#Robert chase oneshot

[heyitstam]

dr. robert chase x reader - the chase itself (smut)

hi guys :D i know i haven't posted in a while, but i recently asked a VERY good friend of mine to cook me a fanfic of this very beautiful man, and HE DELIVERED. like all out jaws on the floor type delivered. i love this man fr, so i'm posting it here with his permission. it's his first fanfic ever, and in my humble professional opinion he overdelivered - so have fun reading this beautiful smut fic of reader and dr. chase <3

I. Humble Beginnings

Taking place in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, New Jersey, you are a fairly new nurse who pursued a medical career in quite a common way. The way being that it was more so your parents’ wish for you to go to medical school than your own, but you don’t necessarily hate that fact; at least it gave you a direction, so to speak.

It’s early in the morning, so there’s not a whole lot going on. You went around doing your usual checkups already and what not, therefore you decide to go on your well deserved coffee break. However, right as you are are on that, and you step out of the cubicle you are in, you glance over to an unfamiliar face through an operating room.

Some would call it love at first sight, but it really is more than that. It’s the kind of tingly sensation no one could forget. It’s almost shameful, but you can’t be bothered by that feeling right now. As if you physically couldn’t take your eyes off of them, you lose all sense of purpose, standing there, unable to think. Suddenly, someone bumps into you, which wakes you up from your total amusement. You feel the need to know more, so as you squint your eyes, you can read their name off of the shirt they are wearing.

“Dr. Robert Chase..?  I need to.. have a talk with him. I just need to.” – you think to yourself, ponderingly.

You go back to working with a saturated mind, unable to concentrate.

II. The Chase Itself

As days go by, you’re quite hesitant to reach out to him, but you seriously feel the need to. Why is that, really, you ask yourself. You ache to even have a talk with him at this point, but you long for more. Way more. You can’t think of anything else.

After contemplating for a good while, you decide to ask around to know what time he gets off from work, since you want to surprise him at the last minute. That’s the only way you see that you could have a one-on-one with him anytime soon.

With that out the way, you now know everything you needed to know. The only thing that divides you from your desire is to actually act up on it, so you gather all your courage. You look at the time, and you’re actually pretty shocked how caught up you were thinking about him. If you don’t hurry then you’re going to miss him that day entirely, so you start sprinting.

You notice him as he is turning around the corner, all dressed up, ready to leave, and you stumble right into him.

“I need to tell you something inside, it’s.. it’s important, alright. And it might just take a while” – you tell him, struggling with your words. “Great. I was just about to leave, you know. Whatever, show me, I don’t have much time for this. Is it really that important?” – he answers abruptly, being quite impatient.

You suddenly catch a rush of excitement. This is all that you were planning for the past few days or so, to get close to him, and it looks like you’re on track.

III. An Uneasy Start

Chase swings open the door of the office he’s just been in, ushering you in and closing the door behind him, since there’s quite the commotion even late into the night, it’s a hospital after all. It’s dark inside, the only light sources being a dim lamp he accidentally left on and the Moon seeping through the closed blinds faintly. The room has a surgical bed, a cabinet behind it with all kinds of training supplies, a desk with an office chair and a hanger stand. He puts his white coat on the stand, then undoes his tie, putting it into his pants pocket in a really apathetic way, with most of it hanging out.

Seemingly being quite contempt with the situation, he sits down onto the office chair, facing you, and he seriously doesn’t look like he wants to be there.

As a last effort at trying to ease up the situation, you grab the glass of water that is sitting on the desk and you splash it at him, in a playful way.  Not surprisingly, this backfires, since he doesn’t seem too happy about, not in the slightest. He stands up from his desk and goes on to wipe off his shirt to make it slightly less messy, all without even muttering a word. You do feel pretty stupid for that.

With another attempt at getting his attention, you arousingly start to cut the strings off of a few upper buttons on your blouse with a surgical knife, as he turns back to you, giving him a snarky look.

“Was that really necessary? What was so important about any of this? Can we get to the damn point?” – he asks you with a loss of temper. “I might have lied about that important thing.” – you answer him not so bravely.

He's visibly frustrated at you, and with a change of demeanor, he stands up and is now closing distance between you in a rush, as you are backing up. He halts as he catches up to you, towering over you.

With both hands on your shoulders, clenching them hard, he asks you, in an almost belittling tone: “Is this what you wanted? “ “I don’t know, is it?” – you answer him in a pretty similar way.

Like the kind of tease you tend to be, you start gliding around your fingertip on his chest, which he.. seems to enjoy, and lets you do for a short while, for then to push you to the nearest wall.

IV. Lust

Fueled by lust, you immediately grab his chin and assertively start kissing him, which absolutely catches him off-guard. In reaction to the advancement on him, he forces your body onto his as he caresses your back. After this goes on for a bit, he grabs you by the thighs, lifts you up and tosses you onto the surgical table.

With your arms behind you, you’re sitting halfway up as your legs are pulled up. You lock eyes while he is still holding you by your thighs. He leans over, drags you closer and is now standing between your legs.

You clumsily unbutton Robert’s shirt, one by one. In contrast, he carelessly tears off a few more of your buttons, making the blouse slide off your shoulders, which then falls onto your lap, flustering you in the process.

He then puts a hand on your lower abdomen, which feels surprisingly soft, even though his hands are quite firm. Most notably, it’s warm. So warm in fact, you feel like you could melt into him, and you are all about that feeling. Starting from your thighs, continuing to your hips, he brushes his both his hands across all the way up to your chest in a painstakingly soft and throughout way, but at the same it’s quite the calm moment.

An intrigued nervousness starts to pile in you as he suddenly starts to unbuckle his belt, which was undoubtedly the loudest noise in the room so far. In the meantime, like the obedient girl you feel like you are, with each rattle, you can't wait to obey. As if you were a household maid, you’re more than ready to satisfy the head of the house, as if he shook a bell around.

He tosses aside his pants and boxers and you feel like you can’t catch up with your heavy heartbeats as he rests his rigid cock on your stomach. It all just feels so sudden, and it’s starting to grow on you in a pleasurable way. He goes onto removing your bra, while you’re simultaneously stroking him slowly and briefly, before he goes down on you again.

You can feel it throb against you, and it’s just as, if not hotter than his hand is, which he has below your stomach again. He needily grinds against you over and over, lifting your skirt up with it every time, and rubbing against your inner thighs.

He doesn’t wait around before removing your panties, which are drenched by this point, and neither does he wait to penetrate you, as he is inside you now.

“Maybe I did need this.. “ - you hear him talk out loud quietly.

At once, as he is slowly, but forcefully thrusting into you, you see him pulling out the tie out his pocket, which he puts around your neck now, instead of his own.

