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skzstannie · 4 months

Note

Hii it’s okay if you can’t but I was wondering if you could do a skz x 9th member reader where she was in a car crash as well as the others? But she was badly injured as well and had to be looked after by chan because she wasn’t in good condition? Totally okay if you can’t thanks❤️

"You're awake!"

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member!reader (Chan-centric)

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~3,200 cw: some cussing, car accident, reader and skz get hurt

summary: ^^ see request

A/N: Hello! Not super happy with how this came out, but I hope you still like it anon! Started a new semester, so updates will be less frequent, but I'll still be lurking in everyone's feed through likes and reblogs 👀

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

"I'm just saying, if penguin's could fly, I think they'd take over the world."

"Felix, literally what are you talking about?" you give him a strange look from where you're seated diagonal from him in the car.

"If penguins ever learned to fly, I think they'd try to overthrow the government in a vengeful fury."

You all sit in silence for a moment, trying to preserve the last of your braincells from deteriorating.

"Okay..." Seungmin responds, quirking his eyebrow at him.

"I am so excited for tonight!" you break the silence that settles, practically vibrating in your seat from the excitement.

"We know, you haven't stopped talking about it," Minho boredly comments, his phone lighting up his face from the shadowy back seat.

Jeongin throws an elbow in his side from where he's seated beside him, earning himself a nasty glare from the man. "Don't be mean to Ynnie, she's just excited to perform."

"I'm so sorry. Let me rephrase that," he clears his throat, setting his phone down in his lap, "Oh my gosh, I know! It's all you've talked about since this morning!" he squeaks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," you mumble, rolling your eyes at your grumpy member.

Before Minho has the chance to respond, your entire world is shaken when another car T-bones you from the right.

Time seems to slow down as the car is flipped, sending you out of your seat towards the ceiling of the car. Your seatbelt manages to control some of the damage to your head, but it slices into your neck from the pressure. Blood starts to drip out of your wound, but you don't even feel it as your hazy gaze travels over to your members.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes land on Felix's still body in the back seat, his eyelids draped shut. He doesn't appear to have any other injuries, but you're immediately ripped away from the sight of Felix when you hear Minho groan in pain. You Jeongin a quick once over, and upon seeing no visible injuries, keep your eyes moving. You don't miss the way Jeongin's hands are firmly grasped around Felix's forearm as he shakes the older man, trying to wake him.

It's painful to twist in your seat, but you do so anyway. Catching a glimpse of Minho, you see a jagged piece of glass protruding out of his forearm. It appears small, but you know it must still hurt like a bitch. Other than that he looks okay, so you continue to look over your remaining members. His eyes are panicked as he frantically looks over the four of you. "You guys ok?" his voice shakes with fear, and his teeth are clenched from the pain radiating from the glass in his arm.

The ringing in your ears starts to subside a bit, and the grunts coming from your right get louder. Seungmin's arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, and there's blood dripping from his left eyebrow. You can't bring yourself to answer Minho, the shock still clouding your mind.

As the rest of your senses start to come back to you, your focus remains on Seungmin as he huffs in pain. You feel a stinging sensation in your thigh, but as you slowly start to drop your head to look, you feel a shaky finger reach under your chin.

Seungmin's reached his hand out, gently pulling your chin until your eyes meet his again.

"Just keep looking at me, Yn," he whispers. You do as you're told, but the pain is worsening by the second, and your breathing starts to quicken.

All else is tuned out as your eyes remain on Seungmin's unwavering gaze.

Seconds feel like hours as you sit there in the car. Your eyelids start to become heavy, and you fuzzily catch Seungmin's eyes turn frantic as your blinks become slower and more frequent.

"Just keep your eyes open, don't fall asleep," he repeats. His word are gentle at first, but as your mind turns to mud, his voice becomes louder and urgent, almost screaming at you. You feel a rough hand grab your shoulder from behind, shaking you. Their attempts to keep you awake are futile, though, as everything becomes too much for you to handle.

"No, don't close your eyes! Stay with me!" and that's the last thing you hear before you drift off into the darkness.

~ ~ ~

You're awoken to the sound of quiet repetitive beeping.

Opening your eyes is a task all in itself, your eyelids feeling impossibly heavy.

After a moment of struggle, you're met with the bright light from a window to your right. You slowly turn your head to the side, and you see Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin all perched on the couch. It looks uncomfortable, the way all three of them are scrunched up on the little loveseat.

You let your gaze linger on them for a moment, their presence providing a calming sensation for your jumbled mind.

Suddenly, your surroundings overwhelm you. You become terribly aware of all the wires connected to you. The ECG stickers become your biggest enemy, and the IV sticking out of your hand makes you angry.

Really angry.

You groan when you try to lift your arm, a sharp, shooting pain radiating down from your shoulder. You push through the pain though, urgent to remove all these wires from your body. The bandages littering your body feel as if they're burning your skin, and you've never needed to get something off of you faster.

You begin to peel the bandages from your arms, the pain from the adhesive no match for the pain you had been feeling previous to their removal.

Your agonistic groans manage to wake Changbin, and he panics when he sees you frantically tearing at your ECG stickers.

He jumps up from the couch, earning a yelp from Hyunjin as he was using Changbin as a pillow.

You're too overwhelmed to care about their actions as you continue to tear at your skin, even the blankets covering your body feeling like burning coals on your skin.

"Woah, what are you doing? You can't take those off yet," Changbin tells you, rushing to your side to try and restrain your arms.

"They're hurting me," you mumble, wretching your arms out of Changbin's grip to continue to pull at everything that touches you.

"Yn," Hyunjin gasps, quickly standing to his feet, running over to help Changbin.

Chan awakens from the commotion, alarm bells immediately sounding in his head when he sees your panicked movements.

You become more frantic when Hyunjin grabs one of your arms from Changbin, rendering you immobile.

"Get off!" you screech, yanking on your arms as hard as you can. Chan quickly runs out of the room in search of any healthcare professional he can find.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Hyunjin struggles against you, holding tightly onto your hand.

"Let me go!" you continue to scream like a banshee, "You're hurting me!"

Neither do as you say, fearing for what you'll do to yourself if they listen.

"You're ok," Changbin pleads, bringing one of his hands away from your arm to rest it gently on your forehead. "Please calm down, everything will be ok."

You're too panicked to notice Chan re-enter the room, a nurse trailing in behind him.

She has a shot in her hand, and she hurriedly comes up beside Changbin to administer the drug. She hastily inserts the needle into your upper arm, and it only takes seconds for your demeanor to soften. Your thrashing becomes weaker, and your shouts become quieter, turning into soft mumbles.

The guys let out a sigh upon seeing your eyes close, your stature finally relaxing into the hospital bed once again.

"What the hell was that?" Hyunjin huffs, slightly out of breath from the physical altercation.

"Sometimes patients can be violent when they wake up out of a coma. It can happen to anyone," the nurse explains, taking the chart off the wall beside the bed. "We'll get some soft restraints to put on her arms before she wakes up again. It's unlikely for her to panic again, but it's just a precaution."

The guys nod, all three of them staring at your now peaceful face.

~ ~ ~

The next time you wake up, you feel as if you're experiencing deja vu. Your eyes open slowly, and you wince at the feeling of them being crusted over from sleep.

You also become strikingly aware of the aching pain radiating from your thigh. Your leg remains immobile, and you feel the constricting cast running from your mid thigh down to your ankle.

You go to bring your hand up to rub your face, but your movements are restricted. Your attention is brought to your hands, now laying limply by your side. There are restraints covering your wrists. Your face contorts into an expression of confusion, and you glance at the couch to your right.

Seated there are Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin. Your deja vu hits you harder when you see them resting against one another, sleeping soundly.

"Chan," you call out to him, your voice surprisingly hoarse, your throat scratchy and raw.

He immediately jolts up, waking the other two in the process.

"Hey, you're awake," he says, getting up from the couch.

He's cautious as he walks over to you, taking slow steps to get to your bed. Changbin and Hyunjin watch from the couch, keeping their distance. Their expressions rival Chan's, somehow looking even more timid.

"Hi," you suddenly feel shy under their gazes, "Why are you looking at me like that? I can't even move; can we get these things off of me."

"Yea, sorry, the nurse said it was just precautionary. I'll go get someone to take them off of you," Hyunjin gets up from the couch, hurrying out into the hallway.

Realization dawns on you, and you bring your eyes to meet Chan's again. "Did I hurt someone? What happened?"

"You were trying to hurt yourself," a nurse enters the room, answering the question for Chan. "You were in a coma for a couple days. Sometimes, when patients wake, they can turn aggressive. Which you did, but nobody was hurt, the boys stopped you before you could do any damage."

You just nod, not entirely sure how to respond. She explains in more detail what had happened as she takes the restraints off your wrists.

"We had to sedate you, so you were out for an additional day. On the bright side, your coma allowed for your body to do some of the tough healing while you were unconscious. You had a surgery on your thigh the night you were brought in due to a compound fracture in your femur. The surgery was successful. It seems to be doing well for now, of course we'll have to bring you back in for some check-ups, but you should be good to go for now."

Your eyes widen as she goes on and on. Chan sits beside you, rubbing a hand up and down your back to help comfort you. The nurse continues about the paperwork, and leaves to gather it so you can leave.

"How are you feeling?" Changbin asks from the end of your bed.

"Overwhelmed," you answer curtly. The thought of not being able to perform for a while hurts your heart. Not only that, but you can't even walk!

Your suddenly hit with a wave of memories from the night of the accident, and your eyes water at the thought of the rest of your members who were in the car with you.

"Are the other guys alright? Where are they?" your voice is panicked as you ramble off questions.

"They're ok, we promise," Chan reassures you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "They went home a couple days ago to rest. None of them got hurt as badly as you did. They all got some stitches, Seungmin's got a broken arm, and Felix has a pretty nasty concussion, but they're ok."

You sigh in relief, allowing your head to rest on Chan's shoulder.

The nurse comes back in, a folder filled with paperwork in hand. "As soon as you fill these out, you'll be good to go! Your medications and dosages are in this little baggy. You had some lacerations on your side, but we just covered them with butterfly bandages. The stitches on your neck can be taken out at your next appointment. Just be weary of them as you go about your day, try not to turn your head too quickly," she instructs, handing over the paperwork.

Within a few minutes, everything is filled out and you've been put in a wheelchair. Chan stands behind you, wheeling you out towards the van. Hyunjin carries your crutches from beside you, and Changbin holds your medicine and the paperwork.

Getting in the car was a hassle all in itself, as your leg felt like a million pounds with the cast on it. Your hip was so sore from laying in bed for so long, so you opted to have Chan lift you into the car.

Once finally settled, you lean back against the seat and close your eyes. You don't want to admit it, but you know these next few months are going to be difficult.

~ ~ ~

It's been a few weeks now, and things have started to go back to how they were before the accident. This is the first regularly scheduled week since then, and you're grateful for the normalcy.

Your managers had put everything on hold for a while, allowing you and the rest of your members to recover some. They knew it was a difficult time for all of you, and you were thankful for their leniency.

You have been spending most of your time on the downstairs couch, lounging around in front of the T.V. Various members would join you throughout the day, helping you with whatever you needed. Chan has certainly been the most doting, running at your every beck and call.

Today was no different; Chan decided to stay home with you while the rest of the members went to dance practice. He knew it'd probably put him behind, but they weren't set to perform for a good while, so he'll just catch up a different day. Plus, he knows Minho can handle them all just fine without him there.

The two of you are lounging on the couch, watching one of your favorite T.V shows, when Chan gets up to use the bathroom.

You hear the door close, and realize now's your chance. Your stomach's been growling for the past hour, but you didn't want to make Chan make you something.

However, you are done being the world's longest lounging couch potato, so you rise to your feet, grabbing your crutches from beside you, and make your way into the kitchen.

You know you don't have long before Chan finds you, so you ravage through the fridge quickly to try and find something to eat. You see your leftovers from the other night neatly packed away, so you grab those.

You carefully set your crutches down, leaning them on the counter next to you before hopping, leftovers in hand, to the microwave.

Unfortunately, the rug in front of the sink slips beneath you, and you fall onto the ground, your leftovers opening and spilling out onto you.

"Oh for fuck's sake," you sigh. Thankfully, you're not hurt, your butt just a little sore, but some of the sauce now decorates your cast.

You hear the door fling open from down the hall, and a frantic Chan bursts into the kitchen a mere second later. "What are you doing?" he's panicked as he rushes over to you, his arms looping under yours to pull you up.

"I was just going to heat these up because I was hungry, but then I slipped. I'm fine," you lightly push Chan away from you, knowing fully well that you can stand on your own.

He looks slightly taken back by your attitude, but nevertheless moves towards you again. He wraps his arms around you in an attempt to pick you up, no doubt to carry you back into your permanent spot on the living room couch, but you give him a firmer shove this time. "Did I hurt you?" he worries, his eyebrows scrunching.

"No, I just want to walk to the bathroom myself and get cleaned up," you explain, doing your best to keep your composure.

"I can help, let me grab you a wash rag for your cast," he bends down next to you, rummaging through the cupboard.

"Chan, please," you sigh. As much as you loved being babied at first, enough is enough. "I need some time by myself. I love you guys, but I'm not sure I've had a moment alone since the accident." Your arms are crossed as he stands, a pout forming on his face.

"But we just want to help you," he says, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

"And I thank you for all you guys have done the past month, but I really need to start doing things for myself again," you reach past him, grabbing your crutches and head down the hall to your bathroom. "Now to get this sauce off me," you mumble as you push the door open with the end of your crutch.

~ ~ ~

You're laying on your bed later in the day, knee propped up on a plump pillow to help alleviate some of the pain from your aching leg, when you hear a knock on door.

You tell them to come in, and the door opens to reveal Chan. "Hi," he's timid as he walks in. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, a guilty look on his face.

"What's up?" you ask, sliding your bookmark into the crease of your novel.

"I wanted to apologize on behalf of all of us. We've been really clingy since the accident, and we didn't realize we were overstepping."

"Chan," you sigh, adjusting yourself to sit next to him. "Please don't beat yourself up about this. Honestly, I was just a little frustrated earlier and took it out on you. You guys have helped me more than you know these last few weeks. I really don't mind all the doting."

His eyes light up at that. "Really?" his voice is giddy, and you regret that you were the cause of his sadness before.

While the overprotectiveness really did get on your nerves a bit, if it brings them that much happiness to take care of you, you suppose you can get past your grumpiness and let them do it.

"Really."

"Guys, she changed her mind!" he yells, and not even a second later, your door swings open, seven smiling faces staring back at you.

They hurry into your room, clumsily fighting each other to sit on your bed. They're still cautious of your leg, but they all manage to fit, even if a little squished.

"Don't make me regret this," you joke, ruffling Seungmin's hair from where he's laid out on your lap.

"You know you love us," Chan comments, smirking at you.

"I certainly do."

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan #skz bangchan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #stray kids ninth member #skz ninth member

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chuluoyi · 4 months

Note

Hey you!! I am still a bit quite new to the jjk fandom and everything going around but i am reading tons of things and your page became my fave in like a blink of an eye, no joke!!! Like i swear everything you write with Gojo goes through my soul and beyond🔥💕 i was thinking if you would maybe sometime take on the idea of how would Gojo react if his wife/gf is pregnant and him the protective dude he is, looses his shit when she gets hurt (either random or an a mission)?and taking care of her after.

Also i hope you are well and send you all the hugs and love i can give from where I am💜💜💜

࿐ ࿔ before the dawn

tw: pregnancy, mentions of blood, satosugu angst, hurt/comfort. goes through your soul and beyond? omg that’s the highest praise🤧 oh and hurt/comfort is actually my roman empire! to fit in love entries, i have to put it in the jjk0 timeline... and also sending love for you too nonnie!! this is so sweet aww thank you🫶🏻✨

a part of gojo's love entries

“…geto suguru is going to unleash curses in tokyo and kyoto.”

you stood still, suddenly feeling like your world had crashed. you blinked at what ichiji had just said after stuttering many times. “huh? geto… suguru?”

you just had your prenatal checkup with shoko, and you had suspected something serious had been going on by the grim way she looked and how she tried to evade your questions. satoru too had been kind of busy these past few days, and he was sorry to leave you more often because of “a business he had to take care of.”

so this was the business.

“how? why?” you asked ichiji with widened eyes, the horror dawning on you surely and fast. “how is he—doesn’t that mean… he’s— he’s going to be hunted down?”

that was a stupid question. suguru had been a criminal for ten years, of course they were going to catch him. it shouldn’t be new, you knew it. but this was an act of terrorism. this was the gravest and he could—suguru could…

three years of your and satoru’s youth flashed in your mind. the laughs. the memories. how? why must everything escalate this way?

“they’re g-going to… eliminate him.” ichiji looked down with regret, swallowing hard as he told you this. “gojo-san… he’s going to participate in the battle too.”

hearing that, suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. another reality crashed: satoru could end up murdering his best friend.

almost immediately, your womb clenched and throbbed with such intensity that your breath hitched, and you lurched forward, gripping onto ichiji’s arm tightly—

“ahh!” a scream tore its way out of your throat as you crumbled to the ground. the vice-like gripping pressure that assailed you sent waves of pain coursing through your belly and there was something wet and scarlet trickling down your legs.

blood. you wheezed, whimpered and your voice came out in panicked gasps. “b-baby… my baby—!”

“i will get you to ieiri-san!” ichiji immediately carried you back to shoko’s infirmary, trying not to turn into a blubbering mess. your anguished cries resonated through the quiet hall as you held onto your spasming abdomen, and ichiji could only pray with all his heart that you would be okay… or else gojo would definitely have his head.

he was informed through a phone call, that you passed out due to shock.

satoru felt his ears ring. everything blanked out afterwards. you were bleeding. you and your baby were bleeding. you weren’t supposed to and he wasn’t even there.

you were already so far along in your pregnancy and there was only a little over two months left before your due date. despite the impulse to scream at ichiji for subjecting you to such shocking news, he realized it would be futile, because in the end, you deserved to know.

he dashed towards the infirmary, the bandages on his eyes unraveling to reveal the bright glint of his six eyes as he met shoko’s stern gaze.

“where is she?” his voice came out ragged, almost in a growl, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

his remaining friend solemnly guided him towards your room and he wasted no time to rush inside, heart in his throat to make sure that no harm had come to either you or his baby.

“...satoru?” you were sitting on the bed, still pale, the swell of your belly was prominent even under the blankets. he looked at you with a mix of fright and concern and pulled you into his arms, breathing in your scent.

“you alright?” he inquired, voice softened exponentially as he pressed kisses on your head. “does it still hurt anywhere?”

