#the way he attacked the guard though lmao

[foli-vora]

too close

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: more porn, idk what to say lmao. i want him to be cold and rough and i want it to hurt, y’ know what i mean?? anyway, here’s a supremely pissed off joel — enjoy! x

word count: just under 3.1k

warnings: swearing, very brief violence/mention of weapons, a close call, clicker attack, joel being a hero and being annoyed af about it, angsty vibes, the king of emotional constipation, SMUT 18+ ONLY: brief hand job, being restrained by being held down, unprotected p in v, very rough sex with bit of pain, no orgasm for reader coz punishment, cum shot over da assss

He hadn’t spoken.

Nothing. Not a single damn word since it happened.

Your heart still thunders in your chest, pounding in your ears and threatening to break free from its bone cage. The adrenaline has long worn off, leaving you with a tremble in your hands you can’t quite seem to get under control.

The weight of it still lingers on your body. The inhuman high pitched roar of it still circles your mind on an endless loop. The overwhelming rush of fear had paralysed you, frozen you under its brute strength and your touch had been numb around your weapon. That should’ve been it for you—done. Dead. Torn to fucking shreds right there on the filthy, muddied floor.

But he’d come out of fucking nowhere. 

A body had rushed in from the side, the clicker barely able to turn towards the noise with a wailing screech before a weight spear tackled it and gave you the chance to roll back onto your feet. You had watched, through dazed eyes, as Joel had wrestled with the creature before firing a few bullets into its sickly orange flared head with his own roar of fury.

The snarl hadn’t left his face as he stood, glaring down at the clicker, almost daring it to fucking twitch, before he spun for you, tugging harshly at your arms and collar to look for any marks. He’d shoved you away after his hurried check, uncaring as you stumbled back from the unexpected rough touch and seemingly satisfied with your untorn skin.

He had ignored your shaky thank you.

Though he doesn’t talk, he still touches. His hands cover any sharp surfaces you pass, his forearm presses into your chest to keep you from moving forward when it’s too risky, his palm pushes at your head to ensure you get through the tunnel without hitting your head—

Little things.

Little things that let you know he’s not about to throw your ass out onto the streets of the QZ for being such a fucking idiot… you hope, anyway.

The silence remains, thick and uncomfortable, all the way back until you finally reach your quarters undetected. Joel dumps his pack on the floor without a care, striding straight for the bottle of shitty homemade booze left out on the table. You hang back, nervously fiddling with your fingers as he downs a generous mouthful, ignoring the drop that escapes his lips and melts into his patchy beard.

You swallow, tongue sweeping over your dry lips, “Joel?”

He doesn’t react.

Instead, he tears a chair out from where it’s tucked under the table and allows himself to drop into it with a sharp exhale, one hand brushing down his tired features. His eyes focus beyond the floor, the slosh of the amber liquid the only sound in the dark room as he nurses the bottle slowly.

“Joel.” Firmer. Harder. “Can we talk ab—”

“No. No, we cannot.”

The pure acid in his rumble of a tone burns. You shrink from the force of it.

“Joel, I… I’m really sorry—”

“Oh, well shit—that just makes it all better!”

“I’ll be quicker next time, it just took me off-guard, bu—”

“‘Next time’?”

It’s incredulous, spat through tight lips as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever fucking heard in his life. His wild eyes suddenly focus on you and your breath sticks in your throat. They zero in on where you stand, still hovering by the door, nervous to take a step further into your shared dwelling.

“There ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ ‘next time’. Your ass is stayin’ in the QZ—permanently.”

“What? Joel—”

“I do not want to hear it,” he snarls. “The hell were you thinkin’, huh?! It fuckin’ had you!”

It all comes back. The feeling of it hitting you, grabbing you, forcing you to the floor and screeching in your face. Death had been mere inches from you, death had had you in his damn grasp. The shadow of it brings a shiver along your skin.

“I know.”

It’s weak, pathetic.

“You can’t afford to freeze like that! Not out there. You get one chance to not fuck up—one fuckin’ chance! If I hadn't been there… Jesus Christ.”

He shifts to lean forward, resting an elbow in the upper crease of his knee as his fingers press tightly into his eyes and rub. You step lightly towards him, crossing the space between you and carefully reaching out to run a hand along the arch of his back, feeling the muscles jump under your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, carding your fingers through his dry, mussed strands and softly working through the slight knots sitting there, “I really am—”

He bitterly knocks your hand away, jerking away from your touch like you’d burnt him, and it cuts into your heart, tearing through muscle and spilling a vicious icy ache through your chest.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he mutters stiffly, standing from his chair and walking away from you.

You bring your hand back towards your chest and swallow the thickness building in your throat before you can choke on it. The rejection stings, and the tears that build along your lash line are automatic.

They blur your vision of him standing at the window, back to you, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He’s rigid, posture hardened by the mix of emotion filling him. You know better than to approach him again, and instead sink down into the chair he vacated.

Silence returns, the tension rolling from his shoulders in waves reaching you despite being across the room. You pick at your skin, peeling the flakes of dried mud from your hands and pulling at the stray threads loosened from your sleeves.

Was there any way of coming back from this? It had taken you weeks to wear him down enough to even think about taking you out of the QZ on a small run, and now? He’d never go for it again. You’re back to having the mile high walls as your prison, your cage.

You’re more capable than this, you’d just been surprised is all. Surely you weren’t the first person to have been taken off guard by their appearance? To wonder how the hell something like that could come from a human? You’d never seen one at that stage before… couldn’t he just understand?

There were others, a quiet voice rings through your mind, only they never made it to the other side to think about it, to question it.

It could’ve killed you, it could’ve killed Joel, and that was all on you. All the work, all the planning, all the potential earnings… gone to shit, because you couldn’t keep your head straight the second you ran into trouble.

“I’m sorry for ruining the run,” you mutter, quickly swiping away the hot tear trailing down your cheek, “I’ll find extra work and get you the ration cards you’ve lost from this.”

He slowly turns to face you, a deep scowl carved into his stone set features and his arms drop to his sides, his hands clenching into fists. You fight the urge to curl in on yourself and remain stiff shouldered, returning his glare with a shakily stubborn gaze despite the few remaining tears that slip free from where they gather along your lashes.

“Christ. Is that what you’re thinkin’ about right now?” He’s quiet, but the rage still simmers away beneath the surface of his tone, causing the already deep drawl to roughen. “I don’t fuckin’ care about the damn cards.”

“Then why are you so fucking mad at me?” You cry out, “I said I was sorry! I made a mistake, everyo—”

“I almost fuckin’ lost you!”

You freeze at the sudden volume of his voice, the low simmer now a full boil. His shout bounces off the cracked walls and brings a whole new kind of silence to the room, the sheer ferocity of it bringing your heart into your throat.  He shakes his head and turns back towards the window, saying nothing more and leaving his words to hang in the dark.

The little thing between you and Joel had never been defined, and probably never would be. He just wasn’t like that. Sweet nothings and declarations of feelings had never, and will never, leave his lips. You weren’t even sure he liked you most of the time. You’re almost positive you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him, merely there to fill the deep void of loneliness the disaster of a world brought upon everyone.

But his words have your mind racing. Would it have bothered him that much? Does he see you as something more than an annoyance? Was it just as a companion, or maybe it ran deeper? Do you dare let the small bud of hope growing in your chest blossom into something stronger?

“Joel—”

“You should get some sleep.”

There’s no room for argument.

You give a small nod and stand, shedding the thick jacket draped from your shoulders and kicking your boots off. He doesn’t acknowledge you again, never moving his attention away from the window as you do a quick once over your dirtied skin with your damp rags before slipping under the thin, patched together blanket draped over the bed.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask quietly, eyes following the curve of his side profile illuminated by the hue of street lighting seeping through the glass.

“No.”

Swallowing the discomfort starting to constrict the back of your throat, you give a strangled, “Okay,” and roll over, turning your back to him and burying your face into his pillow to hide the tears that escape when you squeeze your eyes shut.

He does.

Sometime in the early morning, your hand brushes against his back and it’s enough to bring you out of your troubled slumber. You’re careful not to jolt the bed too much as you shift closer to him, pressing up tight against his back and carefully smoothing a hand along his side.

You soak in the warmth his body provides, inhale the familiar waves of dirt and sweat that constantly roll from his skin. If you focus enough, you can detect the faint traces of mint that linger beneath the grime from the bar of soap it had taken you weeks to save for. You knew he liked it.

He’s awake—you can feel it. The tension is still wound tight in the muscles of his shoulders, his body still practically trembles from anger, but at least he doesn’t push you away again. Your hand wanders further, smoothing down to run over his stomach and up to his chest, resting over the heavy drum of his heart.

“Are you still mad?”

Silence follows your question. Did he hear you? Maybe you’d been wrong in your earlier observation and he was, in fact, asleep. Or he was just simply ignoring you, but then finally—

“Yeah,” he answers in his thick exhaustion riddled drawl, the word rough on his tongue.

“Oh.”

There’s nothing more to say. What could you say to make it better? Nothing. It had happened, and now you simply had to wait it out until the rage started to seep from his system. Would it take days? Weeks? Your hand starts to wander as you think, and you pay no mind to the paths it makes until you feel him stiffen under your touch.

You feel your fingers brush along the waistband of his jeans and your heart jumps in your chest, beating just that little heavier. He still doesn’t push you away. Maybe there’s nothing you could say, but maybe something you could do? Give him an outlet, a chance to work the anger from his system—

Heart pounding, you let your fingers slip beneath the denim and rake through the thick patch of curls there before finding his soft cock and carefully taking it in your grasp. There’s not a whole lot of room to work with the unforgiving stretch of his jeans, but you settle for what you can do, keeping your strokes light and restricted.

It doesn’t seem to matter.

His cock swells in your hold, the soft flesh thickening and hardening until it strains against its confines, throbbing heavily in your hand. The feel of him responding to your touch lights a fire in your core, every shallow jerk you make over his cock sending waves upon waves of warmth through your system until it builds in the pit of your stomach.

This could work. This could—

A hand curls around your wrist and tugs, tearing it out from inside his jeans and throwing it back towards you. Your stomach twists at the harshness of it, a brief flutter of panic shooting along your nerves as Joel tears the sheet away from his body and turns on you.

“What the hell are you doin’?” He demands in a rough grumble and you’re rolled onto your stomach before you could even think of uttering an apology, pressed into the unforgiving mattress by the weight of him straddling your upper thighs. “You think jerkin’ me off will make everythin’ better? You think it’ll make me forgive you? Huh?”

“N-no—”

“No?” He parrots gruffly, taking a wrist in each hand and pressing your hands into the bed. “That’s what it fuckin’ feels like.”

“That’s not—” you shift under the weight of him, attempting to adjust his grip on your wrists only for him to briefly tighten his hold, “—Joel, I—”

“You think I’m gonna soften on you just coz you’re touchin’ my cock?” He continues as if you hadn’t said a word, pushing himself roughly off your wrists and curling his fingers into your waist until it stings, forcing your ass up until he can curl over you and shove a hand to the front of your pants, “Think again, girl.”

He tears them open and straightens, fingers digging under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear before tugging harshly at them until your ass is bared to him. He doesn’t bother taking them completely off, merely shoving them down enough out of the way so he’d be able to reach your cunt.

It’s a rush. Your heart thunders in your ears, your nerves wind tight in anticipation. He’s not gentle. Your skin burns where the denim had been yanked down, his hands grab and squeeze until an ache follows his touch. 

You’re barely able to comprehend the faint sound of a zipper before the blunt head of his cock is suddenly pushing between your thighs and nudging at your folds. It’s instinct to tense, knowing you’re not even slightly ready to take him, but you find yourself arching into him nonetheless.

He lines himself up, probing at your entrance before letting his hips slam forward in one savage thrust, forcing you to take the entire thick length of his cock and crushing you into the mattress. Your cry of surprise, pain, melts into the bed; your hands scramble across the bedding in search of something to hold, something to steady yourself with as he starts to move in earnest.

His pace is brutal.

It’s quick, hard.

A clear punishment, and you take it all eagerly, muffling the various noises he rips from your throat into the bedding. Arousal steadily builds as you flutter and clench around him while he takes what he wants, the feeling of him hitting a spot that feels almost too far in your cunt shooting right through your system until you feel tears sting your eyes. 

Every hit to that spot is blissful agony, your body jolting and twisting from the feeling of having him practically in your stomach with every upwards thrust. The more you try to squirm away from him hitting so fucking deep, his hands tighten and tug you back, pressing you into the mattress and unable to move away from the steady force of his hips.

A hand curls around the nape of your neck, pushing and pushing you further into the bed and keeping you completely still and at his total mercy.

It’s too much. It’s fucking perfection.

None of it is for you.

Your swollen clit throbs from the lack of attention, the ache in your core only growing wilder and wilder as his cock continues to pound into you with no end in sight. There’d be no edge, no release. Only Joel and the way he seemingly tears you apart from the inside out, forcing your body to take the weight of his fury, the weight of his fear, again and again.

The cry that leaves your lips is sharp when he eventually rips himself away, his broken exhale mingling with a downright obscene grumble of a moan doing nothing to temper the relentless fire birthed from his aggression. He finishes over your ass cheek after fisting his cock and giving it a few firm jerks, painting your skin with his hot cum and letting the weeping tip of it slide through the mess as he comes down.

You pant into the bedding, your fingers still clutching the sheets for dear life. They ache when your grip finally loosens, your joints protesting the sudden relaxing of the digits. You hurt. You throb. You tremble from the rough fucking, your cunt quivers and weeps for more despite your walls feeling tender from his merciless entry. 

He rolls off of you to sit on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his now wild hair and drawing in a few deep breaths. Your eyes begin to flutter, your body heavy where it sinks into the mattress. He leans forward and braces his forearms on his thighs, barely sparing you a look at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he warns lowly, bringing you briefly out of the haze coaxing you further and further into an inky black abyss, “do you understand me? Never again.”

The words go unspoken, like so many had done before—I can’t lose you, too.

-

everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal​, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories​, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks​, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair​, @alexxavicry​, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist​, @outercrasis​, @thisshipwillsail316​, @toxicfrankenstein​, @hotchlover​, @ew-erin​, @mishasminion360​, @jitterbugs927​, @penelopeimp​, @woodland-mist​, @pedro-pastel​, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell​, @1andthesame​, @elegantduckturtle​, @captain-jebi​, @magpie-to-the-morning​, @sharkbait77​, @sleep-tight1​, @musings-of-a-rose​, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23​, @frasmotic​, @songsformonkeys​, @loonymagizoologist​, @aynsleywalker​, @ruhro7​, @bluestuesday​, @what-iwish-you-knew​, @princess-djarinn​, @totallynotastanacc​, @girlofchaos​, @pjkimrn​, @bangaveragewhitewine​, @trickstersp8​, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate​, @ms-loverman-066​, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1​, @tintinn16​, @iceclaw101​, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt​, @tusk89​, @withakindheartx​, @curiouskeyboard​, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance​, @titabel​, @xdaddysprincessxx​, @dnxgma​, @astronomeoww​, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin​, @mando-amando​, @mx-ferelden​, @trinkets01​, @jxvipike​, @thesmutslut​, @thereisaplaceintheheart​, @scentedthingtidalwave​, @mwltwo, @loveslide​, @artsymaddie​, @untitledarea​, @sukunababe​, @emiemiemiii​, @your-slutty-gf​, @wisecolornight​, @emilianamason​, @justreblogginfics​, @marcmurdock​, @everythingisspokenfortbh​

joel miller: @jujuliaispunk​, @joelmiller67​, @tubble-wubble​, @uwiuwi​,

plus my two gorgeous babes who i think will enjoy: @charnelhouse & @frannyzooey

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #pedro pascal x reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1

The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.

He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.

Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane. 

Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.

Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.

The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.

Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.

It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.

He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.

The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.

The Hound is perturbed.

"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"

"You saved our sheep!"

"You saved our families!"

"You saved our lives!"

The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.

The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.

"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"

"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."

"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."

"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"

Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.

The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.

When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.

A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.

She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.

Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."

The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."

Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.

He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.

Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.

The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.

Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.

Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.

He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.

The Hound begins his march.

Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.

He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.

She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.

The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.

His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.

He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.

He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.

He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.

He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.

He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.

She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.

He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.

Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.

She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve. 

I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.

I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.

I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.

It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."

The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"

I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."

The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"

"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."

"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.

"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."

The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"

I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.

My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.

I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."

I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."

"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."

My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.

"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.

I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."

Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."

My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"

The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."

I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."

Sandor watches me closely.

I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."

His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."

I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.

A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.

"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."

"Like a dog?"

I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."

"That makes one of us."

We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."

His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."

My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"

I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."

My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.

The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."

I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."

He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.

"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."

I flinch when he calls my name.

I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.

Sandor holds back from stepping forward.

"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"

"No, I do not," he says coldly.

I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.

I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.

Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.

Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.

But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.

He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.

He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.

He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.

He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.

He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.

He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.

Fuck it.

He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.

When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.

Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."

"Where is she?"

Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."

He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.

They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.

Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."

The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"

Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.

"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"

Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.

Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.

The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.

Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.

The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.

"Lucy?"

Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.

I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.

I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.

The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."

He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.

"Daisy!" I call.

She ignores me.

Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"

Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away. 

"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.

"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.

I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"

I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.

"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.

I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.

The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.

I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.

A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.

Sandor goes to them.

When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.

The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.

In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.

He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.

The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"

The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"

Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.

He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.

His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...

He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.

The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.

Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.

One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.

By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.

He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.

He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.

He's losing his breath.

The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.

