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eratosmusings · 2 months

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Stolen Destiny (II)

Feyd Rautha x fem!reader

summary: the na-baron takes an interest in you

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 1.8k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

“...humiliating…disgusting…barbaric…”

You flinch as your father’s anger roars. Nothing you do will ever please him.

“What do you think will be said of me? Of how I raised you?”

“You didn’t,” you want to say. Instead you apologize. Harkonnens are animals you rationalize. They were testing to see if you were prey and you had to show them you aren’t.

“And in doing so you’ve tainted yourself.”

It’s like a slap. The cut on your hand still stings from the solution they’d scrubbed on it. It had only been a handshake. It was a show of strength. He’d understand that sentiment if there was a cock swinging between your legs. He doesn’t stay to say more, leaving you to nurse the wounds alone.

A feast is held that night. A welcome to your guests. You're squeezed into a new outfit, one you've been told your father deems more appropriate than the one you’d had chosen. It’s the first time he’s ever taken the initiative to dress you. It gives you no pleasure to recognize the dress as one of his courtesan’s.

“Your dress is lovely,” says the Princess Irulan when she sees you again after the food had been taken away and the party mills about in the Hall. She takes your arm and strolls with you between the bodies. The familiarity between you is striking. She speaks of her sisters, the planet she calls home. You tell her of your studies. It seems you share a fondness for the same authors.

It’s odd to feel her warm smile. There were few women in your life. Maids mostly, though they rotated frequently. A few of the castle’s regular entertainers when allowed. You don’t count the courtesans who keep your father company.

“Princess,” Paul greets her with a bow, intruding on your talks of taking an excursion around the palace grounds. Those green eyes turn on you and sweep across your form. “My lady, you look stunning.” He takes your hand again and bends to kiss it while you try not to flinch. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all,” Irulan says with more kindness than deserved. “We were just making plans to visit the lake the day after tomorrow.”

The way his face lights up has your excitement plummeting. He’s eager to join. You stay as long as you can stand his conversation. It’s not long. You excuse yourself, claiming the need to check on the rest of your guests, and extract your arm from the princess’. You accept a kiss on your cheek from her before disappearing into the crowd.

You have no desire to mingle more. Whatever consequences you’ll face when your father finds out about you slipping out don’t worry you. His anger would have found something to punish you for anyways. Cool air greets you as you step into the gardens. It’s not your favorite place, but the training yard is too far in this getup.

“It’s rude to leave your own party.”

Hair raises on your arms, but you don’t turn to the voice. “You have my apologies for my rudeness then.”

“And it is unwise to keep your back to an armed man.”

“What fun is life without a little risk, na-Baron?”

He chuckles at that. There’s quiet footsteps as he paces behind you like a panther appraising a potential meal. You keep your eyes forward. “You and the princess seem to have bonded quite quickly.” He’s been watching you.

“She is easy to be fond of.”

Shadow swallows you as he steps behind you. Breath ruffling your hair he asks, “But Paul Atriedes is not?” He’s been watching you closely. A fingernail scraps down your bare arm. “Do you resent him for what he’s stolen from you?”

You spin.

The black void that is his smile is wide on his face. Humiliation sears your throat. How many people know of your father’s deepest shame? Feyd-Rautha seems to revel in that silent moment. Your pain brings him pleasure.

“I must return to my guests,” you say and step around him. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you're prepared. You evade, pull your arms taut to your chest, and dart down the hall as his laugh taunts. The respect you built with the Harkonnens was nothing more than delusion. It doesn’t matter what teeth you bare or claws you present, any show of weakness will be exploited.

You round a corner and nearly crash into a guard. The same one from earlier. He questions if you’re hurt, eyes darting the corridor behind you. He seems to find nothing. You agree with his warnings now. It’s best you don’t wander alone.

You wake unrested. Images of blackened teeth, slicing blades, and hoarse laughter haunt you into the morning hours. You’ve made the decision to retain a personal guard. The choice in who is easy.

You spend the day reviewing everything for your coming of age in a couple of days. Your father is supposed to do it, but he’s nowhere to be found. It’s tedious but the hours of distraction are welcome. And it gives you reason to decline Paul’s lunch invitation. It’s only when the sun is past its peak that you’re forced to hand over the remaining duties to your grumbling father. The swordmaster demands your time to refine a performance you still can’t rationalize. Who is it for?

Your father? A man who despises any display of femininity from you? The princess? In some attempt at an apology for a marriage that can now no longer be? Or House Atreides? The ones who’d stolen your destiny before you’d been a seed in your mother’s womb? This artistry certainly isn’t for the brutes of House Harkonnen.

The music halts half way through the fourth run. “Your timing is wrong,” the swordmaster says and has you begin again.

By time he’s satisfied, your legs burn and your patience is worn thin. You can only glower at your guard, Fandral you’ve learned is his name, as he compliments the dance. “I like the story it tells,” he defends.

“There’s not a story.” You massage the shoulder of your sword arm. The ache isn’t unwelcome, but the cause is frustrating. The time would have been better spent actually training.

“All art tells a story,” he says.

You scoff. “And what’s the story? I go crazy and start fighting air?”

“You can see it that way, but I think there’s more nuance.” He eyes the girls as you hand off the swords as if expecting one of them to run you through. “It’s the story of a girl turning into a woman.”

A laugh erupts from you. It’s a fitting story for your coming of age, at least. He tries to explain his reasoning. The symbolism of the first sword as the first menstruation, the second as the final years of youthful rebellion, and the end is the acceptance of the new role as a woman. You don’t quite believe it.

There’s no dreams of black teeth or the bite of blades that night. This nightmare is of your mother. Her face unmoving. Silent as you scream. She never moves, but she’s forever out of reach. Then she’s gone and you’re left gasping in the dark alone.

“This is beautiful,” Paul says in awe as he stares out over the lake.

It’s difficult to not let every word out of his mouth annoy you. You remind yourself he didn’t steal anything from you. His mother did. “You should see it at sunrise.”

He tears his gaze off the water. “I’d like that.” He says it so earnestly you feel you’re missing something.

“As would I,” Irulan says. You turn your head to look at her on your otherside, but her eyes remain focused on the scenery.

“And I,” the Harkonnen rasps in your ear.

His addition to the excursion had been as unexpected as it was unwanted. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy a day by the water. Even now, he’s at odds with the world around him. His stark white skin and ghastly black clothes unsettling out amongst the colors. You doubt he truly wants to see the beauty of first light.

“Another day,” you say. It’s not a promise.

You only plan to stay for an hour at most, enjoying a light lunch under your favorite tree, but Paul asks about going out on the lake. There’s only a small canoe available on such short notice, but it’s enough. Irulan has no desire to get on the water and says she’d prefer to ask Feyd-Rautha about the Spice harvesting on Arrakis. You aren’t keen on leaving her with him, but she insists and there’s guards to keep her safe.

Paul tries to play the gentleman and offers you his hand once he’s in the canoe, but he’s unsteady and nearly tips it over. You return his apologetic smile as you hear hoarse, barking laughter from the tree.

He’s inquisitive as you row out of sight. About your studies, arts you partake in, foods you enjoy. He even asks about your favorite color. You try to respond in kind, but he doesn’t leave you much time to catch your breath between answers let alone ask your own questions. It’s frustrating but you smile and bear it.

“What’s that?”

Blinking at him confused, you follow his gaze. A few meters from the shoreline was a small marble pavilion. It’s overgrown with vines, graying from the accumulation of dirt and grime. You’ve forgotten it was here. It feels like there’s cotton in your mouth when you speak. “Just an old pavilion.”

You let him take the canoe further for a while longer, before turning it back. You don’t look at the pavilion when you pass it again. It’s a relief to come back into view of the others. The canoe floats to stop beside the small dock. Fandral is there waiting, his arm extended. But Paul stands too quickly and the canoe sways. Your hand brushes Fandral’s outstretched one for a moment, but you tilt the other way and spill into the frigid water.

It's not deep. Once you have bearings you’re able to stand and your head breaks through the surface. You take in a deep, shuddering breath. There’s a commotion beside you. Paul’s head pops out and sprays more water in your face.

Someone’s speaking, but there's a river flowing in your ears that makes it impossible to understand. It's a difficult walk to the dock. Your dress is heavy and the water slows your steps. An arm reaches out to you and you take it to help pull yourself up.

Feyd-Rautha stares down at you. Not with a smile. There’s no amusement on his face. There's something new in his eyes you don’t recognize. It takes Fandral’s interference to release you from the intensity of his gaze. The guard shrugs off the jacket of his uniform and drapes it around your shoulders.

Irulan frets despite your multiple assurances you’re fine. It wasn’t deep. There was no danger. You’re wet, that’s all. Paul apologizes over and over and over again. “It was an accident,” you say in hopes of appeasing his guilt. You want Paul Atreides to leave you alone.

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#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #dune part two #stolen destiny

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sunflowergirl522 · 2 years

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Girlfriend?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: The gang finds out Eddie has a girlfriend after he almost dies in the upside down and you come in and fix everything. A shameless fix it fic

Word Count: 1891

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me okay?”

“No you’re gonna do that yourself!” Dustin cries as he looks down at the man he looked up to laying in his arms.

“Tell me you’ll look after them.”

“I’m gonna look after them.” He can barely get the words out. “But you’re gonna be right there with me, you hear me.”

“Listen I need you to tell my girlfriend I love her, she needs to know that I was still thinking about her in the end.” Dustin can barely register the sentence going into even more shock when he brings up having a girlfriend.

“Your girlfriend?” The thought of Eddie having someone back home gives Dustin a newfound strength as he stands up and carries most of Eddie's weight on his shoulder he propped his friend on. “You’re getting through this, and you’re going to tell her yourself.”

“Even if I make it to the trailer you’ll never be able to get me through the portal. Just promise me you’ll tell her, I’m sure she’s on her way back after the voicemail I left her.” He lets out a chuckle, regardless of how much pain he’s in, at how he’s imagining you leaving your grandma's house in a huff. You were always so adorable when you were angry.

Steve, Nancy, and Robin meet Dustin at Eddie’s trailer and start freaking out immediately at the state Eddie’s in. He can barely pay attention to them slowly feeling his world go dark and fear starts to grip him tightly. He doesn’t even notice when Dustin hands him off to Steve before getting something to climb back in with. He only snaps back into it when Steve slaps him across the face to wake him up.

“What the hell man!”

“Good, you're still alive. I’m sending him through!” Steve yells to Robin and Nancy through the portal before starting to lift Eddie up. “You’re heavier than you look Munson.” The girls try to catch him but he still falls onto the mattress and groans in pain.

“Shit, careful I’m delicate.”

“This assholes definitely going to be fine.” Steve helps Nancy start to get Eddie’s jacket off once he’s through and looks at Robin and Dustin. “Go get washcloths and some cold water so we can try to keep him awake while we clean him up.”

The cold water and alcohol they pour into his bites helps to bring him away from the brink of death. It’s not too long before he’s able to stand on his own while the others clean his wounds better than just dumping stuff in them. Nancy acts as everyone's nurse as she switches between Eddie and Steve and Dustin while Robin stays by Eddie’s side to make sure he doesn’t start fading on them again.

When the door to his trailer slams open everyone's attention goes to it. They’re expecting it to be the cops or some of Jason's friends so they’re shocked when a fuming girl storms in.

“Edward Joseph Munson! What the fuck is going on?!” You freeze when you take in the scene in front of you. Your eyes widen at the injured teens spread out around the living room before locking eyes with Eddie. Yours softening as you see the state that he’s in. “Eddie? Baby what happened to you?” You're breathless as you take in his still slightly bloody torso and the wound on his neck.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?!” Your anger comes back and you start to make your way towards him. “Did you think you could leave me a message like that and I wouldn’t drive all the way home?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy steps in your way to prevent you from getting any closer to Eddie. That just infuriates you more, what’s this girl think she’s doing preventing you from getting to your boyfriend.

“I’m Eddie’s girlfriend. Who are you?” Her eyes go wide and her mouth opens and closes as she tries to find words.

“Girlfriend?” Steve and Robin speak at the same time and look at eachother with wide eyes. Meanwhile you just push past the girl in front of you.

“Jesus christ Eds you’re gonna need stitches.” You inspect the wounds on his sides, hands tentatively touching his skin. “You still have that sewing kit I left here?” He nods still shocked that you’re here when just moments ago he thought he’d never see you again. When you go to grab it from his room Dustin smiles and looks at Eddie.

“I like her.”

“Yeah me too.” Eddie can’t help but smile when he sees you coming back from his room already starting to rummage through the bag.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You.”

“Did they already clean these?” You roll your eyes and ignore his response as you pull a chair out and sit next to him. Eddie nods down at you watching as you start to thread your needle.

“Woah what are you doing?” Robin asks, rushing closer to the two of you.

“Stitching up my boyfriend, what does it look like?” Eddie flinches as you start your work. “Don’t worry I’ve cleaned him up enough after bar fights to know what I’m doing.”

“She’s gonna be my own personal nurse once she’s done with school.” The way he stares down at you with lovestruck eyes leaves everyone silent again.

“Hi, I’m Dustin.” He limps over to sit next to you and extends his hand.

“Hi Dustin, I’m Y/n. I’d shake your hand if I wasn’t preoccupied.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Right, right.”

“It’s nice to meet you though, Eddie’s told me a lot about you. Says you’re like the little brother he never had.”

You and Dustin fall into comfortable conversation while you work, the others observing and trying to get a hold of Lucas, Max, or Erica. You tell Dustin about how you were in school with Eddie and you started dating sophomore year after you asked him to teach you how to play DnD so you could play with your cousins. You had never joined Hellfire club but you would constantly sit in on their campaigns. You tell him about how he was supposed to graduate with you originally and how he failed the next year because he spent too much time visiting you instead of going to school. And then Dustin told you about how he met Eddie and all the fun times they’ve had before explaining what’s been going on and why Eddie’s so injured.

“Yeah, that explains why doofus here left me a message telling me how much he loves me and that if he doesn’t make it to take good care of his baby.”

“You have a kid?”

“God no, he meant his guitar.”

“Baby you should’ve seen me in there, I put on the most metal show of my life! Finally got to play Master of Puppets.”

“Did you finally perfect it?” You can’t hide your excitement about it and he nods at you. “You’ll have to play it for me when you’re all healed up.” With that you finish closing up his other wound and back up from him.

“You’re not gonna kiss them better Sweetheart?”

“I’m still mad at you Edward, you had me scared half to death.”

“Edward?” Steve snickers after hearing Eddie's full name for the first time, not having been paying attention when you yelled it earlier.

“Shut it Harrington.”

“Who are you guys again?” You turn to face the three young adults across the room from you.

“I’m Robin. This is Nancy and Steve, we're sorta friends with Eddie, mainly Dustins though.”

“Well thank you guys for taking care of him, sorry I was so rude when I first got here. I was just worried about him.”

“It’s cool.” It’s then that Lucas and Erica burst into the trailer.

“Jesus Sinclair what happened to you?”

“Max is in the hospital, they don’t know if she’s gonna make it, we need to go.” Lucas says in a rush the same time Erica answers ‘Jason.’ As everyone piles into Steve's car you hang back with Eddie and Dustin pauses and glances between the others and you guys.

“Hey, what do we do about Eddie?”

“I have an idea about that actually. Do you guys think you could drop us off wherever he stashed his van?”

They don’t see or hear from either of you for two days. After getting dropped off at the van you rushed him into it before hopping in the driver's seat and heading to your grandmas so he could shower and get some clean clothes on before resting while you figure out exactly how to go about your plan. Once eddie was rested enough up you’d drive back to Hawkins with him and tell the police a lie about how he’s been helping you take care of your ill grandma so he hasn’t even been in town to commit these murders. You’d then bring up how Jason never liked him and he knew most of the victims so it made sense for him to be the real murderer and to frame Eddie. You had only been in contact once with Dustin with him telling you that Jason died during the ‘earthquake’ and that he had attacked Lucas. So that could help play into your plan, you asked him if Lucas would be alright with hinting that Jason was the one to attack Max and haven’t spoken to him since.

“Hey, don’t be nervous, it's all going to work out okay?” You grab one of Eddie's hands as he drives into Hawkins. You could tell he was getting lost in his head.

“What if they just bring you down with me?”

“They won’t, you have an airtight alibi now so you aren’t even going down. My grandma said she’d even vouch for you being there if they need to ask her because she loves you and knows you could never do something like that.” You kiss his cheek when he pulls into the police station parking lot. “Just relax Eddie bear. Let me make it all better.”

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled running towards him when he spots the two of you in the school's gym.

“Careful Henderson, I’m still injured.” He holds Dustin back when he goes to hug him.

“Did it work?” The younger kid looks over at you with curious eyes.

“Like a charm. Really we have Lucas to thank for that though, if he wouldn’t have been on board with the whole lying to the cops thing I don’t know if they ever would’ve eaten up the whole Jason theory the way they did. There should be a report about it on the news soon.”

“Eddie? Y/n?” Wayne drops his bag when he spots his nephew. “Thank God you’re okay.” He tears up as he pulls Eddie into a hug and you let go of his hand so he can properly hold him back knowing that he’s going to get emotional too. When the two of them part, Wayne looks over at you. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a hug too before whispering in your ear. “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

“I always will, you know that.”

Eddie Taglist: @starbxcks

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things

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xxacademy · 1 year

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tender

husband!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: succumbing to injuries inflicted by a B.O.W you fight the mental and physical battle to recovery. meanwhile, your husband does everything in his power to support you.

any leon timeline works, except re2. i did have older leon in mind though <3

a/n: inspired by lil a snippet from an anon request, find it here. anyhow, i love how this turned out, i was 🥺 writing it. pls lemme know what you think <33

content//warnings: depictions of blood & injury, hospital setting, non-graphic description of an IV, pain medication, y/n is used ONCE, pet names (dear, sweetheart, honey), hurt/comfort.

harsh white light wakes you revealing an image of horror. your trembling hands painted with your own dried blood, hooked up to an IV and a pulse oximeter. dazed, you know you’re in pain, but it’s not registering. it’s like you’re floating, possibly in a dream. a bad dream. but the reality of your condition is enough to confirm this is in fact not.

there’s a small group of medical staff standing at the end of your bed, talking quietly amongst each other. “the bloodwork came back, she’s not infected. all though the acid is wreaking havoc on her immune system, sending it into overdrive. the patient needs to be monitored for at least another two days.”

one of the nurses walks over to check on you, first, he looks at the monitors at your bedside, then goes to place a hand on your forehead. he notices you’re waking up, your heavy-lidded eyes focused on your hands.

he calls the doctor over, who pulls a chair up next to you. “hey, how are you feeling?” her voice is soft and calm.

“w-why am i here?” you mutter shakily, unable to make out much more.

“you sustained serious injuries on an extraction mission against a bio-organic weapon. you came in contact with its lethal acid, which is primarily why you’re here. your ankle is broken and you have puncture wounds in your arms.”

you’re still fixed on your bloodied hands, images of what you endured flood back. it was so intense- the last thing you remembered is a sharp talon-like claw piercing your upper arm. it all went fuzzy after that.

“you had surgery early this morning, and we have you on a morphine drip to help with the pain. please let us know if you begin to feel ill.”

you respond with an unsteady nod.

“you’re gonna be alright.” she smiles sympathetically.

another nurse comes into the room walking directly to the doctor. their speaking is hushed. “doctor, there’s a man here to see the patient. he says he’s her husband.”

“we can’t risk exposure from an outsider, we can’t have visitors yet.”

“he seems antsy.”

“well, assure him that she’s okay”-

the room is dead silent, so you can rather clearly make out what they’re saying.

“bring him in.” your voice quivering.

their heads turn, giving you a look of disappointment. similar to the one your mother gave you as a child. a sullen expression of remorse when she couldn’t afford to buy you new toys.

they do not want to hold your loved ones away from you. but it’s what has to be done. after all, it could mean life or death.

you sigh. you’re in no place to put up a fight.

“i’ll talk to him.” the nurse whispers. leaving the room.