“no, shoko has—”

“your belly no longer hurts? baby okay?” his palm brushed against your abdomen, lips tugged into a very concerned frown, and when the baby kicked him was when satoru could finally heave a sigh of relief.

“you scared me so much,” he whispered into your ear in a rasp and a sigh, before squeezing his eyes shut and reveling in your familiar warmth. one of his hands rested on where your baby was, to feel his twists and turns inside you, while the other continued to hold you in his embrace.

“satoru…” you mumbled, leaning against his sturdy chest and sensing the rapid beats of his heart. you felt exhausted and guilty for having mortified him, but you must clarify one thing. “they said… geto will curse everyone… is that true?”

his heart sank at your innocent question. “for now… can we just stay like this? i will answer you later, but for now…”

and you indulged him. over the years, you learned that satoru needed assurance in physical form more than you did. your heart fluttered as he patted your back and rubbed your belly many times, his worry crystal clear.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here… and i’m sorry that i tried to hide it from you,” he began. “in my defense, i don’t want you to put you through more stress. you have our baby to worry about already.”

as he explained things to you afterwards—about how your once kind, respected senior was now radically persistent in his pursuit of eradicating non-sorcerers and targeted yuta, your eyes watered with tears once again.

“can you stop him?” your lower lip trembled, beginnings of sobs welling up within you. “satoru… he’s… was—your best friend…”

geto suguru was an undeniable part of your vibrant youth. a part of you never got over how he decided to abandon everything during your last year of high school.

and you knew that your husband too must feel the same, with how crestfallen he looked now. it was the greatest betrayal for him to see the only person who understood him branched away to the worst path possible.

“shh... sweets, look,” satoru made you face him, the blue of his eyes darkening as he joined both of your hands together in his, dropping down on one knee before you. “for now, please— please, just focus on yourself. i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“but—”

“i won’t be able to forgive myself if you or our baby are not the slightest bit fine.”

you went silent at that. gojo satoru never showed his weakness to anyone, and with you, rarely. yet, in this moment, he appeared vulnerable, confessing that losing the only thing that kept him sane—this little family you made—would be unbearable.

“i’m fine, i promise,” you reassured, pulling your hand away before wrapping your arms around his neck, seeking his comfort and letting your tears to finally fall freely. “i’m sorry for earlier…”

“don’t. i should’ve told you sooner, that way you wouldn’t bleed,” satoru firmly rebuked in a grave tone, his voice tinged with self-deprecation as he hugged you again in return, stroking your hair. “did it hurt much? you must’ve been so terrified…”

“i was spooked, but we’re fine…”

“i’m going to take leave for the next few days, yeah? we’re going to be together. i can't—in this state of mind—leave you alone.”

the thought of potentially losing your baby filled him with terror. everything else be damned—including suguru’s atrocities, he had to take care of you first.

because you were the one who stood by his side when his world was at its darkest—you had came to him with the light of the dawn. he was forever grateful to you for becoming the apple of his eye, mending his broken heart, and ultimately becoming his everything.

he wouldn't let anything happen to you. that was his vow to himself. and he was a man of his word.

. . .

it didn't occur to you until much, much later, after all was said and done—after you were notified of suguru's death on december 24, that his mind had been set since then, because satoru had never promised you that he would be able to stop him.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

Note

Hey! So I had this Hurt comfort fic idea with Charles where she is engaged to him. Have you seen the video about the crowd in Montreal surrounding him? So something like them arriving and he's signing and clicking pics through the crowd holding her hand and the crowd and paps goes a bit haywire and she is separated and then visibly very hurt and injured because of that. And Charles is angry and protective, with the "Idc about myself but if anyone touches/hurts you I lose it" or something similar. Add drama and spice as you feel

Thank you Babe ❤️

A Step Too Far || CL16

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut WC: 1.9k

Charles could remember the first time he met your father. Obviously it wasn’t the first first time but it was the first time as your boyfriend, and that made it more important than any of the times they met in the paddock. Toto had gripped his hand tightly as they shook, pulling the younger driver closer to whisper in his ear.

“That’s my daughter, Charles, you put her above all else. It’s my job to protect her, and I’m trusting you here.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll keep her safe.”

“What did he say?” you asked as you left for your date.

“Nothing, ma chérie,” Charles assured you with a smile and a kiss to your cheek.

For three years he had kept that secret promise religiously, even as his popularity grew beyond his wildest expectations. He couldn’t walk down the street without being recognised, crowds gathering and people asking for photos or signatures. It wasn’t exactly new for you having grown up the way you did, but Charles’ fans were far more excitable and passionate than the ones who met your father.

Monza 2023

Everywhere you looked it was a sea of red supporters, the tifosi out in force to celebrate the third and fourth places Ferrari had taken in the race. You could see the equal parts of pride and disappointment on Charles’ face as he watched Carlos take the third step on the podium.

After heading back to his driver room, he collapsed into a chair with a groan and hung his head in his hands. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, wrinkling your nose at the sweat that dampened his dark hair. “That was a hell of a fight, baby.”

His grunt told you he thought otherwise but he placed his hand over yours and gave it a soft squeeze. “I almost had it, amour.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck until his shoulders bunched up and he wriggled with a laugh at his ticklish spot.

“Okay, okay, no more moping,” he said as he stood up and turned to face you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You held up your hand that had a sparkly new ring resting upon it. “Or I wouldn’t have said yes.”

“I’m very glad you did.” He smiled as he took your hand and kissed the engagement ring. “I need to shower. There’s room for one more…”

Charles kept you tucked close to his side as he made his way through the lines of fans to where his car was pulling up. You were running late once again, after being distracted while you were meant to be getting dressed to go out for dinner. He left your side for only a moment to open your door but that moment was all it took as the metal barriers separating the crowd came crashing down and they surged forward.

The sight and the sound gave you a fright and you stepped back instinctively. “Charles!” He turned at your panicked tone and watched with horror as your heeled foot missed the curb, twisting painfully as you fell. For a second he lost sight of you in the sea of red and he was spurred into action.

“Back up! Get out of my way!” he shouted to the crowd as he pushed his way to you. Rage filled him as he found you crumpled beside his car, arms wrapped protectively around your head while the bodies finally started to give you room. Tears blurred your vision as pain radiated from your ankle and suddenly you were weightless as a familiar pair of arms picked you up. “Amour, are you hurt?”

You could hardly hear him as the crowd demanded his attention, screaming as they waved hats and posters in his direction. The look he sent them should have been warning enough but they were too high on his presence to notice.

“Amour?”

“My ankle,” you admitted with a wince as it was jostled.

He released a torrent of expletives under his breath as he carried you to the driver’s seat and climbed in with you on his lap, your legs hanging over onto the passenger seat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologised as he kissed your temple and pulled out of the hotel.

“It’s not your fault, Charles, I should have been paying more attention.”

“You got hurt because of me, that’s the only reason they were there. Shit.” His eyes darted to the centre screen as it announced an incoming call from Toto and he hit the accept button on the steering wheel.

“You haven’t lost your watch again, have you?” Toto greeted, his voice thick with amusement.

“We are almost there,” he replied as he turned onto the street where the restaurant reservation was booked. “We just ran into some trouble with some fans.”

The silence was deafening until it was broken by the scratch of a chair being pushed back on a wooden floor followed by the click of your father’s footsteps. “Trouble?”

You watched the door to the restaurant open and your father ignored the concierge as he stepped to the curb Charles was pulling up to. “This should be fun.” Charles grimaced at your words and ended the call as Toto tucked his phone away and opened the passenger door.

Toto stared at the empty seat before dragging his eyes across the space to find you on your fiancé’s lap. “Hi papa.”

“Don’t hi me,” he tutted as he walked around and moved the valet along with a wave of his hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you assured him as you accepted his hand out of the sports car. “You two are as dramatic as each other.”

The flare of pain was sudden and impossible to hide when your shoe touched the pavement, the joint weakly giving underneath you. If not for Charles behind you it would have been much worse but he took your weight and kept you upright.

“What the fuck have you done to my daughter, Leclerc?” You found yourself in a tug of war, but you were the rope. Your father tried to pull you out of his arms but your yelp of pain froze the very air. He relinquished his fight and raised his hands before pointing a damning finger at Charles. “Hospital, now.”

“But I’m hungry,” you whined as he instantly moved to follow the order, stepping back towards the Ferrari. “Can’t we go after dinner, please?”

You turned your pleading eyes to your father and watched his resolve weaken.

“No,” Charles interrupted before Toto could agree and you turned to him with a look of betrayal. “Don’t look at me like that, amour. I can’t bear to see you in pain, especially when it’s my fault.”

“At least you take ownership,” Toto muttered. “Susie and I will bring you dinner. Go.”

There was no room to argue, not that Charles would. He respected your father too much for that.

“You need to make a statement,” Toto said tiredly as he sat in the hospital chair opposite Charles. You were on the bed separating them, enjoying the lack of pain while the drugs did their job and waiting for the moonboot to be fitted. “Something like this cannot be allowed to happen again.”

“He didn’t exactly give them permission, papa.”

Charles cut you a look out the corner of his eye before nodding to Toto. “I’ll make sure of it, sir. It might be time to hire some security.”

Your father barely hid his scoff as he muttered, “Better late than never.” Toto sat up straighter and rubbed his tired eyes. “These are things you will need to think about even more in the future, especially when you have children of your own - you’ll realise you can’t wait until something bad happens before making changes. You need to start thinking about the future now, son.”

Charles’ stare turned out the window as he took the advice seriously. You could see the contemplation set in hard lines across his face. The look turned sad when the nurse arrived with the moonboot you would need to wear for at least two weeks and he started to withdraw into himself as he pulled his phone out. Only a few moments later you saw your phone light up with a notification that he had posted to his Instagram.

“Good man,” Toto said as he read the statement that in no uncertain terms warned his fans there would be consequences if they couldn’t respect the boundaries set.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” they both answered adamantly.

“You are all set to go, darling,” the nurse said with a soft smile. “Rest up, and if there are any concerns just come right back.”

After thanking her you hobbled along, sandwiched between your father and fiancé, to the underground car park where the car was waiting.

“I’ll come back to your hotel, make sure you get inside safely,” your father said as he opened your door and kissed your cheek.

“His fans have probably all run away by now.”

“I think you’re underestimating the tifosi. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Toto was right, because if anything there were even more fans lining the entrance to the hotel than before. Only this time there was also more security.

You were quickly ushered through to the quieter reception area where Toto shared a look that said ‘I told you so’ before bidding a goodnight and heading his own way back. The elevator ride to the penthouse suite was silent and it wasn’t the comfortable silence you were used to. It grew heavier with each level and you were itching to get out of the confined space by the time the doors opened.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered as Charles pulled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I broke my promise,” he said as his shoulders sagged further, like he was moments from imploding on himself. “I swore to your father I would protect you.”

“Charles, I love you, but you can’t protect me from the world - no matter what my father thinks.” You crawled over the duvet and onto his lap so you could cup his face. “I don’t blame you and it is me who is going to be marrying you, not him.”

His brows pinched together. “I hadn’t even thought about children.”

“What?”

“After the wedding, having children - what that would be like in this environment. I hadn’t thought about it. I obviously knew it’s what I wanted for us down the line but now…it’s a little scary to think what might happen to them.”

“Char, there’s no rush. We don’t know what our future will look like in five years, or ten.” You stroked his cheeks and dipped your head forward to kiss his pouting lips. “Just focus on the here and now, baby. Forget what happened out there. In here, it’s just you and me, and a king sized bed that’s far too neatly made.”

“It is pretty neat.”

“So why don’t we mess it up?”

His eyes flicked to your legs draped over his, lingering on the bulky boot. “Amour?”

Your fingers were already running down his chest, reaching for the waistband of his trousers he had worn to dinner. “You won’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

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bartxnhood · 2 years

Text

right here | r.k

gif not mine

| robby keene × reader

summary: after a night of celebration and a run in with the cobras, you were left frightened. you count on robby for help.

warnings: blood, swearing, broken bones, poorly written fight scenes.

a/n happy s5 of cobra kai !! loving robbys character this season. this will have spoilers so please read with caution !! also, you'd think that taking karate lessons years ago would help me when i write fighting scenes but it doesn't. so please don't judge me:(

spoilers below cut.

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the party had finally ended, hours of celebrating your victory of getting into the world's biggest karate tournament. you barely had any drinks, not one to participate in underage drinking. not really up your alley. plus, with the recent events of the rivalry, a small fight broken out.

robby had offered to take you home but you had got a text from a friend saying they wanted to hang out after the party. “are you sure? i really don’t care to take you home” he assured. you smiled, “i appreciate the offer but hannah texted, she wants to meet up” he raised his eyebrows but nodded, “alright, i’ll see you tomorrow. and text me when you get home” you laughed, giving him a quick kiss. “you got it”.

the location where your friend wanted to meet wasn’t far, so you decided to walk it. only to realize it was a complete setup.

“well, if it isn’t robby’s little pet, all alone, walking home?” you looked up from your phone, seeing them trickle in front of them and you looked over your shoulder, seeing more emerge from the darkness. slowly, you shoved your phone into your bag. “listen, i’d really like to go home. it’s late” your voice was soft, trying to be civil. it was close to midnight, you were tired and you promised robby you wouldn’t mess with them if he wasn’t there.

devon laughed, “after what you guys pulled today? no. you’ll pay for this, little miss” two pairs of arms grabbed yours, pinning you in place. “no, please!” you begged, then felt a kick to your gut.

each punch and kick after that only riled you up. finally using your strength and getting out of the hold, putting the two other cobras on the floor.

your instincts were haywire. you managed to block almost every kick and punch from devon and another from someone on your left. leaving your right side open for an attack.

instantly you felt the worst pain coming from your leg, one cobra twisted your ankle causing your leg to give out. at this point you already had a bloody nose, eyes watering and it was getting harder to focus.

you knew you were a good fighter, but against this many people? you were well aware you’d be defeated. with one last blow to your diaphragm, you were knocked back on the concrete gasping for air.

your arm reached out, trying to grab your phone. still attempting to catch your breath. in a split second, an unbearable weight came crashing on your hand, and a scream escaped your lungs. “i don’t think so, doll” tears began to fall as you shut your eyes. “next time your little group pulls something like this, you won’t leave so easily.” kennys foot was now against your throat, choking you. finally, the pressure was lifted and you coughed for air.

you didn’t stay down for long, quickly grabbing your phone and calling the one person who knew would help you.

you sat at the curb, holding your wrist staring at the deep blues and black forming on your hand. you knew it was broken, you couldn’t move it. tears fell down your nose and onto your shirt.

“y/n?!” you heard a panicked robby. looking up his eyes met with yours. his expression fell, and quickly rant by your side. “what the fuck happened?!” he examined your hand and then your face, his hands delicately held your chin. “the..cobras” you croaked. throat sore from being choked.

your eyes were red and puffy from the constant crying of feeling so scared and being in so much pain. he was gentle, taking you into his embrace. “i tried. i was so scared” you cried into his chest. “shh” he kissed the top of your head. “it’s okay, you’ll be alright. no one can hurt you now”

“can you walk?” you shook your head, using your non-injured hand to wipe your tears. “they got me pretty good.” he nodded. ever so gently he took your body into his arms, carrying you bridal style, back to sams car.

robby decided to let you stay at his place, well actually johnnys but he knew his dad wouldn’t say anything. especially now that he’s turning over a new leaf. “thank you sam” he hummed, keeping an eye on you. the bruises and welts were forming pretty fast, which only fueled his anger. “they’re not going to get away with this.” he started, “so help me if i see them-“

“robby” you cut him off, pleading eyes. he got the memo. “sorry” he cleared his throat. but it didn’t help the anger he felt inside, his chest was burning and his hands still balled in a fist.

soon enough the three of you pulled up to the apartment complex, robby carried you and sam helped with the doors. he carefully made his way through the hallway and into his room, gently placing you on the mattress. “can you get some ice? there’s some pack in the freezer” sam nodded and left the room.

“robby, i’m sorry, i didn’t know who else to call” you rested your head against the wall. he fell by your side, shaking his head.

“don’t you dare apologize for something you didn’t do. i’m your boyfriend, y/n. it’s my job to be here for you” he tried to smile, but the aight of seeing you so beat up killed him. he should’ve been there with you and known it was a setup. “i’m gonna get you some pain killers, yeah?” you nodded, letting him leave.

sam quickly came back in, a few ice packs in hand. “here” she hummed, you smiled and took the contents from her. hovering over your knuckles then slowly laying the ice down, you chewed on your bottom lip trying not to cry despite how badly it hurt. “thank you” you murmured.

“and thank you for picking me up. i know it’s late” she smiled, shaking her head.

“you know i’d do anything for you.” she looked down at her watch, “i’ve gotta head home now. but message me so i know you’re okay?” you nodded, she waved and saw herself out.

robby came back with a pill bottle, glass of water, and a wet wash rag. “this should help with the pain.” he handed you the cup and then opened the bottle and gave you some advil. you took the pills and a quick swig of water. “thank you, robby” you smiled tiredly.

he nodded, “it’s no problem. do you mind if i clean your leg?” he motioned down to your knee which has dried blood and small pieces of debris in the wound.“yeah..go ahead”.

to be honest, you were still in shock from what happened. you were thankful enough that robby is letting you stay, knowing your parents wouldn’t care if you came home or not.

robby tried his best being gentle, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. the girl he had loved the most in all his years, the one who was in his corner throughout everything. telling people he hadn’t changed or he’d come back around. you always supported him. even if it meant you got hurt as well.

it hurt, but your hand hurt worse. you could take robby to clean your knee.

“you should change” robbed said, wiping the blood on your scraped knee. “your clothes are all dirty and bloody” you were pulled from your fogged mind. “what..?” you looked at him. “you need to change. i’ll give you a pair of my shorts and shirt.” you shook your head, “robby it’s okay, really” he was quick to cut you off. “it wasn’t a request, but a demand.” you stared at him. “fine.” you shrugged, and proceeded to sit up, fighting off the pain your body felt.

“whoa, whoa. careful” he quickly put his hand on the small of your back. “i’ll grab you some clothes” he hurried over to his drawers, picking out a black shirt and shorts. “i can step out if you want me to” you nodded, “thanks” he smiled, “i’ll be right outside the door”

you managed to get the jean shorts off with your good hand and slipped the basketball shorts on. now the tricky part was getting your shirt off. wasn’t necessarily easy with a broken hand. you sighed, feeling frustrated. you called out, “robby?”

the door opened, confused as to why you were still in hood top. “everything okay?” you shook your head, “can you help me with my shirt?” he nodded, “sure”

he carefully helped you get your shirt off that had plenty of minor cuts in the fabric. this was the first time you had been this vulnerable around him. also being the first time he had seen you almost

robby pressed light kisses on your shoulder,” i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.” his eyes roamed your back and your rib cage, seeing the bruises now forming. it pained him that this happened, and he knew that the next time he saw anyone from cobra kai, they’d pay for it. no one touches you.

you wanted to cry, but you tried your best to hold it together while slipping the black t-shirt over your head. “i should’ve stayed back. this wouldn’t have happened if i was just being cautious.” he helped you bag down on the bed. “it isn’t your fault, remember that. i promise no one will ever touch you again. okay?”