The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.

Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.

But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.

He follows the sound of heavy breathing.

His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.

The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.

Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.

He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."

Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.

He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.

Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."

Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.

He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met. 

Fearless.

He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver. 

So afraid.

"You're a good dog."

His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.

The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.

He screams.

He screams.

He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.

He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.

He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.

He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.

"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.

His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"

I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?

The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.

It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.

I let out a horrified cry.

The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.

Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.

Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.

"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"

"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."

"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.

The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.

I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"

Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment. 

Sandor marches out of the estate.

I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.

After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.

I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.

Boots skid, "fuck."

I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.

"What are you doing?"

I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak. 

"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.

I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."

He scoffs.

"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."

I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."

"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"

"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.

"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"

The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.

I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.

"What fucking pie?"

I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"

Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.

I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"

Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"

"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.

I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.

He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."

My jaw slacks.

I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.

My eyes water, "my lo-"

"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.

"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"

He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"

I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."

Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

He kisses me deeply.

"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."

I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."

I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.

I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.

The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.

I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.

I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.

He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.

I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.

With a barely audible creak, the door opens.

And it was also empty.

I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.

I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.

I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.

I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"

I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.

I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.

I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.

A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"

The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.

I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.

I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"

He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."

I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"

The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"

"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."

He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."

"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.

"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.

I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.

He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."

I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.

The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.

I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."

"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.

"Polly's father."

"The stable boy?" he turns to me.

"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.

He says nothing.

I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."

The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.

Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.

"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"

"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."

I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.

I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"

Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.

I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.

I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"

"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."

I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.

Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.

My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."

Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"

I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.

He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle. 

I finally look up at him.

He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"

I raise my brows, "maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Do something in the brothels."

His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.

I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.

"It's not a trick, I swear it."

"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"

"I want a baby," I mutter.

Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.

"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."

His lips part.

"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"

He shakes his head once more.

"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."

He takes my hand, "I desire you."

I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.

I place a hand on his cheek.

His knees go weak.

"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."

He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."

I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."

The Hound is pierced through his armor.

He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.

I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.

Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.

And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.

What do you say to that? How do you fix that?

You don't.

He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.

And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.

"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.

The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.

They have to get out of here.

Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.

The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task. 

Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.

The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.

"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"

A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."

Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.

"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "

Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.

He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?

"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."

Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.

He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.

He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?" 

Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."

She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."

"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want to feel."

She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"

"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."

Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.

She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.

He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.

"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.

Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.

"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.

His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."

"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."

His lips twitch. He looks away.

She tightens her grip, "please."

He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.

"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"

"Everything."

The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.

He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.

When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.

"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.

Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.

She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."

The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.

"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.

He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."

"Then will you let me go now?" 

No. No, no, no, no-

"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."

Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. "Do you want to stay?"

"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."

Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."

It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."

Please don't go.

"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."

Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.

Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #the hound #the hound fanfic #sandor clegane x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor fluff #sandor x reader #sandor fanfic #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane fluff #sandor fic #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #sandor clegane angst #sandor angst #sandor smut

[empress-simps]

May I please request a fic with James and a tomboy!reader? She’s into sports (namely quidditch, ofc), doesn’t mind getting dirty. Typical tomboy-ish stuff lmao!!! I’m not sure how to describe it. Whatever house you think is fitting will be fine by me :)

Thanks for the request darling! I hope this is what you had in mind! I’m not quite confident on how I wrote the reader but I hope it’s alright, this is my understanding of your request🥹 Thank you!(I was listening to “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees when writing this!)

Bruises and Broomsticks

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

CW: Implied Fem!Reader (uses she/her pronouns), Reader getting injured, Jealous James, and Language. (2.4k words)

James doesn’t know how it happened or when it happened.

He viewed you as a great friend- even going as far as calling you an honorary marauder. James had always seen you as one of the guys, someone who could take a joke and throw a punch. Your laughter was infectious, your loyalty unwavering, and your spirit indomitable. You were the one who would challenge him to a race on brooms, who would formulate the best strategies for capturing the snitch, and who never backed down from a dare as ridiculous as spray painting a random wall in Hogwarts.

Although, there were moments that caught him off guard—like the way the sun caught in your hair during a late afternoon practice, or how your eyes sparkled with mischief before helping them plan a prank. It was in those quiet, unguarded moments that James found himself drawn to you.

James thought it probably was the way you care and defend everyone close to you with everything you got, or how you don’t care what people thought of you. You were confident to be yourself. Whatever it was, he realized his feelings for you ran deeper than he had ever anticipated.

“Marls!” You called, running to her (almost tripping) as you entered the Gryffindor common room, sporting an ever-growing bruise on your cheek. Marlene smiled, but quickly frowned as she spotted the purple-green blob on your cheek. “Godric! What happened to your face, Y/n?!”

James quickly perked u as he heard your name, pulling him out of the conversation he’s having with Remus. He watches as you shrugged, “Dolohov was messing with me again earlier.” Sirius grinned, emerging from the portrait a second behind you. “She was a menace, I tell you!” The tall boy barks out a laugh, backing you up as a toothy grin appeared on your face.

Poor James, one of these days he’s bound to have a heart attack if he hears another news of you getting into a fight.

James watched one of his best mates throw an arm around your shoulders, hyping you up. His jaw clenched, trying to mask the growing pit of jealousy in his otherwise calm demeanor. He couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that sparked within him each time Sirius got too close, each time his laughter mingled with yours in a way that made James’s heart race for all the wrong reasons. He knew Sirius meant no harm, that your friendship with the marauder was just that—friendship. But as James’s eyes followed the casual way Sirius’s hand rested on your shoulder, he felt a possessive urge to sweep you away from everyone. He thinks he should be the one who’s on your side.

Remus tried his best not to laugh; he leans to Peter beside him, whispering “Looks like Prong’s about to burst a blood vessel,” his voice low, laced with amusement and humor as Peter looked up from his essay.

James shot Remus a warning glance, but it was softened by the half-smile that betrayed his true feelings. “Shut it, Moony,” he said, though his eyes never left you.

“What happened?” Peter asked, most students lounging in the common room looked at you, awaiting your reply.

You placed your hands in the pockets of your worn-out wide legged jeans. “I beat the shit out of that fucker.” You shrugged, a triumphant smirk on your features.

As the common room erupted with laughter at your bold proclamation, James couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. There you were, fearless and fierce, and utterly oblivious to the way he hung on to your every word, to the way his world seemed to orbit around you.

And perhaps, he thought, that was exactly as it should be. For now.

Remus looks at him with a mirth present on his face. “You know, Prongs, one of these days you’ll have to accept that Y/n can handle herself,” he said, nudging James with a knowing smile. James, however, couldn’t shake off the concern he felt. “It’s not about her handling herself, Moony,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on you. “It’s about her getting hurt.”

Oblivious to James’s inner turmoil, you continued your tale. “So, I was minding my business when Dolohov suddenly appeared and was uttering how a muggle born like me shouldn’t be walking around and tainting the wizarding world.” You started, “His wand was pointed right at me, probably about to hex me. You know what I did?” You paused for dramatic effect; your eyes twinkling. The common room was silent, everyone hanging on your every word. “I grabbed the nearest ink pot and chucked it right at his nose. Got him square in the face!” You laughed, the sound rich and carefree. Sirius joined in, slapping his knee in amusement. “It looked like a squid inked him in the face!” he adds, “This sod charmed the ink, so it’ll stay for a week!” Sirius pointed at you.

"Sirius and I were laughing so hard, he managed to hit me in the face—can you believe he forgot to even use magic? I got him back; pretty sure my converse left a mark on the side of his face.” You couldn't help but grin, recounting the tale. Marlene shook her head, her earlier concern now replaced with admiration. "That's my Y/n right there!" she said proudly, "Never one to back down from a fight."

As the laughter died down, you caught James’s eye. He was trying to look stern, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving into a reluctant smile. “Just be careful, okay?” he said softly, a rare display of tenderness from him.

You nodded, your smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Always am, Potter.”

And with that, you turned on your heel, your maroon converse thudding against the wooden floor as you made your way to the dorms, leaving a trail of whispers and a certain besotted Marauder in your wake.

“Merlin, Prongs. You never told us to be careful, just to bugger off.” Peter complained, Eliciting a grin from Sirius. “Luck’s not on our side, wormy. James doesn’t fancy us.” James gave Sirius a look.

“Don’t even deny it, Prongsie. You thought I couldn’t see you practically hexing me when I was beside her?” Sirius snorts, sitting beside Remus and leaning onto the boy’s shoulder who wrapped an arm around him.

James couldn’t find it in himself to disagree, nor did he want to. It was the truth, and it was out there now. James realized that this was a turning point, not just in his relationship with you, but in his own life. He was in love, truly and deeply, and it was time to embrace that reality.

Stepping out into the field in your quidditch uniform, you can hear the screams and chants echoing in your ears, the noise never fails you to get riled up. The vibrant green of the grass seemed to pulse with the energy of the crowd, the sky was a clear blue, a perfect backdrop for the game ahead. Feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you gripped your broom tighter, an excited smile appearing on your face. You adjusted your goggles, the leather strap snug against your hair, and swung a leg over your broom.

James took in the sight of you, smiling softly. “Be safe, yeah?”

Shooting him a wink, you replied. “Aye aye, captain.”

The referee's whistle pierced the air, and with a powerful kick, you were airborne. The wind whipped past you, tangling your hair as you soared higher. Below, the field became a patchwork of colors, the players mere specks in a sea of movement. You were in your element, the broom an extension of your body as you weaved through the air seamlessly, air resistance got nothing on you.

The Quidditch match was in full swing, the stands filled with cheers and the sky a blur of players on brooms. You were a force to be reckoned with, dodging Bludgers and racing after the Quaffle with unmatched skill. But in a split second, everything changed. A rogue Bludger, charmed by Dolohov's dark magic, veered off course and struck you with a sickening crack that seemed to echo throughout the pitch.

The game halted as screams and shocked whispers echoed through the pitch. James, who saw the entire thing happen in front of him, stopped dead in his tracks. His heart plummeted and felt his body go cold as he watched you fall, your body limp and vulnerable. Without a second thought, he dove, catching you just before you hit the ground.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?! Gryffindor’s quidditch star L/n has just been knocked off her broom!” The announcer sputters, also shocked at the event.

In the aftermath of the rogue Bludger's strike, James's instincts took over. With Y/n cradled in his arms, he flew to the ground, the rest of the world a blur. The screams from the stands faded into the background as he focused solely on you. Nothing else mattered, you were his priority. Damn that stupid match, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" James's voice was steady, but his eyes were wide with pure unadulterated fear. He gently laid you on the grass, brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

Sirius landed next to James, “Prongs, what happened? How’s Y/n?” His voice was laced with worry, checking you for any possible injuries. Your other teammates shot each other worried glances; the match has been called off.

Madam Pomfrey rushed onto the field, her medical bag in hand. “Make way, students!” She yells, but James was hesitant to move away. "She’s going to be okay," the matron assured him, James looked in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes, trying but failing to know if she meant what she said. Other players and the audiences have been ushered out of the field.

James nodded, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Y/n's still face. "I've got you," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "I won't let anything happen to you." Sirius gently pulls him away. “C’mon Prongs, let’s leave Madam Pomfrey to do her magic, yeah?”

The fear that gripped him was real, and it brought a clarity he'd never felt before. He loves you, and he needs you to be okay because Merlin forbid- he wouldn’t know what he’ll do if you aren’t.

He stayed close to you, not letting you out of his sight. Miraculously, Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She was hurt, but she was alive- that was enough for James for now. “Alright, love. We’ll get you to the Hospital Wing, just hang on.”

Your mind was hazy, you could make out two forms of people whom you guessed was James and Sirius. You groaned, the events earlier somehow getting clearer. “Fucking… Dolohov… I’ll get him back…” You muttered, sleep and exhaustion got the best of you.

As consciousness slowly crept back, your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the blurry outlines of the hospital wing. The ceiling came into focus, and a wave of relief washed over you. Well, you were glad you can still get revenge on that Slytherin wanker.

Turning your head, your gaze fell upon James. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his glasses askew, and his hair more tousled than usual. It was clear he hadn't moved from that spot since you’d been brought in.

"James?" Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, making you cringe.

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear. "Y/n? Oh, Merlin, you're awake," he breathed out, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. “That I am, have you been here this entire time?’ You asked, leaning to his direction to fix his glasses, effectively making him blush.

James' pursed his lips, trying hard not to show his hands that were slightly trembling as he clasped them together, trying to gather his thoughts. The sight of you lying there, injured, and vulnerable, had shaken him to the core. "I was terrified," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you fall during the game, my heart just... stopped."

You felt your heart fill with warmth, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "It made me realize how fragile everything is, how quickly things can change," he continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "And it made me realize that I couldn't waste another moment hiding the truth from you.”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand. His gaze earnest and unwavering, "I fancy you, and not just in some passing way. You mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you, of not having the chance to tell you how I feel... it's unbearable."

He paused, searching your face for any sign of how you were taking his words. "I don't want to wait for another scare to be honest with you. I want to be there for you, to protect you, and to be someone you can rely on. If you'll let me."

The room was filled with a tense silence as James awaited your response, his confession hanging between you like a delicate thread, ready to weave a new beginning or unravel at the slightest touch.

“Is this your way of saying you’re in love with me, Potter?” You smiled, which prompted James to roll his eyes playfully.

“I’m being serious, darling.” His thumb softly caressed the back of your hand, "I love you too, pothead. You’re an idiot for not saying it sooner." You laughed, teasing the boy beside you but your fingers curled into his, holding on just as firmly.

“I am your idiot, darling.” he replied, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours.

Looking into his eyes, you can see the rawness of emotion he feels, you know everything he had said was genuine. It was a look that cannot be put into words. In that moment, everything that had happened on the Quidditch pitch, every fear and confession, seemed to solidify into something undeniable.

Neither of you needed to speak; your hands entwined with James speak volumes. You gave his hand a weak squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, you were with him, and you weren’t going anywhere.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james potter fluff #marauders fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders era #harry potter #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #peter pettigrew

[jazeswhbhaven]

My brain is empty, aside from one thought:

Imagine play wrestling with Satan or Mammon.

I feel like it'd be the most fun with those two (Beel too, but I feel like with him it would escalate rather quickly). Just generally goofing around with them, being a little silly between all the angel attacks...

I. love. play. wrestling. Like when I say I love it, I always like writing little drabbles and throwing it somewhere in my fics when it seems like a good time. With Satan, he's imo the best play wrestling partner because he's closer to regular human height on average so there's some fair game. He's goofy in his core, so he'd purposely lose, then surprise you and flip you over and be like "don't let your guard down, ever" and let you try and squirm your way out. Trust, you'd be rolling around, scratching, biting, and in the end when you're both tired he's just nuzzling up against you and telling you what you can work on as far as winning against him lol Mammon's wrestling would be him mostly smiling at you, and letting you win each time until you complain he's not trying and so he does. Goodness, he's so l a r g e, so even when he's trying to hold back all of his movements nearly crush you in an instant and he's always finding a way to smush you into his chest. Because I see him being cute, you may get some kisses thrown in there to distract you. But in the end, he always lets you win. He gains no satisfaction in winning other than to see your face smiling and laughing, that's his gain, and he wants that more than anything. Side note on Beel though, play wrestling would just end up with him sniffing parts of you that get in his face and well...we all know how he feels about sweat and stuff so get ready to be stripped and him licking everywhere, no longer wrestling lmao

#whb #what in hell is bad #jwhbasks❓ #whb beelzebub #whb satan #whb mammon #whb headcanons #play wrestling is so cute especially with a big boi #satan and mammon are the best candidates for this

[freddysglove]

slasher reactions to an s/o with nipple piercings

includes: billy lenz, herbert west, pinhead, amanda young, chucky + tiffany, candyman, and freddy krueger.

insipired by @sl4shcelebr1ty's post about this. i loved it but wanted to add my favorite slashers too :)

tw: mention of body mutilation. nsfw !!! 

billy lenz

- absolutely flabbergasted

- billy is from the 70s. and sheltered.

- PLEASE. MAKE IT COMPLETELY CLEAR. HE CANNOT YANK ON THE BARS.

- they will become the main focus of every lewd comment he sends your way

- "pretty piggy. do you want billy to hurt you too? pull on them?" while he's sitting on top of your shirtless body

- non-sexually, he just thinks it's another exciting thing that makes you unique and interesting.

herbert west

- he's seen much more drastic things in and on a human body so i can't imagine he'd be too shocked

- it would probably be a turn on for him, though, especially if he didn't expect it

- might tease you about it a little bit

- would probably make a little comment in the moment after he took your shirt off like, "oh, hmm. you could've warned me, y/n. i'll have to be careful not to chip my teeth"

pinhead

- ...

- i mean

- LMAO

- yeah i don't think they'd be too fazed

- would probably praise you a little for it since they know it was most likely very "painful" for you

- would ask you how the pain felt

- they'd definitely want to put more piercings in your body

- obviously they wouldn't want to stop there, though.

- "you like them there, why wouldn't you like them covering you, my dear? coating all of your flesh? please, wait here, allow me to gather the pins-"

amanda

- she would be both adoring and jealous

- with her line of work, she couldn't deal with the healing and the possibility of getting them snagged and ripped out by a victim when attacking them

- so she'd have to get her joy by playing with yours instead

- would probably love to tug on them just enough to where you were in pain

- "oh poor baby, did that hurt?"

- then she'd immediately do it again

chucky

- would literally go, "oh ho ho."

- he would be so excited.

