#total stranger turns out to be injured

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

hcs: going on a chase (twisters)

ft. boone gabi, javi, kate, lily, scott, and tyler (addy was barely in the movie but let me know if y'all want me to write about her too - i'm totally down! just not sure if anyone is interested)

content warning for tornadoes, imminent danger

divider credit to saradika!

boone

boone is probably the most fun person to go on a chase with! he definitely has a lot of fun with what he's doing and likes to try new things, he'll always keep you entertained.

he's very energetic, so he might get a little overexcited and tease you if you get nervous during it

but, if you genuinely are in danger or terrified of the chase, he'll stop teasing and make sure that you're doing okay. his personality can come off as a bit much sometimes, but it's so clear that he cares

boone for sure gets a look in his eyes during a chase - no matter how many times he's gone on one, he's still in awe of it

also, if it's your first time going on a chase with him, he's going to go all out to impress you

and i mean all out

he's going to make sure that there are rockets and fireworks, he's going to sing and blast music, and he's going to act incredibly confident even if he feels a little bit nervous (most of his nerves are coming from the fact that he wants to impress you)

even with how overzealous he gets, you're still going to be a top priority for him. if you somehow get hurt, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure that you recover

maybe, a bit too much! he'll try to keep you out of chases for a little while over a scratch, but when you finally convince him that you're fine, he'll praise how strong and independent you are

after chases, too, if there are any people to help in a wrecked town he's going to be the one that tries to make the people smile. in turn, your spirits are going to be lifted quite a bit from sticking by his side

gabi

the first thing about gabi going on a chase is that she's for sure going to give you her hat for 'good luck'. in theory, she could buy you a hat (and probably has) but she thinks that it's better luck for you and for the case if you're wearing her hat

every time, she's going to take a moment to make sure that she places her hat atop your head and adjusts it to make sure that it's not covering your eyes

she's also somewhat protective. even though she's been around the bush with chasing, and she knows that the team is doing everything in their power to keep things as safe as possible, things can go wrong. she'll blame herself if anything happens to you, so she makes sure to do her best to keep you safe.

that can include something as simple as putting her arm in front of you, to buckling you into your harness yourself. or, it can be something like her refusing to let you go in a car without her because she's not comfortable with you being out of her sight

if you are, for whatever reason, in a different vehicle during a chase, she's going to make sure that you're safe the moment that you're away from the action.

she also hypes you up! if you make a prediction about something, she's going to make sure that everyone listens and that she supports you!

if you make a mistake, she'll comfort you and let you know that everyone on the team has done so. she's made mistakes, even tyler has made mistakes. gabi will ensure that, no matter what, you know that you did nothing wrong.

if you're right, well nobody will ever hear the end of it. she's going to make sure that you get to speak again, that everyone thanks you, even if strangers know that it was you who predicted something, she's gonna tell them too. she'll make you feel like the smartest person in the world.

she's also so sweet when helping towns and victims of tornadoes recover. somehow, around as sweet as she is with you.

if you get injured, she'll quite literally nurse you back to health. she'll insist you go to the hospital for anything worse than a bruise, but she might be even a bit more concerned for your health than you are.

bonus, she'll tease you if you hold her hand during it but secretly she very much enjoys it.

javi

having previously lost three close friends to tornado chasing, javi is often worried about you. however, his perspective is a bit different than the others.

he stayed back to collect data when he lost his friends, and that arguably saved his life. but, he also remembers how terrifying not knowing was, and he doesn't want you to feel that. so, he agrees but makes sure that you stay with him so neither of you feel that anxiety.

going on chases with javi, he makes sure that his vehicle is equipped with anything he may need to keep you safe. whether that be investing more on more secure seatbelts, making sure that the glass is as reinforced as possible, or simply keeping an eye on you.

there is always a somewhat distracting air about how he feels after a chase if it effects other people, because it's clear that he wants to do more and feels like he can't. you often end up trying to comfort him after a chase, especially because you know that he already lives with a lot of guilt.

if you get hurt, there are some issues beyond his worry that comes along with it.

scott doesn't think it's that big a deal, and gets especially upset if it gets in the way of data collection. but javi will do everything in his power to not lose any more people that he loves. he'll take any amount of heat if it means making sure that you're safe - he'd ultimately rather put his funding in danger if it means that he doesn't lose you.

when things go well, and he doesn't need any comfort, you always feel like the ending of the chases are the best part. his wide smile, his bright eyes, the way that he looks at you if indescribable, but it makes your heart feel so warm

kate

there are two versions of chase kate - pre-losing her friends kate is a totally different person to chase with. for this, i'll be focusing on post-trauma kate.

kate is protective to a fault. she really doesn't even want you going on a chase, even though you insist that you're going to be okay. ultimately, you understand why she's so apprehensive and let her find peace with the idea herself. she needs to be the one to invite you on a chase, and she ends up coming around to the idea of it after a while of contemplation.

kate will make sure that you know exactly how to stay safe. what to do if the car flips, what to do if the tornado is stronger than expected, what to do in the event of you not being able to see through the rain, or hail, or any other event that could take you by surprise.

she's incredibly thorough, but you understand why. she doesn't want to lose anyone else because of these things.

seeing her in her element is absolutely beautiful, though. you always knew that she had a gift, but you had never been able to see it up close and personal. finally being able to see it, to see the awestruck look in her eyes, makes you wish that you could go on a million chases with her.

seeing her smile afterwards, knowing that she's made a difference in some way and that you're both safe, is also a beautiful experience. her smile is like sunshine and rainbows to you, especially after witnessing a tornado first-hand.

kate being able to go on chases with you is therapeutic for her too, after she gets past the initial fear. but, if you do get hurt in some way, she's going to be incredibly worried for you. though you understood the risks, as she did, she also can't help but think back. it'll take some convincing to let you back with her on a chase, but she ultimately does end up feeling more comfortable with you close to her during a storm than away from her.

lily

like boone, lily can be a little eccentric at times. she says things that can make you laugh even during the worst situations, and she always sticks her neck out to make sure that you're safe

granted, she might be more nervous than anyone else to go on a chase with you. the first time you ask her to take you on a chase, she's going to be apprehensive. i doubt she'll even be the deciding factor, it will probably be boone or gabi who convinces her that you're going to be okay.

seeing her during chases is always fun, though. hearing her crack little jokes that make nobody but you laugh, watching her in her element, speaking so expertly about the weather, is something that makes your heart feel warm.

she's going to keep you close, too. even though she won't insist that you ride with her, she prefers it when you do. she likes to keep an eye on you, sure, but she also just loves having you physically close.

holding your hand, wrapping an arm around you, letting you rest your head on her shoulder until you see the tornado and after you're out of harms way. she likes having you close to begin with, but it gives her a bit more confidence than she otherwise would have.

also, having you on camera holding her hand when she can naturally be a little awkward in front of the camera? it relaxes her, even though you're both still on the edge of your seat because of the work that you're doing.

lily does tend to be protective - naturally - but she's a little more shy about it so she doesn't always express it. she doesn't want you to feel overwhelmed, so you often reassure her that you don't mind if she's a little protective.

in the event of you getting hurt, she'll do everything she can to make sure that you get to a medical professional and that you're tended to in the meantime. though, i think she enjoys patching you up herself sometimes.

scott

this man will tell you straight to your face that he doesn't care if you get hurt if you ask him about it, and honestly, he probably believes that he's telling the truth.

he's going to spend most of the time worried about the numbers, worried about money and absolutely nothing else. he doesn't even seem awfully invested in the weather or storms, so much as he is in the dollar signs associated with them.

when you go on a chase with him, you don't often enjoy it at first because he can come off as so emotionless and because he really doesn't seem all that bothered by the idea of you not making it back.

things change when something actually does go wrong. if a storm is stronger than usual, he's going to be a little bit on edge. he's worried about himself, sure, but he's making sure every other second that you're not hurt and that you're alive. for someone who doesn't care, he certainly comes across like he does.

if you end up injured, he's going to insist that you never go on a chase again, and will only change his mind after you've recovered. but, after that, chases are different because not only do you know that he cares if you're hurt, but he also has found out that he cares if you're hurt.

he'll become almost overbearing with how protective he is after that, but you won't be able to be upset about it. after so long of him acting like he doesn't care at all, it's nice to have concrete proof that he'd be upset if something happened to you.

he also insists that you ride with him. he doesn't trust anyone else to keep you safe after the incident, even if it happened when he was around. he isn't going to let anyone put your life in harm's way, so he insists that you're with him at all times.

tyler

tyler is so fun to go on chases with!

he seems incredibly calm about it, even though you know for a fact that he's still just as scared of tornadoes as he was the first time that he ever saw one.

if it's your first chase, he's going to feel responsible for showing you the ropes and making sure that you know what your doing. meaning: he may as well have a binder of information that he's going to present to you.

it can be hard to forget that he's so educated with how he acts sometimes, but that fun persona is barely there when he's teaching you everything about 'chase safety' and 'what's in the truck' and 'what not to touch' and 'when to get out of the vehicle' and literally everything under the sun. some of these things are just common sense, but he's touching all his bases.

when he knows that you know what you're doing, he brings you along but makes sure that his predictions are a baby tornado. something so small that he knows you're not going to be at risk.

when he eventually lets you level up to bigger tornadoes, you get to see more of his personality. he also, like boone, likes to go all out to impress you. he totally makes sure to stock up on rockets, fireworks, flares, anything that he can really think of so he can impress you and make you smile.

but that's another fun thing about him on chases, he absolutely loves making you smile. he'll say the most out of pocket stuff out of no where just because it makes you laugh.

if you get hurt, he's absolutely petrified and will volunteer to patch up your wounds even if your injury is something as small as you twisting an ankle on the way out of the truck or your knee smacking into the glove box.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Jealous of Joe | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.9k

Juraj's jealous when he sees you with another certain athlete

(sorry for the bad google translate throughout)

You jog down the steps of Nationwide Arena until you're face to face with a wall of glass blocking you from the players on the ice. Your eyes roam the red and white jerseys, finding purchase when they land on the familiar number 20. You look over his figure, studying the way he skates down the ice with ease. He looks like he’s floating, stick down, looking for the puck, focused, perfect. 

You and Juraj Slafkovský have been friends since the minute he was drafted by the Montreal Canadiens. As one of many social media managers, you became best friends with the whole team, finding safe spaces in Cole, Nick, Kirby, Kaiden, Monty, and most importantly, Juraj. 

The first thing you ever bonded over was your mutual knowledge of the Finnish language. The two of you could converse for hours in Finnish and not even realize until another one of the boys finally gains the courage to ask about what you two have been saying. They even tried to use it to their advantage, asking if you understood what he would say in Slovak but you were no use in that department. 

You try to snap yourself out of the trance you were in, looking around the rink to see what kind of media you could create before the game. You’re in the middle of thinking up a new question or tiktok challenge when you feel a presence next to you. 

“They look good,” the stranger says from next to you and you don’t look over as you respond, somewhat hoping the person leaves. 

“Hopefully they keep it up during the game tonight,” you respond, knowing the Hab's tendency for third period strikeouts. 

“You think Caufield will score?” the boy next to you asks and you shrug. 

“It’ll make my job easier if he does,” you joke and the laugh that sounds from next to you is so melodic it has curiosity leading you to turn your head. 

To say you’re shocked by the man standing next to you is an understatement. After working in this league it takes a lot for you to get star struck by an athlete but you’re speechless, jaw dropped open looking at Joe Burrow standing next to you. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt out and the older boy turns to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“I’m Joe,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your back when his hand slides perfectly into yours. 

“(y/n),” you say, still not quite sure that you’re not totally dreaming. “No offense, but what are you doing here?” 

His laugh has you smiling right along with him and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it. 

“I’ve been meaning to come out and see a game for a while, meet the players and so on. I figured since I’m injured,” he takes the moment to lift up a carefully wrapped wrist in front of your eyes. “I would come and check it out.” 

“Well if you’re expecting your fellow Ohioans to win, I apologize in advance,” you say and Joe throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh really?” 

The two of you continue talking, trading jokes and reveling in each other's laughter. You were beyond enjoying the conversation with Joe and you almost forgot about the ongoing practice and job you should be doing. 

Juraj certainly didn’t forget. During practice, a game, in the arena, out of the arena, no matter what Juraj always has an eye on you. The minute you stepped up to the glass during his practice his eye was on you, watching what you were doing, but more importantly, who you ended up talking to. Juraj’s furious and jealous gaze roams your figure, hating the way your head is thrown back in laughter, pink rising to your cheeks at his words, the slight, shy movements he knew all too well. 

At some point his brain must have shut off because suddenly his body is barreling down the ice without a second thought. You’re mid sentence to Joe when a loud bang sounds in front of you and you both jump back in fear. You look up to see Juraj standing there, a sheepish smile on his lips but something different in his eyes. You shoot him a look that conveys the sentence “are you serious right now???” and Juraj waves awkwardly before backing off and skating away. 

“Your boyfriend?” Joe asks and you jump at his voice, forgetting he was there for a moment. 

“No, no,” you say, glancing at him before reverting back to following Juraj’s movements. “Just friends.” 

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out then?” Joe asks and your body fully turns towards him at the question. 

“I can pick you up before the game tonight? I have an empty seat next to me,” he offers and you grin. 

“I’d love to.” 

Juraj spends the rest of practice pissed and all the boys can tell. They’re even playing a game, seeing who can mess with him the most before he truly snaps. 

Nick takes pity on him, the captain skating over to the young player. He follows Juraj’s gaze to where you are and watches as his eyes flame in anger when you smile at Joe. 

“What's up?” Nick asks, vague enough that Juraj can tell him what’s actually going on or he can brush it off. 

“He can fight?” Juraj asks and Nick fully turns to him in shock.

“What?” 

“I’m gonna fight him if he goes out with her,” Juraj says, determination so deep in his eyes that Nick knows he’s not a force to be reckoned with. 

Normally, before games you’re nervous for other reasons. Making sure you have enough content, tweets are loaded and ready to go, photos are edited and stats are ready to be posted. This time, your coworker is taking on those nerves while yours belong to the date you were about to go on. 

You looked over your outfit for what feels like the millionth time and smooth out the canadiens jersey that falls over your body. You were showing up with Joe but still had Juraj’s last name on your back; the irony. Joe knocks on your hotel room door right at 7 and you let out a breath before making your way to the front door. 

You were no stranger to Joe’s pregame outfits but you were shocked out how he could still look so incredibly good even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His smile is blinding and while you know you should be swooning at the sight, you can only think about Juraj’s crooked smile, the way he looks down, not wanting anyone else to see the beauty. 

You and Joe head to the arena, a short drive in his luxury car and he’s nothing but a gentleman the entire time. Your heart flutters from time to time but you’re not sure if it’s because of Joe, or because you're nervous to see Juraj. 

You two take your time getting to your seats, stopping to grab drinks before heading down as the players are finishing warm ups. Juraj thinks he’s safe, that he won’t have to control a temper for the rest of the game but it all falls flat when he sees Joe with an arm slung around your shoulders in the front row. 

“Leave it be,” Nick warns the younger player and he shakes his head, praying his focus turns towards the game. 

The game against the blue jackets is physical, to say the least. The boys are playing like it’s a revenge tour and the game is tied for most of the time. Third period begins and Juraj is firing on all cylinders at this point. He’s finishing his checks, he’s rushing down the ice, he’s doing anything and everything to forget about you and Joe. 

You watch as Juraj digs for the puck, a battle between him and one of the blue jackets players trying to gain possession of the puck. It sails down towards Nick and Juraj lets up, words clearly exchanged between him and the opposer. 

“Careful before I take your girl out next,” the player sneers at Juraj and he’s officially seeing red. 

You watch in slight horror as Juraj slams the player into the boards and fists go flying. The fight must last a quick 20 seconds but feels like a lifetime. You’re on your feet and pressed against the glass as Juraj gets up, a fresh cut on his cheekbone and his hair disheveled and hanging over his now dark eyes. 

 “Holy fuck,” you breathe out, watching as Juraj is escorted down the tunnel and some of the boys are casting glances in your direction. 

“(y/n)?” you’re snapped out of your trance at Joe’s voice and turn to find him with worry and understanding in his gaze. 

“I have to go check on him,” you say and Joe nods. 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek that explains all of his thoughts and feelings. You smile, a bit of sadness laced in the look, before parting and heading straight for the locker room. 

You race down, surprisingly not getting lost as you run and you flash your access badge like your life depends on it. You finally come face to face with the locker room door and you take a deep breath before flinging it open, unable to stay away from Juraj any longer. 

“Kto si, do pekla, myslí, že je? Sedí tam s ním a užíva si každú sekundu!! A ten sráč, ktorý-” Your brain flies a million miles an hour trying desperately to grasp the little Slovak language you know but to no avail. 

“Juraj?” you call and the 6 foot 2 hockey player halts all movements before turning towards you. 

“What are you doing here?” he grinds out, chest heaving trying to catch his breath. 

“I wanted to check on you.” 

“jebať ma,” he mutters angrily. “Go back to your new boyfriend.” 

Juraj was torn clean in half between two sides. One desperately wanting you here, wanting you to stay and talk to him, to explain that Joe meant nothing to you. The other half of him is infuriated, feeling disrespected that you would show up now after flaunting Joe in front of him. 

“What the fuck is your issue?” you snap, taking several steps till you're inches from Juraj’s face. 

“Ježiš Kristus.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Juraj leans down and slams his lips against yours, the kiss lighting you end to end in a fiery passion. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your tip toes and press your chest against his padded one. Your body takes a minute to catch up and when you do, your hands tangle deep into Juraj’s damp strands pulling him close and begging him to never let go. 