It’s tightened real well, and he’s gripping it by the base, close to your neck. In the meantime he’s constantly pulling on it upwards, as it’s digging into the back of your neck, scraping your chin against it’s band, making your head tilt backwards considerably. With every moan you make, he tightens more on it, leaving your neck all bruised up. As he is fucking you, you’re nails deep in the sheets. You can’t help yourself but feel pleasured.

As he’s starting to get rougher on you, you begin to develop second thoughts and try to resist him, but as you’re doing that, he immediately tugs you closer, rendering your attempt futile. As you look at him, he seems to be way too into this, as his eyes lose all focus and glare, and you can only watch as his control over himself fades, railing you without a care in the world. This creates even more neediness in you, as you cross your legs behind his back, clinging onto him.

You can barely even keep your eyes on him, and you’re not even resisting his pull on your neck anymore, so you fully commit into tilting you head back in joy. All this sexual fulfillment demands you to do so, as you are slipping out of control more by the second. You feel like you could finish at any time, and as he’s also getting close, he’s painfully grazing your stiff walls more and more, with your moans sounding pitifully more helpless.

Ejaculating with a quiet grunt, he blasts the majority into you, leaving two strings across all the way up your body, all for you to feel ecstatic about. You really do feel like you owned up to it with your services, as if it was his way of rewarding you. Not to forget about you, he pushes you over the edge too, as you’re desperately gripping his shoulders. No matter you could barely take a break after your climax, he leans closer over your stimulation filled shivering body, and goes for a deep passionate kiss. Not even bothered by the fact you are still desperately panting and gasping for air along with him.

V. Not So Aftercare

After standing up from the bed, he comfortably hugs you by your hips, to which you endearingly put your hands onto his. After romantically rocking you slightly around with his hug, he leaves his hands off of you to start dressing up. It’s getting quite late.

As he is about to button back his shirt, he looks at you still standing there, still looking a bit shocked from everything that happened so far. Deciding to help out, he steps besides you, getting your bra back from your bed, and putting it on you. He’s slowly buckling the back together, and you are simply just unable to look him in the eyes, since you're becoming increasingly shy in a sudden way, blushing like you never have before.

"You.. didn't have to, you know.." - you tell him in a higher pitch voice.

You really enjoy his care, it does fill you with joy. Then you reach out for your panties, but as you are pulling them up, he slides his hands under yours, taking the lead again, which surprises you even more. You are so overwhelmed with emotions at this point, you shake right into his hand as he pulls it all the way up, giving you a slight friendly chuckle, and blowing you a kiss right above the lining of your briefs, gaining him an immediate gasp from you. You're truly mesmerized by him.

He continues dressing himself, and as you calm down, you rush into his arms, facing his chest. He caresses and pets your face and head with one arm, for him to go onto groping your ass, and going down to your thighs. His hand lifts your skirt away from time to time, letting colder air in. After he finishes clothing up, he swings you to his other side and pushes you right to the desk.

“I need more of you. I need to feel you in more ways.” – he tells you with a shaky voice.

You almost even stumble, and with an utterly scared look on your face, you glance at him. Without precaution, he pushes you down onto the floor. You look down onto your legs. Your knees are together and your feet are far apart, completely side-tracking you. You even put your hands on your knees in a cute way, but as you lift your head, his cock gets into view, poking through his pants fly, which takes you aback.

Your first and immediate reaction is to press your lips all around him, kissing and licking his shaft as it pumps against your mouth. After growing tired and wanting more, he puts his thumb in your mouth, and with a few fingers latching onto your chin, he pushes downwards on your jaw. With closed eyes, you stick out your tongue, waiting for him to enter. He lets go off of his fingers from your face, following up with exactly what you expected. It feels way bigger than what you anticipated, leaving your mouth sore in the first minute, already. He’s being frantic with you, mouth fucking you without relent. You’re huffing for air as you whimper, but you aren’t getting any. You start to sob as he goes deeper down your throat. As you move your tongue in a swing like motion, from side to side, you circle the bottom of his shaft as he shoves himself in an out. You soak his cock with your saliva, blending with his precum. No matter how much of it you gulp down, It’s flowing out your mouth.

Resting his elbows and head above you on the desk, he looks down at the top of your head, as you suck him off. From the table, as he rocks you around, all kinds of documents fly off. Not that he cares, really.

Without even telling, he comes into your mouth, throbbing against your lips. You stomach it all as you look up to him, initiating eye contact, and smiling. After spewing out his cock, you grab it by the base and gently rub it off with a napkin. He pulls his zipper up, and kneels down. He parts your hair slightly and greets your forehead with a last smooch.

Looking back at you for the final time, he waves at you, winks in a mocking, yet sweet way and leaves though the door. You can only wish to meet soon in a similar fashion.

VI. Reflection

You’re at a loss of thoughts. He’s been so careful, yet so careless with you at the same time, and that’s just messing with your brain right now, so you lean your head against the desk, you close your eyes and give into the bliss once again.

Even after he left, you’re sitting in the dark, in the same position he left you in, with his tie still around your neck. You feel embarrassed, but you can’t help yourself as you take in the scent of his tie, pleasuring yourself through your clothes, while thinking about him. He has a hold on you, and you know that well.

[kiddbegins]

Braids - Robert Chase

Requested: no

Word count: idk

Warnings: none

A/n: this was something I wrote for a fic that I never wrote for someone else but here we are. (Can you guess who?)

Masterlist

“Please Robbie?” You sat with your legs crossed, as your dorky boyfriend entered the living room, a cup of coffee and a cup of tea in his hands.

“What exactly did you want? I could barely hear you over the coffee dispenser.” Chase handed the warm cup of tea to you who raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t quite believe him but still, you repeated herself, “Can I please braid your hair? It’s the perfect length!” You reached up, tucking a piece behind his ear before he sat next to you.

That was not the first time Robert Chase had been asked that question. You have been nagging him since she first started at the hospital. “Baby, I really don’t like my hair messed with.” He replied, pulling his feet onto the couch.

“Buuuuut I wouldn’t be messing with it. It’ll be perfectly braided. And I’ll undo it after.” You gave a wide smile. And how could he say no to a smile that genuine?

With a sigh, Chase slid onto the floor in front of you. “Wait really? I honestly thought you were gonna say no.” You gasped happily as he nodded. Instantly you bolted to the bathroom to grab a brush and elastics.

Chase watched as you excitedly sat back down, beginning to section his hair. “Okay maybe this is a little soothing.” He murmured, leaning his head back onto her lap.

“As cute as you are, your head needs to be up for me to be able to braid.” Chase huffed, adjusting to the position you needed.