“i’m sorry mrs. kennedy, you’re just not in a well enough state for visitors yet.”

you respond with yet another dreary sigh. fidgeting with the ring finger of your left hand.

your wedding ring is missing. you know you were wearing it prior. you’re always wearing it. sometimes you would loop it around a necklace chain, but you didn’t before this mission. surely it was on your finger.

“-doctor” you whisper.

“yes mrs. kennedy.”

“do you have my wedding ring?”

your tattered and blood-stained belongings were placed in a biohazard bag. a nurse picks up the bag feeling through the plastic for a ring.

“it’s not in here.” the nurse admits, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

“that’s okay.” you exhale.

it’s not okay. your beautiful diamond ring was more than just a pretty thing. it was one of the only sentimental pieces you coveted so highly. hand-picked by leon, it was a symbol of his undying affection. despite all the odds pinned against your love.

wanting to cry, but your bloodshot eyes are dry. the medication numbs you enough to let the pain run by, but you still feel broken, physically and mentally.

the hours pass as you bob in and out of sleep. your wavering limb’s finally settling. nurses and doctors are always present, constantly checking your vitals.

the next day two nurses come to bathe you at your bedside. gently wiping the sticky dried blood from your skin. the other trying to get it out of your hair.

“thank you, i mean it, thank you,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

it was a relief. the sweet, metallic smell was driving you crazy. it felt itchy and uncomfortable against your skin.

…

leon hasn’t left the hospital. confined to a chair in the waiting room for the last day and a half. constantly flagging down staff for updates on your condition.

“she’s doing really well, the blood transfusion took perfectly.” the nurse smiles reassuringly.

“does that mean i can see her?”

“not yet, but soon.”

leon sighs. “well anyways, thanks for the good news.”

he sullenly returns to his chair. the stress and lack of sleep painting his under eyes dark. in his grasp is a picture you two took together, one he always carries in his wallet. it was taken a few years ago and you’re kissing his cheek. it’s the only solace he can find in the depressing waiting room.

leon had fallen asleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours. slumped over in his chair, chin resting in his palm. he jerked awake when his chin slipped. it was dark outside and the lobby eerily quiet.

3:47am

leon walks to the front desk heavy-footed and groggy. “my wife, y/n kennedy, is she okay?” his voice is grave.

“yes sir, she’s sleeping- and everything is looking good. but, you should get some sleep too sir, it’s gonna be a while until she wakes up.”

“-thanks.”

the pain of not being able to see you cuts like a knife. leon can't stand the image of you suffering and alone. but he’s borderline delirious from the sleep deprivation. he returns to his chair, lays his legs out across another, and falls asleep.

leon is jolted awake by a nurse tapping his shoulder. it’s morning- warm sun seeping through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the lobby.

“do you need me to move?” he asks, still half asleep. voice deep and raspy.

“oh no mr. kennedy, your wife is on the right track to her recovery. you can go see her now.”

…

you feel much more alert, the daze the blanketing your apprehensive thoughts finally lifting. they switched you onto a far less invasive medication, which was probably helping.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen leon, and about two of those he’s been here, but just barely out of reach.

whenever the nurses praised you for the progress you made- you jump straight to asking if you're well enough for visitors. In your defense, it’s been unbelievably hard going through this journey alone.

the door creeks open, a very common occurrence of your stay. but instead peaking through the door is your blonde-haired husband.

you immediately start to cry- tears welling up and streaming down your cheeks. leon tears up too, casting a glossy filter over his blue eyes. he delicately wraps his arms around you, careful not to inflict any more pain. and you bury your face into his chest, immediately staining his shirt with your cry.

“i missed you, leon, i can't believe you’re here, i’ve missed you so much.” you sob.

“it’s really you, you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you, dear.”

you take your time, relishing in the comfort of your husband's arms. he gently rubs your back, consoling you with his touch.

“how're you feeling?”

“ugh okay, i guess. my whole body hurts and i can barely move. but the doctors say i’m improving- so yippee” your deadpan tone emphasizes how exhausted you are.

“that’s what i heard. and look, i know it’s been hard, but i’m so proud of how strong you’ve been, sweetheart.”

“i love you.”

“i love you, too” leon squeezes his embrace around you a little tighter, gently kissing the top of your head.

you smile, the first one in a while. but it quickly fades. “leon, can i tell you something.”

“of course you can.”

you fidget with your hands pressing your face deeper in his chest. “i lost my wedding ring- i think it was during the mission. i’m so sorry.”

“is that really what’s on your mind right now?” leon chuckles.

you look up at him with, tears streaming down your face. “you do understand how much that ring meant to me.”

“of course, i know, dear. but how can i care about the stupid ring if the wife i thought died is actually alive and in my arms?”

leon wipes the tears from your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw. “i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“okay.” you say sniffling your runny nose.

with a big yawn, leon stands up raising both arms up into a stretch, his shirt lifts up slightly showing off his abdomen. “i’m going to find your doctor, see when you’re coming home.”

you smile. it’s nice not being alone. you feel bad knowing leon anxiously waited at the hospital for days. but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in knowing how much he cares. leon had always cared about you- before you were even dating. that’s one of the many reasons why you married him. aside from the ongoing list of shared interests- he’s so protective, it’s one of his beautiful ways of loving you.

leon comes back to the room, “looks like they need to run more blood tests, make sure that acid is out of your bloodstream before you come home.”

you’re totally spaced out, it feels like you haven’t even had a chance to take in what’s happened to you. it’s all become a blur, taking in the moments a second at a time. you were so worried about the details it almost failed to compute that you were nearly infected by the very thing you swore your life to rid of.

like a time release valve finally triggering; anxiety washes you cold- it could have been the end. leon would have been widowed, and all your friends would have been at your funeral. your mind is playing devil's advocate. what if i don’t get better? are the doctors just hoping i stay positive?

“are you okay?” leon’s bloodshot eyes are nearly aching with concern.

“i’m scared.” your chest is sinking deeper with each anxious breath.

“why? why would you be scared?”

it may not make sense to you now- but having leon there was a sort of reality check. alone, you just survived. with him, everything has weight.

“i dunno… i just want things to be okay. i want you to be okay, i want to get better.”

leon rushes to your bedside, holding your hands in his. “but it will get better- you’re doing better, so much better! i’ll be there every step of the way. i promise you.”

you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. trying to hang on to his words.

you sob, absolutely overcome by emotion. “i love you, leon. thank you for being here, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

a nurse knocks at the door but you don’t let go of leon’s hand.

“mrs. kennedy- so sorry to intrude. but the doctor wants to do a scan of your ankle. is that okay?”

you wipe the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself.

“yes, of course, that’s alright, thank you.”

leon whispers “you got this, dear,” before standing up and sitting in a chair by the window.

…

leon has done everything possible to make the next few days easier for you. like ordering takeout and watching your favorite movies with you. serving as a distraction while you recover.

it certainly worked. he’s good at keeping you calm, and the energy light-hearted. you didn’t even think it was possible, given the grim reality of your circumstances. but somehow he can have your eyes filled with tears, giggling with laughter.

four days you’ve been in the hospital, and today is your last one. you’re able to stand up and the effects from the B.O.W are finally gone. granted you still have a long journey to recovery, at least you can go home.

…

after the agonizing hours of travel, you make it home. leon helps you into the house, guiding you to your bed. “i want to take a bath, i feel disgusting.”

“i’ll draw one for you, you want it now?”

“hmhm” you nod.

“sure thing, sweetheart.” leon tenderly kisses your forehead.

he runs a hot bath, adding a little lavender soap, just the way you like it. he walks you to the tub and helps you undress. he holds your hand as you shakily step in, slowly adjusting to the hot water.

“god my first real bath in a week, can you believe it.” you sigh, sinking your body in the bubbly water.

leon chuckles, “i know, you poor thing, those nurses really tried their best to help. but it’s never the same, is it?”

“…especially considering i was covered in congealed zombie guts”

leon laughs, “but look at you now, covered in…” he pauses to read the name on the soap bottle “…lavender dreams”

you both giggle, in love and delighted by each other's company.

“okay, i’ll leave you to it, holler if you need anything.”

…

“leon! will you fetch my bathrobe!” you yell from the bathroom. you hear his feet patter across the hardwood, “coming."

you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you brush your wet hair, inspecting the scars, bruises, and stitches that litter your body. it feels like you came home to a different person, a body you’re now unfamiliar with.

leon peaks through the door. head cocked to the side. “everything alright, baby?”

“i don’t know- it’s hard to wrap my head around it. i-i feel off.”

“c’mere i got something to show ya.” leon swoops you off your feet carrying you in his arms.

“what are you doing?” you giggle wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you’ll see.”

he delicately sets you down on the couch in the living room and sits next to you. he fumbles around in his pocket pulling out a little black velvet box.

“leon-honey, oh my god, what is that.” your eyes are round and doe-like, your bottom lip beginning to quiver.

he opens the box, presenting it to you as if his hands were a clamshell, revealing a glimmering ring set in pearlescent white satin.

“for you- i know it was hard losing the ring, but that one was beaten up anyways. you deserve something a little nicer.”

tears swell, gathering in the inner corners of your eyes. chocked up and rendered speechless, you mouth the words, i love you.

he reached for your trembling left hand, sliding the diamond wedding ring onto your finger.

“i love you, most.” he beams, the words fluttering with tenderness.

“i-i love the ring, it’s beautiful-truly. but how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“get a new ring, you were with me the entire time…?”

“i have my ways,” he smirks, planning on keeping that little secret to himself.

leon holds your hand, admiring the way your hand looks adorned by his diamond ring.

“remember when we got engaged?” he muses.

“of course i do! you took me to milan, i should have known you were going to propose.”

“you have the same look in your eyes as you did then.” leon swipes his thumb along your cheek, smiling to himself, gazing into your eyes.

“and you’re as smooth as ever” you look at him through your lashes, pupils wide. “but really leon, thank you, means more than the world”

“you are my world.” his soft lips meet yours, kissing you gently.

somewhere in the crystal pools of leon’s eyes, you find the hope you were looking for. his unbreakable faith in you, alongside his never-ending acts of love, is reassuring.

hell, it’s not going to be easy, but at least you're not alone.

⭐️tags

@yourgentlegirlfriend

#academy fics✨#thank you for reading <3 #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #leon fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #husband!leon kennedy #wife!reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil fanfiction

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newobsessionweekly · 28 days

Text

Broken Blue

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Tim's anger and harsh words drives you apart. Despite his attempts to make things better, your stubbornness wins until an accident forces you to realize you need Tim and love him more than you want to admit.

Angst

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, blood, bruises, bandages, strong language and harsh dialogue, past traumas, insecurities, briefly mention of death, Not Proofread Yet

Requested: No Words: 4k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

Tim rested on a bed in the emergency room, his normally composed face now contorted in pain. Blood, sweat, and scratches from the day's chaotic events adorned his rugged features, evidence of the intense encounter with one of the suspects. A momentary lapse in judgment, cost him a trip to the hospital, to nurse a superficial wound and his pride.

He didn't want you to worry, knowing very well hearing the news would distract you from your duties and as a first responder, focus is crucial in your job. He just watched as his phone lights up with two texts from you. Despite the pain throbbing through his body, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a flicker of guilt flashing at his conscience for not responding. But he couldn't bring himself to burden you with his troubles, not when he knew you were busy saving lives of your own.

Y/N❤️ Takeout or homemade dinner? Y/N❤️ You ok?

He shuffled the phone back into his pocket after the doctor finished bandaging his wound. All stitched up and blood free, he sighed heavily, waiting for the nurse to finish her paperwork and release him back on the streets.

"You need anything?" Lucy asked from Tim's side, carefully testing the waters.

"If you can't help the nurse with that damn paperwork, then no."

Tim was beyond angry and his grumpiness reached a level neither of them had ever witnessed. The fact that he had let a suspect slip through his fingers while he grappled with another man ate away at him. Failure was not an option, especially not for Tim.

Lucy hesitated for a moment before tentatively broaching the subject, "Should I call Y/N? I mean, if you don't want to tell her yourself, I can do that. She should know."

Tim's jaw tightened at the mention of your name, " Absolutely not." he replied firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want her to worry."

The clock on the wall ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as you anxiously check your phone for any sign of a response from Tim. But as the minutes stretch into hours, your worry only grows, gnawing at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch.

You try to push aside your concerns, telling yourself that Tim is probably just caught up with work. After all, Lucy or Sergeant Grey would've called you immediately if something serious had happened, right? But despite your attempts to rationalize his silence, you can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

Kojo senses your unease and nuzzles closer, his warm fur a comforting presence against your skin. You bury your face in his soft fur, seeking solace in his silent companionship as you absently watch your favorite TV show.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, but the screen remained stubbornly blank. A pang of concern tightened in your chest as you checked the time, noting that it wouldn't be long until Tim returned from his shift.

You replayed your texts and the morning conversation with Tim in your mind, wondering if you had said something wrong or if he was upset with you for some reason. But deep down, you knew that wasn't the case.

The sound of keys clicking in the lock jolted you from your thoughts, and both you and Kojo jumped up from the couch, eager to greet Tim as he returned home. But as you caught sight of his face, your excitement turned to shock and concern.

His handsome face was now stained with angry red, purple, and blue bruises, the evidence of a day gone wrong. Kojo bounded over to him, tail wagging enthusiastically, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear your eyes away from Tim's battered face.

"Babe, what happened? Are you okay?" you asked, trembling with worry as you took in his appearance.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch," Tim replied dismissively, his tone harsh as he attempted to downplay the severity of the situation.

But when he knelt down to pet Kojo, you couldn't help but notice the slight wince of pain that crossed his face, and your heart clenched with concern. You caught a glimpse of the bandage peeking out from under his shirt, and horror washed over you as you realized the extent of his injuries.

"You're not fine. You're hurt," you insisted, concerned as you took a step closer to him.

But before you could reach out to examine his wounds, Tim's attitude shifted, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I said I'm fine. Please, Y/N. I've had a long day," he snapped, his words sharp and cutting.

You recoiled slightly at his coldness, hurt flashing in your eyes as you tried to reach out to him again.

"Let me take a look," you pleaded, softer this time.

But Tim pushed you away, rejecting your attempts to help. "I don't need to be babied. I can take care of myself. I went to the hospital, everything is okay," he insisted, his tone final as he shut you out.

Tim's anger simmered beneath the surface, tension radiating from his rigid posture and the sharp edge to his words. Each syllable was punctuated by a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, his frustration palpable in the way he paced back and forth across the room.

"I just want to help you, be there for you," you pleaded, desperate as you tried to bridge the growing void between you and Tim.

But he backfired at your words, his expression hardening as he turned to face you, his movements sharp and jerky.

"You know what, Y/N? Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need help. But not from you. You're just like everyone else, trying to fix me, trying to change me into something I'm not."

The venom in his voice cut through the air like a knife, leaving you shaken by the force of his words.

"Tim, that's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling with hurt. "I'm not trying to change you. I just want to help you."

But Tim's anger only seemed to swell with each passing moment, his frustration boiling over as he lashed out at you once more. "Help me? You think you can help me?" he spat, his words dripping with disdain. "You don't know the first thing about me, Y/N. You don't know what I've been through, what I've seen."

Your heart ached at the bitterness in his tone, the pain in his eyes mirroring your own. "I may not know everything about your past, Tim, but I know you," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know the man you are, the man I fell in love with."

But Tim's laughter rang hollow in the room, his expression twisted with self-loathing as he dismissed your words with a bitter scoff. "Fell in love with?" he sneered, his movements sharp and erratic. "You don't love me, Y/N. You love the idea of me, the idea of some perfect boyfriend who's always there for you, always has the right thing to say."

As he turned away from you, his shoulders hunched with the weight of his own insecurities, you felt the distance between you widen with each passing moment.

"You're just like everyone else, expecting me to be someone I'm not," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Well, newsflash, Y/N. I'm not perfect. I'm broken, and I always will be."

With a final, agonized glance in your direction, Tim retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking himself away from the world.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, you felt the weight of Tim's harsh words bearing down on you like a crushing weight. You tried to push aside the pain, but you couldn't stop the them from spilling over. With trembling hands, you wiped the tears away, your body trembling as you struggled to make sense of it all.

It felt like a dagger to your heart, shattering the illusion of the love you thought you shared. You knew that it was time to leave, to give Tim the space he so desperately seemed to need.

Gathering your belongings, the weight of Tim's rejection pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, you couldn't help but question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. Did he ever truly love you, or was it all just a facade?

As you made your way to the door, the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a ton of bricks. But you knew it was the right thing to do. Tim needed space, time to process his emotions and come to terms with the trauma that haunted him. And as much as it pained you to leave him behind, you knew that staying would only make things worse.

Behind the closed door, Tim laid on his bed, consumed by the weight of his own traumas and the burden of today's shift. Regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he replayed his words to you over and over again in his mind. He knew he had crossed a line, said things he didn't mean, but it was too late to take them back now.

But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at his soul, the knowledge that he had pushed you away with his rage and irritation when he needed you the most.

Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh. He wished he could go back, erase the hurtful words that had spilled from his lips in a moment of weakness. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was wait, wait until he was sure that his anger and frustration had subsided enough to face you again.

And so, he lay in bed, the minutes ticking by like hours as he wrestled with his demons. But deep down, he knew that no amount of time would erase the pain he had caused you.

Tim's excitement was palpable as he approached your doorstep, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Tonight has to be special, a chance for the two of you to spend some quality time together away from the chaos of everyday life.

He knocked lightly on the door, eager to see your face light up with delight as you welcomed him inside. But as the moments ticked by without a response, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him.

Pushing open the door, he stepped into your apartment, the familiar surroundings bathed in a soft glow that seemed to washout his excitement. The sight that greeted him sent a chill down his spine, freezing him in his tracks.

There you were, lying on the floor, your body still and unmoving, a pool of blood spreading out beneath you like a macabre halo. Panic surged through him as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the flow of blood.

But it was too late. Your eyes stared blankly into the void, empty, and Tim felt his heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking as he held you close.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed kisses to your forehead, his mind stumbling with the weight of his loss. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with regret. "I should have been here sooner."

But there was no response, only the cold silence of death that surrounded him like a heavy cloak. And as he held you close, his tears mingling with the crimson pool that stained the floor.

Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he jolted awake from the nightmare, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to shake off the lingering clasps of the dream. Frantically, he reached out for you, his hand searching desperately for the warmth of your body beside him, but all he found was empty space, cold and drained of the warmth he craved.

Panic surged through him, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and fears. "Y/N?" he called out as he scanned the room for any sign of you. But the only response was the terrifying silence that filled the air, mocking him with its emptiness.

He stumbled out of bed, his movements clumsy as he made his way to the living room. "Please, Y/N, come back to bed," he pleaded, his voice echoing in the empty space.

But you were nowhere to be found, and as he searched every nook and cranny of his house, his anxiety only grew. "Kojo, where's Y/N?" he asked, the dog whimpering in response, adding to Tim's sense of unease.

Days dragged on with agonizing slowness for both you and Tim as he waited for any sign of a response. His phone remained stubbornly silent, your absence a constant ache in his chest that refused to fade. He sent text after text, each one filled with apologies and pleas, but you remained radio silent, a painful reminder of the rift that had grown between you.

Desperate to bridge the gap, Tim even mustered the courage to go to your place, but his hopes were crushed when you refused to answer the door. The rejection hurt like a slap in the face, leaving him feeling more lost and alone than ever before.

You found yourself seeking solace in the company of a familiar face and fellow firefighter: Bailey. As you poured out your heart to her, she listened with sympathetic understanding, offering gentle words of wisdom and advice.

"Maybe it's time to give Tim a chance to explain himself, to apologize," Bailey suggested gently.

But you remained stubborn, unwilling to entertain the thought of reconciliation until you had had time to process your own hurt and anger.

"I can't," you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. "Not after what he said to me."

But Bailey wasn't ready to give up on you just yet. "What if you met him at our place, with John and me there to... mediate?" she suggested, her tone hopeful. "It could be a chance for both of you to talk things out, to find some common ground."