Unfortunately, humans need air and the two of you separate, panting heavily for a moment after. You fall back onto your heels and Juraj’s eyes search yours for a moment before speaking again. 

“You’re my issue,” he says and before you can retort he shushes you. “I love you. You walked into my game with my name on your back but your hand holding his.” 

Your eyes stare deep into his, your heart cracking at the idea that Juraj could ever be hurt by your actions. However, it’s filled back up when you remember him admitting that he loves you. 

“Oh minun rakkauteni,” you murmur, pulling him into you again and reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“It’s you baby. It always has been and it always will be,” you promise. 

Juraj grins against you, the moment fleeting but lasting forever. 

[sickfictropes]

Hospital whump where everyone is really injured, including the character with healing magic, but they still pull out their IVs and sneak out of their room to pay everyone a visit and heal them, one by one.

Do they get caught? If they do, how long does it take? How far do they get? Do they get caught right before being able to visit the last person, the one they're the most worried about?

While they're searching the hospital for everyone's rooms, do they get sidetracked? Do they stumble into rooms of people they don't know? Sick or hurt strangers they can't help but heal too? Do they end up spending every drop of energy they have because they can't stand seeing so many people suffering? Or do they turn away, apologetic but knowing they need to stay focused, there are only so many people they can help and they know where their priorities lie?

I don't know I just think there's some potential here

there is totally potential, this is a great scenario!!

maybe they get to the last room and heal their friend, but collapse immediately after. friend wakes up startled, then terrified when they see healer on the ground collapsed, then anger at them for putting themselves last when they realize that their wounds are gone.

i love what you're doing here. unfocused, nonspecific healing that they can't control is a great trope, especially when it means that they exhaust themselves by accidentally healing something or someone that shouldn't be healed. their teammate is angry that the healer heals them all the way back to normal rather than just getting them out of the woods. like was it worth all your energy to make sure you healed every last bruise or scrape??

if they don't heal the team to conserve their magic, maybe their friends don't know that healing takes energy and don't understand why they're just not helping. and/or maybe they're up all night with guilt, so when their teammate gets up for a sip of water because they got that Night Thirst(TM), they're very concerned and upset that the healer isn't sleeping. maybe they're conserving magic energy, but they're certainly not preserving regular energy.

this prompt watered my crops!!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

Thanks for your hard work keeping your system organized! Really helps during my 3AM reading sessions lol.

I was wondering if there are any “and there was only one bed” fanfics for Aziracrow? Thanks!

We have #there was only one bed and #sharing a bed tags, so take a look at those! Here are some more to add...

Away by HopeCoppice (G)

They can command reservations at the Ritz at a moment's notice. They can perform miracles, or the demonic equivalent, for- well, for Somebody's sake. There is absolutely no way that they should ever be able to find themselves in a situation where there is only one bed. And yet.

Welcome to the Petty Party by Mimsynims (E)

Oh fuck. It was him. Crowley tried to make himself smaller where he was sitting in the back of the Greyhound bus. It had been almost a year - and another continent - since he last saw him, but there was no mistaking that blonde fluff of hair or those strong shoulders on the man entering the bus. It was Aziraphale. Fortunately there were very few other passengers, and Aziraphale chose a seat in the middle of the bus, sitting down without spotting Crowley further in the back.  Seeing him now catapulted him back in time, to that fateful night in Birmingham - the one and only time they’d met.   Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves stranded in a motel for the night - sharing a room. Last time they met, they spent the night together. Now they are both - wrongfully - convinced that the other never wanted more than a one night stand. (Basically, this is a "there was only one bed" PWP)

Warmth by HolyCatsAndRabbits (E)

The excitement of spending a day traveling with Crowley had turned to deep embarrassment. Rather than a flight followed by a late dinner somewhere and then a night apart, Aziraphale was cold, wet, hungry, and injured, in the wrong city, and facing a night sharing a room with his secret crush in which there was only one bed. And— Aziraphale looked down at what he was holding. Flannel pajamas, tartan ones. He was going to have to go back out there and face the ever-elegant Crowley in his night clothes.

No Such Thing As An Omen by FeralTuxedo (E)

On a snowy New Year’s Eve, rock star Anthony Crowley arrives at Tadfield Manor Hotel to check into his room. Under a fake name, naturally. But to his dismay, it has already been claimed, and the deceptively angelic impostor with the audacity to have stolen Crowley’s alias as well as his room doesn’t appear to want to vacate it any time soon.

Romancing The Tome by Anti_kate (E)

Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves.

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E)

“Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said. “You what?” “You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.” The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you. After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

- Mod D

[greerbaiting]

Cinderella's Castle and Abuse

Cinderella's Castle is a great representation of how abuse destroys your life and agency and here's why.

Spoilers. Obviously.

Ella knows she's being abused. She knows that her life is in danger, she knows this will probably end in her death, but she cannot escape her abusers. This is a very real situation many abused people find themselves in. It is a lot harder to leave an abuser than you might think. Ella reaches out for help: from someone she used to know, from a total stranger. She is turned down because they don't believe her or have no interest in helping. Specifically they don't believe her because her stepmother has told everyone that she's crazy. This is, again, a very real situation abused people find themselves in. Abusers are very good at manipulating the story and making themselves look like the injured party (Cursed Crazy has a line about how Ella's stepmother must be a saint having to "deal with her"). This is also part of the stepmother isolating Ella: she makes Ella cover herself in dirt and tells everyone she's crazy so Ella has nowhere to turn. Her only contact is with her stepfamily.

Ella's stepmother lets her have something for herself: she lets her friends stay at the house, lets Ella clean the house and herself (keeping up appearances, another part of abuse), and even lets Ella spend time with her friends. This of course is a trap to hurt Ella worse than she already has, making her watch as she brutally kills her friends and then has her stepsisters wear their skin. This of course leads to psychological abuse, as Ella is later abused by people who look like her dear friends.

I also want to note that Ella's friends offer her a chance to escape. She finally has people who believe her when she makes the incredibly brave decision to tell them about the abuse. Because it is incredibly hard to tell someone you're being abused, especially when you have not been believed in the past. But telling her friends puts them in danger, another very real thing that happens with abuse, and part of why many victims don't come forward.

When Ella is finally given a chance to free herself from the abuse and prevent countless others from also being abused it doesn't work. There is such a small thing protecting her from being discovered (keeping her shoes on her feet) and of course she is not able to manage it. Not when her abusers spend so much time still trying to destroy her. And her attempt to escape and near success gets her killed. Again reflecting the reality of many abuse victims. This paves the way for her abusers to abuse others, which is why some victims stay with their abusers ("Better me than someone else" "I can contain their abuse" "They'd be worse without me").

Ella had all her options and agency stripped from her. It takes so much bravery from Ella to escape her abusers. It also takes multiple attempts and support from people who believed her when she said she was being abused. Because it's a fantasy show it also took magic. But it doesn't take magic in real life. Look out for the people in your life. And believe victims when they come forward about abuse. It takes a lot of courage to speak up.

[ohbo-ohno]

in reference to the last Serial Killer!Ghost Captive!Soap ask: first off, HOLY FUCKING CHRIST. Second: I’m already thinking about how a reader may factor in.

Maybe she’s there with her friends, partying it up in the woods by a bonfire, and everyone is too drunk to notice she wanders off after hearing some whimpering from the thicket. She stumbles on Soap, muzzled tight and filthy and frantic and cradling his twisted ankle, and knows something is seriously wrong.

Immediately she drops everything and starts trying to help. She asks him if he’s okay, what happened to him, don’t worry, she’ll get him out of that muzzle. She picks at it with her fingers and nearly gets it off before she hears and FEELS a gunshot whizz right past her head.

Ghost found them. And seeing this precious little thing trying to help his good boy, immediately putting herself in front of him to keep him safe if need be, makes him start to wonder if Johnny could use a friend. And he hoists his rifle again, misses on purpose to make her yelp, and watches her back into a tree while he checks on Johnny. His ankle is fine, just a bit sprained, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. But he’s whining and shaking his head, trying to plead with Ghost through the muzzle not to kill this kind stranger who almost cut him free. He doesn’t want to see her die!! And Ghost turns back to the Reader, trembling against the tree and trying to hide behind her arms, and he comes closer like the menacing brick shithouse he is and she nearly sobs and begs that she’ll do anything, god, just please don’t shoot her!!!!

Maybe Ghost goes and kills all her friends first, comes back to find her still curled up against that tree with Johnny next to her, and she screams when she sees him fucking drenched in blood. Or maybe he takes her home first, puts her and Johnny in a crate together and locks it to make sure they stay out of trouble, and then goes out for blood; maybe he comes back to them dragging the bodies of Reader’s friends and it’s all she can do to keep from passing out. Maybe she gets included in their little chase game later on…

~🦋

someday i'll write my actual serial killer au but it is NOT TODAY so let's indulge in some variances <3 (ask is referencing this post)

i don't usually puppify my reader inserts to the extent that i do soap but holy SHIT if this ask doesn't beg for a puppy reader

ghost hunting his hound down, finds his poor boy injured and what seems to be an equally feral girl standing above him, totally protective :/ even when soap tries to shover her away, she stays crouched in front of him, hardly even flinching at the gun in ghost's arms

and isn't that interesting? this little thing so eager to protect what's his? oh, ghost is hooked immediately. (what's better than one guard dog? two guard dogs!)

manages to finally scare her away from soap with a few well placed bullets, poor thing tries hard as she can not to go skittering away but instinct gets the best of her eventually. she's not quite brave enough to tackle ghost when he gets closer, but he sees her eying his gun. ghost is quick enough checking soap that she doesn't have a chance to try anything

he'd come with a leash for soap (always makes the man crawl back to the car after their little hunts, just to keep him in that puppy headspace so he doesn't start struggling) but doesn't have an extra. good news is, soap is so desperate to keep ghost from killing his new friend, he's perfectly willing to follow without the leash when ghost hooks his collar and leash on the new girl

she doesn't have a muzzle (ghost doesn't have an extra, and none of them would fit her anyway), so he ends up tugging this wriggling and shouting thing along while his pup stays right at his side, providing such a good example for their new pet. ghost is already planning his rewards

he tucks them both into johnny's crate after wrapping the pup's ankle. gives his new girl a bone to chew on (plugs her nose and stuffs the gag between her teeth, tightens it until she growls at him and then ruffles her hair, locks her hands into some paw gloves so she starts to understand what's happening) and covers the crate in a blanket. smiles when johnny looks up at him nervously and his girl tries to cover her fear with anger

takes about an hour to kill & get rid of all her little friends.

and oh how she howls when he comes back home without hosing himself down. she squirms and writhes, kicks johnny's ankle and goes still when he whimpers. ghost can't help but laugh when she taps her forehead to his, an apology. his pups already get along so well, he can't wait to see how she'll fare after a little training

it's about time he got soap a friend, anyways. pups are social creatures, and he knows johnny needs someone to play with when ghost's busy. the new pup showed up at just the right time <3

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Zoro x Fem Reader Japanese mythology AU NSFW! S/O is a selfless and gentle shrine maiden who helps others despite never receiving payment. She’ll help any stranger out, whether it’s cooking for them, offering them a place to stay for the night, healing, etc. Demons often bring havoc to the world and one of S/O’s duties is exorcising them. Sacrifices are often given to the King of Hell to keep the demons at bay, and S/O is chosen as a sacrifice. Could you make S/O a total cinnamon roll too?

OKAY I'M SORRY THIS TOOK FOR FREAKIN EVER. I just kept writing and writing and it turned out to be multi-chapter, and I'm almost done with the whole work, so here's the first bit. I'm not the most impressed with my work in the beginning but maybe eventually I'll edit it. I love this idea so much and RESPECTFULLY on my knees for demon king Zoro 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ I have also never written this au before so thank you for the challenge! (But I LOVE Inuyasha so I was influenced a bit from that)

🍶WC: almost 5k (4,955)

TW's: gore, blood (bleeding and drinking blood), betrayal, drugged (ish?) injuries, pain.

If you can't read the gore/betrayal but still want to read the chapters, there will be a summary at the end. Stop reading at "You dare question our decision, shrine maiden?" and continue after "Oi... up" a deep voice floated through the darkness of your unconsciousness.

Chapter 1: Betrayal and Blood

You wiped the sweat from your brow, huffing. You ran a cloth over the blade, cleaning the dark blood from the metal, shivering at the touch of it. Despite routinely exorcising demons, you could never get over having to slice and injure a living being. You knew those creatures did nothing but evil, but feeling the slice of the blade pierce their bones and flesh... you hated it. You sheathed your sword, looking around you. The demons always faded into black smoke and ash when they died, leaving you, luckily, without a mess to clean up. Well. A body to dispose of. Blood still splashed over the ground, staining it black. You sighed. You needed to purify the blood, lest it spawned into an evil spirit.

You grabbed your blessed water, dousing the blood stains with it. The dirt path turned to mud at your actions, but at least no evilness would linger here. After completing that task, you stretched up, groaning. Your wide, white and red wide sleeves tumbled down to reveal your bare arms to the dark, early morning air. You breathed deeply, satisfied with your work.

The trek back to the temple where you resided was long, but beautiful. You admired the sunrise as it occurred, tired feet stumbling over tree roots or rocks as you watched the sprouting purples, pinks, and oranges that lead to the golden light of morning.

You rounded the final corner to the temple and were surprised to find a figure standing at the front gate. Normally you didn't get visitors, if any, until the afternoon or in the evening. You lived basically in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello? May I help you with something?" you called gently. It wasn't uncommon for weary travelers to seek shelter or warmth, but it was odd it was this early in the morning. They must've been traveling all night. The figure turned at the sound of your voice. A jolt of shock clanged down your spine. A Priest of the High Order. You immediately knelt before him and lowered your forehead to the ground, cushioned by the backs of your hands. Your heart was pounding, mind spinning with surprise. What was one of the highest ranking priests doing here?

"High Priest. May I ask what brings you to this humble establishment?"

"I have heard much about you. Raise your head. Let me look at you" he spoke. You sat up slowly, tilting your head upwards but averting your eyes. Cold fingers gripped your chin, moving your head side to side. He let you go and stepped back.

"Hm. Now open the gate please. It's rather cold this morning and these old bones are aching" he said with a withered smile.

You scrambled up, fumbling in your long robes for the key to the front gate.

"Of course! I can get some tea brewed while I cook a meal. I'm sorry I don't have much, but it will be warm. I have many blankets you may use while you're here as well" you rambled, finally getting the key in the lock and opening the gate. The words came easy to you, having said it to all those who approached your doors in search of shelter. You meant it. You didn't need much at all, only the necessities. You liked living a simple life, but you purchased a variety of clothing, blankets, healing items, and extra food with your pension regularly. You even accepted such donations from the townspeople when you made the trip. All of it was for the travelers or those less well off and in need of such items.

You ushered in the High Priest, closing the gate behind you, and offered your arm for him to grab hold of. The main path lead to a large, beautiful shrine that you were tasked to take care of as a shrine maiden. You lived in the small temple nearby, but the path to the temple could be hazardous with its loose stones and other tripping hazards that lined it- especially to someone with aching bones. Sure, he was a High Priest, but he was also an old man who was aching from the cold. He wrapped a freezing hand around your arm, and you let him guide your pace.

"Please, watch out for that stone. It's a little wobbly" you said, pointing to a stone in the path. The Priest nodded, avoiding it. The two of you reached the front door. You tore off the hidden piece of paper that acted as a ward and slid open the door for your guest.

"Impressive ward" he muttered. You blushed at the praise. It was one you used whenever you had to go out to exorcise a demon. It let those who had pure intentions to look for shelter, food, water, or simply out of innocent curiosity, enter. Those who saw the empty temple as an opportunity for evil or dubious intentions could not get past the path, constantly transported back to the beginning of the walkway when they tried to open the door. Of course, only if they managed to get past the locked gate.

The Priest had entered the temple, removing his shoes and shuffling slowly towards the small hearth sunk into the floor in the middle of the room. You quickly kicked off your own shoes and scrambled to offer him pillows to sit on and multiple blankets. He accepted them graciously, and you helped him sit on the pillows. You quickly started the fire, opening the high, slotted windows to let the smoke flow out, and filled the suspended pot with water. You searched through your food.

You didn't have much, but you could make a simple, filling soup. You grimaced, wishing you had something better to offer the old man, especially since he was held in such regard. While in the closet that housed your cooking supplies and food, you spooned tea leaves into a tea pot and brought it with you to the hearth. You tucked the outer blanket on the priest tighter against his body.

"The water should heat soon for tea. I can make some rice and soup... or... well... I'm sorry, I don't have much more to offer. The demons have been coming through more often, so I haven't had the time to go into town to restock" you said regretfully. The priest studied you for a moment, looking at you with eyes dark with shadows casted by the deep crevices of wrinkles.

"Humph. So they have."

Silence fell between the two of you. You couldn't tell if the priest was thinking or sleeping, but either way, you didn't want to disrupt him. His face was tilted down, eyes on his lap. You shifted your white and red robes, waiting patiently until the water was hot enough to make tea. You gripped the pot with a towel, pouring it into the teapot, and placed it back on the hook hanging from the ceiling. You stood and gathered the ingredients for the soup and rice from the closet, making your way back to the fire rather quickly. The tea was ready, so you served it, pouring the Priest's cup first. You paused to take a sip, reveling in the warmth held in your hands. The priest loudly slurped from his cup.

"Good tea" he said. You smiled.

"Thank you."

You continued to go about preparing the meal, taking care to not let your wide sleeves get caught in the fire. It was done about a quarter of an hour later, during which the priest obviously warmed up if his snoring was any indication to go by.

