the ugly, dark side of Tevinter in DATV.

DATV has retroactively made this choice for him to be so unfulfilling.

Where is Anders?

What happened with Sebastian's crusade against Anders? Was he ever captured? Was he executed? Are you telling me that no templars ever pursued this man fanatically after what happened in Kirkwall?

Does his fate vary if Hawke was friends/romanced him?

Varric appointing a new Viscount’s Keep healer called ‘Banders’ who just happens to sleep in the same room as Hawke and their children call him ‘daddy’ lmao

Does his fate vary according to who is Divine? Vivienne hunts him down, Cassandra puts him on trial, while Leliana pardons him?

How does he react to Leliana abolishing the Circles? How much does he weep when the rebellion fails and the mages are destroyed? This man instigated the starting event for DAI and drove most of DA2's major plot and he's just...gone.

The Hawke Siblings:

From DAI we know that Warden Bethany/Carver are safe, but what happened to them if they're in the Circle?

Give us Knight-Commander Carver and First Enchanter Bethany Hawke, you cowards! Have them dismantle the Gallows and be the shining examples of human decency we know they are.

What happens to them after DAI and the Mage/Templar War is concluded? In a world that can embrace or reject them - how do they find their place?

Varric

Trespasser gave him a satisfying conclusion - he's viscount, he's in his shit hole of a city, he's surrounded by the people that he loves and cares about. He has the chance to truly build up Kirkwall after all the shit its gone through.

It just feels so bitter, so meaningless, that they gave him the end that they did in DATV. Varric should never have been the one to go after Solas - the only reason it was him was because he's a popular character in the franchise and was used to draw interest.

Why not Cole?! Who was literally mentioned in Trespasser as being on hand to help his friends - who has the ability to get through to Solas in a way no one else could?

No proper send off - no acknowledgement from those who loved him as to his fate...Varric was reduced to a marketing gimmick to draw people in who wanted to see if he died or not.

Isabela

Isabela's story was brought to a close in DAI - she became an admiral, got a fancy hat, helped the Inquisition, and kept in contact with those she loved/Hawke if defended from the arishok.

Imagine bringing her back in a terrible outfit, having the most sex/gender positive character misgender another person, and making her part of the group that steals cultural artifacts from others.

The tomb of Koslun and Aveline would like a word with you?!

The entire Lords of Fortune group is also extremely bland? No commentary on the ethics/effects of colonialism/cultural appropriation - because confrontational topics/ideas are not allowed in this game. Just like topics of slavery/indoctrination.

Her entire character just seems to have regressed from DA2. Why bother having her cameo in the game if she's not going to meaningfully contribute/comment on whats happening?

Edit - Thanks to bunnyiscthulhu for reminding me that Isabela's mother sold her into marriage...yet she does nothing when Taash's mother is outright forcing them into a life they don't want. Isabela, who believed that everybody should be free - that no one should be forced into a life they don't want, just...lets it happen to another person?

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Dragon Age: Inquisition

What's going to happen to the Red Lyrium that's popped up across all of Thedas?

Ferelden, Orlais, Kirkwall - all areas are reported to have red lyrium on the surface.

What happens to the Red Lyrium in Suledin?

DAI speaks about how they can never stop the spread of red lyrium, only slow it – animals, insects, organisms - whatever life is in the ground is all susceptible to becoming blighted by red lyrium. Suledin Keep in particular was utterly devastated by the Red Templars - what happens to life there?

2. What happened to Corypheous' Inner Circle?

What happened to Samson? How long did he live *if* he’s given the chance to help Cullen? Can something good come from his cooperation?

What happened to Calpernia?

Looking at previous concept art for DATV she was a companion - freeing slaves, gossiping about Samson & Corypheous. Just...what a waste. Any potential insight we could have gotten into Corypheous is gone.

3. The Mage / Templar War:

How does the world vary if you conscripted vs allied with either?

How do the remnants of what faction was not chosen fit into this new world?

How does the world deal with abominations and weird magic shit now? Is an alternative to the Order made if it's wiped out in DAI?

How is Cullen's templar clinic doing? If the templars still exist, how is Divine Victoria changing/adapting the Order to better support mages/templars?

4. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts:

How do Orlesian politics reflect who was made ruler?

Is Gaspard looking to expand into Ferelden once more? Are the elves being brutalized under his rule like they were by his chevaliers? Does he do away with the grand game like he threatened in DAI?

How does this differ if Briala has collared him? How do his supporters feel that Briala has his balls in a vice?

Do Celene and Briala stay together? Do things improve for the elves and for the culture of Orlais at large?

Do improvements for the elves mean that Solas' arguments to his elven agents are less persuasive?

If Florianne is alive what the hell is going to happen to her? How quickly does she fall on her blade after being forced to wear flat shoes for the rest of her life?

How quickly does shit fall apart if you get all three to cooperate lmao

Friendly reminder that DATV sets up that all of Orlais, except for the Winter Palace has been overrun by the Blight - and that a coup from the Venatori is inevitable, likely resulting in any ruler dying.

5. What is the line of succession in Orlais?!

Why does every noble family in Thedas have no contingency plans for if their head of government dies?!

Part of why we needed to resolve the leadership problem in DAI was because there was no clear, direct heir if Celene died!

Celene has no heir Gaspard has no heir

Florianne planned to frame Gaspard, murdering Celene herself, leaving no clear heir to the throne - Orlais was already in a civil war, the council of heralds/nobles would have all campaigned in their own interests...that was why this was so important!

Orlais shortsightedness and pride in their nation being the greatest in Thedas led to them almost falling in a single night!

6. Here Lies the Abyss:

What are the ramifications of having the Warden's exiled verses remaining in the south?

Trespasser literally states that there's a schism in the Order because some Warden's believe they should touch grass more often and not listen to some bloke up in Weisshaupt for what they do down in the south.

Perfect opportunity to have the wardens remaining in the south mean something! Greater numbers in the south means that there's a greater chance of holding against the blight - while greater numbers in the north can effect if Antiva/Tevinter end up blighted in the first attack!

How does public perception towards the Wardens/King of Ferelden change when they learn they were exiled for committing human sacrifice to demons?!

Give us a warden coup and First Warden Alistair / Blackwall, you cowards!

7. The Well of Sorrows:

What was the point of drinking Mythal's bathwater?!

It's been set up as something that changes you. Bound to Mythal forever?!

Retroactively, Solas feels like he's going mental about nothing! One of the few times he ever breaks - he begs you not to - and...for what? Nothing.

DATV does not acknowledge that in the slightest. Such a waste and disappointment of what was made out to be an impactful decision in DAI.

Imagine if the Inquisitor drinking from the well made us forced to fight against them during the fight with Solas - imagine if Solas, in a world state who hated the Inquisitor, used them as a puppet! Just like the envy demon in DAI - and no one notices until its too late. Imagine Mythal herself, wanting Solas to go through with his plan - (or one of the other evanuris) using an Inquisitor/Lavellan he loved as a puppet - imagine the horror he feels as another one of his friends is reduced to nothing more than a mindless slave of the evanuris once more. Imagine the devastation as he watches Lavellan lose all sense of self - perhaps swaying him to, maybe, not go through with his plan?! Imagine having Cole come back to help save the Inquisitor - or Solas begging Rook to save them.

8. DLC Implications:

What happens if Hakkon is not slain? What happens to Southern Ferelden and the Avaar?

How does the rest of Thedas react to the truth of what happened at Red Crossing and the Dales? How do they react to learning that Inquisitor Ameridan - First Inquisitor and leader of the Seekers - was a dalish, elven mage?

What happens if you do not save the mines in the Descent DLC? How badly is Orzammars economy crippled? There are already rumours of riots occurring within Orzammar - it this enough to push the caste system over the edge?

9. Elven Uprising and the War with the Qun:

The elven uprising that was implied to be occuring all over Thedas as a result of years of oppression, systematic abuse, and Solas’ influence? What happened to it?

Where are the agents of fen'harel?!

It was set up that Solas was planning to use this rebellion as a smokescreen for his plans - the elves, all rebelling for good reason, rallying to his cause while Solas planned to restore the world that once was. The rest of Thedas would only see an elven uprising, not knowing the true face behind it until it was too late!

The war between Tevinter and the Qun?!

Everyone conveniently forgetting that the Qun literally attempted to assassinate every noble family in Thedas? Why was there no exalted march because of this? This should have destroyed any accord between the chantry and the qun. There would absolutely be blood for this – Tevinter could have attacked the Qun and all of Southern Thedas would have applauded - no one would have differentiated between extremist qunari and the normal qun, especially not after Kirkwall.

The implication at the end of Trespasser that we could convince Solas to abandon his plans? Him saying that he welcomed giving us the chance?!

The difference that the Inquisitors friendship, love, or hatred could have in either convincing Solas to take another path or damning him to go ahaead with his plan, no matter the cost?

Have our decisions in previous games matter! How we treated the elves - if we worked to better their lives or 'put them in their place' - can be used to convince him that the world can change! Have the ripple effects of these decisions be seen when the elven gods return, blighted - does the world turn against the elves, hardening Solas, or does the world defend the elves from those who would blame them?

Why was Sandal in the Crossroads?! Where is Bodahn?!

10. Divine Victoria!

How does the world of Thedas change with Leliana, Cassandra, or Vivienne at the head of the chantry?

How does Tevinter react to having a mage divine?!

Do relations change between both nations because of this?

Leliana allowing elves, dwarves, and even qunari to join the Chantry! Leliana also allowing members of the chantry to get married if she's romanced by the warden.

What happened to the Seekers? Are they being rebuilt?

Does the chantry inform the masses, the rest of the mages, that they can CURE tranquility?!

If either Leliana or Cassandra was romanced - what are the implications that may have on the chantry?

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No wonder the writers insisted that none of the past choices would have an impact on Veilguard - they literally went scorched earth on everything we ever did.

Ferelden is blighted - any legacy of the warden is gone.

Kirkwall is destroyed - any impact Hawke had is gone.

The hard won peace/order of the Inquisition was rendered meaningless since every single place that you went to and helped is now destroyed by the blight.

Orlais' ruler will likely be assassinated by the venatori who are plotting a coup with the nobles - making whomever you chose obsolete.

AND IT WAS ALL THE WORK OF THE MAGICAL ILLUMINATI FROM ACROSS THE SEA???

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authorscurse · 2 months ago

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Sylus watched as you applied different products onto your face. He finds it amusing how you turn into an artist with the way you paint your face as if it's a canvas.

He watches you with such a soft and endearing expression on his face that it almost makes you forget how ruthless and merciless your husband is as the leader of onychinus.

His gaze follows your form as you walk into your walk-in closet and retrieve your dress. It was a silk red off-shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that reached your mid thigh. It showed your dips and curves that complimented your body shape. You walk out the closet with your hand holding onto the front of the dress to keep it from falling.

Without a word, Sylus walks up to you and helps zip you up. You watch your husband through the mirror as he zips you up, his eyes never leaving he skin on your back. Once you were zipped up, Sylus leans down and places sof kisses on to your should and neck. Your hands fly up to his already styled hair and thread your fingers through the silver locks.

"So beautiful, kitten," Sylus whispers onto your ear as he meets your eyes through the mirror. Your eyes close, and your back leans back to Sylus's chest as he continues to lay kisses on your bare skin.

"We'll be late, Sy," you whisper to him, but he ignores your words and continues littering kisses on your skin. His hands fall on your hips and turn you around, and back you up to the floor length mirror. You gasp as your skin touches the cold mirror but your notes gets drown out when sylus connects your lips together.

"So, so beautiful," Sylus says between kisses. Your red lipstick stains his lips but he couldn't care less. "Sylus," you gasp and push him away gently to take in air that he had restricted you from. He grabs your wrists and lift them up your head and dive back to trap your lips into a kiss. One hand holds your wristwhole the other trails down your leg and lift it up onto his hip.

"Sy, we'll be late," you gasp as he turns his attention to your bare neck. "Don't leave marks," you whine as you feel him sucking on your skin, but you know he'll ignore you and leave marks anyway. Possessive bastard.

"Let's not go," Sylus murmurs onto your lips as he pants. You shake your head. You both have been wanting to go out and eat dinner together after so long and it's hard to place reservations at the new opened resteraunt down town.

"I'll adjust the reservation to tomorrow, how about that, kitten?" He asks, eyes swirling with so much desperation, lust, and yearning. You know you don't have a chance to say no when he looks at you like that so you sigh in response and you watch his smirk widening. He lifts you up properly this time, with both hands holding your legs and lips locked with yours as he carries you onto your shared bed.

"You better make sure we're eating out tomorrow, Sylus," you voice firmly and serious. "Wouldn't want to make the missus angry," Sylus smirks and captures your lips into a heated kiss.

Meanwhile...