But you weren't ready to entertain the idea, your heart still raw with pain and betrayal. "I appreciate the offer, Bailey, I really do," you said softly, "but I'm not ready to face him yet."

Tim sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the station, his footsteps heavy as he made his way to John. "Hey, Nolan," he said, his voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Y/N, would you? Did Bailey mention something...?"

But John shook his head, his expression guarded. "It's not my place to say," he replied, his gaze fixed on Tim with a mix of sympathy and concern. "But I can tell you this much: she's hurting, Tim. More than you know."

Tim's heart clenched at the thought of your pain, his guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. "Okay... what should I do?"

John offered him a sympathetic smile. "Give her some time, Tim," he advised. "And when she's ready, be there for her. I have a feeling she'll come around eventually."

Tim's phone rang unexpectedly, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the caller ID, his fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Y/N?" he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sound of your voice.

"Tim, uh. Sorry to bother you so late, but…" your voice came through the line, strained and weak, and Tim's heart clenched at the sound. "Can you… pick me up from John's? Please."

The urgency in your tone sent a shiver down Tim's spine, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. "Of course, baby. On my way," he replied without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled to grab his keys and jacket.

You’ve been crashing on John’s couch for the past few days after one call turned unexpectedly bad. Gladly, no one else was hurt, but Bailey couldn’t just let you go back into your empty place. She insisted keeping you close to them, checking on you, after you stubbornly refused to call Tim. But you’ve had enough. Not seeing the man you loved from the bottom of your heart, not feeling his touch, not having him close when you need him the most. So, you mustered all your courage and broke the silent vow to pay Tim back in his own coin.

When John answered, Tim barely spared him a glance, his focus entirely on you. Relief flooded through him at the sight of the woman he loved, barely in one piece, but alive, and it was quickly overshadowed by the magnitude of your injuries. You looked so small and fragile, curled up on John's couch, your body covered in bruises and bandages, but still beautiful in his eyes.

Rushing to your side, he gently gathered you into his arms, careful not to worsen your pain. "What happened?" he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

As he gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle yet firm, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you. Relief, gratitude, and love mingled with the pain and exhaustion that weighed heavily on your body. The warmth of his touch was a balm to your battered body, easing the ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being.

You recounted the events of the past few days, your voice trembling as you described the accident. Each word hurt, the pain of seeing you in such a state almost too much to bear. Tim's heart clenched at the thought of you suffering alone, and he cursed himself for not being there when you needed him most.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he scolded gently, a a surge of protectiveness washing over him.

But your eyes flashed with defiance, and you bristled at his words. "You're not exactly in a position to scold me for that, Tim," you shot back, your tone tinged with frustration. "You did the same thing."

"Is this some kind of revenge?" Tim asked.

You scoffed at the suggestion. "No, Tim, it's not revenge," you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

But as Tim furrowed his brows at you — something he often does when he’s not buying your words — your resolve began to waver. "Okay, fine, maybe at first it was about revenge," you admitted. "But I can't do this anymore, Tim. I need you even though I'm still upset."

Tim pulled you closer as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm here now, babe," he whispered lovingly. "I've got you."

As you buried your face in his chest, the weight of his words washing over you like a soothing balm. "How did you that“ you asked, “How did you manage to get through being shot all by yourself?"

Tim's embrace tightened around you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I needed you so much, Y/N," he admitted, "I tried to reach you, to explain everything. Tell you I didn't mean a single word I said."

But before he could say more, you stopped him with a gentle shake of your head. "But I left you..." you whispered.

Tim's expression softened, his gaze locking with yours. "I don't blame you for that," he said softly, his voice filled with love and understanding. "I would've done the same thing if I were you."

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle at his words, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave. "I guess we're even?" you teased, batting your eyelashes playfully at him.

Tim chuckled at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. "You're such a kid," he joked, "But I love that about you. And I love you."

As John and Bailey watched the exchange with amused smiles, John cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Alright, lovebirds," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "As much as I've enjoyed your presence, Y/N, it's time to get off my couch."

Tim grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Let's go home."

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palioom · 7 months

Note

Hellooo!! Just really wanted to say I absolutely love your fics they’re so good am always waiting for you to drop the next one 😩👌🏼

But just a suggestion!! I don’t know what it is but there’s something INCREDIBLY hot about a guy who really wants you to sit on his face 🥵 like he’s FERAL to give it to her and will go down for hours if he can and he will!! 😩👌🏼I don’t really have a specific situation in mind but I just need him to have a NEED to give the reader oral idk FKDKDKS

You can do whatever you want with this! Or don’t! Am grateful for anything 🥹

first of all I'm SO sorry with how long this took to upload! i LOVED the idea the second i saw it and I hope I could do your idea justice after such a long wait, I just didn't have the time for longer stuff with kinktober happening but thank you so much for giving me this idea!!

remedy against pain

summary: after being "gravely" injured, Oberyn knows exactly what would help him heal, and you are more than eager to give it to him.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; oral (m & f receiving); multiple orgasms; overstimulation; squirting; face sitting; 69; one small slap on the ass

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

When she was notified of Oberyn’s injury that sunny afternoon, she was worried at first. All sorts of grisly thoughts came into her head - thoughts of broken bones and bloody wounds. Another deep scar to worship later, once it had healed.

All she had been told was that he had been brought back to their shared bedchambers with an injured back and knee, sustained as he was practicing with their eldest daughter, Obara.

It was difficult to believed that a girl of eighteen years of age could injure her own father in such a grave manner that he had to stop and leave the training pits altogether.

But as the nurse who accompanied her talked more about his supposed suffering, she had to try and keep her oncoming laugh hidden. Coughing to stifle her laughter, the best rendition of worry etched onto her features when she heard of what truly ailed him.

A small, moderately deep cut on the knee and a large bruise on his back from when he fell after Obara had swiped him off his feet.

That old man.

Ever a penchant for the dramatics, the immediate notice of his quite severe injury an exaggeration like only he could procure. In grave danger to meet death, at least that was what he wished for her to believe.

Oberyn loved to exaggerate his ailments whenever she was around, keen to have his wonderful wife dote on and care for him like only she could. With her gentle hands and words, her tongue spinning the sweetest words to help him heal while he lamented about how much he had hurt himself.

She knew every time that things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be, at least not when she saw him. Before that, she would worry her head off, the most grim images in her head until she found out the truth. But she played along nonetheless, and sometimes she would even find it in herself to tease him.

“The Prince is in a lot of pain, my Princess.” The nurse informed her as they arrived at the huge double doors leading to their private chambers, seeming extremely worried. Oh, what a mean man Oberyn was sometimes, making everyone concerned for him all because he enjoyed the attention it gave him from his wife. “You ought to tread carefully.”

She chucked quietly, giving the woman in front of her a soothing smile.

“Thank you, I will make sure to treat my dear husband with utmost care.”

The nurse bowed her head before scurrying off again, leaving her to go inside their chambers.

Carefully she opened the huge doors, flanked by guards on the outside, stepping into the silence of the room. They had drawn some of the curtains so not too much light was flooding inside, dipping everything into hues of red and orange.

She could see him lying on the bed, a wet rag covering his eyes, propped up on some pillows behind him into a position halfway between sitting and lying down. Not looking too miserable, if she had to give an estimated guess from where she stood.

“Oh, my Viper.” She cooed as she came closer, watching how his entire demeanour shifted beneath her words. Suddenly he did look quite miserable, creases forming on his forehead and the corners of his mouth turning downward just slightly. Like their girls pretending to be sick so they would coddle them. She wasn’t quite sure if they learned from Oberyn or Oberyn from them. “My sweet, sweet Viper. Are you well?”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, right next to him, she took his warm, broad hand into hers, feeling the rough calluses on it. With the other, she reached up to remove the wet rag from his eyes.

“My lovely wife.” Oberyn groaned, looking back at her, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness that flooded his eyes. “My pain seems to ease in your presence, my Sun.”

She chuckled quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles while her other hand brushed back his dark, slightly damp hair, then trailed down his face to cup his cheek. Always with a slightly concerned look on her face, but he could see the small twinkle in her eyes.

Oberyn knew it would be hard to fool his clever wife, but he could still try.

“I am glad it does, my love.” She said, smiling at him as he put on the sickest expression he could. Of course he was in some pain, but Gods, how he exaggerated. “Does it hurt much, my fierce Viper?”

The phantom of a smile graced his features for just a moment, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Nevertheless, she caught it.

“Quite so, my Sun.” He answered, his piercing eyes holding her gaze, and for just the briefest moment, she believed the pain he was in. He made her believe, knowing her heart was too soft for him to truly doubt him. “The pain is nearly unbearable, if it wasn’t for you by my side, I would certainly perish.”

She leaned closer to him, placing a soft kiss onto his lips, light as a feather as he was obviously quite weak. Warm and a little chapped against hers, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin.

His lips chased hers as she drew back, having to stop himself from chasing after them further.

He was in pain, his back certainly did hurt, but not to the degree Oberyn made it out to be.

“What would make you feel better, my sweet husband?” She cooed, sitting back up again. Still stroking his cheek and her pout bordering on mock concern.

His dark eyes truly began to sparkle at her question, his fingers flexing against hers.

Oh, there were many different ideas he had about what would truly help him.

But there was one idea in particular that would ensure a speedy recovery.

“The taste of your sweet cunt, my love.” Oberyn said after a beat of silence, a small smirk on his lips. “Nothing would heal me more efficiently than that. Nothing.”

She remained quiet for a moment, her pout giving way to a smile.

“Oh, my love. You are too injured for that.” She tried to imagine him wanting to keep up the facade of being terribly hurt, but also wanting to roll onto his stomach and delve his tongue deep inside of her. As much as she liked the idea, she was more interested in seeing how Oberyn would like to go about this. “I wouldn’t want you to risk your back by helping you onto your stomach.”

His fingers tightened more around hers, a fiery desire settling inside of his eyes. Desire and lust and a need, pushing away all the traces of him being too hurt.

“And you certainly cannot kneel with your gravely injured knee.”

Clever thing.

He needed her cunt against his mouth, had been craving the embrace of her thighs around his head ever since he had woken in the morning. While she had laid beside him in bed, sunken in a peaceful slumber, her magnificent features traced by the rising sun.

But he had decided to wait until tonight, for she had slept so peacefully that he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. And the wait would have made things so much sweeter in his mind.

Imagining her taste so much that he swore he did eventually taste it.

Maybe that had been why Obara had knocked him over so effectively in the end.

“Straddle my face, my love.” He said, already moving to pull a few pillows from beneath his head and throwing them to the side, making it easier for her to position herself. “Please, my Sun. Don’t deny your husband the pleasure of suffocating between your wonderful thighs while drinking from you. Not while he is gravely injured.”

Gravely injured.

Her smile widened at his words, pulling his hand against her lips once more and kissing each of his knuckles. Slowly, deliberately. Never looking away from his eyes.

Oh, how dramatic he was. How could she deny him?

“Is that truly what would make you better, my Viper?” She asked, feeling the familiar heat pool in her stomach, the tingling on her skin and in her spine, wanting him but not wanting to cause him further injury. They both could get quite passionate, after all. “Are you certain?”

Oberyn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. If his back wasn’t hurting as much as it was, he simply would have lifted her on top of him, unable to wait any longer to have her.

“There is no better medicine than the cunt of a woman.” He replied, removing yet another pillow and reclining. Noticing how she almost gave into rolling her eyes at him. “Nothing better than the cunt of my sweet wife who is keeping me waiting, hurting.”

She removed her shoes before climbing onto the bed with a giggle, lifting her skirts as she straddled his chest and moved closer to where he needed her. Watching how his eyes sparkled with mischief, darting between her face and the apex of her thighs.

Oberyn found her movingly too slowly, his rough hands grabbing at her thighs and ass, pushing her along faster as a pained groan left him. Looking up at her, he found her looking back down at him with a raised brow, but he simply grinned, her knees finally on either side of his head, but she was still sitting on his chest.

“Oberyn.” She warned, not wanting him to be in more pain because of how eager he was. Her husband would break his neck if it meant he could fuck her somehow.

He simply chose to ignore her, coaxing her with his hands on her ass, his thick fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

“Come here, my Sun.” His voice was dark and smooth, desperate almost. So close to what he wanted, if only she moved. “Let me have you, I need your sweet cunt on my tongue, your sweet juices.”

She giggled, letting him guide her over his face, lifting her skirts again as she hovered over him. He looked ravenous and she could feel his hot breath against her folds, his nails forming faint crescent marks on her skin.

Oberyn didn’t even wait, simply pulling her down onto him, groaning at the surprised noise that left her; half moan half gasp. Expertly licking a stripe through her folds, his tongue found her clit and toyed with it. Flicking against it before he sucked it into his mouth with another groan, her hips bucking into him as she grabbed the headboard for purchase.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, grinding into him, one of her hands tangling into his hair and tugging on it. The vibrations of his noises travelled up her spine, shivers breaking out over her skin. Eyes closed and her head thrown back. “Gods, yes!”

While he started out slow at first, he quickly picked up speed, eating her like a man starved as his tongue sweeped lower, fucking into her quivering hole, his nose bumping against her clit over and over.

Like he had been denied this for centuries.

“You taste fucking delectable.” He groaned against her, one of his hands leaving her hips and moving up to grope at her breast. Ignoring how his back hurt, just needing her and her sweet noises as she pressed herself down harder onto his face. Just how he wanted it. “Exactly what I needed, my Sun.”

His fingers pinched her hardened nipple, making her whine and stutter in her movements for a second, her own tugging on his dark hair harder.

This truly was his heaven, his wife’s weight on top of him, her body freely grinding against his tongue while he took whatever he could get, lapping at her as if his life depended on it. As if her juices were the only remedy against his pain, a concoction no one else could prepare but her.

Suffocating between her warm thighs, her wonderful sounds muffled by them but still loud enough for him to hear.

He would have to make a habit out of this whenever he was sick.

But he needed her release above all, feeling how she pulsed around his tongue, how her movements became more erratic, leading him to double his efforts. He came back to focus on her clit, slowly becoming aware of how hard he was beneath the covers, just from devouring her like this.

“Please, my Viper.” She moaned, the words hitching on her breath as she looked back down at him, so close to reaching her peak. He looked gorgeous in the red and orange lights. “Oh, how grateful I am it wasn’t your talented tongue which was injured.”

He smirked, lightly grazing his teeth over her clit before sucking it between his lips once more, swiftly feeling her reach her peak right after.

Trembling on top of him as she fell into herself slightly, she still moved her hips against his face as his tongue eagerly lapped up her release. His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, over and over as his fingers dug into her ass, keeping her close to him even as the pleasure started to border on pain.

And she knew, as he didn’t stop and simply kept going, that he hadn’t had enough of his remedy yet. Still needed more to sate himself, to heal. Circling her clit, fucking into her sensitive hole, all while he began to writhe underneath her.

Oberyn loved the shift in her sounds, more on the side of painful pleasure which he knew she loved, her senses heightened and burning a path of desire inside of her as he kept going. Taking what he needed from her, trying to keep his hips still as a sharp pain shot up his back each time they rutted up into nothing, against the thin covers which provided little relief.

She took a glance over her shoulder, her hips stopping just for a moment as she saw his cock straining against the covers. Thick and hard, all from him burying his face inside her cunt, aching to be touched.

Wondering if he would end up begging for her touch, knowing he derived just as much pleasure from eating her cunt like he would with his cock inside of it. That’s what made him so wonderful, being able to give and receive pleasure just from that alone.

Choosing to ignore it and see if he actually would end up begging her, she bit her lip and turned back around, his tongue swiftly working her up again, pain and pleasure bleeding together into one. A steady buzz that had her nerves aflame and her mind swimming, torn between shying away from and pressing herself down harder onto his eager and warm tongue.

He hurled her into her next orgasm, her juices trickling down his chin and neck while he hummed into her. His own sounds bordered on pain, making her concerned amidst the haze surrounding her like a thick fog, but she knew fully well that he knew his limits.

Hopefully.

Oberyn needed her desperately, the pain in his back almost forgotten in the nagging presence of his aching cock, the friction against the thin sheets doing nothing for him. Wanting to lap at her sweet, swollen cunt but also needing her on him somehow, engulfing him.

Her hands, her mouth, her tits - he would take anything as long as it meant he could keep his face buried between her warm thighs.

Reluctantly he pushed her away from his mouth just briefly, latching onto the soft, scarred inside of her thigh. Her tiger’s stripes as he called them affectionately, from carrying his children and the weight gain that came along with that.

“My Sun.” He groaned, tanned fingers digging into her skin and his eyes closing briefly as he dug his teeth into her thigh, humming. Feeling like he was getting drunk just from her, or going crazy. Maybe even both. “Gods, I need you.”

A giggle left her through the haze in her mind, catching her breath in the brief moment of respite. She loved when he got so drunk on her that he couldn’t let his lips rest even for just a second.

“You have me, Oberyn.” She whispered, flames still licking at her insides, her blood boiling hot. Acting as though she didn’t know about the painful erection hiding beneath the covers. “I would think you have me, your tongue was deep in my cunt just moments ago.”

Oberyn groaned again, more kisses and licks and bites bestowing the inside of her thighs in a frenzy. His wife could be such a mean woman sometimes, teasing him, making him wait.

Maybe this was his punishment for acting sicker than he was.

“My cock demands your attention, my Sun.” He rasped, his eyes piercing and full of lust. His hips rutted upwards as if to emphasize his point, a deep grunt following the movement. One of pain, and it made her wonder whether she should be doing this with him in the first place. “My sweet, please. I need to find relief in you.”

Hearing him plead her to pleasure him only fanned the flames inside of her, a whine escaping her lips as her own hips bucked up. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, but just how desperate could Oberyn become?

“But you need my cunt, my Prince.” She said, brushing his hair back without a care in the world. Like she wasn’t burning up from the inside and like he wasn’t aching for her. “How will you heal if you engulf your cock inside of it? What other remedy do we have that is better than my cunt?”

Oberyn licked his lips, regretting that he had taught her to be so naughty.

“My Sun, don’t tease your bruised and sick husband like this.” He admonished, attempting to move her, but the sharp pain in his back swiftly reminded him that he shouldn’t. And he really did not want to miss her wet heat just yet, needing more of her. “I will take anything you can give me, as long as you do. Please, my darling.”

She giggled and Oberyn immediately knew that she was playing with him. Making a twisted little game out of his injury.

He would have to punish her once he was healed enough.

“Does your cock need me so desperately, my Viper?” She asked, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t wish to break my sweet husband in half, you are so gravely injured already.”

The sound that rumbled in his chest was akin to a growl, his patience for her games wearing thin as his dick throbbed with need in between his legs. Aching and desperate for her touch.

“My sweet, please.” He whined, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked up at her. Begging her with his eyes, so full of lust and hurt and desperation that she melted underneath them. “Turn around and let me feel the divinity of your mouth and tongue, my Sun. Help me heal, my Princess.”

She smirked, swiftly moving off of his face before turning around and straddling it again, feeling his strong hands grip her thighs as she leaned down.

Biting her lip as she slowly peeled back the thin, orange fabric of the covers, she let her fingers wander over his hot, tanned skin dipped in orange hues. Feeling his muscles twitch beneath it, teasingly slow as he groaned into her middle, tongue already back on her.

“Don’t tease your husband, my dear.” He whined, digging his fingers into her skin harder in an attempt to make her move faster. “The punishment for this crime is severe.”

It did nothing to stop her teasing, only moaning when his teeth nipped at her folds, her fingers finally uncovering him. Erect and red and angry, the head weeping for her and throbbing as she ran a finger along the length of it with a featherlight touch.

Tracing the thick veins, his hips squirming and his moans muffled by her, she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her. Only keeping him waiting a little longer, she finally granted him his wish, kissing the head of his cock and tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum.

“Oh, Gods.” She heard him groan behind her before his tongue dove into her, eliciting a high pitched moan from her when the pleasurable pain returned. “You gorgeous thing, my Sun.”