"High Priest" you said quietly. He awoke with a jolt and a snort, looking at you. You smiled gently.

"The food is ready if you wish to eat"

He grunted, looking at the bowls held in your hands. He took them without comment and began to eat. You settled into your own seat and began eating as well. Hot, filling meals always hit the spot after a night full of exorcising demons. It was easy on the stomach and made you sleepy. It was perfect. The pair of you ate in silence only broken by slurping and chewing. You finished your meal first, and sat quietly as the priest finished his.

"Good food" he commented gruffly. Apparently that was his way of complimenting things. You smiled.

"I'm glad it was to your needs" you replied, taking his bowls. He grunted.

You washed the dishes, humming a small tune under your breath. Before long, you returned to the central area. You took your seat across from the hearth, eyeing the High Priest. He was staring into the fire thoughtfully.

"High Priest?" you said quietly.

"Hm?"

You hesitated a little, but you needed to know.

"It's not that I'm not honored to see you. I am... I just... Why did you come all the way out here?"

His wrinkled eyes flicked up to yours. He sighed.

"There have been reports of you, you know" he started. You cocked your head.

"Reports? Have I been unsatisfactory in any way?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. Your selflessness and dedication is the reason why we kept you out here. We at the High Order know we can trust you. Lately, in cities and rural areas alike there have been reports of corrupt shrine maidens and lower ranking priests and priestesses. It's difficult for us to catch and replace the corrupted who are in rural areas, especially high traffic ones like this.

"Technically, as I'm sure you're aware, slaying and exorcising demons is not part of a shrine maiden's job. But you began doing it without being asked to. I recognize part of your training was learning how to, but that was only for emergencies.

"But getting back to the point, more and more demons have been coming through to our world. They are corrupting us slowly. We need to take drastic action before it is too late."

You sat quietly, listening. You couldn't figure out what exactly you were feeling. The priest sighed.

"We... the high order I mean... decided we need to try a sacrifice"

"A sacrifice?" you questioned, "Why? To who?"

He held a withered hand up to stem your curiosity.

"We need a sacrifice to the Demon King"

Your heart skipped a beat with fear at the name. You swallowed down your reaction, taking a beat to calm yourself as you stared into the fire.

"What will you sacrifice? It would have to be a big one to satisfy the Demon King."

"We have decided the sacrifice will be one of our greatest weapon- a powerful, legendary sword that once belonged to a great demon general. It cannot be wielded by humans, as it brings tragedy quickly to the user."

You nodded in understanding. It would be a blow to the order if the Demon King had a sword that powerful. Rumor was that the current king used more than two swords at the same time. But the sword was at headquarters, not here. You rose your confused gaze to the priest, mouth opening to form a question, but he cut you off.

"I know it's not here. I came here for the other sacrifice."

You blinked. The shrine you protected held a legendary spear, but it wasn't nearly as powerful as the sword the priest was offering to the king. Was that what this was about?

"The spear? It's not nearly as power-"

"You."

You stared at him. Your body felt far away but you felt your heart thudding in your chest.

"M-Me?"

"You."

You took in a shuddering breath. You didn't believe him, but you couldn't exactly question a High Priest's decisions. But you could ask for an explanation.

"Why me? Surely the king of demons would want someone more powerful?"

"You are powerful. You've been our secret weapon for years. You've been spreading goodness to travelers entering our nation, or those coming home. This strengthens them against corruption or possession by demons. You've single handedly been protecting a major road to our country, strengthening those who pass through against demon attacks. At least for a while.

"You also make wards that are beyond the scope of the weakest member of the High Order. We kept you in the dark about this and kept you as a shrine maiden to protect this knowledge from demons."

You stared at him in disbelieving shock. You've simply been doing your job, which you loved doing. You had no idea you were strengthening the people that passed through here against corruption and possession. Sure, you knew the link between state of mind and vulnerability to demons, but never thought that you would be the cause of it.

"So... because of that... I'm a sacrifice?"

"You're a sacrifice to show the Demon King that we're serious about making peace, or at least a truce"

You sat there quietly, a storm whipping your thoughts into a frenzy.

"When?"

"Tonight."

"That's too soon. What about the travelers? They'll come for shelter but won't have food! The town is too far away for people to come restock it with food, blankets and clothing..." You trailed off as a wave of cold power pierced your senses. Your gaze traveled fearfully towards the priest. He stared at you, glaring. His eyes were milky with age, but held the clarity of desperate anger. You flinched.

"You dare question our decision, shrine maiden?" he spat, standing suddenly. All traces of previous frailness was gone, and you even questioned if he was faking before. He took a step towards you threateningly, "You may have power but you will not be of this world soon. You dare question our commitment to those you have fought to protect? Stupid little girl. You're only a sacrifice because we have heard reports of your beauty and kindness. It would be a slap in the face to the King of Demons." Power rolled off him in waves, making you shiver with cold and fright.

Your eyes widened at his harsh words, scooting back in retreat as he approached you. An evil grin twisted his thin lips, wrinkles deepening around his eyes to shadow them.

"Y-You said..." you stuttered. You froze as you felt presences destroying your outer wards.

"I know what I said, girl. Now stand. It's time."

You couldn't move. Your body was frozen with grief, betrayal, and fear. You heard footsteps on the roof and on the porch outside. Surrounded.

"J-just let me write a letter to the townspeople" you managed to whimper. The priest snorted, then spat at your feet.

"I said get up." He started towards you, but the front door slammed open, stopping his movements with the sound.

"Now now. Let's not be hasty. This is an important road. Travelers come through all the time. With this bitch gone, we'd have more possessions on our hands, but the townspeople can take over her work. We'll make sure she won't reveal anything else" the smooth saccharine voice reasoned. You swallowed and peeked around the High Priests robes. A woman leaned against the doorway, picking at her sharp nails. You couldn't see her face with the daylight streaming in from behind her. The priest rolled his eyes and made a face.

"You have one minute" he said, dismissing you. You quickly bolted to your writing supplies stored in the corner of the room. Ink nearly spilled as you hastily unrolled parchment and used the brush to scribble a note. The priest strolled over to you with heavy footsteps.

"That'll do" he said. You stopped writing. It was a simple note, stating that you suddenly had to leave, you weren't sure if you would ever be back, and to please continue to offer weary travelers with food, shelter, clothes, and blankets. You placed the brush down.

You didn't dare look up at the priest, knowing if you did, your expression would betray your emotions. That was a mistake. You missed the priests quick movements leading to a sudden blow to your ribs sent you flying across the room. Searing pain exploded on your side, and you coughed out a groan.

"Don't damage the sacrifice, priest" the woman drawled without sparing you a glance.

"She'll be fine. She fights demons all the time" the old man dismissed. You laid on the floor in shock. Hair covered your face, hiding the tears brimming in your eyes. He walked towards you. "Get up" he spat. Your body followed his instructions, cradling your injured ribs. Your mind was numb, spinning with the betrayal. A hand gripped your hair harshly, and you cried out at the pain. Nails dug into your scalp, drawing blood.

"Let's go. It's time" the woman hissed in your ear. She reeked of tobacco. She dragged your helpless body out of the temple, down the broken path, and hauled you towards the shrine. You held onto her hand gripping her hair, futilely trying to ease the pain in your scalp. She slammed your face into the dirt once she reached the area in front of the shrine.

"Ready?" came another voice from the side of you.

"Yeah. She's bleeding already so just get some blood from her head for it" the woman said casually. You were dizzy. Something scraped through your hair and on your scalp, collecting blood.

"Perfect. Got the demon heart?"

"Right here, my lord."

"Lets start. The power of the morning sun is almost at its peak, and this blasted ceremony takes all day."

Your arms were pulled behind you, and you wriggled in defiance. The last thing you remember was the sound of someone sucking their teeth and the sound of skin on skin.

~~

"With the power of the midday sun... Demon... Shall be..." your head lolled slightly as you heard the words. You moaned a little at the throbbing pain clanging through your body. A hand pried your slack jaw apart before pouring bitter liquid down your throat. You choked, trying to spit it out, but the hand clamped your jaw shut while another massaged your throat. You had no choice but to swallow, before falling back into unconsciousness.

~~

"With the power of the evening sun the Demon King... sacrifice... unto thee". You breathed deeply, wincing as your ribs protested. A guttural moan escaped your chest.

"Damn, again? She should be asleep for two damn days with the amount she's drank" a voice hissed to your left.

"What can you do? She's powerful. It's your turn to open her jaw while I pour" another voice answered on your right. You clenched your jaw. A hand gripped your face, pushing your cheeks against your teeth roughly.

"She's resisting"

"Of course she is! She's awake. Now open her fuckin mouth"

Your jaw finally gave into the pressure, parting your lips and opening your mouth. The last thing you remember was more bitter liquid being poured into your mouth.

~~

"Oi... up" a deep voice floated through the darkness of your unconsciousness.

"OI! Wake up!" Rough hands shook your shoulder, causing shooting pain though your ribs. You let out a sharp sound at the pain.

"Shit. You hurt?"

"Ribs. hurt." you slurred. You blinked open your eyes, but your vision was swimming. You were somehow upright, and you tried to rub your eyes. Your hands were bound behind you with what felt like metal. You groaned, memories slowly coming back to you. Betrayal. Your brow scrunched and you blinked a few times, trying to steady your vision. You were tied to a stake. Hundreds of pieces of paper littered the ground around you, forming a large circle. Each paper had a swirled design on it, but you were too out of it to try to decipher it. Your gaze finally landed on the man in front of you.

Well. Man was a strong word. Green hair, horns, and fangs were all features you catalogued before a new wave of dizziness struck you, making your head fall down.

"Okay let's get you out of here. This has gone on fucking long enough"

Rough hands snapped the metal restraining your wrists, and hauled you into his arms. You at least were conscious enough to know now that this man definitely wasn't human, but he was kind to you. You were also too weak and drugged to fight. He cradled you with one arm under your shoulders and another under your knees. Your head rested against his muscled shoulder.

"Let's go. Luffy- I'm counting on you" you heard and felt the words rumble from his chest. You heard the affirmation from yet another male voice, but black clouded your vision before your eyes found him.

~~

You woke again to bright, white lights. They were floating above the bed, illuminating the small room. Your head hurt and you were groggy, but it was somewhat tolerable. You took a moment to ground yourself, reaching out with your senses. You were laying on something soft, covered with a crisp cotton. A blanket covered you, and a soft pillow supported your head and neck. The walls were made of a white stone. You felt bandages around your torso and head. You tried to sigh, but flinched and grunted at the pain ricocheting in your chest.

"Are you awake?" a child-like voice spoke from beside your bed. You turned your head, scrunching your brow in pait at the pull on the scabs on your scalp. A small, furry creature sat on a high stool. He looked at you with big, dark eyes, a snout protruded slightly from his face, ending with a blue nose. Wide horns erupted from his head, poking through his hat with a white X on it.

You thought you were hallucinating, but it would be rude to not reply.

"Yes"

"Good! How's the pain?"

"Uh. The scabs on my head kind of hurt and I have a headache, and my ribs hurt when I breathe too deep but that's it."

"Hmmm. That's to be expected. The amount of demon blood they made you drink would have put a normal person into a week-long coma. You've only been out for a day. Probably because... uh.." The horned creature trailed off, looking to the side almost bashfully. He hopped off the stool and padded over to the other side of the room, grabbing a strange medical instrument.

"Can I do a checkup?" he asked, hopping back onto the stool. You tried to nod but winced with the movement.

"Sure" you replied quietly.

He pulled back your blankets to your waist, and it was only then did you realize you were not wearing anything on your torso besides the bandages. Your face heated quickly at the immodesty of it, and you instinctively brought your arms up to cover your chest. The creature pulled back, surprised.

"S-sorry. Just. I didn't realize I wasn't wearing anything."

"Oh. It's okay. We can get you something to wear after this checkup, okay?"

You held your arms there for a second, but slowly let them fall back to the bed.

"Did you give me any medicine that would make me hallucinate? Because right now I see you as a little furry creature, kind of like a deer with a blue nose and a hat."

"No, I didn't give you any medicine that is making you hallucinate. While it isn't uncommon to hallucinate while under the effects of demon blood, you're not currently hallucinating" he clarified, holding the odd instrument to your bandaged chest. He put his ear against the small end and seemed to be listening to your heart.

I'm not hallucinating? How... what... I was... just... How can he be real? you thought. Panic was beginning to take over you.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! You're safe" the doctor tried to sooth you, obviously noticing your rapid breathing and quickening heart rate. You sat up suddenly, ignoring the searing pain from the movement in your ribs. You had to get out of here. You needed to go... where? Where am I?

The door across from the foot of your bed slammed open, a large figure filling the doorway. You squeaked in fright, shooting backwards on the bed, ignoring the burning that accompanied the movement. Green hair, claws, fangs, and rippling muscles filled your vision. Your mind screamed danger.

"Oi."

At the sound of his voice, you felt a throbbing on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You hissed at the sensation, but a wave of calm washed over you.

"You're safe. You're hurt, but Chopper is a great doctor. You're in the realm of demons, but you're not in any danger here."

You studied him. Black horns protruded from his forehead, curving only slightly over his short, wavy green hair. Long, pointed ears stuck out from the sides of his head. He was tanned. One eye had a scar over it, and he kept it closed. The other eye was a piercing silver, scanning your form as if in search of other injuries. When he spoke earlier, you caught the glint of fangs.

Your gaze traveled down to his well-muscled neck and shoulders, landing on a diagonal scar that started on his left pec and traveled towards his opposite hip. It was covered partially by a green haramaki wrapped around his waist. A long, dark green robe hung from his shoulders, closed only at his lower hips. You saw three katana scabbards hanging from the cloth belt closing the robe, and his large hand rested on the hilts. Short claws adorned his fingertips. He wore loose black trousers, but was barefoot, revealing matching claws on his toes.

"Who are you?" you asked hesitantly. The man hesitated before answering.

"Call me Zoro."

As you heard his name, you felt like something missing from your soul fell into place. You furrowed your brow at the feeling, skeptical.

"Zoro... you saved me."

He froze at the words, gaze shifting into a questioning one as he found the furry doctor.

"I didn't tell her! She's talking about when you were at the shrine"

"Tell me what?"

This was the second time the doctor mentioned something he obviously wasn't supposed to talk about.

The demon in front of you sighed, running a hand over his hair.

"Can I sit?" he asked, nodding towards your bed. You nodded, but suddenly realized you were still dressed rather immodestly. You snatched the blankets up to your chin. The furry doctor took this as his cue to leave the room, and he closed the door behind him. Zoro sat on the end of the bed, facing you and bringing one leg up to the mattress while letting the other dangle off the side.

"Look. There's no easy way to say this. You're my mate. Temporarily at least."

You stared at him. Mate? What did that even mean? Were you two friends now?

"Mate? Like... friends?"

"No, being a mate means being like a couple. But in this case, you don't have to do anything like that. I've claimed you as mine to keep you safe from other demons - You're not the first sacrifice to me, ya know. Its temporary until you heal and decide what you want to do."

You sat silently, absorbing the information and how it fit into your memories of what happened.

"I was sacrificed to you?"

"Yep"

"... but I was a sacrifice to the Demon King."

"Yep"

"...you're the Demon King?!" your shout of revelation made your head hurt and rib twinge, and you grimaced in pain.

"I'm the Demon King that humans know about, yes"

You blinked at him, shocked. He fiddled with the handles of his swords.

"But... but you're protecting me. You saved me and helped me."

He looked at you, crossing his arms. His cheeks looked pink. Cute.

"I did. You were betrayed by your own kind. You're powerful, so you managed to live after drinking so much demon blood, or at least live without turning fully into a demon."

The reminder shot ice through your veins and you froze. You looked down, tears brimming your eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"To all of it. Why are the demons showing up more? Why was I sacrificed? Why did they say I was powerful? Why did you save me? Why do you need to mark me to keep me safe from other demons? What do you mean by turned fully demon? Why-" you broke off as your throat closed with a sob.

"Oi Oi. I can only answer some of those questions, but only when you're ready. For now you need rest." He stood from the bed, walking closer to you. Tears dripped down your face, staining the blanket beneath you with dark splotches. He made a show of moving to touch you, and when you didn't move away, he finally placed a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacted before your mind. You gripped his arm and moved it so you were gently hugging it to your chest. You let your face fall into the warm tan skin of his muscled arm and cried. You felt the bed dip and the arm shift out of your grip as he wrapped you in a gentle hug. He stayed silent, letting you sob and scream as you gripped his jacket.

You stayed like that for maybe a half hour, waves of sobs wracking your body. It was only when your head was pounding with stabbing pain and it hurt to breathe did you lay back down on the mattress. The last thing you remember is Zoro helping you lay down before unconsciousness welcomed you back gracefully.

~~

Summary of gore/betrayal- so you were chosen as a sacrifice basically as a slap in the face to the King of Demons, being kind and strong (spoiler: it didn't work). You were basically beat up and drugged with demon blood that made you unconscious. You were strong and resistant to the drug though so they kept having to make you drink it, and honestly you should've been unconscious for days with the amount they forced you to drink. The ceremony took all day/evening and at night Zoro eventually came through to your world and you passed out in his arms when he saved you. He left Luffy to take care of the 'bad guys'.

[ilguna]

last one!! so sorry for clogging ur inbox i hope its okay 😭 could i please request supply run with the second aisle prompts #4 #7 and #21, for clarke griffin!! preferably her helping injured reader :D (ofc doesnt have to be word for word) and! congratulations!!!!! 3k is so impressive and you totally deserve it!!! your writing is amazing! <3

☼ wanheda (Clarke Griffin) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention, blood, ehh gore, kinda the beginnings of a panic attack?