He held his eye closed, taking a sip of his coffee every couple of seconds. “Done.” You wrapper her arms around his shoulders, pressing your cheek to his. “Wait, wait. Stay here.” You slid your slippers on, running outside.

There were small bushels of white flowers outside the building that you picked before jogging back inside. “Okay hang on sit back down.” You put your hands on his shoulders, twisting the stems into his hair.

“Okay. Finished.” You took a quick picture, leaning down to show him.

He gasped, grabbing the phone. “Oh, my god. You have to promise to never show this to House.” He exclaimed causing both of you to laugh, him falling back into your stomach.

“Okay I promise.”

JOIN CHASE’S TAGLIST HERE!

Tags: -

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[pomegranateshrimp]

⚕️Finding you in the break room having a panic attack. (1)

Oneshot, Fluff, Comfort

James Wilson x Gn!reader

omg this gif of him>>

——————————————————

You worked on Houses team, and you were used to his usual berating of you and witty insults but today, today was different. Maybe he didn’t have the Vicodin. Maybe that was it. You didn’t know. Truthfully you didn’t care. What he said to you can’t just be blamed on his addiction. It truly shook you to your core, ringing in your ears as tears well up in your eyes. You were going to crack and didn’t want anyone else watching you while you did. You took your break early and marched into the break room. You didn’t have much time, as House didn’t give his team members any. But you decided to use what you had to just cry.

No one else was in the room, just you alone with your thoughts. You sat at the seat farthest from the door, in case anyone walked in, and you just started sobbing uncontrollably. Tears flowing out of you, spilling over your lash-line. You couldn’t stop them. You just kept thinking about what he said.

You killed the patient! You killed them and it’s all your fucking fault!

Your hands reached up to your head and you sulked. Your brain was going a million miles a minute. Was I cut out to work here? Should I just quit? House definitely seems to want me gone and I’m not exactly—

Your thinking was interrupted by the door swinging open lightly, and a familiar oncologist entering with a smile on his face and his lunch in his hand. He looked up and his cheery, warm, comfortable look on his face was replaced with one of worry.

“L/n? Are you okay?” The kind man quickly took a seat next to you, only wanting to help in any way he could.

You nodded wiping the tears from your eyes and returning to a stoic expression, acting as if you hadn’t been bawling a second ago; although Wilson could tell something was up.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned down a bit to try and look up at you, to just see what you were feeling, to try and understand and help. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you. Bless his heart, you had barely known the man and he was the person who was there for you the most.

“House yelled at me..” you mumble hoping he wouldn’t hear, tears pulling at your eyes again. You felt humiliated on so many levels, even if you knew Wilson’s intentions.

“What’d he say?”

You took a deep breath before continuing, making sure you didn’t break down mid-sentence.

“That I killed a patient. Except a lot worse than that.”

Wilson put a hand on your shoulder.

“Listen, I know House can be difficult, believe me, but you’re an amazing doctor, and an even better person. House is just dealing with his own stuff right now and wants to make other people just as miserable as he is. You didn’t kill anyone. Okay?”

You looked up finally and stared into his glossy kind eyes. You broke down, you couldn’t stop it but his kindness was so welcoming and you were running out of time on your break and you needed to let it out. You knew House would scold you if he knew you were crying like a bitch about his ‘light hearted jokes’. As if you were possessed, your body lunged forward and wrapped your arms tight around James, taking him by surprise and almost knocking the breath out of him. Despite his shock he welcomed you into his arms, letting your head rest on his chest. Everyone in the hospital knew about his endless string of flings with the staff, but right now, you didn’t care. He could’ve just been trying to get in your pants sure, but he wasn’t that kind of man. At least if he was, he did a good job at hiding it. He made you feel loved and cared for more than anyone else in this moment. And you adored every second of it.

As you soaked his shirt with your tears he brought a hand up from your back to your hair and started, not exactly playing, but more petting your hair. Not in a creepy way, just in a soothing way. He was trying to calm you down, and it was working. His other hand making small circles on your back as he whispered into your ear sweet phrases:

Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here for you.

And he really was.

A/N: oh em gee im so sry for not posting more 😭 Ik this was short but I hope it’s okay! reminder my requests are open (pls). ALSO I’m gonna do a part 2 so if you’ve made it this far, tysm for reading! Which character do you want to see in part 2?

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[y13evie]

masterlist

smut is tagged with ☆

harry potter:

call of duty:

könig

first time w könig blurb ☆

sub! könig riding blurb ☆

simon ‘ghost’ riley

rough mission? give your bf some head! ☆

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish

john price

lust for life (professor price x student reader) ☆

alejandro vargas

alejandro vargas x thiccckkkk reader ☆

philip graves

oneshots + hcs

141 + könig react to you wearing thigh highs ☆

141 + könig, alejandro,n rudy with thick thighed s/o

141 + alejandro rudy konig graves with plus size s/o

house m.d:

dr gregory house

robert chase

your houses kid and he just wants to treat u good

james wilson

u just wanna have fun but james is mean :(

clear your mind ☆

allison cameron

house is spying on you, cute lovey dovey w my girl

spider-man atsv:

miguel o’hara

a jealous man ☆

riding miguel drabble ☆

brat ☆

hobie brown

music to his ears ☆

peter b. parker

miles morales

earth 42! miles x reader fluff

pavitr prabhakar

the outer banks:

rafe cameron

[dearestro]

Robert Chase Miniseries

Disclaimer: Let’s just forget the whole Chameron thing because it sucked and while we are at it let's just slam Chase's slut era to before they get together? Timeline probably isn't right at instances.

Summary: A collection of oneshots (in order) of the life of Robert Chase and Reader. (Idk this is a whim, and I'm in a Wilson rut)

Table of Contents(?)

Wedding Night Excitement - Summary: Who knew a slip of the hand could lead to this?

Honeymoon Surprises - Summary: Both you and your husband have something special planned for the trip.

Beach Activities - Summary: What happens on the beach stays on the beach...at least according to your husband.

New Beginnings - Summary: The start of a new chapter.

Icecream Sundaes - Summary: Who knew icecream could be dangerous?

Saturday Mornings - Summary: Even lazy mornings can be exciting...for some people.

Author's Note: Here's what I have so far. Idk you can send ideas in the asks, and I might be able to write/add them.

[ohtobeleah]

Chronos // Robert Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob told you that Chronos carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x Pregnant F!reader. F-18 accident. Medical inaccuracies. Birth. Bob Whump, ANGST. Major character death.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Today is Monday, for most of you it’s Sunday: Please enjoy this oneshot that’s been a work in progress since the 28th of March. ~ Last minute title name change. I’m posting this at 4am my time so blow this up.