"They aren't gonna eat out anymore, are they?" Kieran asks despite knowing the answer. Luke sighs and lifts up kyro up the floor. "Come on little boss, big boss and miss hunter are busy," Luke says as he carries you and Sylus's son into his room to block out the ungodly noises they'll be hearing the whole evening.

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 4 months ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #43

Stitches

Imagine dis…

I was just cleaning my room when I came across an old stuffed toy of mine. It is full of stitches like an amateur trying surgery for the first time and flopping it. I just remembered sewing my stuffed toy together as a kid. Like I was playing on them too harshly or one of my younger siblings got a hold of it and roughed it all up. So when I noticed my mom had no time to help me stitch my toy, I did it myself and the results varied…

…

John Constantine, aka the Laughing Magician, wasn’t an idiot. A drunk? Absolutely. A smoker? You bet. Had the worst bloody taste in romantic or sexual partners? Well, that’s a given. But an idiot? Not a chance. He knew, better than most, that the world he lived in was held together by nothing more than spit, lies, and a hell of a lot of bloody stubbornness.

But lately, something felt off…

Every time some wanker in a bright-colored cape and spandex punched, both literally and figuratively, through time or ripped an open hole to another dimension, it began as if reality was fixing itself.

He still remembered the bloody heart attack he nearly had the first time he read those sodding reports on time travel and dimension hopping. The second his eyes skimmed over the first few lines, he buggered off without so much as a goodbye, diving headfirst into the mess to sniff out whatever godawful consequences those spandex-clad pillocks had left in their wake. So imagine his surprise when, after dragging his sorry arse across the whole damn world, he found… nothing.

Not a damn thing.

No lingering paradoxes, no dangerous tears leaking out eldritch nightmares. It wasn’t natural. And anything unnatural coming from the bastard that split his soul like some two-bit, overachieving Voldemort, made his skin crawl.

So, like any poor sod with a knack for bad decisions and a bloody inconvenient conscience, he followed the ripples.

And that’s how he ended up standing in the inky void between worlds, a cig hanging off his lips, watching some scrawny teenager go to the fabric of reality that was torn apart by yet another one of those bloody spandex-wearing tossers, with a needle, like the universe had personally pissed in his pint.

The kid sat cross-legged in the void, stabbing his bloody needle through the fabric of space-time, and from the looks of it he was fueled by nothing but caffeine and a serious dose of spite. The thread he was using was bright blue, flickering with silver and white specks. Like tiny stars in each thread. Each stitch yanked the frayed edges of existence together, a bit rougher than necessary, like he was pissed off at the whole damn universe.

Constantine blew out a long stream of smoke, taking in the mess around him with a grimace. A sorry bloody sight, that’s for sure.

The kid had already clocked the audience, rolling his eyes so hard it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. He didn’t even bother with a glance, clearly unimpressed.

The kid introduced himself as Danny, then stretched out another few feet of thread and got back to stitching, like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The kid, Danny, if Constantine heard right, grunted, clearly unimpressed. He didn’t stop working, shoulders hunched in exhaustion like he’d been doing this for far too long. The whole cosmic janitor routine: they rip holes, he stitches 'em up. Same old, same old.

Bloody typical.

Constantine crouched down, eyeing the erratic stitching with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. This wasn’t normal, not by a long shot.

Danny let out a sharp, humorless laugh, clearly fed up. He jabbed the needle into a particularly stubborn tear with all the force of someone who'd had enough. The sarcasm practically dripped from him. Seems he was well and truly done with his unglamorous role in this cosmic mess.

Constantine felt a prickle of unease, the kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He didn’t need to ask, but he did anyway.

What happens if you stop?

Danny’s response was all sarcasm and sass, if there was any doubt left, it was gone now. He didn’t even need to elaborate. The answer was bloody obvious if the kid, Danny, ever stopped stitching.

Danny snorted, flashing Constantine a wicked grin, all teeth and mischief. The kind of smile that made his gut twist.

Ah. Bugger.

Constantine didn’t need a bloody prophecy to know what that meant. If the kid stopped, the world wouldn’t just fall apart it would unravel, slow and steady, like a seamstress unpicking stitches, one by one, until nothing was left. And worse? There’d be no afterlife waiting to catch the poor sods caught in the collapse. No heaven, no hell, no second chances. Just the abyss, swallowing everything whole. No way in. No way out.

Now Constantine was scrambling, doing everything in his power to keep the kid from buggering off while there were still holes left to patch. And, just as importantly, making sure those spandex-clad pillocks finally got the memo, no more bloody time travel or dimension-hopping shenanigans.

The kid must’ve clocked what he was up to because, without a word, he handed Constantine a green-glowing bat with “Creepstick” printed on the side. He didn’t think much of it at first up until, after one particularly miserable day, he swung the thing in frustration and accidentally clocked Superman, who had just been reaching out to ask if he was alright.

For a second, Constantine felt guilty. Then he remembered that the Kryptonian had probably punched more holes in reality than anyone else. That guilt? Gone. Replaced by pure, unfiltered glee.

With renewed purpose, he set his sights on the next offender, the red spandex speedster responsible for most of the timeline’s headaches. The rest of the heroes caught on quickly that he was on some kind of unholy warpath. So when he casually knocked the Man of Steel on his arse with a single swing and grinned like a serial killer who’d just found his next victim, they did the smart thing they got the hell out of his way.

Some of the ones with super-hearing overheard his next target: one of the Flashes.

Constantine knew damn well he wasn’t getting into any afterlife, but for fuck’s sake, if they didn’t stop tearing holes in the bloody universe, none of them would have a place to go. No heaven, no hell just the abyss waiting to swallow them whole. And he wasn’t about to let that happen on his watch.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I tried using Constantine POV throughout the entire prompt and as you can see that I over did at the Brit slang.

PPPS: Though, how did I do?….

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #ghost king danny #john constantine

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sincerelyneo · 2 months ago

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show me | l.jn

“your eyes saying please me but your lips scared to ask”

💿: now playing: show me by bruno mars

❯ summary: Jeno knows you're needy, he can practically see it, but he wants you to beg for it. If you want him to please you all you have to do is ask.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 2.0k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, dom!jeno, slightly bratty reader, begging, dirty talk, edging, fingering, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (don't do this!), reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, swearing.

If wanting to see his girlfriend all needy and desperate made him ill, Lee Jeno would be one sick bastard.

Because every time you come over, he makes it his mission to fuck with your head—just a little. The low, filthy whispers he leans in to breathe against your ear during movies, the way his fingers ghost over your thigh under the blanket, the not-so-innocent brush of his lips against your neck—he knows what he’s doing. And fuck, does he love doing it.

There’s just something so sexy—so raw and vulnerable—about the way your breath stutters, the way your thighs press together without thinking. All because of him.

But that’s just the beginning. In fact, it’s nothing compared to when he finally gets you on his lap, straddling him, all flushed and pliant. His hands gripping your hips, tight, forcing you to grind against the thick bulge in his sweats—deep rolls that make your head fall back. He watches you come apart like it’s his favourite TV show, biting back a groan every time you gasp or let out one of those soft, breathy moans that drive him insane.

And he doesn’t stop. He keeps your hips moving, pulling you tighter against him, making sure you feel everything—every twitch of his cock—teasing and tempting you until you’re clinging to him and your mouth parts.

That’s when it’s the most fun for him, that’s the part that truly makes him a sick bastard—needing the breathless, the panting, the trembling. Because Lee Jeno doesn't fuck unless you ask for it. He needs to hear it. Needs you to beg for it.

“You know the rules, baby,” he murmurs, thumbs digging into your hips to keep you moving. Slow. Torturous. “You don’t get shit unless you ask for it.”

You whine again, breath hitching as your forehead drops to his shoulder, fingers curling tight in the fabric of his shirt. Every nerve in your body is on fire, aching with the need for him to do something—anything. He can feel it too—every tremble, every shaky breath. And the cocky fucker laughs. Actually laughs.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, mouth brushing hot against the shell of your ear. “You know how this works. You wanna cum, you wanna feel me inside you, you’ve gotta say it.”

You shake your head, not because you don’t want to—God, you want to—but because you’re still trying to hold onto the last thread of pride you have. Like you always do, but he just chuckles again.

“So stubborn,” he murmurs, letting one hand trail up your spine slowly. “But do you really think just grinding against me is gonna be enough to satisfy you? Enough to satisfy that greedy little pussy?”

“Jeno—”

You try to speak, but it comes out as a broken exhale—because he shifts his hips just right, and the thick press of his cock drags perfectly against your soaked panties.

“You can try, baby,” he mutters lowly, “but we both know it’s not gonna be enough. Never is.”

He flexes again, purposefully, making you gasp. Your thighs squeeze around him, your body betraying you completely.

“Ohhh, you like that, huh?” he taunts, pulling you down harder against him. “Feel how hard I am for you? How bad I wanna ruin you?”

You nod frantically, hips bucking, another needy whimper slipping from your lips as your mouth tries to find his. But he pulls back just before you get there, denying you even that.

“Not until you ask,” he growls. “Say it. Say you want me. Say you need me to fuck you.”

You shake your head in defiance, hand reaching for his, trying to guide it under your panties. His eyes darken, and in a blink, his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist, spinning you and pressing you flat against the couch cushions. Your back arches, legs splayed, breath caught, as he hovers over you, his weight keeping you pinned.

You’ve never done that—never tested him like this before—and it lights something in him.

“Cute,” he mutters. “You wanna try being a brat with me, Y/N?”

His free hand snakes down, teasing over your inner thigh but stopping just shy of where you need him. His breath fans against your neck, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear again.

“Be my fucking guest,” he snarls softly. “But know I’m serious. I’ll leave you here like this—aching, dripping, desperate—bring you to the edge over and over, and never let you cum. Not once. Not all night.”

You shiver, breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t get to act up and still get what you want, baby,” he growls. “Not unless you earn it.”

His fingers skim your panties—barely there—and then retreat again.

“So go on. Use your words.”

You writhe beneath him, hips jerking up, chasing a touch that he keeps just out of reach. It's so fucking hot—being reminded that no matter how stubborn you get, he’s still the one in control. He wants you to want him so badly it hurts, and you love how ruined he makes you feel before he’s even been inside you.

That’s why your voice trembles when it finally breaks free.

“Please,” you whimper, “please, Jeno—I need it. I need you. Need you to fuck me, ruin me, just—please.”

“That’s my girl,” he mutters, dragging your panties down with one hand while the other pins you firmly in place. “Don’t know why you needed to play stupid. Could’ve had this ten minutes ago.”

The cool air hits your soaked pussy, and the sharp contrast from how hot you feel makes you stifle, hips jerking again. His grip on your thigh tightens, steadying you with a low growl that rumbles right against your skin.

“So eager,” he mocks, but there’s no real bite to it. “You took your sweet time, baby. Now I’m gonna take mine.”

“No—Jeno—please,” you gasp, desperate.

“Oh, so now you wanna beg?”

His fingers trail over your cunt, barely grazing over your folds, and it’s driving you insane. He never gives you more than the ghost of a touch where you need it most.

“Dripping,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “So ready, and I haven’t even touched you properly.”

You writhe under him, trying to push into his hand, but he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. Because this is what he loves, what he lusts after. Seeing you needy and desperate—a sick bastard.

“Uh-uh,” he hums. “You don’t get to decide the pace now.”

You whimper something—maybe his name, maybe a plea, maybe just a sound—and he answers by dragging two fingers through your pussy, teasing over your clit with a featherlight touch that has you gasping, thighs twitching, nails digging helplessly into his arms.

“I told you,” he croons, fingers parting you open slowly, sliding through so easily thanks to how wrecked he’s made you. “Let me enjoy this.”

Eventually, he moves to circle your clit again and your back arches off the couch, a broken moan falling from your lips. But then he stops, pulling his hand away entirely.

Your breath catches. “Jeno—”

“Shh,” he soothes gently, and it somehow makes it worse. Makes you needier. “I’ll give it to you when I’m ready. When you’re ready.” And then he leans in close to whisper right against your mouth. “Say it again.”

You don’t even allow yourself to hesitate; you’ve learnt that lesson.

“Please,” you whisper, raw and trembling. “Please, Jeno. I need you. Need you to fuck me. I can’t take it.”

He groans, the sound of you begging shooting straight to his cock. Then, hands are on you again, steady, sure, no more teasing. Two fingers sink into you, deep and perfect, and your body responds instantly, clenching tight, welcoming him.

He works you open, curling his fingers just right, and you’re already spiralling—your moans shameless, your body shaking under the intensity of his fingers. It’s tantalising. It’s intoxicating. It’s almost too much.

But he doesn’t let you get too far. Not yet.

Because as soon as your legs start to tighten around him, as soon as your breath stutters and your eyes start to roll back—he pulls out again.

And this time, you nearly sob.

“No. Please.”