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 4. "Can you walk? I'd be happy to carry you." AND 7. "You can hold my hand." AND 21. "Just look at me. Forget everything else."

notes; spoilers for end of season 2 and beginning of season 3.

--

“Hey, is Kane in there?” You ask Bellamy, motioning to the room at the end of the hall that he’s coming from. “I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”

“Yeah, he’s in there with Abby.” He nods, pace slowing. “Hey, a few of us are going into Sector Seven, do you want to come with?”

Your face twists, “No, I’ve got other plans. Who’re you going with?”

“Octavia, Raven, Monty, Jasper, and Miller.”

“You’ve got a full crew.” You wave your hand. “It’ll be crowded if I go. You guys be safe, though.”

“We’ll try. What are your plans?”

“Sneaking out.” You grin. “I’ll catch you later.”

You turn away, walking down the rest of the hallway. When you glance over your shoulder, you find that Bellamy is gone, moving much faster than you. You stop outside of the room, raising your fist to knock on the door to announce your presence, and then Abby speaks.

“I was dreaming we were on the Ark.” Abby pauses. “Before we sent the kids down.” She must get up, there’s a sound of feet shuffling against the floor. She sighs, “Maybe she’s in Sector Seven.”

You close your eyes, picturing the map that was drawn out to mark the territories of the different Grounders. A large portion of it belongs to Azgeda, with Sector Seven being on the bottom right, where Trikru is. It’s not entirely dangerous, but with how close it rides next to Azgeda, it’s not a place you want to be.

“We could send out another search party.” Kane suggests.

“They wouldn’t find her, not unless she’s ready to be found.” Abby says. “(Y/n)’s been trying for weeks, she’s made no progress.”

A man clearing his voice makes you jump out of your skin, head whipping to see where it’s coming from. Sergeant Miller is coming down the hallway, lips pressed together, head tilted disapprovingly.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to talk to Kane and Abby but I just answered my own question.” You tell him, which isn’t a complete lie. 

You were seeking them out to talk about Clarke, and they managed to answer your question without ever knowing it existed. You wanted to know if they were ready to send you—or anyone else—out again. The answer seems to be no. That doesn’t matter to you, you were planning on leaving either way. You just needed to figure out if you had to sneak through the fence or walk out the front gate.

With that, you flash Sergeant Miller a smile, walking away before he can respond. You navigate your way out of the building and out into the open. Arkadia is crawling with people, especially guards. They don’t seem to be on edge today, which might help you later when you come in through the front.

You walk to your tent, which is tucked snugly off to the side, right next to the fence for easy departure. You were told by Abby that you should be staying inside of the building, sharing a room with someone, whatever. You’re no stranger to a tent, when you landed on the ground, you opted for one, for the sole reason of the fact that you don’t want to share a room.

Besides, there won’t be anyone to tell on you.

You flip the flaps open, ducking in as you enter. It’s a fairly small space, holding the essentials. There’s a cot that takes up half of the room, with a pillow, a sleeping bag, and a blanket neatly folded on top. The other side has a table that you may or may not have stolen, a chair, and a lamp. That’s where your backpack sits.

It’s already packed with the necessities, all you have to do is throw it over your shoulder and pull out the knife stuck in the table’s wood. You leave the tent, no one bats an eye in your direction, making for a quicker escape. You pass your backpack through the fence, and then carefully move through it, yourself. 

It’s usually electrified, but recently they’ve been knocking it back to preserve the energy.

You take your sweet time escaping Arkadia, not caring whether or not someone sees you, because they know better than to send someone after you. They tried that once before, you managed to lose them in the forest in less than fifteen minutes. By the time you were done and coming back, you retrieved them and brought them home.

It was funny. Well, it was funny to you. Abby and Kane weren’t very happy. You got a lecture and then made a false promise that you wouldn’t do it again. And you haven’t had to, because now people know not to follow you outside of the fence.

The moment you’re hidden in the treeline, you relax some. You set your bag onto a rock, digging through it to pull out your knife. You tuck it into your belt to keep it in range to grab. After you zip your bag up, you start in the direction where you believe you’ve caught Clarke’s tracks the most.

She’s clever, and she’s usually very clean with her area, but sometimes the dirt is squishy enough to be considered mud, and you’ll find a boot print. She’ll leave scraps of food, twine, and broken objects behind. She makes an effort to hide them in the bushes and ferns, yet you’re still able to find it.

It might have something to do with the fact that you’re actively seeking it out, therefore making it easier to find. Of course, it could belong to anybody, but there aren’t really nomads around here. There’s the Grounders, who each have their colony to stay in, and then there’s the people of the sky—your people. And you all stay inside your camp and walls.

You know you’re coming close to Clarke, there’s been a few times where you could’ve sworn you were on top of her. She moves too fast, making it difficult for you to actually nail her down. Clarke doesn’t want to be found. As much as you respect that, it would be safer if she stayed in Arkadia, or with the Commander. Being out by herself is a recipe for disaster, especially since she’s not exactly loved by everybody.

There’s a lot of controversy surrounding Bellamy and Clarke. When they pulled the lever, they killed hundreds of people inside of Mount Weather, but ended up saving just as many by ending it there. However, Jasper’s girlfriend was included in the mix, since she couldn’t bear the radiation.

This would make him crucify Clarke. Bellamy didn’t get the same treatment. If he had, then Jasper wouldn’t be agreeing to go with Bellamy to Sector Seven. Then again, at this point in time, Jasper doesn’t care much about anything. He spends most of his time drunk, with Monty taking care of him. You’d bet your favorite hair tie that he was intoxicated this afternoon.

And also, Clarke and Bellamy have handled their guilt differently. Clarke ran, she couldn’t stand to see the faces of those she loved. She didn’t like being called a hero, when she had to kill so many people. She wanted to solve it in a better way. Bellamy stayed, obviously. He’s straightened out, as far as you can tell, just a little rough when it comes to the topic.

You try not to talk about it to anyone who isn’t willing to. You avoid it, pretending like it didn’t happen, even though you were one of the many teenagers that had been ‘saved’. One of your biggest regrets is not listening to Clarke when she told you that you needed to get out with her. 

If you had, you wouldn’t have been tortured by Cage. 

You’re still having nightmares about being strapped down on the table, being stood over by them, a needle in one hand, a saw in the other. The thought, even now, makes goosebumps rise over your arms. You watched the procedure happen to three people before it was your turn.

After walking for a couple hours, you decide you can break into your water. You swing the bag off one shoulder, halfway pulling it in front of you. You unzip the largest pocket, shaking the water out of the bag to keep any miscellaneous from falling out while you do so. When you’re done, you close the top halfway, before uncapping the lid.

You press the cool metal to your lips, tilting your head back as you take another step.

A loud snap fills the quiet air, followed by a blinding pain hitting just above your ankle, pulling you down to the Earth. A scream leaves your lips as you fall to your knees. The water canister is gone, thrown several feet away from you. You watch through tear-filled eyes as the water gushes out, soaking the soil and dry pine needles.

“Fuck!” You scream through gritted teeth. “Oh, fuck!”

A wave of nausea hits you before you look at what has your foot trapped. You twist, turning to sit on your butt, allowing you to see the bear trap. Its teeth have sunken into your skin, stinting the blood flow a little. It pools in the puncture wounds, carefully drawing lines down your skin.

This is when your hands begin to shake. Uncontrollably. You reach for your bag, being careful not to jostle your leg. You rip the zippers open, digging through what’s inside, and quickly come to the realization that you didn’t bring a walkie. A habit that you started because of the Azgeda troops that patrol around this area, and their disregard for the truce.

“Oh.” You breathe. You reach for the trap, but you stop when knives begin to get stabbed in your calf, moving up to your knee. “No, no, no.”

You dip your head, clenching your jaw as you wrap your fingers around the teeth. You count down from three in your head, and on one, you try to pry the teeth open. Except, they don’t budge, all they do is move inside your skin, and send streaks of white across your vision.

The lightheadedness is no joke.

One second you’re upright, the next you’re laying on the ground, grass blades tickling your face. You blink, trying to come back to life, but your eyes roll to the back of your head, taking you out. 

The feeling of needles in your muscles jolts you up, actually awake this time. There’s a girl leaning over your ankle, her long red hair slightly matted on her shoulders. She lets out a sigh, shakes her head, and reaches for your bag.

“Hey.” Your face twists. “Get out of that.”

She stops, fingers pausing over the pocket where you keep the emergency medical supplies. How does she know where to look? She slowly turns her head, familiar blue eyes landing on you, eyebrows raising. There’s a long moment that passes between you two, as you decide whether or not you’re hallucinating.

“Clarke?” You sputter. “What are you doing out here? Why’s your hair red?”

“Hunting.” She tells you gruffly, turning her back to you once more. “This is going to hurt.”

She doesn’t leave you any time to comprehend, much less prepare, for her popping the bear trap open. The pressure relief is immediate, but so is the aching pain that hits you like a truck. You groan, holding your breath, watching your vision coat with stars.

Clarke goes back to your bag, rummaging through to pull out what you have. 

“Where have you been?” You ask. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I know.” She says, voice hard. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” You shake your head. “I care about you and your wellbeing. I want to make sure that you’re safe.”

“I am.” She tells you.

She pours a small handful of alcohol onto a clean rag. When you suck in a breath to ask her another question, her hand ‘slips’, dumping it into your open wounds. You choke, reaching to grab onto anything to hold yourself steady, but you just pull out a handful of grass, instead.

“You can hold my hand.” Clarke says, a look of remorse on her face. She holds out her palm, and you find it surprisingly clean. 

The same can’t be said for her face. She’s got black coal smeared into symbols on her face, which you can’t identify. From a distance, you’d say that she’s dirty and hasn’t bathed herself. There is no smell to accommodate that assumption.

You take her hand, squeezing her fingers. She takes her time dabbing around the several wounds. You watch as the blood doesn’t stop, the way your skin moves, allowing you to see inside of your body. Every time she presses too hard, the alcohol will find its way inside of one of the bite marks.

Before you know it, you’re breathing heavily, picturing the damage this is going to do to your leg. The way you’ll have to clean it, a task you’re not up to doing. You passed out due to pain, this won’t be any different.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Clarke pauses, face twisted. “Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

“That’s hard.” You say shakily. “Because you’re cleaning out my leg.”

“I know.” She looks off to the side. “How about you ask me a few questions?”

“Are you sure?”

“You came all this way.” She murmurs. “Go ahead.”

“Why’s your hair red?” You ask.

She hesitates, “It’s blood, from my hunts. I did it to hide myself.”

“You don’t wash it?”

“I don’t want to risk being caught.” She shrugs. “You can ask me anything, and you decided to start with my hair?”

You laugh, and then wince, “Fine, when are you coming back?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything for a while, and then it extends beyond a minute. You’re afraid that you’ve ruined the conversation, so you keep quiet. She sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Have you been thinking about it, at least?”

“Yes, but it’d be better if I didn’t right now. It’s not safe.”

“Why?” Your face twists.

“Just…” She shakes her head. “Reasons, I can’t explain them to you right now.”

“Clarke, you know you can trust me.” You tell her.

“It’s not the right time.” She says back. “I’m going to bandage this for you. We shouldn’t stay out here for long, it’s going to get dark.”

She leaves no room for argument, taking her time with the sterile white bandages, breaking it off and tucking it into itself. She pulls you up and onto your feet, where you lean against a tree for support. You can’t put any weight down on your ankle without a blistering pain going through your whole leg.

“I won’t be able to make it back on my own.” You tell her.

She zips up your bag, swinging it onto her free shoulder. “I know, I’ll bring you as close to the gate as I can. Can you walk? I’d be happy to carry you.”

“I’ve got it, I just need you for support.” 

Clarke closes the gap between you two. You put a hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly as you take each step. “Thank you, Clarke.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/n).”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!!

[gloomweed]

Freak Accident

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff.

Summary: After the reader trips and hurts their ankle, Eddie offers to drive them home and ends up taking care of them.

Word Count: 3.4k

Autumn leaves crunch underfoot as you make your way through the woods behind Hawkins High School. You were tired of waiting for your ride to show up, and with the sky only getting darker, you decided it was best to just bite the bullet and start walking home. It wasn’t a long walk to your house, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable having to trek through the wilderness in the dark. With no other options, this was where you found yourself. You held your arms around yourself tightly as a cold breeze swept around you. The knitted sweater you wore did little to protect you against the dropping temperatures. You pulled the sleeves to cover your hands as you walked. The full moon hung in the sky above you and you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful you weren’t walking in total darkness.

As you continued your journey, you could hear distant leaf crunching and felt like there was someone following you. Turning back, you squint into the low light to try and spot anything, but seeing nothing, you shrug and continue on your way. Once you hear a twig snap somewhere closer, you don’t bother looking back and just decide to run for it. Your lungs burn as you run, your legs feeling shaky. You spare a look over your shoulder only to trip on a tree root and fall to the ground. Wincing at the pain in your twisted ankle, you bring your knee to your chest to try and get a better look at the injury. The crunching returns and you whip your head up at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” Eddie approaches you with his hands up, ready to jump in and help you. The many rings on his hands caught your eye as they glistened in the moonlight.

You sigh in relief. “Oh, it’s you.” Annoyance quickly replaced your relief. “And no, I’m not okay. I twisted my ankle, thanks to you. Why were you following me?”

He makes a sympathetic face, “Sorry about that.” He holds his hand out for you to take and helps you stand up. You lean against a nearby tree for support as he explains himself. He hucks a thumb over his shoulder towards the school. “I came out here to smoke when I saw you walking into the woods by yourself.” The edge of his lips twitch upward. “Thought you were possessed or cursed or something.” When you don’t laugh, he puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket with an innocent shrug. “Just curious why you were out here shivering in the dark.” You and Eddie weren’t exactly friends, but you were more than strangers. You’ve talked in passing a couple times and even did a social studies project together once when you were the last two students without partners. Everyone called him a freak, but you didn’t really see him like that. Really, he was just an outcast, like you. 

You sigh. “My ride never showed up, so I was walking home.” You test your ankle by trying to put your weight on it, only to jump back with a pained wince. "Looks like it’s going to be a longer walk than I thought,” you think, dryly.

Eddie nods in understanding before looking you up and down with a frown. “I mean, if you want, I can drive you home since, you know, walking doesn’t seem like much of an option for you now.” When you don’t respond he rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin. “Come on, let me make it up to you for accidentally freaking you out and making you twist your ankle in the first place.”

You bite your lip as you weigh your options. Ultimately you decide that your house is too far for you to continue walking like this, and you don't want to injure yourself further by continuing to walk on it. You nod a few times reluctantly. “Alright.”

Eddie approaches you with a scoff. “Jeez, don’t sound too excited.”

He reaches towards you, but you lean away from him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “You can’t seriously expect me to let you hobble all the way to the parking lot, do you? Now, come on. Give me your bag.” He doesn’t wait for a response and instead puts his hands on your shoulders and gently turns you around, making you shrug off your bookbag. He puts your bag on his back, fiddling with the straps until it lays secure against him. Eddie groans and squats a few times trying to get used to the weight. “Christ! What do you keep in here? Bricks?” The sight makes you roll your eyes with a smile. “I guess this is what a smart kid’s backpack feels like. I should count myself lucky that I’m an idiot.”

You’re about to contradict him when he takes your arm and slings it over his shoulders. His other hand rests on your waist to support you and you feel a warmth spread across your face from his closeness. You can’t help but breathe in his scent of cologne and cigarettes and even a hint of his shampoo. Instinctually, you attempt to keep some distance between you two as a way of trying to be polite. Eddie can feel you pull away from him. “Uh, the point of this is to lean on me so you’re off your ankle.” He pulls you a little closer as he says this and it makes your heart rate jump. You lean on him like he says, your side fully pressed against his, and suddenly it’s not as cold as it was moments ago.

The way his fingers splay against your side is all you can think about as you make your way towards the school parking lot together. Eddie attempts to fill the awkwards silence between you. “So what brings you to Hawkins High this late?”

“I was tutoring someone after school to make a little extra cash.” You look up at him next to you. “What about you?” Your eyes squint as you try to remember what he told you in passing. “Is it that ‘D and D’ club?”

The way you pronounced it makes him smile. The fact that you cared to remember his club at all brings a warm feeling to his chest. “It’s ‘DnD’, and yes. We call it Hellfire, actually.”

You nod as you remember the posters you’ve seen in the hallways. “That’s right. Hellfire. What is it exactly? Some kind of board game?”

Eddie looks down at you. “More like a role-playing game. It’s all fantasy and imagination.”

“Well, if it’s all imagination, how do you win?”

Seeing you���re actually interested in the game, his heart soars with excitement. Not wanting to scare you away, he remained nonchalant with a shrug. “It’s complicated. There are different campaigns with different stories and different objectives. A lot of times it’s just killing the baddest guy to bring freedom to the land.” He speaks the last part in a deep theatrical narration.

You smile as you think about it. “Huh. Sounds kinda cool.” 

Eddie wishes he could do some kind of victory dance in celebration of keeping you interested in DnD. Instead, he looks down at you and smirks. “Well, hey. If you’re into it, I can bring you to a meeting sometime and show you the ropes. You can make a character and join our campaign.” When you don’t answer immediately he playfully bumps your side with his hip and adds on, “No pressure, though.”