Just as eager as he was at the beginning, lapping at her like a man starved, home from long travels through the desert. His hands keeping her squirming hips in place.

She slowly let spit dribble down his cock, wrapping her fingers around it before she pressed her lips against the head over and over, her tongue teasing the sensitive skin with tiny licks before finally flattening against it.

When she finally wrapped her lips around him, he bucked up into her mouth, a whine sounding from between her thighs. Immediate relief spread through him but he needed more, both on his tongue as well as his cock, her head bobbing up and down. Her thighs began to tremble, the slick sounds of her cunt as well as her mouth on him pushing her closer to the edge as she took him deeper.

Her hand wandered to his balls, heavy and warm as she fondled them, just how Oberyn liked it. Taking him deeper still, hitting the back of her throat and feeling another groan against her middle, travelling up her spine.

So damn close, forgetting to move for a moment as she concentrated on the fiery sensation that threatened to set her body ablaze again, closing her eyes and whimpering around him. The tightness of her throat only spurred him on, her weight on top of him as he finally hurled her over the edge, her sounds coming out as delicious vibrations around his cock.

Yet not stopping, giving her ass a soft smack to spur her back into moving, kneading the soft flesh.

She moved in earnest now, letting him slip down her throat and stilling for a few moments before simply teasing the dark head, kissing and licking at it with vulgar wet sounds.

How she wished to look at him right now, see his dark, piercing eyes glazed over with lust and need and watch him watch her devour his thick cock. Her cunt pulsed at the thought, his talented tongue keeping her nerves aflame, the pain it elicited only helping in hurling her closer to yet another orgasm.

“One more, my sweet.” He groaned, so close himself as her mouth worked over his sensitive cock. “One more for me, let me heal myself through you.”

A sharp whine left her, hips bucking against his face.

“One more for you.” She breathed out, her fingers wrapping around the shaft again and suckling at the head. Delirious and repeating what he had said. “One more, Oberyn- Please-”

She was unsure if she needed him more than he needed her right now, still in awe of how long he could stave off on his peak despite how sensitive and worked up he was.

When the telltale twitching of his cock set in, her tongue continuously flicking over the slit, she felt him focus on her clit, closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Just needing to swallow down more of her.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, dragging out his name as she spilled all over his face, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, trembling on top of him.

It triggered his own peak, groaning into her while he finally felt that sweet release wash over him, dulled by the sharp pain shooting up his spine. Still, nothing could ruin this, no pain would ruin the feeling of his wife’s cum all over his face while his own cock twitched and pulsed furiously.

Some of the white ropes laid across her cheek before she wrapped her lips around him once more with a groan and swallowed the rest eagerly. The salty taste spreading over her tongue, fully Oberyn.

Her mind swimming at the sensation and her body boneless.

They remained like this for several moments, his tongue tenderly licking at her once the waves had stopped, noticing the subtle twitch from just how often he had brought her to a peak. Her cheek rested on his muscular, thick thigh, still tracing the veins on his softening cock before clumsily rolling off of him and onto her back.

A breathless laugh left her, taking a moment to close her eyes and take in the warm feeling that simmered in her body, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining.

A soothing gesture, grounding her in reality as she felt like floating in water.

Oberyn sat up slightly, wincing quietly as he took in her face, some of his cum still on her cheek, red and orange dancing across her skin from the curtains and he couldn’t help but smile. More than satisfied with what just happened.

Never would he tire from seeing his wife covered with his cum, the only sight better than this being when it trickled out of her swollen cunt.

“Thank you, my Sun.” He said, his thumb brushing over her fingers soothingly. Almost forgetting about his injuries as he laid here with her. “The copious amounts of medicine you provided me with are already showing their effect.”

She laughed at that, and the sound only helped to mend his bruised body, watching her open her eyes and sit up. Stopping to take in his wet face, the now tired but satisfied eyes along with the smallest curl of his lips.

The sight was something she would never tire of, her core still throbbing. So handsome, with the lines on his face which began to form, the first few silver streaks in his hair and beard.

“I am glad I was of help, my Viper.” She giggled, raising her unoccupied hand to swipe his cum off of her face before sucking it off her finger. “I generously received a little bit of my own medicine. Though, my aches only began after ingesting it.”

Oberyn laughed, loud and hearty as he pointed for her to lay down next to him. Needing to feel her body, though he wished he could bury his face in between her thighs for just a little longer, slower this time and not rushing things.

She shuffled around, bending down to kiss him languidly and tasting herself on his tongue. Then finally laying next to him just how he wanted, pulling the covers over them.

“I think in your case, my sweet,” he began, wrapping his arm around her and ignoring the pain that came with it. Kissing her forehead and just keeping her close. “It is simply that you are ageing.”

A playfully shocked gasp left her, hitting his chest with a quick swat and laughing at the exaggerated grunt he let out. Pretending as though he had been struck by something much worse than his beloved wife’s hand.

“How dare you treat your husband, your Prince, like such when he is in terrible, terrible agony?” Oberyn asked with a laugh, wishing he could crush her against him. “Do you not wish for me to be well, my love?”

She nuzzled against his neck with a giggle, peppering his jaw with kisses as she inhaled his scent. Still smelling like the training pits, earthy and sweaty.

“I wish for my husband to stop the dramatics.” This sweet banter had always been her favourite, laughing and jesting with him like no other. “Become the feared Red Viper everyone knows instead of letting your daughter of eighteen years of age knock you off your feet.”

The grip on her hip tightened and she giggled more when she realized that he could certainly not do as he pleased with her just now. Secretly she loved the dramatics, always worried about him but unable to stop her loud mouth and her teasing.

“Oh, sweet wife…” Oberyn sighed, looking at her. What a funny thing she was, too swift with her dangerous tongue. “Once your mortally wounded husband is healed, there will be a punishment in order.”

He paused for a moment, squeezing her hip harder, delighting in the warm flesh in the palm of his hand.

“A punishment and an apology. Perhaps both could be the same.”

She became excited at the plethora of things he could do, though she was quite certain about what he meant, her clit throbbing in anticipation.

“First you should heal, my love.” She said, entirely genuine, pushing her dirty thoughts aside as her hand brushed over his stomach. Warm and soft, tender and the most perfect place to rest her head on usually. “Please rest, let the medicine I gave you work its wonders.”

He kissed her forehead again, allowing his lips to linger there as he closed his eyes and breathed her in. The scent of oranges filling him, his body melting in her presence.

Surely, there was no sweeter remedy than his wife and her delicious cunt, the sweet relief he found in between her thighs.

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slashersidewhore · 2 years

Text

Thomas Hewitt! Hurting his S/O

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, violence, blood, use of the word “bitch”, hurt/comfort, self loathing, minor angst

Could also be gn!reader, only two gendered terms are bitch and missy

You sat nursing a bloody rag, leaning against the bathroom wall, knees up to your chest as the silence of the house was more suffocating then the usual ruckus. The swell on the back of your head was concerning, although surprisingly it wasn’t the main focus of your thoughts. Hand reaching up to poke the most likely bruising bump, your fingertips grazed along the wound, a small hiss leaving your lips at the contact. You’d probably have to ice it before the pain got worse, maybe you could Luda Mae to assist.

Luda Mae, you’d have had someone else to help you if things didn’t go tits up about 15 minutes ago. It wasn’t unusual for the Hewitt mansion to be lively, especially when Hoyt was around, stirring the pot. Mind whirring at the remembrance, you sunk further into the tiled floor. Nose tucking into the crux of your knees, you sniffle pathetically, rubbing snot on the fabric of your jeans. Everything was going horribly, and it all started with one word.

“Bitch”. The house was silent, everyone pausing their arguments with heavy breathing and strained eyes, faces hot and throats dry. Luda Mae was behind Monty in the corner, hands clasped at the back of his wheelchair the minute the word left Hoyt’s mouth. The sheriff didn’t pay mind to the eyes drilling into the side of his head, far too focused on the woman standing before him.

A victim had nearly escaped, Monty nearly blew his head off with his own shotgun, Luda Mae was pushed by said victim and landed poorly on her ankle, and you just happened to walk down stairs the minute the kettle began to hiss. Hoyt was like a feral animal, snarling at his family members, spitting his words so hard it looked at if the vein in his neck would burst. Then he directed his anger towards Thomas, the sheriffs face bright red with rage as he fired nonstop insults to his nephew. The larger, masked man, although sturdy and much stronger, was very clearly uncomfortable with the situation at hand.

You couldn’t just stand by and let you man you loved take all the heat, he hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, you could blame this entire days incidents on Hoyt himself. Something you were more than willing to do.

“That’s enough, Tommy didn’t do anything wrong. He caught the guy didn’t he?“ It was a simple statement, a rhetorical question and a raised eyebrow, but clearly wrong as the minute Hoyt sucked in a harsh breath, you knew you were next. His wide eyes were quick to snap in your direction, finger raising to point as if you were some kind of cockroach on the wall, spotted and needing to be dealt with. From your peripherals, you could faintly see Thomas tense, shoulders raised, fists clenched at his sides, although he spoke no words, nor moved his body an inch.

“Listen here missy, I don’t need an outsider like yourself running your mouth because,”

“Now stop that!” Luda Mae chastised from the other side of the room. You knew how much she considered you a part of the family, unfortunately right now you felt anything but apart of it. Hoyt didn’t bother turning his her direction, eyes still set like a vulture.

“Shut it!” His words clearly directed towards the older women caused her lips to seal angrily, a hand falling to Monty’s shoulder, “Just because you think you’re one of us, you ain’t, never will be.”

“Just some stuck up tramp who doesn’t wanna be dinner, ain’t that right sweetie?” Although you knew he wouldn’t pull anything physical in front of Thomas, knowing the man’s strength, he underestimated his nephews self control when his came to protecting you. All the masked man could now see was a threat, not his uncle, but some painted red entity getting to close to you for comfort. Fingers twitching for his chainsaw, even though it was perched down in the basement.

“Let’s just drop this.” You weren’t about to back down, but the look in Hoyt eye was anything but pleasing, in fact it made your skin crawl with goosebumps and chills. Thomas’ shoulders relaxed slightly, dark blue eyes trained on your figure. Your answer seemed to allow the atmosphere in the living room to drop considerably, that was until the sheriff decided he could get the last word in.

“That’s what I thought, bitch.” He scoffed, taking a step in your direction close enough it caused you to lean back, face scrunched in disgust. Hoyt went to turn around, most likely to leave the room all together and go do whatever the hell he does in his free time. The man however was stopped by a firm grip on the back of his shirt collar, ripping him across the carpeted floor to the adjacent wall. Air knocking from his lungs as his back slammed in the wallpaper, a hulking shadow loomed over, the hand coming back to plant itself against Hoyts exposed neck. Thomas was nearly new Hoyts out together, that was clear in the was just broad back and shoulders obstructed his uncle, chest heaving this angered breathing that was slightly muffled at the nose of his mask. Frozen in your place, a shrill yelp torn from Luda Mae that broke your trance. If you didn’t stop Thomas, he would kill kill.

Now you didn’t like Hoyt, one bit in fact. You hated the way he treated the people around him, his nephew especially. But knowing Tommy, the guilt may destroy him if he killed his own flesh and blood. Quick steps took you over the the two men, gasping at his blue Hoyts face had become, saliva sliding down his chin, eyes bulging unnaturally. It was horrific, the strength Thomas could produce with just one hand. You had to proceed with caution, Thomas may not be an animal but his emotions acted similar to a frightened caged one. Sudden movements were appreciated, you learned that early into your relationship. You took a gentle approach, placing a soft hand on his shoulder, careful and light so as he could probably feel it. Unfortunately for you he felt it all right, but in his rage filled haze he didn’t register it as a helping hand, rather someone stopping him from protecting you.

It was fast, one minute you were behind your boyfriend and the next you were careening towards the floor. Unluckily for your poor head that landed just at the right angle on the coffee table, the hard wood smacking against your skull with enough force to crack the skin and pool blood. The yelp you released was nothing short of dying as the dizzying pain set in, vision blurring as you slumped slightly towards the floor. Luda Mae was quick to gasp, rushing to your aid as Hoyts loud coughing rang throughout the living room.

Eyes panning up, unfocused but determined, your gaze locked on the lumbering man frozen a few feet away. Squinting, you could somewhat make out the way his blue eyes were as big as saucers, swimming with something you had seen many times before. Luda Mae places a gentle hand on your shoulder, the other going to the back of your head. Thomas shuffled forward an inch, looking like he was about to kneel down and assist. His heavy breathing ongoing, maybe even louder than a few seconds ago having Hoyt pinned to the opposite wall.

“Oh dear.” Luda Mae cooed, hand moving back into your field of vision. Although still struggling to see properly, the red liquid on her fingertips didn’t go unnoticed. Unfortunately, the two of you were the only ones to see it. Thomas halted his movement to help, fingers twitching at his sides began to shake like a leaf, fists clenching and unclenching. Even in this state of mind, you knew when your Tommy wasn’t doing to great, and if you were being honest, you cared more for the man’s health than your own. That’s just what loving someone does.

“Wait Tommy,” You called out, uncharacteristic slur of speech catching you off guard. Before you could even make an effort to reach out to the man, he was storming out of the front door, letting it slam back on the hinges. The noise caused your shoulders to bounce momentarily, feeling a slight burn behind your eyes as your face grew red. Leaning into Luda Mae, you I tried to ignore the throbbing as she applied some pressure, letting a few tears spill over your cheeks.

A soft knocking on the bathroom door caught you off guard, eyes snapping up and mind leaving the sudden influx of thought you’d had. It was silent for a brief minute, not knowing if you should open the door or ask who it is. Another gentle rap of the knuckles hit the wooden door, this time urging you to rise to your feet. Although there was still a slight sway to your step, you could manage walking across the tiled floor.

“I’m fine Luda Mae, just cleaning up some of the blood.” There was silence after your words, pausing wind your palm on the handle door. After the short pause, there was another knock, this time gentler, trying to convey a message through the wood alone. Eyes widening the slightest, you pulled the door inward, ignoring the loud creak from the worn hinges. Your eyes immediately landed on a sturdy chest, covered by a partial dirty apron, the button up below the same if not a murkier color. Head tilting up to meet the dark, leather mask of your favorite hidden face, finally you were looking into the gaze of the man you loved.

His dark blue eyes were clouded, heavy and clearly exhausted from the last few hours, if not also the life he’s lead. Your heart took the lead, arms wrapping around his neck to anchor your body to his much larger one. Face falling to the plush of his firm chest, you allowed yourself to relax. Warmth filled your chest as a large palm planted against the middle of your spine, the other reaching up to gently caress the back of your head.

“You didn’t mean to, ya know? Hoyt was being a real jerk,” You leaned back into his light touch, watching the slight shift in his eyes as they landed on your wound. To be honest, Thomas hasn’t felt this awful in awhile, a long while. He always felt horrible about what he had to do for his family, under Hoyts control and abusive watch. He knew it wasn’t right, against his morals and who he really was. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve lost himself long ago. Although this, hurting you like this, maybe he’d lose you forever, “I love you Tommy.”

He glanced back into your eyes, brows furrowed and mouth in a straight line as you could see through the dark, leather mask. The rough material pressed into your forehead as he leaned forward, still holding you close. The sudo kiss allowed your eyes to comfortably close, smiling lightly as a rough, untrained voice broke the silence of the hallway.

“I love you too.”

Requests are open! Inbox or messages

I write smut, angst, and fluff

Blurbs, HC, and short stories

#slasher #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfic

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

contents/warnings: bau!reader, christmas in november because i'm impatient

There's icing on your nose. You can see it if you cross your eyes, but your hands are too occupied to brush it off.

They fumble with a piping bag, trying to squeeze air out of the top while squeezing icing out of the bottom. The formerly white frosting has a black tint now, and if it lands on your cookie, the stain will be permanent.

You trace the shape of a suitcoat, tongue sticking out of your mouth as you leave enough room for a button-up. The pants are equally as simple, two rectangles merged in the middle.

"Whatcha makin'?" Penelope leans over your shoulder to peer at your gingerbread man. You glance over at her christmas tree, decked out with green swoops of icing and light-shaped sprinkles.

"It's a surprise," You mumble, still lost in thought as you search for the white icing, "Has anyone seen-?"

It's in Derek's hands. He's making an angel cookie, halo already wound around her head. It's for Penelope, you're sure.

"Morgan?" You peer up at him with shiny, pleading eyes, "Can I steal that? Just for a second."

"Snow for your tree?" He guesses, as your hand covers the shape and design of your cookie.

"Nope!" You grin mischievously at him, "You'll see."

"I love a good surprise," He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he hands over the piping bag with a smear of the frosting on his thumb. You're surprised he doesn't ask Penelope to lick it off, and you're even more surprised that she doesn't offer.

"That had better be good," Prentiss peers at your hidden cookie, what little she can see of it from how you're hiding it, "'Cause you used up all the black icing."

"More on the way," Rossi reaches for the big bowl of white, food coloring already in-hand, "Does anything else need a refill?"

"Red," Spencer hums from where he's surveying your cookie-decoration, gingerbread crumbs stuck to his fingers, "It's empty."

Your head shoots up to glance at the flattened red piping bag, the next one you would have asked for. Something akin to annoyance prickles in your chest at the inconvenience, but Rossi's already whipping up another batch, and JJ's santa cookie does look good.

You're happy to have Rossi on kitchen duty for many reasons. He's efficient at filling each bag when you need it, and he's too busy to complain about the mess you're making of his kitchen. When the red bag is set back on the table, plump and slightly sticky, you set down the white one, dress shirt in place.

Now for the tie, a dot at the neckline and a line down the shirt. You realize too late that you've already sacrificed the black piping bag to Emily, leaving your cookie faceless, but when she spots your eyes on it she hands it over with a kind smile.

The finishing touches are a line of hair over the top, two eyes, and a frown. You think, as you glance stealthily at Hotch, who's nursing a water and listening to Reid's explanation of the evolution of Christmas, that it looks uncanny.

"Done." You huff proudly, pushing your seat away from the table. Everyone's eyes flit towards you, although it takes Spencer a minute to finish his sentence.

"Let's see, kiddo," Rossi raises his brows expectantly, waiting for you to uncover the cookie you've been crafting.

With one swoop it's out from behind your hands, displayed proudly between your fingers as everyone peers at it.

"It's Hotch." You grin proudly, "Frown and all."

The first person to laugh is Derek. He throws his head back slightly, glancing back at Rossi when the man snorts. Penelope lets out a sharp ooh!, but covers her mouth with her hand so that her giggles are stifled. Emily and JJ share an incredulous laugh, still decorating their own cookies, icing bags frozen in their hands.

Reid squints intently at it, amusement twinkling in his eyes, "That's pretty accurate, Y/L/N."

"Actually, I think his frown is usually deeper," Rossi chuckles, "But the tie is spot on."

You've been so caught up in everyone's instant reactions that you realize you haven't glanced at Hotch himself yet, and your breath catches in your throat. Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't have joked about it.

But when you see his face, it's mangled into a barely-withheld smile, his teeth digging into his lips to keep it at bay. He knows if he reacts you'll only be egged on, but it's hard not to chuckle at the teasing.

"No," He finally pipes up, "My ties are straighter than that." His eyes are narrowed and softened as he razzes you back, and you can feel a weight fly off of your shoulders at his good-natured response. His eyes linger on the cookie a moment longer, then flit up towards your face. Everyone's going back to their own work now, and Spencer's starting up his spiel again. You hold eye contact with Hotch for only seconds more, but it's long enough for him to let his smile appear, twisting up the corners of his mouth. You duck your head before you can blush, and reach for a napkin.

Off goes the frown, on goes a smile.

You drop the newly-grinning cookie off in front of him when you refill your water, slipping it onto the counter in front of him while Reid rambles. He doesn't have time to thank you amidst a fact about old religion, but the christmas card he sends you only two days later contains his gratitude.

Jack liked the cookie you made of me, he says you should be an artist. I think so, too, the BAU's personal cookie decorator. Have a wonderful holiday season, Y/N, and I'll see you at Penelope's New Year's party.