Your hips lift without thinking, chasing the feel of his hand, but he just leans back on his heels, eyes locked on you with that irritatingly calm smirk.

“You were about to cum, weren’t you?” he asks, wiping his fingers slowly on your inner thigh like he’s in no rush at all. “Poor thing. You look like you're about to cry.”

You are. Or at least your body is—trembling, aching, clenching around nothing. The coil in your belly’s pulled tight, and he’s keeping you right at the edge, refusing to let you fall.

“Jeno,” you whimper, trying to sit up, to grab at him, but he pushes you back down with a firm hand against your chest. His strength is dominating, and now you’re wishing he’d cancel his gym membership (not really.)

“What baby? You want me to fuck you?”

You nod desperately. “Yes. I want it—want you—please.”

“There she is,” he mutters. “That’s the voice I like.”

And then his hands are at the waistband of his sweats.

You watch, dazed and pining, as he shoves them down, his cock springing free—hard, thick, already leaking. You suck in a breath, eyes locked on the way he wraps a hand around himself, stroking once, agonisingly slow.

“You begged so pretty for it,” he mutters, eyes dark as he watches the way your hips lift instinctively like your body’s already reaching for him. “Let’s see how well you can take it.”

And with one languid, relentless push, he’s inside you.

Your mouth drops open, no sound coming out at first, just air, just shock at how deep he is, how full you feel. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. His cock stretches you open, inch by inch, and you feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, every twitch.

“Fuck,” he breathes, jaw tight as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours. “You feel so fucking good. Always do. Why’d you make me wait, baby?”

You can’t respond. Your body’s quivering, nails scraping down his back as you cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. But he wants you here—wants you looking at him while he’s fucking you.

“Eyes on me,” he growls, hand cupping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Wanna watch you fall apart.”

Then he starts to move.

Slow. Deep. Grinding strokes that hit all the right places. He’s brutal in his pace, and you can’t help but moan his name, broken and breathless with every drive of his hips.

“That’s it,” he pants, keeping his thrusts steady. “Let me hear it, baby. Let me hear you.”

And you try, your voice coming out as nothing but breathy whimpers. Your body starts to shake, and then there’s nothing left but you and him and the filthy sound of skin on skin and the way he ruins you—completely, thoroughly, and without an ounce of mercy.

Your walls clench around him, and that’s when his rhythm stutters. You whine, hips bucking in a desperate attempt to match his pace, to chase the high he keeps coaxing you toward—only to pull you away from it again and again.

“You wanna cum?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Say it.”

“Jeno—” you cry out, nearly delirious. “Please—I need to, I need to—please let me cum—”

His mouth crashes into yours, swallowing your cry as he fucks into you harder, faster, the control unraveling just enough to feel wild.

“Cum for me,” he says against your lips. “Wanna feel you break.”

And you do.

It hits you like a wave—white-hot, blinding, ripping through you so hard you scream his name, fingers digging into his back as your whole body locks up and then shatters around him.

He fucks you through it, every thrust drawing out the high, dragging more and more from you until your thighs are shaking and your voice is gone. Only then—only then—does he let himself fall with you, hips stuttering, moaning your own name as he spills inside you.

The room spins. Your body’s boneless, chest still rising in quick, shallow breaths—and Jeno doesn’t move. Not an inch. He just stays there, still inside, looking at your face like he can’t get enough of the mess he’s made.

Because, like he said, if wanting to see your girlfriend all needy and desperate made you ill, he'd be one sick bastard.

#nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut #nct scenarios #nct oneshot

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lidiasloca · 5 months ago

Note

hello!! I was wondering if you could write an azriel x reader fic where they've been best friends for centuries and one day the bond snapped for her. And she starts to avoid him because she thinks he doesn't love her so she doesn't show up to things they usually do together and whatnot (or however you want to put it!) but meanwhile Azriel is going crazy because he misses her and has been in love with her for years and then he confronts her and the bond snaps for him as well!! sorry if it's too long hahah but thanks

is it chill that you are in my head?

azriel x reader

friends to lovers

It was curious to think that no matter the strength you applied, no hit you made would ever hurt Azriel.

Yet, the Illyrian seemed intensely determined not to let you get to even touch him.

“Where’s your mind?” he asked as he dodged yet another hit. You took, at least, a bit of pride in his breathless voice.

You also took pride in how much you had made him sweat already, but you didn’t let your thoughts linger there too much—your eyes, neither.

“In trying to hit you.”

“Well, isn’t it frustrating you won’t satisfy your mind?”

“You get cocky—I’ll hit you down there,” you threatened, taking in his amused grin.

“There you can get?” he questioned as he circled you.

You held your fists up, following his eyes as he eyed you like a vulture. “You don’t want to find out.”

“I don’t,” he replied, just as you went to hit him.

He dodged it effortlessly.

And even had time, as you retracted your arm, to take it and pull you toward him, unbalancing you until you fell onto his torso.

As he prevented you from the fall he himself had caused, you found yourself close enough to his body to make out the intention written on his face.

A threat for a threat, you realized as you stared at those deep hazel eyes.

His face lacked any sympathy as he spoke, his voice death and sensuality all in the same honeyed spoon. “Don’t make threats you cannot back up, love.”

Your breath caught at the darkness that surrounded you. The darkness that you faced when you had his lips so close to yours, his eyes so focused on you.

Azriel was that: darkness. Both the dark that scared you as a child and the dark that now let you dream of him without guilt in the depths of the night.

“You’re right. No more threats,” you breathed as you drove your knee upward—

His hand was steel against the futile force of your movement. And a mocking grin on his lips was all you could think about due to the roaring in your ears.

Bastard.

The knee you were going to use to teach him a lesson was held in place with his right hand, which now moved down, and down until it found a place on the back of your thigh. He urged you nearer him.

Close enough. Until your surroundings vanished and you could only see his face, his never-faltering smirk when you made it so easy for him to mock you.

This was the Azriel you had only for yourself.

Not polite shyness, or quiet kindness.

But darkness.

All of it—all of him. Darkness.

Everything, but his eyes.

While you liked to have this flirtatious, dangerous Azriel—which you both called friendship—you still found yourself fantasizing about the light in his eyes and how soft they were, how romantic and intimate, and everything that he shouldn’t feel like.

Where all of him was dark, his eyes were golden.

Lightness.

Like a thread that led you through deeper parts of him, of his soul.

Too intimate.

You let out a long exhale. “I’m not in the mood,” you mumbled.

And it broke your heart the way he immediately released you. How gently he let go of you as a flash of… pain painted his eyes.

Then it was gone in a blink. And that smirk found its way to his face again. “I make you exhausted quite fast.”

“Mhmm,” was all you could mutter as you watched him—those eyes.

That thread.

What was that?

He held your stare with a bit of confused amusement. “What do you find so interesting?” he smiled.

You took all your bravery… and a step, and another, until you were back where you started: looking deep into his eyes, close enough to feel his breath on your face.

He didn’t dodge this time. And neither did he smirk as you placed both of your hands on his face to make him meet your eyes.

Those golden eyes.

There was something in them.

That lightness that guided you through the darkness—his darkness.

As a thread.

A gasp broke through you at the realization, at the feeling in your heart—your soul.

You took a step back, your hands sliding away from his face as gently as a wind’s whisper.

He eyed you worriedly, taking a step toward you as you kept walking away.

“What?” he asked, finally that mask off his face.

But you couldn’t bear the sight of his eyes again. The feel of that thread.

M-

“What is it?” he asked, desperation lacing his words.

Ma…

“Y/N?” he pleaded.

Mate.

You winnowed away before he could pronounce another word.

…

You knew hiding was not the solution. You knew you would have to face him eventually—he was one of your closest friends after all, yet…

“I cannot do it. I cannot see him.”

Another of your closest friends was there to make you think logically.

“Y/N,” Nesta said, taking a seat on the couch in your bedroom. “You’ve been hiding here for almost a month. You can’t hide from him forever. He’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, despite how stupidly childish it made you sound.

Nesta exhaled as if indeed, you were acting stupidly childish. “Mate? You cannot hear the word mate?”

There was a tinge of mocking in her tone that made you meet her eyes with fury in yours. “It’s very easy to look at me and judge me when you don’t know what this feels like.”

“What? Having an Illyrian as my mate?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips, and you knew your friend well—you knew it wasn’t mocking anymore.

Nesta, as if to prove you right, walked toward where you sat on the bed and made herself a place next to you, moving her hand to caress yours like a mother would.

She didn’t say anything, though, so you replied, emotion running your words slowly—unsteady. “You don’t know what it’s like to know your mate… doesn’t want you back.”

“You don’t know if Azriel doesn’t want you back.”

“Yes, I do. I know Azriel.”

“Well, I know him as well. And I know—actually—all the house, and probably all Velaris, knows he likes you. A lot.”

You shook your head.

Nesta went on, “He flirts with you all the time, Y/N. In all honesty, it was about damned time that bond snapped for one of you. It was clear you had something.”

“Exactly: something,” you rectified. “That something, Nesta, is flirting. Flir-ting. Nothing more, nothing else. That’s all he wants from me. Taunting and touching and provoking and friendship. But not love. And most certainly, not a damn mating bond.” You took a staggered breath, not able to meet her eyes anymore. “Not with me.”

Nesta watched you silently, then said, “You don’t know that.”

You shook your head, wiping a tear that slid down your face. “You don’t know either.”

“That’s true,” she replied, handing you a tissue with her free hand as the other drew circles on your wrist. “We won’t know until you ask him.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “So, I just ask him if he wants the mating bond with me? That simple? Thanks, Nesta.”

Her eyes narrowed at you in warning to watch your tone, yet her faint smirk provoked one to bloom on your face. “Yes. It’s that simple.”

“And when he says no?”

She shook her head. “What if he says no,” she corrected you.

Your smile grew just a bit. “What if he says no?” you echoed.

“Then I’ll beat his ass on the training ground. And have Cassian beat him afterward.”

You chuckled lightly, imagining the scene.

But the question appeared in your mind, and you took the courage to ask her.

“And what if he says yes?”

By the warm look in her eyes, you knew she had understood. “It’s a long way to go. But one finally learns to let herself be loved, Y/N.”

And by one, you knew who she meant.

You were grateful that afterward, Nesta and you had a more lighthearted conversation. And when it turned dark outside, Nesta gave you a hug and left your bedroom.

You knew you had to also leave your bedroom at some point and face what awaited outside that comfort.

But love seemed to find you just where you thought you were safe.

“Can I come in?”

It certainly wasn’t Nesta’s voice.

Your hand trembled as you went for the knob and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Azriel repeated, and you realized long seconds had passed of just you staring, unmoving.

“Yes,” you whispered, letting him through and closing the door.

You had prayed he stayed like that—backward to you, staring outside your window. Anything but have his eyes meet yours.

But he turned to you.

He was even more beautiful than ever, even if you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles around his eyes, his pale lips, or his eyes… almost lifeless.

Like the light had deserted him.

Like the bond had abandoned him… because he didn’t want it.

“It’s been weeks,” he eventually said, and his voice carried enough emotion you had to lean on the door, afraid to crumble to the ground. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

He took a step closer to you, making you meet his eyes again. “With what?” he demanded.

You weren’t fast enough to make up a lie before he said, “You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t quite a question. “You are mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he muttered, taking another step.

“I’m not, Azriel.”

He stopped his following step at the sound of his name. He looked like he had been slapped, and his face morphed into something unreadable.

“I’m sorry," he murmured.

“What?” you asked, walking towards him when he looked down.

You had to see his face, you had to understand him.

“Whatever I have done. I’m sorry. Forgive me and… be my friend again.”

You stopped in your tracks, not having quite reached him. Friends.

His words both broke and healed your heart. The desperation in them, the vulnerability.

You stared at the selfless male who cherished your friendship in front of you. Maybe you could take that and give up dreaming. Maybe you could convince yourself that friendship was better than nothing, even if it killed you.

“I miss you,” he said, and you decided that was the final blow.

A sob broke through you, raw and desperate, and his expression shifted instantly. He closed the distanced and his hands found your face, those scarred palms trembling as they cupped your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Don’t cry, please. I’m sorry.”

Friends.

Mates.

“What are you even sorry for?” you mumbled, shaking your head faintly.

“The last time I saw you - when you got… mad at me, we were doing what we always do. Well, what I always do. That stupid flirting, that… you know. And I know that bothered you. And I’m sorry. I never knew it made you uncomfortable before and… I’m sorry,” he said again.

You quietly stared at him, at the sadness and guilt in his eyes. “It’s not that it bothers me...” you said because it never had, but maybe now—maybe now it hurt your feelings - but that was because of you. It was not his fault.

Yet you couldn’t speak your thoughts before he went on. “It does. I saw it in your eyes… like you were disgusted.” His voice cracked. “And it broke my heart, because… I don’t want it either.”

There it was.

The truth you’d been bracing yourself for.