“i love you robby.” you sighed, and a smile formed on his face. “i love you too. i’ll give you some space, i’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. and i’ll wrap your hand in the morning, is that okay?”

you nodded, but suddenly the thought of being alone terrified you.

“robby?”

“hm?”

“please stay.”

he stopped in the doorway, eventually coming back and closing the door behind him. “okay” he hummed and crawled into the bed next to you. “i really don’t want to be alone.” you moved closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

“you’ll never be alone again. i’ll always be here.”

#robby keene x y/n #robby keene cobra kai #robby keene x reader #robby keene imagine #robby keene blurb #robby cobra kai #cobra kai blurb #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai imagine #robby keene

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megalony · 6 months

Text

Don't Leave Me

As promised, here is a new Jonah Hauer-King imagine for all you lovelies, I hope you like it. Any feedback or requests are always amazing, enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae @notagreekgal28 @ellietalenfwlers

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is on his way home when a car accident delays him a while. And he finds himself desperate to help the girl in the accident and make sure she's alright.

Enjoy.

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A steady beat drummed out against the steering wheel, matching in time with the tune playing quietly from the radio. As the daylight started to fade and the darkness drew in, he turned down the radio every so often until the tunes were soft and quiet in the background since his mind was so easily distracted.

He didn't always find driving calming and easy and distractions tended to make it worse.

The moon was a dusty, pale yellow with an outer white glow that looked very luminescent and eye-catching. There were a few stars poking through the layer of mist and the sky was a pale navy blue with streaks of purple and tints of red. Jonah loved looking at the evening sky because it looked so capturing and interesting.

He used to hate driving on the motorway, it always panicked him because everyone was driving so fast but now it felt normal. It didn’t feel like he was getting whiplash when he increased speed, it felt rather slow now that he had gotten used to it.

Drifting his eyes around the road, Jonah rubbed at his temple as he noticed his sliproad was coming up to get him back on the normal roads and not on the motorway anymore. He wasn’t too far from home now which was a relief because he couldn’t wait to put his feet up and just have a drink.

He was ready to go home.

His fingers hovered over the indicator at the side of the steering wheel but he didn't get chance to flick it on.

One fleeting, chancing look in his rear-view mirror drew his attention to a car that was flying up behind him, swerving between two lanes. The car was out of control. The driver wasn't breaking. He was going to slam into the back of Jonah's car. They were going to crash.

Jonah did the only thing he could think of. Without looking in his side mirrors or really thinking it through at all, he slammed his brakes on and swerved into the hard shoulder to his left. It was a small, grit covered lane for emergencies and this was definitely an emergency. Jonah would be crushed or run off the road if he didn't swerve into the safe lane on his left and it was all he could do. The front of his car spun towards the left, bumping into the barrier as he came to a sudden, jerking stop.

Every muscle in his body tensed, curse words flew past his lips and everything started to shake as ragged breaths passed his lips.

"No-"

Jonah jumped back in his seat as he watched the car speed past him in the lane he was just in. His eyes widened in terror when he watched the out of control car slam into the car that had been in front of Jonah.

The cherry coloured car propelled forward a few feet before swerving and spinning into the hard shoulder lane. The back end of the cheery car hit the metal barrier so harsh and fast that it smashed through and slanted the car part-way down the hill. It was by sheer luck that the car didn't roll off the hard shoulder and go down the ditch. It was wedged between the metal that was saving that poor driver from going into the water at the bottom of the ditch.

Was that Jonah's fault?

Would he of had time to flash his hazard lights to let that car in front know something was wrong? Should he have tried to warn them somehow? Shouldn't that of been Jonah who was almost falling down into the ditch?

He couldn't see where the out of control car had ended up. It seemed to be a mile ahead on the motorway but Jonah could see half the people were stopping and others were hurriedly shooting up the exit Jonah should have been on by now.

He didn’t know if someone had called the police or an ambulance or if the drivers needed any help. He guessed the people in the cherry car needed help, no one had made a move to get out yet and they needed to move. If the car jolted an inch, it would be in the ditch.

There was no way Jonah could try and drive home now. He had seen the accident. He would need to give a statement to the police, if he drove off now it would make him a bad person, just as bad as the people who weren't stopping to help.

When Jonah unsteadily climbed out of the car, his legs had gone to jelly and he had to lean heavily on the door and take a few seconds to catch his breath and calm down. He had never been in a car accident before. He was a good driver- not that he had done anything wrong tonight that had caused this crash, not really. He had never witnessed a crash like this before. What could he do to help?

He locked the car, stuffed the keys into his pocket along with his phone and jogged on numb legs down towards the cherry coloured Fiesta.

People further ahead on the road were starting to stop and check on the driver who had caused this mess but no one was coming Jonah's way.

Jonah rounded to the driver’s side. It took him a few moments to jiggle the door handle so the door finally opened, almost swinging off the hinges when it swung open with a creak that made him shiver. He bent the door as far open as it would manage and weaved behind it so he could lean over and see if the person needed any assistance.

Whoever was in here, Jonah wanted to tell them to get out. He didn't like how close the car was to the edge of the ditch. One wrong move and the car would be gone.

Turning her head slowly to the right, (Y/n) let out a shuddering breath at the stranger who managed to open the door. Her mind was coming back under her control now. As soon as something hit her car and it started to swerve, her mind blacked out and she couldn't see a thing. A sob burned against the back of her throat that felt like sandpaper and pain bolted through almost every nerve in her body.

Her eyes tried to focus on the mop of raven black curls that swished in front of her eyes as the stranger who had seemingly come to her rescue bent down on his knees. He had one hand holding onto her car door and the other was clamped around the roof of the car like he was trying to hold himself up.

He had a calming, somewhat sugary sweet smile and for a second or two, it distracted (Y/n) from why she was panicking.

"Hi there, love. I’m Jonah, can you tell me your name?" Jonah paced his words to let (Y/n) have a moment to process them and hear how calm and collected he was trying to be.

"(Y/n)… out, p-please get me out!" Her throat burned, her words came out croaked and weak but with an air of urgency that stunned Jonah.

(Y/n) didn’t know which area of pain to focus on or where exactly the pain was coming from because it was circulating everywhere. But she knew that she didn’t want to be in the car anymore. She could feel the smoke drifting around the car, seeping into her lungs and making it harder to breathe. She could feel that the right side of the car next to her legs was dented and the bonnet had been crushed and the metal was pushing towards her. She felt like she was becoming boxed into her car and she wanted out.

The seatbelt was cutting rather harshly into her exposed neck and chest near her collar bone and it was grating like a sharp knife slowly tearing through her skin. She wanted to be out of the car to feel a bit more at ease and safer. Sitting in a car wasn’t the best if it was stationary and still on the motorway which was dangerous as it was without her being in a car which was now a hazard.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. I don’t know what injuries you have, it’s best to wait for the paramedics, I think I saw someone calling them up ahead."

Jonah could see she was obviously distressed and didn’t want to stay where she was but now he had glanced at her injuries, all thoughts of telling her to get out vanished from his mind. He didn't want to be the one to move her. She could have damaged her spine or her neck or even her head and skull, moving her could disrupt any injuries and cause permanent damage. He didn't want to be the cause of any paralysis and he wasn't trained to get her out of a car with those sorts of injuries.

Basic medical first aid was the only thing Jonah could offer, along with a calming presence and a promise he wouldn't leave her in here alone until proper help arrived.

"Please,"

Her sob burned into Jonah's ears and he cringed, rolling his lips together at how desperate she sounded. He couldn't risk hurting her or making her injuries worse unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Not yet, let's wait for an ambulance to get you out safely, hm? But I won't leave you here alone, that's a promise."

"Okay," If he wasn't going to get her out, him staying beside her was at least a relief and his smile was as calming as it was charming.

"Let’s get that belt off you." Pushing himself up so he was leaning over her instead of on his knees at her side, Jonah tried his best not to touch her in case he hurt her. He didn't know if she had any internal injuries. All he could see were the external ones such as the cuts to her face from the inside of the windscreen shattering.

He rolled his lips into a thin smile and reached over (Y/n), trying to hold up his own weight. The belt came undone surprisingly easy and Jonah carefully pulled it back but it made him queasy to see the belt peel off her skin like a layer of skin ripping away. It revealed a slanted cut along her collar bone like it had burned into her skin, but thankfully it didn't look too deep.

Pulling back a little, Jonah started looking over (Y/n) to see what other injuries she had and how bad they were. He saw small cuts on her cheeks, one on her neck, her hands looked a bit scraped but when he looked closer he saw her right wrist looked damaged.

"I think you’ve broken your wrist, try not to move it for me." The complicated joint seemed to jut out on the left and it was beginning to swell too.

Pushing the almost deflated airbag out of the way, Jonah looked over (Y/n)’s other arm which seemed to have no damage. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment and he smiled to show her she was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t see any blood on her shirt which was a good sign but with the airbag now moved out of the way, he noticed a new problem.

There was a thin chunk of metal puncturing into her thigh, causing blood to pool around her navy blue leggings.

"Can I?" He questioned, referring to her leg. He didn’t really want to leave her bleeding out when he didn’t know how long the paramedics were going to take to arrive and the least he could do was take a look and see if he could help in any way.

"Hm,"

There was a tear in the material so Jonah slowly pulled at the thin cotton and ripped it further so he could see the damage. He held his breath in his lungs to calm himself down; the metal looked like it was rather deep into her leg and Jonah knew better than to even attempt to pull it out. If he moved the metal an inch he could worsen the bleeding or rip a muscle and if he took it out all the way, the blood flow would be a lot worse. The blood was seeping from the deep cut like a tap that was continuously spluttering the liquid everywhere. It was soaking into her leggings and creating a mass dampness around the wounded area.

"Okay… sweetheart, I need to stop the bleeding. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you were up to today or something about you while I fix this."

Jonah needed to stop the bleeding and the best way he could think to do that was to remove his belt and tie it around her leg above the wound. That way the blood would be restricted to her leg because even though the metal was stopping the blood loss from becoming worse it was still pouring out. He knew (Y/n) might become lightheaded and it would hurt so he thought talking might distract her and it would show him she wasn’t suddenly going to faint or fall unconscious.

"What's wrong with my-" (Y/n) cut herself off with a choked moan mixed with a cry when she saw the metal poking out of her thigh a little higher up from her knee. She pressed her head back into the headrest, feeling the urge to scream or try and move because she didn’t even realise that had happened. She didn’t feel the metal puncture through her leg, she simply thought it had gotten bashed and bruised like everywhere else on her body.

"Ssh, hey it’s alright. I’m gonna stop the bleeding and then the paramedics will sort this out for you, don’t worry. Come on, tell me about yourself or your day." Jonah’s voice was oddly soothing to (Y/n), he had one of those deep yet rhythmic voices that you could listen to about anything. It was a voice that you would constantly listen to without registering what was being said.

"I don't, um… I like t-to sing." (Y/n) licked her dry lips, trying to speak clearly though her throat and lips were both dry and felt tight.

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Something soft flooded Jonah's eyes while he stood up and snapped his belt free from the loops of his jeans. He prayed his jeans would stay where they were and wouldn't fall down now they were a bit loose on him without the belt.

He crouched back down beside (Y/n) whilst hoping some form of help would arrive soon to help them.

"I bet you have a beautiful voice. I quite like to sing too," Jonah pushed his knees into the bottom of the car while he carefully lifted up (Y/n)'s thigh, just an inch, so he could thread the end of his belt under her leg. He did his best not to disturb the metal. He made sure the belt was close to the wound but not touching it in any way.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she looked down to see what Jonah was doing. It took her mind a few seconds longer than usual to process what he was doing and understand he was going to cut off her circulation to her leg.

When Jonah lifted his head to look at her, he winked in a way that sent (Y/n)'s stomach flooding with butterflies and his smile made her want to squirm and blush. She noticed his smile morph a little when he bit down on his lower lip and threaded the belt through the buckle. Then he yanked it as tight as he could manage. When the belt indented down into (Y/n)'s skin, he heard her ungodly scream as if the belt was around her chest, not her leg.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He hushed quietly. "It won’t hurt for long, sweetheart." Jonah pressed the pin into the belt to create a new pinhole to make sure the belt didn’t loosen any more than that before he let go. Her leg would turn numb soon enough and it would stop both the pain from the tightness and the pain from the wound.

Jonah ran his fingertips over (Y/n)’s legs to make sure she had no other cuts or injuries, stopping when she choked on a cry as soon as his hands found her left ankle. He pulled up the end of her leggings and moved her sock out of the way before trying to be gentle when grazing his fingers over the swelling skin. Relief bolted through him when he saw that the bone wasn't poking out and it didn't exactly feel broken, it felt in tact. She might have just sprained it.

"It’s not broken, probably sprained… hey, you gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, open your eyes."

Reaching his hand up, Jonah gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to get her to talk to him when her eyes closed. He didn’t want her passing out on him in case it was a sign that she was still having bloodloss or that there was something else wrong.

She managed to open her eyes and move her left hand, barely remembering that Jonah said not to move her right wrist which was broken.

"It hurts." (Y/n) didn’t exactly know what she was referring to, whether it was her broken wrist, her bleeding leg, her damaged ankle or her head that was pounding, but she felt the need to express how everything hurt. Jonah didn’t seem to care what she was referring to, he understood what she was going through. He moved his right hand and gently took her left hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

"I know it does, but it won’t be for long. Squeeze my hand, help will be here soon."

Jonah couldn’t give her anything for the pain and he couldn’t take it away, all he could do was be moral support and to try and help her in any way that he could. He darted his eyes down to her leg which was fading in colour meaning that the blood wasn't getting past the belt so that was a good thing at least.

He felt slight relief when (Y/n) held his hand tightly to show she wasn’t asleep just yet. She didn’t know what she would have done if Jonah hadn’t turned up, she wouldn’t have known her leg was bleeding or how to stop it, she would have tried to get herself out if she had the energy. Her panic died down immensely when he turned up because he seemed to know what he was doing. It wasn’t as scary with someone else here with her.

"P-please don’t leave me."

"Now why would I leave you?" Jonah could hear the worry in her voice as if she thought he was just going to vanish and head home. He wouldn't do that even if he wanted to because it wasn’t fair. He had come over to help and he wasn’t finished helping yet because he couldn’t leave her alone and afraid.

Jonah rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as (Y/n) continued to squeeze his hand every now and then to show she was still awake. She pushed her chest out to let her spine click into place before settling back against the seat that felt incredibly uncomfy right now.

Something akin to fondness bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and pooled in her eyes when she looked over at Jonah. He wasn't looking at her but he was squeezing her hand incredibly tight. He was swaying on his heels, shifting his weight back and forth and his left hand had moved to rub his chin and brush across his lips while he watched for any signs of an ambulance or even the police.

She could see how focused he was on watching for help and how intent he was on staying right by her side. It felt like they had known each other for years, not minutes and his presence was calming and soothing.

The car moved.

A burning scream left (Y/n)'s lips and her body tensed up and pushed back into the seat when she felt the car jolt backwards. The horrid sound of metal scraping on metal sent her body shivering and burned her ears.

She was going to fall. The car was going to do down the ditch and crash. She was going to die here.

Jonah's weight unbalanced and he fell backwards on his bum, one hand scraping against the gravel to steady himself while his other hand clenched as tight as possible around (Y/n)'s hand. As if he was Superman with the power to pull her back and stop the car from falling any further.

"No, no no!"

"Oh God!"

Jonah scrambled to get up and his free hand instinctively pressed out on the roof of the car until it stopped moving and once again got wedged between the broken metal barrier. As soon as it stopped, Jonah breathed shakily in relief and moved round again. He let go of the car, he didn't want to touch or lean on it in any way in case any little touch made it move more towards the ditch again.

He leaned his head down into the car and his hand let go of (Y/n)'s hand so his hands could hold her neck. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his thumbs brushed over her jaw and he tilted her head up so she was looking at him. He could see the panic in her watering eyes and hear it in each shuddering, shallow breath she took. Panicking wasn't going to do them any favours.

Reaching up, (Y/n) clamped down hands down around Jonah's wrists, even her broken wrist that was now pulsing and throbbing from the movement. She was shaking so badly she was causing Jonah's arms to tremble but neither of them cared.

"Jonah p-please get me out!" (Y/n)'s fingers dug bruisingly into his wrists but it was her eyes that made his stomach flip and sent his knees buckling.

"I could hurt you-"

"Please,"

His eyes slammed closed and his body jolted on the spot when (Y/n) slammed her foot down against the footwell as she let out a sharp cry. She wanted out, she wanted to feel and be safe on the roadside. She didn't want to be in a car that was about to be in the ditch.

She was moving all of her body except for the leg Jonah had tied his belt to, surely that had to mean she didn't have any nerve damage or paralysis? Wouldn't it be safer for him to get her out and move her now than to risk waiting for paramedics to do the exact same thing he could just do right now?

"Alright, alright sweetheart let's get you out of here."

Reaching down, Jonah let go of her neck and trailed his hands down to hold her arms and loop them around the back of his neck. He could see the metal that was punctured into her thigh wasn't still connected to the car so he could move her without ripping it from her skin.

He gently held her lower legs and turned them until her body was shifted so she was facing him and her legs were now hanging over the side of the seat out of the car.

Jonah bent his knees and circled his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to hold her firmly but also be gentle because he didn't want to cause her further pain. He could feel her nails scratching into his shoulders as he carefully started to lift her up from the car. When (Y/n) reached her hand out to hold the door so she could keep her weight on her good leg, Jonah grabbed her hand and looped her arm back around his neck instead.

"Don't lean on the car in case it moves. Lean on me, I've got you."

He could feel the car start to slide again the moment (Y/n)'s weight was lifted from the seat. Jonah moved as quick as he could without hurting her and shuffled backwards with (Y/n) in his arms until they were a safe distance from the car that was four feet away from going down the ditch.

"Are you okay?"

His nose brushed against her hair and her breath tickled his skin when she took rapid breaths but managed to nod against his neck.

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) was sure she heard him whisper 'You're alright' into her hair before he carefully turned to help her sit down. His hands moved under her arms and he lowered her down until she was sat on the gravel with her legs stretched out in front of her as straight as rulers.