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he and his front seater, Natasha Phoenix Trance, fell through the sky in a tin bird designed by man, for man to destroy other men….

That it wouldn't give two shits about them either. 

“Extinguishing right engine!” There were far too many sounds coming from every system possible as Phoenix tried to regain control of the F-18 that seemed impossible to wrangle. All Bob could think about in those utterly terrifying moments was you. 

He’d always made it a promise to come home to you. He knew how much you worried about him, how much the thought of being left behind ping ponged around in your brain. How sometimes you'd stay up all hours of the night hoping that wherever he was and whatever ocean he flew across that he was okay. That he was safe and that he;d come home to you. 

Robert Floyd had made you a promise he had every intention of keeping, but he wasn't so sure he could. 

“Phoenix, Bob! Punch out! Punch out!” Maverick shouted through the comms as he chased the rogue fighter jet down. Bob looked around at all the warnings flashing in his face, there was nothing left to save except themselves. 

“Phoenix there’s warning lights everywhere, we’re in hydraulic failure!” All Bob prayed for in those terrifying moments as his colleagues watched on in pure shock horror from the ground below was that he’d get a chance to tell you he loved you again. 

He always told you that he’d come home, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t. You knew better than to believe Government Property though, Bob knew you knew that there was always a chance. So he promised in the event of his untimely demise that he’d come back to you and wiggle your earlobe. To let you know he made it safe and sound. That you need not worry about him anymore. 

You promised him the same thing, because working from home was just as terrifying as flying a multimillion dollar fighter jet. 

“I can’t control it!” But as the ground grew closer and closer, Bob knew he wasn’t ready to die, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind and he certainly wasn’t ready to not meet his unborn child. 

“We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!” He wasn’t ready to wiggle your ear. 

“You can’t save it! eject, eject!” Maverick shouted again, he was watching on like he’d been sucked into some kind of timeloop. He’d seen this happen before. Only he lost his best friend when to this day he thought it should have been him. 

“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Were the last three words Bob heard escape from Phoenix’s mouth before he was reaching between his legs to pull at the emergency yellow and black striped handle that sent him flying out of the cockpit. He’d been taught how to handle a situation like this, they all had. Every single naval aviator currently on active duty had been taught what to do when they needed to eject. 

But when Bob's head hit the top of the cockpit? He didn’t care for procedures and protocol and what he should or shouldn’t have done in the moment, all he cared about was you and holding on to whatever consciousness he had left as he tumbled through the sky at a rapid pace. Reaching for his parachute in just the nic of time. 

Knowing if he hit the ground where the land had shook and cracked and rose till it spiked the sky that it wouldn’t have given a shit. It wouldn’t have been all that forgiving and it certainly wouldn’t have mourned his untimely demise. 

So Bob faught until he hit the ground with a not so graceful thud, he hit the ground hard—with an almighty groan as his ribs popped and his head throbbed inside his helmet. 

“Ahhh!” He gasped as he clutched at his stomach, forgetting how to breathe as the darkness of tunnel vision claimed its next victim. Unconsciousness overcoming its latest casualty: 

Bob Floyd. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. When you had chuckled out a soft no as his lips trailed up your neck and his slightly calloused hands roamed your body like they knew every inch, Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….

Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

You felt like you'd fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. You tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. You descended into a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t around. 

“Your husband was involved in an accident during a training exercise this afternoon—“. 

At the sound of Pete Maverick Mitchell’s voice explaining that there had been an accident on base during an exercise—you begun to crack, you started slipping further and further into the unknown because Bob had always said he’d never leave and if he did you’d feel him tugging on your earlobe to let you know he got there safe and sound. 

There was no one tugging on your earlobe though, no soul that had passed on or ghostly figure watching over you. What there was though, was a radiating warmth between your legs. A wetness that shouldn't have been there. 

Had your water just broken? 

“Oh—oh god.” You gasped as you looked down, gripping the side of the kitchen island as you groaned out a prolonged, primal moan. You were in labour there was no doubt about it. “Ahh.” 

“Mrs Floyd? Are you alright?” The voice on the other end of the line asked with a confused undertone as you watched the seconds tick past on the ongoing call. 

“I uh—“ You tried to speak, tried to make sense of what you were hearing, what you were experiencing. Pain in every aspect both physically, emotionally and mentally. “I think my water just broke.” 

“Oh—“ Maverick couldn’t suppress his shock nor could he disguise his sudden state of disbelief. “Oh okay, I’ll uh—I'll have an ambulance come by right away.” You replied with a sharp groan. Doubling over as you felt how hard your stomach had truly become. This was happening, everything was happening all at once and you had lost focus in the pain of both worrying about the state your husband was currently in and the fact your baby was on their way. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there very soon, I’m gonna stay on the line with you until they arrive.” 

“I need Bob—“ You’d begun to cry as you kneeled on the kitchen floor before you decided that sitting up against the cabinet with your legs outstretched felt a hell of a lot more comfortable. “I need my husband, I can't do this without him.” You felt warm tears streaming down your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered and another painful contraction rippled through your body. Every fibre of your being ignited in a fireball. “Ahhh—I won’t do this without my husband!” 

On the other side of the phone call that had taken a rather drastic turn, Mav looked to Phoenix who was being wheeled into the awaiting ambulance on the tarmac. Bob was next, Pete didn’t have the heart to tell the Weapons Systems Officer that had just escaped death that his wife, who he hadn’t mentioned to a soul beside Phoenix, that his wife’s water had just broken. 

“Phoenix, hey—“ Pete stopped the medics briefly, they looked at Pete like he was risking her life by wasting valuable time. But this was just as important. “What’s Bob's wife’s name?” Pete wanted to know so he could be a little more personal. 

The truth was Natasha didn’t even know, she’d seen the picture of you in Bob's wallet that he’d shown her, but Bob had only ever called you by your nickname. Bob's beloved term of endearment. 

Peach. 

“He’s only ever called her Peach, I don’t even know her name.” Phoenix cried. She was still trying to process what had happened—she felt like the blame was all her own to bear. She’d damn near killed her back seater and she didn’t even know his wife’s real name or that you were pregnant. “I nearly killed him and I don’t even know his wife’s name—“ 

“Hey hey hey.” Mav tried to soothe the clearly shocked pilot. “It wasn’t your fault, it could’ve happened to anyone, Phoenix.” Mav smiled softly as he held the phone back to his ear, he was still yet to call Phoenix's emergency contact, her sister Lily. It wasn’t inherently Mavericks' job to call the emergency contacts listed in Bob and Phoenix’s files, but it was his duty, his responsibility. 