- like amanda, he'd want to tug on them, but he wouldn't be nearly as gentle.

- please establish a safe word because he seriously might tear them through your nipples.

- not purposefully but just carelessly.

- naturally, your chest would be his new favorite thing

- even when you're fully dressed he'd be staring at them and smirking to himself because he knows something other people don't

tiffany

- i picture her as a soft praising dom

- she'd touch them so gently and kiss them while talking about how pretty you are

- would leave so many lipstick marks over your chest

- if you wanted more piercings she'd be so supportive

- but would want to do them herself

- yes she has no former training, and ???

- if you were adamant about getting them professionally done, she'd still come along to hold your hand

- don't be surprised if your piercers go missing after touching you though.

candyman

- would speak in poems about how beautiful they are

-youlookabsolutelyalluringmybeautifuliwanttobeonewithyou

- would show you how much he adored them by spending hours worshipping and kissing them

- there are no bounds to his love

- might wish he could get matching ones so that he could have something constantly inside his body that was a part of you as well

freddy krueger

- you'd wish you never told him

- would make so many dirty, violent jokes that you'd be nervous being too close to him

- when you finally let your guard down to be intimate with him he'd be all over your chest

- top focus

- "it's only a dream, doll. come on. let me play a little?"

- the only one who would purposefully and shamelessly rip them out of your body while fucking you

- sorry :(

#slashers #billy lenz x reader #herbert west x reader #pinhead x reader #hellraiser 1987 #amanda young x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #candyman x reader #freddy krueger x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slashers/reader

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part II — (Azriel x Reader)

Hiiiii. Still don’t know where I’m going with this. Totally just winging lmao. Still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Another attack – this one just outside the village. The most brutal thing I’ve ever seen. It was Alda this time. The tailor’s daughter.” 

Your head jerked up. Ale sloshed over the tankard in your hand, dripping onto your boots. 

The man sitting with his friend at the bar raised an eyebrow at you. “I hope you’re going to refill that, Y/N. You poured half of it onto the floor.” 

Your cheeks burned. “Yeah—yes. Sorry.” 

Their conversation resumed as you turned back to the ale tap. The topic itself had lost its shock value, with how often you heard such conversations in your father’s tavern — but you knew Alda.

Well – knew her in the sense that you sometimes nodded in greeting as you passed by each other in the village. Knew her as well as a sheltered, friendless girl such as yourself could know anyone. 

You placed the tankard in front of the man – your father’s friend…or associate. Whatever they called themselves. Alf, you thought his name was. “Is…is Alda dead?” You asked. 

Alf gulped down a few mouthfuls of ale before he nodded. “She is. Yet another attack from the scumbag Fae. I’m telling you—” He turned to the man beside him, then, “They’re priming to strike and wipe our kind out completely. There’ll be a war before long.” 

There was no mistaking the way your stomach plummeted, your body going cold all over. Sheltered you may be, and inexperienced, perhaps naive – but while you had pretty much educated yourself, taught yourself everything you now knew at twenty-one years of age, your father had been the one to teach you about the Fae. 

Terrible, evil beings who assaulted and slaughtered humans for sport. Beings who preyed on young, innocent girls and lured them out of their beds in the dead of night. Was that what had happened to Alda?

Was it what had happened to your mother, when they’d killed her?

The Fae hadn’t breached your village in decades – until recently. The attacks were ratcheting up. 

“We need to start rallying our forces.” The second man said. “If they’re planning to strike, we need to be ready.”

The forces he spoke of were, in fact, your father’s doing. Though he was an aloof, nonchalant man – not a natural parent, by any means – the visceral hatred he felt for the Fae seemed to bring him alive. You covered his work behind the bar every week while he gave impassioned talks to the men of the village about the evil across the wall. What they were capable of. What they had already done to your kind. The fact that many humans lived in squalor, whilst the Fae lived in the lap on luxury on what was once human-owned land. And it was your job to go around after his talks, collecting the coin that the punters donated to further his cause. 

You were privy to everything that was said in The Bluebird Inn. And you’d had no choice but to be aware of the Fae, when they’d taken your own mother from you when you were just a babe, too young to ever hold a memory of her. If the Fae truly were getting bolder, coming closer…if they were picking the village girls off one by one— 

You shuddered, wiping down the bar. The two men rose from their seats and went over to join the crowd of rebels that currently surrounded your father, the noise from the group only growing louder, more incensed, as news of Alda’s murder spread.

“Have you ever seen a Fae?” 

You looked up to meet the eyes of the handsome, blonde-haired young man who leaned against the bar, bracing his forearms on it – Devin. He was, perhaps, the most dazzling of all the men in the village – only a year or so older than you, and currently completing his training to be a Village Guard. One day, he would join the other guards in protecting your people and warding off more Fae attacks. He was a quiet supporter of your father’s cause, having attended two of his talks now. 

“No.” You blinked at him. “Of course not. Have you?”

“I have.” Devin nodded. “Count yourself lucky, Y/N. You don’t want to see a Fae. They’re hideous, horrible beings. Terrifying. You can see the evil in their eyes.”

“I thought they were always rumoured to be quite beautiful.” 

His broad shoulders shrugged. “They are – but that’s all a part of the allure. They coax you in with their beauty, and then they rip you limb from limb and leave your broken body to be found by your loved ones. And they do it because they can.” 

Sick – you felt utterly sick. And cold. How could such beings exist? It didn’t matter that your father had spent your entire life drilling these facts into your head – the details were never any less horrific. 

“The attacks are becoming more frequent, aren’t they?” You asked quietly, pouring Devin a drink. 

He nodded, his pretty, pale blue eyes darkening. “They are. The Village Guards are doing all they can, but they don’t stand a chance against magic. These are dark, unsafe times, Y/N. And you’re the exact kind of person they target.” 

“I…I carry a blade with me. My father has shown me how to use it.” 

His lips lifted into a wry smile. “Smart as that is, it won’t do you much good against a being who can infiltrate your mind and plant thoughts there. They can convince you that you want to go with them, to follow them. They can get you exactly where they want you, and then they’ll strike.” He reached forward, placing a hand on your arm – the contact tinged your cheeks pink. “I know you’re independent, Y/N. I know that you help your father with the tavern, and you run a lot of his errands. But…it’s not safe, right now, for a young woman to be out walking alone. If you absolutely must travel somewhere — send for me. I’ll be your chaperone.” 

If possible, your cheeks burned even more. Any of the girls in the village would have killed for such an offer from Devin. He was easily the most sought-after man around here. And to think he was offering you his protection…

“I will.” You said a little too quickly, hoping your face didn’t show how flustered you truly were. “Thank you, Devin.”

With a charming wink, he rose from his seat and took a place amongst the other gathering audience members, glued to your father’s talk that evening. It was obvious in the incensed murmurings amongst the men that the tensions were ratcheting up. That it wouldn’t be long before they struck, and the human-Fae troubles would begin anew.

You couldn’t help scanning each face and wondering which of them would survive to tell the tale.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel went back. 

Despite telling himself not to, a few nights later, he went back. 

It struck him again how dark and dingy that little village was. But the thought eddied away as he positioned himself in the same spot and waited.

The young woman played the piano again. It was at the same time, by the same dim candlelight. But a different tune. 

He wondered if this was a routine of hers. If she played at the same hour every night.

And then he wondered why he damn well cared.

He’d never had much interest in humans. Not from any sort of prejudice; it just seemed pointless — needlessly painful — to build connections with people who he’d have decades with at best. It was easier and far more logical to quietly respect their existence from a distance. 

But that mantra was not in keeping with a growing fixation of a human woman he had no business going near.

He supposed it just…soothed him. To imagine a life of peace, where time was set aside every night to play music. Such beautiful, chilling music. 

It was a damn sight more relaxing than the ever-present roaring in his head.

And that was why he went back again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“I haven’t seen you much recently.” Elain sipped delicately from a teacup, brown eyes flitting over Azriel in all his dark glory. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

It was a pleasantly warm day in Velaris. Warm enough for them to take their tea outside. They had so far sat in companionable silence as Elain had admired the vibrant flowers and Azriel had pored over reports while sunning his wings. 

But he found himself quietly restless. Eager for nightfall; to spread his wings and fly amongst the stars 

“Just business.” He responded vaguely. A far better answer than the truth — that her mating bond with Lucien suffocated him. “Nothing exciting.”

Elain hummed thoughtfully, studying the shadowsinger. There was a pause before she said, a little coyly, “I hope nobody’s giving you grief—about me, I mean.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Grief?”

“I’m a grown woman—female.” She still found herself having to correct her words sometimes. “I make my own choices. And that includes whose company I do or do not wish to keep.”

“I don’t think anybody would expect otherwise.”

Silence was the only response. Because both of them knew what she was hinting at — the warning Rhysand had given Azriel to watch how he behaved around Elain. How Elain had learned of it, Azriel didn’t know. But she wasn’t daring enough to confront it outright.

“I just wanted you to know that.” She said, rising from her seat. “I enjoy spending time with you, Azriel. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

No, there wasn’t. Still…the two of them didn’t usually speak so boldly to each other. Az found himself unsure of how to respond.

And even more so, as Elain leaned down and pecked him on the cheek, her strawberry scent enveloping him. He felt his body go taut, felt his cheeks flush. 

“Don’t work too hard.” Elain said softly. And then she gathered up the tea tray, and disappeared inside.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The coins jostled and clinked against each other as you set the clay pot in front of your father. “Tonight’s takings.” You told him.

Rough, dirty fingers rooted around inside the pot. Your father glanced up at you. “Not bad.” But could be better, was what he meant.

You were starting to wonder if there was an amount that would satisfy your father, if you presented it to him. You knew he was eager to further his cause, to build up funds and supplies, but…he always seemed so disappointed.

Still, you hovered in front of him, wiping your hands over your wrinkled shirt. “…Devin said it’s not safe for people like me to go out unattended. With all the Fae attacks. He’s offered to be my chaperone.”

Your father’s gaze flitted to yours. To raise the subject to him was to test the waters. Your unspoken plea lay heavy in the air: go on. Let me have friends. Give me some freedom. You can trust me.

“Devin is a fine male.” He said, and a little kernel of hope arose in you. “But I don’t want you getting any ideas, Y/N.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Yes, Papa.”

“I need you here, helping me however I ask whilst I do my work. That’s your duty. And Devin is training to be a Village Guard. That is his duty. Perhaps when this whole thing is over, things will be different. But right now, I need you here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are all the chores done? Have you locked up?”

“Just some trash to take out. I had to kick Kiall out. He drank too much again, and he was becoming a nuisance.” Your voice gave away how downtrodden you felt, but you knew your father would pretend not to notice. “I thought I might play some music for a while.”

“Not tonight, Y/N.” He shook his head. “I head out tomorrow to give talks in the other villages. I need as much rest as I can get — as do you. You’ll be holding the fort here while I’m gone.”

You inclined your chin. And for a third time, you droned, “Yes, Papa.”

Your father dismissed you by easing himself back in his chair and retrieving his glass of whiskey from the small table beside him. You lingered a moment longer before turning on your feet.

But it was in the doorway that you stopped, a feared, plaguing thought arising in you. 

“Do you truly think we can win against the Fae?” You asked.

Your father glanced over his shoulder. And something shadowed his face as he bit out coldly, “We have to.”

The tone of his voice frightened you too much to respond.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel waited. And waited. And waited.

But the woman didn’t appear. And the sweet music didn’t float up to him.

He supposed he felt a little foolish for becoming so…hopeful. For racing to the human lands to glimpse and hear what had occupied his thoughts for the last few days.

Gods, Rhys would chew him out if he knew. Even though Azriel was the damn spymaster. Even though he knew how to stay hidden, and he could sure as shit defend himself against any number of humans — it was still risky. Because he could frighten the humans, if nothing else.

But he still hoped. And when he realised that it was getting late, and The Bluebird Inn was in darkness — that no music was coming tonight — he felt frustrated.

His whole body was restless as he turned and made to leave. He didn’t want to return home yet, but…there was no point in being here. In staring at a bleak, darkened village—

He was just about to take off when he caught the movement in his periphery. 

A door opened below — the inn’s side door. And out stepped the woman he’d so eagerly wanted to glimpse.

Azriel’s entire body went still, only his wings keeping him aloft. He watched as the woman — carrying what seemed to be a trash bag — turned into the alley beside the inn. 

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He flew closer. 

Close enough to watch the human deposit the trash bag into a bin. Close enough to see her turn — and pause at the sight of a man who came stumbling seemingly out of nowhere. Azriel tensed, not quite catching what the man slurred at her.

“We’re closed.” The woman’s voice floated up to him, skittering over Azriel’s skin. As sweet as the music she played. “And you’ve had plenty to drink. I won’t be serving you any more.”

The drunken human man staggered closer to her, clutching at the wall. “One more drink, and I’ll leave you in peace—”

“I said no, Kiall. My father is trying to sleep.” The woman snapped. “Go home and sober up.”

She made to step past the inebriated lout, seeming so much smaller than him.

And it was as the man’s hand shot out to shove her against the wall that Azriel acted without thinking. 

He swooped down, landing with a thud in the mouth of the alley. His face was a sheet of fury, his wings a blanket of unforgiving night, as he stared at the two humans.

They both paled at the sight of him. The woman quietly gasped.

“The lady said no.” Azriel intoned quietly, lethally, his cold eyes fully on the man. “Leave.”

There was no movement; just two humans gaping at the sight before them. Until the man seemed to reach for some sort of weapon. Azriel almost laughed at the idea.

“Leave,” he said again, taking a step forward, “while you can still leave with your heart beating.”

That was all it took to frighten the man into moving. He shoved the woman away from him, tripping over his own feet as he took off. Azriel tucked in his wings just enough for the man to scuttle past. He left as quickly as his human legs would allow.

And then it was just Azriel and the woman. The woman who so beautifully played the piano. The woman who was still staring at him, wide-eyed and trembling. 

He wanted to know her name. But it didn’t seem appropriate to ask. And his head was roaring so much with fury that he wasn’t sure he could even formulate the words.

“Are you alright?” He managed to bite out. He knew he’d got there before the woman had been hurt, but he still studied her for any indication of harm.

She blinked at him, pressing herself against the wall. And then stiffly nodded — just once.

Azriel wanted to hear her voice. But she didn’t speak.

“You should go back inside.” He said quietly.

She paused, and then nodded again. He nodded, too.

“Goodnight, then.” He inclined his head.

He shot into the skies before he could make any more reckless decisions. He knew that the woman watched the whole thing in both fear and awe.

He should go home. And not return. This had been foolish, and dangerous, and damn well pointless. She was just a human woman. Az had seen many in his half a millennia, and he would see many more.

He had no reason to be so transfixed.

But that didn’t stop him waiting and watching, making sure she made it inside, before he turned and flew back to the city of Velaris.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ azriel tag list:

@hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn @localhopedealerr @pee-stachio @tobifeemo @torchbearerkyle @honeycriess @shadowsingersmate24 @azziessidehoe @camillo-420 @aztheshadowsinger @shadow-singer123 @weirdo-fun @bookscurlsandgirls @limelightsuperhero @eviepeo

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #spymaster #shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #az x reader

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 8. Fight For Me.

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Spynosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Unethical violence. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2927 words. A/N: Another Saturday, another chapter. I picked up studying Japanese again, so far so good. Any advice is welcome :) Hope you guys like today's chapter. :) Btw I made a PLAYLIST

That was the most uncomfortable morning of my life. I can’t get the idea that I fell asleep in Sukuna's bed like it was nothing out of my head. All I could do was to get dressed quickly to get back to my house before the morning training started. Luckily, I didn't see Sukuna on my way out, maybe he slept in the guest room… or so I thought. His penthouse was huge, there must have been an extra room for sure. Upon arriving at the gym, Sukuna just scolded me for being late as if nothing happened last night, so I acted accordingly. 

Cheers and praises flooded the arena as soon as Sukuna's anthem began booming over the speakers. Even though it was the last fight of the night, this was just starting. The sound mitigated with every step we took upon the intimidating octagon where Naoya was waiting for us after making his grand entrance. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment, but I had to stay strong. This was not the time to act like a coward. 

The referee checked Sukuna's gloves and body for sandbags or anything out of place. During the inspection, Sukuna gave me a serious glare. He looked so calm for someone who was about to be locked in a cage to fight another beast his size. I had interrupted Naoya's lucky ritual and helped him perform his luck ritual successfully. He was sure he was going to win, but he couldn't let his guard down. 

Sukuna stepped onto the big stage and jogged around the perimeter so that everyone could admire his greatness. Naoya instead of watching him to analyze his opponent, was focused on me. His eyes were looking at me through the black fence, conveying a message I did not want to decipher. Sukuna had to beat him if I didn't want him to escape from the cage and lock me in his clutches. I gulped hard as soon as the referee approached them to give them the basic rules. It was time. I closed my eyes to pray to all the deities of the constellations, crossed my fingers and prayed that Sukuna's sign was lucky today. 

The bell rang and the first round began. People shouted in anticipation as the lion engaged the cheetah in a dangerous dance for dominance. As we had planned, Sukuna was taking his time with him. He was waiting for our common enemy to feel comfortable enough to approach him. Naoya took the bait as he slammed in on him with a pair of jabs, he was going right at his jaw to end the fight. “He looks different,” I thought as I watched him attack Sukuna without hesitation. He was desperate to win as fast as possible, even if that meant throwing away all his energy in the first round. 