Her head felt like it was about to explode and for a brief moment, everything started to spin and her mind went dizzy. She thought she was about to flop down against the floor until a strangely familiar pair of hands grabbed her upper arms. Jonah reeled her into his side and let her weight fall onto his chest as (Y/n) suddenly realised he had sat down on the ground next to her.

His hand rubbed up and down her arm and in her slightly delirious state, (Y/n) was sure he kissed the top of her head, although she couldn't be sure.

"Cavalry’s here, love." As soon as the words passed through his lips, (Y/n) could faintly hear the blaring sirens that sounded very distant but she didn’t know if they were actually far away or if it was her ears distorting the sounds around her.

Two ambulances and a road traffic car pulled up and Jonah suspected they were going to block off this whole side of the motorway for a few hours.

Two paramedics hurried over with a stretcher to where Jonah was sat down beside (Y/n). He could see she was close to falling asleep now but it was alright if she did because the paramedics were here, they would know what to do.

"Jonah…" (Y/n) managed to open her eyes but soon closed them when all she could see was a rotating picture that was blurring too much to make anything out. A flurry of panic bubbled up in her chest when she felt strange hands on her arms pulling her forward to try and check her over and her head shook when she felt her eyelid being held open and a light cross in front of her pupil.

She didn't want Jonah to leave, as selfish as that made her. She barely knew him but she wanted to keep holding his hand and lean on his shoulder and hear his melodic voice telling her she was going to be alright.

"Jonah-"

"I’m still here sweetheart." He responded, feeling his heart pang at how she was beginning to panic again.

He shook his head when one of the paramedics asked if he was injured and his arms folded over his chest as he bit his lip, watching them assess her and talk about the best way to move her. They couldn’t afford to move the metal in her leg but it was easier now she was out the car. They didn’t have to cut her free which was the most important thing.

Jonah felt all the sirens and car horns and voices drift away and blur into silence as he watched the paramedics very slowly ease (Y/n) onto the stretcher. Both making sure her right leg was moved as little as possible as they laid her down. All three of them winced when (Y/n) suddenly made a choking sound. Her chest moving like it was convulsing and she moved her left hand to press to her lower chest before blood started to coat her lips.

One of the medics moved the stretcher so (Y/n) was sitting up instead of lying down so she didn’t choke. Her eyes closed tight and her face contorted into a look of either pain or disgust, Jonah couldn't be sure, and she tossed her head forward to spit the blood from her lips.

"Can I go with her?"

Jonah didn’t even think before the words were rushed from his lips and he felt relieved when one of them nodded. He didn’t even know her and yet he found himself wondering what her fate would be. If she would need surgery and what for, if she would be okay, who needed to be contacted. If her parents needed to be told, if she even had parents or maybe siblings or even a partner he had to contact. All the questions he could possibly have about her and her life rushed through his head as he jogged to keep up with them.

He stopped for a second to tell an officer which car was his because he would undoubtedly get clamped or have a ticket for leaving his car there if he didn't tell someone first that he was involved in this mess. He was too shaken to drive and he needed to make sure (Y/n) would be okay.

When they were in the ambulance, one of the paramedics held a white plastic bowl in front of (Y/n) so she could cough up the blood which tainted the crystal white colour of the tub into a rather dark crimson. Jonah wasn’t very well advanced with medical knowledge but he guessed by the way she was spitting blood like she was throwing up that it was something to do with her stomach. She was breathing well so it wasn’t her lungs at least.

"I’m still here," He mumbled quietly as he reached to take her hand, watching how her features seemed to relax at his voice. Her hand pulled his closer to her chest as she continued to throw up the sticky substance coating her throat and lips.

Jonah brushed her slightly knotted hair behind her ear, keeping it from her face as he felt the ambulance begin to move.

"I won’t leave you."

#jonah hauer king imagine #jonah x reader #jonah imagine #jonah hauer king #imagine #the little mermaid

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alienguts · 3 months

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White Lies (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Y/N broke her arm fighting Deadites with Ash and they need to come up with a convincing excuse for the doctor.

Warnings: injuries, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of violence and gore

Request?: No, but I feel like it's been an eternity since I wrote an Ash fic

A/N: I'm still trying to find the time to work on an Ash smut fic, so here's something to hold over the thirteen of you who are here for Ash fics

“Have you come up with a story yet?” Ash whispered in Y/N’s ear as his eyes darted around the hospital waiting room.

“I’m just gonna tell them I tripped on a tree root, will you calm down?” she hissed, trying to keep as inconspicuous as she could with a broken arm and muddy clothes. And a boyfriend whose clothes were almost completely covered in blood.

“I am calm,” Ash said, clearly not calm at all. “You’re not calm enough.”

“Ash, my arm has snapped in half, it is taking so much for me to be calm right now because all I want to do is cry.”

Ash opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it back closed again.

He wasn’t always fond of Y/N joining him whenever he needed to get rid of some Deadites, but it was hard for him to say no when she was so insistent on helping him.

The creatures had been hot on their tails the entire night, relentlessly pursuing them through the woods. Ash had given Y/N the boomstick while he fended them off with the chainsaw, but she still needed some practise with it.

She’d managed to get several headshots in, showering the ground with blood and guts as each monster went down in a gory explosion. Ash’s clothes hadn’t fared much better considering he was face to face with the monsters, leading to him being covered head to toe in blood. His shirt had changed from blue to red and muddy brown and clung to his skin as he kicked at the creatures and slashed them in half with the chainsaw.

Things were going well until they ventured into a part of the woods where the undergrowth was thicker, hiding the tree roots. Y/N kept moving backwards as carefully as she could, taking shots whenever she could and trying to keep her balance. Ash followed close behind, using the chainsaw to clear away any shrubbery in his way after the final Deadite had been slain.

“Y/N, keep going ahead,” he called to her. “I got the last of ‘em!”

Y/N turned to face towards the end of the woods, only for her foot to snag on a root and send her crashing to the ground.

First she heard a sickening snap underneath her. Then came the pain.

Y/N had experienced many injuries in the times she and Ash had been fighting Deadites together, but this may have been the first broken limb she’d suffered. She’d always expected to be hurt by a Deadite, not her own stupid feet. An inhuman cry forced itself out of her lungs when the pain registered, making Ash hurry over to her.

“What happened?” he asked, panicked. “Did one of them get you?”

“I think my arm’s broken,” Y/N said through gritted teeth.

“C’mon, we need to get you home,” he said as he stooped down to pick her up. The chainsaw was no longer running but he was still careful to keep it away from her.

“No, I need a hospital,” Y/N countered.

She’d become well acquainted with how much Ash did not like medical things at all, especially since he didn’t have insurance and was likely to be thrown into a mental facility if he was honest with a doctor. She felt him falter as soon as the word ‘hospital’ left her mouth.

“Baby, you don’t need a hospital,” he said haltingly. “I could treat this at home for you.”

She used her good arm to grab onto his shirt and pull his attention back to her.

“Ash,” she said firmly. “I can feel the bone almost sticking out of my arm. I need to see a doctor.”

And so, Ash took Y/N to the emergency room and endured every single odd look given to him by nurses and other patients. He must have explained five times that no he was fine, it was his girlfriend who needed to see a doctor. His bloody clothes and her muddy clothes didn’t exactly help when they were both sitting in the ER.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly as he stroked his thumb across her free hand.

“Yeah, but I’m kind of used to the pain now,” Y/N said, exhausted from everything that happened that night.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, sweetheart,” he said and turned in his seat to face her. “It’s my fault that this happened.”

Y/N sighed and twined her fingers with Ash’s.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I insisted on coming with you and I was the one who tripped on a stupid root.”

“Yeah, but I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“Ash, we’re both adults so we’re both responsible. And besides, it’s just a broken arm. It could have been a lot worse.”

“I know but I feel like-”

He didn’t get to finish his thought when the doctor called Y/N through to the examination room.

After an unnecessary x-ray to confirm that her arm was indeed broken, Y/N was given a thick cast and a very necessary bag of painkillers before being sent on her way. She’d given exactly the excuse she’d planned on - I tripped on a tree root - but Ash didn’t have an answer for why he was soaked in blood.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he’d said when the doctor asked what happened, cutting off the conversation immediately.

By the time they got back to the car, the sun was already starting to rise, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Ash was still wide awake, but just one glance at Y/N told him how exhausted she was. Her clothes were dishevelled, her hair sticking up everywhere, her eyes red and puffy, and she shuffled her feet with every step.

“How’re you feeling, honey?” Ash asked as he unlocked the car.

“Sore. Tired. Grumpy,” Y/N said, her words slurring together. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“You and me both.”

Ash opened the passenger door for her and helped her into the seat before fastening her seat belt and closing the door again. By the time he’d gotten behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition she was already falling asleep. He’d planned on helping her clean up once they’d got home, but it looked like he would just have to shower alone while she slept. He smiled to himself and reached over the seat to gently stroke her face.

“You and me put up with some shit, huh, kid?” he said softly, not expecting her to answer before driving them home.

#ash williams x reader #ash williams x you #ash williams imagine #ash williams fluff #evil dead x reader #evil dead x you #evil dead imagine #evil dead fic #fluff #female reader #*my writing

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Is There A Word For Bad Miracle?

Summary: What if I told you none of it was accidental, and the first night that you saw me, nothing was going to stop me?

That time Rhys stumbled on Feyre committing a murder and decided he had to have her

Read On AO3

In retrospect, Feyre would never know why this time was different. When her boyfriend lifted his hand and struck her, sending her crashing to the floor, she didn’t know why it filled her with rage instead of fear. Or why she picked up that vase filled with half-dead roses and slammed it over his head.

Feyre had just reacted. It was pure anger—Tamlin bruised her face so she couldn’t attend her art show the next night and was forced to stay in, all because he wanted her with him and no one else. He’d done it so many times, had ignored her pleas for him to see a therapist about his anger and the trauma he’d endured by a former lover instead of venting his rage on her.

She suspected the control made him feel safe.

She didn’t feel safe. Didn’t that matter? He never heard her, and followed her when she left until she broke down and took him back, Over and over, until Feyre was a joke to her friends, her family. No one believed her when she said this was the last time.

They didn’t care when she left him.

The vase smashed against that sunlit blonde hair, catching him off guard. Tamlin was a big man—it took a lot to surprise him. He stumbled, pitching forward. He smashed his face against the fireplace mantle with a sickening crunch before crumpling to the ground. Feyre didn’t move, panting for air.

Blood pooled around his face, and still Tamlin didn’t get up. They were silent for a multitude of heartbeats.

“Tam?” she whispered as cold slithered down her spine. He didn’t respond. Feyre crept closer and closer, pushing aside strands of his hair to look at him. With shaking hands, she pressed her fingers to his neck, trying to find a pulse.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Oh—fuck.”

Feyre stepped away from him, scrambling for her phone before she remembered it was in his pocket. She wasn’t allowed unrestricted access to it, given how he felt she abused her privilege and talked badly about him. He was determined to control everything about her—even her thoughts.

Feyre fished it out of his back pocket before laughing. Who was she going to text? Lucien? Nesta? And say what?

Hey–I murdered my boyfriend, can you help me clean up my fireplace?

No, Feyre couldn’t involve them in this. She should call the police and tell them what happened. They’d see the bruises and they’d…put her in jail because she’d still killed someone. And what was wrong with her that her first thought was cleaning up the evidence instead of guilt—remorse?

But Feyre knew, as she looked down at him, that eventually one of them was going to die. She’d known it every time he’d struck her, every time his fingers had curled around her throat in anger that one day he wouldn’t stop in time. This felt inevitable and in some ways, she’d made her peace with it long ago.

To be fair, she’d always assumed their roles reversed.

Feyre didn’t know what her plan was. She was moving on autopilot. Leaving her phone on the coffee table, Feyre fished out anything identifying from his jeans before reaching for his ankle. She’d just…drag him, she thought.

She hadn’t realized just how heavy Tamlin was. By the time Feyre got to the front door she was drenched in sweat and she’d left a bloody trail in her wake. She wanted to scream. What was she supposed to do? Burn down her house? Which was worse? She could say she came home and the house was on fire from a lit candle and Tamlin panicked, smashed his head on the fireplace and died.

And she’d go to jail.

Either way, Feyre was going to jail. The thought ought to have sobered her. Tamlin would get the last laugh from hell, containing her in a little cell just like he’d always wanted. So Feyre kept dragging him until she somehow managed to get Tamlin into the trunk of her car. She could practically hear the podcast that would be written about her and her many, many mistakes.

Those who couldn’t do, started podcasts, or however the saying went. She drove in silence, winding her way through the city towards the one place she could be rid of a body. Velaris wasn’t devoid of crime, though it certainly liked to pretend it was. She’d seen all the articles about bodies washing up on the Sidra’s riverbank, of the suspicion people were being dumped from the docks.

Let people think Tamlin had run afoul of the gangs. He certainly loved to gamble—maybe he’d racked up debt. Maybe he’d insulted someone. Feyre could play stupid, could rip up all the floors in her house and pull the carpet out of her trunk, too. Or she’d burn the house down, fake her own death, and start over in Toronto.

A reasonable thing, she told herself as she pulled down the shadiest street she’d ever seen. With the glitter of downtown Velaris fully behind her, the warehouse district seemed…well, the exact sort of place you’d dump a body. Half the streetlights seemed to be broken and not one building had a full set of unbroken windows.

It was here, inhaling the fishy scent of the docks, that reality began to creep in on Feyre. Was she really going to do this? Feyre forced herself out of her car, heart pounding. She was shrouded in darkness now, which made everything feel more ominous somehow.

Like she was being watched by a million surveillance cameras, broadcast live into everyone's homes. Feyre opened the trunk with shaking hands before backing up with a screech.

“You stupid bitch,” Tamlin slurred, stumbling from the trunk. He wasn’t dead and she’d fucked this whole things up. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I—” Throwing you into the river seemed like the wrong response. How had her life come to this, she wondered? When had she become a monumental joke? Tamlin lurched, faster than she’d anticipated. Feyre didn’t move until they were both tumbling to the ground, his hands wrapped around her throat.

“Did you think you could kill me?” he asked, his face so close she could see his hatred burning in the dark. Feyre’s hand slid over the pavement, slicing over something sharp as she searched for anything to get him off her. Feyre was forced to reach for his fingers, trying desperately to pry them off her throat. She couldn’t breathe, and not being able to breathe always made her panic.

“Hey!” a masculine voice yelled from somewhere in the dark. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Tamlin released her with surprise, turning to look at whoever had caught them. Feyre scrambled from beneath him and without considering that she now had an audience, grabbed a chunk of a broken cinder block and slammed it against Tamlin’s jaw. She might have screamed when she hit him—or maybe that was just the sound of her heart.

Tamlin crumpled again, and this time Feyre didn’t stop. Straddling his chest, she hit him again, and again.

And again.

If he was alive, it was hardly a mercy. Feyre looked down at his bloodied, broken face just in time for the overhead street light to finally flicker on. Orange flooded through her vision, causing Feyre to blink. She turned, remembering she had an audience.

Standing over her, his face slack with what she assumed must be shock, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

She took a breath and wiped her bloodied face on the back of her hand. Waiting for his horror, for his panic as he dialed 911.

“Did you…?” he asked, blinking eyes so blue they might have been violet.

She didn’t respond, rising shakily to her feet. The thought of straddling Tamlin’s dead body suddenly made her sick. She didn’t want to look at him—she needed to be far, far away from all of this.

“Wow,” he said, running a hand through hair so dark it blended in with the night around him. Licking full lips, he took a breath. “We need to get rid of this.”

Feyre hadn’t expected him to say that. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

“The body,” he said in that rich, sensual tone. “Weigh him down.”

“Are you—”

“You’ve made me your accomplice,” he said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “And no offense, but I’m not going to jail over a man who strangles women.”

Feyre’s fingers curled around her neck, thinking of how bruised she’d be in the morning. The man—tall, she thought, and casual in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a plain black t-shirt that showed off the tattooed curve of his collarbone and powerful biceps, walked around her to peer down at Tamlin.

“How did you get him out here? Drugs?”

Feyre barely remembered. That seemed like hours ago. “I dragged him.”

He raised well-groomed brows. “He looks heavy.”

Feyre wrapped her arms around her body as this stranger dragged out several unbroken cinder blocks from the darkness surrounding them. A lock of his head flopped against his sweaty forehead, half-hiding his eyes. He worked easily, like he had experience, and more importantly, didn’t ask her to help.

Feyre, in return, didn’t ask where he’d found that chain. She merely stood there and watched him attach cinder blocks to Tamlin’s body before he looked up at her.

“Help me?”

He still did most of the work. Grunting through his teeth, they dragged Tamlin to the edge of the docks and with a heave, plopped him into the inky, cold water. There was something so final about the sight of Tamlin’s face vanishing into the depths where, ideally, he would never be found.

The stranger picked at a piece of dirt on his shirt. “Want to get Taco Bell?” Feyre blinked, huffing out a hysterical breath. “Who are you?”

He offered a dazzling smile, so at odds with the crime they’d just committed. “My name is Rhysand, but you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhys.

Her accomplice.

“My name is Feyre.”

He nodded. “C’mon. Let’s get some soft tacos. We’ll need an alibi, right? On me.”

Feyre could only nod. “Right.”

Rhys opened her passenger door with a flourish, hand outstretched for her keys. Feyre handed them wordlessly while Rhys jogged around the back of her little coup, slamming the trunk shut. This was where he’d threaten her, she thought with dread. Blackmail—she’d be trapped with another psycho instead of being free.

“So,” he said, circling away from the docks easily. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the center console. “Are you thinking soft tacos, or—”

“What do you want?” she asked, hoping it was something easy. Money? Sex? A favor he could call in at some later date, ideally when she’d already packed up the area and was untraceable.

“I like a chalupa, usually,” he mused. “But it might be better to get like, twenty soft tacos and bring them back to my place—”

“Your place? What? No, I meant, why are you helping me?”

“It’s hard to kill your…what was he, anyway?”

Feyre drummed her fingers against her knee, her jeans bloodstained and dirty. “Boyfriend.”

“Ah. Well, it’s hard to kill your boyfriend when you broke up with him months ago and have been dating me, right? We were out together, getting tacos, which is a casual, established relationship kind of food, before we went back to my place and had passionate sex for the rest of the night.”

It should have scared her, how casually he said that. There was humor in his voice—like he knew he was being absurd. It wasn’t a proposition, or at least, she didn’t think it was.

“We ah, should probably get our stories straight though,” he added, glancing sideways at her. “Just in case.”

“My house is covered in Tamlin’s blood. The minute the cops show up with a black light, they’ll see it.”

“I know some guys who can help with that,” he offered. “Clean it up, but if you want them to come rip out your flooring, they are quick and discreet.”

“What do you do for a living?” she asked.