He was going to as soon as he’d informed you, however, Pete wasn’t expecting this call to take the turn it had. “Peach, you there?” 

There was no answer, Simply whimpers. When you’d doubled over in pain in the kitchen you’d left your phone on the island bench top. It was far too out of reach now as you sat trying to breathe through the latest contraction that bodied you. 

“Peach—“ Mav started, but as he did so saw the medics wheeling Bob closer and closer to the ambulance waiting on the tarmac. He couldn’t say anything, not when Bob was still fighting to stay conscious. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there as soon as they can, I promise.” 

“Bbboooooobb—!” You cried out. “I can’t do this!” It was all too much for you to handle, the immense pressure, the anxiety, the fear of losing your husband. “I can’t fucking do this!” You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d have to do this alone. Bob always said he’d be right with you every single step of the way. And up until right now he had been. 

“Someone’s coming Peach.” Maverick knew you couldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the phone down. He looked at Bob being wheeled into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher, wondering if his decision to not say anything as of right now was a bad decision. He seemed to always be full of those. 

“Someone’s coming—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

By the time Bob was brought back to the North Island Base Hospital, he was very aware that someone would need to call his emergency contact about what had happened. Someone was going to need to call you, he thought it would be best if he was the one who called. 

With a throbbing headache and a few cuts and gashes, Bob let the nurses and doctors tend to his aid without much of a fight. He knew he needed the care, knew it was for the best if he just let everyone do their jobs. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if he put up a fight they would only keep him admitted for longer. 

“You got a partner Robert? A wife or husband that we need to call?” Doctor Austin asked as he shined a light into Bob's eyes, watching carefully as he followed the light side to side. 

“I have a wife–” Bob mumbled, his head hurt from when he’d hit the ground not so gracefully but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle as he sat up on the hospital bed with his legs hanging off the side. Phoenix was laying with an ice pack over her eyes on the other bed. “She’s um, she's pregnant, could go any day now.” Doctor Austin chuckled as he clicked his pen light off and placed it into his top pocket. Sending Bob an all knowing look. 

“And you thought it was a good idea to fall outta the sky?” Bob's ribs hurt when he laughed softly, cupping at his side as he did so, laughing with the doctor who had cleared him and Natasha of any serious injury. “My good man, I can't say that's a good mix.” But there were still observations that needed to be made and a few more tests just to be sure. He wasn't out of the woods. 

“Yeah I think you might be right doc—“ Bob smiled softly. “But can I be the one to call her? She’ll probably take the news a little better if she heard it from me.” 

“I’ll see what I can do Lieutenant.” Doctor Austin nodded as he picked up his charts and headed out of the room, leaving Phoenix and Bob in the heavy silence of the aftermath of their near death experience. 

“What’s her name?” Phoenix mumbled from behind the ice pack she kept over her eyes. 

“Y/n—“ Bob replied softly as he played with the wedding band that was strung through his dog tags. “We’ve been together since high school.” 

“Why do you call her Peach?” 

“Because she’s as sweet as the peaches from the orchard my grandma used to own.” Bob couldn’t stop himself from bashfully blushing, a hume all consuming crept across the apples of his cheeks whenever he spoke about you. “We’re about to have a baby, the detachment was meant to be my last before I could access my paternity leave entitlements.” 

“Rough last assignment—“ Phoenix chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief. Bob agreed silently, it was a rough last assignment. “You don’t talk about her an awful lot do you?” 

“I would—“ Bob pressed his lips together. “Just no one really asked.” It was then that Phoenix realised that she didn’t know an awful lot about the man who had gone down with her. The man who sat behind her and had her back in the sky. Her WSO. “And I guess we’re not here for all that long anyway so I just kept her to myself, she’s a nice reminder that even after the rough days we’ve been having I get to go home, safe and in one piece to the woman I love.” 

“Do you guys know what your having?” Phoenix didn't mean to pry, but she felt an overwhelming pressure to get to know the person she had been flying with since being requested for this detachment. Bob shook his head in response. 

“Nah, we wanted to keep it a surprise.” Just as Bob was finishing his sentences Doctor Austin returned, his face looked all kinds of pale and worry was written in the deep lines across his forehead. 

“Lieutenant Floyd it looks as if your wife was just admitted into the maternity ward—“ Bob's heart stopped beating inside his chest as he listened to Doctor Austin. “It appears that she was contacted earlier about your accident and the shock sent her into labour—“ 

“I uh—I need to see her.” Bob mumbled as he slid off the exam bed and nearly fell to the floor. His knees were so weak from the shock and adrenaline from the accident and now the realisation that he was about to be a first time dad. “I need to see my wife, where is she?” 

“Lieutenant, I know this must be a stressful situation for you but I really advise against leaving until we’ve finished with your own test. We still need to get you in for—“ 

“I won’t miss the birth of my baby.” Bob shook his head in defiance. “No, I won’t leave her to do that alone, she needs me—I know she does because I know how scared she is about doing this alone.” 

“Robert—“

“No no you have to listen to me. I can't let her do this alone because I’ve heard her cry about it in the middle of the night.” Phoenix's heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched Bob plead with the doctor and the nurses that had come in to try and subdue him. “She’s scared I won’t come back one day and today was almost that day and now she’s giving birth to our baby alone after I promised I’d be here for her—“ 

“We can’t let you go, it would be against all my medical advice.” Doctor Austin tried to explain. “I understand the difficulty of the situation Mr Floyd but your health and wellbeing is our number one priority.”

“But you have to let me!! That’s my wife! She needs me! Please—“ You needed your husband, things weren’t travelling all that well in the delivery room. You weren’t ready to have this baby—not if Bob wasn’t there with you. Not if Bob had left you behind, he was too young to die. He couldn’t leave you here by yourself to raise a baby, his baby, on your own. He promised he wouldn’t. 

“Mrs Floyd, you are going to have this baby.” 

“Aahhhhhh! I’m not doing this without my husband!” You groaned out. You were covered in sweat and crying your heart out as one of the labour and delivery nurses held your hand and placed a cool washcloth to your forehead. “I won’t have this baby without him, do you understand me!” 

“Someone needs to contact her husband—“ Everyone from the King of England to the Hounds of Hell could hear you screaming. It had been a rather quiet day for the L&D department. Until the ambulance had brought you in. 

“We can’t reach him, but I’ll try again.” One of the intern labour and delivery nurses replied as she rushed out of the room, she sprinted towards the nurses station in a hurry. So fast she almost went straight past it, she came to a halt with a flustered sigh.“I need you to try contacting Mr Floyd again, his wife won’t cooperate—she’s refusing to give birth to this baby without him.” 