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jhuzen · 1 year

Text

a bath and a contract [m.reader]

just the inherent homoeroticism of discussing your contract with the god that presides over it while he watches you bathe

“Morax, it’s high time that we terminate this contract, do you not think so?”

Suddenly, the tea that Zhongli has been consuming felt relatively weak in taste as your words caught him off guard. His movements halted just as he was about to take a sip from the cup of tea that he nursed since your meeting.

Just like that, the night seemed colder and the moon that peered through the passing clouds became dimmer. He gripped the handle of his teacup at your sudden proposition, yet he refused to give into this damning suggestion of yours.

His golden eyes trained towards your form, unclothed, as you continued to float through the shallow waters of some random pond in the vast land that he ruled over. It was a place you often favored bathing in when Cloud Retainer opted shoo you away from her private sanctuary.

He watched as you gently caressed yourself after you cupped a water into your hand, his eyes never leaving the way the droplets of water ran from your chest down to your toned abdomen, joining back where it belonged as it dripped down to the rippling fresh waters. You were molded to your creator’s liking, as you said and you were simply breathtaking to him.

This became a frequent occurrence upon your descent. You were someone not of this world, you told him outright upon the moment he let you in his humble abode to also take a bath, as that was your preferred activity. But you expressed your love to be with the nature when you do so, resulting into this arrangement.

You would venture out until you find the perfect body of water to cater into your self-caring needs. You demanded the best and for some reason, the former archon bent and caved into your wishes in his years of reigning. Zhongli as Morax all those years ago felt compelled to join you in your little search. And at the present, every time you would dip yourself into these bodies of water, despite no longer being Morax himself, he could feel you here, in his land.

It felt like a gentle caress that went through the blood in his veins.

The search went on for a good while until you ended up in this favored spot. Somewhere entirely remote (save for the light hisses of monsters you could hear getting lost in the wind), and when he was not busy back when he was Liyue’s god and now as a mere consultant, Zhongli would join you.

At first, all those centuries ago, he merely was around to keep an eye on you — you were after all someone who’s akin to a stranger, not just to him, but to the entirety of his world. That, and Guizhong urged him to take part into your activities (she told him she loved spending time with you, and so desperately wanted to never come back into her responsibilities when you do so with her).

And then it became more than that. With a contract that you signed with your blood, you were bound to him until it is terminated by either of you.

“Morax,” you softly croon and he was quick to pull himself out of his stunned trance. “Did you hear what I said?”

Of course he did. He was only questioning how you were able to even gain the audacity to propose such a thing. It was a horrendous thought to entertain and while you were a man of many… incredulous suggestions that he so often took, this one, he cannot honor.

You were bound to him. You sealed a contract with your blood, something you said you did back in your homeland. You wounded yourself for him and asked nothing of return. He was the one to propose your arrangement and all he did was abide by your customs in honor of showing respect to your traditions.

The day he lost his many comrades, the day he lost his dear friend, the ever so benevolent Guizhong to that horrific war, you were there. You did not fight as this wasn’t your world to begin with, but you offered him comfort, enticing him day by day to make the choice and keep you by his side through his own terms as the god of contracts.

And you obliged with a smile, so carefree, like you also didn’t lose Guizhong and the many other gods you managed to befriend back then.

After all these years, with Liyue being in a much more prosperous era as the humanity he oversaw flourished, now that you and him rested easy, you wanted to break the contract?

Why?

He couldn’t control the way his eyebrows deeply furrowed as he chose his response carefully. Zhongli was perturbed, obviously, why would you even bring it up now? Was it… was it because of an outlander’s exploits?

The traveler that saved Liyue was not of this world too. Did perhaps, the traveler invoke feelings within you that prompted you to want to go home? Is that it? But you’ve been by his side for so long now and helped him rebuild Liyue into an even better nation with your own inputs. You’ve been around for so long that it didn’t feel as though you were an outlander.

Zhongli was even confident enough to say that he forgot you weren’t from Teyvat, that you weren’t some Liyue citizen that he happened to meet.

“Do you have any problems with our contract?” He asked, and he noticed it was barely audible. But you heard. You always do. You hear his quiet scoffs, you see his subtle jaw-clenching, you feel him just as much as he feels you.

“Hm? Not at all.” You walked nearer to where he sat, just a few meters away from the pond, sat in a blanket with all his teacups. You stopped as the water went to your waist, just enough to cover you from the waist down. You relished in his stare, suddenly meek and muted.

Both you and him knew how much he loved watching you bathe. It was something so intimate that you only had for yourself and he was mesmerized by the way you cared so much for yourself, it was a love so palpable, even he couldn’t help but envy the you that you cared so much for.

“Then why do you propose such an idea?”

You tilted your head as a huff of laughter escaped you, “Because I believe our contract all those centuries ago requires that I am to be with you until your dying days.”

The way your skin glistened against the moonlight was invigorating in Zhongli’s eyes.

“As far as I am concerned, Morax is no longer alive.”

Your words however, were not singing melodies in his ears.

“And yet you call me with the name of a dead archon,” your laughter echoed at Zhongli’s statement. He was always so genuine and serious that hearing him speak in such a coy tone is nothing short of amusing. “Though do tell, [Name]. Why do you insist on breaking the contract?”

Your smile didn’t waver as you ran your fingers through the clear water. Why did you even bother trying to cover yourself from the waist down when you already knew Zhongli could see all of you with just how clear the water is?

“I believe it has something to do with the relief I see in your face, Zhongli.” So now you refused to call him Morax… Zhongli could not be more disturbed. Does that mean you’re finally rejecting the version of him that you made a contract with?

“Would you care to elaborate?”

You looked up and met his golden eyes, shining with curiosity. “Much after my beloved fellow outlander’s achievements in Liyue, I’ve seen something I have not seen in your eyes before — the raw feelings of utter bliss and relief… you’ve always revered the people of your land, but even before you ‘passed’ I could see the uncertainty within you. But now, you are confident.”

Zhongli found himself tearing his eyes away from the gaze you held and maintained, “So now you wish to put unease within me by terminating the contract?”

The laugh you belted out could’ve woken any nearby living being, but Zhongli was much too overcome with negativity. Were you toying with him? Or were you truly hoping to pull away from him?

“Zhongli, my contract with Morax stipulates that I am to be by his side until the day he dies. More than that, other than his death, my contract is only then fulfilled when I see for myself that Morax no longer needs me.” Still with an intact smile, you presented your argument. “And I see it, clear as the skies, that you can finally be on your own. I believe I’ve realized that the day you died.”

He took offense to that — is that how you see it? That he can be on his own now?

Did you even consider that perhaps he wanted to be selfish for once and gave up his role as Liyue’s archon, so that he may live with you without the aching responsibilities of one? He wanted to spend his days like you do — merely enjoying the wonders of life, and he wanted to do it with you. To traverse the world without worrying so much about his people, like you didn’t worry about your troubles.

He wanted to live the life you were living with you and only you.

He placed his teacup down and heaved a sigh, brooding and low before raising his head to meet your eyes that never left him, “If that is what you wish… then I suppose terminating the contract won’t cause an offense that warrants divine punishment.”

Your chortle tells him a lot — that you know he doesn’t have the heart to do that to you either despite being the god of contracts himself.

A golden aura wafted through Zhongli’s fingers and soon appeared a rock, resistant through the weathering and erosion. You could see your blood into it, smeared and dried. It was not a contract of paper as that wasn’t exactly how you did things back in your homeland. The one to propose the contract is to provide an object of importance to them while the one to agree seals it with their blood.

Zhongli’s frown was evident as he looked at the rock in his hand. It withstood every natural phenomenon and stayed as it is the day you and him made your contract. Only for several centuries to come for it to be crushed… much like these blooming feelings of his.

“Do you have any objections to this termination, [Name]?”

“It would be foolish of me to even have one.” You laughed, completely humored at the thought of being the one to object to your own proposal. “Do you?”

He desperately wanted to say yes, that it was not alright. But the terms of your contract were clear and concise. It ends when he dies, or when it becomes clear that you’re no longer needed by Morax’s side. And he needed you, but he was no longer Morax, he was just Zhongli from that point on. He couldn’t exactly violate it, and so he shook his head.

Easily with his strength, he crushed the rock in his hands, watching it crumble into nothing but smaller pieces and dust.

Zhongli couldn’t even fathom the nudging ache in his chest when he saw the way your eyes lit up in delight upon the termination. But he couldn’t look away when you finally rose from the water. Suddenly, this intimate moment dissipated into nothing but a sorrowful meeting.

He could no longer watch and enjoy the sight of you when you came up to him, completely lacking of any clothing.

And yet he easily caved when you pulled him up to stand. He looked at anywhere but you, opting to stare somewhere distant over your shoulder.

“Now that I am granted my freedom, under the guidance of the long gone god of contracts, I hope to form another contract with a man going by the name Zhongli.”

Zhongli blinked owlishly as he finally looked at you. Surprise overtook his features as his eyes raked into the cheeky grin plastered on your face, “How… do you mean?” Suddenly, he was breathless and he could hear the thumping of his heart.

“To this I offer nothing but my being to this apparent… mortal man. I, [Name], propose to this man an endless life of nothing but venture and care. ” He almost laughed when you looked up at the stars, “May the blessings of Rex Lapis reach us and hope that an agreement to this proposal will be reached. ” You said, as if you really were asking from the god of contracts.

The former archon didn’t even notice when he gave a wet laugh at your actions.

“Tears aren’t blood, dear, but I suppose to this, I can accept it as a way of sealing this contract.” You murmur softly before brushing away some of the tears that threatened to come out of his eyes. And by gods, he hasn’t cried in eons.

Zhongli’s mind was at peace. The moonlight obstructed by your form was much like the way these tender feelings of his overshadowed the grief he knew he was about to experience when you terminated the contract with him… or rather, Morax.

“Rex Lapis would frown upon you, weary outlander… making contracts without so much as dressing up for the occasion.”

“I should hope he overlooks this measly outlander’s mistake then.”

And he would, after all, how could he refuse the terms you’ve set upon this new contract?

#genshin impact x male reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x gn!reader #genshin impact x gn reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month

Text

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 5

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

2 weeks later.... Friday

Eli: There’s a refresher and a donut waiting for u at the L&D desk ms I don’t like coffee.

Kiyana rolled her eyes with a grin as she texted Eli back. Josh narrowed his eyes as he watched Kiyana smile down at her phone. He tried to ignore it but when she started to actually giggle at the fucking phone he snuck around the kitchen counter and tried to get a peek at who she was texting but she caught on and quickly locked her phone and set down on the counter.

“You need something?” She asked, rolling her eyes when his eyes glanced down at her phone. “You got anything planned today or yall just gonna chill?” She asked, grabbing her lunch out of the fridge. When she turned back around he had her phone in his hands.“HEY!” She called out, snatching her phone out of his hands. “What are you doing?”

“You changed your password?” She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why were you trying to go through my phone? We are div-”

“Divorced. Yeah you keep bringing it up.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag.

“I get off at 9. Will y’all be good until then?” Josh nodded, his jaw was clenched tight as he kept thinking about how Kiyana changed her password to her phone. Kiyana rolled her eyes at his attitude before walking out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

“I love you!” She called out to the boys and Josh heard them call it back before the front door slammed shut.

“Love you too.” He muttered before going to join his sons in the living room.

“So you at Dr. Daniels seem to be getting close.” Debra , the senior nurse stated as she eyed the drink in Kiyana’s hand. Kiyana shrugged

“He’s cool.”

“Cool enough to be talking about asking you on a date.” Debra said, smirking when Kiyana snapped her head towards her.

“No, we’re just friends.” Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt. Her inner voice said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “Honey, I helped deliver Elijah forty-something years ago and that man still doesn't bring me coffee everyday.” Kiyana bit her lip and looked down the hall to where Eli was talking with another nurse. “Look, I know you just got divorced but shit, take the chance. You don’t have to fall in love with him.” Kiyanna sighed and shook her head, it was way too soon for her to even think about going on a date with another man. Her divorce was still fresh, like an open wound.

“ I think Key already talking to somebody else.” Josh blurted out as he, Trinity and Jon sat in their backyard, keeping a close eye on his two older boys who were swimming. He had put Kairo down for a nap.

“Well you were fucking someone else while y’all were married so who cares.” Trin said, smacking Jon on his shoulder when he elbowed her in her ribs. “I mean what did you expect? Kiyana is very attractive and now she’s single.” Trin shrugged.

“Don’t kick the man while he’s down Trin.”

“Yeah, damn Trinity. I thought we were better than that.” Josh tried to joke but Trinity was still very pissed off at him. “I know I fucked up. But it’s only been two weeks.”

“How long is she supposed to wait? Until you’re ready for her to move on?” Trin rolled her eyes. “Leave that woman alone. Her life is no longer a concern of yours..” Josh didn’t say anything as he brought his attention back to his sons. How was I supposed to get her back if she’s moved on already?

“Fuck him” Shanté muttered. “Fuck him and his stupid mullet. It’s 2024, the eighties called, they want their hairstyle back.” She said giggling at her own joke. Nikkita rolled her eyes from where she was sitting on their couch.

“Tae, I been told you to stop messing with that man, She might've divorced him but he still loves her. You can’t compete with that.” Shanté flipped off her best friend and took another swig from the wine bottle they were passing back and forth.

“He told me he never wanted to be with me, Nikki.” Nikkita didn’t respond back because.. Duh. It was pretty obvious. Josh only hit Shanté up after the RAW tappings on Monday’s and as soon as he would fly back home to Pensacola he would block her, then start the cycle all over again the next Monday. Nikkita felt bad for her friend but she had also warned her the first time Shanté had told her she hooked up with Josh.

Kiyana was Josh’s high school sweetheart and from experience, Nikkita knew that Shanté never stood a chance.

Kiyana let out a sigh of relief as she clocked out for the day. She can finally go home and be with her boys for 3 whole days. Just as she was about to walk out the front door she heard her name being called. She turned and smiled once she saw it was Elijah.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” He said back slightly out of breath. “I ran all the way down here. Though I missed you.” He smiled at her.

“You just caught me.” She said, feeling herself blush under the heat of his stare. “Wassup?”

“I wanna take you out tomorrow night.” Kiyana blinked. “If it's too soon. I apologize, but I really like you Kiyana.” She clutched her purse strap tighter as she felt the butterflies in her tummy start to rumble around. Kiyana only got that feeling with one man before and she had just divorced him two weeks ago.

Elijah sighed as she just stared at him. “It’s too soon isn’t it?” Kiyana quickly broke out of her stupor and shook her head.

“No,” She cleared her throat. “ I would love to go out with you”

“Yeah?” Eli asked. “Bet, do you have a babysitter for tomorrow?” Kiyana nodded. “Okay, tomorrow at 8. Text me your address.”

Kiyana bit her lip as she watched him run back into the hospital, the butterflies more intense as she thought about their date tomorrow night. She let out a groan and let her head fall back, looking towards the sky. She was so fucking screwed.

Kiyana got her first date since the divorce.. Josh about to be soooooooooooooooooooooooooo fucking petty 😭, y'all just don't understand.

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esoteric-oracle · 10 months

Text

On Life debts in MDZS

Recently finished watching Anle Zhuan, and holy crap, it really just sets even more into perspective how important life debts were in Chinese culture, especially in the days of dynasties. Long story short, the FL has a filial obligation to clear her family's name and exact vengeance on the ML's family - but you know what throws a wrench in her plans? The fact that the ML keeps saving her. Of course, this is a moral dilemma more easily offset by how she keeps saving him as well, but the fact that this is even worth mentioning and considered a serious quandary by the main character and her allies at one point really says something. And it got me thinking deeper about the implications of such life debts in MDZS.

In MDZS, life debts are immeasurably important. And how you honour that life debt is a measure of your character. When you owe someone a life debt, you owe them something immeasurably precious. In MDZS, MXTX knows that and shows it. She uses life debts to tie characters together and to drive the plot.

Life debts are the reason Wei Wuxian feels so duty-bound to the Jiang Sect and the Jiang family. They're the reason he's willing to lose an arm if it means no damage comes to his sect. They're the reason he tolerates being punished with methods beyond what's ever acceptable for a Head Disciple of a Sect. Because Jiang Fengmian saved him from living a life on the streets all those years ago, never mind that JFM himself owed Wei Wuxian's mother a life debt.

Life debts are the reason Wen Zhuliu is so blindly loyal to Wen Ruohan, committing countless atrocities in the name of the man who saved his life.

Life debts (and perhaps also genuine love), are why Jin Guangyao is so loyal to Lan Xichen. Because despite every other moral he eschews in his pursuit of power, he will always remember the sincere kindness Lan Xichen showed him when every other cultivator judged him for his heritage. And in the same way, we see Lan Xichen protecting him from Nie Mingjue under the excuse that Lan Xichen owes his life to Jin Guangyao.

Now let's talk about when life debts come into conflict with "filial duty".

It always irks me when people bring up family and filial duty to criticize WWX's "betrayal" of his sect, or try to undermine his judgement and actions when he protected the Wen Remnants. To me, it just shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the novel and the context around the text. When people call Wei Wuxian a "troublemaker" for leaving the Jiang Sect, they're falling prey to the very prejudices and classism MXTX condemned in the novel. Yes, the Wens burned down Lotus Pier. Yes, the remaining Jiang Sect would've had an obligation to go to war and exterminate the Wens. But you know what brings this duty to avenge your sect to question - in almost every way you look at it? When someone who never even participated in the bloodshed saves your life.

So, if we want to talk about filial duty and reciprocation - Jiang Cheng - and by extension, his sect, owes Wen Qing and Wen Ning a massive life debt (and that's not even considering the GC transfer). Even if we ignore the cultural context regarding debts, that's huge. Let's take a step back and look at what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng owe the Wens.

The initial life debt. Wen Ning saves Jiang Cheng directly from probable execution (like his parents), as well as hides Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng from the Wen soldiers in his own room. In doing this, Wen Ning has already crossed the line of treason towards his own sect. Keep in mind - Wen Ruohan is his uncle. And here he is, risking his life to save two boys - only one of whom he's actually had any meaningful interaction with.

The days after. Both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are heavily wounded, the former from his whipping via Zidian + wounds sustained during the battle, the latter from Wen Chao's torture. In the days following, Wen Qing nurses both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian - enemies of her clan - back to health.

The debt Jiang Cheng owes further. People need a proper send-off in order to ensure their passage to Diyu, or the Underworld - and that could only be done for JFM and YZY because WN risked his life even further to bring back the personal items (and in some adaptations, their bodies) of Jiang Cheng's parents. In simple terms, Jiang Cheng wouldn't even have Zidian if not for Wen Ning.

The golden core transfer. There are two separate components to this. The first is limited - from Jiang Cheng's perspective.

Here's what JC knows: 1. He has no core, but there is a chance he can have his core restored by Baoshan Sanren. 2. The only way Baoshan Sanren would ever agree to this is if he impersonated Wei Wuxian, the son of her beloved disciple. 3. Jiang Cheng is a sect heir; he grew up wealthy, in relative comfort. He's at the top of the food chain. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, is an orphan. He grew up being demeaned for his heritage. In truth, he inherited nothing from his parents. But what Jiang Cheng knows is that Wei Wuxian did have an inheritance: one precious thing, the location of an immortal. And then he gives that favour-his entire inheritance-to Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian, at this moment, essentially hands over everything he has left of his dead parents (who Madam Yu has slandered for his entire life) to Jiang Cheng.

From Wei Wuxian's perspective, the debt is this: his close friend and heir to the Jiang Clan has no core. He believes that Jiang Cheng needs his core - as he's been displaying suicidal tendencies after losing his. However, Wen Qing has a theoretical thesis on golden core transfers. This surgery has a 50% chance of success. To the knowledge of everyone involved, Jiang Cheng consented to getting his core back by whatever means necessary. He explicitly never questioned how Baoshan Sanren would restore his golden core. Anonymous organ donors are known to be a thing, even by modern medical standards. And WWX stays awake for two nights and a day without any anesthesia as Wen Qing cuts into his body and takes something he has spent over half of his lifetime cultivating, to give to Jiang Cheng.