“Ah, good question. My girlfriend would know that. I work in finance.”

“Finance,” she repeated suspiciously. “But you know discreet contractors?”

“You should see the parties we hold,” he said with a grin. When she didn’t smile, he softened his expression. “I’m joking. My buddy Cassian runs a business. He’d do it as a favor—no questions asked. Just mop up the blood when you get home, okay? He can have it done in a day or two and you can crash with me. I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“Why would you help me? I just killed a man, remember?”

“And I helped,” he reminded her, stopping at a light. “We’re in this together now. I’m not going down over a piece of shit strangling his girlfriend on the docks and neither are you. So we’re gonna spend tonight eating tacos and getting our story straight and in the morning, I’m gonna drive you home, help you clean up your place, and bring you back while Cassian gets rid of your floors.”

“And how long will we…?” Feyre didn’t know how to even ask.

Rhys shrugged. “I figure we can keep up appearances for a few months until people stop looking for him.”

“This isn’t going to work,” she said, her hysteria rising again. Rhys’s hand slid to her thigh, squeezing until she took a breath.

“Breathe, Feyre, darling. Everything is going to be okay. That’s a good girl, breathing through your nose. Release it through your mouth. Good…very good. You’re going to be okay.”

She leaned her head back against the seat. “Maybe I should just turn myself in.”

“No,” he said, looking over with those star bright eyes. “You deserve to live, Feyre.”

She didn’t know how to make sense of that.

You deserve to live.

While he pulled into a drive thru and ordered enough food for ten people, Feyre turned his words over and over in her head. She hadn’t been living these last three years. Merely surviving. Constantly walking on eggshells to try and keep Tamlin from getting angry. Doing what he asked, even though it made her miserable. Giving him access to her life, control over the food she ate and the clothes she wore.

And maybe killing him was the wrong response—but it was the first choice Feyre had made without any consideration for his comfort in years. A bad choice—but a choice nonetheless.

Rhys set a hot bag of food on her lap and began driving deep into downtown.

“My place tonight,” he said firmly, with no room for negotiation. “You can shower and sleep, and we can get to know each other.” She nodded.

Rhys wasn’t lying that he had a place downtown, though he’d certainly undersold it. He had on of the brownstones she’d always admired and knew she’d never be able to afford. Made of gorgeous brick she assumed, though his was covered in lush, green ivy that her sister Elain would have adored. Little flowers wove their way through the curling vines, making it seem as if his home was protected by some kind of magic.

Any other day, Feyre might have marveled at the sheer scale and size of his place—tonight, all she wanted was to crawl beneath hot water. His home was decorated beautifully and she wondered if that was his style, or he’d paid someone to do it.

“Use my bathroom,” he offered generously, leading her through his bedroom. She tried not to think of the man in front of her, one hand clutching a greasy bag of tacos and the other on her shoulder, laying on those dark satin sheets. “It’s nicer than the guest one and has the added benefit of having shampoo in it.”

Rhys flashed her an apologetic smile. “I don’t have company often.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” she said, aware of how flirty she sounded. He arched his brow.

“Believe it, darling,” he all but purred in response.

He left her there with nothing but a smirk and a soft, “What’s mine is yours.” His shower was obscene, big enough for the two of them. Water poured from all direction, and for a minute, Feyre could pretend she was here because she’d met him and she genuinely liked him.

But when she closed her eyes, she saw Tamlin hovering over her, his hands wrapped around her throat.

She saw his face disappearing into the water.

Feyre stole Rhys’s fluffy white robe when she was done, padding out into the bedroom where he’d helpfully laid out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of dark boxer shorts—all clean. All things his girlfriend might wear. Feyre put them on before rifling through his drawers for a pair of sweatpants or athletic shorts. She wasn’t going out there like this.

She found gray sweatpants and without wondering what they looked like on him, she cinched them around her small waist and knotted the ties. Good enough. She was comfortable at least.

She padded into his large living room where he’d spread tacos over a glass coffee table. Bottles of water sat on coasters, alongside several different types of beer. It was strangely endearing how he was trying to make this experience palatable.

What would the murder podcasters say about this?

Feyre bet Rhys would have groupies in jail.

He stared when she came in, eyes wide. Feyre was still combing through her hair, wishing she’d nabbed some of his socks, too. “I borrowed your pants. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I ah…” he cleared his throat, looking back at his spread. “Take whatever you like.”

“So,” she began, sitting carefully beside him on his expensive looking couch. “Fake dating?”

He smiled. “That’s right. Let's get our story straight, hm?”

And they did. Feyre slid to the floor to better eat without making a mess while she and Rhys talked. He was easy to talk to, too. He told her about his sister at college and his parents divorce. About college and his friends and how he spent his time. She learned what kind of music he liked, the shows he watched, his favorite movies.

She shared, too. She told him about her sisters and her father’s death. About how she painted and her hopes of making it big one day—big enough to support herself, anyway. How her house had belonged to her father and neither of her sisters wanted it, which was how Feyre had ended up living somewhere without a mortgage or rent.

And, inevitably, to Tamlin. How they’d met, when he’d become mean—how she’d tried and tried to leave and how he’d keep coming over with gifts and threats depending on his mood. How she kept taking him back because it felt inevitable. She couldn’t escape him so why even try?

Rhys just listened, even when she rested her shoulder against his knee.

“I don’t think love is supposed to be so hard,” he finally offered, looking down at her with sympathy that didn’t feel pitying. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you know you didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying and failing to take her eyes off of him.

“We should get some sleep,” he finally said. And despite his jokes about a night of passionate sex, he merely showed her to his guest room across the house and told her if she needed anything, to just yell. She fell asleep quickly, sinking into nightmares where Tamlin somehow rose from the dead and found her, dragged her from bed, and forced her to take his place.

Feyre woke to darkness and the sound of someone's voice.

“Feyre?”

Rhys was in the doorway, shirtless in just a pair of athletic shorts. “You were screaming.”

Was she? But she must have been, given how hoarse her voice was. Rhys held the doorway, unmoving though his chest rose and fell rapidly. She could see his tattoos in the warm light from the hall—black whorls of ink decorated the golden brown musculature of his upper torso. Mountains graced his powerful knees.

Could Tamlin get through this man, she wondered? Rhys looked as if every inch of him had been lovingly carved and something about him exuded strength.

“I…” she whispered, scooting from the center of the bed to the side closest to the shaded window. She pulled the blanket back wordlessly, inviting him to join her. He was a stranger—he was her protector. He’d intervened long enough to keep Tamlin from killing her, had brought her home, and asked nothing but that she help him from being implicated in her crime.

He wanted to help her, too. No questions asked.

Here, too, Rhys did not object. He merely joined her, one arm outstretched to gather her against the warmth of his body.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “I won’t let anything happen.”

Feyre believed him.

She’d woken in a strange man’s arms. Somehow, it wasn’t weird. Rhys seemed determined it wouldn’t be, and all of Feyre’s anxiety from the night before had begun to melt away. He seemed wholly unbothered as he ushered her cheerfully out the door, and Rhys got coffee while Feyre waited in his car—not hers.

She asked him only one question when they began to drive to her house. “Do you think I’m a bad person for not feeling guilty?”

He glanced over at her, hand squeezing the thigh he was casually touching. “Why should you feel guilty when the alternative was you?”

And when she didn’t respond, he added. “Do you think he ever felt guilty?”

Feyre bit at chapped lips. “No.”

“Then why should you?”

She thought about that even when they reached the house. Feyre stepped inside, expecting to see trails of blood and broken glass everywhere. In her memory, it all seemed worse. Her phone was still on the coffee table in the living room, and there was some dried blood, but not nearly as bad as she remembered.

Tamlin’s phone was gone.

“Go pack your things,” Rhys said, making his way to her little kitchen. “I’ll deal with this.”

“See if you can find his phone,” she called after him, making her way to the bedroom. They would need that. Stupid, to leave it at her house—though, she had planned to say they’d been together all night and she didn’t know what happened when he left. And Feyre certainly hadn’t considered a stranger would offer to be her pretend boyfriend for an alibi.

Now she needed it, though she didn’t know how she’d explain her phone and his at the same place. One problem at a time, she rationalized.

Feyre zoned out in her bedroom, lost in a flurry of memories and moments in that room. Everything was tainted by Tamlin—good and bad, though mostly bad. Feyre wondered how they’d even gotten there. Things had been so good in the beginning that by the time things weren’t good, she found herself willing to excuse some of it.

A lot of it.

He had a bad childhood. His last girlfriend had been horrible to him. He just needed someone to be kind to him. To show him softness, that he could trust. He was emotionally unavailable, unconcerned with the words coming out of her mouth. He didn’t listen or worse, he dismissed her feelings if he disagreed or disliked them.

And if she pushed too far, he’d lash out. Sometimes he’d just yell, but more and more, it became the back of his hand or the knuckles on his fist that ended the argument. When he was truly enraged, his fingers would curl around her throat, removing her ability to speak at all. Feyre could never figure out what he wanted.

Even then, sitting on the edge of a green and gold bedspread, she wondered what he’d really wanted. Compliance? A doll he could dress up and fuck—that looked at him only with adoration?

Or did he just want someone he could vent his own pain into? He was suffering, so she would have to suffer, too. He wanted her to.

By the time Feyre began pulling clothes from her closet and dressers, she could hear the sound of masculine voices at the door. Curious, she crept down the hall, peering into the living room toward the door.

Rhys had dressed the same today as yesterday, though the midnight purple shirt he’d thrown on clung to his muscular chest and made his biceps all the more prominent. He was holding open her front door to keep whoever was on the porch from seeing in.

“...with you?”

“That’s right,” Rhy purred, his posture utterly relaxed. “Do you need something?”

There was a pause.

“Mr. Green wasn’t at work today and his co-workers called to do a wellness check.”

“He doesn’t live here,” Rhys replied, still casual. How was he so relaxed? Feyre was sweating, was so terrified she thought her heart might come out of her chest.

“His phone last pinged here.”

She saw a smile spread over Rhys’s handsome face. “Feyre was with me all evening—if Tamlin was here, well. I guess he’s back to stalking her, isn’t he?”

More silence. “Stalking?”

“That’s right. Stalking her, hitting her when he gets too close, breaking in…things that, now that I think about it, are crimes. Right, officer?”

Why was he grinning like that? “Is that so, Mr. Moreno?”

He only shrugged. “What do I know about the laws of this fine country? What I do know is that if he was here looking for my lovely Feyre, she was very occupied. As for Tamlin—have you tried the casinos?”

Another voice entered the conversation. Cheerful, like Rhys’s, he called, “Excuse me officers, I’m trying to scoot past you.”

And in stepped the largest man Feyre had ever seen. Handsome, with shoulder length hair that fell in dark waves, hazel eyes set in soft, golden brown skin, and a smile that wouldn’t have been out of place on a billboard ad—with the body of someone who worked out every day of his life, she figured this had to be Cassian.

“Any other questions?” Rhys asked, his eyes bouncing toward his friend.

There was a mumbling of no before Rhys snapped the door shut and Cassian burst out laughing. “You should have told them to call your lawyer.”

“I’m sure Eris would have loved that,”

Cassian turned to the living room, scrubbed mostly clean while Feyre tried to figure out how to announce herself. Cassian whistled softly. “I can have this done in a day.” “

Good,” said Rhys as Feyre loudly took a step. He turned and she appeared, eyebrows raised. Cassian’s smile faded when he saw her, and too late, Feyre remembered she was covered in bruises. She needed to reschedule her show.

“Hey,” Cassian said, his voice devoid of pity, which made her feel better. “I’m Cassian. I ah…heard you wanted some new flooring?”

She nodded. “How much–”

“I got it,” Rhys said just as Cassian added, “No charge.”

Cassian and Rhys looked at the other before Cassian said, “I owe Rhys a favor…or three. Don’t worry about cost. Let’s pick you out some new floors.”

The whole thing was strange and yet Feyre almost didn’t care. She packed and then let Cassian show her different wood samples while another man—Azriel, she learned—came with news he’d put leather interiors in her car before strolling right back out of the house. When she’d asked what he did, Rhys had said IT, and Cassian said mechanic.

Feyre picked dark wood because Cassian said it would make her house easier to sell—and Feyre wanted to be rid of it. He promised her two days tops, and when she asked what would happen with the current wood, he only grinned.

Like he knew exactly why she was asking and wanted her to know she didn’t need to worry. Feyre was tempted, when she got back in Rhys’s car, to just ask him what was going on. To stare him down and demand to know how he was so calm, so unbothered. As they drove back to his place, Rhys told her amusing stories about he, Cassian, and Azriel growing up and Feyre, in turn, talked about her sisters.

She wondered what they’d make of all this. What would they say when they learned that Tamlin was dead and the police were already asking questions? Nesta was a lawyer, but maybe she wouldn’t want to help—maybe it would ruin her reputation.

And Elain was a florist. Surely florists didn’t want to be associated with murderers?

Lucien was the only other friend she had. He, too, was a lawyer and she only knew him because Tamlin had introduced them. She very much doubted she could text him hey I killed your friend, can we talk? Without angering him.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Feyre asked Rhys once they were safely tucked back in his apartment. He was walking to the kitchen, fingers reaching for a pot.

“What?” he asked her, half lost in whatever thoughts slid through his brain.

“That you watched me kill someone.”

His eyes snapped to her face. “Truthfully?”

Her heart raced. “Yes,” she whispered, her throat coated in sandpaper.

Rhys braced his body against the counter, backlit by the golden light of the afternoon filtering through an open kitchen window. “It should have been me—not you, who finished him. I was coming to help, but you…”

There was no revulsion on his face. Only open admiration, and some other emotion she didn’t recognize. Rhys cleared his throat. “You’re dealing with a lot, but I wasn’t totally lying about wanting to eat tacos and do…other…things with you.”

Passionate sex. That was what he’d said. Feyre suppressed a shiver at the thought, remembering how it had felt to wake up with her cheek pressed against his chest.

Rhys turned to fill the pot with water while Feyre wrestled internally with the idea that she was a bad person for wanting to have that with him, too. She hadn’t known him even twenty-four hours. For all she knew, he was just as bad as Tamlin.

Worse, even.

“Have you ever…” Rhys stilled, his back tense at her question. He turned ever so slightly, looking over his shoulder with unreadable eyes.

“Have I ever what, darling?”

Feyre shook her head. “Nothing. I shouldn’t—”

“Killed someone?” he guessed. It was an absurd proposition. Still, Rhys smiled like he’d done when he had been talking to the police, and Feyre knew, without him saying a word, what the answer was.

Yes.

That night, after spending the evening laughing with someone who very well might have been a serial killer, Feyre took the empty guest bedroom again, tempted to ask him to join her. Rhys hadn’t made any overtures and Feyre hadn’t invited him.

Moreno.

She’d heard the cops call him that. With her phone back in her possession, it was easy to google him. Nothing about Rhysand Moreno came up that was unusual. An instagram page that somehow already had pictures of the two of them backdated by four months.

On page two, she found one article about a man named Antonio Moreno who’d gone to jail for tax fraud, and when she clicked it, Feyre was treated to an image of a man that had to be Rhys’s father. They shared those blue-violet eyes and that midnight colored hair. Antonio, she learned, was rumored to be more than just a blue collar criminal—but the head of a powerful crime family.

A murderer, among other things.

That had been ten years ago—Rhys would have been in his early twenties when his father was put behind bars. The article only speculated, as the feds had never been able to prove his father did anything more than not pay his taxes correctly and lied to the IRS.

She set her phone down and replayed every interaction she’d had with him. Rhys, dressed casually for the docks which didn’t seem the sort of place a man with his kind of money and face liked to hang out. He’d know exactly where to find that chain and those blocks, and hadn’t flinched when it came time to dump Tamlin.

He knew a guy in construction and was good friends with a mechanic. And when she’d asked if he’d ever killed someone, Rhys had only been amused by the question. Feyre stood, her heart pounding.

She crossed the dark house for his bedroom. She’d assumed he’d be in it—and she was right about that. When she flung open the door, Rhys was certainly laying on those dark, silken sheets.

Naked.

His cock gripped in one hand, muscular thighs spread apart. He didn’t release himself when he saw her, head turned to look.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice huskier than usual.

“I—” Yes, something was very wrong. A man with his face ought to have an average sized penis at best. Feyre couldn’t drag her eyes from the long, thick erection currently straining beneath one of his already large hands.

Neither of them moved for a moment, waiting for the other to do or say something. She should have knocked and he should have tried to cover himself. Should have at least pretended he was a gentleman. Rhys stroked himself languidly, an invitation if she’d ever seen it.

“Would you like to know what I’m thinking about?” he asked when she remained still and silent. Feyre did—and she needed to know the truth.

“A thought for a thought?” she replied, determined she would have both. He smiled when she closed the door softly behind her.

Rhys stroked himself again.

“Alright. You first, darling.”

“When your father was arrested, did you take over the family business?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Googled me, huh?”

“Did you?”

Rhys slid his free hand behind his head, flexing his bicep ever so slightly. “Yes.”

“And the night on the docks?”

“That’s two questions, Feyre,” he teased, stroking himself again. “But I’ll answer because I think you’re going to crawl into my bed regardless of what I say.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered, back still pressed to the door. Rhys finally released himself, but only to sit himself up and swing his powerful legs off the bed.

“Don’t I?”he whispered. “Because I think the only thing keeping you from my bed is your fears that you should be more upset by what you did last night.”

Feyre didn’t move as he approached. “I was at the docks cleaning up a mess when I stumbled upon an angel. I would have done it for you—I would have killed him for putting his hands on you, and I regret I couldn’t do that for you. You can’t figure out why it doesn’t bother me—why would it? When you were the most magnificent thing I had ever seen with that chunk of concrete in your hands? I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was your name. I had to know it. And I would have done anything to hear you tell me.” He was towering over her, one hand pressed against the very same door she was.

“Was this all a ploy? To get me here?”

“You can leave,” Rhys told her, lowering his face ever so slightly. “I’m not going to hunt you down. You’re not an animal. And I think you know I’m not going to betray you. If you want to leave and never see me again, consider this our little secret.”

“And what will you consider it?” she asked him breathlessly, her hands twitching at her side. She wanted to touch him so badly she ached from it.

“What will I consider you?” he asked, his voice sultry—so at odds with the contemplation on his face. “The one who got away, my darling Feyre. I’ll console myself with the knowledge that you escaped that man. That your life is one you chose, and not one forced on you.”

“And if I wanted to stay?” she asked, unsure if that was smart. She didn’t know him, though she liked him.

And she wanted to know more about him.

“Then I’m going to put you in my bed and fuck you so throughly you’ll never consider leaving me.”

“Am I safe?” she asked him, raising her hand to press it to his chest. “Swear you won’t hurt me.”