Everything was being decided by boxing in the first two rounds, so far, we were going according to plan. Sukuna was like a fish in water, dodging every punch he landed and landing a couple of jabs that connected perfectly with his body, while Naoya struggled to take him down. There was a minute left in the third round when Naoya knocked Sukuna down with a spinning kick. The cheetah turned into a dangerous boa that attached itself to his body mercilessly. Its legs wrapped around his waist to put him in a neck lock. Sukuna tried to pull away from the cheetah's grip with hopeless punches and kicks, but Naoya wasn't about to let it go so easily. 

“Hold on, Sukuna!” I yelled in desperation amidst the howls of the fans. 

I looked at the clock hoping that the seconds would pass quickly, but it felt like an eternity. Sukuna was pushing away with difficulty the arm that chained his neck to keep from fainting. My eyes were on the verge of tears, the champion could not lose, not today. 

The bell rang, and the fighters walked away. I sighed in relief and rushed up to the octagon with Gojo and Yuuji to assist him in the break. Gojo put ice on his shoulder and Yuuji gave him water. 

“Change of plans. We must go to the floor,” I said. 

“What?” Sukuna asked me, taking off his mouth guard. 

“Naoya is desperate. He wants to win at any cost, it seems that this time he doesn't want to leave it to the judges. This is your chance to use his attacks against him,” I explained, but Sukuna didn't seem to be convinced. 

“I agree. He is fighting differently from before. Use your legs, they are longer than his,” Gojo intervened. With that, Sukuna nodded before the next round was announced by a beautiful ring girl. 

Naoya's eyes were on me as he prepared for the next round. I returned her gaze in kind, I wasn't going to let him bully me just because. The bell announced the fourth round and my eyes returned to Sukuna. After a back and forth of punches and low kicks, Naoya went straight at him. Naoya knocked him down, pushing him by the shoulders. Sukuna fell backwards with a loud thud. This time, time wasn't going to stop him. I had seen this attack before. 

“Push him with your legs!” I yelled so he could hear me as I ran around the perimeter of the octagon to get a better angle on the attack. 

Sukuna understood what I meant. With the inertia of Naoya's attack, Sukuna pushed him by the abdomen. I thought he would push him away, instead, he grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up to have him at his mercy for a couple of seconds in the air. I could see Naoya's eyes as he realized he had screwed up. Sukuna threw him to turn him like a helicopter propeller to put his leg between his arms and whip him against the floor. He caged him between his legs and kept pulling him by his limb to keep Naoya in a headlock. 

“Sukuna…” I mumbled in shock. 

Naoya was hitting him by the legs while trying to free his trapped arm. The referee was asking Naoya to get out of it quickly, or he was going to call the fight over. Time paused again as the scene unfolded before me. A king demonstrating his power to a rebellious knight. I no longer heard the people, nor my team, nor my thoughts. It was just my eyes taking in the facts, tasting those uncertain moments. 

Naoya was completely trapped, so the referee announced the end of the fight. I caught my breath and came back to my senses at the decision. Sukuna broke away from Naoya and slowly stood up to regain his posture. He looked at me through the fence and gave me a slight smirk. “Mothafucker did it,” I thought before a tear of happiness slipped down my cheek. We had won, I was free and the champion proved himself the best once again. 

I met up with the team to go up to the octagon to celebrate the victory. I moved through the crowd to give him a sweaty bear hug. I wanted to congratulate him, and thank him for giving his best as always, but I was so happy the words wouldn't come out of my mouth. I could only cry of joy on his shoulder. 

“Stop crying like a bitch,” he whispered between chiding teeth as he wiped my face with the towel around his neck. 

“Can’t I be happy?!” I scolded him between sniffles. 

“You're humiliating me. I can't have a crybaby of a trainer,” he complained. 

“I'm not...!”

My eyes popped open as soon as Sukuna connected his lips with mine in a sweet kiss in front of everyone. My cheeks turned the color of his hair and my heart started beating like crazy from shock. It was not a passionate kiss as he usually kisses me in the secrecy of his ritual, it was a tender touch in the middle of an octagon full of fighters and cameras watching us. Our lips didn't last more than 5 seconds connected, but it felt like it lasted an eternity. 

The sharp sound of something metallic woke me up from the moment. Naoya had hit Sukuna in the head with his metal water bottle before anyone could stop him. The arena gasped in shock at the unsportsmanlike attitude. Team Zenin pulled him back before he could land another misplaced blow. Yuuji, Gojo and Nanami lashed out at him and his coach for not being able to control their athlete. 

“How dare you kiss what's mine?! Let’s get back together, y/n!” Naoya screamed in a tantrum as he tried to break free from the grip of his teammates. 

“Are you okay?” I asked Sukuna worriedly as I put some ice on his bump. 

“Yes, I feel better now,” he said with a proud smile as he watched Naoya in emotional agony. 

“Naoya Zenin will appear before the official UFC committee for lack of discipline and unsportsmanlike attitude tomorrow afternoon for his actions after tonight's fight, but there are already rumors that he will be suspended for more than 5 years from all events,” The commentator announced. 

Team Black howled with joy at the news. My heart had finally calmed down after drinking a nice beer and chatting for a while with Yuuji and Megumi at the same bar we came last time. My mind was finally resting at peace after Sukuna beat up Naoya and explained to Nanami that the kiss had only been to get Naoya off her nerves. “Relax, that kiss didn't mean anything, it was just part of the strategy,” I thought as I remembered how intense that unexpected contact felt. 

“Aren't you supposed to be with the Zenins? Aren't they family?” I asked Megumi curiously to distract my mind from the strong palpitations of my passionate heart. 

“More or less. My father was kicked out of the dojo as soon as he challenged my uncle Naobito and beat him. The family could not bear such a breach of family honor,” Megumi explained, not caring at all about the incident. “I never thought that Sukuna could lift Naoya with his body, it was really incredible. Did you teach him that move?” He asked me before taking a sip of her beer. 

I looked briefly at Sukuna who was chatting pleasantly with Nanami on the other side of the table. Quickly, he noticed that I was watching him. I turned around in time so that he wouldn't think I had been watching him for a long time and that we had only connected casual glances. “Why am I thinking like a lovesick teenager?”, I scolded myself.

“I didn't know he could do that either,” I agreed, to which Megumi looked at me strangely.

After a stressful day and a couple of drinks to counteract the body ailment. I said goodbye to everyone and set out to head home under the midnight stars. I smiled to myself as I replayed in my mind how Sukuna had cornered Naoya against the canvas. The sound of his bare back impacting hard played in my mind on loop. It had been a lousy day, but an incredible night I would never forget. 

“Where are you going?” someone asked behind me. I could recognize Sukuna's voice anywhere in the world. 

“Home, to rest,” I answered as I faced him fully. Why had he followed me? Whatever the reason, we were alone on the sidewalk, it was the right time to tell him how I felt. “You did amazing tonight, thank you very much.” 

“I just did my job, I didn't do it for you,” he said with that serious tone I knew so well by now, he purposely made it sound like he was annoyed. 

“I know you didn't do it for me, but I still want you to know that I owe you one,” I joked.

He didn't hesitate to approach me, I thought he would give me a hug or another kiss, so I just froze in place. Instead, he just handed me a silver key with a Team Black keychain on it. I inspected it carefully as I twirled it between my fingers. 

“You are going to live with me, starting tonight,” he announced as if it was nothing. 

“What?! Why?!” I was really confused.

“Naoya will probably be suspended from the UFC tomorrow and have to pay a stupidly expensive fine. Guess who he's going to blame for that,” I explained. 

“You?” I really didn't want to blame myself right now. 

“Do you really think he'd try to come near me after I beat him up on the ring? And I was fighting under the rules,” Sukuna smiled proud of himself for his performance in the fight. 

“Naoya promised me that...". 

“Naoya promised you that he would love you forever and not hurt you and look where you are. Just because you're innocent doesn't mean you're stupid,” Sukuna interrupted me and then turned his back to me. “You better be home by the time I get back,” he demanded before going back to the bar.

“Hey! Sukuna! What about my stuff?!” I shouted for him to stop, but he ignored me and walked into the bar without saying anything else. 

I stood still on the sidewalk while my fingers caressed the keychain. How could someone be so nice and scary at the same time? It was obvious that Sukuna wanted me to be safe, but the way he did it felt like he was doing me a favor instead of actually wanting to help me. “He wants to protect me,” I thought as I realized what he was doing. My heart skipped a beat even though he was no longer in my presence and my cheeks dyed pink just thinking about him. 

“Sukuna sure is a strange man…” I thought out loud as I went on my way to the penthouse. 

Even though I had entered his home before, I couldn't help but be surprised as I walked down the huge carpeted hallway. I arrived in the immense living room that shared the professional kitchen, the 12-person wooden dining room and the contemporary living room surrounded by huge windows that allowed me to see the entire city glowing in the dark night. What it's like to have all the money in the world. 

“I think I'll sleep in the guest room,” I said aloud to test the echo of my new home. “First I must find the guest room,” I planned as I looked at the maze I would be living in.

I avoided the entrance doors because I knew that one of them was Sukuna's room, so I had to go up to the second floor. When I got to the top, I could see through the large windows the indoor pool on the first floor, the bar with karaoke and the small zen garden that divided the rooms. “What songs will he like to sing,” I wondered curiously as I continued my search for my room. A little smile escaped my lips as I imagined Sukuna singing Single Ladies by Beyoncé.

I had finally found the guest room. It had a king-size bed with beige sheets, a small couch to watch TV, its own bathroom and a large empty closet. I dropped my backpack on the small white couch and headed for bed. Before I could throw myself out of exhaustion, I noticed a Victoria's Secret bag at the foot of the bed. My eyes widened as I realized the real reason Sukuna wanted me to come to his house. 

“That fucker is planning to fuck me tonight!” I exclaimed, offended. 

I couldn't believe it, I was really stupid for thinking that Sukuna wanted to protect me. I had escaped from the Zenin just to face a Ryomen. I am so naive for thinking he was different, but he was just another disgusting man who can't see women as equals. I really wanted him to be different. He only fucked me twice, and he already assumes he can do it whenever he wants. I wasn't going to let him. 

I took the things out of the bag to throw it in the trash, but stopped when I saw that it wasn't lingerie, it was a full set of satin pajamas. White pajamas with pink stripes in my size. I covered my face with it from embarrassment. I had misjudged Sukuna, he sure bought me pajamas after I fell asleep naked in his bed the night before. I took off my clothes to put on the soft and comfortable pajamas, they fit me like a glove. I smiled like a fool when I saw myself in the mirror. 

“How cute…" I thought out loud before throwing myself on the bed comfortably. 

Oh.

Quickly, I realized what I had said and stood still, staring at the white glitter ceiling. Did I just say Sukuna was cute? No, he couldn't be. He is a rude, selfish, impatient, serious, self-confident, independent, disciplined, strong, handsome, rich man... I couldn't fall in love with him. I was his trainer, his co-worker. I couldn't like him because he has an amazing body, takes care of me even if he doesn't want to admit it, and kisses me like no one else ever has, right? Right?! 

Oh.

I was in trouble.

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[siilvan]

bloodsport – III

prologue | part one | part two | next

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a successful escape, you try to convince yourself that the prison and makarov are behind you. things just never seem to go to plan, though.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra, no desc.)

warnings: not proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, poorly written combat, allusions to trauma and stress, mentions of typical murderous behavior from makarov (∶__∶), OG mak's backstory bc we don't know shit about the reboot lol

word count: 5.9k

note: my birthday's on the 3rd, so pls take this as a gift from me to you :) the support on this series has also been insane 😭 you guys are so sweet!! <33

also big shoutout to @roosterr bc i completely copied the way she writes texts in fics LMAO i hope it's okay with you bestie ilysm

"anyone else would be dead already."

what the hell does that mean?

you're lying on your back, absently staring up at the ceiling, those words replaying in your mind over and over again. yet another week has passed since "the incident," as the guards in the corridor so kindly put it.

clearly makarov had given his men a new order after you killed the younger doctor. not only did they avoid touching you, but they hardly even looked in your direction outside of required monitoring. doctor tarkovsky was singlehandedly providing your medical care, as well. the next time you saw the doctor - the morning after the incident - proved to be an interesting experience. while treating you, he made a comment about "the commander seeming angry."

you add it to your ever-growing list of questions.

blaring alarms interrupt your somewhat peaceful pondering. you shoot up, instinctively reaching for your belt to grab your gun, only to be reminded that you're unarmed. the guards in the hall are shouting at each other, appearing just as surprised as you are.

carefully, you rise from the bed and cross the room, trying to listen to what they're saying. if there was one benefit to your captivity, it was the small bit of russian that you've picked up on. amongst the frantic chatter, you can make out a few words:

attack. small team. breached. combat. prisoner.

your chest tightens as you step back from the door. the base is under attack, and whomever is leading the charge is enough of a threat to raise the alarms. a small team could never hope to contend with an entire ultranationalist stronghold, though. there's only one man, one team, that could succeed despite being so heavily outnumbered.

the one-four-one.

it has to be them. they're the only ones bold enough to stage an attack, and the only ones capable of pulling it off.

even if it's someone else, they're your ally now, and your only hope of making it out of here alive.

you can see the guards scrambling outside your cell, frantically following whatever orders were being barked at them through their radios. for now, they seem to disregard your presence in favor of organizing their forces to combat the threat, but you know it won't last. contrary to the size of the prison, you're the only captive being held here; any mention of "prisoner" is referring to you.

the area quiets down as most of the men rush to aid their fellow soldiers, leaving only the alarm to keep you company. you mentally curse as you consider your very limited options. without a set of keys to escape this cell, you're stuck here.

a purposeful set of footsteps rapidly approaching makes the decision for you. quickly, you dive just out of sight of the door, pressing your back to the wall. the person stops just outside and grumbles to himself as you hear the sound of keys jingling in the lock. the iron door swings open, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet as he stares into the empty space, confusion evident in the grunt that leaves him.

a second passes before he steps into the room, scanning the far side of it. your eyes fall to the knife on his belt, easily removable if you're fast enough, and you dive for it before he can turn around.

you tear the blade from its sheath and swiftly plunge it into the side of his neck, ripping a strangled cry from the soldier as he reacts too slowly to save himself. you pull him to the ground and lay his body flat, releasing a sharp breath once you confirm the kill. temporary relief floods your system, hastening your movements as you collect as much of his gear as you can.

immediately after you secure the last strap of the armor vest, you hear voices calling out from somewhere close by. searching for the guy you just killed, you assume. with one final gear check, you move to the same spot against the wall and wait for the group to get closer.

the first of the bunch steps into the room and freezes at the sight of the other man, and you take the opportunity to drop him with the rifle you had collected. the remaining members, two or three men, are quick to respond once the gunshots ring out. you peek around the corner as they rush forward with their guns drawn, electing to start the gunfight yourself.

you manage to shoot one down before the others notice you. a bullet whizzes past your head as you aim down the barrel and shoot another, forcing you to duck back into cover.

"you're cornered. come out and i'll let you live." the final soldier says, frustration lacing his command. you sit still, lying in wait until his impatience overpowers his better judgement. a tense silence fills the air between you, only broken by the soldier groaning and coming to you instead.

he circles the corner, weapon at the ready, but scans the room in too wide an arc. you finish him off and peek out into the hall again, finding it completely vacant.

the radios on the soldiers bodies suddenly come to life, and you hear a familiar voice on the other end. you pick one of them up and attempt to decipher the question to no avail. however, there is one word that you understand. prisoner.

"you should've sent a bigger group," you speak into the radio, feeling your lips twitch into a smile at the way makarov stops short.

he merely chuckles, though, and the smile drops. "you continue to impress me, lieutenant. let's see if you can escape." he replies, relaxed as ever. he switches channels, and the radio goes silent.

you travel down the path you took the first day, when makarov was accompanying you. there's little resistance beyond a few stragglers that you dispatch with ease. most of the forces are focused on the invaders, too busy to properly deal with you as you attack from behind. the number of enemies ahead of you increases the further you go - a sign that you're heading in the right direction.

eventually, you reach an exterior door and push it open.

to say the situation is chaotic would be an understatement. soldiers are hurrying across fields, arming themselves and their allies, shouting out various commands and information. you duck low and stick to the shadows, doing your best to avoid a firefight now that the enemy solidly has the advantage.

you make some distance and perk up at the sounds of gunfire. you've stumbled across the main battle. with a renewed sense of hope to push you forward, you go towards it, ending up crouched next to an APC as you search through the chaos for any friendly faces.

one of the nearby vehicles erupts into flames moments later, catching you off-guard and stealing your attention from the fight. scrambling to your feet, you stiffen as something smooth and cold is pressed against the back of your skull. the barrel of a gun. you raise your hands in surrender and pray that the person holding the weapon can be reasoned with.

"wait," a deep voice, husky and all too familiar, speaks from behind you. "petra? 's that you?" the man, captain price, lowers his gun, allowing you to spin around and look at him.

you're almost ready to shed tears upon seeing his face, equal parts concern and relief etched into his hard expression. he grabs ahold of your shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as you nod, silently answering his question. a dark figure emerges from behind one of the vehicles at price's back and catches your eye.

the stark white skull mask instantly gives away his identity: ghost. he stops at your side, eyes crinkling behind the mask, and you can tell that he's giving you a happy look.

your eyes leave the pair and scan the area, hunting for the last two members of the team. there's no movement aside from the fighting and chaos in the distance. your gaze flits back to price as a lump begins to form in your throat and every scenario that you've cooked up during your captivity floods into your mind.

"where's soap and gaz?" you ask, voice sounding meek compared to the way you spoke earlier. price, clearly sensing the deeper meaning behind your words, pats your shoulder in a comforting gesture before withdrawing his hand.