Friends.

That’s all he wanted you to be—a friend.

He took a deep breath, his hands falling away from your face as he stepped back, as if retreating from his own vulnerability. “It’s all a lie, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched.

“I thought that’s what you wanted—the only thing you wanted from me—and I tried to convince myself that I could settle with that. That it would be enough. But…” His gaze locked on yours, piercing and raw. “I can’t.”

“What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

“I love you, Y/N.”

The world stopped turning.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay with only being your friend. I don’t want to keep pretending. I just… I just want you to know that I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what life was before you.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

Mate.

“You love me?” you whispered.

He nodded as a tear ran down his face.

Another sob tore from you and his hands were on your face again in an instant, pulling you close. “I love you, too,” you murmured, the words spilling out.

And at last, the color returned to his eyes again, hazel-golden shining in the dark room.

And that was it; the light that you needed, the strength that guided you—that encouraged you to tell him.

“I am… I am your mate.”

A beat later you realized you weren’t the one who had spoken.

-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas

azriel masterlist

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope the fic is of your liking, though i took some liberties in the writing. thanks for your request, love!!

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine #azriel fluff #azriel spymaster

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meganwritesfanfics · 2 months ago

Text

Highway Don't Care (Dr Jack Abbott x reader)

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

Word Count: 4002

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion of car wreck, discussion of injuries, angst. I know nothing about medicine.

Companion Story: As it Was

“Why are we not taking my truck again?” Jack yawned as he stretched out as much as he could in the cramped Prius.

“Because someone decided to work a shift the day before we left for vacation, and is currently running on 2 hours of sleep.” Y/N laughed. “And you know that I don’t like driving the truck.”

“You can put in a chest tube without blinking but you are still scared of driving a stick.” He laughed.

“Will you just sleep, you are too sassy when you are sleep deprived and we will not survive the 3 hour drive if you keep acting like this.”

“Fine! But I would be much more comfortable in my truck and not in your toy car.” He teased.

“Jack, you forget I can murder you and make it look like an accident.”

“You took an oath to do no harm Doctor.”

“I think they would understand.”

Jack smiled as he reached over and gently placed his hand on her check and she leaned into his touch.

“I love you so much.” He said and her heart swelled. She and Jack had been together for over five years, but everyday she still felt so lucky to have him in her life.

“I love you too you old grump.” She said as she turned to look at him taking him in. “Now sleep.”

“As you wish” He teased quoting her favorite movie as he closed his eyes.

Y/N giggled.

She barely had turned back to look at the road, when she felt the impact of the car, and everything went black

*******

Jack woke with a groan, every part of his body hurt. He had blood on the side of his head.

“Y/N,” He grumbled as he tried to get his eyes to focus. All he could see was the shattered glass of the windshield. “Y/N” he said again, hoping for a response. He could feel the ever familiar sense of dread washing over him. “Please,” He whispered as he slowly turned to look at Y/N.

His heart stopped as he saw her. Her side of the car was absolutely caved in there was shattered glass all over her lap and her face was covered in blood. And she didn’t look like she was moving or breathing.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he tried to reach over to her, but the seat belt locked him in place. “Fuck!” Quickly he reached down to his pants pocket to grab his pocket knife. Jack winched in pain as he could tell his wrist was fractured, but he pushed past the pain to cut through his seat belt and leaned over to check on Y/N. “Sweatheart, open your eyes for me.” He pleaded as he held out a shaking hand and felt for a pulse.

“No,” He gasped when he didn’t feel one. “Y/N, don’t do this.” And in that moment he fully kicked into doctor mode. He quickly reached over and sliced through her seat belt, one hand supporting her head. “Y/N, come on, I need you to wake up.” The minute she was free Jack started to pull her out of the car. His whole body screamed with pain but he pushed it down knowing that Y/N needed him.

The minute he got her out and laid down on the wet grass, he started compressions.

“Come on Y/N.” He kept repeating. His wrist felt like it was on fire as he put all of his body weight into his hands for the compressions.

“Is she alright?” A voice called. “I’ve called 911, they are on their way.”

Jack didn’t respond, his whole focus was on getting Y/N’s heart pumping again.

“The other driver barely has a scratch on him,” The bystander called. “He is loaded though, there are open cans of beer in his passenger seat.”

Rage rushed over Jack as he looked up from giving rescue breaths.

“What?” He growled. “He was drunk.”

“Yeah the car reaks. Who the hell is getting drunk at 10am in the morning?”

Jack’s whole body shook, and if the love of his life wasn’t hanging on by a thread, and his hands weren’t the only thing keeping her alive at that moment, he knew that he would be on top of that bastard ripping him to shreads.

It felt like hours before he finally heard the sound of the sirens growing louder as they headed his way.

“Do you hear that baby, the ambulance is on it’s way. We will be back to the Pitt soon, and Robby’s working today, he will fix everything.” He soothed mostly talking to himself trying to keep himself from spiraling.

“Dr Abbott?” A voice said and he turned to see that he recognized the paramedics.

“Y/N isn’t breathing and she currently doesn’t have a pulse, we need to keep going with compression and…” He started rambling a bit.

“Are you ok?”

“Don’t worry about me, we need to save her.” He snapped as one of them took over on compressions.

The exhaustion and pain was starting to catch up with him as they all loaded into the back of the ambulance.

As he watched the parametric work on Y/N, Jack could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t survive it.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, that miracuriously wasn’t damaged in the crash. He mindlessly called Robby his eyes never leaving Y/N’s pale form.

“Brother, you haven’t even been gone from this place for a full 4 hours, what are you doing calling. I thought you and Y/N were heading up to the cabin this weekend.” Robby teased

“Robby,” Jack started his voice cracking. But he could hear the sound of the intercom calling in the incoming ambulance.

“Listen I have to go we have…” Robby started.

“It’s me, I’m coming in the ambulance.” Jack snapped.

Robby froze. “What?”

“Y/N and I got in a car wreck. Some drunk bastard hit us.”

“Are you…”

“I’m fine, but Robby, Y/N she’s… God… I had to do compression until the ambulance showed up, and she still not… I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“We will be ready when you get here. Jack. We are going to do all we can.” Robby said but he felt like he was going to lose it. Jack and Y/N were the closet thing he had to family. And he knew that Jack worshiped the ground that Y/N walked on. He had never seen someone more devoted to another person in his whole life. And he also knew that Y/N was incredibly good for Jack. The change that Robby had seen in his friend since the two had been together was amazing. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they lost Y/N.

It only took the ambulance around 10 minutes to get to Pittsburgh Truma Medical Center and as they rolled in Jack could see the entire team waiting for them.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are not ok.” Robby snapped watching as Jack limped in, covered in blood.

“Robby, she needs you, please don’t worry about me. Y/N needs you.” He pleaded and Robby had never heard his friend sound so broken before.

Robby nodded. “Dr Mohan will you take Dr Abbott to a room to check him over.”

“No Robby I need to be with her I need…”

“Jack you know you can’t. You are hurt. Please go with Samira.”

Jack looked over at Y/N who was in trauma one already and was surrounded by people working on her.

Jack just nodded as he limped behind Dr. Mohan following her as she brought him into room.

“I think I’ve got a fractured wrist.” He started as he hoisted himself onto the gurney wincing with pain.

“You are limping pretty bad, does your leg hurt?’ Mohan asked.

“My leg always hurts.” He snapped back, he know he shouldn’t take everything out on Mohan, she was just trying to help. But all he wanted was to be back next to Y/N. He needed to be useful in some capacity or he was going to lose his mind.

“Does it hurt more than usual?” Mohan continued. She had only worked with Dr. Abbott a handful of times, but she knew enough that he got defensive and standoffish when he was stressed. Not that he wasn’t always standoffish.

He sighed. “Yeah,” He reached down and started to take off his prosthetic. “I think my prosthetic pushed back into my leg in the crash.” When he pulled the prosthetic off he coud see that there was quite a bit of blood. “Fuck.”

While Mohan worked on Dr. Abbott, Robby was working on Y/N. She had broken ribs, and some internal bleeding from the wreck as well as a shattered femur.

“I think she has a collapsed lung.” Langdon said.

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Is Garcia on her way down?”

“She’s stuck in surgery, she said she will get down as soon as she can.”

“I don’t know how long Y/N has to wait.”

“I know boss, I’m going to put in a chest tube, give her the best chance. Have you checked in on Abbott?”

“Mohan is with him.” Robby said and he didn’t know if he could face his friend again without having any good news to share.

“He’s probably losing his mind, I know I would be if this was Abby.” Langdon said his voice cracking. Every doctor’s worst nightmare is their own loved ones coming in and their inability to help them.

“Robby,” Dana said popping into the room. “They just brought in the other driver. .350 blood alcohol, small lacerations on his arms from the air bag, but that’s it.”

“Fuck,” Robby sighed. “Do not let Abbott know he’s here, and we need to stick security outside his room, I’m sure the police will want to talk to him.”

“How is she?”

Robby just shook his head as he ran his hands over his face. “It’s touch and go, she needs surgery but everyone is tide up. I don’t know what he is going to do if we lose her.”

“Hey, don’t think like that, not yet. That girl is a fighter, lord knows she has to be in order to put up with Jack.” Dana said and Robby cracked a smile.

“Will you go check in on the other driver, if I go in there, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“And you don’t think I won’t smother him with a pillow. That’s our girl in there.” Dana said seriously tears in her eyes. “I’ll send one of the med students. I’ll make it Santos, Lord knows that girl could frighten a nun.”

“Robby!” Langdon yelled as he burst out of the trauma bay. “She’s coding.”

“Shit,” Robby ran in. “What happened!”

“We had her back and stable, but then she started seizing.”

“God call Nuro, she most likely had some severe head trauma. And where the fuck is Garcia!”

After being patched up and told that he needed to stay off his leg for a few days to allow it to heal, Abbott sat in his hospital room, running through scenerio after scenarios of all the injuries Y/N could have because of the crash. And he kept cursing himself for picking up a shift the day before. If he hadn’t he could have driven, and it would be him in that room not his girl. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Not after putting up with him for so long. He knew he could be an absolutely menace to live with. Some days he would come home from work and not want to utter a word to anyone. Other times, he needed to hold her as close to him as possible. She was he anchor. She kept him going.

“Jack,” A voice said and his head snapped up to see Dana making her way in.

“How is she, is she ok?” He rambled his eyes wild.

“Robby is still working on her, so is Langdon.” She sighed as she walked up to his placing her hand on his back, as she rubbed circles. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve got a fracture wrist, but Dr Mohan’s got this temporary brace on, so it feels better, and my prosthetic cut into my leg, but she’s got that wrapped up as well. She wants me to get a head CT but I…”

“I read your chart Jack, but how are you doing?” She asked looking into his eyes.

“I…” And finally the flood gates broke. “I can’t lose her Dana.” He sobbed.

“Oh darlin’” Dana wrapped her arms around him.

“She’s my whole world, and I know I don’t deserve her, hell she deserves far better than me, but I can’t lose her not like this. It’s my fault. I took the shift last night, and Y/N didn’t want me to drive because I didn’t get much sleep. And she won’t drive the truck so we had to take her stupid fucking prius. It should be me Dana.”

“Jack Abbott, don’t you dare talk like that.” Dana scolded. “That girl loves you so much. She would be so angry at you talking like this. And you know that the only person whose fault this is, is that drunk bastard who hit you.”

Jack’s head snapped up and his eyes were filled with rage.

“Is he here, did they bring that fucker here.”

“Jack, you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Y/N could die, and that fucker doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”

“Jack,” Robby said as he walked in the room.

“Michael, how is she?”

Robby’s jaw clenched as he pulled a chair closer so he could sit in front of his friend.

“No, don’t do that. Just tell me.” Jack snapped. “Is she alive?”

“She’s alive, but it’s not looking good Jack. She came in with a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, her left femur is shattered and we think she has a brain bleed.”

Jack let out a shaking breath. He knew he should ask more questions, but he couldn’t form words.

“She is going to head up to surgery, did you want to see her before she heads up.” Robby asked.

“Yes.” He said as he reached for his prosthetic.

“Jack, let me get you a wheel chair. Dr. Mohan said…” Dana started.

“I’ll be fine.” He snapped as he stood up wincing slightly from the pain but he limped his way out into the hall and to trauma one.

The minute he laid eyes on her, the seasoned trauma doctor froze. He had seen so many horrific injuries in his time both in the service and as a trauma doctor, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing Y/N lying there looking lifeless. Tubes running all around her and the intubation tube running down her throat. She was still covered in blood and bruises but Jack couldn’t help but think that she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Are you ok?” Robby said laying his hand on Abbott’s back.

“No. I won’t be until I know she’s going to survive this.” Jack sighed as he walked into room and in just a few strides was by Y/N’s side her cold hand tightly in his grasp.