Feyre could feel his pounding heart beneath her palm.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. She intended to feel the rough stubble of his jaw. Rhys smelled like salt and citrus—like a dark night over a cold sea. Rhys turned his face at the very last second, letting her lips collide with his own. And oh. That was much, much better.

His mouth was soft, his hands instantly on her face, tilting her so he might have better access to her. Feyre pressed herself against him, forgetting he’d already been hard when she came in. She could feel him pressed against her hip, all but bruising the bone.

“This was what I was thinking about,” Rhys gasped before those hands slid from her face down her body to cup her ass. She was in the air, legs hooked around his waist in an instant as she dragged her fingers through his dark, thick hair. Rhys devoured her in another kiss, tongue sliding between parted lips for a taste.

“What?” she gasped. Was he talking? Rhys dropped her to the bed and yanked at the pants she was wearing—his sweatpants, which might have been embarrassing had he not been peeling them off her body. Feyre helped, lifting her hips before she tossed her sleep shirt to the floor so she was just as naked as he was.

“This is what I was thinking about,” he repeated, hovering over her until he was between her legs, sitting on his haunches. Rhys ran his hands up and down her thighs, spreading her out inch by inch. “I was wondering what you’d sound like when you came, and how you might taste…how your body would feel gripped around my own.”

“Rhys,” she whispered as he lowered himself to the bed.

“I wondered that too. No one can hear us, darling.”

Rhys was in no hurry, giving some credence to the whole passionate sex all night statement he’d made. His mouth trailed kisses up one of her inner thighs, reaching just where she wanted him before he traded legs, moving down, and then right back up. Feyre squirmed, trying to get him to move up.

Rhys chuckled. “What’s your hurry?”

“Please,” she begged, lifting her hips in invitation.

He groaned softly. “Don’t beg—Just tell me what you want.”

“Put your mouth on me,” she whispered.

Rhys didn’t have to be asked twice. He licked up the center of her and Feyre gasped. Despite having asked for exactly this, she didn’t feel prepared. She wasn’t prepared for how Rhys moaned against, the vibrations settling low in her gut. The hands holding her open currently slid beneath her, pulling her lower half off the bed entirely while spreading her apart.

Rhys went after her like a wild animal—ravenous and desperate, his tongue sliding over her clit before delving into her body, teasing her with what it would be like when he actually fucked her.

She was burning, falling. Feyre’s fingers curled in his sheets, the same she’d admired the night before when she’d walked into his bedroom filthy and soaked in blood. Wholly unaware Rhys was hardly a guardian angel but more like the devil, dragging her down, down, down with him.

If this was damnation, she welcomed it.

Wanted it.

Feyre tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling the strands while pushing his face closer. Rhys let her, his whole world reduced to her pussy, a fact he seemed immensely delighted by. His tongue moved faster, chasing each moan that slipped from her lips until Feyre couldn’t stand it anymore. Maybe it was the stress of the last twenty four hours or maybe it was him and how he seemed to have an expert understanding of her body, but Feyre bowed off the bed and Rhys redoubled his efforts.

It wasn’t necessary. Feyre’s pleasure, once tightly spooled in her body, unraveled quickly. She didn’t mean to scream his name as glittering stars burst through the darkness behind her eyelids. And she certainly didn’t mean to grind her body against his face, hips rolling and making a mess of him. Rhys didn’t stop, his fingers kneading into the supple flesh of her ass cheeks until Feyre was wrung out and too sensitive.

“Rhys, stop, it’s too much—”

He swallowed her protests with his mouth, still wet from her orgasm. His body settled against her own, cock rubbing against her still convulsing flesh.

“You are my salvation, Feyre,” he whispered, forehead pressed to her own. Locks of his dark hair flopped into his eyes, making it seem as if he were half shrouded in shadow. Rhys was a dark prince—what did that make her?

“You’re mine,” he added softly, pushing himself into her body gently. Feyre inhaled sharply, pulling him down by the neck for a kiss. Rhys didn’t stop his invasion though he went slow, as if he knew she needed a second to adjust to the stretch, to the utter fullness of accommodating him. Feyre was adrift in a sea of Rhys, drunk on the scent of him, on the feel of being skin to skin as they shared the same body.

“Feyre,” he panted, swallowing hard. “God Feyre, you…”

Seeing him so at a loss sparked new arousal. Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed beneath his jaw before licking down the side of his neck. It was enough to convince him to move, to withdraw himself to the tip before thrusting himself back into her. He moaned when she involuntarily tightened around him, forming like a second skin against his bare cock.

“Your body, Feyre,” he groaned again, finding a rhythm that was brutal without being painful. Feyre rose to meet him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the way his hands skimmed over her, the way his mouth kissed her.

Feyre raked her nails down her back, sharp enough she was sure she must have drawn blood. Rhys all but whimpered, his pace quickening. She wanted to see him undone, wanted to make him fall apart.

An arduous task, giving her own pleasure currently rising through her. “I need to feel you come,” he panted, like she hadn’t already done so on his tongue. “Come on my cock, Feyre, darling,” he moaned, the words half pulled from his throat with what seemed like great effort.

One of his hands slid between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing with inelegant, yet effective strokes.

“Rhys—”

“Be my good girl,” he whispered, teeth nipping at her earlobe. “Come for me, Feyre, please—”And she did, like a puppet controlled by strings. Rhys did, too, and she wondered if he would have even if she hadn’t, or he would have held himself back. Rhys had gone tight, almost rigid as his precise rhythm gave way to mindless thrusting, desperate to get closer, to fuck her deeper.

Feyre pulled him close, letting them both ride through their combined release as one. Rhys buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing and whispering her name like it was a prayer to his personal god.

“Give me a minute,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“For what?”

“To have you again. I need to catch my breath,” he said with a grin. “I seem to recall I promised you all night.”

“I might need more than five minutes,” she said weakly.

Rhys kissed her again. “Take all the time you need.”

One year later:

Rhys flopped on the bed he shared with his girlfriend—wife—head spinning from champagne. She came with him, in part because his hand was wrapped around her waist, and partly because she, too, had a little too much to drink at their wedding reception.

“Wife,” Rhys said with a breathless laugh.

“You keep saying that,” Feyre teased, poking him in the ribs. “Did you just realize that’s what happens when you get married?”

“I keep waiting for you to change your mind,” he admitted, rolling to his side to look at her. She was a vision in white, her dress tight through her abdomen before flaring out around her legs. Her hair was pinned around her face, but a night of dancing and laughing had softened the pearl pins, allowing tendrils of that golden brown hair to escape and frame her pretty, freckled face.

“You’re stuck with me now,” she said, opening silvery blue eyes to look up at him. “And it’s too late for cold feet.”

Rhys laughed, then. Lowering himself for a kiss of gloss stained lips, he said, “I’d have married you the night I met you if you weren’t so freaked out.”

Feyre only smiled, pushing herself up to kick off her heels. “So you like to remind me.”

Rhys followed behind her as she sashayed through the room, fingers itching to touch her.

“You were very patient,” she added, her praise warming him.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Rhys laughed again, because he’d been anything but patient. He’d gone to his mother for the family ring a month after meeting Feyre and had spent five months walking around with it in his pocket, waiting for the right moment while simultaneously talking himself both in and out of asking. She’d think he was crazy. She’d leave him any minute just as soon as she realized what a wreck he was.

She’d married him only five hours earlier, binding herself to him with two simple words.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you were really doing that night?” Feyre asked, pulling one of his shirts from a wooden hanger in the closet. In the morning they’d be off to the airport to spend two weeks alone on a private beach where Rhys intended to fuck her every which way. Tonight, too, just as soon as his head stopped spinning.

“I was looking for you,” he recited, just as he always did. Feyre offered him an exasperated look.

Fiddling with his cuffs, Rhys said, “I was looking for you—and I knew the minute I saw you. That night one of the alarms at one of our warehouses went off. I was nearby so I went to turn it off before the cops decided to poke around. I was parked a couple blocks down since the feds still like to follow me around—as you well know. I was heading back when I found you, bashing in the face of someone already on my list.”

Feyre’s fingers slipped from the zipper on her dress. “Your list?”

She was well acquainted with his list. Though Feyre wasn’t involved in his business, a practical consideration given Rhys wanted children and a family and it was hard to raise children if both parents ended up in jail. His father had taught him that. Not that Rhys would ever find himself in jail given how close he and new mayor Eris Vanserra were.

And he paid his taxes, as illegitimate as they were. He wasn’t going to waste time behind bars when he could be with his wife.

“Yes, darling,” he agreed, tugging the zipper the rest of the way down. He wanted to see her in his shirt. “If I had known he had you, I would have moved a little faster.”

Feyre knew better to ask if anyone had come looking for Tamlin. He had no friends, no family. The police had done a half-hearted investigation given he paid far better than the city did so he could conduct business without their interference. They concluded he’d likely skipped town to avoid his debts, and if they ever found him, well…Tamlin owed more than Rhys money.

“You would have lost your chance to buy me tacos—and make a dramatic entrance,” she reminded him, allowing his hands to skim over her bare shoulders.

“I have no regrets,” Rhys informed her. “Other than he hurt you.”

“I don’t want to talk about him on our wedding night,” Feyre chided. “A thought for a thought?”

Rhys nodded as her dress pooled at her feet. Fuck fuck fuck he was so wrecked at the sight of her in those black lacy scraps she’d clearly chosen in the hopes of driving him to his knees. Feyre turned, letting him see the way her thong slid between her perfect ass cheeks, bending for the shirt she’d dropped.

“What?”

“A thought for a thought,” she repeated, obviously amused. Rhys nodded, watching as she shrugged into his oversized shirt with a pounding heart.

“I’m thinking I want to rip you out of that shirt,” Rhys told her, letting himself sink to his knees while Feyre smiled. She was so delighted by his antics, and Rhys liked bathing in the light of her pleasure. Feyre’s fingers were quick on the buttons before she came to him, letting him gather her in his arms and press his face against her stomach.

“I’m thinking I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m thinking I’m glad you found me that night—and I’m thinking that I’m so in love with you I feel like I might come out of my skin.” Rhys looked up at her, sighing softly when her fingers slid through his hair, scratching against his scalp.

“You are my salvation, Feyre,” he whispered, certain she didn’t believe him. Rhys was content to spend the rest of his life proving it to her. “And if I had to wait five hundred years for you, I would have done it-gladly. I love you."

And he did.

#feysand #feysand fic #feyre archeron #rhysand #i want to be praised for my humor

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allyftt · 5 months

Text

An easy case for a detective~

{Heizou x reader}

Inazuma..

An Isolated Archipelago far east of Teyvat that has overcome endless storms. The people that have set foot on the islands have been met with red maple and cherry blossoms as far as the eye can reach. On winding shores, towering cliffs, in forests and mountains full of secrets, live people in peace. Endlessly worshiping their electro archon, Raiden Shogun.

Amongst those people are you, an ordinary person working for your grandma in her famous flower shop. People all over Inazuma came to the city just to buy fresh and beautiful flowers from you and your kin. They always said that your grandma’s hands were made by the god, The almighty shogun, because she always knew how to grow the best flowers and you loved to hear citizens cherish her so much.

Today was but a normal day for you, working in this little yet lively shop. Opening the wooden door, a familiar sight greeted you. Every day you felt like it was worth it whenever the scent of flowers hit your nose. On this fateful day, it felt even better with people greeting you on your way towards the shop.

Flipping the sign that states whether the store is open or not, you made yourself ready for the day. Eyes filled with joy and amusement whenever you find a new way to decorate the flowers.

Flowers were more than just decorations in your eyes, they held this certain power that made others happy and that is why people gifted flowers or liked to look at them. From a very young age you had always loved to see how your grandma picked and arranged the different flowers, she taught you everything and now you harbored the same love she had for them.

Twirling the flower in your hand, a liyuen peony called shakuyaku in inazuman, you placed it within a wooden vase. It almost resembled a bowl, but with careful inspection, anyone could tell it was a vase. Concentrating on everything you learned about ikebana*.

Sweat trickled down as you cut the stem from the delicate flower, careful hands moved as in a dance, eyes shining with determination, you inserted the blossom in the soil. Many stared as you worked, what better way to describe this scene than a magician showing magic? Ikebana is an almost forgotten art in the Inazuman custom, your family is one of the families that kept this tradition going with the arrangement of flowers.

If the Naganohora makes fireworks as a form of art, your family arranges flowers.

Many could continue to make poems about how the flowers bloomed in summer or how they wilted in winter, but no one could ever arrange a picture with the very flowers they describe. You could take pictures, but nothing could compare to art made by nature.

When you were almost done with the arrangement a crash was heard, breaking the careful concentration you had. Panicked, you looked up from where the flowers stood, and in front was a man with his face covered with a cloth. His attire spoke of a man of robberies, his ruff, and kind of lanky build furthered the picture that this man was dangerous.

“Don’t move or I’ll be forced to use harm” He said, his voice gruff. You shuddered and felt uncomfortable with this entire situation, but you couldn’t help but wonder what there was to steal in this small shop filled with blossoms.

The robber stole as much as he could, your priced vases, paintbrushes, flowers, and even the smallest amount of money in the register. It was rather uncouth and you were frustrated with this whole ordeal. The shop was left in shambles after he left, the bright and beautiful day got ruined by a mere robber.. again.

This must be the third time this month that your shop got robbed and no one took it seriously at the Tenryou police house!

That’s why you decided to take things into your own hands and walked to the police house once again this month. You knew that they had grown tired of you and your complaints, but it wasn’t fair that the thieves robbed the shop however they wanted and no one thought about you or your feelings.

You entered the station and left complaints but once again you only got an eye roll by the soldier who told you that a mere flower shop was nothing compared to the “actual” crisis. That was until this particular day..

……

" You don't understand, I can't afford to pay for what's stolen again! I'm working alone and can't just abandon my shop! Might not be a big thing for you sir but I'm trying to survive on what little money I make just like you!” you said, very upset, but it didn't seem to help no matter how much you complained. The man looked at you with a tired expression and sighed.

"Look ma'am, I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your worthless complaints. I suggest you leave this place before we arrest you and close down your shop. I'm sorry that you're getting robbed of things, but maybe you aren't capable of handling a shop." he looked into your eyes, stating how serious he was, but you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

All your years of serving the electro archon and her soldiers only to be looked down on like this. You bit your lip and walked out of the tenryou commission. Everything was worthless right now… Life wasn't on your side.

You came back to the shop and started packing some things in silence. Maybe the guard was right, maybe you weren’t capable of keeping a place like this active and popular when you were so unstable. Truth is that you realized this months ago when your grandma died, but you couldn't just stop! You needed money or else you would end up on the streets. There was no way for that to happen..

Suddenly the doorbell rang, bringing your attention to the door. There you saw a rather interesting red-haired man. His hair was tied behind his neck and his green eyes shone in the bright light. He walked inside and bowed a little.

"Good afternoon ma'am! My name is Shikanoin Heizou. I'm a detective at the Tenryou commission. I heard your little chat back there and decided to dig into the case. Seems like you've been there a few times but never been taken seriously."

Were you dreaming? Did someone come to help you with your small problem...? So life was maybe good after all!

You had to admit it, he was attractive as he stood there and told you about his small plan for catching the thieves and getting back all the things. You couldn't help but get lost in his green eyes as he never took them off you. They shone so beautifully in the sunlight, making you feel all kinds of things inside.

Ignoring that feeling since this was but a man you met a few minutes ago, not only that, but your entire shop was in ruins. Maybe the feeling you had right now was a thankful feeling! Denying the fact your face flushed and your heart skipped a beat whenever their eyes met.

“Thank you for taking the time to help me and my small family business,” you said shyly, feeling the tension and the fact the room grew a hundred times hotter you couldn’t help the fact everything you said came out a little hesitant.

“Man alive, you’re even cuter upfront! Either way, I found myself bored with the old cases Kujou Sara keeps on sending me. Your case on the other hand sounds interesting” His smooth voice spoke with confidence and eagerness to solve a case, perhaps he was born to be a detective.

“A small traditional ikebana* The flower shop got robbed, but not only that. The entire town has been suffering with robberies such as these, if I didn’t know better I would’ve thought that this was but a small case” He chuckled, and oh god that was so attractive, but keeping that thought aside you couldn’t help but feel curious about what he was saying. Small robberies have happened within this small and usually safe community, it did seem like a targeted case.

“Now that you mention it, isn’t it a bit weird that they’re targeting a small community such as ours?”

That seemed to catch the detective off guard, then he started to get a glimmer in his already shining green eyes! Snapping his fingers as if he had solved the world's biggest case, he pointed directly at you.

“Man alive, I can’t believe I missed this! A series of carefully conducted robberies have happened within Inazuma. What’s so special about these runts is that they only target small communities to not raise suspicion!”

He took your hands and you instantly flushed. Fingers almost intertwining, he sighed and blew air out of his nose looking extremely satisfied with his findings.

“This made things so much easier, we could track their next movement thanks to this discovery! Cracking a case such as this always gives me thrills!” He rambled.

A small giggle left your mouth, he honestly looked like a dog with how happy he got talking about “Solving cases”. His happiness seemed to be very contagious, soon you found yourself beaming alongside him and making your way towards the next location to find the robbers!

On the path that led you and Heizou towards the edge of Inazuma city, you found a small trace of shakuyaku flower decorating the track. Your heart clenched at the destroyed flower, you sincerely hoped that you would find the robber soon so you can teach them a lesson!

At the same time, you couldn’t help but feel lucky that your things got stolen, the time you spent with the detective felt magical and priceless. You wouldn't trade the small talks he would hold with you nor would you forget the face he had when you arranged a small flower crown within seconds.

It felt special that you had this detective all to yourself during that time, never minding the fact that the shop that helped you get through so many tough times is in ruins as you make your way. What was supposed to be a day's worth of travel turned into three days with how sidetracked you and Heizou got.

Asking each other questions, communicating, getting closer, and learning new stuff with each other. Having meals with him was probably your favorite time, but time was certainly not in your favor. You and Heizou found yourself in front of your destination with some treasure hoarders occupying the goods.

Heizou made quick movements and got them captured within seconds, it almost felt too fast and you couldn’t help but mourn the loss of time.

You wanted to spend more time with the redhead.

Either way, you felt thankful… You realized that you hadn’t paid him yet, nor had you thanked him. Heizou seemed to read through your train of thoughts and smirked a little to himself.

“How about a thank you date?” He cupped your face and his green eyes fell into a lock with yours. Face feeling uncomfortably hot and probably red, you could only nod.

The detective only smiled with his eyes closed and started to drag you away towards Inazuma city where the date could commence. He was rather shameless and very much a flirt, but this was something you got used to with the time you spent together with him.