"they're here, no need to worry," he starts, motioning for you to follow him. "the sergeants are protecting our backsides, making sure the chopper has a clear path. we're gonna meet 'em at the southside of the prison and exfil from there."

you fall in line with the two, muscle memory all but taking over as you repeat your prior strategy; keep to the shadows and only engage the enemy if absolutely necessary. the location that price described isn't terribly far and shouldn't be difficult to reach, so long as you don't get caught up in too many fights.

ghost contacts the sergeants as you move, updating them on your position. you learn through the conversation that the team came for you, and only you - makarov isn't a concern of theirs, even once you inform price of his presence. we'll slot the bastard once you're back on your feet, he says.

"we're gettin' close, it's just up here." ghost mutters lowly. you tighten your grip on your gun, anticipation steadily building inside of you the closer you get to the rendezvous point. you're this close to freedom, this close to putting this hellish place in the past and reuniting with your team. al-mazrah, the missile, your capture, makarov– all of them would sequester themselves to nothing more than memories.

a black hawk flies overhead before touching down at the designated spot. one of the back doors swing open just as it lands, revealing gaz's smiling face. he steps aside to allow the three of you to board, giving you an eager side-hug as you shuffle past him.

"petra, happy to see you in one piece!" soap's exclamation startles you as much as it overjoys you to hear, and you're suddenly swept up into a bone-crushing hug by the scotsman upon passing gaz.

"soap–! johnny, you're squeezing me too hard–!" you gasp out, still attempting to hug the man back despite your bones being turned to mush from the pressure. he releases you almost as quickly as he scooped you up and mutters an apology. said apology barely registers in your head due to the sight he greets you with, though.

there's a nasty scar over his left eye, jagged and obviously still in the process of healing. soap hardly seems to care about it, instead grinning at you like you were revived from the dead. you tap the area below your own eye to signal to him, brows furrowing in confusion. his hand mirrors your action and his face lights up, an audible "oh" falling from his lips.

"got it in al-mazrah," he says, waving off your worried look. "makes me look pretty cool, right?" he adds with a glance around the cabin, earning an affirmative hum from price and a shrug from ghost.

gaz snorts, slumping down on one of the seats and giving him a thumbs-up. "looks wicked, mate."

you collapse into another seat with a breezy laugh. "i'm just thankful that you're alive, all of you. i was starting to doubt whether you'd come." you confess, sharing a somber look with the rest of them.

ghost breaks the mood with a shake of his head. "'course we came. we're a team, no man left behind." he keeps his gaze locked on you as he talks, bringing an appreciative smile to your lips. your attention shifts to the window at your side, watching the stronghold fade away as the helicopter lifts off the ground and departs. you refuse to tear your eyes away until it disappears over the horizon, allowing you to take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

⋆⋆⋆

upon arriving in safe territory, you're almost instantly pulled into a brief, but strong hug by laswell, who was waiting on the airstrip as the team landed. you're ushered into the base's medical wing by her and price for a proper checkup, which, thankfully, goes by swiftly. you've had enough of doctors and medicine to last you a lifetime.

"you're sending me home?" you ask, practically jumping up from the examination table you were sitting on. your gaze darts back and forth between price and laswell, irritation boiling under your skin as they try to placate you.

"y'need to rest, petra. you've just been through two weeks of hell." price responds, putting his hand on your shoulder and urging you to sit back down. you shrug it off and shake your head.

"captain, i was given a clean bill of health!" you argue while waving your arms in front of yourself. your wounds from the missile had mostly healed, reduced to minor marks on your skin and a raised scar on your side that was gradually fading. "i just want to get back in the field– i've been out of commission for weeks!"

laswell steps toward you, meeting your gaze with a sympathetic look. "it's protocol, lieutenant. you may be fine enough to work for now, but we can't put you or the team at risk." she counters, crossing her arms over her chest. "you need to recover." she adds a second later, earning a frustrated huff from you.

you know you'd be saying the same thing in their position. if it was price, ghost, soap, gaz– if any of them were captured, you'd be forcing them to take time off, too. you can't shake everything that's happened, though. you don't have much to show in the way of torture-related injuries, but the isolation alone was enough to make your head spin. you never felt safe, always waiting and anticipating makarov's next move. the longer you went without seeing or hearing about him, the more your suspicions grew.

a break would give you the chance to collect your thoughts and break yourself out of the doubt that's been stewing in your head ever since that first meeting. in the field, you need to be confident and decisive. there's no room for hesitation and self-doubt.

"we'll keep you updated," price starts, regarding you with a reassuring smile. "and, this won't be forever. just long enough for you to get your head on straight, yeah?"

you deliberate on it, eyes falling to the floor, and nod slowly. he's right. you're not reliable in this state.

"okay." you concede, focus shifting back to the two.

you're heading out again by the evening, saying your goodbyes to the squad on the very same airstrip that you landed on earlier in the day. soap nearly crushes you in another hug, forcing price to yank him off before you suffocate, gaz reminds you about ten different times to call if you need anything, and ghost runs down a lengthy list of relaxation techniques whilst loading your bags in the helicopter.

it's nigh-impossible to be upset about the situation when it's made clear that they don't want you to go, either. after two weeks of constant stress, everyone just wants to be together again.

you get so caught up in your impromptu partings that you fail to notice the unidentified soldier watching you from across the field. even the ever-attentive captain price misses the soldier dialing a number on his phone, his eyes narrowing as the chopper lifts off with you inside.

⋆⋆⋆

you step foot in your flat well after the sun's gone down. it's silent, save for the soft padding of your socks against the floor after you kick off your boots. your bags are abandoned at the end of your bed, something you'll unpack later, and you shed your jacket before tossing it on top of the pile.

makarov... what's his story?

with a low sigh, you rub at your tired eyes with the heels of your palms and try to erase the question that's been plaguing you for longer than you'd like to admit. between laswell's intel and the stories price has told, you can paint a picture of who the man is.

a person ruled by his ambition, you've determined. while price's stories were more focused on his own experiences with makarov and his allies, what laswell provided was concrete: he massacred civilians like it was nothing. what could possibly drive a man to that point?

the trip back home proved fruitless, with most results online simply listing information deemed "safe" for the public. you need to know more about him - you need a source that isn't going to sugarcoat or hide the ugly truth. most importantly, you need someone who can get you personal details.

you fish your phone out of your pocket and scroll through your contacts list. laswell is an option, but she's not likely to give you anything while you're supposed to be taking time off work.

a name - or rather, a codename - pops up in the list. your thumb hovers over the contact, debating on whether or not to call.

you give in and click the "call" button after a moment's consideration. the line rings until a cheerful voice greets you.

"ah, lieutenant!" nikolai beams, sounding far too energized at this hour. "price told me about the successful prison break, congrats on surviving the ultranationalists."

"thanks, nik." you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "is there any chance i could ask you for a favor? i need information, stuff that i think only you can get." you nervously shift your weight while asking the question, worried that you might be hitting a dead end.

"information? about what?"

"makarov."

nikolai goes quiet, and you think he's going to deny your request. but, just as you open your mouth to justify it, he speaks.

"you want private informaton, yes?" he mutters, causing you to let out a deep breath. "price hasn't told you everything, and you want to research the man that captured you. that is to be expected."

"give me a little time, i'll send you whatever i can find." he continues. you can hear typing in the background after, signaling that he was following through with it. you tell him goodbye with a small "thanks" and hang up, an immense weight lifting off your fatigued shoulders.

a hot shower would be nice right now. you haven't had one in weeks, and nikolai said that gathering everything would take a while. you might as well use the break instead of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs while waiting for him.

you trudge to the bathroom and turn the water on, stripping out of your clothes and leaving your phone on the counter. you hop in the shower and feel your aching muscles relax as soon as the warm water washes over them, soothing weeks of pain and discomfort. when you get out and wrap a towel around yourself, you finally feel relatively at ease for the first time since your escape.

your phone buzzes from nearby, and you blink at the screen after picking it up. a message from nikolai stares back at you.

sent what i have, hope it helps 22:43 pm

thanks, appreciate it! 22:43 pm

i'll let you know if i find anything else 22:44 pm

you quickly dry off and get dressed in more comfortable clothes, grabbing your laptop as you stroll into the living room and get settled on the couch. it only takes a couple minutes to access the files that nikolai sent, and upon seeing a page of folders to look through, you're left shocked at the sheer amount of information he gave.

it's overwhelming, just how much makarov has done in his career - if you can even call international terrorism a "career." you decide to begin at the top of the list, shaking off the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach.

the contents of the folder go from typical, almost expected, crimes from someone like him, to acts that make you understand why price is wary of him. you sift through each file, studying the contents as if you're going to be quizzed on them, each word acting as another nail ripped out of your coffin.

the list of crimes seems endless. kidnapping, torture, trafficking, bombings, assassinations, mass murder... not only are you lucky to be uninjured, you're lucky to be alive. the privilege of being a "special" target, you presume. if not for your position in the task force, you'd be lying dead in a ditch or tortured to the brink of insanity. your stomach churns at the thought.

eventually, you reach a folder named "personal." it lives up to its name, as when you access it, the files are all details about the man himself. some of the basic information is known to you already, but most of it is entirely new - stuff you're sure was intentionally hidden away from curious eyes.

what you can find of his life before he began his reign of terror both answers your questions and adds more to the list. he was a paratrooper, a captain in the spetsnaz, regarded as a master in the field despite the list of complaints on his file. many of the men under his command considered him a natural leader; charismatic, cunning, but harsh in his methods. he received several comments from the higher-ups about his alarming behaviors, but it all came to a head when he was investigated for war crimes. he left the military to avoid the charges.

somehow, the crimes that got him discharged seem mild compared to what he's done since. you can't wrap your brain around why makarov treated you so... kindly, given everything you've read. he should have ended your life or made it a living hell, but instead, you got regular medical treatment, decent conditions, and mostly left alone during your imprisonment.

you sit back from the screen, sluggishly running a hand down your face. makarov didn't fight to keep you captured. if anything, he was happy to let you escape. it doesn't make sense. he went through the effort of capturing you alive and gained nothing from it. for a man that favors the zero-sum game, he's not playing it well.

unless this is his gain. getting in your head, confusing you, forcing you to think about him when you should be focusing on recovering. he's bogging you down, preventing you from being reliable for your teammates.

or, maybe you're looking into things too deeply. overestimating just how clever one man can be.

your phone buzzes from its spot on the cushion, and you blink at the bright screen, squinting to read the notification. it's a text message from an unknown number. a few different people flash through your mind, potential allies that could have changed their numbers recently, but no one stands out. you exhale and click the notification to open up the message fully.

feeling well? 12:35 am

you stare at the message for a minute. it can’t be price or any of the boys, you already have their phone numbers. you highly doubt that laswell changed hers without updating you, and nikolai probably hasn’t change his in the two hours since your last conversation. just as you go to type a response, two more messages pop up.

recovering at home is preferable, isn't it? 12:36 am

much more comfortable than a medical wing. 12:36 am

who is this? 12:37 am

take a guess - m 12:37 am

a chill creeps up your spine as the realization dawns on you. it's makarov; not only does he have your phone number, but he knows you're not at base. he's managed to track your location in less than six hours.

you drop your phone on the coffee table and shoot a wary glance around the room before checking to make sure your front door is locked. once you're sure of it, you start to pace around the room, wringing your hands together. the smart decision would be to call someone - price, laswell, one of the boys, someone that can get here quickly or send a person in their place.

you're not defenseless by any means, but there's no telling what makarov knows. he could be halfway across the world or in the very same city, and you have no way of finding out without putting yourself at risk. you may have gotten lucky in al-mazrah, but you can't rely on luck.

your phone lights up again, and from your position a few feet away, you can just barely make out what the screen says.

let's talk, lieutenant. 12:40 am

no fucking way. you're not entertaining the madman that you just escaped.

you need to get out; take a walk, clear your head. makarov knows where you are, but that doesn't mean he's actually here. for all you know, it could be a lucky guess. you throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes before shoving your phone in your pocket, hastily stumbling out the door. the crisp night air hits you the second you step out, making you draw your jacket tighter around yourself as you start down the sidewalk.

your brisk - practically panicked - walk does little to calm your nerves initially. you have to force yourself to slow down, strolling along at a more leisurely pace. after a couple minutes, your shoulders droop and the panic begins to dissipate.

the late hour means that you're the only person out right now. all you have for company is the occasional breeze that sweeps past, and you think that you prefer it this way.

until your phone buzzes. you stop dead in your tracks and pick it up, letting out a relieved breath at soap's name flashing on the screen. you answer the call with an easy smile.

"hey! i didn't expect you to pick up," soap laughs on the other end. "realized how late it was after dialin' your number." he adds, pulling a chuckle from you.

"haven't been able to sleep, so i figured i'd take a walk." you shrug, as if he can see you.

"ah, figured you'd pass out the second you landed." he concedes while you absentmindedly toe at the ground, eyeing your surroundings. "just wanted to check in– make sure everything is going okay with you."

for a moment, you debate on mentioning the messages from makarov. logically, it's the right thing to do; your team needs to know about any potential threats. however, there's a little part of you that hesitates to say anything. you feel the urge to keep it a secret, to wait and see what happens. makarov's given you useful intel before, maybe you can get more out of him.

"yeah, i'm doing all right," you mutter, reassuring soap. "just want to get back to work as soon as i can. i miss you guys."

soap gives you an appreciative hum. "y'just gotta heal up quick, l.t.! we're all missing you here. ghost and price are meaner than you are."

"they're not 'mean,' they just don't tolerate as much nonsense from you and gaz as i do." you counter with a playful laugh, pulling a groan from soap.

"it's not nonsense, it's– what?" soap suddenly stops talking, and you hear a voice in the background of the call. he says something to the person before exhaling dramatically and speaking into the phone again. "sorry 'bout that, it was price. apparently we've got somethin' to handle– a wrecked shadow company transport, i think. i'll send a message after we're done, yeah?"

you wave your hand while talking, again, as if he can see you. "don't worry about it, just stay safe out there. let me know how it goes."

the two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you end the call with a smile still plastered on your face. your brows furrow as you immediately receive another call, though. the number that flashes across the screen makes you grip the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white from the strain.

makarov, of course. you decline the call with an irritated sigh and spin on your heel, heading back to your apartment. another one comes through seconds later, which you choose to simply ignore this time. you speed up the short walk to your front door and slam it closed behind you, locking it just as quickly.

"you are surprisingly difficult to get ahold of, petra."

you whip around and press your back to the door, locking eyes with the man you tried so desperately to avoid. makarov stands in the middle of the room, a smug grin on his face, his arms loosely crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

"how the hell did you find me so fast?" you sneer at him, hand tightening around the set of keys in your palm. he's wearing a thick vest and armor plates - they won't save you, but the keys might buy you enough time to reach the gun in your bedroom.

"i have my ways," he tilts his head to the side, moving to lean against the back of your couch. "i needed to speak with you, and you weren't answering the phone. this was my only option."

you scoff at the claim, briefly loosening your grip. "no, you also have the option of leaving me alone." you argue, stepping further into the room. "besides killing you, we don't have any business to discuss."

"is that so?" makarov chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. you follow his gaze and land on your laptop. it's turned on again, with one of the pages detailing his personal history displayed on the screen. "you'll be very interested in what i have to say, lieutenant."

you bite your tongue, shifting your weight and dragging your focus back to him. "fine. tell me, then."

makarov straightens, his gaze flitting back to you. the edges of the keys dig into the skin of your palm, the bite of the cold metal keeping you grounded as he stalks toward you, like a predator approaching a prey animal. those alarm bells start going off in your head again, every instinct screaming at you to preemptively strike or run.

when he's a few feet away, you lunge. jabbing your keys forward, you try to hit one of the weak spots of his vest, aiming for the one of the gaps near the straps.

the training he underwent years ago is made readily apparent as makarov easily grabs your wrist and twists it, disarming you in one smooth motion. you try to use your other hand to break free, only to end up with both hands in his iron grip. you're spun around and shoved against the wall with your hands behind your back, trapped between your bodies.

you struggle, but that only encourages him to tighten his grip, firmly pinning your hands. he presses forward, using his own body weight to prevent you from fighting him off.

"you're predictable, petra," he mutters, the comment making you thrash against him. "you can't see past yourself– i am freely offering you information that your allies would die to gather themselves. take advantage of this generosity."

"i hate you," you seethe, writhing and trying to break free of his hold. he doesn't budge even a little, chuckling softly next to your ear as he leans in closer.

"good. i like that." makarov murmurs, his voice low and controlled, warm breath fanning over your skin. heat floods through your veins when he speaks, which you attribute to anger towards him.

until he nudges you again, his upper body falling almost perfectly in line with the curve of your back, his hands loosening slightly and providing your red-marked wrists with some relief. it just now occurs to you how close he is, the steady rise and fall of his chest against your spine forcing your own staggering breathing to calm itself and match his. his cropped hair tickles the side of your ear as he hovers next to you, his side profile visible in the edge of your vision.

you bite your tongue again, though for a different reason than earlier. holding any feelings but hatred and contempt for your enemy - you might as well mark yourself as a traitor if that happens. you can't allow yourself to fall for the games that he's definitely playing with you. the task force needs you, and they need whatever intel makarov can provide you with right now.

"i can be civil," you concede, barely above a whisper. "i won't attack if you don't." you add a moment later, pursing your lips.

you can see the edge of his lips twitch from the corner of your eye. makarov releases your wrists after a beat and steps back, giving you enough space to turn around and face him, pressing your back flat against the wall.