“Y/N, I’m here.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You are going to be just fine. You have to be. You cannot leave me. What happened to you taking care of me when I turn senile.” He tried to laugh but it sounded more like a sob. Behind him he could feel the eyes of all the med students and nurses staring at him. But he didn’t care. “You have to pull through. You fight, you fight harder than you have ever fought before. You are so fucking strong. You can beat this. Just come back to me.”

“We are ready for her.” Garcia said quietly.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you so god damn much.” He kissed her forehead again.

The minute Y/N was wheeled out of the room, Jack felt his knees buckle and he collapsed. Luckily Robby was waiting behind with a wheelchair.

“Thank you for all you have done for her Robby. You gave her a fighting chance.” Jack said.

“Don’t thank me, it was your quick work after the wreck that really saved her.” Robby said as he started to wheel Jack out.

“I don’t want to be here anymore… I want to go home. Why won’t you let me leave.” A voice yelled across the Pitt.

Jack looked up to see what was clearly a very drunk man argueing with Ahmad.

“That’s him.” Jack growled and he was up before Robby even had a chance to stop him.

“Jack don’t!” Robby screamed. “Ahmad stop him!”

Ahmad quickly turned just in time to catch Jack as he he lunged for the guy.

“It should be you up there getting surgery. You hear me you piece of shit! How is it that you walked away with a few scratches, and the greatest woman I have ever known might die!” He screamed. “I should kill you.”

“Jack stop.” Robby said as he finally reached him grabbing him and pulling him back.

“He did this Robby. He’s the reason Y/N could die.”

“I know, I know Jack. The police are on their way.”

“It’s not enough, it won’t be enough if she dies.”

“I don’t even know who you are man.” The guy slurred and for a moment Robby thought about letting Jack have at him. But just in that moment two officers came in, ushering the drunk man back into his room to ask him questions.

“If she dies Robby, I swear to God I will kill him.” Jack said as he started to stagger. Robby quickly ushered Dana to bring the wheelchair back over.

“You will have to get in line. Everyone in this hospital has already called first dibs,” Robby said trying to lighten the mood. “Now, we need to get you up for a head CT.”

“I do not need a CT, my head is fine I…”

“At the very least humor me, I would like to know if your ego shows up on that CT since you got such a big head.” Robby teased and for the first time all morning, Jack cracked a small smile.

***********

It was hours before any new came about Y/N. Everyone kept checking in on Jack, trying to make sure he was staying preoccupied. They found on head CT that he has a slight concussion, but nothing that was concerning. Robby would pop in and run through all the patients they had so far, he knew that Jack needed to work in some capacity other wise it would drive him insane. Dana popped by while things were slow and the two of them watched their favorite cooking show, the one they used to watched together when Abbott used to work day shift. Even Langdon popped by a few times.

Jack had just closed his eyes to get some rest when Dana rushed in.

“Jack,” She said tears in her eyes.

His heart stopped. “Did I lose her.” He gasped.

“No they said everything went really well, and she is showing improvement. They are relatively confident she is going to pull through.”

His head slumped forward and he sobbed. It felt like the weight of the world he had been holding in, waiting for it to fully crush him was finally lifted off.

“Oh Jack,” Dana said as she ran to him pulling him into her arms.

“She’s ok,” He sobbed. “She’s going to be ok.”

“They said you can come up and see her, they have moved her into a private room.”

In an instant Jack was reaching for his prosthetic.

“No, hey, listen here mister.” Dana snapped. “Robby has insisted the only way you are getting out of this ER is if you use the wheelchair. He told me I had permission to use the soft restraints if you refused.”

“Who knew you were so kinky Dana.” Jack laughed.

Dana let out a loud laugh, there is the pain in the ass Dr. Abbott I know.” She smiled as she helped him into the chair. As they headed out Dana called out. “Princess your in charge until I get back.”

Jack felt like his whole body was vibrating. All he wanted to do was see her.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Dana rolled him into her room and he laid eyes on her again, and he let out a loud sigh.

She still was covered in wires and tubes and she still had the intubation tube down her throat, but her color was so much better. When he reached out for her hand it didn’t feel nearly as cold.

“Hi baby,” He breathed and he pulled himself up so he could lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I’m here baby, you pulled through. I’m so proud of you.”

Against all of the hospital prodocals, Robby pulled some strings and had another hospital bed added to Y/N’s room. He knew there was no way Jack was going to leave that hospital without Y/N by his side, and although Jack swore up and down he could just sleep on the couch, Robby wasn’t about to let one of the best Trauma Doctors throw his back out.

He never left Y/N’s side the whole time she was out. And every day the doctors came back with good news. By day 3 they were able to pull the intubation tube out, just leaving her with cannula.

Jack was doing laps around the room, trying to get the strength back to his leg after being off it for a few days, when he noticed Y/N shift. Instantly he was by her side again holder her hand tightly.

“Baby, Y/N, can you hear me.” He pleaded desperate to see her eyes open.

Slowly Y/N’s eyes cracked open and she winced from the pain of the bright lights. She could feel the pressure of someone holding her hand as she looked to see it was Jack. The minute she saw him and saw the stitches on his head, she remember the car wreck.

“Are you ok?” She asked looking him up and down. Her voice was rough and horse, and it hurt to talk.

Jack smiled sadly tears in his eyes. “Sweetheart, you are the one laid up in a hospital bed, you shouldn’t be asking me if I’m alright.”

“Car crash I…” She said trying to remember anything, but all she remember was Jack telling her he loved her and then the loud crash and darkenss.

“Some drunk asshole hit us, don’t worry I have already talked to the police, that fucker is going to do some hard time.” Jack said and she could see the rage in his eyes. Carefully she lifted her hand up to place it on his cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you Y/N. You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out of the car. I couldn’t find a pulse. I… I have never been more terrified in my entire life.” He said as he leaned forward placing his forehead on hers. “You can’t ever leave me baby. I need you more than I could possible explain.”

They stayed like this for a while, Jack finding comfort in the sound of her labored breathing.

“Well, I don’t have a ride anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to.” She teased. “Guess you are going to have to teach me how to drive the truck.”

Jack laughed as he leaned down to kiss her.

I'm thinking about writing a second part about the readers' recovery. Let me know if you would be interested in reading it.

#dr abbot x reader #jack abbott #the pitt hbo #dr michael robinavitch

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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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The Dreadful Need in the Devotee Masterlist - Completed

Summary - During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together.

Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion has decided you need a sworn sword.

I’ve messed with canon and aged everyone up, so we start our story off with y/n being fifteen and Jon being sixteen, then go from there!

Ch 1: The Little Lion Ch 2: The Bastard Son Ch 3: Cyvassse Ch 4: Greensight Ch 5: The Tourney of the Hand Ch 6: The Chamber of the Little Lion Ch 7: Within Lannister Grasp Ch 8: Secrets Revealed Ch 9: Enter Stage Left: House Tyrell🔥 Ch 10: Aftermath Ch 11: Roseroad Ch 12: Weirwood Ch 13: The Queen's Nameday Ch 14: The Son of the Morning Ch 15: Duality of a Lioness Ch 16: The Young Wolf Ch 17: Northern War Camp Ch 18: The Fall of the Lannisters Ch 19: Post War Revelry Ch 20: The Lion and the Star🔥 Ch 21: As Time Unfurls🔥

#meg talks #meg’s masterlists #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #lannister!reader #jon snow imagines #jon snow imagine #jon snow x y/n #completed fic

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miifu666 · 2 months ago

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“Show her my love is Sincere”

HELLO!!! im happy to finally finished this since the audio has been sitting in my to di list for days lmao. Thank you sm for all of the love and support everyone gave me, it motivated me to make this and finish it 😭😭😭❤️❤️❗️ i also had a friend pick the color palette hehe

Ive said before how Wukong would actively claim that he was the one who “knit the red threads himself” about him and suklha when really this is what he meant lmao. He’s just a dramatic bastard 💔

He asked Yue Lao for permission about her, seeing how soft and obsessive the once prideful chaos wrecking monkey is. At first the gods see it as a joke when Yue Lao blessed them, laughing on as they stirred some twisted idea of how it will all end. Yet as time went on, The couple began to be an example for every beings in love.

The thought of having a bond so woven together, it transcends their species and differing opinion. How they care and love for eachother in different ways, be it romantic, sexual or platonic. it was something that the gods envy. It was the purest form of sincere love.

Taglist : @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @skymoral @tuskstudioart @whatisev04 @forge-the-idiot @masterqueso @monkieshad0w @lilchickie @mehiwilldoitlater @missrosiesworld @sleepingdramaqueen

(As always please comment if you want me to add you in the taglist! Im happy to do so!)

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just-some-user-hunny · 10 months ago

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Platonic yandere Rhaenyra as your mother...

~ The moment she laid eyes upon you, she helplessly fell in love. All the anger and shock towards Daemon took a backseat to her emotions the moment she saw you- her breath stuttering in her throat as her own amethyst eyes settled upon the wailing girl in the mad prince's arms. No woman is keen upon the idea of their other half returning with a child that they've had behind their back, but the sight of a girl- a daughter, for her, settled her decision at once. It's unlikely for her to take out her frustrations out on you, and something about your tearful little face and upset cries for your mother made her want to take you into her arms at once to soothe you. She didn't care at all about you being a bastard, all she could see was a daughter. Hers.

~ Rhaenyra would spoil you. Gifting you dresses and jewellery and books and fine silk threads, and always wearing an adoring twinkle in her eyes whenever she sees you. Rhaenyra herself loves her precious gems and fine luxurious dresses, and now with her own little girl, you bet you're getting spoiled. She'd also love seeing her dear boys get along with you, further fueling her delusions that you're her own child. She'll call her 'my dearest love' and 'sweet girl' , a cautious protective arm always within reaching distance of you if things get heated at the dining table during rowdy family dinners.

~ she's often the one to smoothe your anger and sadness over when it comes to your conflict with Daemon, your father. He is always the one to dish out punishments and restrictions, and in his stead, she'll be the one to lather you with comfort and alternatives. As a child she'd carry you in her arms, wiping away your tearfulness and promising you a ride with Syrax after Daemon forbids you from riding your own dragon for a week. That dynamic fits well with them. Essentially, Daemon is The bad cop, and she is the good cop.

~ as a child, you were very against this woman mothering you when you missed your one mother at home. However you may eventually grow soft to Rhaenyra, even if it's unintentionally done. She's so attentive and gentle towards you, it's hard not to seek out her comfort- even if most of it is dismissive and performative to keep you calm. She'd happily braid your hair if you wish to go riding upon horse or dragon-back, and always with a smile upon her face.

~ Rhaenyra soothing you whenever you fights with her father, Daemon. She is firm, but gentle, the perfect salve to Daemons cruelty and coldness. He has always stood strong and confident, and the powerlessness you'd feel around him would both infuriate you, and make you feel hopeless. Rhaenyra is always there for the aftermath, to distract you from the sadness brewing in your chest. Squeezing your hand beneath the table as you all eat your meals together, your presence always insisted upon by Viserys and Daemon.

~ she'd be a fiercely protective mother. As you grow older, transitioning from her little girl to a young woman, she'd be very against any arranged marriages. If she could, she'd keep you at home forever, single and happy- or free to love whoever you like as long as they are approved by her and Daemon and that you remain at home with them.

Thankfully, due to your bastard heritage, you have no political duty to marry, and are therefore free from being wed for gain. (Sure, you'll never seat the iron throne, but as a woman in those times everything was cut-throat. You may as well have a taste of freedom)

~ Syrax is just as doting. You're her riders little girl, and that maternal feeling would come through both Rhaenary, and syrax. The large golden dragon will chirp and purr in your presence, bowing her head to sniff and gently prod at you- like a doting mother.

"Darling, are you joining us for lunch?"

"For the afternoon".

Rhae smiled warmly, watching you pet Syrax- who gazed upon the princess with passive golden eyes. Crooning gently into your touch, before retreating softly. Rhaenyra approaches soon after- peeling her riding gloves off before taking your face within the cradle of your palms and kissing your brow. 1...2...3, a mantra of soft kisses laid upon your face before she steps back to look at you. Her smile is genuine and warm.

~ As the dance of the dragon approaches, the more protective and demanding she becomes. Suddenly your dragon riding time is limited, especially after Luke's death :( the moment you even suggested leaving upon dragon-back to get some fresh air in the clouds she snaps almost tearfully, composing herself shortly afterwards, and then sending you outside upon the balcony with a guard. A pleading look in her eyes begging you not to disobey her, for her sake, please. She cannot lose you as well.

~ She becomes especially paranoid about team green snatching you away, as both teams are obsessed with keeping you on their sides amidst the approach of war. The amount of kingsguard that stand position outside your chambers every night, hell, even accompanying you around the castle increases. You seldom have a moment to yourself without a lady in waiting heel-to-heel with you, or a towering armoured knight breathing down your neck.