It almost felt like a dream having him going on a date with you.

“Should we grab dinner before I show you my secret place?” He whispered. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest and you couldn’t deny it any longer, you had a crush on this very sly detective.

Feeling bold, You leaned in near his ears and whispered “I would love that”. The shocked face of Heizou had made it all worth the embarrassment!

Though you couldn’t help but have thoughts of doubts running through you, this didn’t seem like the first time he had been in a relationship or down this. Maybe he always offers a date after a mission to thank others and make them thank him.

This does sound a bit out of character, but who were you to say that you knew him better than he knew himself?

Either way, you were willing to give away your heart in hopes that he would gently give it back.

Dinner was spent with laughter and lots of blushing. You decided to be bolder than usual and fed the detective, catching him off guard and his flushed face was everything to live for. You felt pride that you made the shameless character break down into a flustered mess.

The food was divine and Heizou, ever the gentleman paid for the dinner. You felt a bit guilty and kissed his cheek as a way of thanks.

“Ps-s–kah I- You-! Hhhh–” his sputtering was kind of cute, hands flew up to cover his face, but the hands couldn’t hide his red ears and reddening neck. It’s your third time making him flush and it felt like an accomplishment!

To save his image he took your hand and started to lead you towards his special place, true to his words, it was indeed special.

A small meadow filled with flowers and he seemed to have planned this way before the adventure. It warmed your heart, but at the same time made you feel indescribably cold. This all seemed so prepared as if he had someone in mind and it surely couldn’t be you.

Moonlight shone a path towards the blanket thrown across the plain of green, the midnight air hugged your frame tight and Heizou’s ever-gleaming eyes put you in a trance. He made a small signal to make you sit down on the prepared blanket, then he prepared a flower pot and scissors.

Materials and items used for ikebana.

“Do you plan to show me how to arrange a pot? The promise you made to me during our trip isn’t forgotten, dearest.” He said, unphased by the fact he called you dearest.

Smiling you started to help him and steer, guiding his way on how to arrange the different flowers and how the different angles could mean different things. Slowly a picture started to form within the flower pot as two strong Peonies stood inside the pot with other blossoms surrounding them.

They didn’t cover the center flowers' beauty but gave it some privacy and wilted petals were thrown across the pot to give a sense of belonging.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t the best.

But it felt real.

The flowers told a story of a two people finding love within a wrecked environment, but with the help of each other, they managed to stay strong. The two leaning peonies looked so frail, yet with the help of each other managed to stand.

“You know, this was planned for someone”

Her heart sank.

“I saw them complaining to the tenryou commission and fell in love with them instantly. You could say that it was love at first sight”

Oh.

“Their way of speech, their way of movements, and the way they makes me so flustered that my smart mouth can’t even make a coherent sentence”

OH!

“Even under the moonlight with soil and dirt covering their hands…” He looked away with a flush, but steeled himself and looked straight into your eyes.

“You’re beautiful”

You knew that in the end, you could finally say that you were at your happiest moment. Lips locked and wind blowing through their locks, a care for this world long forgotten.

Like the peonies, they leaned on each other for support, and with time they would start to wilt… Together.

“I love you”

A shared look of compassion for each other within this land of eternity.

“More than words could describe, so the very flowers you planted shall be the witness to our love and make a story for the future generation”

His breath tickled her ears and they were left smiling under the moon's warm embrace.

#Heizouxreader #shikanoin heizou #heizou shikanoin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #flowers #genshin heizou #heizou fluff

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crazypaperwasteland · 2 years

Text

The Metallic Scent of Blood

Summary: Azriel’s mate, a spy of the Night Court, comes back home, injured and dying. Azriel is faced with the fear of losing her and vows that if she survives, he will protect her for all of eternity. He is also confronted with the notion that Eris might be more than the asshole that Azriel thought he was.

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of being able to see internal organs, Azriel panicking

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Azriel’s POV,

I sat in the garden with Elain while she planted her flowers, a common occurrence. I knew it worried my friends that I was getting close to her. In reality, I wasn’t getting close to her, not in the way they thought. Elain was just quiet, and that calm amongst every thought in my head was comforting. It had been months since I’d seen my mate, the one that none of my friends knew was mine.

(Y/N) was always very private about her personal life, as one of my spies, I wasn’t all too surprised when I first met her. But she was so good at hiding things that even I could barely find anything out about her. I knew that she was born in a wealthy household, I knew her father was a prick and her mother was very docile and non confrontational, hence why she married the prick. I also knew that she was from the Winter Court. That had been about all I could dig up about her because of how well she’d covered her tracks.

I was also a spy, so I knew the importance of privacy, and I knew just how to keep information locked away so well that no one would ever find it in a thousand years, more than that. When I found out she was my mate, when I told her, it took some time, but she accepted. She, however, made it clear that when she cooked for me, it would not be in the middle of another damned war. She explained that it would distract both of us more than it already would, and she wanted it kept secret for as long as possible. She neglected to tell me why, and I didn’t ask.

I, admittedly, did not foresee that she would be leaving though. She volunteered to go. All the spies I had in the Spring Court before it closed its borders had turned up both blind and deaf on the doorstep of the Court of Nightmares. (Y/N) was the best of the best though, a close second to my skill when it came to spying. I’d also taught her a few tricks to spying before she left to ensure that she wouldn’t end up like the others.

And for months, I got reports back. She was doing fine, even if she was very isolated from other people. She’d been the only spy I had who had been able to make it into the Spring Court unscathed and stayed that way.

So when I sat in the garden with Elain for the millionth time, I never expected that the metallic scent of blood would hit my nose. My initial reaction was that it was that Elain had just hurt herself, “Elain, are you alright?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” Her voice a mere whisper.

Then I heard a heavy crash from behind me. I turned, my hand on the hilt of Truth-Teller, ready to draw it at any moment. But then I saw the source of the crash. My breath caught.

There was my mate, the one I thought was perfectly well and safe in the Spring Court. Laying halfway on a rose bush, on her side, clutching an arm over her bleeding stomach. Her face was covered in scratches, all over. Elain gasped and I heard her stand from her kneeling position by her flowers.

I raced over once I shook myself from my daze and kneeled down beside (Y/N). I took her bleeding face in my hands, her eyes were open just a smidge. “(Y/N),” I breathed, “what happened?” She coughed, blood sputtering from her mouth and across her lips while trying to take a breath in.

I picked her up off the floor and sprinted through the house, “Rhys!” I made it into the living room where Rhys was with Cassian, trying to walk him through using his wings again after they were newly healed. “Get Madja. Now.” Rhys’s eyes landed on (Y/N)’s face and widened, he disappeared, having winnowed.

I laid (Y/N) down on the couch, not caring about the blood. I pressed down on the wound on her stomach with my own hands, she jerked at the pain, clutching at my wrists as if she would try to pull them away. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I pressed down harder as she weakly pulled at my wrists. “This is the only way I can keep you alive, okay? I need you to let me.”

Cassian came over, “let me.” He pulled my hands away and pressed down with his own, (Y/N) struggled only harder against his grip. I lifted her head up and placed it in my lap, ran my bloodsoaked fingers through her hair. Cassian lifted his head to lock eyes with me. He seemed to understand when he looked at me. He knew what I’d kept from him, from everyone. “We won’t let her die, okay?” I nodded, my eyes going back down to her face as unconsciousness weighed heavy on her.

“Hey,” I lifted her chin up and her eyes fell on mine again, “you keep fighting, okay? It’s not your time yet, you just have to wait a bit longer. Okay, sweetheart?” She breathed in a shuddering breath, nodding once, twice. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened, can you do that?” It was a weak attempt at getting her to stay awake, and probably wouldn’t help her emotionally.

She breathed in a deep breath through her nose before attempting to talk. “Hybern soldiers,” she cleared her throat, her voice hoarse, like she’d been screaming. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the-” ragged cough- “High Lady. She tried to leave the Spring Court this morning, but she was caught by,” blood sputtered onto her lips again, I wiped it away. Her eyes started to droop, my heart was beating harshly against my ribcage, panic seizing me. “She was caught by the King of Hybern’s niece and nephew. She killed them, her and Lucien Vanserra escaped the Spring Court together. But Hybern soldiers were hot on their tails, so I trailed them.”

“That’s good, you’re doing so good, baby,” I praised, my hands shaky as I weaved them through her hair. “What happened next?”

“I followed them, until the Vanserra boy’s brothers found them,” my heart stopped dead. “I incapacitated two of them, they’re still alive, or they were. But the oldest, Eris-” when she coughed next, blood shot into the air in an arch. Cassian pressed down harder on her stomach, but she didn’t wince again, she didn’t even seem to notice. “Eris snuck up on me, I hadn’t seen him traveling with his brothers. We fought, but he managed to get some bindings around my wrists and then stabbed me. I only got away because he was distracted by Lucien and Feyre.”

Madja and Rhysand reappeared, Madja rushed over and pushed Cassian out of the way. Her breath hitched at the sight of all the blood, the deep wound that was so gruesome you could see (Y/N)’s insides. “You need to leave, Shadowsinger.”

“No,” I growled, my territorial urges surfacing.

“If you want her to live, you will leave.”

I was not inclined to comply, until Rhysand and Cassian dragged me out, I fought as hard as I could, but they winnowed me out and far away.

Hours later, when we heard from Madja again, I immediately flew back to the House. I could still smell her blood, it was all over me, all over Cassian, on the couch. But the freshest of it was coming from my room. I rushed in and found her lying on the bed, staring blankly at the walls before I walked in.

Her eyes found me and I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I kneeled down beside the bed and took one of her hands in my own, “I really thought-”

“Shh, it’s alright, I know,” she ran her free hand through my hair slowly, a sharp intake of breath at the movement. I took her hand out of my hair and placed it in a resting position, I didn’t want her in any pain if I could help it. “Madja made me drink a potion that dulls pain, it should kick in pretty soon if she is to be trusted.”

I gulped, “sweetheart, what you did for Feyre-”

“I knew there was danger, Az,” she stated, “I knew that I could get hurt, I’ve known for months. But I also knew that she is my High Lady and it’s my duty to protect her. Eris just got the jump on me.”

“He could have killed you,” I growled, anger pulsing. I would find Eris and I would rip the life out of him when I got my hands on him. “He nearly did.”

“He didn’t,” she told me. “Az, I don’t think he wanted to kill me.” Her voice got quieter, as if she was unsure of herself. I furrowed my brow at her statement, “Madja said that he narrowly missed all of my vital organs, someone as experienced as him could have gone straight for the kill. He had the chance, he could have slit my throat, put a dagger through my eye or my heart, but he didn’t. And I remember….” she swallowed, “he hesitated before he stabbed me.”

I shoved that bit of information down for the moment, I’d have to tell Rhysand later, but I just wanted to be with her at that moment. “Okay, I believe you.” My knees ached on the hardwood flooring as I kneeled, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. For the first time in months, my mate was right there. She was within my reach, and I had no intention of letting her go again. Ever. I kissed the hand I held and silently vowed that I’d never allow harm to come to her again, for as long as there was breath in my lungs.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #rhysand #feyre archeron #the night court #the winter court #the autumn court #the spring court #azriel angst #cassian #nesta #elain archeron #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames

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sewellove-deactivated9782 · 2 years

Text

Aston Martin go crash crash — one shot

The MC88 Series Masterlist

mini summary: seeing your teammate crash and their car being sent flying across the track at a million miles an hour is no fun for anyone.. (especially when you may or may not have feelings for said teammate)

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: aston martin ¡driver! oc x sebastian vettel, swearing, fluff, description of crash

previous part / next part

They were racing this weekend. They had both qualified well. Well, as good as their shit-box of a car would allow them.

It was the first lap. Seb was already a few cars ahead of his teammate as they went into the first corner. He could see her in his mirror going around the outside of the Alpha Tauri. They were still side by side as they came to the next corner. Full speed. Neither one of them wanting to break first.

But Mia did break first. She was on the outside. She had made up some time, putting herself slightly ahead.

But then it all went wrong. Seb didn’t know why he had taken so much notice of his teammate. He had his own race to concentrate on. But he had been watching. He had seen it all.

“Was that Mia?” came Seb’s voice over the radio. Trying to hide the panic in his voice. He was certain it was. He had seen it in his mirror. The Alpha Tauri car cutting into the side of the other green racing car and sending it flying across the track. He hadn’t seen her hit the barrier, but he knew it wouldn’t have been pretty just by the speed she had been going. He was trying not to panic. Trying not to think about it, but he wasn’t just worrying because she was his teammate, no, no, this was something more. He had never worried when any of his previous teammates had crashed. This was different.

“Yes, that was Mia, Seb,” came the reply back down the radio from Chris, his race engineer. He pressed his lips together as he kept his eyes on the track in front.

The race had been yellow-flagged and he swerved the car from left to right to try and keep some warmth in the tires.

“Is she ok?” Seb finally managed to say,

“nothing yet,”

“what do you mean nothing yet?” he heard himself snapping at his race engineer. He hadn’t meant to. He was just panicking. It had been too long. Too long for them to not know.

“Bad crash, Sebastian, bad crash,” came the calm voice of his race engineer back on the channel,

“ok,” he nodded, “hope she is ok,” he added as he felt his heart thumping in his chest. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about her not being ok. “Keep me updated,” he said as the radio channel closed.

She must have passed out because she couldn’t remember. She remembered spinning across the track, across the gravel, but not the impact. She must have blacked out. Her eyes opened moments later. Everything spinning for a moment, and then the barrier being right in front of her and what remained of the front of her car. She could hear her engineer calling her name and asking if she was ok over the radio, but she couldn’t respond. Her body was frozen.

She could make out the marshal leaning down in front of her. Pushing her visor up as he spoke to her. She just nodded. She knew he was asking if she was ok.

He gave her a thumbs up.

“I-i.. i’m fine,” she finally managed to say over the radio. The voice of her race engineer’s voice filling her ears followed by that of her team principals. “Wh-what happened?” she stuttered out,

“contact with Gasly, corner three,” her engineer said, “are you ok?” he asked again,

“yes,” she nodded,

“ok, it’s safe to exit the car Mia, P0 if you can, Mia,”

“ok,” she nodded fiddling with controls on the steering wheel,

“P0, Mia, full switch off procedure if you can, if you are ok,”

She did. Nothing really hurt at that point. Everything was still a blur.

“Ok, when you’re ready, Mia, you can get out of the car,” her engineer said, “the marshal is there and so is the medical car.”

She nodded.

The medic already helping her to remove the head rest from around her shoulders.

“Any pain to your neck?” the medic asked stopping her from getting out, “does your head hurt?” he asked looking to her waiting for her answer,

“n-no,” she said with a shake of her head,

“ok,” he nodded, “do you think you can get out yourself?”

“i’ll try,” she said as she started to lift herself up. Her hands on both side of the car. She could normally do it with ease, but all of her limbs seemed to be asleep. She could feel her arms shaking as she tried to push herself up. Nothing really hurt but her body just didn’t seem to be working. She could move but she had no strength.

But she finally managed too. The medic helping her out, putting his arm under her as she stood.

She could hear the crowd let out a cheer.

“My chest hurts a bit,” she said looking to the medic,

“probably from the seatbelts,” she nodded as he lead her over to the car.

She could hear voices over the radio, but she couldn’t quite make it out. She could hear the driver speaking and the medic that had helped her too. She could hear them, but she couldn’t at the same time. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Her ears ringing as the track passed by.

Her teammate still behind the safety car as they waited for the track to be clear. They had been lucky that it had happened in the run off area and the track was clear.

He still weaved making sure his tyres were warm as he waited. Waited for the news that she was ok.

He heard his engineers voice crackle over the radio. He listened with bated breath, waiting for those three words.

“Mia is ok, Seb,” Chris said down the radio,

“is she ok?” he asked,

“she’s out of the car and on her way to get checked out,” Chris explained, “she seems to be ok just a bit knocked around,”

“ok good, hope she is ok.”

He had finished his race. A respectable 8th place for the car and especially because he had been fighting his thoughts for most of the race.

When he got back to the garage he had asked where his teammate was. He had been told she had already left the track and that she had been instructed to rest.

He had nodded and said no more even though his mind was spiralling.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about her as he did his post-race interviews. As he smiled at the fans. As he talked with his team as he sat through the race debrief with her empty seat beside him.

Time seemed to be going as slowly as humanly possible.

He just wanted to go check that she was ok. That she was actually ok.

It was one thing being given the medical all clear and actually being ok.

So when he was finally able to leave, that’s what he did. He had texted her asking her if she was alright, but he had no reply. He went back to his hotel room arguing with himself about what to do. He wanted to go see her. To make sure she was ok, but that meant going to her hotel room and hoping she would answer. He had debated the decision over and over. It wasn’t like it was the first time, but this was different. He wasn’t going with the intentions he normally had. He was going because he wanted to check on her and not because he wanted to ‘de-stress’ or whatever they were calling it. He also didn’t want her to think that was why he was there either.

If only she would just text him back.

He gave her a few more minutes. Quite a few to be exact as he had a shower and did everything else he normally did after a race as he waited for her to reply.

She never did.

He knew he shouldn’t have been this worried about his teammate. He had never been this troubled by any previous crashes from teammates before. But this wasn't different. He couldn’t explain why he was feeling this way. Why she consumed so much of his thoughts that day. Why his whole world seemed to almost stop as he waited on the end of his radio to be told she was ok. Why she was the only thing his mind would think about. But who was he trying to kid. He had feelings for her, but he would never admit that. Not to her and not to himself. He wasn’t allowed to have feelings for her. It was forbidden on every single level, yet he did.

He had finally decided that he would go check on her. Even is she just answered the door and said she was ok. That would be enough. That would be enough for him to just see her face that she was alright.

He knew where her room was. It was just down the corridor.

He had been there a few nights before for completely different reasons.

The walk down the corridor felt like it went on forever. Checking over his shoulder every ten steps or so to make sure no one was there. The hotel was full of F1 people and Aston Martin team members that he didn’t need seeing him.

Then he finally reached her room.

Room 440

He brought his hand to the door letting his knuckle tap gently on the door.

Hopefully she had heard. Hopefully she wasn't asleep. Hopefully she wasn’t ignoring him.

He knew it hadn’t been long, but every second that past felt like a whole eternity.

“Hey,” he said as the door opened,

“hi,” she said looking to him a little surprised that he was there. She didn’t say anything more as she let him into her room, shutting the door behind him. She wasn’t sure why he was here or what he wanted, but she knew they couldn’t have that conversation in the hallway.

She looked to him waiting for him to say something. For him to explain why he was there.

He just looked right back at her.

Looking to her eyes and trying to read her.

She just looked tired.