"do you trust the commander of shadow company?" he asks, bluntly. you narrow your gaze, huffing at the thought.

"graves? not by a longshot. i can trust him enough to shoot your guys before he shoots me, but that's it." you reply in an equally blunt tone.

"do you believe he is attached to the general's plans?" he says, and you deliberate before shaking your head. it wouldn't make sense, given graves' recent allyship with urzikstan. makarov continues, appearing satisfied with your answer. "you're correct. the shadow is not aware of shepherd's plans any more than your team is."

"how does this help me?"

"you will need him to cooperate in order to take down general shepherd," makarov asserts. you tilt your head curiously, urging him to elaborate. "which means, unfortunately, that you will have to work with him. my men can handle the general's lap dogs, but commander graves is the only person that can locate the general himself."

of course. your catalogue of enemies that you have no choice but to work with just keeps expanding.

"i see." you mumble, fingers twitching at the prospect of working with graves. tolerating his soldiers is one issue, but the commander is a whole other ballpark. "i still don't understand– why are you giving me all of this?"

makarov finally tears his gaze from yours for the first time since you separated. he walks over to the front door, right next to your spot against the wall, and unlocks it with a small twist of the lock. he turns toward you, though his eyes do not lift to yours again.

"the enemy of my enemy is my friend," he utters, swinging the door open. "we'll be in touch. do not ignore me next time i contact you."

you nearly miss his eyes flicking up to your face, the action so short that it feels like a trick of the light. he walks out of your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud, stopping you from watching him as he disappears into the night. you don't think you want to know where he goes, but one thing that you can say for certain is that it won't be the last you see of him.

you'll be seeing him even sooner than you can imagine.

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @k4rthon, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea

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#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #sylph.writes

[fuxuannie]

Darling.

I saw you write for hsr and that you're requests are open

I was thinking blade X reader general hcs???

Please I'm begging on my knees do more blade content(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

* pairing : blade x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : deep dark confession, i actually have no idea what blades personality is like n i have like a version of him made up in my head so pls if hes ooc, tell me about how he is like canonically WAHHH. (i also experimented a little with this style of writing! if you're into it, let me know!)

* brief warning : lmao its so funny that i always have this with blade.. blade is blade yes yes _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_

ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ Where in BLADE seems so incredibly enamored and entertained by the General. (even if they planned to kill him, hes kinda into that though ngl)

�� he likes to annoy you, you know damn well his presence alone gets you riled up. and honestly he finds it really cute lol

— even when he was already an escaping criminal, you knew that the knocks on your window late at night couldn't have been anyone else.

— "it's me again~" "get out."

— however, knowing you are the one reason he stays in luofu.. you tolerate it. you don't understand why hes so obsessed with you but if it meant keeping a criminal in control, you'll do it for your people.

— whenever he visits, its usually just one sided small talk as you're staring at him in your nightwear and sighing.

— "are you done?" "nope."

— eventually you start talking to him, cause if you can't rest might aswell do something in your restless hours.

— with each visit, you found yourself slowly opening up more and more. and he was also, quite literally getting closer to you. from only sitting on your window, to a chair, then sitting on the edge of your bed.

— you were honestly unsure on how to feel about this, because you knew the capabilities he was hiding behind that smirk. that really handsome smirk- wait what

— at some point, you were in insane denial of your feelings and wanted them gone. and so, one night you staged the ambush for when he'll visit.

— its seemingly going according to plan. the guards notice his presence within the darkness, but just as you expect him to get caught, he walks through your window at the exact time as yesterday, and the day before, and all the days before that.

— "i'm starting to think.. our fun is reaching its end." he'll say, leaning slightly out your window and looking at the groaning guards that were scattered all over the grounds of your home. each and every one were knocked out cold.

— you're trying to calm your racing heartbeat as he walks towards you, whether its fear or uh.. something else is IRRELEVANT!! he's towering over you, and you can barely utter a word out of yourself, you don't even notice that you began walking backwards, until your back meets a wall and you gasp. he slams one arm against the wall to trap you between him, a smirk on his face the entire time.

— "haaaahhh.. dontkillme." you say with a fearful tone, as he stops right infront of you and looms over you quietly. you're looking off to your right, and your heartbeat goes even faster at the sensation of his thumb finding itself on your chin, and his index finger right below your lips.

— he slowly makes you look at him, with how much time he was taking, it was almost teasingly. and the way he looked at you could've caused a HEART ATTACK. it was so full of want, like you were the most desired jewel across the galaxy, and he had you right in his fingers.

— he leans down, and you immediately stop breathing, he's so close that it's kinda scary but you're into it?? just as he's about to make contact with your lips, he chuckles to himself, pulls away and straightens himself once again. "you wanted me to kiss you, really?"

— you don't answer, but that alone speaks volumes. theres sound of chatter outside, mostly the yelling of guards, which makes blade click his tongue in annoyance.

— you're still kinda against the wall and trapped within his arms and his hand still holds onto your chin, so he pulls you surprisingly softly into a kiss, before breaking it and planting another to your forehead.

— "i hope to see you, and this time, maybe don't plan the death wishes of your guards." he says, bidding his farewell as he approaches your window. he salutes to you, blows you a kiss and disappeared into the night.

— almost as if it were staged, your guards burst into the room and immediately rush around and towards you in a defensive position, but you're not harmed nor seen with a trace of injuries or scratches across your body.

— "general? are you alright?" one of them asked, seeing you place your hands on your cheeks as clear disbelief was shining in your eyes. "i-i fear that the stelleron hunters may be here for far longer, i'll update you all if anything else happens. please leave my room, i'd like to be alone.

— once the figurative mist cleared, you walk towards your window and feel the cold breeze of midnight within your fingertips. you pull the frame to close it, before a small note falls through the cracks just as it shuts.

— it reads; "don't forget to not lock your windows.'

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building. I only own the characters Lola, Layla, and Reylynne , who are featured in this chapter.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: some violence, swearing, mentions of night terrors and death, parental neglect, mild angst, confusing feelings, crying, mentions of puberty

A/N: doing martial arts not only made me stronger, it made it WAY easier to write fight scenes lmao

also, this whole chapter takes place while reader and Luke are both seventeen

Angel.

Who knew one simple word could turn your world upside-down?

According to Luke, he’d said it because you resembled one. Though you made it clear you disagreed, he firmly stood by it. 

How could he see the offspring of death itself as an angel? He was truly a mystery at times.

Nevertheless, the nickname stuck.

.

.

.

“Hey.” 

Luke’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was walking up to where you were resting on a worn-down stone bench. 

You were both participating in sparring practice with the rest of the older campers. Unlike the basic sword-fighting classes that Luke hosted for demigods new to camp, these practices were cutthroat. Everyone wanted to prove themselves, and would do almost anything for glory.

“Getting tired already, Castellan?” you teased, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

Luke playfully rolled his eyes. “Not at all. You know I have an incredible amount of stamina.” 

You laughed. “Sure, sure.” You tightened your fingerless leather gloves, and picked up your beloved weapon. “I think I’m done resting for now. Who are you going to spar next?”

“You,” Luke said, as if it was obvious. “It’s been awhile since we’ve faced each other in combat, because we’re always on the same side.” 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the center of the arena, and positioned yourselves about ten feet from each other. Luke raised his sword, his eyes burning with intensity. Even though he was your best friend, you couldn’t deny that it was terrifying to fight against him. He had incredibly fast reflexes, impressive strength, and an intimidating presence. 

You gripped your dual-ended sword so tightly that your knuckles turned white. At least your weapon of choice was almost as tall as you, which allowed you to stay far away from your opponent while still being able to attack. If you were desperate enough, you could throw it like a spear to catch him off-guard and disarm him while he was distracted. 

“Ready, angel?” Luke asked. 

Almost immediately after you nodded in agreement, Luke charged towards you, raising his blade and bringing it down in a deadly arc.

You deflected the blow with the right side of your weapon, and jabbed at his chest with the opposite end. He easily avoided it, and backed up a few feet, waiting for you to make the next move. 

“Come on, don’t go easy on me now,” Luke said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, lunging forward and sending a stab to his abdomen. 

It became a constantly changing game of cat-and-mouse. When one of you became more aggressive and offensive, the other would play defense until they tired out their opponent. 

Many of the other demigods had already called it quits and left the arena, allowing you both to expand your range of motion. Eventually, it was just you and your best friend, alone in the ancient-looking arena. 

You were beyond tired. Your arms felt like they were made of solid Celestial Bronze, and your legs shook from soreness. You were drenched in sweat, which was not a fun feeling. But you refused to surrender, no matter how miserable you felt.

You brought your weapon down like a club, trying to hit Luke’s shoulder. He blocked it, but his sword flew out of his hands. Instead of retrieving it, he sent a swift kick to your sternum, sending you stumbling backwards. Before you could regain your composure, Luke had you pinned to the ground, one hand on your left shoulder and the other holding your wrists together. 

You silently thanked the Fates for the fact that the arena was empty. Otherwise, you’d never hear the end of it from the other campers. 

“I surrender,” you said quietly, your eyes closing as fatigue overtook you. “I’m too fucking tired to keep going.” 

Luke let go of your wrists and shoulder, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. He still hovered over you, but his expression was much gentler. 

“You alright?“ he asked, setting his sword down to help you sit up. 

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” you said breathlessly, trying to ignore the dizziness swarming your head. “I’m just fucking exhausted. You’re the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced, and I’ve fought a horde of young Cyclopes.” 

He laughed, “You flatter me, angel.” As soon as you were on your feet again, he wrapped a toned arm around your waist, surprising you. This was perhaps the most intimate touch he’d ever given you. Not that you were complaining though. It felt nice. “Now, let’s go get some food.“ 

“Best idea you’ve had all day.” 

________________________________________________

“Hey, you!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Lola, a daughter of Aphrodite, looking at you pointedly. She was surrounded by her sisters and a couple daughters of Demeter. 

“I have a name, you know,” you said, standing up and putting a hand on your weapon’s condensed form instinctively. 

“Relax, I promise I’m not trying to hurt you,” Lola said. “Come on, sit with us.” 

You mentally weighed your options. The worst they could do was mock and belittle you, charmspeak you into doing something stupid, or curse you with a bad makeover. And if they did, they’d definitely be caught. Chiron would give them kitchen duty or stable cleaning duty, which would undoubtedly mortify them.

So instead of choosing the stereotypical “I’m-edgy-and-introverted-so-I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-anyone” option, you walked over to where your fellow demigods were congregated.

“Hi,” said a girl you recognized as a member of Cabin 4 (Demeter’s cabin). “I’m Katie Gardner.”

“Nice to formally meet you,” you said, smiling slightly. “I’ve seen you around, you’re in charge of the strawberry-picking, right?”

She nodded. “Yep. And you’re…Thanatos’s child, right?” 

You winced. “Yeah…yeah, that’s me.”

Her expression held no judgement, which made you relax considerably. Lola cleared her throat, diverting your attention to her.

“So, you know Luke Castellan, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine. Why do you ask?”

You didn’t really need to add the last part; you already had a good guess as to why she was asking. 

You and Luke were now seventeen. No longer were you awkward young teenagers who’s proportions never seemed to match up properly. You felt well-adjusted to your more mature body, glad to be rid of the abomination that was puberty. 

Luke looked quite different than when you’d first met him. He’d been a slightly scrawny, cute teen with a sweet smile and wavy brown hair. His hair had become curlier, his figure was more muscular thanks to his rigorous training schedule, and he’d become much more confident in himself. Though his ego was a bit irritating at times, it did add to his charismatic personality.

It was no surprise that people had begun taking romantic interest in him. 

Lola smiled, showing off her pearly white teeth. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

You shrugged. Honestly, you hadn’t really spent much time analyzing his appearance. “I guess so.”

“So then why haven’t you started going out with him?” 

“Excuse me?”

One of Lola’s sisters spoke up. “Hon, you and Castellan are like two peas in a pod. I rarely see you apart.“

You bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the grass. This was perhaps the most awkward conversation you’d ever had. Well, besides that one time you had to explain to Luke why you felt like your stomach was being stabbed by invisible knives for days on end.

“That’s because he’s my best friend,” you say quietly, hoping that nobody else was listening in. If this conversation got around, it would cause a lot of unnecessary gossip. “He’s the only person who I trust with my life, and he trusts me with his.”

Another daughter of Aphrodite scoffed, playing with her perfectly straightened hair. “That’s ironic, considering that you’re literally the spawn of death itself.” 

“Reylynne!” Katie said disapprovingly. 

“It’s fine,” you said nonchalantly. “It’s true, I am death’s child. Anyways, my point is that Luke and I…we’re just…you know, really good friends. I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

“We just think you two would be super cute together, that’s all,” another of Aphrodite’s daughters chimed in. “Oh, I’m Layla, by the way.” She held out her hand, and you shook it gently. 

“I understand where you all are coming from,” you said as politely as possible. “But I don’t  like Luke that way. I don’t think I ever will.”

Reylynne smirked, which made you inexplicably nauseous. “Fine by me. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“Reylynne!” Lola chastised, swatting her upside the head. 

You stood up, brushing the grass off of your leggings. “I better go. I have to help my cabin-mates clean up before the inspection later tonight.” 

“Alright,” Lola said, giving you a friendly smile. “Feel free to hang out with us whenever you want, ok?”

You nodded, hiding your shock. Giving them an awkward wave, you ran towards Cabin 11, glad to have finally escaped that extremely personal discussion. 

Even worse, it wasn’t really the topic of conversation that bothered you. 

It was the fact that it had planted a thought inside of your head:

you and Luke really would be a great couple.

________________________________________________

It was another sleepless night. 

You’d tossed and turned for hours before giving up. You simply couldn’t get your body to relax. There was far too much on your mind.

Even worse, the main subject of your thoughts was sleeping just a few feet away from you. 

You rolled over on your mattress to face Luke’s bunk, which was right next to yours. He was partially covered by his blankets, but you could still make out the old, torn camp t-shirt he slept in. His eyelashes fluttered sporadically, and his breathing was slow and steady. 

He looked calm, at ease. The sight made you smile.

If anyone deserved peace of mind, it was Luke.

You moved back into your back, closing your eyes once more. Maybe, if you tried really hard to clear your mind of any Luke-related thoughts, you could achieve a few decent hours of rest. 

Sure enough, drowsiness began to set in. Pulling your dark grey fleece blanket tighter around you, you prepared to enter Hypnos’s realm. 

But just as you felt yourself begin to drift off, someone whimpered beside you. 

Your eyes snapping open, you turned to face Luke, squinting in order to see him in the dim moonlight. 

He was clutching his sheets, his breathing had become heavy and frantic, and he was murmuring in an obviously panicked tone.

“Thalia, no! No, please don’t go, I can’t lose you again, let me die instead!” 

He was having a nightmare about the fateful night that he, Thalia, and Annabeth had arrived at camp. 

You knew how much he had cared for Thalia. They’d spent quite a bit of time on the run together, and developed a fiercely tight bond. He’d confessed that he’d started crushing on her at some point, but that never went anywhere because of her unfortunate demise. 

You felt like Khione herself had frozen you to your mattress. You wanted to wake him up and free him from his night terrors, but you also weren’t sure if you could properly comfort him. 

Still, you had to at least try. He needed to know he wasn’t alone.

As quietly as possible, you got out of bed and crept over to his mattress. You gently pulled the covers off of Luke, and gently shook him by the shoulders a few times.

Luke jolted awake, grasping his sheets tightly. Your heart tightened painfully when you saw the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Oh, Luke…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

“Angel,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “You okay?”

“You were having a nightmare. About the night you arrived at camp.”

Luke sat up slowly, hastily wiping away the tears that had begun to run down his cheeks. “Yeah…yeah, I remember now. Gods, it was horrible. I saw her get overpowered and injured by the monsters all over again. It was like everything was in slow-motion just to torture me.” 

You placed a hand on his forearm, rubbing soothing circles on his clammy skin with your thumb. “You’re okay, Luke. It was just a dream.”

“About a very real thing,” he added. “Thalia died because of me. I didn’t do enough to protect her.” 

Instinctively, you pulled Luke into a hug when he began to cry again. You ran a hand through his curls softly, hoping it would calm him down somehow. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” you said. “Blame the Fates. Blame Hades for sending the monsters. Blame all of the fucking gods. They have failed at properly protecting their children. You did everything you could’ve done. You got Annabeth to safety, and Thalia met a hero’s fate. Her memory will live on, as her presence strengthens the border that shields us from the mortal world.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You sat there for what seemed like millennia, letting him cry against your shoulder.

Finally, he stopped trembling, and pulled away slightly. “You’re right,” he whispered. “I know it isn’t my fault, it’s the gods’ fault. I just…I just miss her. She was so funny, such a good fighter, and an incredibly loyal friend. She deserved so much better. You would’ve really liked her, I know it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I’m sure.” 

“Thanks for waking me up,” he said, taking your hands in his. “I really appreciate it. Gods, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Me neither,” you admitted.

Luke yawned, removing his hands from yours to rub his eyes. “I think I’m gonna try to go back to sleep. You should get some rest, too. We have archery practice in the morning.” 

You smirked, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I know that look. You’re planning something.”

You can’t help but smile. “You know me so well. I’m thinking that we should sneak out of camp tomorrow. We can take a day trip, just the two or us.”

Luke grinned. “That sounds amazing.” 

“Great, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.” You pivoted to climb off of the bed, but stopped when he said,

“Wait…please, stay.”