Even with Daemon gone, you're still trapped within the castle.

~ Bastard!princess reader wants nothing to do with this war, and although she may have created a connection to Rhaenyra and Jace and her twin sisters, she may see this as an opportunity to finally leave. Escape would be difficult, near impossible, but not out of the question. You still have your dragon at your call, so you may find a way to slip away and find a way to get to your dragon to escape.

Everyone would go mad however, almost putting a pause on the conflict to go out and find you. Be warned that Daemon and Rhaenyra would immediately go seek your hometown and mother and brothers (that is, if they are still alive), so you'd have to be smart with slipping from their grasps.

~ To the end Rhaenyra will hold onto you dearly like her life-line, committed to being your mother, regardless of your feelings or circumstance. Even as she is burnt, she will not cry or scream- only thinking of everything that she has lost. How she failed you, and everyone she ever held close.

(under the scenario that in the end you did leave and vanish, or worse, got killed in the conflict).

#yandere rhaenyra targaryen #platonic yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #platonic yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #bastard! princess reader #bastard!princess reader #bastard!reader #bastard! reader

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silens-oro · 2 months ago

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You Know Where You Are: Part IV (final)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part I | Part II | Part III

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: You either let the grief bury you, or you allow someone to pull you out. Word Count: 2,702 Content Warning: PTSD; Trauma; Grief; Mentions of death; Reader is in her 30's A/N: I listened to I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski on repeat while I wrote this, so I'm very sorry in advance. Thank you so much for the love on this series. We've reached the final part to You Know Where You Are and it has been an absolute joy share the journey with you. I may possibly do an epilogue in the near future if enough people want it.

Please comment & reblog :)

“You are incredibly tough to track down, you know that?” Jack’s familiar voice grunted as he sat next to you on the park bench you were currently occupying. You were taking a small break to people watch at a park about four blocks away from your townhouse. It as a frequent stop during your daily wanderings, it was just a matter of getting the timing right on if someone would find you or not.

“That usually means someone doesn’t want to be found, Jack.” You continued to watch, not giving him any attention in the hopes that he’d give you space, but this was Jack and he knew how far to push someone before relenting.

“You know, usually people thank me for saving their life,” Jack threw out to see what he was working with as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. It was just after four in the afternoon and he had a few hours before he was scheduled for work.

“I’m not grateful.” Yikes. Okay, redirect. “Should’ve left me in that truck as a DNR.”

“Well, I’m going to disagree with you on that one. You held on,”

“Self preservation is a real bastard.”

“You’re telling me.” He tapped his prosthesis on the ground. Jack looked around, taking in their surroundings, and sighed your name. “I’m not here to fight with you or tell you to get your shit together, although I really wish you would.” He said pointedly, “I know why you’re doing it, but you can’t ice everyone out because you don’t want to face it. You can’t ice Robby out. The poor guy is hanging by a thread and the only thing he can worry about is you because you won’t communicate with him.”

“He was supposed to be there, Jack. Right where Leah was.” Oh, no. This wasn’t purely self isolation due to trauma -this was guilt. “I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about it and it is all I can think about.” Jack nodded.

“You uh, you seeing anyone about this? Talking to anyone? If not, I have a therapist. He’s good.”

“I’m talking to you.” You chuckled dryly as you shook your head, looking down at the raw cuticles and skin around your fingernails. It had been picked, scabbed over, then picked again. The skin on the back of your hands was scratched pink and you pulled the sleeves of your zip up down to cover them self consciously, but Jack had already seen the damage.

“I’m not in the realm of qualification that this calls for, kid.” Jack scoffed. “When’s the last time you spoke to Robby?”

“After I was extubated,” Your cell phone sat at home every time you left your house in the two weeks since you made it home, completely disconnected from the outside world. If someone wanted to reach you, they’d have to hunt you down, -and Jack happened to get lucky this time around.

“That’s a long time to leave someone hangin’, ya know?” He didn’t want to reprimand you, just kindly point out that maybe the way you were going about things wasn’t the best. “We’ve all been worried about you.”

“Then maybe he and everyone else should take the hint.” You knew it was mean, ugly, but that was all you felt these days. The kindness you used to run on, the glass half full mindset, was gone. The world was ugly and bitter and darker than it ever was for you, and so you too were ugly and bitter and dark. They were the easiest feelings to wrangle and they didn’t make you think past surface level to something deeper that you didn’t want to dig up.

“You don’t mean that.” Jack said softly.

“No, I do, Jack.” You glared at him. “I just…I want to be left alone. I’m trying to-to maneuver through the pieces of my life and figure out what I’m supposed to be doing or if there’s even a point to any of this anymore.” Jack’s heart clenched. “My entire way of life has been thrown out the fucking window and this is the only way I can deal with it without exploding into a million pieces or biting a fucking bullet.” You started absentmindedly scratching at your hand before you caught yourself by clasping them together. Jack watched it all and kept quiet, letting you get out everything you needed to say.

“One of my best friends was murdered right in front of me.” Your voice cracked, “I was shot, Leah died trying to help me. Jake was shot helping me.” You shook your head, covering your eyes with the palms of your hands. “The band is done. We haven’t talked, but I don’t think I could ever go out on stage again, much less be near a crowd of people, even if I wanted to. Everything we’ve worked for in the last twenty years is gone. Nick’s gone.” Your voice trembled and something across the park held your attention as you spoke. “I’m on edge every second of every day. If I so much as hear a car door slam, my entire body clenches so hard it feels like my ribs are going to break. My anxiety is through the roof to the point that I’m physically manifesting symptoms,” You held up your hands for him to fully see before hiding them away again in your sleeves. “This is as close to hell as you can get without actually being there.”

Jack saw your face fully for the first time since you were intubated in your recovery room. Your mouth was set in an agitated frown, your brows pinched together in irritation. Your face was gaunt and dark, heavy circles weighed under your eyes. You looked absolutely miserable and Jack couldn’t blame you -not when he himself went through something similar when he lost his leg. He was fortunate enough that his late wife was there to pull him out of the depths and back into the world of the living, and he’d be damned if you were left to flounder when you had people who loved and cared about you. Jack would do what he could to help you, and help Robby, before you both fell too far.

PTSD was something Jack was well acquainted with. It was something he worked through, and continued to work through, and he also lost many friends to it who fell through the cracks.

It was your eyes, though, that worried Jack the most. You should’ve been weaned off of the painkillers after your first week out of the hospital, but your pinpoint pupils were telling a different story as they looked over at him, looking but not actually seeing. You were so much worse than Jack could’ve imagined -you were a shell of who you used to be, and if he didn’t hook you and pull you back on board then this could spiral into something so much worse than it already was.

“All I do is walk. I walk and walk around the city from sunrise to sunset because if I just rot inside of my house, Robby is all I see. I see his death over and over in every person I saw that night. I see Leah…and Nick. I see people who didn’t even have a chance to make it, but somehow I did. What made me special, Jack?” Your chin dropped to your chest as you tried to stifle the emotions that were coming out. “Nick had a family -a wife and two kids who will never see their father again. Leah hadn’t even started her life yet. I can’t imagine what her family is going through. They died for nothing, Jack. All of them died for nothing while I’m…here.” You shook your head.

“I wish I had the answer to that. Sometimes it’s just the luck of the draw, I suppose. Some people make it, some don’t. That’s human existence.” You nodded, half listening. “You sleeping at all?” Another shrug from you.

“I have to medicate myself to get the few hours of sleep I’m able to, and the nightmares worm their way in when it starts to wear off, so I get up and walk some more until I’m so tired that I just pass out on the couch for an hour or two. Had I known this is what was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have let them throw me in the back of that truck to begin with. This isn’t a life, Jack. This is just existing.”

“Sometimes existing is the best we can do, but it isn’t forever. Healing takes time, and the mental wounds are oftentimes the hardest burden to carry, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” You looked over to Jack.

“I’m scared of what he’s going to see if I let him in.”

All things considered, had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve known Jack would talk to Robby after your conversation in the park. It just never occurred to you that Robby would be waiting for you when your feet finally brought you back home just after sunset. The way your heart pounded in your chest when you stopped a few houses down nearly made you turn around and head in the opposite direction.

Robby hadn’t seen you yet. There was time to leave and circle back once he’d been sitting out there long enough to call it quits when you didn’t show up. It was tempting, but ultimately it wasn’t fair to Robby. You weren’t punishing him, not on purpose. He didn’t do anything wrong but that didn’t mean you wanted him or anyone else around you. Not while you were like this.

With those thoughts in the forefront of your mind, you stepped forward into his periphery, ready to turn him away.

Robby’s head snapped up from where he was looking down on his phone, and he stood up quickly. He was dressed in his work clothes -cargo pants, black scrub top, and his hospital zip up a little disheveled after working his 12 hour shift. His backpack was sitting on the stoop and he met you at the bottom of the stairs. Robby breathed your name, looking you up and down, taking every bit of you in like he couldn’t believe you were standing before him.

“Go home, Mike.” You shuffled past him and up the stairs. Robby followed quickly behind you, picking up his bag and tailing you up the stairs -his long legs taking them two at a time to keep up with you.

“I came to see you. You don’t answer calls or texts, you don’t-” You stopped mid-step and turned back to look down at him from your vantage point. He caught himself on the railing so he didn’t bump into you.

“I know.” Robby placed his hand on your arm to stop you from turning back around.

“I’m tired, exhausted.” Robby’s voice cracked. His dark eyes were glassy and bloodshot, full of every emotion he harbored. “My tank is empty -has been for over a month, running on fumes I don’t even have and still I have to keep giving. I don’t have a choice.” His voice was growing thick with emotion and you wanted to flee to the safety of your unit, where you could lock yourself behind a door to deal with your own demons. At least they were familiar. “I’ve stopped by here every morning, every single morning since I found out you left the hospital and every night I walk by in the hopes of seeing a glimpse of you in the window. I’ve tried to contact you in every way possible until I realized that whatever I had, you didn’t want and now I don’t know if you ever did.” You felt your right eye twitch.

“Go home, Robby.” Not Mike -Robby. Your voice shook, holding itself on the edge of a blade. “Go home.” You whispered, begging him to leave you in peace, but he didn’t. He took another step up, coming up to eye level with you and held you there with the intensity of his eye contact.

“Not until we hash this out.” You shook your head, pulling away from him.

“I’m not talking about this,”

“Yes we are.” The assertiveness in his voice held no room for argument. “I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time, and now we’re doing this my way because you’re not the only one who’s living in absolute agony because of this, goddamn it!” Robby never raised his voice at you in the nearly three years you were together, not one single time. His tone cemented your feet to the concrete stairs, eyes wide and system shocked.

“You never gave me a chance -not a single fucking chance after you woke up. Do you know what my day was like, how many people died in the ED before PittFest? Kids, teens, the elderly? It was just hit after devastating hit, on top of knowing I disappointed you, and then you pulled up in that fucking truck with Jake and Leah and I thanked God you had a pulse because if you didn’t…” He shook his head, “That would’ve been the end for me.” Robby’s words sat heavy between you. “Never in my wildest fucking dreams did I ever think I’d be mourning you while you were still alive.” Robby made sure you saw the devastation in his eyes and heard the raw hurt in his voice. “You could’ve told me you hated me -at least that would’ve been a reason to do what you did. I could’ve accepted that. I could’ve learned to live with that. At least I would’ve known, you know?”

“Why would I hate you?” Your voice was so small, just above a whisper. Tears were welled in your eyes, yet to fall. The question was stupid because why wouldn’t he think that you hated him? All you did was push and push and push without giving a single reason why, but you didn’t push him away for anything he did. This was purely on you.

“Because I failed so many people that night,” He admitted, a half sob escaping his lips as he tried to hold himself together. “I froze when we wheeled you into the trauma bay. I’ve been working in trauma for twenty-five years and I fucking froze. And if I didn’t, if Jack had taken Leah’s gurney instead of yours I know I would’ve lost you-”

“Stop,” You inhaled deep breaths to stop the wall you had built from toppling over.

“Even when you were in the recovery room, all I saw was the same version of you I saw in the back of that pickup and the blood -all of your blood. All I could think about was that I should’ve been there with you. I should’ve been there and I wasn’t because I couldn’t get out of my own fucking head. It has eaten away at me, day and night, that maybe you wouldn’t have been as worse off as you were and Leah wouldn’t have died because she wouldn’t have been there. It is my fault she was there. It’s my fault that she never made it out of the ED-”

“Stop,” The sob finally broke free, “Please stop,”

“All I wanted to do was hold you, comfort you, love you -to let you know that I was with you every step of your recovery -that we’d do this together. I wanted to physically feel that you were still there, to know that one more person I loved didn’t slip through my hands-”

“Please,” You begged, completely breaking down.