"He had to be awake. He had to watch the golden core connected to his spiritual pathways be peeled from his body. He had to feel the gradual suppression, sedation, settlement of his originally surging spiritual powers, all until they became a pool of dead water, unable to rise ever again."

There's definitely also a case to make about Jiang Cheng essentially sacrificing himself to lead the guards away from Wei Wuxian, but you could also argue that Wei Wuxian saved his life just a chapter earlier by dragging him away from Lotus Pier when he returned. Also, it's got nothing to do with the Wen Sibs, towards whom they both owe debts.

By this time, Wen Qing and Wen Ning have already gone above and beyond to help the Jiangs and WWX. Saving the life of the sect heir is one thing, but to perform a never-before-done borderline heretical act of surgery to restore the heir's golden core? Another thing entirely.

The moral obligation of the Jiangs and Wei Wuxian to avenge their sect by killing the Wens does come into conflict with the debts they owe the Wen siblings. But compared to slaughtering Wen Chao, and the Wen soldiers during the Sun, how far does honouring filial duty by exacting vengeance on the Wen Sect go? Wen Qing herself declares she and her brother separate from Wen Ruohan. They're healers. They don't take lives.

From every depiction in Chinese media and culture, life debts are not to be taken lightly. A life debt is meant to be honoured and repaid. It's not something any half-decent person would mention maybe briefly in a Discussion Conference and then immediately shut up about and never mention again when someone louder (*cough*NMJ) speaks up. By turning his back on Wen Qing and Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng had demonstrated a significant moral failure as well as a misunderstanding of his own sect's motto. Along with his personal reasons, Wei Wuxian has every reason to protect the Wen Remnants.

So why, people ask, is Wei Wuxian so hellbent on protecting Wen Ning, Wen Qing, and the rest of the Wen Remnants? The easiest answer: he's a good person. He's compassionate, kind-hearted, empathetic to a fault; he isn't the type of person to stand by and watch if innocents and the helpless starve or suffer. He saw and recognized that what the Jins were doing to the prisoners of war was wrong, and chose to interfere. The other answer? He owes them a debt. He owes Wen Qing and Wen Ning a debt the rest of the Jiangs don't even know about. You want to discuss it in simple terms? Wen Ning is the only reason the Jiang Sect still stands. Wen Qing is the only reason the Jiang Sect has a cultivator for a leader by the end of MDZS. She committed the equivalence of cultivation heresy to save Jiang Cheng because Wei Wuxian begged her. WWX defending her family in return is…. Really the least he could do.

I've seen people calling the Wen Remnants war criminals, even equating them to the mafia, and I can't help but think - what book were those people even reading? if you're not willing to consider the culture and values or just use basic critical thinking when consuming a piece of media - don't try to slander the actions of its characters. Anyone who read the novel and understood the intended themes would not, in good faith, condemn Wei Wuxian's decision to protect the Wen Remnants.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #life debt #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #golden core transfer #wen qing #wen ning #anle zhuan

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itsgrimeytime · 7 months

Text

The Nurse (Part Fourteen) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14...

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @hopefulatrocity @fuseburner @idkseraphine @emo-potato-virgil @mcuclintasha @8crazy-freak8 @peepeepoopoobutt @crazyunsexycool @alixxhere @allthetroubleiveseen @dxrkymxrchy @taylormarieee @maackiimoo

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You’d always wondered where he’d ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: mentions of death, survival instinct, injury pain, gun violence (just violence in general), gunshot wounds, swearing, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: I just thought he looked pretty here tbh. So, that's my reasoning. Hope you enjoy lovelies !! Thanks for reading !!!]]

Something was bothering you, you laid in your bed at night -staring up at the ceiling like it would help you eventually get to sleep. It didn't, nothing did.

You were up and walking before you could think any different, feet dragging along the concrete, as you stepped outside -eyes a wonder as you peered out into what you recognized to be the early mornings.

You remembered why, as you sat out there -chill making goosebumps all along your arms, why you knew such an arbitrary feeling.

It was after your first ever shift as a nurse, you'd been on trauma which was packed full almost every hour. You didn't have a break until 2 am the next day, and when you finally left the third day, it was early.

You spun around in a circle, breathing in the fresh air like it was water and you were in the desert. It kinda felt like that. Your friend, you couldn't remember their name now, had laughed and joined you.

"Freedom!" you yelled out, and took a big swig of your coffee -more of a habit at this point.

"How much coffee have you had?" she asked, swinging the keys around her fingers, eyebrows furrowed.

"Too much," you answered and got into the car.

You sighed, rubbing your arms up and down your sides -the chill of the night was strong then. It was something you felt comfortable with, even despite your lack of sleep -you knew these mornings. They were familiar.

Your eyes landed along the fence, watching the walkers -a few of them seemed to sense you, even from far away. Head tilted, skin decomposed, jaw thrashing you merely looked, eyes lashing along the skin. There was something in you merely disgusted that you were used to them, used to it all.

You remembered the first time you'd ever seen one, scared and curious all in one. And the second, the fear, the grief, the loss-

And then they were everywhere. Everywhere you looked.

"Hey."

You startled in place, something shocked in your bones, and you matched his eyes. It was Rick, wondrously tired Rick with a heavy sort of look in his blue eyes, curls a bit off, and voice a grumble in his throat.

"Hey," you finally responded, tightening your arms over your sides -the chill shaking through your bones, "-you okay?"

"'Could ask you the same," he echoed trailing near you for a second, eyes lingering on your arms -where you rubbed absentmindedly, "-Ya cold?"

"You're not?" you laughed, slightly.

"'Can fix it," he muttered, slowly -sleep slurred and something in your heart warmed, "-C'mere."

You moved to him, and he, with ease, wrapped around your back -strong arms meeting around your waist and head nudged on top of your own. He pressed a simple kiss to the top of your head, rubbing into your hair with his chin -sleepily.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better," you hummed, gathering your arms onto his, "-always better."

"What are ya doin' up?"

"Can't sleep," you answered, dancing with his sort of gentle sway, "-I just... Every time I close my eyes, I see..."

You fell silent, you didn't need to finish it. He knew.

"Y'er not there anymore," he hummed, pushing his lips to kiss your head again -tightening his arms just slightly, "-I'll do whatever you need for me to prove it to ya."

"I know I am," you sighed into the press of his lips, "-I just keep thinking that he might... that he might come back."

"If he does," Rick echoed, something cold and distant, "-you're not alone. I won't let 'im touch ya, or anyone."

"Rick, you can't-" you started, turning towards him in your grip, "-you can't promise that."

He looked at you for a foggy moment, soft eyes bubbling over your skin, a gentle sort of gaze fuzzy -something flashed in his eyes, "You think he's really coming back, don't ya?"

He could read you like a book, you couldn't sleep -all you could think about was him coming back and taking what he would've earlier. If you hadn't stepped up, what he would've taken, all the lives-

Something in your stomach twisted.

"He's not finished here," you echoed, a little lost, "-I just. I know he isn't and I'm..." Scared, your brain finished.

He'd take you first, you just knew it. Kill you in front of everybody or make you watch, it was personal. So, so personal.

"Stop thinkin' too hard," he hummed, using his hands to wipe away the creases along your eyebrows, "-I can see it."

"I can't," you frowned, "-I can't get it out of my head."

He frowned for a moment, before leaning forward, kissing your cheeks with languid little movements -eyes piercing over your face.

"I wish I could make ya feel better," he spoke genuinely, in the low timber of the early morning, "-I wish so badly I could help you. Take it all away."

"Rick," you breathed out, smiley, "-whatever you're doing it's not working."

"Sure 'bout that?" He asked, kissing over your pulse -racing in your chest, he certainly could feel it, "'Cause I think it's helpin'."

You laughed, moving your chin to give him more access -eager to feel the burn of the stubble on your skin. Anywhere. It's like you remember him for every second he wasn't there -wonderful sort of buzz, "Can't argue with that one, Sheriff."

He laughed, a light press of his lips to your jaw, "Look at me, darlin'."

And so, you did.

Rick held your chin with his hand -gentle with calloused fingertips, "I won't let 'im hurt you."

"Rick..." you echoed.

"No, I," he spoke, cradling your face, "-I need ya to know. I know you said you can't let me, but you have to know that I can't let you."

"Let me what?"

"Do it again," he hummed, something far off and distant, "-ya can't do it again. Sacrifice yourself, I won't- Look, I can't."

You frowned, cradling your fingertips under his cheekbones, "I'm right here."

"I know," he grumbled, "-I know."

You took your hands to trail over his skin dusting along the stubble, holding his face in your hands -you spoke what you felt, "I love you."

"I love you too," he echoed, soft and slow -you watched the words rumble out of his lips, "-so much."

"So much," you smiled, leaning your head forward onto his shoulder -warmth taking over your skin, you distantly wished you could stay here forever. You yawned into his skin, and you knew he felt it.

"C'mon, darlin'," he pulled you back but didn't let go of your hand -intertwining your fingers, "-let's go to bed."

"I can't," you resisted, "-I can't sleep without the-"

"You're not goin' alone," he hummed, "-come lay with me."

You laughed, a bit in disbelief, "In the prison bed?"

"Yeah," he smiled, pulling you further, "-'m sure we can both fit. Not like I want ya too far anyway."

You laughed harder, "Whatever you say, cowboy. I'm not gonna complain-"

"Good," he grumbled out and guided you back inside.

The peace was good while it lasted...

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 6 months

Text

In Love, in War Pt. 4 | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary | Thomas Shelby is heading back to his unit at the front with one more wound to soothe. They hated each other and then they loved each other but its understandable that things can change rapidly under such disastrous conditions. What can their love withstand?

Warnings | Death, Gore, Blood, and severe injuries.

Come Tomorrow- Peter Bradley Adams 🎵

Bullet With Butterfly Wings- The Smashing Pumpkins 🎶

Word count: 1713k

Not proof read- my b, folks!

“Wake up, nurse.” She heard him whisper against her ear. She stretched and breathed in Thomas’ dark, heavy scent. When she opened her eyes, the tent was full of light, breaking in through the slits in the canvas. He was dressed and had her clothes in his hands.

“Are we leaving now?” She asked sleepily and he nodded.

“I have to get back to the infirmary before they mark me down as a deserter.”

She sat up and let him button her blouse and fix her black stockings before he pulled on her skirt. He buckled her shoes while she combed her fingers through her hair and tied the warm shawl around her head. Thomas pulled a curl out from under the shawl and kissed her softly.

“Let’s go.” He pulled her to her feet and they left the tent, hand in hand, hurrying back to the infirmary before the shifts switched. The nurse in the infirmary had fallen asleep and didn’t notice when Thomas snuck back in, sticky with sweat from the night before.

“I leave at 2 o’clock. Will I see you?” He asked quickly from his bed.

“I’ll come to say goodbye, I promise.” She smiled and kissed him again. Pulling away from him, she left the tent and went back into her’s, careful to not wake any of her roommates. She washed her face and returned her cap to her head and her apron around her uniform. In the mirror she saw a happy woman, a woman in-love. She blushed at her own reflection and left once again to prepare for her shift in the hospital tent.

The morning was wet and arid, pushing and pulling clouds of fog along the campsite. She washed her hands, scrubbing soap beneath her fingernails and along the curvature of her wrist bone. She followed one of the doctors like his shadow and helped as he removed a dented bronze bullet from a patient's thigh. A second nurse held a cloth doused with chloroform briefly under the soldier’s nose and he fell immediately into unconsciousness. She watched the clock with anxiety, despising it for running so fast and sending Thomas back to the hell he’d just escaped from. Another round of screaming entered the tent and a nurse tugged on her apron.

“We need one more set of hands on this one.” She pulled her away and led her to one of the operation tables. The man was covered in blood, so rich and dark that she couldn’t make out the man beneath it.

“Oh, God.” She whispered beneath her breath.

“Don’t just stand there, girl! We need chloroform and gauze now!” The doctor yelled and she brought over the chloroform to put the patient to sleep. As she rounded the table’s edge, she was able to just make out the bright blue eyes, wide in terror and pain, staring straight at her like the bull’s eye of a target.

“Francis?” She whispered, completely removed from the scene around her. The man stared back and thrashed about, but his eyes stayed on her’s. He screamed and grabbed his stomach that was bleeding heavily over the side of the table, onto the ground. She gasped and stumbled into a nurse.

“Get a hold of her!” The doctor yelled over the patient, his hands matted with Francis’ blood.

“I think she knows him, sir.” The nurse behind her yelled back over the noise, clutching beneath her arm and holding her above the ground.

“Then get her out of here if she isn’t going to help!” He returned to the table and she watched in horror as he shoved her fiance’s internal organs back into the pouch of his stomach.

“Francis!” She screamed with a blood-curdling cry before she fainted, her world growing black and still like a winter night.

The nurse left her on the ground and hurried to the table to assist the doctor as he restored the man’s organs into his abdomen. A second nurse covered his nose with chloroform and he slipped painfully into sleep. They cleaned the gaping wound and stitched him up with their slippery hands. Someone came running with blood bags and connected Francis to a tube. He was deathly pale and so was she. They laid together in mutual unconsciousness as the war of medicine was waged around them. After they had wiped the blood from Francis’ body, they moved her too, lying her out on the cot in her tent. One of her roommates held a bottle of whisky beneath her nose until she awoke with a snap.

“Where am I?” She panicked, twisting around to orient herself.

“You’re in our tent. You fainted…” One of her friends, Brooklyn, explained gently.

“I fainted?” She shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her dirty hands. She tried to sit up but Avonlee coaxed her back down.

“Don’t get up yet, you’ve had quite a fright and you need to rest.” Brooklyn held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She stared up at them for a while, trying to remember what had preceded her faint. She thought through the bad dreams she’d just had and in a horrible second, she realized it hadn’t been a nightmare. She gasped and tugged at Brooklyn’s uniform.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Where’s Francis? Is he alive? Was it actually him? I thought he was dead! It couldn’t be him!” She sobbed into her friend’s chest.

“He didn’t have his dog tags so we don’t know exactly who he is. All we know is that you called him Francis before you fainted.”

“And is he alright?” She urged, crying helplessly and overwhelmed.

“They stopped the bleeding but the doctor isn’t sure if he’ll live through the night.” Avonlee frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“I need to see him. Please help me see him!” She cried and her friends nodded.

“Of course but you shouldn’t be walking yet. You were out for almost two hours.” Brooklyn pleaded with her but it was no use.

“No, I need to see him. I need to see Franics, please!” She sobbed angrily into the cot until Avonlee pulled her up. The two girls carried her, her arms strung over their shoulders. She could walk but her strength was limited. She stumbled across the camp to the infirmary tent where the nurse on duty directed them to a bed behind a sliding screen.

“His injuries were so bad, we thought it best to keep it away from the other men.” The nurse said awkwardly to Avonlee.

She pushed aside the curtain and paused at the doorway, frozen in her place as she looked down on the man who was supposed to be dead. He was tucked tightly into the cot, his hands wrapped in mittens to keep him from clawing at the stitches. He looked deathly pale and, quite honestly, dead. She released a shaky breath and went to his side, collapsing in the chair by his head. He still had a youthful charm to his face, though wrinkled from war. He wasn’t as she remembered him and it made her desperately sad. She pushed a lock of blood-dyed hair from his face, needing to confirm that he was real, that his body was truly there.

“He was supposed to be dead.” She heard herself say again.

“So it's Francis then?” Brooklyn asked quietly.

“Yes… Francis Gild Jr. from Birmingham, England,” she said slowly. “I have to write to his father.” She looked down at his stomach, wrapped in layers of stiff gauze.

“I can do it if that’s easier.” Avonlee offered and she nodded distractedly.

“Yes, you’ll have to explain to him… Francis is alive.” She shook her head and crumbled into tears, they fell onto her skirt like droplets of warm summer rain. “Oh God, he’s alive. This whole time, he’s been alive. Poor Francis!” She wailed quietly to herself, almost incoherent.

“We’ll leave you.” Brooklyn announced and hurried the other nurses away and pulled the curtain closed.

She laid her hand palm down on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and dissolving into tears again.

“Damn you, Francis,” she whispered. “I grieved you. I was your widow. I-I oh God!” She gasped, remembering Thomas and her promise to say goodbye. She jumped up and rushed through the curtain, grabbing a hold of the nurse on duty.

“Has the transport back left yet? What time is it?” She panted, tears staining her cheeks.

“It’s 2:15. They’re leaving now. You could still catch them if you tried but I really don’t think you’re in a condition to run.” The nurse tried to reason with her but she shook her head.

“No, no- I need to go. I’ll be back. Please watch Francis for me.” She called over her shoulder and ran joltingly across the camp. The trucks taking men back were at the security checkpoint and she ran as quickly as she could across the drying mud to the spot. Mud flew up in dry clunks, hurting her eyes and making more tears swell in between her eyelashes. She could see the small gate and security post as she weaved between the tents. As she stumbled upon the gate, she saw the open-back trucks pull away.

“Thomas!” She screamed against the wind. “Thomas Shelby!” She screamed again. The men in the trucks leaned over in their rows to look out. She tried to get through the gate but an armed soldier held her back and she was too weak to resist.

“Shelby!” She screamed against her sobs.

“They’re gone, nurse.” The soldier tried to calm her.

“No! He must know that I came to say goodbye! I promised!” She pulled on his jacket’s lapels. “He’ll never forgive me…”

In the far distance, a man with black hair stood in the truck, a stolen cigarette between his pink lips burned. He watched the scene at the gate with narrowed eyes, anger and disappointment burning inside him. She looked like a nun, her habit dancing widely in the wind, but the large red cross on her chest gave her away. Another man pulled him down and he crashed into the seat with an echoing thud.

“Who was that?” One man asked him and Thomas sniffed.

“I don’t know.”

.....................

End of pt. 4 :)

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #fanfiction #cillian x y/n #tommy shelby

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mischiefmanaged71 · 2 years

Text

The Great War (1/10)

Summary: After landing in a place he has no idea about, Tom comes across someone who can finally help him get back to Manchester

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! reader

A tired hand ran down her face as she walked down the hall of the infirmary, performing her checks on the new influx of patients. The hospital received a load of men from the shore - soldiers from a shipwreck at Dunkirk. She expected the same sight of doctors and nurses tending to bloody wounds, and unconscious patients. To her surprise, she heard a series of loud voices shouting over each other as she followed the cacophony of a struggle down the aisle of beds.

Her sight was blocked by a few men crowding a bed, the patient seemingly unwilling as he shouted as they tried to get him to lay back.

"Get your grubby hands off me!"

"We're trying to help you!" Dr O’Conner shouted.

He had bandages wrapped around his shoulder, and blood was still stained on his skin.

“How are a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?” he said, leaning into the man's face intimidatingly.

“What’s going on here?” she spoke up, waving a hand to grab their attention. The situation diffused as the men stepped back from the bed. She felt the man’s eyes on her as she glanced at him, waiting for an answer.

“He’s refusing treatment.”

She paused, nodding in understanding. The woman clasped her, “Alright. I'll see to it. Move onto the next patient.”

The doctor nodded in response, the flock of men around him leaving with him. She held her head high as the men tipped their heads at her as they left the room. Her gaze finally fell on the man in the bed as she felt him studying her.

“What’s your problem with them? They’re just trying to help you.” She stood in front of the bedpost.

“Oh yeah, like all the help we received before, right?”

“We can’t judge people for the actions of a whole group. As I’m sure you’re not actually angry at them.”

Y/N could see as he visibly relaxed, grimacing as he tried to sit up. She moved forward, offering an arm as she helped him sit against the bedframe. Her hands felt the tension in his muscles as he strained, exhaling as the pressure came off his injury.

“That’s a little close, love. We’ve only just met.”

She sighed at that, holding back a chuckle as she moved back to stand at the bedside. “Why are you refusing their help?”

“No one’s coming here to help us. I don’t have time to sit around and wait for the Germans to pick us off.”