And that was how you ended up sharing a bed with Luke Castellan for the first time. 

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!!

Also, I was scrolling thru the Luke Castellan tag and noticed someone requested a fic with daughter of thanatos!reader who also had wings. It’s probably a coincidence so it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to say pls don’t plagiarize or take ideas without giving credit (only if it isn’t an original idea ofc)

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan series #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy series #pjo tv show #pjo series #demigods #thanatos

[jhuzen]

Small brainrot--

Zhongli: You always seemed to get injured when I accompany you on your commissions, is there something wrong? Have I done something to cause this? Please, talk to me...

Reader: My love, darling, sweetheart, I swear it's not that deep. I keep getting hurt because I'm distracted staring at your ass-

-Morax

distractions [gn/m.reader]

AAAAAAAAAA MORAX ANON PULLING THRU WITH A GOOD ZHONGLI BRAINROT! i planned to make just me also brainrotting but here’s a quickie HAHDHSJDCJD. i had so much fun making this LMAO

𖦹 kinda crack lmao, degenerate reader 😭

He was hypnotic.

Zhongli, as your dearest beloved, exceeded your expectations far more than you could ever imagine. He was all too good! An absolute gentleman, completely attuned to your needs and would never lead you down into a path of agony and harm. He was always there, perhaps almost always there, considering that his job as the consultant at the funeral parlor was the only thing keeping him away from you 24/7.

You had no doubts that this man is absolutely enamored with you, tailing you around like a loyal dog when you’re out in your errands. And by these errands, often they are commissions posted by certain people, asking the bravest souls out there to get rid of a few pests loitering around in Liyue.

You were perhaps one of the most sought out bounty hunters in the field. And while you weren’t directly affiliated with world renowned Adventurer’s Guild, you still were often dragged into their commissions, as adventurers personally had to come and ask for your help in the middle of your afternoon tea to track down some pesky ruin guards that indiscriminately attacks everything in its sight.

People may have fretted at the sight of any ruin machine that they came across their paths, but to you, they were the quickest way to earn a lot of mora as having Zhongli for a lover doesn’t come cheap, the man basically buys anything that catches his eye, and the fact that he’s absolutely atrocious in bargaining with you barely excelling at it as well, you’re bound to constantly have enough on you for his spending exploits. Suffice to say, you were the apex predator of these machines, constantly on the hunt for them.

Though that did not seem to apply as you winced for the tenth time at this very moment.

How lucky was it that you were nearby Mingyun Village when you took on a certain bounty that was given on you. It offered a million mora as you had to deal with two hulking ruin hunters, aggressive in temperance as it looked to be one of those just seem to lock on to you in sight.

Zhongli was free that day, and offered to come with you. Your endearing lover expressed his concerns when he happened to look over the paper that contained all the details for your target. And to see you deal with those merciless machineries, he couldn’t hold himself back and immediately asked to come with you.

You weren’t one to deny his offer. Zhongli was a warrior god above all and you’ve seen him countless times on the battlefield when the traveler had asked you and him to accompany them on a tedious commission. And on the off chances that you’ve been on a mission with your adoring lover… you’ve noticed one insufferable thing.

He’s far too distracting.

There was a common denominator in every single time you and him went out on a mission; you were always somehow barely escaping death by the skin of your teeth. It was ridiculous. You’d think having Zhongli in the field would inspire you to do better — but no. He distracted you. Him and his graceful movements, the way his shield just granted you unparalleled protection and when he kicks his spear, you could almost shrivel up and just die then and there.

And unfortunately, this one almost had you kicking the bucket.

Blood trails can be seen on the grassy fields as your worried lover hurried to the nearby village. The residents were quick to aid him and had given him the much needed things for your wound treatment. There was a concerning gash on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and Zhongli was damn near in tears as he patched you up.

You failed to hold in a wince as you joked around to lighten the mood, “Guess that hunk of junk was eager to be on me, huh?” You peered up at your lover while you sat on the chair, whose frown never left him as he continued to clean around your still bleeding wound. “Hey, c’mon, don’t look so sad… I just happened to be at the wrong spot, love.”

A tensed silence fell between you and him and even in his unresponsive state, you could feel the worry that emanated from him. And even that was something you felt responsible for, unable to say anything else.

And finally he granted you mercy as he heaved a soft sigh, looking at you with eyes that overflowed with so much concern, “I was so worried… you’ve never been this badly injured before.”

You had no heart to tell him the stupid reason behind your fuck up, so you opted to stay silent.

Zhongli took your silence as remorse for your mistake and only continued to press on, eyebrows furrowing as he caressed your face that had a tad bit of dirt smudged into it, “I never wanted to bring this up… but it seems as though every time I accompany you on your hunting missions, you always seem to end up getting hurt far more than when you worked alone…”

You hated where this was going but did not bother protesting, you know trying to get ahead of him is a losing battle, “Is… Is it me? Have I done something to cause this? Am I perhaps lacking in providing you protection? Please…” his words were soft as he pleaded, amber eyes meeting you with a hint of desperation. “Please tell me… I must know what led up to this point. I don’t want to realize things when it’s much too late.”

Stupidity pounced on you as Zhongli expressed his dissatisfaction. This is awful. You felt the guilt seep through your veins when your precious lover was unloading so much of his scorn all for a reason so stupid.

But then again, your dignity was always a notch lower than your love in a list of priorities. You can only hope the man doesn’t hurl his giant meteor at you once you do tell him the reason.

“Don’t… be mad,” you started and immediately grimaced at his pointed stare. Right. Never patronize a worried lover. With your good arm, you pulled him by the waist, looking up at him with a small grin, “It’s not that deep. I promise you. Though, yes, to an extent, my subpar performance has something to do with you.”

Your grip around his waist tightened when you felt him bristle at your words, almost close to pulling away. You quickly fished him out of his misery as you continued, “Forgive my crudeness… but you have been a distraction for me when you join me on my missions…”

“Pardon?”

“Your…” you coughed a little as a light blush dusted your cheeks, “You… uh, how do I put this delicately… you present a rather delectable view on certain angles when you fight.”

Yet another blanket of silence enveloped the both of you, but you broke out a sweat as Zhongli slowly processed your words. The frown on his face suddenly deepened and it was only now or never before he hurls the meteor at you and kills you for good.

Zhongli jolted as your hand brushed against his fine ass and gave the supple area a little squeeze. You bargained for an ounce of mercy with that charming grin of yours.

The former archon sighed with a loaded indignation. He wonders sometimes how on earth can you be a bounty hunter with that kind of reckless attitude. “You… you are impossible.” He murmurs with the intention to chide you but even you can hear the embarrassment in his tone.

“Aw c’mon! It’s not too bad!” You cackled as the atmosphere between you cleared. You gave him one last wink before going in for another squeeze, prompting him to smack your wounded shoulder out of instinct, making you keel over, pressing your head against his stomach.

“Ah! My apologies, are you—?”

“Yep. All good. I deserve it.” You managed through a pained groan.

And you took one last chance at life and gave yet another squeeze.

“Yep. All good. I deserve it.” You managed through a pained groan.

And you took one last chance at life and gave yet another squeeze.

Whether or not you passed out from the pain or Zhongli’s meteor, you’ll never know. This was your punishment after all. One you would gladly take head on.

“Yep. All good. I deserve it,” you managed with a pained groan.

And you took one last chance at life and gave yet another squeeze.

Whether or not you passed out from the pain or Zhongli’s meteor, you’ll never know.

#fun fact; og title of this is cake #my fave zhongzhong scenario #thank u morax anon #u have no idea how much ily and ur ideas #keep em coming #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gn reader #zhongli x male reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli x reader #jhuzen’s stupid scenarios #jhuzen’s stupid one shots

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

joker out in oslo 17/03 gig report time! this is long so under a read more. have some footage from my terrible phone and not very good angle :)

while waiting in the queue we were right next to the door and they all came past us to get in. vita, damon, and a woman i assume is sadie sink (with a big suitcase) got locked out and waited for ages and were joined by nace, bojan, and jure. jan came on his own a few minutes later and was also locked out.

regnvær and hearts were really good! at one point, the lead singer of regnvær started playing a song in the wrong key on his guitar and took three tries to get it right. the lead singer of hearts kept saying "yoker out" in a strong swedish accent. they both knocked over mic stands as well it was very chaotic

the security guard was VIBING to the dj between acts it was so funny! he sang along to barbie girl what an icon

now the actual show:

my first thoughts as they came on stage: holy fuck jan is beautiful. NACE GLASSES! bojan's outfit?!?!?!

the stage was too small for the cool props and i couldn't see jure most of the time sadly

bojan did a whole speech about how he'd learnt how to say hello/good day in norwegian (god dag) and joked about it sounding like good dog, and he patted nace while saying it

at one point, nace was at the front of stage and jan came up behind him and pretended to try to push him off and they had a little mock fight while playing it was adorable!! yeah they janced a lot... every time they looked at each other they couldn't stop grinning or making faces at each other

lots of really good krisjan and krisnace moments tonight as well! kris sidled up to nace in ona and jan got in the way again but this time to play with kris. other than this i didn't really see much of kris though

someone get bojan some glasses because every time he tried to read a sign in the crowd he squinted so hard

before vkv someone had a sign that said they'd ask out their crush if they played padam and bojan said he would as kiki gave him his guitar. then they were like 'oh i've asked them out now' and bojan joked about not needing to play padam anymore. and he played the chorus but doesn't actually know it so got some of the chords wrong and it was awesome and very funny! then he dedicated vkv to them and said 'i hope your date goes better than that'.

in behind those eyes, jan and nace did a super slow version of their mating dance circling each other. i had wanted bluza but you can tell they really love playing behind those eyes so i still really enjoyed it

bojan dedicated omamljeno telo to a friend from primary school who'd flown from slovenia and had been a fan before joker out actually formed!

nace's glasses flew off in the middle of omamljeno telo right before jan's solo and bojan put them back on for him agdjafhkl

bojan couldn't keep his hands off nace in plastika as usual

bojan did the kakaka in carpe diem like he used to! but jure didn't come out at the end of it and they didn't do the hearts! it was very sad

it was someone's birthday and bojan sang a cute improvised happy birthday to them during umazane misli

literally the whole first half of umazane misli was jan and nace messing around - jan put a tiny fake hand on one of his guitar's tuning pegs and nace high fived it twice. he was turning in to nace to show him the hand and nace turned his bass upright and started playing it like that?

nace and jan just. lay down. in the um karaoke??? and started playing from the floor? NACE FLOWER CROWN! when he sat up and i could see him again i nearly had a heart attack istg.

the tiny fake hands made another appearance while bojan was introducing novi val and jure, nace, and jan all took turns stroking each other's faces with them it was so funny! nace stroked kris with one at one point. jan and nace did a high five with them too!

no pijano tonight sadly. but holy shit jan looks ethereal playing guitar i totally get why nace looks at him all the time lmao

anyway it was awesome and i had an amazing time!!

#joker out #nace jordan #jan peteh #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #jure maček #personal #šta bih ja

[voltronisanobsession]

may i request an Altean!reader (possibly fem) who is also a bodyguard? Im thinking about if King Alfor put them in a pod too to help protect Princess Allura once she came out. im mostly thinking of the princess x bodyguard trope 🤭 but the reader x other paladins are fine too! i can't exactly remember, but i don't think they trained them to fight at the garrison. I think it would be nice if reader helped them at the start with their stances and such.

ty for reading this, regardless of if you get to it ^-^

Being Allura’s Bodyguard Headcanons

I LOVE THIS IDEA😻😻😻 IMMA MAKE THIS A FEM!READER CUZ IM A SUCKER FOR FEMALE GUARDS 🤪🤪 this feels all over the place BUT IGNORE IT

This feels a little weird though, let me know if I did you justice🤨💔

OH MY GOSH BODYGUARD READER???

UM YES PLEASE

If you were put to sleep with Allura and Coran, that means Alfor REALLY trusted reader

You probably trained to be Allura’s guard specifically as you both grew up

So that means you were around each a lot as children and teens

I think reader might be a year or two older than Allura, so in a way you grew to be protective of the younger girl, naturally

She was always able to confide in you no matter what, whether it was about a problem that bothered her or complaining about her potential suitors

I think because y’all spent so much time together, a little crush might form between yall

But being her bodyguard, you knew you had a duty to uphold and couldn’t let silly feelings get in the way of that (much to her dismay)

You would always playfully roll your eyes whenever she tried using a pickup line on you

When you guys wake up from the pods, despite your drowsiness, you’re immediately at Allura’s side, pushing away the weird creature with round ears from her

Like your sword is drawn out and pointed to Lance, ready to attack if the group in front of you poses themselves as a threat

Yeah, the group decides that it’s best to take several steps away from you LMAO

You’re always by Allura’s side no matter what, the princess being your main priority

You’re kinda like her shadow, always standing guard, waiting for the unexpected

I think reader would begin falling hard for the Allura (much to her delight) when she saves her from a life or death situation

The whole point of being her bodyguard was to protect her, but seeing how she risked her own life to drag you to safety made your heart flutter

Like no one had ever done that for you😭

You were taught and trained to fight for yourself, trained to protect others

So Allura being the one protecting you led you down in a spiral

And it’s a QUICK spiral, may I add

You begin seeing the princess in a different light

The way not a single hair moves from its placement when she’s fighting, whether it be training or when out on a mission, entranced you

You admired the way she demanded attention with just her presence alone

And Allura notices these changes AHH

Like this girl is internally screaming when you gently take her hand when you’re trying to bring her away from any danger

I like to think Allura would be flirty with her bodyguard lowkey

They’re used to each other from the years of being together so this isn’t an odd occurrence

But things do change when you begin turning pink whenever she uses her dumb pickup lines

It’s gotten to a point where the princess was able to beat you in a duel for the first time when she randomly blurted one out

(You claimed that you were feeling a little sick that day lol)

Even despite the fun flirting and knowing looks shared between you two, you would still be hesitant to start an actual relationship with Allura

You have so much respect for the passed King Alfor that you want to continue being the bodyguard for his daughter

You feel like you might be betraying his trust if you start pursuing his daughter

Coran would tell you to go for though if you talk to him about it

He knew Alfor best, so hearing him say that the king would want you and Allura to be happy, you immediately go to the princess

You confess and she’s just jumping on you in pure joy cuz FINALLY

The rest is HISTORY as you guys finally pursue each other AHHH

You’re a much more gentler bodyguard, you’re less tense when out of the castle and honestly just enjoying every moment with Allura

Instead of protecting Allura, you both fight along side each other

The respect you guys have for the other is just so UGH!!! If Allura wants to fight her own battles, you watch from a close distance

Honestly you guys make each other better I can’t even

And because you’re less intense now that you’re with Allura, you treat the team with much more patience

Since they had no idea how to fight at first (most of them at least), you offer to train them

Altean style😍

They wouldn’t take you seriously at first, except Shiro, until you bodyslam Keith to the ground when he gets too cocky with his attacks

After that, they take training very seriously LMAO

You taught Shiro and Keith how to fight efficiently when in close range, showing them fighting techniques that they could also use if they don’t have their weapons

You teach Hunk and Lance how to properly use their guns, showing them the right positions to hold their weapons as to not injure themselves

And with Pidge, you show her how to use her weapon in general because of how unique it is compared to the others weapons

They grow to become strong fighters, you may even shed a tear, happy you were able to help them

You’re still able to demolish them even after everything you all have been through though

Every now and then you guys hold a tournament to see whose the best fighter, you still winning most of the times

Except when you go against Lance for some reason, he’s a slippery one you need to keep an eye on💀

You grow to care for everyone in your own way, vowing to protect them when if it ever came down to it

Being Allura’s bodyguard is honestly a very rewarding duty

She appreciates everything you do and risk to keep her safe, and she promises to do the same for you

I also think you’re the voice of reason for her cuz y’all remember when they went through that dimension jumping portal? And how Allura believed those Alteans were the same ones she knew

You would be there to let her down gently, even comforting her after that entire ordeal happens

You’re her rock, being an emotional support for the princess whenever she needs it

Out of the entire team, I’m like 99% sure that bodyguard!reader is the greenest flag out of everyone

Allura won the lottery honest, her bodyguard being her lover😫😫😫‼️‼️

You’re always by her side, through thick and thin, no matter what happens to you guys

Loyalty is literally your middle name heehee

#allura x reader #voltron allura x reader #Allura Voltron x reader #voltron x reader #vld x reader #voltron legendary defender x reader #voltron legendary defender #x reader #voltron #vld #allura vld #vld allura #vld headcanons #voltron headcanons #headcanons #allura #voltron allura

[morgandoesstuffsig]

surprise attack hugs! [omori.]

alt. title; surprising the RL!Sextet (6) by hugging them when they're least expecting it.

warnings/tws; suggestive-spoilers during MARI's part.

req. by; none

chars. used; HERO, MARI, SUNNY, AUBREY, BASIL, KEL.

song of the day; Hug Me - Pharrell Williams & Trey Parker

a/n's; yes i used a despicable me song, what are you gonna do about it? also, platonic or romantic? up to you to decide.

by continuing from this point on you understand that it is your fault if you see any opinions that you do not agree with and that make you mad. you will not take it out on me or anyone else who enjoys/agrees with them, and you especially will not do anything illegal/dangerous to them or myself.

images do not belong to me and belong to their rightful owners.

HERO.

i couldn't find a header for him D:

Ah yes, that one man who always seems to have nearly everything under control... but he really doesn't.

He's quite easy to fluster, as long as you know how to.

It's quite funny and ironic, actually. He's flirtatious with those he's close with (and has nearly the same age with.)