“Tell me to leave and I’ll go.” Robby’s breathing was staggered as tears streamed down his bearded cheeks. “But I’m so fucking tired.” Without another thought, you stepped down and shoved your face into Robby’s chest, sobs muffled by his sweatshirt. His arms instantly wrapped around you, holding you so tightly that there was no space between you.

“Don’t go,” You begged, “Please don’t go.” His chest shook beneath you, his face smashed into your hair. “Don’t go.”

farewell, my friends. if you'd like an epilogue to this, please let me know.

as always, comment & reblog :)

#the pitt #dr robby x reader #dr robby imagine #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction #Michael robinavitch #robby robinavitch #x reader #grief fic

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 1 month ago

Text

Blue Shells and Pillow Wars

Pairing: Poly!141 x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, suggestive flirting, playful violence (pillow fights), food mention, chaotic group dynamics, fluff overload

Author's Note: I think some Mario Kart was long overdue

Summary: A rainy night in, pizza boxes everywhere, and four elite soldiers acting like children over Mario Kart. You thought it’d be relaxing… until the blue shell hit.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The apartment smelled like buttery popcorn and rain.

Outside, the storm clung to the windows in sheets, casting shifting patterns across the ceiling. Inside, warm lamps pooled golden light onto the living room carpet, half-covered in pillows, throw blankets, and the occasional sock. The coffee table was crowded with soda cans, greasy pizza boxes, and a bowl of gummi worms slowly melting together into an unholy mass.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the chaos, controller clutched tight in your hands, heart pounding.

“Who the hell threw that red shell at me?” you demanded, voice sharp over the squeals and chaotic music of Mario Kart 8.

“That’d be me,” Johnny MacTavish—Soap—chirped, lounging sideways on the couch like a smug little gremlin. His bare feet dangled over Price’s lap, and he had a slice of pizza folded in half like a taco.

“You bastard!” you shouted, half-laughing, lunging to toss a couch pillow at him. It hit him square in the face, launching his pizza slice skyward in slow motion. Kyle—Gaz—who was perched on the arm of the couch beside him, snatched it out of mid-air with one hand.

“No food left behind,” Gaz said solemnly, biting into it with a victorious crunch.

Price chuckled low from his spot in the center of the couch, where he sat like a benevolent king in sweatpants, controller resting on one knee, his other hand wrapped around a beer. “You’re all bloody children.”

“And you suck at drifting,” Soap fired back.

“Oi,” Price muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t forget who pays for your bloody Nintendo Online subscription.”

You smirked at that and elbowed Soap in the leg.

Simon—Ghost—sat beside you on the floor, long legs stretched out, broad back braced against the ottoman. He was the calmest of the group by far, but the death grip he had on his controller told a different story. His in-game character—Donkey Kong in a baby buggy—was currently in second place.

You?

Clinging to first by a thread.

“Ghost,” you warned him, “don’t you dare use that shell.”

He didn’t answer—just tilted his head slightly. That unreadable little smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Simon,” you said more sharply, “I swear—”

Your kart was rounding the final lap of Rainbow Road, stars streaking past in a blur of neon light.

And then it happened.

The blue shell appeared above your head.

“NOOOO—!” You let out a screech, jerking your whole body like that would somehow make your character move faster.

The explosion sent your kart spinning into the void of space.

Ghost—stone-faced—cruised past you in slow motion. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

“I hate you,” you said, flinging your controller into the blanket pile.

Soap laughed so hard he choked on his soda. Gaz actually fell off the armrest, dragging a throw blanket with him.

Price leaned over and plucked your controller out of the cushions. “Game’s still on,” he murmured, nudging your shoulder. “One more round?”

You turned to him, your mouth a grim line. “It’s personal now.”

He looked far too pleased with himself.

—

Half an hour later, the living room had devolved into full anarchy.

Gaz had two joy-cons taped together with electrical tape from the junk drawer. Soap was on his stomach under the coffee table with a bag of Doritos and three water bottles he refused to share. You were squished between Ghost’s legs, leaning back against his chest like a human stress ball, because Ghost was apparently a very physical gamer.

“Get in front of me, love,” he whispered in your ear, a hand squeezing your thigh. “I’ll shield you from incoming fire.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you hissed.

“Yeah, and it worked,” he said smugly, even though it definitely hadn’t.

Behind you, you could feel the rumble of his quiet laugh in his chest.

Price had switched to Waluigi and was absolutely dominating, expression calm, focused, like he was planning a covert op instead of gunning down his teammates with green shells. When he drifted around a corner and used a mushroom boost to cut across the grass, you knew he’d spent too much time on YouTube tutorials.

“You’ve practiced,” Gaz accused.

Price raised one eyebrow. “I prepare for all missions.”

Soap burst out laughing. “You’re such a dad.”

“I am your daddy,” Price said with a wink.

Everyone groaned in unison, including Ghost, who murmured, “I’m muting him.”

—

Eventually, victory was declared.

Price took home the trophy, you managed a hard-earned second, and Soap swore vengeance on Rainbow Road.

The room slowly quieted into that cozy kind of mess you only get after hours of laughter and snacks and teasing. You lay stretched across the floor with your head in Ghost’s lap, his big hand absently tracing patterns on your hip. Gaz was half-asleep with his head on your stomach, one hand still clutching the Dorito bag. Soap was nestled under a pile of throw blankets like a gremlin in hibernation.

Price passed out pillows and turned off the TV, the room dimming to the soft glow of stormlight and the warm flicker of the electric fireplace.

You sighed, nestling deeper into the blanket pile, surrounded by the weight and warmth of all of them. It was messy, chaotic, loud—but it was home.

Ghost brushed a strand of hair from your face and whispered, “Still mad I blew you up?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “You’re sleeping on the floor.”

He smirked. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it.”

A pause. Then he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Worth it.”

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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luveline · 11 months ago

Note

you asked for marauders so how about rockstar!sirius? i love a good reunion fic

He’s sitting at the back of a dimly lit restaurant with friends. One you recognise, Remus, but the rest you’re unsure of. Sirius has the remarkable ability to make friends in every city of every country and in each continent; you can’t possibly keep track of them all. You can barely keep track of him, though he tries his best to tell you.

Going to a restaurant tonight called The Lucky Rabbit for dinner, Remus says they have rocky road? Seems a bit shit. Love you, see you in sixteen days

You get a message in similar fashion each night, the days until you’ll see one another counting steadily down. There are days where you don’t get much more than that, he’s got a hate-hate relationship with his phone, and while you don’t blame him, you miss him.

He calls you most mornings, at least. Yesterday’s had been particularly sweet, because Sirius was sweet, and he doesn’t tend to be, not when you’re out of arms reach.

“I wish I could see you,” he’d said, something muffled about his voice as though he’d been speaking with his lips to his pillow, “wish you were here. I don’t know… I miss you a lot. I didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

It used to be terrifying when he’d say stuff like that. Your famous boyfriend, confessing affection down the line to a total loser with nothing to give him. Now it just makes you want to kiss it better.

You text Remus quickly to ensure that it’s a good time. Hi, I’m at the door.

He pulls out his phone and grins. I won’t look in case I give you away. Do you need me to take some of the boys?

That would be nice, but, Maybe you can drag him out for a cig? you text. I’ll wait in the smokers area?

No problem

You rush for smokers' hutch and sit alone on a bench under a fabric covering. It’s the evening, shoes shiny in the dark, the winter cold nipping your fingers as you cross your arms around yourself.

“Sorry,” you hear Sirius say, far away, getting closer, “I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“You’ve never had to try very hard.”

“Funny. Can I have one of those before I go blind?”

“You can’t be that desperate,” Remus laughs.

“I can’t have what I’m actually craving,” Sirius says, a twist of feigned drama, just the tiniest smidge of genuineness somewhere threaded within as they make their way onto the veranda. “I didn’t know you could miss somebody like this.”

It’s really sweet, and you’re usually more awkward, but for once you get it right. “Welcome to my world,” you say. No malice nor snark, you don’t have it in you when you’re with him, but certainly some irony.

Sirius turns his head fast enough to make you wince.

“I miss you like that every week,” you further.

“No way?” He grins at you, fully grins at you, the goofy kind he’d normally only share with you when you’re in bed together and he’s forgotten to hide it. “Aw, baby, no way.”

You’re swept up before you know it. He practically collapses into you, squeezing you, apologies whispered frantically into your ear as he stands and drags you with him. You hardly remember to stand, feeling at the slope of his back and the starched fabric of his jacket, assuring yourself that he’s really in your arms as you hug.

“No way,” he says a third time, “what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve picked you up.” Your spine creaks under his squeezing.

He leans back. You follow him, not willing to part just yet. “I told Remus,” you explain.

“Bastard.”

“Should I go back in?” Remus asks.

You’d say yes, because you’re not overly fond of being seen in love, but Sirius doesn’t answer, and then neither of you can as he takes your face into two hands to kiss you grandly. His smile is a rigid line against your lips, so wide you can feel his teeth as he struggles to keep a plain expression and kiss you as he wants to. Your back sags in relief.

“Sweetheart,” he says, pulling away abruptly, “you must be so tired. Are you hungry?” His hands fall softly down your face to your shoulders. “Thank you for coming.”

You startle. “You’re welcome, it’s– it was selfish, not totally for you, I missed you too much to wait two more weeks.”

“Two weeks and two days,” he says.

“That’s contrary,” you tease lightly.

“No, the two days makes a fucking difference.” Sirius puts his arm behind your shoulder and turns you to Remus, almost like he’s showing you off. He opens his mouth to speak, but he loses the words, dropping his face to give you a kiss tight to your chin.

It tickles. When you laugh, he does it again.

“Fuck, I’m glad you’re here. I was starting to lose it.”

“You could’ve asked me to come,” you say, beginning to trudge in time with him toward the restaurant doors.

“Will you come with me for a bit?” he asks.

Will you follow your lovely boyfriend for a bit on his nice tour eating good food and watching him at his best from the side stage? You tip your head to the side to ask for another ticklish kiss, which is enough answer for him.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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halsteadlover · 9 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Reader is a nurse and while she’s on duty someone man from the or goes crazy because he wants to be threaded immediately and she tries to calm him down, but he loses his mind and with a pocket knife he has he accidentally hurts her cutting her on her face after which he’s escorted out by the security. Connor and reader are together and as soon as he hears about the incident, he run to her all worried. He cleans her wound.

• Warnings: brief mention of blood, wounds, use of knife, curse words, let me know if I missed something.

• Word count: 3453.

• A/N: it’s been a while since I post and I hate how this turned out bye, please have mercy on me, university is kicking my ass and I have to study for my last exams so I’m trying to write something between lunch break and during the evening. I know it’s not so good 😭 but beside that I missed you all so much, I hope you’re all aright ❤️

A sudden noise caught your attention, making you turn your head towards the entrance of the ER.

The morning seemed relatively quiet, there were patients in the waiting room, doctors and nurses doing their normal work.

You looked around before heading towards the waiting room where you had heard the commotion and noticed a man standing in the middle of the room, a pocket knife in his hand that he was waving vehemently. He was completely out of his mind.

“I want a doctor! Now!” He shouted while all the other terrified patients started running away..

“Sir, put that knife down! Right now!” exclaimed the security guard.

“I’m fucking sick! I want a doctor right now or I’ll kill you all!”

“Sir please,” you spoke in a calm and gentle tone, taking small steps towards him, your hands clearly visible to show him you weren’t a threat, that you wouldn’t do anything to him.

“Y/Ln please stay back, I’ll take care of this,” the guard spoke but you didn’t listen. You couldn’t just turn around and walk away as if nothing was happening.

“I’m a nurse,” you continued while keeping your gaze on the enraged man, “How about you put the knife down and I call a doctor right now? You could come with me to one of the rooms while a doctor comes to examine you.”

“Stay back you bitch! I want a doctor now!” he shouted even louder than before and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Despite your outward calm, your heart was pounding with fear, especially when the man continued to wave that knife around like it was a toy. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the last patient had run away.

“Sir, can you tell me your name please?” You continued. “Do you have your medical records with you so we can take a look at it?”

He approached you in a threatening manner and you spontaneously took a few steps back before the guard stood in front of you to protect you.

“I just called the police, you have five minutes to leave or I will have you arrested immediately.”

At those words the man seemed to get even angrier, something you hadn’t even thought was possible. You let out a scream as the man threw himself on Dave – the guard – who was taken by surprise and got hit.

You only realized what had happened afterwards. Only when you saw Dave’s white uniform shirt turn red you realized he had been stabbed.

You didn’t know what was going through your mind at that moment. You only knew you wanted to get that man off of Dave.

You lunged at him, trying to grab the knife from his hand, which allowed the attacker to take his attention off Dave for a moment, though to your detriment, since it ended up on you.

You screamed as he fell on top of you. Your hands tried to keep his arm away from you but you couldn’t stop him from cutting your cheek.