“She knows how having a baby works doesn’t she?” One of the older nurses sitting at the desk rolled her eyes. “That baby, no matter the circumstances, isn’t going to wait for anyone.”

“I’ll let the L&D ward know you’re here as a patient but that’s the best I can do at this stage Lieutenant, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this ward without having run through all the proper medical procedures to make sure you’re fit to return to work.” Doctor Austin wasn’t trying to be the bay guy, if anything he wanted nothing more than to send Bob on his way—but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he didn’t do his job to the best of his ability. “My primary priority is you and Miss Trance here.” 

“You don’t understand!” Bob ran his hands through his hair as his bottom lip quivered. He was holding back tears as he looked up to the ceiling—begging whatever God up there that saved him this morning to work just a little more magic. “She won’t have this baby without me, that was the deal—I needed to be there and now that I’m not—“

“She can’t not have the baby Robert.” Doctor Austin sighed, that was the moment Bob knew he needed out. He needed to get to you, he needed to be there by your side and whisper how beautiful and strong and amazing you are for being a whole person into this world. Because if there was one thing you were, it was strong willed, and you weren't going to have this baby without him. That was a promise. “I’ll go talk with L&D and I’ll be right back.” 

“Tell my wife I’m here!” Bob shouted as Doctor Austin left the room, Bob felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure mounting inside his chest, like an elephant was perched upon his chest. “I’m—I’m here.” He broke. Tears streamed down his grazed cheeks as Phoenix hobbled over. She’d done a little damage to herself but nothing a little rest and recovery couldn’t fix. 

They were lucky—oh so lucky. 

“She's gonna be okay.” Natasha tried her best to comfort the Weapons System Officer she hardly knew, but Bob was long gone. He’d fallen deep into that hole, the one that the Greek God Chronos had created to separate this life from the next one. He was falling through a helpless paradox of anxiety and fear. You were about to give birth and he was going to miss it. As he crouched down as a whale of pain escaped his parted lips, Bob wished for nothing more than to reverse time.

Because if he could just simply reserve time then he wouldn’t have gone into work this morning. And none of this would be happening. 

***~***~***~****~***~****~****~***

“Desmond, she’s not doing well, at all.” Lily, one of your delivery nurses, pleaded with Bob's doctor to just let him come to your aid. “She thinks he’s dead, something about an accident he was in this morning.” 

“F-18 ejection, he hit the ground pretty hard.” Doctors Austin looked in at you on the bed, in the middle of active labour, fighting every urge you had to push. You weren’t having this baby, not without Bob, the love of your life, your best friend, your husband. “He’s fine, but he’s in for observation overnight and I’m still waiting for his result to come back from his MRI.” 

“If she doesn’t see her husband soon she’s going to need an emergency c-section and I for one am not about to place a panicked mother to be under the knife unless it’s critical.” Lily was your voice of reason. You couldn’t plead with Doctor Austin to let your husband go yourself so she did it for you. “If your patient can walk, hold his wife’s hand while she delivers their child and can sign a waiver saying he waved all medical advice then send him down here before she loses this baby.” 

“You L&D ladies think you know everything—“ 

“Just bring me her damn husband before it’s too late.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Bob felt like he’d been condemned to some eternal hell, time froze as the walls of the hospital room he sat in with Phoenix grew closer and closer. He felt claustrophobic for the first time in a long time. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Phoenix tried to keep Bob's mind from going to places too dark to fathom. He needed a distraction from the fact he was here with her and you were delivering his child. All alone. 

“I was never good at history, she was my partner for this assessment we had in ancient history class once, everyone was doing their research on Pompeii but not Peach.” Bob chuckled to himself at the memory. “No she wanted to do Herculaneum and it turned out to be the only project I ever got an A on for that class.” You were just it for Bob. There was something special about your aura. Your ability to draw him close like a moth entranced by a flame. You took his breath away every time you told him you loved him. 

Your love sent Bob's heart clear out of this world. 

“We kinda just never left each other's side since then.” Bob explained as he sat against the wall on the floor with his elbows on his knees. “She’s always been so supportive of what I do even though I know it scares her more than anything to see me walk out that door every morning and she worries endlessly whenever I’m deployed.” 

“Becoming she loves you.” Phoenix wished she knew a love like Bobs, but her time hadn’t come yet. Bob nodded along as he twirled his wedding band around his finger as it hung from his dog tags. 

“Because she loves me.” 

“Floyd—“ Doctor Austin made his presence known as he chucked Bob a blue hospital gown and cap. “Put those on, sign this form that says you're going against my professional medical advice and follow me, you’re needed in labour and delivery.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Push! Y/n dear you need to push—!” Lily tried to persuade you to push when your next contraction hit but you were too far gone. You weren’t ready to be a mother, not without Bob there to be a father. 

“No! No, I'm not having this baby!” It was the hardest thing to hear as Bob came racing down the hall, his entire body ached from bruises, his head felt heavy on his shoulders from his concussion. But he was okay, he was alive. “I’m not! I won’t! I can’t do this without him!” You cried out in pain as you fought the urge to push, you swore your teeth were about to crush under the force of you clenching. A scream so heartbreaking and primal ripped through you as your body began to betray you. You were fighting nature's course and it wasn’t going well.

“She needs to push—she’s losing too much blood.” One of the nurses stated as a matter of factly just as Bob made it to the door. He froze at the sight of you, how could you look so beautiful in so much pain? He thought he was going to pass out as he took steady, slow steps into the room. 

“I’m here—“ Bob cooed as he came up to your beside. “I’m here Peach I’m here.”

“Bob?” You turned in a delirious state to where your husband's voice had come from. “No no I thought you—“

“I’m okay.” He smiled as he bent over to kiss your forehead and splay his hand on top of your head to push your hair away from your face. “I’m here, I told you I’d be here didn’t I?” 

“I thought you died, I thought you were in an accident?” You could barely focus, you felt so light headed that the world felt like it was spinning. “I thought—“

“Hey, hey you need to push alright? You can push now baby because I’m here and I’m with you and I’m fine.” Bob reassured you as you sobbed and nodded as he kissed your lips softly and held your hand. “You’re so strong, you’re so brave, and I love you so much, please push mama.” 

“This baby is coming whether you're ready or not Mrs Floyd so I’m gonna need you to focus so we can get this baby out.” Lily rounded the bed as she positioned herself between your legs. Bob felt you tighten your grip around his head and everything stopped. Time stood still, your screams were all but drowned out by the excitement and fear in Bob's heart. 

“Yes, Y/n good job. I can see bubs head you’re doing so well! Oh your next contraction I need you to push until I tell you to stop.” Lily smiled as you let your head fall back against the bed. 