You look up at him with a grin. “No, that sounds nice. I think I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

He grins wider at that. “Sweet.” His demeanor changes suddenly as he looks at you more seriously. “I have to warn you though, there are a lot of freshmen in that club that struggle with their personal hygiene.” Eddie smirks when a laugh bubbles out of you. “Seriously,” he laughs, “It’s not great. We got to keep the windows open just so we all don’t suffocate from the stink.” You laugh again, and Eddie can’t help but feel pride in being the one responsible for it. When you finally make it to the parking lot, he jerks his head in the direction of his van. “Our chariot awaits.”

You give a low whistle at the sight of the old, beaten up van. “She is a beaut’.”

Eddie sighs longingly. “She sure is.” 

While still holding you at his side, he opens the passenger door for you. He offers you his hand as you tentatively climb into the seat. You take it with a polite smile that he easily returns. The warmth that was once at your side is gone now and you can’t help but miss it already. “Thanks,” you speak softly.

His dark eyes flick to you intently. “Don’t mention it,” he says just as softly. 

Once he’s sure you’re securely in the van, he walks around to the driver’s side. From the rearview mirror, you notice him stop half way and put both of his hands on his lower back and arch it forwards with a pained expression on his face. You realize that with your difference in height, he was stooping pretty much the whole time, not to mention carrying your bookbag, so no doubt there was some pain in his back. When Eddie gets into the driver’s seat, he puts your bag behind your seat. It’s only when he turns back does he notice your frown. “What’s the matter?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Well, I saw you stretching and I just feel bad you were hurting your back to help me.”

There was disappointment in his tone. “Oh. You saw that, huh?” He turns around to look out the van’s back windows as he speaks under his breath. “I really thought you wouldn’t be able to see me from there.” The thought that he attempted to hide his stretching from you so you wouldn’t feel bad brings a flutter to your chest. He turns back with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me, alright? I’m doing this because I want to, not because I have to.”

 Staring into his eyes, you can see his sincerity. You reluctantly nod. “Alright. Thanks, Eddie.” In your head, you were already trying to figure out a way to pay him back for this.

“Like I said,'' he turns the keys in the ignition and gives you a wink that brings a heat to your face. “Don’t mention it.” Eddie puts the vehicle in reverse and begins to back out. He isn’t even out of the parking spot yet when he suddenly hits the brakes as he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. “Wait, where do you live?”

Eddie parks the van in the empty driveway of your house. “My parents aren’t home. They both work late,” you explained.

He wipes his hands on his thighs with a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I was worried I was gonna have to scold them for not picking you up from school.”

His sarcasm makes you blush with embarrassment. “Oh right. I guess that would have been obvious, huh?”

“Relax. I’m kidding. I am seriously relieved though. Most parents find all this,” he gestures to himself vaguely, “alarming. I mean, I’m not exactly a ‘good influence’.”

The way his eyes dim as he speaks about himself makes you want to pull him into a hug. Instead, you shrug. “I think a person willing to drive someone they barely know home after they twisted their ankle is pretty good to me.”

He gives a dismissive shrug. “Sure, but I also was the one to make you fall in the first place.”

“Yeah, but that was an accident, and you were willing to make it right. I think that’s pretty noble of you.”

Your reassuring smile makes his insides twist in a good way and a heat rise to his cheeks. The moment is quiet as he isn’t sure how to respond. His voice is soft and he shrugs with a smile. “Yeah maybe.” With the van being off, the cold had slowly started to seep in as you two were talking. It finally got to a point that Eddie saw you give a little shake and wrap your arms around yourself. He reaches behind your seat and grabs your bag as he speaks. “Let’s just get you inside before we freeze to death.” You move to get out, a hand already on the door handle, when Eddie stops you with frantic hand motions. “Wait, wait, wait!”

You retract your hand like the handle was on fire. “What?!” you ask, worried you almost ruined something.

He shook his head with a lopsided grin like it was obvious and you were being the silly one. “Let me get the door for you,” he explained calmly as he hopped out of the van and rushed to the other side to open the door. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Eddie opened the door with a dramatic bow. “M’lady.” He holds his hand out for you to take. When you giggle and take his hand, he looks up at you with a grin.

“Are you always this weird?” you ask through a chuckle.

He nods emphatically. “Oh, definitely.”

Eddie helps you get out of the van without putting weight on your twisted ankle and once again you are pressed to his side. He notices that you don’t hesitate to lean into him this time, making him smile to himself. As he helps you through your house, you lead with the directions. “My room is down this way,” you point down the hall. As he moves to twist the doorknob, you thank your lucky stars that you made an effort to clean up your room this morning. You can’t imagine the embarrassment you would feel if a cute boy were to see your dirty laundry scattered around the floor of your bedroom. 

After he helps lower you onto your bed, he shrugs off your backpack and puts it next to your desk. He slumps into the chair there and lets out a sigh of exhaustion while you begin to slip off your shoes. His eyes flit about the room as he casually takes in all your personal touches. The pretty color of your walls, the little pen holder on your desk that’s shaped like a dog, the box of cassettes on your nightstand, the scented candles sitting on your dresser. Everything about it was soft and inviting. “Sweet digs you got here.”

You aren’t really sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Thanks?”

The way you tilt your head as you speak has Eddie smiling. “For real. I like it. Very… you.” He notices the way you hiss in pain while you remove your shoes. “What do you do for a twisted ankle anyway?”

The question takes you off guard. You try to think back to what they taught you about handling injuries in your ninth grade health class. “Oh, uh… I guess I would wrap it up with a bandage, elevate it with some pillows, maybe put some ice on it for the swelling…”

As you speak, Eddie leaves the room without a word. For a moment, you pessimistically think he’s gone home and just didn’t bother to say goodbye, but then you hear him rustling through the hall closet. He returns a minute later with supplies filling his arms and tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on balancing it all. Pillows from the couch, bandages from the closet, and a bag of frozen mixed vegetables are haphazardly spilled from his arms onto the foot of your bed.

Eddie claps his hands together, looking excited to get to work. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He kneels on the floor in front of you and holds out a hand expectantly. “Hand me the bandages will you, nurse?” He puts on a deeper voice trying to sound like a doctor.

The whole scene is enough to make you laugh. You play along as you hand him the bandages. “Here you are, doctor.”

“Thank you, nurse.” He looks up at you with a lopsided grin before unraveling the bandage. With a gentle hand on the heel of your foot, he begins wrapping your ankle. All you can do is watch as his slow and delicate movements weave the bandage over and under your injury. Eddie is silent as he does this, clearly wanting to do it right. Once again his tongue begins to peek out of his mouth as he goes on. You bite your lip trying to stifle a laugh at the cute display of his intense concentration. Eventually, he finishes the wrapping by securely tucking the end of the bandage behind itself at the top of your ankle. Still kneeling on the floor he looks up at you. “How’s that? Is it too tight? Too loose?”

You shake your head with a smile. “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” You test your ankle by pointing your toe like a ballerina. It felt much better than it did, although still a little sore.

Eddie stands from the floor and begins reaching for the other things on your bed. “I got you some pillows like you said to keep your ankle up.” He holds up the bag of frozen vegetables. “And you didn't have any ice and I didn't feel like cracking ice trays, so I just grabbed this from the freezer instead.” He goes quiet and stares at it in his hands and begins to feel like maybe it's not good enough until you laugh.

“That'll work great. I was gonna do the same thing actually.”

He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “Oh good. Well, here.” After stacking the pillows, he gently moves your ankle to rest on top of it and places the bag on your ankle. The vegetables fall on either side of your ankle within the bag, making for a good ice pack. Eddie holds his hands up as he steps away, as if the whole thing would collapse. When it's clear that won't happen, he puts his hands in his pockets. 

It's clear that things are beginning to wrap up, his job done. With no more reason to be here, he guesses that you probably want him to leave soon. Eddie doesn't want this to be the last time you hang out together. Actually, he hopes you will have the chance to hang out when your ankle is not sprained. The awkward silence that lingers has Eddie inching towards the door, not wanting to ruin the vibe by watching you from the corner all night. He points over his shoulder, smiling politely. “I guess, if you don't need anything else, I should get out of your hair.” 

You surprise him by standing from your bed. “Wait, before you go.” He waits as you take a few unsteady steps to your desk and begin to scribble something on a scrap of paper.

As you walk towards him, you stumble, but Eddie reaches out and catches you before you fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” 

You look up at him, flushed both from embarrassment and how close he is to you. “S-sorry. I just…” you take a step back, trying to give him his personal space back. You hand him the slip of paper. “ I wanted to give you my number.” The way you look up at him through your lashes shyly has him blushing as he takes the paper from you. “You know, so you can call me when you do your next Hellfire meeting.”

He can’t stop himself from grinning. “Right. I’ll call you.”

His grin is infectious and has you smiling just as wide. “I look forward to it.” Eddie turns to leave, but you call his name. “Oh, and Eddie?” As he turns back to face you again, you gently cup his face and kiss his cheek. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at you surprised, his face bright red. “Thanks for everything.” You speak softly and genuinely.

Eddie feels like his heart is racing a mile a minute. He’s so surprised and flustered, he isn’t sure what to say back. “Hey, no problem. Anytime. I’ll- I’ll see you l-later.” As he leaves, he stares at the slip of paper with your digits on it, a big goofy grin on his face. His cheek still burns from the feeling of your soft lips and can’t help but touch the spot with his hand as he savors the feeling. He is definitely going to call you tomorrow.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

I never wanted this, but maybe it's not such a bad thing (Preath x Reader)

Soulmate Au, requested by anon. This turned out to be really long and it's still not finished so I decided to split it up into 2-3 parts. Hope you enjoy!

If I haven't done your request yet it will be coming. I try to write in order of request, but my brain chooses what I write without my consent and I can't focus on anything else. Perks of ADHD.

Words: 2.7k

---

Soulmates. It was a concept that I had always despised. Why did the universe or whatever you want to call it get to decide who I was meant to spend my life with? I didn't like being told what to do at the best of times, let alone when it came to one of the biggest decisions one might make in life. Apparently when you meet your soulmate a tattoo appeared somewhere on your body of something that represented where or how you first met. I hadn't found my so called soulmate yet and I really didn't care if I did or not. It's not like I would do anything about it anyway.

"Where are you heading in such a hurry?" Ali asked, as I was getting my stuff together. Ash was my older sister, Ali had practically been my sister since they met, I loved her as much as I did Ash. They had let me stay with them after I got out of the marines last year after being injured in a bad wreck, I was struggling to readjust to normal life and move past the wreck. There were a lot of bad dreams and sleepless nights which had me turning to alcohol. Ash had pulled me out of it before it turned from a bad habit to an addiction. She got me into therapy, stopped me from drinking, slept with me every night for over a month until my dreams started to settle down. 

"I'm going surfing, tell Ash I'm heading to our spot if she wants to join." I ran out the door, but quickly turned back kissing the kids and Ali's cheek, "Love you all, aunty will see you both soon, be good."

"Be safe, love you. Remember some of the team is coming for lunch, it would be good to meet them before you start." I was starting with the team as security in two weeks. With being deployed, trying to sort my life out and working, I had never met most of the team. Unfortunately, I had even missed their wedding because I was deployed. The only person I had ever really met was Megan. 

"I'll be there!" I yelled over my shoulder. 

After what felt like hours and good few wipe outs, I finally made my way back to the beach. I had my wetsuit sitting down around my waist, drying myself off when a voice spoke up, "You're pretty good."

There was a brown haired girl, probably about my age, staring at my abs. I smirked before speaking, "Guess you didn't see the part where I totally wiped out?"

Her head shot up. As soon as our eyes met, an intense burning sensation shot through my wrist. I hissed, gripping my wrist. The stranger seemed to be doing the same thing, but the pain was so intense, I couldn't pay much attention. After a few seconds the pain subsided and I finally looked down at my wrist. Previously bare skin was now covered by a wave tattoo. What was happening finally hit me. The stranger was my soulmate.

I looked at her for a second, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as it felt like everything was falling into place. It felt right. Which was not what I wanted to feel. Honestly, it scared me. I had heard stories about it, but I never wanted to feel that way towards my soulmate. 

"You-"

Before the stranger could say anything else, I ran away. Literally, I picked up my surfboard and sprinted down the beach. I never wanted to meet my soulmate, I didn't want a soulmate to begin with. In that moment I figured that if I ran away, I wouldn't have to deal with it or see her again. 

"Woah, I know you are not about to come into this house with your wetsuit still on."

"Right sorry," I quickly stripped off my wetsuit, making sure to hang it up before rushing upstairs to shower and try forget what happened on the beach. I was in the shower for probably half an hour before moving to sit on my bed, staring into space for another good half an hour. There was a knock on the door, bringing me out of my thoughts, "Yeah?"

"You coming down? The team is starting to arrive."

"Uh yeah, let me just get dressed. I'll be down in a minute."

I quickly got dressed before pushing any thoughts of soulmates out of my mind. Before I could get far, crying from the nursery caught my attention. Ali called up the stairs asking me to get him before heading down. 

"Hi baby boy," I whispered as I picked him up, moving to change his diaper before we went down stairs, "I could definitely use some cuddles from my beautiful nephew right about now, how does that sound? Maybe we can get you a bottle while we're at it, everyone loves good food after a nap."

I was too invested in my one sided conversation to notice the amount of girls gathered in the kitchen as I walked in. As I looked up, I found my gaze drawn to a curly haired brunette. That was until my wrist started intensely burning again. 

"Take him."

Ali looked confused, "What?"

"Someone take him now." Ocean was quickly taken from me as I gripped my wrist, trying not to swear because I knew Sloane was in the room. This almost felt worse than the first time, maybe because the area was already tender.

"Y/n! What's happening?" I heard Ash ask, voice laced with worry as her arm wrapped around me. The pain subsided once again as I looked at the stranger. I got the same calm feeling from the beach wash over me. Ash was still standing next to me, concern radiating off her as I looked around the room, eyes stopping on the stranger from the beach. Before anyone could say anything, I ran again. This time out of the house and back to the beach. I was confused, why did I have that reaction twice? There was no way I had two soulmates right? That doesn't happen.

I finally looked down at my wrist. The wave tattoo now accompanied by a house. I sunk down into the sand, tucking my knees against my chest as I stared out at the water. 

Someone sat down next to me, I knew it was either Ali or Ash, they were the only ones who knew about the little corner of the beach I came to hide. Ali's soft voice spoke up after a few seconds, "Thought I might find you here. You found your soulmate?"

Of course it was Ali. Ash was always there for me, but it was more support, spending time with me, fighting for me. Ali was always the better one at making me talk. I chucked humourlessly, showing her my wrist, "Two soulmates apparently. First one happened on the beach earlier."

"That's why you came in so hurriedly. Going by who you were looking at when it happened, I have a feeling I know who your other is. Do you want to know who they are?"

"I never wanted to know them at all."

Ali wrapped her arm around me, pulling me closer. Her perfume creating a sense of peace as it always did, "I know, I know you don't like the concept of a soulmate, but you're going to be around them a lot Y/n. They're our teammates."

"Of course they are. Fuck this, fuck the world, fuck everything."

She chuckled, rubbing my arm, "You're being a bit dramatic."

I groaned dramatically, "Just let me be dramatic for a second before I have to face this."

"Okay, let me know when you're ready." 

After a few minutes I decided to just face it. It wasn't something I could run from. Ali was right, if they were on the team them I would be around them a lot, "Tell me."

"So the one in the house is Christen, now I'm assuming the one from the beach is Tobin."

"Why do you assume that?"

"Christen and Tobin are together, they're soulmates. They've mentioned a few times that they felt like someone was missing. I know you don't want this Y/n, but you should at least talk to them. It effects them as well, they deserve to know your stance."

Once again Ali was right, just because I didn't believe in it, doesn't mean they didn't deserve to know that I wasn't interested instead of me just running away or ignoring it. I could be an asshole, but not that much of an asshole, especially when it came to potentially breaking some ones heart. "I know. Give me 5 minutes once you get back then you can send them out if they want to."

Ali left, once again leaving me to my thoughts. I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I was never good at talking to people I just met or having to potentially hurt someone. Add them both together and I was slightly panicking. 

Shadows covered the sun making me look up. There stood my two soul mates. Who I guessed was Tobin spoke up first, "Uh hey, Ali said we'd find you out here." 

I quickly looked down, trying to stop the feelings that started to rise being this close to them. It was comfortable, calming, peaceful, but I was nervous at the same time. Nervous about what to say, how they would react and how I would feel about it once it was done. It wasn't what I wanted, I didn't want to be forced to be with someone. There was a small part of me that wondered if I would regret it, "Hey."

"I'm Tobin, this is Christen."

"Y/n."

They sat down, looking about as nervous as I felt. There was silence for a few seconds before I spoke up, "I'm sorry for running away. Twice. It was a shock I guess."

"It's okay, we get it."

"Look um I have to be honest with you both. I don't believe in soulmates, well I do, but I don't believe in the concept of just being with someone because you're told you should be. I'm sure you are both great, but this isn't something I'm looking to pursue."

They tried to hide it, but I saw the hurt fill their eyes. My heart ached knowing I hurt them. Hurting people was the last thing I wanted to do. Christen smiled softly at me, "We respect that Y/n."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's okay. We understand."

"We're going to head back in. Are you coming?"

"I will. I'm just going to take a minute."

After getting my mind back in order, I made my way back to the house stopping by the door to take my shoes off. It wasn't my intention to eavesdrop, but I accidently overheard the conversation going on. "Yes she's our soulmate, no nothing is going to come of it. She's not looking for that right now and we understand that. Finding out you have two soulmates is a lot especially when you're not looking for a relationship. Yes, it kind of hurts, but please don't let this effect the way you interact with her. We don't hold any negative feelings toward her."