“I understand that, but you just barely survived on that beach. You need to accept medical attention.”

“I need to get back to English soil.” he rebutted.

He was a stubborn one, if anything. She furrowed her brows, a sigh building in her throat. Her hands felt into her pockets as she tilted her head. “You’re not going to be able to go anywhere when you can’t walk.”

“Oh, this.” he pointed at his wrapped shoulder, “This is nothing. I’ll just be on my merry way if you’ll point me in the right direction.”

He leaned up to get off the bed, evidently straining against the pain stretching at his limb. Her hand found his arm as she leaned down, urging him to sit back. “You should trust me.”

“I don’t know you.”

She nodded, “Yes, but you don’t have many options, especially out there. You're a clear target on your own. And you’re likely suffering from head trauma.”

“My head is fine.” he caught her gaze defiantly.

She narrowed her eyes, assessing his pupils “Yes, you’re dilated pupils tell me that perfectly.”

“You staring into my eyes, love?” A smirk sliding onto his features.

At least he was in better spirits than before. He did have beautiful blue eyes, she noted.

“I’m a nurse. That’s my observation.”

He sighed, visibly tired from his efforts, “Then when can I leave?”

She folded her arms across her chest, “When I can see that you’re not about to collapse or fall to infection.”

“At your mercy. That’s how it is.” he nodded.

“You don’t know the terrain here. You’d get lost.”

“I’d figure it out. My determination to get home would outweigh it.”

“Of course.” she smiled, a smugness behind her look as she assessed the work of the previous doctor, grazing her hand over the bandage. “And how would you get past the German soldiers at the checkpoints? The patrols? They're around every corner checking identification, which I suppose you have, of course."

His smirk fell from his face, his jaw clenching.

"And you don't speak French." she caught his gaze. “If you want to get back, you’ll need to learn to trust.”

“How am I gonna get out of here?”

A bout of silence passed between them, and Y/N sat down on the edge of the bed. She caught a glimpse of the desperation on his face, having seen it in every soldier that came through these parts. The once hopeful and determined faces, strained by war injuries and fear. They were all simply human, desperate to just go home and leave this bloodshed behind.

“I have a dad and sister back home.”

She relented, finally sensing he had calmed down, “Where are you from?”

“Manchester.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, confirming his accent was from the region. She had spent time abroad in England during her years of study.

“I’ve been there before. A long time ago. It was...different.”

His eyebrows raised at the that, a breathy laugh leaving his lips “Don’t sound so excited.”

“No, it was nice. It is certainly different from what I’m used to. That is what was comforting about it. I did enjoy the seaside.”

A smile crossed his lips as he side, his face relaxed “Not much else to do.”

“And what do you do? Back home?”

“Oh,” he wore this smirk that read of mischief that caused a stir in her chest at his handsome features. “I just get into trouble. You see, I’m what they call...a nuisance.”

She tilted her head at that, seeing where they could be coming from as she shook her head. He was certainly trouble from the way he smirked and flirted with her unapologetically.

“Does trouble have a name?”

“Tom. Bennett.”

“Tom.” she hummed, standing from her seat.

A hand grasped her’s, bringing her attention back. A warmth spread over her face at the contact, bringing her eyes back to his.

“You’re not gonna tell me yours? Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, love.” his eyes alight.

She chuckled quietly, leaning down “It’s Y/N.”

He waited expectantly, “Y/L/N.” she finished, flushing as he caressed her hand. Ever the charmer. She supposed he was always like this.

“Get some rest, I’ll come back tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not keep me company?”

“I have other patients to see to.” she smiled at his enticed expression, seeking out her attention. “Please, just listen to the doctors and try not to cause trouble.”

“You’re asking a lot!” he remarked, leaning back against his bed as she wandered to the exit.

“Tomorrow.” she promised.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #world on fire #ewan mitchell

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urfavhecate · 7 months

Text

Love is pain | Vanessa (fnaf movie) x fem!reader

Vanessa x (fem)Reader

Summary: Vanessa stands up to her father to protect you.

Warnings: Fluff, Vanessa from fnaf movie, ONESHOT, short one

Notes: hey! This is the first oneshot I'm posting. English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“Dad?” Vanessa whispered softly as the blade of the metal pierced her skin.

The wound on her stomach immediately began to bleed and the blonde woman fell to the ground with tears in her eyes. Even though she knew her father was a monster, she never thought he could hurt her. The man looked at Vanessa lying on the ground.

“Vanessa!” your scream echoed in the room, but paralyzed by fear you didn’t dare to move.

Your sister found old sheets of paper on which she immediately started drawing. It was the last hope that the animatronics wouldn’t end your story. As soon as Abby pinned her drawing on the wall, the robots decided to finish the story of another character. They realized who’s a villain in reality. the machines surrounded the man and Chica released Cupcake, who bites into Matthew's costume. It began to snap, cutting into his ribs, and he fell to his knees in pain.

“I always come back” these were his last words before the machines began to drag him to another room. The pain coursing through his body was unbearable, but he could do nothing to free himself from his costume.

When the animatronics distracted their attention from the women, you immediately ran up to the unconscious Vanessa. With tears in your eyes, you stroked her blonde hair and quickly took her in arms running out of the restaurant building. Abby quickly followed you, escaping the nightmare. You hurriedly pulled the first-aid kit out of the trunk and treated Vanessa's wounds, at the same time your sister called the ambulance. You held the woman close to you the whole time, wiping your tears. You couldn't believe that this nightmare had to have such consequences.

“I'm begging you, Vanessa, don't leave me… please” you were crying “I'm begging you don't do this to me... I haven't had time to tell you how much I love you!”

***

Vanessa had been in a coma for the past week with you sitting with her every. You couldn't forgive yourself for convincing Vanessa to stand up to her father to defend you, and she got hurt. You knew that if it weren’t because of you, nothing would have happened to the woman and she wouldn't be in such a serious condition right now. Another day passed, just like the others. You were sitting on the chair by Vanessa's bed holding her hand. You were reading a book when suddenly you felt a gentle embrace. You quickly put your book on the armrest of the chair and when you looked up you noticed that Vanessa's hand was gently squeezed around yours. You quickly pressed the button calling for the nurse when Vanessa opened her eyes.

“Y/N?” she whispered.

“I’m here… I’m here with you” with tears in your eyes so moved closer to her “I’m sorry Vanessa it’s all my fault” Vanessa moved gently to a sitting position, hissing in pain. The wound kept to make itself known with every move.

“Y/N, it’s okey” she said stroking your hand

“it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have forced you to face your father, I didn’t want anything to happen to you”

“it’s not your fault, I should have done it years ago” Vanessa coughed, still having trouble breathing “Y/N, I have to tell you something...”

She didn’t have time to finish because she was interrupted by running nurses.

After a few days, Vanessa was released home, but she couldn’t overwork herself. She needed help with many things and had to spare herself. You decided to take her home to make up everything for her. When you got home, you opened the car’s door to help her get out. Vanessa was stubborn, and you knew that. She tried to walk on her own, but she quickly bent over in pain.

“Come here” you said and gently took her in the bride’s arms and carried her home.

"You don't have to do it for me, I could do it myself" she said when you put her on your bed.

"I have to make it up to you somehow" you gave her extra pillows to make her more comfortable "You can sleep here, if you need anything tell me right away, I'll sleep on the couch"

"You're kidding me I'll take your bed and you'll sleep on the couch"

"It's not a problem, and I want you to feel comfortable"

“Y/N-” vanessa grabs your hand “I have to ask you something- We weren’t talking about what happened” she dropped her head “When I was laying there, bleeding out I heard you talking to me- do you-” At that moment you remembered how under the influence of emotions you confessed to her your feelings “Is what you said true? Do you love me?”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t supposed to end like this but I-”

Vanessa, despite her pain, got up and interrupted you kissing your lips. You didn’t push her away, you gently kissed her lips when she whispered “I love you too”

#fnaf vanessa #fnaf vanessa x reader #fluff #fanfic #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #y/n #vanessa monroe #vanessa monroe x reader

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legacygirlingreen · 9 months

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Part 4 - Chapter 4: A Reckoning // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Authors Note: Next chapter is up and I apologize in advance for it being more along the lines of filler, I PROMISE next chapter the action is going to be at the forefront, it just needed to be set up. Thanks to everyone who continues to read and support. I truly appreciate you all. Special love and thanks again to @strawberrypinky, 💚.

If you’re new the Masterlist can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/legacygirlingreen/713709759369560064/part-1-becoming-a-proper-gentlemen?source=share

link to audio section from chapter found here

word count: 7,000

warnings: slight mentions of blood, violence, child abuse

When they finally arrived in the hospital wing, Aesop was glad to finally have a place to set the injured girl. He’s sure that to Matilda, Nurse Blainey, Fig and the others standing nearby they were a sight for sore eyes. His jacket wrapped around her wounded frame in a crude attempt to veil her modesty, the deep cut going down her face leaving her covered in her own blood, and his own aggravated limp very apparent as he carried her towards the closest available bed.

“Heavens! Is she even still alive, Aesop?” Professor Weasley asked, rushing to the bedside along with the school nurse looking down at the severely injured young woman. The unpleasant groan that left her lips as she was set down, causing everyone to cringe.

“Yes she is. Someone will need to fetch Officer Singer.” he said, moving himself to sit on the bed next to her, the pain in his own leg suddenly becoming too much for him to bear.

“Officer Singer? Why?” Professor Ronen said coming closer as the majority of the Hogwarts professors piled in after them. Sensing it would be a while before anyone would be able to treat Poppy’s small scrapes, Professor Garlick turned towards the hufflepuff saying “let’s get you all fixed up sweetheart, I imagine it will be a while before the nurse can see you”, before steering Poppy to a bed at the far end of the ward.

“Because she managed to take down Victor Rookwood. He is dead.” he explained with an exasperated sigh. Running a hand over his face, he tried not to let the frustration at the situation show. Knowing the world was now rid of such a horrible dark wizard was a good thing, but to know it took a student to do so, no less after being tortured nearly to death didn’t sit right with him. He won’t lie, he was still extremely impressed that she had managed to fight him at all, given her condition, let alone successfully. Watching how she was able to repel the killing curse, using some form of magic he’d never seen to send the curse back into the man, thus bringing his reign of terror effectively to an end. The gasps that filled the room at the knowledge that she had won a duel against one of the most notorious criminals of their time, as a student with little experience within the magical world, confused many.

“Merlin… why did he take her?” Professor Hecat questioned coming closer to inspect the girl, who was now finally having Nurse Blainey tend to her wounds as the woman forced a potion down her throat.

“It’s a long story.” Sharp said, finally having caught his breath enough to stand again. He took one last look at the young woman, beaten like a rag doll but somehow still alive. Bending down he placed a hand on hers, squeezing it gently to let her know he was still there before moving back.

With that Nurse Blainey quickly drew curtains around her bedside, giving them some privacy as she removed the professor's jacket to see the damage inflicted on the young girl. Rushing around she asked the house elf she kept as an assistant to grab potions of various varieties in a hushed voice as she tended to her.

Y/n tried to keep her pained noises to a minimum, in order to listen in on what the others were saying. The first thing the matron had done when she arrived was force a potion to keep her alert, not knowing if she had a concussion and not wanting her to fall asleep if she did. From there she was stripped of the professor's jacket, along with the tattered camisole she wore, as the nurse brought forth a large bandage to quickly tend to the cuts along her chest before covering her breasts in case anyone came to look. Nurse Blainey, with the assistance of a house elf, helped raise her to sitting upright in order to assess the damage done to her back, as well as fasten the bandage around her so it would stay in place, before moving along to see the damage done to her face.

As the teachers discussed what had happened they almost didn’t realize that young Anne Sallow had gotten up from her bedside, looking stronger than she had in over a year, until they heard someone ask “so she is alive?” from behind them.

They all quickly turned around, recognizing her as Professor Sharp looked back to the bed in the corner, seeing the sheets back, along with two seats occupied nearby her bed. He had expected Ominis Gaunt their friend, as well as Sebastian her brother, but when he realized her twin was absent and in the place he assumed the Slytherin would be, instead was her Uncle, his blood boiled over.

“YOU!” Never since the accident that cost him his job, his health and a majority of his happiness had Aesop Sharp moved so quickly. It wasn’t but a few moments before he was standing directly in front of Solomon Sallow, his bloodied hands around the man’s shirt collar, pulling him from the chair. Sallow’s eyes barely came to his chin when resting but as he was aggressively pulled up by the ex Auror, Solomon was forced onto his toes.

“Aesop!” Professor Weasley shouted behind him and as he neglected to care about the audience in which they had collected.

“I knew you were a vile piece of scum Sallow, but this, this is a new low even for you” he yelled in the man's face as confusion filled the room. Aesop took to shaking the man's collar as he illustrated the point.

“Aesop calm down! Release Mr. Sallow” Professor Weasley continued to attempt to shout from behind him and he temporarily took a step back, dropping the man but keeping him close.

With the shouting and uproar, professor Ronen quietly encouraged Ominis to escort Anne out of the room, at least until they could discuss what had happened, and the blind boy obliged, taking Anne out of the ward. He was used to removing Anne at this rate from loud outbursts involving Solomon Sallow, only this time he was unsure the extent as to why a professor was angry with their uncle…

“Aesop, what is all this about?” Fig called out, attempting to alleviate the situation. He himself had witnessed the poor side of the man first hand, but was unsure the depth of how bad the situation they all found themselves in ran. The outburst called him to abandon the care of his protege who was quickly being patched up despite the large variety of flesh wounds she had sustained - the worst of which being the scar forming over her right eye - along with cuts on her back. The bloodied word carved into her skin, noticed by Nurse Blainey at the removal of the jacket, made the matron nauseous… it was evident the torture she had endured before she’d been rescued.

“He let poachers take her, and not once bothered to contact proper authorities. Not once did he try to help her. That girl would've died if we hadn’t arrived a moment later than we did. He just stood by, let Feldcroft burn to the ground without protecting it. He knowingly would have let her die to cover his own ass.” Sharp shouted, angry that it was him who had to go rescue the girl, frustrated that someone he worked with would allow a girl to be hurt, that he was not bothered as to the state of the girl at all. It angered him even more to know that he did so to a woman with whom his own Nephew shared relations.

“What would you have him do Sharp? He was here with Anne-” Matilda started yet was interrupted by Poppy, finally having her small scrapes attended, she spoke in place of the angry professor.

“He knew about the curse that afflicted Anne. He knew it was Rookwood. He didn’t try and tell the authorities because he was being threatened.” she explained as loud gasps filled the room. Solomon Sallow looked down, having realized he had finally been made, for allowing the curse to afflict his niece for so long.

“Miss Sweeting you know the gravity of that accusation I presume” Professor Hecat explained as Poppy nodded.

Hearing the commotion, Nurse Blainey pulled back the curtains, finally showing that y/n was awake. She had been listening, only briefly mentioning to the girl that while most of her injuries were recoverable considering they were bruises or flesh wounds, that unfortunately most of her scars would remain. Other than rest and some pain relieving potions there wasn’t much else she could do. With that she simply conjured a simple shirt to cover her before allowing her to rejoin their angered discussion.

She looked beaten to hell and back, but she would be okay. The nurse, having picked up on the conversation, walked over to her desk, retrieving the notebook discovered by Poppy and handing it to Professor Weasley.

“Poppy brought this from the camp when she initially brought Ms. Sallow. It is directly from Victor Rookwood’s desk. I believe a few pages will be… illuminating…” Professor Weasley flipped through a few pages, finding detailed descriptions of the curse, as well as conversations mentioned between Solomon and Rookwood.

“This is… troubling.” Matilda said, passing it off to Hecat who took a look.

“That is not all… according to Miss. y/l/n -” Sharp started, wanting to recount what she had told him when he rescued her but he was cut off by a strangled voice in the corner.

“He meant for it to be Sebastian.” The injured girl said, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking much more menacing now with the large scar across her face and the look of murder in her eye. Only revealed to her midst the argument by Nurse Blainey, that Rookwood laced the blade he used on her with something in order to leave behind scars, thus giving her a scabbed but healing wound that went from across the top of her eyebrow to near her nose, thankfully missing her actual eye, as well as some miscellaneous cuts along her chest and the word in which Victor had carved in her back. She had yet to see any of them herself, but as everyone looked at her, they felt her anger pointed directly to Solomon. The man shivered seeing the pure, and unaltered vexation she wore on her marred face.

She didn’t stop there, against every part of her body screaming to stay down and finally rest, she found the strength to stand up, stalking her way over to her beloved’s guardian. As she yelled the best she could with her failing voice.

“You knew Rookwood was going to curse one of the twins, and you agreed to let him do it, offering up Sebastian as a sacrifice for your misdeed,” she said, attempting to move closer when Professor Fig intercepted her, holding her back from the man, who ironically was cowering at her outburst. The former auror, the man who so openly would yell at and even sometimes assault Sebastian now cowering because of her no less. Fig spoke in a hushed tone trying to calm her as tears took to her face. The room fell silent as the professors looked between the young woman and Solomon, knowing she cared a great deal for Sebastian. The news alone disturbing them all, but they could hardly imagine her state of mind at discovering her beloved’s own guardian meant for him to take such a horrible fate.

“Why him?” she quietly questioned as Fig successfully calmed her down enough from anger. Solomon looked at her without much of an explanation, before simply sighing.

“I know you care for him… I care for him… he’s my nephew… but you have no clue what he was like before you came around… he truly was as reckless and stubborn as my-” Solomon started to speak but was so rudely interrupted when a fist met the side of his face. And then his chest. Followed closely by a kick to the groin.

No one said a word as y/n broke free from Fig, marching directly to Sebastian’s guardian, and repeatedly using muggle forms of violence against the man all the while shouting a single word through each punch she delivered. “Don’t. You. Dare. Speak. Of. Him. That. Way. You. Foul. Rotten. Git. Of. A. Man.”

Ultimately it was Professor Sharp who pulled the young woman, still kicking and screaming, off of Solomon despite his desire to let her continue.

The shock of the injured girl beating the Sallow Twin’s guardian and only surviving family to a pulp stunned the room, with the exception of Poppy and Professor Sharp. As he held the girl, whispering for her to calm down directly into her ear they all felt the castle begin to shake.

“Godrick’s heart!” Fig cried out as everyone looked around confused.

“Mr. Moon! Go collect the students and escort them all into the Great Hall. Wait there with professors Shah, Howin, Kogawa and Scribner. Everyone else we need to investigate what is going on” Matilda started to try and direct everyone’s attention as y/n stopped them all.

“It’s Ranrok, he’s drilling under the school, he is trying to get to a repository of Ancient Magic” she explained as the bewilderment took over.

“I certainly do not follow Miss y/l/n” Weasley explained and Fig took the time to explain very briefly that she in fact could see ancient forms of magic and had been attempting to put a stop to the goblin rebellion all year.

In the commotion Solomon Sallow was almost to the hospital door, and was intercepted by Abraham Ronan who simply offered an awkward smile while using his body to block the man’s attempt at an exit.

“Well this is all quite… disturbing and we will be discussing this later professor Fig. But you can’t possibly imagine I will allow you to march a student into battle, one who was very recently gravely injured” she said, annoyed that Fig would even suggest such.

“Professor… no one else can see what I can. If there’s any hope of stopping Ranrok, I am the only one who will be able to…” she quietly said, looking around seemingly looking for something.

“I can’t-” Matilda started but she was cut off by the student.

“It’s her choice, Matilda. Besides, we can protect her as we go.” Sharp explained as he heard a loud cry coming from the hallway.

“Let me through- where is he? Aesop?!” a voice called out from the hallway, pushing past the others as a short, red headed woman came bounding in, out of breath and very much pregnant.

“Becca? Oh Rebecca.” He called out, rushing to meet her as she flung herself into his arms.

“You’re alive. Oh thank Merlin. I got your owl and you hadn’t come home yet and I was so worried-” she cried out as he held her face in his large hands, stroking her hair down as he whispered against her skin.