It burned like a motherfucker but it wasn’t the time to think about the pain, not when that bastard was about to kill you.

“Hey! Get off her!” You heard voices shouting and mentally sighed in relief when you no longer felt his weight on your body. You immediately moved away from him, sliding further back on the floor as you sat up, only to see Will and other doctors and nurses holding the man down and injecting what you assumed was a sedative into his arm.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Y/n! Oh god are you okay?” Will asks immediately after walking over to you and helping you up.

You nodded. “Dave… He was stabbed…”

“They already brought him in. He’s on his way to the OR.”

You looked over to where the guard had been lying and only then you realized he was indeed gone. When had they taken him away?

“Are you okay? You hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Will’s eyes widened as he focused on your cheek. “Shit, you’re not fine. He cut your face.”

You touched your cheek and when you looked at your blood-stained fingertips, you remembered that he had actually hit you.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

“Rhodes is going to lose his shit,” Will muttered in a low voice as he looked at your wound. “Come on, I’ll disinfect it. It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches.”

But Will was right.

Connor really lost his shit.

After years it was no secret you two were together. Everyone knew how protective he was of you and this had often sparked jokes, pranks and teasing from your friends who did nothing but mock him for his overprotectiveness.

He was in the OR closing up a patient after a routine surgery when he heard the interns murmuring something.

“What are you whispering about?” He asked, not being able to make out what they were saying.

“Uhm…” One of them cleared their throat, “We heard there was an attack in the ER, a man with a knife went nuts.”

Connor’s eyes immediately snapped to them, the forceps and suture in his hand frozen, almost about to fall, and even though most of his face was obscured by his mask, his eyes quickly showed his emotions.

His first thought was you.

He knew you were on duty that morning and he couldn’t help but let his nerves heat up.

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his hands steady as he finished stitching up the patient. There was no need to freak out. You were fine, if anything happened someone would’ve called him.

“I don’t know how many people, I just heard that a security guard was injured but they’re already treating him, he should be in surgery right now.”

Connor nodded, his throat tight as he concentrated on finishing the surgery. He tried to keep his focus solely on the patient because even though the surgery was almost over, the patient deserved nothing less than one hundred percent of his attention. He couldn’t afford to be distracted since complications were always around the corner.

“Someone page Nurse Y/Ln,” he ordered, his eyes on the patient as he stitched even though his mind was racing. He needed to hear your voice, to know you were really fine.

No one answered and there was a moment of silence. It was only a moment but to him it felt like an eternity.

“Now!” He raised his voice, letting the anger, worry, and crippling anxiety he was feeling shine through.

“Dr. Rhodes, we already tried to page her but she’s not answering,” a nurse said fearfully, terrified of his reaction.

“Fuck,” he cursed through gritted teeth. “Someone go find her then instead of standing there like idiots!”

Everyone exchanged a look and the intern who had spoken earlier immediately left the OR, running towards the emergency room. The entire hospital knew how much he doted on you, how he lived for you only, how much he loved you, how crazy he was for you, so they were all holding their breath while waiting for some kind of update.

Silence reigned in the OR, Connor didn’t bother to show the residents what he was doing, he just kept stitching the patient.

His voice was flat, almost like a robot, his hands was steady, his back straight, but only he knew how anxiety was twisting his stomach almost making him threw up. “Keep page her, I want to know where the hell my fiancée is!” was all he exclaimed.

“Nothing yet, doctor.”

“Dr. Blake went to check and he’ll be here shortly, but just take a breath, everything will be fine,” a nurse allowed herself to say and he looked up to glare at her.

“That’s my fiancée we’re talking about, my future wife, it’ll be fine only when I hear from her,” he spat venomously and she nodded – not wanting to contradict him when he wasn’t thinking clearly – before he turned his attention back to the patient.

He hated this situation.

He wasn’t giving his full attention to the surgery and he hated that.

Please god let her be okay.

Only five minutes had passed since the intern had left but to him it seemed like years went by and only when he saw him return he momentarily breathed a sigh of relief.

Everyone’s faces were covered by masks but Connor only had to look into the intern’s eyes, even if only for a couple of seconds, to understand the news weren’t as good as he had hoped. He knew that look, he had used it hundreds of thousands of times to communicate unpleasant news to the patient’ families.

“Where is she?” he asked abruptly, alternating his gaze between the intern and the patient.

“She’s fine sir, doctor... She...” he paused briefly and sighed, “She was slightly hurt, but she’s fine, I swear she’s fine... She’s alert and only has a small wound. She asked me to tell you to stay calm and just focus on the surgery…”

But Connor didn’t hear anything that resident said except those three words.

She was hurt.

You had been hurt.

“Fucking hell.”

“The attacker has been sedated and handcuffed to the bed and they’re waiting for the cops,” he continued, trying somehow to reassure Connor. “Dr. Rhodes, seriously, it’s just a small graze I saw it and she’s fine you understand? She’s fine.”

He didn’t answer.

He was silent for the rest of the surgery, not saying a single word.

But as soon as he was out of the OR, Connor literally flew to the emergency room, his cap still in his hand.

He needed to see you, he needed to know you were actually fine.

“April, where’s Y/n?” he asked as soon as he got to the nurses' station.

“She’s okay, Dr. Rhodes...”

“Where the hell is my fiancée?!” He cut her off abruptly, raising his voice and not even letting her finish her sentence. He didn’t mean to be rude but he was out of his mind in that moment and didn’t care about anything or anyone that weren’t you.

She pointed to trauma room one and he ran there before she could say or do anything else. He jerked the closed curtain open and his heart stopped when he saw you sitting on the bed.

“Baby…” he breathed out as if he had taken a breath of oxygen for the first time after hours when he realized – even if it took him too many endless seconds in his opinion – that you were actually fine, you were awake, alert and looking at him with a scared expression.

“Connor, baby, I’m…” you started but it was as if he was in a state of shock. Connor seemed to have realized that Will was there only after endless moments and that he was taking care of the wound on your face.

“Will, I’ll take care of it now, thanks,” he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. Will nodded, realizing it was time to leave the two of you alone, and tossed away the gauze he was using to clean your wound before leaving the room, closing the curtain again.

“Baby I swear I’m fine, it’s just a little scratch…”

He came closer and before he could say something his arms were already around your body and he was holding you close to his chest. He hugged you so tightly as if it was the first time in years that he saw you again.

He felt your arms return his hug, rest on his back and caress him gently and it was only then that he had finally regained some sense.

You were fine, you were really fine.

You were hugging him.

But he was about to collapse on the ground, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Who did this to you?” he whispered while his lips print kisses at the top of your head, deeply inhaling the scent of your shampoo as if it was oxygen and he had been deprived of it.

“I don’t know who that man was. He just… He really was out of his mind, he wanted immediate care and he wouldn’t listen to anyone. Everyone run away. We tried to calm him down but he had a knife… Dave was hurt…” you finished the last sentence with a sob, bursting into tears there in Connor’s arms, your lifeline and right that second, as he held you, you knew everything would be alright.

“Where is he? I’ll kill that son of a bitch with my own hands,” he furiously retorted and started to move away from you but you held him back by his uniform. “No, no, no please baby… Please don’t leave me, stay here with me.”

You looked at him with those big eyes of yours, filled with tears, a destroyed expression on your face and Connor held you again, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to stay calm and not go crazy.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you okay? I’m here with you. It’s okay my love, you’re okay, Dave also will be okay too,” he kept whispering as you cried in his arms.

“I was so… I was so scared…”

His heart tightened with pain as he heard your voice broken by tears. Very few other times in his life he had been so angry and all of those the times were about his father or something that had happened to you.

“I know baby but it’s over, you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you again you hear me? You’re safe,” he kept whispering, trying to keep a sweet and calm tone even though he was shaking so much he was about to have a seizure.

He couldn’t even imagine what you felt in those moments, how scared you felt but despite this tried to stop the attacker. He hated knowing all this was happening a few steps away from him, he hated he hadn’t been there to protect you.

God only knew how he would’ve killed anyone on this planet just to prevent a single scratch from scarring you.

He pulled away from the hug and literally felt his stomach twist on itself when he saw the cut on your cheek. He stroked your hair gently, trying to calm you down.

“You were so good and so brave, I’m so proud of you baby you know that right?” He kissed your forehead, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked into your tear-filled eyes.

You nodded.

“But I’d rather you let someone else with experience do this job okay? I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, please promise me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed your forehead again, his eyes closed for a moment and stayed in that position for a while as if trying to convince himself it wasn’t just a dream.

“Now, let me take care of your wound is it okay?” He continued and you nodded. He disinfected his hands and put on some gloves.

He tried to stop his fingers from shaking but he couldn’t, he tried to convince himself it was over but he just couldn’t. It was as if his mind couldn’t really thinking about anything that wasn’t the fact he really risked to lose you, that you might’ve been in Dave’s place, that son of a bitch might’ve taken away from him.

He took a deep breath, turning his back to you so as not to make you worry even more than you already were.

Connor approached you again and gently took your face in one hand, turning your head slightly so he could observe the wound. Luckily it wasn’t deep, it didn’t even need stitches, but that didn’t make him feel any better. It was just a reminder he wasn’t there to protect you.

“It’s going to sting a little.”

“I know baby, don’t worry.”

He could feel your eyes on him as he tried to stay focused and disinfect your cheek, but he didn’t look back, he knew he’d break down and you didn’t need that after what you went through.

His free hand rested on your healthy cheek as he drew imaginary circles on your skin, completely involuntarily.

“Baby?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re shaking,” you whispered.

He let out a small sigh before sightly stepping away and turning his back to you. His fingers were shaking and he felt terribly guilty for being the one to have that reaction, because you were the one in that horrible situation, you were the one who had faced that crazy guy and you were the one who got hurt.

But he was the one who was at risk of losing you and the thought of it took the air from his lungs, it made him unable to breathe.

Was it dramatic? Probably yes. But he didn’t care. Knowing something had happened to you was destroying him.

“Baby, hey, talk to me.”

Your sweet and gentle tone made his eyes fill with tears, but he didn’t want to cry, not right there in front of you. He felt your fingers curl around his, as if to encourage him to turn towards you again.

“C’mon, look at me,” you spoke again when he continued to pretend to look and analyze your wound.

He then met your eyes, full of concern, and he couldn’t hold back any longer, letting a tear escape down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be the one crying,” he tried to ease the tension. His heart exploded when you smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped with your thumb.

“Look at me carefully, okay?” You urged. “I’m fine, love, nothing happened…”

“I know, I know,” he smiled through silent tears, “But it literally hurts my heart to know you are in danger, even if it’s just for a second. God baby, you really don’t understand how much my existence depends on you, how much I would give my life just for you to be safe. I would die if anything happened to you and…” He sniffed. “T-the fact I wasn’t there to help you and protect you… It makes me feel so sick I can’t breathe.” He put a hand on his chest, right there where it hurt so bad. You put your hand on his as the other one continued to wipe away his tears. “I was so fucking scared.”

In response you tugged at the collar of his uniform and kissed him, both of you tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I love you so much Connor, god, I love you so fucking much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered against his lips and he kissed you again till both of you couldn’t breathe, before pulling away and hugging you again.

“I love you so much more.” Connor rested his cheek at the top of your head as he held you, constantly leaving kisses on your hair and being especially careful not to touch your bruised cheek. “I swear, I will lock you in a cellar and throw away the key for all the heart attacks you give me. How the hell do you always end up in these situations?”

You let out a small laugh, relieved that he had calmed down. “Faults of being an ER nurse, you always meet crazy people.”

“Well I’ll ask to change your department. How about gynecology? Oh wait, dermatology is even better.”

You pulled away from him, tilting your head slightly so you could look him in the face. “I know you would never do that.”

He sighed, stroking your hair and drying the tears on your face. “No, but locking yourself in a cellar? Absolutely, I can’t die of a heart attack before I’m forty.”

“Look at you Dr. Rhodes, so worried about your fiancée.”

He gave you a fake glare. “I don’t play about you baby, I think I scared the crap out of the surgical team, they probably think I’m batshit crazy now. Worrying about you is an understatement.”

You giggle, imagining the way he was barking orders and shouting in the OR. “You’re really the best thing that has ever happened to me you know that right? I’m so glad I can always count on you.”

“Always baby, I’m always with you.” He smiled softly before kissing the tip of you nose. “How about we put a band-aid on this so we can get out of here?” He then kissed your forehead and you smiled again.

“Get out of here? But our shift isn’t over yet.”

“I’m sure Goodwin will understand the circumstances, I have no other scheduled surgeries and if they need a surgeon, Dr. Latham is available. I just want to go home and hold you until you’re out of breath. Plus you’re still shaking and I want you to rest.”

You slightly smiled again and nodded, without even thinking about it twice. “I’m in, Dr. Rhodes.”

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