There was quiet conversation as I waited a few seconds before going inside. I appreciated that they had my back despite what just happened. It was one of my worries that it would effect how the team saw me. I couldn't do my job easily if they hated me. I also didn't want my sisters bestfriends to hate me. Sloane was the first person to notice me, she ran up pulling at my hand until I picked her up, "Otay aunt Y/n/n? Ouchie? Kiss better."

I held my wrist out for her to kiss better. It was something I always did for her when she got hurt, "I'm okay superstar, it's all better now thanks to you."

"Ladies, this is my sister Y/n. As you may know she's starting as head of security in a couple of weeks."

Things weren't as awkward as I expected. They didn't seem to hold it against me. Interacting with me, getting to know me. Tobin and Christen kept their distance, choosing to interact with anyone but me. It wasn't unexpected, I was doing the same thing. It was just easier that way.

---

No one warned you how weird it would feel to not be with your soulmate or soulmates in my case. It was kind of hard to describe, there wasn't a constant pain or heartache like you would read in stories, it just felt weird. It was a sort of empty feeling, like something was missing. Which I guess there was. It had been three weeks since I first met them and a week since I started working with them.

We were friendly when around each other, but Christen and Tobin kept their distance when they could. I didn't blame them, I knew it hurt that their soulmate didn't want them. Ash had told me when I had asked how they were. Just because I didn't want it, doesn't mean I didn't care. If I'm being honest, I was still drawn to them, drawn to how right everything felt when I was around them. That scared me so I kept even more of a distance. 

I was heading up to my room when someone stopped the elevator from closing. Christen and Tobin got on, standing awkwardly across from me. This was the first time we had been alone since the beach on the day we met. The elevator jolted to a stop, not opening or moving despite trying the buttons. 

"They said something went wrong with the system, some ones coming to fix it, but it could take up to an hour." Tobin informed us as she hung up the phone.

"Great. That's just fucking fantastic. Of course this would happen now of all times"

I noticed Tobin clenching her jaw, "I know you don't want to be stuck with us, but you don't have to take it out on us. It's not like it's our fault."

I slid down the wall, tucking my knees to my chest. Tobin and Christen followed my lead, sitting down on the other side of the elevator. "Sorry, that was just a general statement, it wasn't aimed at you. I have an appointment with my therapist and I don't do well in confined spaces anymore." There was silence for a few minutes before I spoke up again, "It's not that I don't want to be stuck with you guys, I have nothing against you, you're both really nice people."

Tobin sighed, head resting back against the wall, "I know you have a thing about soulmates and we do respect that, but why won't you even just try to get to know us before completely shutting it down?"

"I don't know. To be honest I didn't even think about it. Everything happened so quickly, I got scared."

"What scares you?" Christen asked, voice softer than Tobin's was. I was starting to think that was just how Christen was. She always seemed so soft spoken. I admit it was comforting.  

I was never one to easily talk about my feelings, but I figured I owed them more of an explanation seeing as I broke their hearts with little to no explanation to begin with, "I don't want to be stuck in a relationship with someone I don't like or have anything in common with. I want to choose who I'm with, who I build a life with, not have it forced on me. Having two soulmates didn't help either."

"Chris and I aren't asking for a relationship Y/n."

"Y-you're not?"

"No, we just want to get to know you, see if there is anything there beside the soulmate connection. We never expected you to just jump into a relationship with us, all we wanted was to get to know you. Seeing how you reacted to us, we didn't want to push you."

"No expectations?"

"No expectations."

"That might be okay. For now can you guys just tell me about yourselves? Distract me from what's happening because I'm about to start panicking."

[fatuismooches]

Would you ever expand a little on the dottore turning into the fox and reader taking him in thing? 👉👈 I know it's a trope done many times before but I just find it amusing that Dottore would have such a mishap and then a complete stranger finds him and takes him home 💞

OMG OF COURSE ANON!! I'd love to, I'm happy that you enjoyed that silly little brainrot ❤️ (This is the post for reference!) Hmm let me think... Although he'd prefer to leave your house, Foxttore is a wee bit injured and tired... so it would be a better idea to just lay low in this residence for now. He's very good at hiding in your house. Probably knows it better than you at this point. You can search for hours and you won't find him, and then he'll pop out of nowhere, stare at you blankly, and then quickly exit when you try to catch him. This mf is TEASING you, he loves getting you riled up.

You want revenge? Pick him up by his tail and watch him suffer as he's unable to reach and scratch you. You didn't hear this from me but, his paws are ticklish. He can somehow... divide himself into tiny fluffballs with a red eye too. And then he commands the tiny segments to return back into his body. It's strange but you don't question it. Foxttore would avoid physical contact at all costs in the beginning. If you put horror movies on, he'll come and watch but then get bored quickly. He gives you strange looks with that one eye of his if you get scared (this is basic compared to what he's seen 😨) The fox seems to enjoy documentaries more though. Will nab your food off the plate as well. He's a devious lil guy. The day he leaves is the day you think you'll never see him again, and you can't help but be sad, but what did ya know? He returns later, again with some more... blood. Walks through your house leaving paw prints of blood on your floor and plops himself in your bathtub, looking at you expectantly. (The fox gets the best bath of his life, princess treatment fr) He once got himself stuck somewhere in your house and you laughed for a good couple of minutes while he just growled the whole time. Foxttore has never cared much for his fur but he appreciates how you keep it clean and fluffy. He's surprised at himself for how he keeps coming back to you... but he just convinces himself that you're a rare, good find because most humans would never go to these lengths for a creature like him. Totally not because he's also become emotionally attached.

You are nearly in tears when you find out you've been housing a grown man who can somehow turn into a fox creature thing this whole time??? But Dottore just acts like it's no big deal and eventually starts demanding attention as if you're his lover or something... haha... or 😉 ? If you're cuddling with him in his fox form and you try to leave, he'll turn into a human and just crush you with his weight. Also if you give him a little kith he transforms right on your lap with one of those grins of his. Uhhh and he also kills people who even try to disrespect you ❤️ Washing the blood off of Foxttore is a normal thing for you :) Your relationship is kind of... complicated. He goes out and does his own thing and he doesn't tell you anything but you don't question it nor do you care... but you always look forward to seeing a certain fox curled up on your bed!! Idk why but I'd love to put him under my shirt. He's very soft and fluffy and I would like to hold him.

[buddiefix]

Different First Meeting Fic's

The following are some buddie fanfiction that involve a different first meeting.

if it weren’t for second chances by alasse

9-1-1 (TV)  

When Buck doesn’t save Daniel, the Buckleys put him in foster care. Seventeen years later, Bobby meets a tall, lanky kid who can’t stop eating his pancakes at a church breakfast, and he gives him a phone number and an unconditional offer of help.

—or—

A story about how Buck finds a chosen family, and with a few twists and turns, eventually gets to the 118, meets Eddie Diaz, and maybe finds himself a second and a third (or, an Evan Nash story).

Language: English Words: 47,870 Chapters: 2/2

he hits my heart like a homerun by browney3dgirl6

9-1-1 (TV)  

“What’re you gonna do with that?” Eddie asked, tilting his chin toward the baseball. Evan shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe get it signed? You know the most expensive autographed baseball sold for over one hundred and ninety thousand dollars?” Eddie did not. “I don’t think anyone here’s that famous, but I just like to collect stuff wherever I go, you know?” He didn’t; not really. “Guess I haven’t traveled a lot of places I wanted to take souvenirs from. Bullets don’t exactly make good gifts or antiques. He hadn’t meant to let those words slip out, but something about Evan kept him brutally honest. It was like he couldn’t even tell the guy the simplest white lie. “Yea, guess you wouldn’t.”

—or—

the one where Buck and Eddie meet on a random Wednesday at a baseball game

Language: English Words: 6,091 Chapters: 1/1

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania 

9-1-1 (TV)  

After the ladder truck and the blood clot and the tsunami, Bobby makes Buck go to therapy before he does something stupid (like sue the city). Buck's not totally comfortable being alone with a therapist, but fortunately he makes a friend and ally who's willing to help him out - Eddie Diaz from the 136 who's just been caught in an illegal fight club.

—or—

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

Language: English Words: 10,491 Chapters: 1/1

i'd spend a lifetime giving you my heart by hammersmiths

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Well,” Buck says. “I’ve had worse first dates.” The man looks unimpressed. “We fell fifty feet, got trapped beneath a building, your legs are pinned, and you’re telling me you’ve had worse?” Buck thinks about this. “Well, Veronica liked the Red Sox.”

—or—

There's an earthquake. Buck and Eddie meet trapped together.

Language: English Words: 10,438 Chapters: 1/1

No Strings Attached by Princessfbi

9-1-1 (TV)  

The app had tattled on him with a little note at the bottom of the screen: EDDIE HAS TAKEN A SNAPSHOT But could you blame him? ‘Sorry’ Eddie had messaged only feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught. ‘You want to move over to texting? You won’t have to screenshot. 😉

Language: English Words: 9,162 Chapters: 1/1

accidentally killing an octopus is just fishing by HMSLusitania

9-1-1 (TV)

Buck gets injured on a call and winds up taking some time at the hospital. Fortunately, his hospital roommate makes it much more bearable.

Language: English Words: 8,573 Chapters: 1/1

see you later (and love you just a little more) by hattalove

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Sorry,” Eddie says suddenly, with a little frown between his eyebrows that makes Buck’s next breath come in a wheeze. “I didn’t even ask if you’re okay. Any anxiety? Shortness of breath, irregular heartbeat?” “Not—uh,” Buck coughs, trying so hard to say something normal, but against his best efforts, what comes out is: “Not because of the elevator.” Eddie’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “I’m not claustrophobic, is what I mean,” Buck says, but the damage has been done. “Just, you know.”

—or—

The one in which Buck stumbles on the rest of his life in a malfunctioning courthouse elevator.

Language: English Words: 8,047 Chapters: 1/1

Yellow Is Your Colour by Tizniz

9-1-1 (TV)  

The 118 responds to a call about a man stuck in a slide.

Language: English Words: 4,800 Chapters: 1/1

fight the break of dawn by glorious_spoon

9-1-1 (TV)  

“Hi, hi, sorry, excuse me,” the guy says. “Weird question, but would you mind doing me a massive favor?”

Eddie squints at him. It’s not exactly well-lit in here, but he’s still about ninety percent sure that this guy was not with Emilio’s bachelor party when they came in. “Do I know you?”

“Um. No,” the guy says. He’s got wide blue eyes and a nervous smile and a salt-rimmed margarita glass clutched in one large hand. As Eddie watches, he glances over his shoulder, then hunches down like he’s trying to hide. Given the size of him, it’s more ridiculous than effective. “So this is going to sound completely nuts, and I promise I’ll explain, but can I throw this frozen margarita in your face and call you a jerk?”

Language: English Words: 4,736 Chapters: 1/1

(Friendly reminder I do not own any of the works listed in this post, and all can be located on archiveofoureown.org)

[scorpiussage]

How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?

Part 1/?

Pairing: Johnathan Crane x Reader

Summary: Injured and on the lam, Johnathan takes refuge in the first place he finds. Unfortunately for you, that’s your apartment. 

It’s been a ridiculously long day. First you missed your morning bus, then someone ate your lunch out of the fridge. And when it was finally time to go home, all the roads were blocked off because of some business with that Batman character. By the time you do actually get home, it’s the middle of the night and you can barely stand. Only barely remembering to remove your shoes, you collapse into bed still wearing your work clothes. 

It takes you far longer than you would like to admit to realize someone is in your bed next to you. 

…

Johnathan Crane is injured and terrified and that leads him to make rather unfortunate decisions. Mainly being that he decides to break into the first apartment he finds to quickly patch himself up. That then turns into him sitting down for just a moment to catch his breath which then leads to him falling asleep. It’s basic math honestly, he doesn’t know why you’re freaking out about all of this. 

“You can’t just break into someone’s place and sleep in their bed!” you screech at him, your hands flailing wildly and drawing his attention to your wrinkled pantsuit. 

“Ugh, please tell me you weren’t actually going to go to sleep in your suit?” Jonathan sneers, “What a slob of a woman. Get it together.” 

You gape at him stupidly for a moment, trying to process the insult he’s just delivered to you. If this stranger wasn’t clearly injured and trying to hide it, you would bitch slap the fuck out of this asshole. However, even the king of douche’s can’t stem your empathetic side. 

“You’re hurt,” you say softly, gesturing to the makeshift bandage job he’s applied to his face and hands. You suspect there’s more but it’s hidden by his clothes. 

He scowls at your words and adverts his gaze, “Nothing life threatening, I assure you.” 

Ugh, you can’t just throw this guy out onto the street no matter how much you want to. 

You were just telling your mom you wanted a dog, but you definitely didn’t mean this. 

“Who are you anyways?” You ask while rummaging in your dresser for your pajamas. You totally were going to sleep in your suit but now that this jerk is judging you, you decide to change. 

The man sniffs derisively and arranges himself more comfortably in your bed, “None of your concern. You may call me Johnathan or Dr. Crane.” 

The name sounds sort of familiar but you’re way too tired to care. 

“It’s customary to introduce yourself once someone has given you their name,” Johnathan snaps, his mean scowl made less intimidating by his cracked glasses. 

You give your name with a roll of your eyes, “Let me be clear, you’re only here until you heal. Then you go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.” 

With that you flop back down onto your bed and pass out. 

…

The next morning goes about as normally as it could considering there’s a complete stranger suddenly living in your apartment. I mean, you weren’t murdered or raped in your sleep so honestly not as bad as it could’ve been. 

You drag yourself from bed, noting that Johnathan has already gotten up and has made quick work of using all the hot water. You grumble to yourself as you quickly wash yourself off in ice cold water. This is only temporary, you tell yourself. When you get out of the shower, you’re far too exhausted to sort through your laundry, so you just do a sniff test to see what’s clean. That’s when Johnathan sticks his head into your room to tell you something, only to see you doing this. The disgusted look he gives you would normally cause you to feel monumental embarrassment, but again, you’re way too tired to care. 

Jonathan has elected to make breakfast for the two of you, though he complains quite loudly about how little food you have in your fridge and pantry. You just eat the food, keeping your biting retorts to yourself, and hurry out the door when it’s time to leave for work. You pray to whatever gods there may be that he’s gone by the time you get back. 

Unfortunately, you’ve never been lucky. 

…

“Don’t you have your own place to live in?” You demand after a week of playing hostess to Dr. Prissypants. 

Johnathan sniffs primly and says like it isn’t a big deal, “Not at the moment, no. Certain events have led to me needing to lay low for a bit. Besides I-,” 

You already stopped listening when he said ‘no’. The guy really loves to hear himself talk, you think, as you tug on your suit jacket, getting ready to leave for another grueling day in hell at work. If you give him even an inch, he takes a whole fucking mile. Maybe you should get him a hobby or something, that way he’ll be too preoccupied to bitch at you about the state of  your apartment. 

…

Johnathan Crane quickly makes himself comfortable at your expense. He’s by far the worst house guest you’ve ever seen. Never have you met someone so obnoxious and vain and egotistical as Johnathan Crane. He eats all of your food, steals all your hot water, and then has the gall to fucking complain about how awful your apartment is. Well excuse you for not becoming some rich asshole like him! The fact that he’s so hot is almost completely ruined by his terrible personality.  

Months pass like this, three to be exact, and you swear every day that goes by is more and more of your sanity lost. You’d have tossed his psychotic ass to the curb long ago if it weren’t for the fact that he was threatening your life. 

“Honestly, you’d think we live in a garbage dump with how messy you let this place get,” Johnathan lectures from his place on the couch, “You’re a terrible host.” 

Gritting your teeth you smile through the barbs, “Terribly sorry about that.” 

Someday you’ll snap and you swear you will take great pleasure in stabbing his face repeatedly. 

He’s also up to something. You’ve never caught him, but you’re certain he leaves the apartment while you’re at work and does whatever slimy jerks like him do. 

“Honestly, you call that a meal? I’ve seen pigs eat better,” and just like that, whatever you were thinking is gone from your head and replaced with incandescent rage. 

You’ll get him one of these days, you swear it.

[groversimp]

Could u write something for Zagreus and a dryad!reader ❝ the more important question is: why are you here? ❞ 💙💙💙

There’s no one like you

Zagreus x Dryad!reader (reader is implied to be fem! but it’s never specially written)

So sorry for the wait! Ty for the request!💓💓

CW: Swearing, mentions of fighting, Zag being a cocky mf

Poly!Solangelo werewolf part 3(?) will be coming out shortly!

Dryad’s are tree spirits for some context!

You peeked out from behind your tree, he was still there. He was laying on the floor- eyes closed and breathing deeply, he couldn’t have been asleep because he would open his eyes or twitch his hand every few minutes.

Being as still us humanly- err, Dryadly- possible, you crept out from behind your tree, leaving the safe comfort of your leaves. You balled your fist up, ready to punch if necessary. ‘You were scary! You could totally land a hit!’ Hopefully.

You stood above him, glaring down at him. He was handsome alright, but he looked beaten up. A black eye, a long scar running down his cheek- gods dam who has this kid been fighting? Hades?

His eyes flutter open and widen slightly at the sight of you, “hello, my lady.” You scoffed and started walking away. “Why are you here?” He said, tracking quick and burning footsteps following after you. You glared over to him and then stopped in your tracks, spinning to face the weird stranger with hands on your hips. ❝The more important question is: why are you here? ❞ He looked surprised for a moment then gave you an amused smile, like he knew something you didn’t, “while I’m trying to escape.” What? Was he a Shade or something? No, he couldn’t be, he looks too lively. You weren’t really paying attention to his words, till you heard the phrase ‘prince of the Underworld’ escape his mouth.