He never misses a beat, but when he does, it's usually 'cause he's either stressed or thinking about something.

Either way, that is your time to strike!

Hug him from behind as he's thinking and he'll jump out of surprise.

He'll whip his head towards you, already blushing also out of surprise.

Give him a wink and a smug smile, and he'll be hiding his flushing-red face behind his hands, mumbling god-knows-what in them.

Pull him closer to you and dude will pass the fuck out.

He has no idea how to respond, and you haven't even said anything yet.

(if you do say something, whisper it in his ear, it'll make him explode.)

in the end, he's frozen stiff in your arms.

if you let go for some odd reason, the "effects" don't immediately wear off, but give him a minute or two. or three. maybe four.

well however long, he'll probably still be blushing 'till the day's over.

he's so cute grrr

222 words.

MARI.

woah how'd you catch her off-guard???

like????

she always seem(ed)s to be ready for everything

so when you manage to give her a surprise hug, she's obviously not prepared for it.

just dont do it by the stairs.

she'll turn around rather quickly, so you'd better be holding on before you fall down!

if you don't fall down, great! she can easily hug you back, just 10x harder <3

if you do fall down, worry not! the great MARI will catch you!

probably catches you in one of those dip-like positions you see in dance moves or those dramatic romance movie scenes

if so,

expect kisses <333 (w/ consent ofcofc,, she's a respectful queen <333)

then she'll help you up and hug you tighter

probably says somethings like 'oh my, you startled me darling! next time please give me a warning!'

all in all, respectful and pretty queen<333

151 words.

SUNNY.

waaah i couldn't find a header for him either :(

dude is spacing out every 30 seconds,,, you can easily surprise hug him nearly 98% of the time

just run up behind him, and hug him!!

it's that simple

my dude probably jumps, flinches, and stiffs up in that order

just be like 'surprise, it's me!!' and he'll calm down.

turns around and owlishly blinks at you a couple of times

then he turns back around, small blush covering his cheeks

dude's temperature went from -34°F to 150°C /hj

naur cause dude barely had any body warmth 'till you hugged him

probably gonna stay inside your arms for a bit longer.

he can't help it!! you're just so warm!!

it's your fault for hugging him in the first place!!

just let him indulge in the moment for a bit <3

dont let him fall asleep though, 'cause he will, and then you're stuck there 'till he wakes up again.

lmao tough luck

but hey

at least he's happy.

for once.

169 words.

AUBREY.

OH EM GEE GIRLBOSS PUSSY SLAY QUEEN???

OFF-GUARD?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?

WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS??? (the power of plot, baby /hj)

just like

make sure that before you hug her

she's not ready to attack you with her bat

'cause that'll hurt like a fothermucker

so if she isn't ready to commit 30 charges of aggravated assault and 27 acts of public disruption, go for it!

don't aim for the neck tho lolol

she'll probably throw you off by spinning around so fast

so like

hug her by the stomach/waist

and pull her close

and then

GERMAN SUPLEX

and then put your head on her shoulder, and whisper a small 'hi'

her face is almost as pink as her hair

and you've only said one word

lord help her she is such a tsundere

she'll just like

freeze up for a second

and if you're doing this in front of her friends???

lord expect a really long scolding

even though it's more yelling than scolding

eh, whatever

but doing it in private is your best option

she'll just look away and pat your arm a bit

you two are then left alone in comfortable silence <333

200 words.

BASIL.

bestie he will pass out out of pure fear /hj

but after he realizes it's you,, he'll just be flustered

i mean, he could never even imagine having the courage to do that to someone

especially not you /pos..???

but that's just him

back to the point,,,

you,, are hugging,,, him,,, willingly???

he's so confused

he doesnt know why but

he still likes it anyways

he'll let out a nervous laugh before giving your arm(s) a little squish

in return for the hug, ofc

he knows its not much but

it's still something

and something is better than nothing!!

100 words.

KEL.

i was too lazy to find a real header😋

yeah this man

he loves hugs

but surprise hugs,,,

he will marry you if he gets these at least once a day

i mean, how could he not?

his love/crush is willingly hugging him, and as a surprise!!

who doesn't love surprises????

he does, for sure, and if you do creep up and hug him

he'd be elated!

he'll spin around and hug you right back immediately!

just be careful if it's after he finishes playing basketball

he'll probably be sweaty

like

really

sweaty

and stinky

so be prepared!!!

but overall, hug him as much as you want, he just loooovesss hugs in general!

113 words.

THE END.

FANDOMS MASTERLIST

REQUEST GUIDELINES

#x reader #omori #omori basil #omori sunny #omori hcs #omori headcanons #omori x reader #basil x reader #kel x reader #kel omori #omori kel #real world kel #sunny x reader #omori aubrey #aubrey x reader #real world aubrey #real world hero #omori hero x reader #hero x reader #omori mari #mari x reader #real world mari #not a request #i hate tags #requests open #morgan.died : writes

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Healing

Summary: A quiet night in after escaping what should have been certain death in Kansas city turns into a nightmare when you wake up to find out your sister had been infected.

(future) Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Rating: M

Warnings: SPOILERS for Episode 5 of The last of us, angst, (little fluff though?), character death, implied suicide thoughts, blood, does have kind of a happy end though

A/N: This came to me after watching the latest episode of The last of us. I am not saying this could turn into a series. But you should know me by now lmao Thank you @psychedelic-ink for reading over this for me 💜

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new updates

A part of Joel still could not believe they made it out of Kansas City unharmed and alive. All of them. His sole focus should have been on Ellie. Getting her out of there. Getting her to the fireflies. But he wanted to keep you safe too. You and your sister.

You were joining them on their way to find Tommy.

Even if they walked all day it would take weeks until they were even close to finding him. 

He had been taken off guard that night you had found them, holding your gun pointed against Ellie before you asked him for help. And while his first instinct was to shoot you, he couldn’t deny that you were… beautiful.

He jumped out of reflex, his hand finding his gun when you walked back in. 

When you had come to the abandoned motel and settled the girls down in the room next door you had told him that you had to use the bathroom, taking your backpack with you. You gave him a weak smile as you settled down across from him on the floor. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. He tilted his head. 

“For getting us out of there. You didn’t have to,” you said, opening your backpack to look for something to eat. You smiled when you found some grapes that had surprisingly survived the journey. You got up and handed them to Joel who looked at you with a strange expression. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his finger brushing over yours as he took the grapes from you. You smiled softly, nodding once before you turned around to your makeshift bed. 

Your smile widened when you heard the girls next door giggle. You hadn't heard your sister laugh in a long time.

You didn’t notice Joel watching you as you prepared your bed and got out of your boots before you laid down. 

You sighed, closing your eyes before you turned to your side. 

Joel had turned the light off, his silhouette only visible by the moonlight shining through the dirty windows. 

“Do you ever wonder how your life would be if the outbreak hadn’t happened?” you asked after a while, not even sure if he was still awake. 

“Not really,” he said after a while. 

“I wonder about it all the time. I was barely sixteen when it happened. I wonder where I would work now. If I’d still be friends with the people I went to school with. I wonder if I would have experienced real love even once,” you whispered. 

“You’ never been in love?”

“I’m... not sure,” you answered after a while. You heard him shift on the floor. 

“You’d know if you had been, trust me.”

“What’s it like?” you asked. You heard him sigh. 

“You can’t stop thinking about the person you love. Ever. Fucking sucks,” he groaned and you chuckled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly, ignoring the way you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Joel since the moment you had seen him for the first time. 

“Sleep. We got a long way to go tomorrow,” he said. 

“Good night,” you whispered, falling asleep within minutes, missing how Joel got up to cover you with his jacket to keep you warm. 

It happened too fast. 

You were abruptly woken up by Ellie’s scream before the door burst open and you watched with wide eyes as your baby sister attacked the other girl. Your gun was out and pointed towards the girls on the floor, Ellie fighting against your baby sister. 

The screech that came out of your sister’s mouth would haunt you forever. 

“Don’t,” you heard Joel say but you were blinking your eyes to try to make sense of what you were seeing. Ellie was screaming, trying to get your sister off of her. She was just trying to sink her teeth into Ellie and before you realised what you did, your finger had pulled the trigger, the gunshot abruptly bringing silence into the room. 

You watched the blood pool beneath the body of your sister, unable to realise what you just did. You blinked your eyes a couple of times, the gun in your hand shaking as it still pointed towards where Ellie was now looking at you with tears running down her cheeks.

“Don’t,” your head snapped to the side, your eyes finding Joel’s, your gun still pointed to where you just had shot your baby sister. 

Joel was looking at you, his hands in front of his body in a calming manner. As if he was approaching a wild animal. 

You shook your head, your eyes wide. 

“I… I …. I….” you stuttered, the gun shaking in your hands. You began to turn your head back to look at her when Joel snapped you out of it, snipping his fingers. 

“Do not look at her, look at me,” he said. You shook your head, your lips trembling. 

“What did I just do?” you asked yourself, your voice breaking. 

Joel said your name and your eyes found his. 

“Put down the gun,” he said, taking a careful step towards you but your fingers only grabbed the cold metal of the gun harder, your finger aching from how tight you were gripping it. 

No matter where you looked, all you saw was how you shot your sister. The sister you had protected from a whole city for weeks. 

The only family you had left on this god forsaken planet. 

You wanted the pictures to stop. Your eyes wandered to the gun in your hand. 

You could make it stop. You could make the pictures stop. You could make it all stop. You just had to….

Joel said your name again and you looked at him. 

“Please don’t,” he said pleadingly, taking another step closer and this time you loosened your grip, tears filling your eyes. 

“I killed her,” you whimpered. 

You turned your head but before you could look at her again Joel was there, one of his hands pulling the gun out of yours, his other hand turning your head so you had to look at him. 

“You saved us. You saved us all,” he said, and then his other hand was on the other side of your head, making you look at him and only him. 

“I killed her,” you sobbed, whimpering before you broke down. Before you could hit the floor Joel had pulled you against him, holding you up as you broke down in his arms. 

“I know,” he whispered against your ear. 

“I’m here,” he mumbled and your fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, crying against him. 

“I’m here.”

You were kneeling at your sister's grave, your tears dried, but your heart broken. She had her whole life in front of her. You would never see her grow up. You would never see her smile again. You would never talk to her again. 

Ellie knelt down next to you, putting her writing pad on top of the grave, the words I’m sorry written on it. 

You looked at her briefly as she got back up. 

“What direction is west?” she asked. 

“There,” Joel said from behind you and you closed your eyes, breathing in deeply. You wondered if there would ever come a day where you wouldn’t hurt. Where you wouldn’t feel guilty anymore. 

You got back up on your feet, slapping the dirt off your knees as you briefly looked at Joel. 

He was looking after Ellie. 

“Will it ever stop hurting?” you asked. His eyes found yours before he looked down at his watch. 

“No,” he finally said and you nodded. 

He looked after Ellie, a strange expression on his face.

You didn’t know who he lost, but you knew whoever it was must have been important to him. 

“But it will get better, if you allow yourself to heal,” he said as he looked back up at you. He bent down, picking up his backpack and jacket, putting it on. 

“How do you allow yourself to heal?” you asked. 

“I don’t know but I think I’m ready to find out,” he said and you swore his lips barely twitched upwards into what could be considered a smile before he walked past you and followed Ellie. 

You took one last look at your sister's grave, before you grabbed your backpack which now also contained hers. And then you turned around, taking step after step into a new future. 

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #tlou #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[stardewstardropthoughts]

Ilysm but unfortunately I have some angst, sorryyyyy. Would you do how the Bachelors would react to the farmer maybe ghosting them? It could have a happy ending, though. (I live to torture myself with angst 😳) Tyyyy

I love you too which is why I apologize in advance for this lmao cause it’s all hurt no comfort I’m sorry! I love angst so much, maybe I’ll do another version when I have more energy with a happy ending!

You ghost the bachelors

Elliott:

He doesn’t have many people who support him to begin with, so when you came around and spent so much time with him? He was thrilled

He often awaited for when you would step into his beach house for your daily visit, often carrying little gifts for him, once a bouquet

But now, he holds the wilted bouquet you had asked Leah to give to him for you, a note attached that simply says who it’s from. No reason attached

His heart is breaking as he closes his front door, an apologetic look from Leah the last thing he sees before he’s on the floor, back to the door sobbing into his hands

He had loved you so much, with such a raging passion and zero regard for anyone else, why had you suddenly decided he wasn’t enough?

Why didn’t you come and explain your reasonings yourself instead of sending someone else in your place?

He tried to find you, to talk to you but it was as if you were avoiding his every attempt, turning around and leaving if you saw him at the saloon, avoiding the beach unless absolutely necessary to see willy

He couldn’t fathom what he had done so wrong for you to treat him this way, needles to say he isn’t going to be jumping headfirst into any relationship any time soon

Shane:

How could you do this to my man, my love, my sweet sad chicken man?

He always thought it was to good to be true, that someone as beautiful and vibrant as you would waltz into his life and make his days infinitely better even when he tried to push you away in the beginning

You stayed by his side on some of his darkest days, he could hardly believe when you gave him a bouquet

Now it’s like the world is crashing down around him, the withered bouquet in his hands, you had taped it to his door, not even facing him in person to deliver the blow

He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t really happening, that you wouldn’t just ghost him like this

But then you were avoiding him around town, no longer stopping on his way to work to chat

You wouldn’t answer the door when he would go to the farm to see you, wouldn’t visit marnies shop if you knew he would be home

He had a mermaid pendent in his bedside drawer that he had intended on giving to you on your three year anniversary which had been just a few days later

Spends a lot of his nights sobbing in bed because you broke his heart

Good luck to anyone else who tries to build a relationship with him because now he’s more guarded then before

His days were finally full of color and laughter when you were around, but now it’s a dark grey sea and he feels like he’s drowning all over again

Alex:

He had been out talking to rusty when you had snuck into his house and left the wilted bouquet on his bed, a note attached that said who it was from

Found the wilted bouquet when he had gone in to get some lifting done for the day, he’s never experienced a panic attack prior but he certainly is now

The note has no explanation as to why you’ve decided to tear his heart to shreds like this, and not even with the decency to do it face to face

Goes straight to the farm to ask why you’ve done this, but you aren’t there. Robin who was building you a coop at the time said you were in the mines, but Alex can see the lights on in the farmhouse

You don’t answer the door when he knocks, he scribbles a little note down and slips it under the door, asking what he did and if he can fix it

He never gets an answer, spends the rest of his night to sad in bed to even think about weight lifting

Once again throws all his focus into becoming a professional gridby player, no time for friends or relationships, he needs the distraction so he doesn’t just sit around and cry about you all day

You were the first person he ever thought he could love romantically, after watching his parent’s relationship fall apart he hadn’t believed in love but you changed that

And now he doesn’t believe again

Sam:

Mans a whole golden retriever energy baby why would you do this

Everything was going great in the relationship with you, or so he thought

Because if it was actually going as well as he had thought, he wouldn’t be looking at the wilted bouquet sitting atop his guitar with nothing but your name scribbled on this little note

His eyes are filling with tears immediately, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to upset you recently

Trying to think about why you hadn’t done this in person, why hadn’t you given a reason

Writes you a letter asking why and what was happening, why hadn’t you said something sooner if you were unhappy

You never respond, it seems as if you’ve made yourself disappear all together to him

Your never home when he try’s to visit, you don’t go to the saloon on Friday nights anymore, his friends don’t know what happened either because you don’t talk about him to them

He’s so sad and he doesn’t know what he’s done, he just wanted to be the best he could be for you but now he can’t even do that

Sebastian:

He found the wilted bouquet on his motorcycle one evening when he was going to go for a drive to the cliffs that overlook zuzu city

He had wanted to bring you with him but from what he’s gathered from the evidence in front of him, your not going to be going

He doesn’t really blame you, he knows he’s probably not the best you can do but that doesn’t make it sting any less

Rides out to the cliffs where he can have a nice little breakdown in private

He does want answers though, so he spends almost two weeks trying to track you down, to no avail

It’s almost like your avoiding him on purpose, you never visit robins shop if you know he’s home, don’t visit sams when you know they have practice, you avoid him at all the festivals

He’s hurt, it took a lot of convincing for him to open up to you and now you’ve gone and closed yourself off from him

Lays awake a lot contemplating what could have gone wrong, but he never does get an answer about it

Harvey:

Man, stepping out of his office for a quick breather and having Maru hand him a box addressed from you was a surprise

You don’t often leave packages for him, he takes it back with him and is shocked and saddened to see it’s a wilted bouquet with no explanation as to why you’ve decided to do this

Underneath it is all the little gifts he’s given you over the course of your relationship together

His hands are shaking as he sets it down, he doesn’t understand what’s gone wrong

Closes his office for the rest of the day and sulks in his apartment, tries to call you but you don’t answer

You avoid your annual check up that you had scheduled for a few days later, calling Maru and telling her you’d be in grumpleton then so you’d just have the check up there

He can never seen to catch you when your out and about either to try and get an answer as to why you’ve broken his heart with such little regard for his feelings

He’s had a hard time opening up to people and small talk makes him quite nervous so it had taken so long to break down his walls and then you’ve just abandoned him?

He spends weeks trying to pick apart every interaction you’ve had, trying to figure out where it could have gone wrong, what he could have done to prevent this outcome

In the end he’s left with no answers and a hold in his heart where his love for you use to consume and keep him warm

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew alex #stardew shane #Stardew angst #angst #hurt/no comfort #sdv bachelors #sdv x farmer #sdv angst