“You’ve been telling me to push and now you don’t want me to push!?” You hissed. Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle. He was so amazed by your strength. 

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Lily chuckled. She knew you were close, barreling towards another contraction. She could see it. “Alright this is the one mama, big push for me and bubs will be here in no time.” 

“Bob! It hurts! Make it stop!” You cried out, Bob wished he could take all your pain and experience it himself. He never wanted to see you in such a state, but your baby was coming, the baby you’d made together. You’d created together late one night or in the early hours of the morning he wasn’t too sure. But what he was sure of was that you could do this. “It hurts!!” 

“Push Mrs Floyd!” Lily shouted. 

“Come on peach push! push!” Bob willed you on as you did. You shouted  and cried and squeezed your husband’s hand so hard he thought you were about to break his damn hand. But this was it. Your baby was coming. 

“Okay okay the heads out stop!” Lily guided you as you let your head fall back against the bed in pure exhaustion. You were dehydrated, covered in sweat and ready to give up. “So I lied before, you’re gonna give me one smaller push to help bubs out Y/n and that it’s—you're done.” 

“I can’t.” 

“No peach you can.” Bob cooed. “You can because you’ve come this far.” 

“I’m not even sure if you're here or not.” You sobbed as you reached out to caress Bob's cheek. “I’m not even sure if you're here with me or if I’m seeing things.”

“I’m here, I’m real.” Bob whispered in your ear. “And we’re having our baby Peach, just one more little push and it’s gonna be you and me and our little one against the world.” You nodded softly and you shut your eyes and groaned. “You can do it.” 

“Alright let’s have this baby! One more small push!” Lily announced as another contraction tour through your exhausted body. 

“Ahhhhhh!!” You shouted and Bob swore you bust his eardrum, but it was a small sacrifice as the cries of the world’s newest human echoed off the walls. 

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Floyd you have a little baby girl.” Lily handed you your daughter the second she was born. Placing her on your chest within seconds of her arrival. 

“Oh Peach, she's so beautiful.” Bob cried as tears streamed down his cheeks. He swore he’d never be able to love someone more than he loved you. But as you held your newborn daughter on your chest he kinda thought he’d been wrong. He could love someone just as much as he loved you. Your daughter. 

“She's perfect, hi b-baby.” Your voice was all but a whisper as your head lulled to the side. You felt dizzy, lightheaded as your daughters cried softened. “I love you.” 

“Y/n? Sweetheart are you alright?” You didn’t reply but you looked up at your husband with a dazed expression, a tunnel had begun to form, edges of a dark black hole crept its way into your mind.

Chronos hole—the one between this world and the next. 

“Peach?” Alarms rang out as Lily removed your crying newborn just minutes earth side from your chest as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “No no no no what’s wrong what’s happening to her?” Bob asked as he tapped your cheek softly. “Hey, Peach, no stay with me, stay with me.” 

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s haemorrhaging.” Lily explained as she and a bunch of other nurses worked around you. “We need to get her into surgery, Mr Floyd.” 

“Sir, step back—“ An older nurse asked as she placed a hand on Bob's shoulder. He did as he watched Lily take a sample of your blood. 

“I’ll head directly to the lab to drop off the sample.” 

“Just make sure her surgeon has o-negative on the ready.” The only nurse replied as Bob stood there, watching as they wheeled you out on the same bed you'd just given birth in. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, he didn't get a chance to tell you how much he loved you. 

“Uh, do I go with her or?” Bob didn’t know what to do, his whole world had been turned upside down and on its head already today, and again it had just flipped once more. There was one nurse left, he didn’t know her name, but she smiled politely at him. 

“No, you should stay here with your daughter, she needs her daddy now.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he sat with his newborn daughter in the maternity room of the Miramar Base Hospital designed by man, for man to help other men with westernised medical procedures and treatments…

That it wouldn't give two shits about you either. 

“Hey..” A gruff voice came from the doorway, it took Bob all his light and all his remaining energy to look up from his daughter. The light and life of you. “I uh, I just thought I’d come check in on you and Phoenix.” Mav crossed his arms over his chest as he moved into the room. “How’s your wife doing?” 

“I don’t know.” Bob explained as he rocked his little girl, skin to skin was important so he’d stripped off what he could. “She’s still in surgery.” Pete could see the worry written in the lines of Bob's face. But the little girl who cried against his shoulder had him mesmerised. “Sorry darlin, I got you, daddy’s here.” 

“She’s a little beauty isn’t she?” Mav sat down beside the WSO who’d had a longer day then most. “You get a chance to name her yet? Before—?” Mav didn’t have to say before you went into shock. Your body had been through a lot and the nurses believed if you hadn’t held on so long, held back against what your body was telling you it needed to do then there was a possibility that it could have been a rather smooth delivery. Bob took that personally, the only reason you were holding back was because he wasn't here for you when you needed him the most. 

“No, but we’ll name her after, for now she’s baby Peach.” 

“Your wife’s nickname.” Mav replied softly as he looked up. He knew then and there what was about to happen. 

Bob knew there was a Doctor standing in the doorway. He didn’t dare look up. He knew if he looked up he’d be told the worst news of his life. 

Bob remembered that had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. He remembered that you had chuckled out a soft no as he trailed his lips up your neck. Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while a Doctor by the name of Henry Nardella told him that you didn’t make it through the surgery, that you'd left him and your daughter behind, in a world where nothing made sense without you in it. 

Well—Robert Floyd felt as if he’d fallen straight into it. 

“No, please don't leave me here.” Bob felt like he’d fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. He felt like he had tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. He’d descended into a world where you weren't around. “No Peach, no.” 

But at the touch of his earlobe, a slight pressure formed at the lobe. So warm and comforting. Bob knew as your baby girl settled in against his chest at the lub dub of his heart beating for you–he knew you were safe on the other side. 

Because you had tugged on his earlobe, just like you promised you would. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[girls-alias]

Robert Chase Fics:

Oneshots:

Necklace - Chase x Reader. He innocently gets hers a necklace claiming it made him think of her.

Tease - Chase distracts you. He realises and teases you.

Smut:

Stop Everything - High sex drives have them locking themselves in closets at work.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

CILLIAN MURPHY MASTERLIST

For Cillian Murphy, I'll write for:

- Jonathan Crane

- Robert Fischer

If you have a request, please try to stick to these, but if you want something else, just message me or ask, I'll see what I can do :p

And I only write for Fem! And GenderNeutral! as that's what I'm comfortable with.

-

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

Office Hours/Bells Series

Professor Crane x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n, a university student, forms an unexpected friendship with Professor Jonathan Crane. But are his intentions what he says they are?

Secret Ties    !!READ WARNINGS!!