“Wait”, you interrupted, “who even are you?” “I’m Zagreus.” Oh shit. The prince. Did you just sass the prince?!

Welp.

Zagreus eventually ended up leaving, though you did give him a leaf from your tree out of pity, he bid you farewell with an annoying smile and a wink.

You sighed, and closed your eyes as you let sleep take its ever-so-gentle hold on you, you should really thank Hypnos one of these days.

You were awoken by heavy breathing and groans of pain. You opened your eyes just to see Zagreus again! Except this time he was severely injured and bleeding.

He muttered soft “ow”’s and hisses of pain as you fixed him up with the little medical knowledge you had. You had encouraged him to continue, and he did so with a smile! You heard he even made it to see Meg, but she did end up kicking his ass.

His visits would continue like that. You two had become close, Zagreus would tell you stories of all the adventures he would go in, and talk to you about his other friends. It felt good to know that he was loved for. That he wasn’t completely alone. He showed up everyday, until the days he spent with you became fewer and fewer.

What felt like years, which was probably 3 weeks or so (time in the Underworld was always strange) from when you had last seen Zag. You wondered if he made it out, to go be with his mom. You didn’t like the idea of never seeing him again, but he deserved it. He’s worked so hard for this it’s almost impossible to be upset with him.

One day, you were cleaning out your tree when you pricked your finger on a thorn. “Ouch!” You whined, pulling your hands back and frowning. “Are you okay?” An all-too-familiar voice called out to you. You turned around so quickly you might have fallen if you hadn’t immediately ran into his arms.

Zag picked you up and spun you around. You laughed and got settled back down on your feet, the world spinning. “Why are you here?”

❝The more important question is: why are you here? ❞

He gave you the smile that you had grown too fond of and wrapped an arm around your waist, connecting your guys’ lips. You closed your eyes but you swear you could see fireworks and feel butterflies. This was perfect. Everything is just perfect.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Night Nurse

A John Wick x Helen Fic

When nurse Helen Morgan is caught in the crossfire of a shootout and aids the injured John Wick, she’s faced with two options: serve the High Table, or be executed as a Witness. She tells herself her choice to work at the Continental has everything to do with survival, and excellent pay, and *not* her growing feelings for the Tall, Dark, and Handsome Assassin™ who got her into this mess in the first place, thank you very much.

I.

John didn’t take the subway often, but with the Mustang in the shop after an unfortunate incident involving a mark, a concrete pole, and the ‘Stang’s door—two out of three survived—his machine was in Aurelio’s capable hands, and John Wick was on foot.

It was a chain of events that might have caused him to send a thank you to the unfortunate Serbian—if the man hadn’t been, you know, dead. Because it was the cause and effect that eventually led to John laying eyes on her for the first time. Dressed in rose-pink nurse’s scrubs, her thick auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, clearly exhausted from a twelve-hour shift—she’d looked up at him over the top of her book, and the shine in her amber-brown eyes took his breath away.

Her choice of reading material had been…interesting. Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky. A solid classic, to be sure, but so god-damned depressing.

John never made small talk with strangers. So when the words, “Some light reading for the evening commute?” spilled from his mouth completely without his permission, it was like watching himself from outside his own body.

She’d lowered her book a fraction to offer him a tired smile. She was beautiful, and he was sure that strangers tried to chat her up on the subway all the time. Way to be that guy, he chided himself, hanging on the possibility all the while that this exquisite creature might deign to let him hear her voice just once.

It had been a long week, but really? Maybe he was going soft in his old age. He wasn’t actually old, to be sure. He’d be thirty-nine in a few months. For an assassin though?

Practically ancient.

She’d turned the book to glance at the cover. It was a well-worn paperback edition with a dour looking painting of a man in a doorway. She wrinkled her nose, and it was fucking adorable. “I’m trying to read more classics,” she admitted.

“How is that going?”

He didn’t know where he got the cheek to tease this total stranger about her reading selection. Maybe it was the fact that she was actually reading a paper book, over endlessly scrolling through an electronic device. Maybe he was a book snob—ok, he was a book snob—but paper, in his opinion, was the proper way to go.

Kindle readers just smelled like plastic and the sadness of modern convenience.

“Okay. It’s good, but this Raskolnikov is fainting a lot.”

“That’s Russians for you,” said John, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. He’d certainly seen a few when he approached. Lots of fleeing and yelling, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled at a stranger.  

“Oh really?” She lifted her eyebrows, laughing a little. Those eyes sparkled with mirth, glittering like good liquor in a sunbeam, and his heart ached as though clenched by a fist.

“Yeah.”

She shook her head, her book resting in her lap. He’d won her attention—and to be honest, he wasn’t really sure what to do with it after coming this far.

“Are you…Ukrainian or something?” He felt her looking him up and down. He liked it, when she looked at him. He always dressed well, but for once he was glad for it for some other reason besides the tactical armor sewn into the lining of his bespoke suit jacket.

“Belarussian,” he found himself admitting to this woman without a thought.

It had been a lifetime, since he’d admitted that to anyone.

She was good. She’d make an incredible operative, he found himself thinking. If she’d asked for his address or his social security number, (fake as it was), he might have given that up too.

“Wow. I never would have guessed.”

No one did. He’d worked hard to lose his accent, so he could slip through society unnoticed when he needed to. First for the Ruska Roma, then for himself.

“I’ve been here a while,” he admitted quietly, looking down, suddenly feeling as though he’d shared much too much with this woman who was kind enough to speak to a stranger on the subway. The fuck do you think you’re doing, Wick?

“Well…I’m from Boston. It’s not nearly as interesting, but I feel like a foreigner here sometimes.”

John looked up at her then, a lock of hair fallen over his eyes. “I never would have guessed,” he parroted in perfect deadpan, and it won him a smile that utterly melted his black little heart. He felt his mouth doing that alien thing again—smiling. A small one, to be sure, but it was definitely more exercise for those muscles than they’d received in a year. Years, maybe. A lifetime?

“Gee, thanks. I’m Helen, by the way.”

She extended her hand, and he could not stop himself from clasping that small mitt in his own. She felt delicate in his grasp. Breakable. He hated that that was the first thing he assessed when shaking someone’s hand. He couldn’t turn it off.  

“John.”

She raised an eyebrow, that sparkle back in her eyes.

“John from Belarus, huh?”

Fuck him, but was he actually blushing?  

“Most people trip over Jardani.”

And there it was. The most truth he’d told anyone about himself since he was a wet-behind-the-ears young man.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“What a shame. It has a nice ring to it. Jardani.”

The sound of his true name on her lips did things to him that he knew he didn’t entirely understand. An additional side effect: it seemed he couldn’t let her go. A long moment passed between them—what felt like an infinity—of heavy eye contact with her hand in his. It set off fireworks in his heart, and finally he released her as though he’d been burned.

“Sorry.”

She canted her head, that thick russet ponytail flipping over her shoulder. He wanted to run his hands through it, and in that moment he knew he must be losing his mind.

“Don’t be.”

The train slowed, and reluctantly she stood from her seat, steadying herself with her hand on the pole he also grasped like a lifeline. “This is my stop.” He nodded, feeling like an idiot, not entirely sure why, or what had just happened, really. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too. Helen. From Boston.”

She smiled again, and if he could have bottled the feeling it called up in him, he would have synthesized the most addictive street drug on the planet.

“Don’t hold it against me,” she threw over her shoulder as she made her way with the crowd for the doors, the glitter in her eyes hitting him like a punch to the gut.

He could think of several things he would have liked to hold against her, none of which were acceptable to mention in polite company. So he simply held up his hand in a silent wave, feeling as though he’d lost something precious as the doors slid closed, and the train carried him away from the one truly good thing he’d found in this city

What came next bordered on questionable behavior, John knew.

The next week—because he at least had that much self-control left—he found himself riding the subway again, at the exact same time as before, reasoning that she might regularly get off a seven o’clock shift at the hospital nearby, and catch this train, to go home somewhere in Brooklyn.

He had not followed her home. Not even to satisfy his later curiosity, wondering if like a total lovestruck idiot he’d revealed a piece of his mysterious past to an undercover operative working for some secret—no doubt nefarious—goal.

Another week went by, before he happened upon her again. She was reading a different book this time. Moby Dick. Not bad, considering what a goddam brick was Crime and Punishment. She was a fast reader. He wasn’t sure why that titillated him so fucking much.

He didn’t approach her this time. He did have self-control. He did. He did! Even though he immediately conjured the perfect opening line. Call me Ismael. He simply stood in nearly the same place as last time, one hand on the pole, the other scrolling through nothing on his phone, while secretly stealing glances her way.

Fuck, but she was stunning. That thick hair pulled back made her neck miles long, and her profile could have inspired the Renaissance sculptors of Italy to weep. Even in those shapeless lavender scrubs, he could see that she was tall, and fit, but curved in the most heartbreaking places. John appreciated feminine beauty, certainly, but it was rare that he felt such a visceral reaction to a woman’s charms. It was as though just the sight of her triggered something long buried in his heart, something that had been sleeping all along, waiting.

Either that, or he was, at long last, going off the deep end.  

Engrossed in her reading, she did not notice him until the crowd shifted and she stood for her stop, her face lighting up with a smile when her eyes met his. She held her hand up in a wave, but did not pause in her mission to get off the train and go home. He couldn’t blame her, even when a part of him wanted to follow.  

God, but the feat of self-control it took, not to follow.

Pathetic.

It didn’t stop him from making it a habit, long after he got the Mustang back from Aurelio.

Sometimes, when he won the odds of picking just the right train and just the right car (she seemed to prefer the second to last, and the train schedule wasn’t always reliable), they would exchange a few sentences about books, or the weather. He hung on her every word, even though she usually teased him the entire conversation. No one spoke to him like that, he realized. No one in his world dared. It was as refreshing as it was jarring, and like a junkie needing a fix he just found himself craving more.

Other times, he would play it cool, and pretend to work on email on his phone after offering a reserved smile or a raised hand in hello.

She always had a book, and he determined that she was probably relieved on the evenings when he didn’t bother her. Yet, the next time he won the odds of picking the right train, she came over to him, steadying herself with her hand below his on the pole.

He was achingly aware of how close their hands rested on that metal rod. She cradled a new book under her arm. A red paperback, with a shadowed outline of a woman behind a V. He could just make out the title over her arm. Codename Villanelle. Noticing where his attention was fixed, she looked up at him with a sly little grin, and he knew he was in for it.

He could hardly wait.

“Bet you thought I was pretty brainy before. But the truth is I’m hopelessly addicted to spy novels. Assassins, intrigue, exotic locales?” She gave an exaggerated shiver with an insouciant grin. “I’m trash for it.”

John felt his mouth doing that strange thing it did around her, the corners turning up, his eyebrows raising. So, she liked assassins, did she? If only she knew.

“No judgement here. Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty entertaining so far. Smart, too. And I like reading about exotic locales I'll probably never get to visit. Paris, Rome, London…”

John canted his head, fixing her with that stare that she’d begun to think could see right through her. “What makes you so certain about that?”

Helen shrugged and waved down at her scrubs with a lifted eyebrow. He fought very hard not to follow the exact motion of her hand with his eyes, the way he did when he was pretending his attention lay elsewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to infer from the gesture though. A lack of money working as a nurse? Lack of time off?

Whatever her perceived barriers, he had to bite his tongue, heading off on the urge to offer to take her to those places, and anywhere else she might like to go while they were at it.  

“Anyway.” She nodded down at the book. “No fainting Russians in this one. They’re pretty tough.”

John had watched one do just that due to blood loss just the other night, but decided it would be best not to mention it.

“I think you might be the last woman on the planet reading paper books.” 

“I prefer paper,” she admits. “Plus, when you're engrossed in your paper book, no one is going to snatch it.” 

“That happened to you?”

“Yeah, I lost a Kindle that way a couple years ago. The guy was probably disappointed it wasn’t an iPad, but still.”

John frowned, looking around like the offending thief might be on the train at that very moment. She rewarded him with an appreciative, if not knowing little smile. “Now it's paperbacks for me.” Her eyebrow lifted, the way he had come to anticipate with almost child-like enjoyment. It made him feel like she was letting him in on a secret.

It made him feel like they were almost…friends.

“It makes it hard to read raunchy romance novels in public though,” she confessed. “Their covers are so ridiculous.”

John found himself cracking a smile at that—a wide one this time, even going so far as to show teeth, just for a second. 

“50 Shades is a heavy tome to lug around.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“I have better taste than that, at least. I prefer some history with my romance.”

“Like, time traveling nurse in eighteenth century Scotland, history?” he teased, certain he’d overheard such a thing being the next popular craze the last time he’d been in a bookshop.

“You know, I wanted to like those books, they're beautifully written, but Gabaldon lost me in the first one with that dash of glorified spousal abuse. I just couldn't get past it.”

John’s expression pulled in a frown. “I didn't know. I'm surprised they're so popular.”

"I guess it never hurts that there's a TV show." She lifted an eyebrow, like they were in on a joke about books that were turned into movies. It was adorable. Everything she fucking did was adorable, and every passing minute John felt himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell. He found himself imagining a life in which they did have inside jokes, and laughed about them together by just sharing a secret look from across the room.

Could he be so lucky.  

She moved a fraction closer, presumably so that she could hear better. Yet with his arm up on the pole, it almost gave the illusion that she was standing within the shelter of his body. He liked that, maybe a little too much.  

“We keep talking about me. What kind of books do you like to read?”

He lowered his head down closer to her, drawn like a moth to the flame.

“You're going to think I'm a book snob.” 

“Oh no. You only read classics?” He was eighty percent sure she was teasing him.

“Yeah, mostly. And...”

What was it about this woman that made him want to bare his soul to her? To tell her every little private thing?

“And, what?” she goaded. “Come on, you can't leave me hanging now.”

“I bind books,” he admitted. “It’s...a hobby.” He didn’t know why he felt ridiculous admitting that. Like he was a fraud, pretending to have a pastime like a real, normal, human being.

“Wow. That's amazing.”

It wasn’t the response he expected. The light in her eyes filled him with a spreading warmth. It was utterly addicting, this feeling she inspired in him.

“I enjoy it.”

“So are you an artist? Do you make the pages, or do you repair old manuscripts?”

It was an astute question, and he felt himself warming to her even more.

“Repair, mostly. I pick things up at auction, or rare bookstores, that just need...to be put back together again.”

He didn’t really want to think about the psychological implications of a man who had been torn to pieces more than once, taking solace in repairing something that would outlast him, with any luck.

She looked up at him with a gentleness in her polished mahogany eyes that twisted his insides.

“I can understand that.”

“You're a nurse?” He realized that he’d assumed, but she’d never actually told him as much.

“An RN, actually. In the emergency room at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“You must be great under pressure.” 

“I guess. I just...like helping people who have had a bit of bad luck. I feel like...we're putting the universe to rights again, in some little way.” The weight of John’s stare maybe caused her to add, “Wow, that sounds conceited.”

He shook his head, unable to form words around the pesky lump that had formed in his throat. He spent his life sowing chaos across the globe, snuffing out lives, while this lovely woman saved them. A chill settled in his bones, as he realized that this should be the last time he spoke to her, for her own sake.

He had no right to contaminate her light with the shadow of his presence.

The thought of never seeing her again made a sickly tremor run from his heart to his limbs, his grip white-knuckling on the pole. He realized she was waiting for an answer. That was how conversations worked. Someone said something, then you were supposed to say something back. Finally he managed to get out something true: “I think you're amazing.” 

“Ok.” She raised an eyebrow, searching his face, and he felt like she could see straight through him too. “It would be more convincing if you didn't frown when you said it.”

Again, she was teasing him. Kind of.  

He sighed, wanting to bang his head on the metal pole. “I mean...it’s not you. It’s…”

Me. 

I'm a monster. The Baba Yaga. The Boogeyman. The Thing That Goes Bump In The Night.

She waited patiently, looking so earnestly up at him that he could have cried. He could neither even fathom where to begin to tell her the truth of his thoughts, or bring himself to offer a lie when she looked at him like that. He was acutely aware of the seconds ticking down of their ride. Soon, they might never see each other again.

“How about this,” she inserted into the silence between them, seemingly throwing out a lifeline. “You could tell me about it over dinner. There's a great Thai place just down the street from my stop.”

Was she asking him in a date? Or did she just think the seemingly harmless nut job she'd befriended on the train needed someone to talk to? He hoped she didn't pick up strays so readily, for her own safety, but he already knew she had a bigger heart than most. 

“I—”

John couldn't say what exactly tipped him off. A change in the air. The specific angle of an arm in the crowd reaching for a gun. The look in the man's eyes at the end of the car behind Helen.  The years and years of hard-won experience. But he knew he had a split second to make a choice. Save himself and eliminate the shooter—or save her and take some damage.

He did not think before reacting. Not really. He grabbed her and spun, shielding her with his larger body and his armor-tailored suit. He felt at least three bullets strike him in the back before he lost count. Jesus fucking christ that hurt.

“Stay down,” he ordered, tucking her behind a row of seats, and whipping off his jacket to cover her. Stupid, maybe, to give up that advantage, but if something happened to her he wasn’t sure he wanted to survive.

He really was getting tired of this shit. 

While the attacker reloaded John sprang, knocking the gun away just as the new clip slid home. The man drew a knife, making a quick swipe that grazed Johns ribs. He slashed twice more, both times John barely skipped out of reach. The third time John blocked and twisted the man's arm, trying to break it. The attacker had training though, and he wormed away. They grappled, exchanging strikes. John couldn't go for his gun, both hands occupied with keeping that knife out of his body. He failed a little, the tip of the blade sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. Through gritted teeth John backed him off with a head butt and a kick. He found the attacker’s gun had skittered off under the seat, just in reach. As the attacker reared to throw the knife John shot him with a single round through the head.