“Shhh.. I am so sorry to have worried you, my love. I am alright. But I need you to wait here where it is safe.” he explained and she looked up to him as if they were the only two in the room.

“What’s happening?” She asked in confusion, pulling the tie from his hair, letting it fall back around his face as she combed it down.

“Goblins, attacking the school. Please promise me you will stay here while I and the other professors handle it.” He said sternly as he lightly gripped her stomach, happy to feel the light kicking.

“Aesop… that sounds dangerous…” she said looking scared as he continued to try and force her to look up at him.

“Becca please, the safety of every student in the castle is my responsibility.” He said with a frustrated sigh. And she nodded understanding his heroics were something despite retired from being an auror, would never go away. She attempted to speak but he did not let her as she tried to calm her frayed nerves by fixing his hair.

“And don’t even suggest going down there with me. I need to know you and the baby are safe.” He explained, still stroking her stomach.

“But-“ once again Mrs. Sharp tried to argue with her husband but he reached down, grabbing her waist and pulled her close as he bent his head down to her short stature planting his mouth on hers as the others turned away abruptly.

“It is going to be okay. I won’t be alone.” Aesop whispered to her trying to calm his wife’s nerves. She only nodded knowing there was no use in arguing with him. Instead she reached around her wrist, removing one of the bands she usually kept for her own hair, and started pulling his dark hair back from around his face so he wouldn’t have to fret over it in battle.

“Please come back, Aesop.” She whispered as he once again placed his mouth in hers, pulling away with a determined look on his face.

“It’ll all be fine I assure you,” Sharp looked over his wife’s shoulder, letting them fall to Solomon Sallow still attempting to escape the hospital ward and he got a bright idea when he saw the man.

“Sallow, care to join us?” he asked, not really issuing it as a genuine question, but giving the gentleman the ability to seem nobel regardless.

“I -” Solomon started, stuttering as he attempted to think of a reason as to why he couldn’t. He was instead met with a delicate hand pushing his shoulder. He looked down to once again see the girl standing at his side and he shuddered remembering how it felt to have her fist smash into the side of his face.

“As an Ex-Auror myself I cannot possibly fathom how one wouldn’t gladly jump at the chance to protect school children… especially considering they would likely face the ministry for conspiracy with a criminal if they didn’t.” Sharp levied. This caused Solomon’s face to turn into a frown realizing what Sharp was attempting to do.

“Are you threatening me, Sharp?” Solomon asked through an angered breath.

“I wouldn’t call it a threat, moreso just… putting things into perspective, Sallow.” Sharp explained, as if it was any consolation prize. Regardless of if the man helped or not, he still had every intention of marching him to officer Singer to at the very least have his wand snapped for his actions.

“It doesn’t really sound like I have much of a choice. And what would you do if I simply attempted to walk out of here?” Solomon moved again and she pressed her wand into his rib cage.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. See, that is a threat.” she explained with an annoyed sigh. Looking around she noticed most of the professors had abandoned their posts and were rushing about to situate the school before going into battle. She looked for Professor Fig realizing he too had left, leaving her and Sharp alone with Solomon in the hospital wing.

Before anyone could continue their terce conversation Ominis strolled back in, dragging Anne Sallow in behind him as he pointed his wand around looking for an explanation. Abandoning her post of guarding Mr. Sallow she moved closer to Anne. Tossing her arms around the girl she hugged Anne to her.

“I am so glad you are alright” she explained, glad to see the girl finally recovering after over a year of being inflicted with a curse. She decided at that moment she would later discuss with Sebastian about the discovery of Solomon’s betrayal, before bringing it up to Anne. Now was not the time to dump harsh truths on the recovering girl.

“Me?! You were kidnapped by Victor Rookwood, I am just glad you are alive” Anne said, hugging the girl close, thankful for her sacrifice but guilty it led to such a horrible place nonetheless. They separated for a moment, allowing Anne to finally see the damage inflicted upon her.

“Oh y/n…” she sighed, her slender fingers tracing over the forming scar over her face as she felt horrid seeing the woman her brother loved so dearly, injured all in her name.

“This is not your fault. I went into that camp knowing the risks. I am just glad Poppy managed to escape with the journal and you when she did. Scars are hardly anything to concern yourself with.” She explained, hoping to alleviate Anne’s concerns, despite deep down being terrified of how she looked. Worried that based on Anne’s reaction, possibly Sebastian too would no longer find her as fair as he once had. She hardly had time to worry about that now.

“But -” Anne started when she hushed the girl, placing her arms back around her. Looking over she saw Professor Sharp still attempting to alleviate the concerns of his wife.

“Anne, I need you to stay here. You are still quite weak and this is far from where the goblins should be. Ominis?” She asked, turning to their companion. The boy, so often ridged, softened at the tone of her voice. She stepped closer to him.

“Yes?” he asked as his unseeing eyes gazed at her. She found comfort knowing at the very least he could not treat her differently in his body language towards her. Ever since she had made it back to the castle she already could tell a difference in how people reacted to her, probably concerned at the injuries she bore. She knew going forward Ominis would be someone who, unable to see her changes, would not treat her differently. She sought solace in that thought.

“Do you know where Sebastian is? No one has seen him…” she said, concerned she was about to march into battle yet again, without being able to put her eyes on him, nor tell him how dearly she adored him.

“He was with Professor Fig last I heard. Running an errand to the town. He still hasn’t even seen Anne I am afraid.” Ominis said sadly, head bowed as he realized based on the drop in her voice she was unsure how dangerous this battle was to be.

“Shall I convey a message if I see him?” Ominis asked after a beat of silence.

“Just, - no. I will tell him myself. Please make sure Anne will be okay and stay out of sight if for some reason we cannot subdue Ranrok.” she explained, stepping forward and hugging him briefly. He hardly had time to force himself to relax before she stepped away repeating the action for Anne. She didn’t give either of them a moment to respond, as she walked away, hating that it felt an awful lot like a ‘goodbye’ and not a ‘see you later.

She returned to the professor’s side, as he gave his wife one last embrace before reaching down for her wand, transfiguring the plain clothes the nurse had given her, back into something slightly more fitting for battle. The dark leather and linen wrapped around her body and she stood, ready to face whatever may come.

“Uncle Solomon?” Anne asked meekly from the bed Ominis had made her relax back into. Everyone’s head turned to see what the girl wanted.

“Yes Anne.” He said with a sigh.

“Please keep her safe.” she expressed, wanting her guardian to help do his best to protect the girl on their way down to face the goblins. Solomon’s eyes went wide realizing what she asked, and that no one had told the girl what he had done. He simply nodded before responding.

“I will do everything I can to keep Ms. y/l/n safe,” he said sternly. While she was unsure the man meant it, to be honest she highly doubted it, he played the role well regardless.

“Where exactly are we headed?” Professor Sharp asked and she sighed.

“Professor Fig and I call it the map chamber, it's in the dungeon.” she explained, moving towards the stairwell, to escort the potions master and her lover’s guardian down to face the goblins in hopes wherever Eleazar had gotten off to, he would join them soon enough.

Sebastian took the Floo network, hoping it would be faster. He had been so tense he had nearly snapped at the wandmaker, who despite the challenge, seemed genuinely excited about the wand and its construction. Under normal circumstances he too would’ve been intrigued, ever the scholar himself, but these weren’t as such.

As he reappeared in the school's hallways, just outside the professor's door he was startled to feel the castle shaking. Why couldn’t he just get a break from all the chaos?

Just as he was about to head off in search of what was happening professor Fig reimerged from his classroom, relieved to see Sebastian.

“Ah Mr. Sallow, I presume Mr. Olivander was able to complete what we needed” he explained, reaching for the wand as Sebastian handed it over.

“Yes he did. What’s happening? Where is everyone? Is Professor Sharp back from the camp? Is she alive?” Sebastian allowed his questions to fall from his lips rather quickly as the older man looked at him sympathetically.

“She’s alive. She will be okay. I will say, it was quite disturbing the state she came back in, but regardless I think she is doing the best she can… as for what is happening, Ranrok is drilling under the school attempting to access the map chamber. We don't have much time. I need to take this wand-” Fig started to explain as Professor Weasley came bounding around the corner with Madam Scribner.

“Eleazar we must hurry! All the students have been escorted to the great hall where- Mr. Sallow? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be with the other students. I must insist you report to the great hall immediately.” She explained, reaching for the Slytherin boy by his tattered robes, pushing him towards the Librarian to head off to the great hall.

“But-” he started with the librarian cutting him off.

“Now Mr. Sallow. All students are to report to the Great Hall for their own safety. I won’t have any arguments.” she explained pushing him down the hall despite his attempts to look back over his shoulder at Professor’s Fig and Weasley.

“Professor Fig please” he begged, hoping the man would allow him to come, to help, to be reunited. Looking down sadly he shook his head.

“I am sorry Sebastian but she wouldn’t want you anywhere near it. Thank you for retrieving the wand, but please, for your own safety stay put until this is all over.” the man spoke, ashamed to have to prevent the young man from being reunited, yet doing it for his safety nonetheless.

“No, you don’t understand I need to see her. I can’t live with myself if she dies down there, and I haven’t said goodbye. I love her. Please-” he started but Fig simply looked at him one last time before apparating away with Professor Weasley leaving him with Madam Scribner.

“Mr. Sallow, please refrain from doing anything irrational.” the librarian spoke and Sebastian debated his chances of escape. He knew his skills with a wand far likely exceeded hers, if he was fast enough perhaps he could slip past her, take the floo network to the dungeon and -

Petrificus Totalus.

“I am sorry Sebastian.” Scribner said, actually sounding sympathetic to him, as he laid immobile on the floor of the hallway. Sebastian could feel her attempting to levitate his frozen body and internally he screamed to be released, that this wasn’t fair, that he wouldn’t accept his fate of being locked away with other students while she marched into battle alone.

Yet all he could do was sit there, frozen, as a single tear slipped down his face, his eyes unmoving as he was moved to join the rest of the students in the Great Hall amidst the goblin attack.

“How much further are we going?” Solomon asked, out of breath from all the stairs they were maneuvering down.

She elected to ignore him, annoyed he even felt so uncomfortable as to complain. She didn’t bother letting him know that it was merely down a few more stairs. They rounded the flight that led into the open cavern, giving way to the final bit of stairs, before coming to stand in the long elegant hallway that went into the map chamber. The quick change in architecture from normal stones, to elegant blue and bronze making the potions professor look around in awe.

“If it’s not destroyed in the goblin attack you should come down here and sketch it sometime” she said to Professor Sharp, hoping to alleviate the tension they were all feeling.

“And why would I do that?” he asked, shocked she knew of his hobby. Unbothered, the girl turned to him with a small smile.

“I found your drawing room exploring the castle. I’d apologize for snooping but truly Mr. Moon is to blame for teaching me alohomora and sending me after those Demiguise statutes… regardless, your art is quite lovely.” she said.

“Snooping around in a professor's private chambers is quite serious. The amount of house points you ought to lose -” he explained, frustrated the student felt so inclined to go into his chambers appalling him.

“I hardly think house points matter at the moment but if you feel so strongly when this is over I will take however many detentions you see fit Professor Sharp. Regardless, I still think your art is magnificent.” She explained, pushing open the doors to the map chamber, stepping inside with the two men following behind her. They stood to the side watching as she ran towards the portraits.

“Oh thank Merlin, it is so wonderful to see you are alive” Professor Rackham explained, glad to see her return and not Sebastian.

“I am alright, professor. We must hurry. Where is the final trial?” she asked, ready to rush through one last trial in order to gain access to the final repository.

“It has already been completed. We are simply waiting on Professor Fig and the boy to return-” San Bakar started, confounding her as she had not even attempted the final trial, just as Eleazar strolled in quickly, holding out a wand box as he moved across the main floor.

“Mr. Sallow returned the wand-” Fig began, only to be interrupted by her.

“Sebastian? Where is he? What do you mean the fourth trial has been completed?” she explained, looking over the man's shoulders hoping to see his handsome face strolling into the chamber but she was met with Eleazar’s stoic expression.

“While you were captured, your love took it upon himself to complete the final trial in your absence. Given the circumstances we allowed an exception. He was successful and in doing so, granting access to the final artifact, in which he brought to a wandmaker to construct the key to the final repository” Niham explained, looking down at the girl with a soft gaze.

“Sebastian, he -” she looked around confounded how he would even be able to attempt such a task.

“He is safe with the other students in the great hall, but he valiantly faced the final trial so you wouldn’t have to.” Fig explained, setting the wand in her hand.

“You mean to tell me that my nephew was here? That he neglected his sister’s side for what, some trial?” Solomon asked, reminding everyone in the room of his presence.

“Need I remind you Sallow, he hardly would’ve had to, if you hadn’t allowed that girl to be taken by Rookwood for so long.” Sharp hissed out, effectively cutting the conversation short. Another loud rumble shook the castle as she looked at the portraits.

“Victor said that the final repository is below the school, and that Ranrok knows of its location.” she explained and they nodded, indicating for everyone to step back. Doing so, the floor disappeared, as stairs emerged to a doorway below the map.

“The final repository is here. Protect it. And once the goblins have been subdued we shall begin instructing you how to effectively wield this magic. You are to only contain it. Do you understand?” They asked. She thought for a moment. What she had seen, how Isadora had used it to heal her fathers pain. A small part of her wanted to take it, wield it and save Anne, assuming that the journal had failed. She sighed, realizing if contained she could always come back for it later…

“Of course. I will guard it with my life.” she explained, starting down the stairs with the professors and Solomon.

Once the large doors opened, the four stepped inside, following the cavern as the castle began to shake around them.

“Sebastian” Poppy Sweeting said as the spell was dropped and he could finally move his limbs again. The Librarian had set him at the back of the Great Hall on the floor, after moving his immobile body through the castle.

He sat up, rubbing his head before discarding his torn school robes. He looked around and saw several other students in his year: Natsi, Garreth, Everett, Leander, Imelda, Samantha and the Hufflepuff directly in front of his face. He groaned, frustrated that he hadn’t been successful and now he found himself locked inside the hall with the rest of the students as the castle shook. Sebastian quickly noted the absence of his sister and Ominis, but figured they were still in the hospital wing.

Cries were coming from various spots around the room as the first years, seemed distraught as some of the professors and upper class students attempted to console them at the disturbing noises and shaking.

“Poppy what happened?” he asked, attempting not to be stern with the girl, but his patience for the situation growing thin.

“I am sorry Sebastian, I truly am… she was insistent upon going into that camp for Anne. Then even more insistent I leave to go warn Anne and Solomon, to escape with the journal.” Poppy explained, looking down at her hands as Sebastian sighed.

“It’s alright. We can discuss it later. I would, however, like to get out of here.” He explained, picking himself up off the floor.

“That’ll be hard to do, as the professor’s have charmed the door. My aunt did it herself before leaving with some of the faculty. It’s going to take a lot of magic to undo those charms, and we’d likely get caught before we can mutter the spells.” Garreth explained.

“Surely there’s a way to get out of here.” Sebastian had hoped that perhaps in the chaos he’d be able to slip away.

“What would we do even if we were successful?” Imelda asked, coming closer to join Poppy.

“Help her. She went down there with professor Fig. I haven’t much time to explain it, but she’s - she’s not like us. She can see magic that we can’t. I have seen her wield it. It is a very powerful, ancient magic that Ranrok is after. If he gets a hold of it, I fear we may all suffer.” he explained as everyone quietly observed.

“But we are just students, you can’t expect us to be able to stop a goblin rebellion” Samantha Dale spoke, frustrating him.

“Did she not help save your brother Samantha?” he asked sharply, turning towards the others.

“Or help you discover astronomy tables all over the highlands when you are too frightened to go alone Amit? What about beating your flying records Imelda? Or stealing things for your brews Garreth? Hell, she even helped Leander by rounding up his escaped chinese chomping cabbages. My point is that she has spent all year helping each and every one of us. What has she ever asked for in return?” He spoke and they all went sullen, realizing that the new 5th year had gone above and beyond in helping everyone, without ever expecting a return on her kindness.

“Hell, she’s spent so much time trying to do the right thing in order to satiate your moral fiber Natty or help you rescue magical creatures Poppy. I am not without blame in exhausting her either. I'm afraid by constantly going on about a cure for Anne… When she left the school yesterday she was leaving to help centaurs and wound up captured by Rookwood. I haven't a clue how bad it was but Poppy -'' he started once again and the poor Hufflepuff girl wracked with enough guilt to last the remainder of their school year looked solemnly at the group and shook her head as if to say ‘it was awful’.

“Regardless, we owe it to her. She has stretched herself parchment thin, and I’ll be damned if she dies down there alone, without aid and out of exhaustion. You can either come with me, or just help me get out of here, but please don’t let her go through this alone.” Sebastian said.

He turned to Poppy, gesturing to the girl while saying “we would be the most unloyal friends to sit idly by…” before looking at Amit and Samantha and continuing his train of thought. “And the most unintelligent classmates if we can’t find a way out of here”. He then turned to the bulk of their group mates clad in red, “We would be companions who lack the bravery she needs” and then lastly looking to himself and Imelda finally acknowledging his role; “not to mention unfit housemates to be called resourceful, if we haven’t the heart to help when we know we know that power is within us”.

“Sebastian is right. She deserves as much help as she can get.” Natty spoke, drawing a thankful nod from him.

“Look I am all for helping I suppose, but how exactly are we getting out of here to even go help? We wouldn’t know where to go even if we did get out to help” Leander spoke and the boy's easy dismissal frustrated Sebastian. Of course Leander would try and weasel out of helping. How the boy was Gryffindor when he lacked any form of bravery in Sebastian’s eyes, he’d never know.

“I think I may know where they are coming in from” Imelda spoke as the group turned towards her. “Behind the quidditch pitch, and the owlery, there’s a small cave atop the hill. I’ve noticed large machines made from goblin metal, along with many of Ranrok’s loyalists. I warned officer Singer, however I doubt she has done much.” Imelda explained. Thinking of the geography of the castle, Sebastian rationalized that it would make the most sense, as every other side of the castle was surrounded by water, and that would be the only area in which drilling could take place.

“Still doesn’t solve how we are getting out of here, or what we will do when we escape” Leander insisted.

“We can use the brooms. We can sneak around to the front of the school, and borrow the flying class brooms. They aren’t that nice, but I imagine they will suffice. Imelda don’t you still have the key?” Everett asked and she nodded.

“So Imelda and Everett can go snag the brooms. Natty, is there any way you can run by the potions classroom and collect some of the stores from professor Sharps closets? I know he has an abundance of wiggenweld, thunderbrew and invisibility potions because I’ve been making them during detentions. If we are going into battle it may not be the worst idea to come prepared.” Sebastian asked, forming a plan in his mind the best he could.

“That sounds like a great idea. I can meet Imelda and Everett on the lawn when I am finished.” Natty said with a nod.

“I will go Natty, and stop in the greenhouse. I have a few plants that could do some damage that I’ve been tending for Professor garlick” Leander explained and while Sebastian wanted to roll his eyes, the thoughts of his least favorite classmate hurling Chinese chomping cabbages at goblins did sound… interesting.

“We can go by the ravenclaw tower. I have the original schematics for the drills they are using in my dorm room. Samantha, would you like to tag along? You all could pick us up off the roof since we have a rooftop” Amit offered and while Sebastian wanted to question how Amit of all people wound up with Ranroks plans he didn’t question it.

“Alright that leaves Poppy, Garreth, Lucan and I. Poppy, would you mind joining me to stop by and retrieve something in the astronomy wing that might be useful?” Sebastian asked, alluding to the room of requirement and she nodded not giving away what he meant.

“Well we know what we do when we get out of here, but that doesn’t do much good if we can’t leave” Samantha explained frustrated.

“Leave that to me. I’ve been cooking up a brew for quite some time now and I think this is the perfect opportunity to test it out. Want to help me Lucan?” Garreth asked and the younger student nodded.

“So that settles it then. What exactly does this potion entail Weasley? Or what is our cue to leave?” Sebastian asked skeptically.

“Trust me, you’ll know”

To be continued…

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