She was wearing a pair of jogging bottoms and a vest top. He could see the bruises that had started to appear on her chest. Probably from the seatbelt upon impact. He had had a few throughout his time. He knew they hurt like hell. Made it hard to move at times, hard to breathe too.

“Does it hurt?” he asked noting towards the marks,

“a little,” she shrugged, “hurt to breathe earlier,” she added as she held his gaze,

“are you ok?” he asked nudging a step closer to her his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to respond.

She just shrugged her shoulders again. Glancing away from him. Holding her breath because she was sure he would hear how shaky it was otherwise. She blinked her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from welling up. She had been fine all this time. She had been so strong ever since it had happened. Not allowing herself to show any weakness. The press didn’t need anymore reasons to criticise her this year. She hadn’t broken once. Not once. She had done what felt like thousands of interviews after the crash, all asking her the same thing. Yes, she was fine, just a little bit bruised. But it was more than that. It had scared her. She had crashed before. She had had worse crashes before, but this one had really shaken her. She had no control. She had blacked out. She couldn’t even remember it, and that terrified her.

She hadn’t broken once, but as soon as he had asked her how she was, she had crumbled. She didn’t want to. She never ever wanted to fall apart in front of him, but for some reason she had and it was ok. Maybe because she knew he would piece her back together. One little piece at a time. She could be vulnerable with him. Something she hadn’t been allowed in far too many years.

“Oh, Mia,” he frowned pulling her into him. Wrapping his arms around her as she laced hers around his waist, burying her face into him.

She couldn’t help it. She just fell apart. Her whole body finally letting go.

He could hear her gently start to sob. He could feel the tears start to build against his skin. He just rubbed her back. One hand was placed to the back of her head, fully enveloping her into his embrace. Holding her as close as physically possible. So tightly, he was sure it was probably hurting her chest.

But she didn’t let go.

She still held onto him as if he was the last person on earth.

She still clung to him so tightly never ever wanting to let go.

She didn’t know how it had ended up like this. A few months ago they had just been teammates, but now she was crying in his arms. Completely trusting him in that moment. Letting herself being completely vulnerable. Trusting that he would just hold her letting her cry.

They had been friends for years. They had known each other for even more, ever since she had joined the Red Bull junior programme all those years ago. But how they had gone from just friends to this in less than a season, she did not know.

It had been a mistake. She knew it was. How she had been so stupid as to let it happen, she did not know. How they had both let it happen, all of it.

It was one thing just sleeping with you teammate, it was a whole other thing to fall for them.

She stood back from him for a second, her hands still grasping onto the bottom of his t-shirt. Shaking her head at herself. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sob, letting go as she moved to wipe her cheeks, “sorry,” she said again shaking her head as she looked away from him.

Ashamed of herself for letting herself fall apart in front of him.

“It’s okay,” he said trying to reassure her as he tried to take her hand in his, “Mia, it’s okay.”

She still didn’t look to him.

So he took her cheeks in his hands making her look at him.

Looking at her as she looked back at him.

Brushing her cheeks with his thumbs.

He didn’t know what to say so he just kissed her.

Bringing his lips to hers. Stopping her tears from falling. Halting time for a moment. He didn’t want her to cry, it made him want to cry. But at that moment in time he knew that was what she needed. That the emotions had climbed so high that they needed to come crashing down and in that moment she needed him.

“It’s okay,” he said again resting his forehead against hers.

“Seb, i don’t want to-“ she said cutting herself of,

“I know,” he nodded.

That wasn’t why he was there.

“Do you want me to hold you?” he asked.

She just nodded.

#ok is said about 20 thousand times #The MC88 Series #sewellove writes #f1 fanfic #sv

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inkrabbit · 2 years

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Sodo x reader where she questions her life and leaves the church, like super angsty leaving sodo behind without telling him, because she knows if she did she would stay and she has to put herself first. When he finds out he loses it and chases after her, but can’t find her. Years later she’s at a concert and he smells her, and it’s like la la land <3 kinda like similar to what I had to do with an ex and I need comfort :(

dunno how I feel about this one either, but I hope it's good <333

“Hey. You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Why?”

“You just… look kinda out of it.”

He knew something wasn’t right. He could tell by the way you had that distant look in your eyes. You started to slow down during your duties and you became less and less involved in activities. Not only that, but you even started to avoid the ghouls. Aether had tried to talk to you a few times, but you would just tell him everything was fine and walk away.

He supposed he should’ve seen the signs. The strained smiles you gave him. How your affection towards him became less and less. He wondered if you knew how much it killed him. How he thought he had done something to make you resent him. How he missed your hugs and gentle kisses. Anytime he tried to initiate something, you always seemed to find an excuse to pull back from him.

He didn’t know you would’ve gotten so bad to the point where you left. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to his bed empty. At first, he thought you had just gotten up to go do something. But then he noticed how faded your scent was and he woke right up. The drawers on his dresser were open and, upon closer inspection, he noticed that all of your belongings were gone. He felt sick, running out of his room half-naked and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Sodo?” Aether had groggily come out of his room, having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “What’s wrong? Do you know how late it is?” When he sees the panicked expression on his face, it wakes him up a little more. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Sodo grabs the larger ghoul and drags him out of the dens, explaining how your things were gone and your scent was fading. They stopped at your room first, and his heart dropped when you weren’t in there either. So they made their way throughout the rest of the abbey, desperately trying to follow your scent through the air. But you never turned up, and the poor fire ghoul finally broke. His body trembled as Aether held him in his arms, softly shushing him.

“Jag förstår inte…” he whimpers into the other ghoul’s shoulder. “Vad gjorde jag för fel?”

The night is still prominent in his mind. The clergy had forgotten all about you, as instructed by Sister Imperator. You turned your back on them. They wouldn’t mourn their loss of you. But he did. From the first second he was summoned, he was hellbent on making you his mate. And he had gotten so close. Was that it? Did you just not want to be that close with him?

Everyone picked up on how irritable he was. Aether had tried talking him down multiple times, but it only worsened his mood. He didn’t mean to snap at him. He didn’t mean to snap at anyone. He just couldn’t get over his grief, so he transformed it into rage. It was easier to deal with.

But then the tour came and they all took their positions on stage. He loves seeing the crowd. He loves hearing them cheer for them, excited to see the show. But that’s when it hits him. The old, familiar scent of you that has him trying to regain his balance after a dizzy spell. Every emotion he’s bottled up comes crashing back down and his throat closes up. He hears Cumulus call out to him, her own scent thick with worry. He casually makes his way back to her, getting as close as he can so he can hear her over the screaming crowd.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asks him. “You doing okay?”

“I dunno if I can do this,” he confesses. “Cumulus, she’s here. I can smell her and-”

“Pull it together,” Cirrus cuts in. “Hold out just for this show, okay? We know you can do it.”

“Do you wanna talk to her, honey?” He takes a moment before nodding. “Then call her back to your room after the show. If she shows up, maybe you can get your answers. If not, then it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Don’t make it hurt any less.” But he does as he’s told, moving back to his position. Copia eyes him when he comes onto the stage, no doubt having seen his exchange with the ghoulettes. He’d tell him after the show.

And all throughout, he’s scanning the crowd. Every single face as he follows your scent. You’re somewhere by his position, he knows that. And while he interacts with the crowd, he looks at every single person there is. The screaming, adoring fans who sing along with the music and shower him with praise. Normally, it would’ve made his heart melt seeing them. But tonight, none of them matter. Only you do. Your sweet scent is driving him crazy.

That’s when he sees you, among the sea of people. You’re staring right at him, a sad smile on your face. He plucks at a few wrong cords but he quickly corrects himself. He can feel Copia’s mismatched eyes staring at him as his whole being burns with embarrassment, but he can’t take his eyes off of you. He sees you mouth a soft “hello” to him and the first second he gets, he raises his hand to wave at you. Of course, there are other fans in the crowd who squeal and wave back, but you two know who it was really intended for.

For the rest of the show, he has to physically pull himself away from his spot to go through what they had rehearsed. The guitar battle, his interactions with Aether. The larger ghoul had pulled him into a tight hug, one that helps put him at ease.

“I can smell her, too,” he assures him softly. “You’re doing great. Keep it up.”

It makes him feel better, but it also makes his throat close up again. He just wants the show to end. He wants the cheering to stop. He wants the singing to stop. He just wants to be in your arms. He wants you to tell him everything will be okay and you’re his again.

When the show finally is over, Sodo goes over to one of the security guards, giving him your description and asking that they send you back to his room. It feels like a long shot, but it’s still worth trying. He just hoped that you would accept and give him some sort of closure.

Copia catches him before he can make it to his room and ushers him to a more secluded spot, his voice hushed.

“What is with you tonight, mio amico?” he asks, brows furrowed as he looks him over. “You’ve never been so… unfocused. What has gotten into you?”

“Papa, please.” He can feel himself starting to lose his human form. “My mate-” It just slips out and he doesn’t mean to. “She’s here, Papa. Let me talk to her? Please?”

“I…” He seems like he’s at a loss, his mouth hanging open. Sodo whines softly as he looks behind him. His horns are starting to grow and he tries to stop them, the tips poking at the balaclava and becoming uncomfortable. “Okay. If it’ll make you feel better.” He tries to move past the old man, but Copia grabs his arm. “Just be careful, mio amico. Humans are ah… fragile. If she doesn’t give you the response you’re looking for, just accept it, okay?”

“Will do, Papa.” He breaks away from him, rushing towards his room. But he stops outside of his closed door. Your scent. It’s so strong now and it makes him dizzy again. He can’t take it. He takes his mask and balaclava off, breathing heavily as he tries to calm himself. With a deep inhale, he finally opens his door.

There you are, sitting on his couch and casually looking around. His feet move before he even recognizes it, and you let out a squeal when his arms wrap around you, picking you up and off of the couch so he can hold you. His face buries in your neck and he’s relieved when he notes that it’s only you he smells. No one else.

“I’ve missed you.” It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth as he finally pulls back, looking you over. You look good and he notices how that light has returned to your eyes. The light he had assumed that had gone out because of him. “I was so scared when you left that night. Was it something I did? Did I upset you?”

“No. Sodo, no. I just…” You take a deep breath, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek. He melts against your touch. He didn’t realize just how desperately he had missed this. “I wasn’t happy with the clergy. It wasn’t for me and I had to leave.”

“So why didn’t you take me with you?”

#requests #sodo #sodo ghoul #f!reader #ghost #ghost band

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sullustangin · 3 months

Text

Fluffy February Day 10: Care

SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan X Eva Corolastor

Rating: T (for Tarty at the end)

Word count: 1660. (it got legs and ran off with me; I'll probably re-edit this later to include in a larger part of my fic series)

After Action Report:

Submitted by EC, Captain of Virtue’s Thief, Supposed Commander of the Alliance, Fugitive of the Sisterhood of the Three Moons, Goddess of Grandolba VI, Grand Poomba of –

Koth struck that last one out, as well the other honorifics she included thereafter, which got more ridiculous as they went; even if they were true, she was just doing that to annoy Lana. (He left the goddess thing, because that was just cool.)

Initial reconnaissance and contact communications unremarkable. The Star Fortress over Belsavis, former Republic secret prison planet, did not have any indications of irregularity prior to Mission 3401, parts A, B, C – contact, supply, then sabotage and destruction of defensive bunker in preparation for infiltration and subsequent destruction of local Star Fortress, as detailed in Mission 3401D.

However, it was soon discovered that the Eternal Empire had retained some of the additional defenses when it came to the planetary bunker. Once the bunker was accessed, all non-Eternal Empire ships in the atmosphere were shot down. Agent Shan and Pilot Vortena as well as their Alliance shuttle were already planetside, awaiting further contact with Captain Corolastor and Shan’s contact on plant, K’Krohl.

During the barrage, one of the spacecraft shot down from orbit crashed onto the bunker itself, while the Captain was still inside.

Koth frowned at the description that ensued. “Eva, this is …sorta boring.”

“The way you tell it, it gets increasingly dramatic, heroic, and superhuman,” she replied to him as she walked up the hallway toward the private room in medbay.

From what Eva had seen through the smoke and a panicking Whiphid flailing his arms next to her, Theron had crouched low and then rose with the debris across his shoulders, before raising it up over his head in in a fit of adrenaline, allowing Eva and K’krohl to escape to a waiting Koth.

Somehow, even with two torn biceps and every ligament, tendon, and muscle in his legs strained or sprained, Theron had made it back to the shuttle under his own power.

He hadn’t made it back off without assistance. Now he thought he was going to be discharged to his own quarters. Fat chance, Eva had told the doctor.

Meanwhile, Koth had already launching into an expansive retelling for the benefit of the nurses and orderlies in the hallway. “And then he just – rawr!” Koth tried to approximate the noise Theron had made.

Theron pretended to be deaf as a stone while he sat in his hospital bed impatiently, waiting for his discharge. He had his datapad in his hands, on his lap (someone had positioned it specially so he could work and …not move anything vital). He pointedly ignored Koth and any of “ooh”s and “ahh”s he generated from his audience.

Theron…had never been a good or willing patient; the scars he chose instead of proper medical aftercare were well-known to her. He wasn’t going to get away with it this time. Especially not after the manner in which he’d gotten injured.

Eva finally caught his eye as she leaned against the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Yoo-oo,” she replied with a wave. “How are you feeling?” she asked, quietly.

Theron’s eyes softened at her inquiry, but Koth cut in. “How do you think he feels, lifting a starship –”

“It was a shuttle. Just the front end,” Theron protested with an eyeroll, but nothing was going to deter Koth from his dramatic retelling to those gathered in the hallway.

The doctor on duty came in and exchanged a look with Eva. “Are you sure he’s going to be that uncooperative?”

“Absolutely. He has a track record.”

That caused Theron’s expression to go from annoyed to more than slightly concerned at what his secret girlfriend had planned.

The doctor checked Theron’s vitals and his present disposition. “Blood pressure is a little high,” she commented.

Theron shrugged. “I’ll take a pill for it. Not like I can switch careers right now.”

“Yeah, we’re sort of locked in at the moment.” The Togruta swiped through Theron’s chart. “All right. No heavy lifting for two weeks, no ambulatory activity without assistance for one week. Kolto helps a lot, and your job… isn’t supposed to be high impact, but let’s not fool ourselves here.” The doctor made eye contact with Theron. “If you can keep your hands off a datapad for three days, that would help.” She pointedly glared at the tablet in his lap.

Theron almost reached up to touch the implants on the left side of his head to port the information up, but Eva had been quick to lay hands on his bandaged upper arm – the very muscles that were being knit back together by kolto as they spoke. “That’s a no go.”

Theron glared furiously at the bandages, but he said nothing other than “I understand,” in a calm tone.

Eva knew he wasn’t mad at the doctor or her. He was angry at his traitorous, painfully mortal body. He usually was, whether these setbacks happened. It’s why he got back to work as soon as possible; he thought it was his own failing when he couldn’t work. That’s what he was planning to do right now.

Not this time.

The doctor handed her datapad over to Eva. “I commend him to your care.”

“What?” Theron asked, immediately.

Eva pocketed the datapad and motioned for Koth’s audience to come in and start patient transport procedures. “Since you evidently can’t be trusted to obey doctor’s orders and not work, you’re gonna recover under my direct supervision on Virtue’s Thief. I’m taking some personal days to make sure my ops manager is back on track.”

He stared at her. “That’s highly inappropriate. I should be discharged to my own quarters –”

“But you suck at following doctor’s orders,” Eva reminded him. “And I’m not letting you add new scars to your collection. So you’re going to be forced to take a break.”

“There will be talk on base, and I don’t want – ”

“Theron, the only thing they’re gonna talk about is you not working for once.”

By that point, Theron’s bed was already hovering out the door toward the docks, rather than to his personal quarters high up in the main building of the base, flanked by multiple medical personnel to make sure he didn’t try to make a break for it anyway. Eva strolled along side, watching as his expression grew increasingly sullen as he realized his standard “recovery” wasn’t happening.

“And where are you going to sleep?” he asked, sharply.

Eva smirked. “I’ve only been captain for nine, ten years now. I slept in crew quarters for the first sixteen. I know which bunk creaks.”

“What if –”

“Theron, this whole thing was Lana’s stupid idea anyway. If she can’t handle it herself for three days, then maybe she shouldn’t have cooked up a galactic revolution to overthrow the Eternal Empire in the first place,” Eva told him gaily.

Everyone around them knew she was wheedling the strait-laced ops manager; it was a consistent part of their banter since he’d shown up on Odessen. The Captain would flirt with that durasteel wall, and he’d keep things on track, much to the amusement of Lord Beniko. He was impervious to her charms….or so they thought.

Eva brought a tray in for supper – stirfry with Kodari rice. She’d served it up for him on Yavin 4, ages ago.

Theron was still grumpy, even as he looked with interest at supper. “I’m an adult. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You need someone to take care of you, while you’re injured.” Eva placed the tray on the nightstand on Theron’s side of the bed. “And it’s the least I can do for you saving my life –”

“You… you would have found your own way out. I just got impatient.” His eyes dropped down toward his lap. Jedi humility and SIS duty combined to make a neat cover for his feelings.

“Were you just impatient?” Eva asked, teasingly, as she unrolled the flatware from the napkin. She shook it out with a jerk and tucked into the top of Theron’s shirt.

“No,” he said quietly. His hands, resting on his lap twitched. They wanted to reach for her, but could not. Should not. Eva decided to delay dinner.

Carefully, she draped herself in his lap, so that those anxious hands found the way to her with minimal motion, and Theron finally was able to hold her close. She’d held him on the shuttle, head in her lap, the pain obvious on his face, as Koth flew off like a man possessed…but in the rush to medical, he hadn’t been able to touch her. Have evidence she was alive and unharmed.

“I – I didn’t want you to die. I couldn’t stand it.” Theron drew in an uneasy breath, and his hands clutched at her, as her arms carefully hugged him around his neck. “I love you.”

“And the fact that I love you is why you’re here.” Eva drew back just far enough to look him in the eye. “Or is this still too close? Too vulnerable for you?”

There would always be a pause. That’s just how he was. But she always did crack open those defenses, slowly but inevitably, like her old omnitool. Theron shook his head.

She smiled.

“Dinner then?” he asked, hopefully.

With a laugh, Eva hauled herself up and got to the business of feeding Theron his dinner; he couldn’t use his arms to do it himself. “Are you actually going to go sleep in crew quarters?” he asked, halfway through.

Eva paused, fork halfway between them. “If you want me to,” she replied, honestly. “Might make it easier for your to sleep and get comfortable.”

He solemnly nodded, then his expression was all mischief. “You know, not all of my muscles were injured –”

Her laughter cut off the end of his salacious come-on.

Dessert that evening was very creative.

#fluffy february #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor #koth vortena

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