By this time most of the passengers had retreated to the adjoining cars, screaming. But Helen remained, and rather than run for safety she rushed to his side, assessing the damage. “Oh my god, John!”

He groaned as she applied pressure to the wound in his shoulder. “I have a first aid kit in my backpack. But we have got to get you to the hospital.” 

“No time. No hospital,” he found himself insisting through gritted teeth. The train slowed to a stop. The doors whooshed open. They had to go. John pushed to his feet, taking one last disdainful look at his attacker’s corpse before exiting. 

By some stroke of luck, The Continental wasn't far from that stop, though in the shape he was in, it could have been in Mongolia. When he stumbled Helen was there, supporting him with his uninjured arm around her shoulders. She was stronger than he imagined, and even in the middle of all the chaos he couldn’t stop himself from adding it to the list of things that made this woman endlessly attractive to him.

“Where do you think you're going?” she demanded. “Wait for the paramedics. It was clearly self-defense! I’ll tell them.” 

People were seeing the body in the train car, and despite some people’s morbid efforts to film the carnage, pandemonium was breaking loose. They had to ride the wave of the crowd to the surface without getting trampled.  

“Can’t,” he managed to get out. “You...should go.” It killed him to say it aloud. 

“Are you kidding? I'm not leaving you!”

He didn't have the time or the energy to fight with her. Never mind that his black heart rejoiced with a full-out aria to hear her say those words as they spilled out on the street. He would try again closer to the Continental. It was just a block away. 

When an ambulance and police car raced past with sirens blazing he felt Helen tense, and knew she meant to flag them down. He tightened his grip on her, even though it hurt like a sonofabitch, turning them so that they partially hid behind a news stand. He could feel the heat of a fresh surge of blood seeping beneath his shirt.

She looked up at him with those beautiful, bright brown eyes held wide. Lost, confused, but somehow, not afraid. This woman did have a nerve of steel. “John?”

She was a smart woman. She was putting two and two together. A man who’d killed his attacker on the subway and was avoiding official assistance probably had a few more things of his own to hide.

“It’s ok, Helen.” He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to kiss her right then, with her body tucked up against his in their dark little nook on the street. “But you really should go now.”

Again, she shook her head, and he sighed. He could see the Continental in the distance, that distinctive sharp corner jutting out, a beacon of hope for creatures of the Underworld like him. He could feel his body going cold with blood loss. He needed to get to Doc, and sanctuary, and hopefully find out what the fuck that shit on the subway had been about.

But then again, he mused, as they started walking again, maybe he was the one going soft. Keeping a regular routine like he’d been doing the past month—or was it two?—made a man like him quite the target.

He knew better. He’d known better all along, but…he hadn’t cared. He’d come this far—survived this long—purely as an act of defiance, as anything. Defiance of those who took him when he was just a child, and who had moulded him into the killer he was today for their own ends. Made him their servant, practically their slave. At last, he almost had freedom, or the closest one could get to it, in this life. He looked to the worried woman at his side, and wondered if this would be the stunt that brought him too close to the sun.

As they scaled the steps of the Continental Helen looked upon the opulent portal with a frown. “You want to go to a fancy hotel over a hospital?”

He paused at the front door, leaning against the frame. Hopefully, not leaving a bloodstain the staff would have to clean up. He tried to be a considerate guest. It was one of the many reasons they liked him here. He wasn’t sure he could quite say that Charon and Winston were his friends—but they weren’t his enemies. That went a long way in their world.

“There’s a doctor here I know,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.” Maybe it was the blood loss, or maybe just the exquisite agony of her standing so near, even if just to keep pressure on the wound at his shoulder. Even after a long day at the hospital, she smelled sweet, like honey and healing herbs. He would remember her for the rest of his life, short as it may prove, with aching fondness. He felt emboldened to cup the side of her face in his large hand, taking what he was sure would be his last opportunity to look into those brilliant caramel-colored eyes. “You need to go,” he told her quietly. “You don’t belong in my world.”

It hurt worse than getting stabbed, saying those words.

Rather than obey this, what he certainly thought was, an ominous but heartfelt warning, she frowned, heat flaring in her eyes like sparking embers. She was angry, he realized, and it was ridiculous how it made his heart—and things lower—flutter. Bookish Helen chatting on the subway was adorable. Angry Nurse Helen was fucking hot.

“You idiot. I’m not leaving you until I know you’re in good hands. Come on, then.”

She caught him up with the force of a hurricane, practically dragging him inside the building, and she probably would have started barking orders to bring a doctor to the well-dressed and dangerous-eyed patrons milling in the lobby, had Charon not materialized before them with an expression of polite concern. “Mr. Wick. It appears you are out of sorts.”

“Yes, I’ve had an accident. Can I get a room, and the services of the good Doc?”

“Certainly.” Charon, bless him, already had a key in his hand. “And your…companion?”

Helen stood in this opulent lobby in her pink scrubs with little daisies printed on the shirt with a spine of steel and her chin lifted like a lioness, daring the concierge to tell her she couldn’t be there.

“I vouch for her,” sighed John, knowing that the consequences of those four little words weighed heavier than Helen could possibly know.

“Very well, sir. Please, follow me.”

CHAPTER II. A03

[blank-slate-jay]

first time doing this so yeah

sort of snowy vibe where reader manages to defend himself and kill a bear but not without getting injured

joel's out there for whatever reason you like and sees the whole thing, basically feels obligated to help this random stranger because it wouldn't sight right with him to leave them bleeding out in the snow? he like patches the wounds n stuff

loved the secret admirer one and i saw the post so i thought id give this a go! sorry if its weird

Heal My Wounds, Heal My Heart

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count:2.6k

Tags: Comfort, Injury, Blood, Soft!Joel, Nightmares, mention of alcohol, mention of death

A/N: Not weird at all Anonymous, thanks for the request! I actually learned more about bear behavior writing this funny enough. Glad you liked one of my previous fic, hope you take a liking to this one. Enjoy!

Shots rang out between your heavy grunts and the growls of the rageful mammal. You had stepped into its territory, not purposefully and completely unbeknownst to you. You were just trying to get by, just trying to find a safe place to rest before dark. Everything was peaceful up till that point until you were faced with a bear, a fairly aggressive one that charged at you. 

Seeing it afar, you were obligated to turn around and leave its sight. The moment it saw you, it was instantly startled by your presence, halting its interest in catching any food near the lake and standing on its hind legs.

It was likely scared, as the bear itself wasn’t very large, likely still in its earlier years. Maybe the young mammal was just gonna watch as you walked back into the woods, but no. It charged at you, either threatened by you or perhaps desperate for any source of meat. 

Intentions didn’t matter, the animal was charging you down and you took shots at it. They weren’t as effective as you thought, the small bullets looked as if they barely fazed it. What didn’t help was your shaking hands, after running out of bullets, you needed to reload. You groan, making a split second decision to just run. Fighting a bear head on, would make for a cool story if the odds weren’t stacked in your favor. Not to mention you needed to actually survive the encounter to tell the tale, which wouldn’t be likely if you tried being a badass. 

Your steps clashed with the snow below, attempting to run as fast as you could. The snow wasn’t deep, rather thin enough to see the grass still sticking out. Running proved to be effective, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You didn’t know how long you ran, just focusing on finding any way to ensure safety. In the back of your head, you knew it was just something to give you comfort in this hopeless situation, nothing was gonna save you from this other than your own wit or luck. 

Unfortunately your tactic wasn’t good enough cause you felt a sharp pair of claws strike your back. You scream out, falling into the harsh ground with a thud, the blades of the greenery engulfed your face. 

With your face in the ground, you knew this was it. Your end wasn’t going to be by a clicker, a horde or even a person; but an animal, definitely not something you expected would come to be. 

You groaned into the soil, anticipating its sharp teeth to sink in your skin. Even with the layer of clothes you had on, you were sure the bear would have no problem getting through. 

Everything felt like it was going in slow-motion, preparing for your last moments to be filled with growls from the beast. What came instead, was a gunshot. It sounded heavy, causing the bear to growl once more, turning its attention away from you. The heavy bullet pegged its neck before another hit its skull as it tried running. The mammal went down, collapsing a couple of feet away from your legs. 

Hearing nothing, other than your own quick breaths, had a sense of relief washing over you. You were saved from being mauled. But by who? The question repeats in your head becoming a lot more unsettling when realizing it was a person; a total stranger. Your condition only made you fearful as you pushed yourself onto your elbows. Looking up, you glance in the direction of the ever growing footsteps. A man, dressed in a thick brown coat, walked over to you with his weapon in hand. He stopped just beside you, making it hard to see his face. 

You mumble, “Help…please…”, seeing if the man was dangerous or not. Chances were he’d just put you out of your misery, after seeing what had transpired.  

He didn’t, the man pulls the strap of his weapon over his shoulder, and kneels down to you. The man looks you over, seeing the dark red slashes across your coated back. 

“Damn”, he murmured observing the long trail that went down your back. The beast got you good. He leans his hand into your shoulder, “Can you walk?”

“I think, yeah.” 

There was some doubt in your voice, but at least you were cohesive. The man would’ve taken any answer that implied you could function. “C’mon, you're not safe out here.” 

The man pulled you up until you were on your knees. He then gets in front of you, getting his hands under your arms, and yanking you to your feet. The whole process had you wincing. 

Finally standing you started to feel light-headed. You lean into the man, accidentally, feeling your balance becoming unsteady. You grapple onto his bicep to keep from falling. In turn the man grabs your sides, “Easy.”

It was difficult, with your head feeling like it was going to implode. The man then let out a whistle. You assumed it was for his horse, cause there was no way he was out walking aimlessly like you were. This man looked like he had himself situated compared to you. 

You waited, both hearing the sounds of the horses' hooves growing closer; along with a neigh. 

You looked back at the deceased bear, and then turned back to the man, who continued to hold you upright, “Thank you”. 

He nods. Although his face was mostly stone cold, there was a glint of concern behind his eyes. 

The horse had slowed its pace just outside the two’s reach. The man carefully walked you over, allowing you to lean your head into his shoulder. Strangely he didn’t seem to mind at all. He lets you take a second to put your weight into the horse, breathing out you try hoisting yourself up, failing with the pain. He had to help you onto the horse, before he himself got up into the front. 

Grabbing the reins, he looks over his shoulder, “Hold on, gonna be awhile.”

You do just that, wrapping your arms around his waist. He was off, taking you somewhere you weren’t sure of. Regardless of where, you were sure he had no bad intentions.

“What’s your name”, you asked.

He hesitates and doesn’t answer right away. You thought he might not have heard you, but he does indeed reply, “Joel.”

From there on you two remained silent throughout the ride, say for the occasional grunts that slipped out of you. You squeezed the man each time the sharpness increases, randomly. It made the ride agonizing to sit through, making the journey feel much longer.

The horse came to a slow stop near a small cabin. You don’t know where you were anymore, you’d had your eyes closed for most of the ride, and your mind was too focused on the pain. 

The man, Joel, got off the horse, helping you down and taking you into the house. He set you down onto the couch, careful not to touch your back. He steps away, removing both his jacket and going over to retrieve some supplies. 

Sitting on the couch you couldn’t help leaning forward as just across from you was a fire, a small one within the fireplace, it was enough heat to keep you from shivering.

Joel had returned with a bucket in hand, along with what looked to be a first aid kit. He sets the supplies down on the table just in front of the couch. "Arms up," he says.

You really didn't want to, but at the same time, you needed something to ease the pain. You lifted them up, gritting your teeth harshly. Joel had helped remove all your layers until you were completely shirtless. It felt strange being this exposed to someone you just met not even an hour ago.

His eyes lingered on you for a bit, observing features of you that weren't even freshly injured, He was supposed to be telling you to turn around, but it looked like he might've got distracted.

You reminded him of what he was about to do, by putting your back to him hoisting your one leg onto the couch while the other is placed on the floor. "How bad does it look?"

Your question got him back on track, causing him to furrow his brows at the sight. His hesitation to say was probably more telling than a response. The scratches were rather dark now, beginning to swell in some areas with strains of blood leaking down. "Pretty bad," he says, grabbing the rag from inside the bucket of water, "It looks like it might be getting infected."

"Oh great..." you comment, hearing the man squeeze the rag drag dry. His weight hit the couch behind you, causing you to shift while he scoots closer to you.

"Ready?"

You hummed, straightening up your posture. He didn't even give you another second after responding to prepare, the cold rag ran up one of the sharp trails, getting you to yelp. “Damn,” you whined, your fingers digging into the cushion.

“Thought you were ready,” the man says wiping away at all the red.

“And I’d thought you’d be more gentle.”

This got Joel to huff, amused by your retort. He ran another stroke across the next scratch. “Seems gentle ain’ suit you.” He noticed the other scars along your body, some overlapping the others. What stories were behind those, he wondered.

You raised your brow, gritting your teeth, “Why you say that?”.

He wanted to point out the old scars but refused, and that case he’d have to admit he was looking you over, “Not often you come across someone who travels alone. Usually people stick to groups. Seems odd you ain’ in one.”

“I get that a-lot, everybody I've run into thinks I'm a distraction. They believe I'm bait for a group, and that they'll jump out and kill them."

Joel knew that mentality well, after all he’s been on both sides of said scenario. It was haunting how many people he killed during those days, at least he now had a keen eye for when something like that was about to go down.

He hums. After rubbing off all the blood, he reaches over to the table again, pulling out a second rag, the used rag gets dumped into the bucket to rinse. Joel also opens up the first aid kit, pulling out a tiny container of alcohol. "I don't get that impression from you," the man assumes, poring a small bit of the liquor into the cloth.

"Really," you piped up carefully looking over your shoulder.

The man glares back at you. "Yeah, really."

The corner of your lips rose, at last someone wasn't accusing you of being a raider. From his relaxed voice, there wasn't much evidence to assume he was lying. The fact that he even thought about helping you should've been enough to disprove any suspicion. Although, saying your thoughts out loud would make you a hypocrite.

You couldn't trust everybody of course, but assuming everyone was untrustworthy wouldn't be of much advantage to you.

Joel finished patching you up, through applying alcohol, adding a couple of stitches, and bandaging the long scrapes; you could finally just relax. He had told you, you could stay and even offering to make a bed out of a couple of blankets. You thanked him and preferred to stay rested on the sofa where you had dosed off not long after.

You shook through the night, jerking and twitching each time you felt the cutting sensation run up your back. It made sleeping impossible, and the moment you did fall asleep, a nightmare was awaiting you inside your unconscious state. You dreamed of its claws, the jagged teeth, the crushing weight above you; playing the outcome of it tearing into you.

It felt real, too concrete, you could've swore the dream was reality, and you being saved was an outcome you made up in your head within the few seconds you had left to live.

You awoke to a slight brush run against your arm. You were still half seated in the sofa, only now leaning into the back cushion with one shoulder. You nearly jumped up at the sudden touch, thinking again you were still in the horrid dream. You couldn't be more relieved to see that it was just Joel, his figure looming in front of you.

"Hey," his voice comes out as a whisper.

For the first time you took a liking to the man's accent, the tenderness behind his vocals might just be the cure for your night terrors.

He continued to speak, "I heard you from the other room, sounded like a hustle out here," he explains, referring to your occasional grunts that rang out across the living room.

You realized what he was talking about, you flutter your eyes shut in humiliation, "Sorry," was all you could say. You felt obligated to explain yourself, to give him a good reason why you were causing a commotion. "Was having a bad dream. I'll try keeping it down, I-". It felt like a poor excuse but it was genuinely all you had to offer. Joel was understanding to your surprise.

"It's quite alright, I get those myself,” his face turning to a frown as he explained, with his thump stroking in rhythm on your skin.

The embarrassment, subsides, feeling a small connection with Joel. You didn’t expect someone, as gruff as he was to be disturbed by anything, let alone a passing dream. It didn’t make you doubt that his dreams were way worse then yours.

The older man breathes out, letting his hand slide off of your shoulder. No please, you thought, desiring his hands against your skin.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, but you grabbing his wrist cut him off. Both of you looked shocked, you more than him at your reflexes. You completely ignored the pain surging through your flesh, completely caught in a trans.

Your gazes tangled together, making your face feel flush. You look away and guide his hand towards your skin. His hands, massive in your grasp, fell once more into its previous position. Feelings of calmness and delight filled you again; just a strong as before.

It registers in Joel's mind, seeing how you reacted to him releasing his touch and the way your body relaxed reliving his warmth, that you enjoy it.

He decided to sit down next to you, this time in the direction you were facing, his touch never leaving your arm. The man wasn't tired anyway, lack of sleep just felt normal nowadays.

His fingers run long circles up and down your skin, getting a shaky breath out of you which managed to settle after a minute. No longer did your breath feel as if it was hitching your chest. His touch was sending small tingles all the way up your shoulder.

You started feeling your eyelids becoming heavy, becoming much harder to stay awake and savior how gentle the man was touching you. You could see through your blurred vision his head tilting in your direction from time to time, as he laid back into the cushion finding your skin comforting to caress.

You smirk thinking having some sort of company was his reason for rescuing you. With one eye peeled open you asked, "Did you save me just for this?" It was more of a drowsy joked than anything that slipped out.

He didn’t answer, he just kept his gaze focused on the wall ahead. Possibly even biting back the urge to smile. It was impossible to tell, with your ever darkening vision. You don’t know if you’ll get ab answer, most certainly not that night, and possibly never upfront. Still, the idea brought another smile to your face before drifting off into darkness.