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, incest (uncle/niece), fear gas, forced kissing, kidnapping

Summary: At a university charity ball, Y/n meets the Professor of Psychology and things turn south from there on out. 

Behind The Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader - Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

You Are The Right One

Pairing: High School!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Summary: !!Request!! High school was a cesspool of misery for Jonathan. After the cruel prank from his crush and biggest bully, he believed his days would be forever marred by the shadows of ridicule and isolation. Until a beacon of light emerged in the form of one girl who reached out with a helping hand.

-

Neil Lewis

Neil Lewis with a Goth Girlfriend Headcanon

[kining-the-evil]

House M.D Masterlist

Masterlists

request

House md masterlist- @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Gregory House-

Headcanons

Smut Headcanons

General Yandere!greg House

Yandere!House with an autistic!Darling

Drabble

Do they want kids(Yandere!greg house)

Oneshot

Whatever you think is best: Greg makes a call, but was it the right one?

James Wilson-

Headcanons

General Yandere Headcannons

Yandere Alphabet(male reader)

Baby trapping thoughts with Yandere!Wilson

Baby trapping part 2

Jealous!James Wilson

Yandere!Wilson with an Autistic!Darling

Yandere!wilson with little!reader

Oneshots

Heartbeat: nothing like a life threatening event to bring an arguing couple back together

Sweet Tooth: it’s Valentine’s Day and James knows you have a sweet tooth(Yandere!wilson)

Alison Cameron-

Headcanons

Dating a nonbinary reader

Robert Chase-

Headcanons

Yandere Chase Headcanon

Do they want kids(Yandere!robert chase)

Yandere alphabet

Trying to break up with Yandere!Chase

Yandere!Chase with an autistic!Darling

Yandere!Chase with a runaway Darling

Oneshot

Sick Day- Chase gets sent home sick and reader has to take care of him

Eric Forman-

none yet

Lisa Cuddy-

Headcount

Yandere!lisa with little!reader

[valiantstarlights]

[Dreamling Week Day 7: AUs or Crossovers] Of Surviving

This is a Dreamling Hunger Games AU oneshot. I finished writing it on May 27, but then I saw @mr-sadman 's prompt list for dreamling week 2023 and thought, 'Oooh 🖤 This is going to be perfect for Day 7!'

And here we are 2 weeks later. I hope you guys like it! 😊

CW: I mean...it's The Hunger Games. That's a warning all by itself.

"And why should we bet that you would win?" The host asks, fake teeth gleaming under the harsh stage lights. The same question, the same maddening smile directed at all the tributes.

"Because," Dream says, feeling bile rise up his throat, "I am better than the two who came before me."

The crowd gasps, but he could see a couple of audience members, the rough-looking shark-like types, nodding in consideration.

He hopes his siblings aren't watching.

--

"And why should we bet that you would win?"

"You shouldn't," the smiling boy from District 9 says. "But do it anyway for spite. Who knows, in the unlikely event that I win, you'll have me to thank for getting you at least a dozen new mansions."

The crowd laughs. Dream watches from backstage and immediately dismisses the boy as someone who would die an hour into the games.

--

The next time Dream sees the boy from District 9 is when he was aiming a javelin right at Dream. The first words the boy ever says to him is, "Duck!"

Dream ducks, and watches as the boy's javelin strikes true, right in the chest of District 2's career tribute.

--

"I thank you for saving my life, but I hope you are not expecting me to save you back."

The boy looks at him like he's a weird seven-legged fish. "Sure. You're welcome, District 4."

They part ways.

--

"Thought you said you wouldn't be saving my life," the boy from District 9 says, hand still holding Dream's as the two of them run away from the trap Dream has sprung, which caught a couple of other tributes who had been chasing him. Them both.

It was a coincidence that they were even in the same place at the same time.

Dream should really shake the boy's hand off.

"I am saving mine in the process of saving yours," he says. "Having an ally means surviving longer."

"An ally, huh? Well in that case, the name's Hob. Well, Robert Gadling, actually. I'm from District 9."

'I know,' Dream doesn't say. 'I thought you would be one of the first ones to die.'

--

"My name is Dream."

Dream wouldn't have volunteered this information, or really, anything about himself, but Hob has earned his trust by being an incredibly resourceful partner. He hasn't killed anyone else aside from that one career tribute, but he makes up for his lack of kill count by helping Dream (who grew up near the sea) survive in the arena the gamemakers have fashioned for them, which was part dense forest and part prairie.

"It suits you," Hob says, eyes on Dream's when he says it, his smile soft.

Dream looks away.

--

The faces of the day's dead have just finished being shown in the sky. Five more dead tributes. He imagines how their family back home would react to the news of their death. Would they be angry? Would they be disappointed?

Would they be relieved that there will be less mouths to feed from now on?

Dream wants to scream. He wants to think about anything else, so he turns to Hob, sitting beside him, face still turned upwards, contemplative. Dream wonders if they're thinking the same thing.

"Tell me about your family," Dream says.

Hob shrugs. "Not much to tell, really. We're poor like the rest, work hard like the rest, and try our best to live a life like the rest."

Dream sees his hands balled up into fists by his sides, knuckles white.

--

"What did Johanna mean, when she said you'll share the same fate as your siblings if you cross her path?"

It was early the next day. Hob is talking about a conversation between Dream and Johanna that took place in the morning of the previous day.

"I had six siblings," Dream says. They were gathering firewood now, for another trap that Dream is planning to spring. "Two of them were both reaped last year."

Hob stops in his tracks. "Oh," he says, sadness coloring his tone and setting Dream's teeth on edge. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Dream says simply. He clutches his bundle tighter in his arms so Hob wouldn't see how his hands have began to shake. "You did not pick their names at random."

--

"Their names were Destruction and Delirium," Dream tells him later that night in their little camp, hidden deep within the forest. "Sometimes I wish I had volunteered in my brother's place and managed to save my sister."

"Oh, love."

--

"Why did you call me 'love' yesterday?" Dream does not look at Hob when he asks this.

"Why do you think?"

He wonders if Hob is looking at him when he answered.

--

"You should eat more."

Dream ignores him and curls up more in his tattered sleeping bag. The trap succeeded, but the gamemakers fucked around with the weather and Dream had been soaked to the bone. And now it seems that he has caught a fever.

"Please," Hob begs, warm hand on Dream's freezing arm. He has cooked a meager amount of watery vegetable soup from the plants they had foraged. "For me."

"You will be better off without me," Dream says, because it's true. "There are only a few tributes left."

Hob sighs. "Look, if you don't eat by yourself, then I'm going to feed you like a baby bird, and then we'll both feel awkward."

Dream imagines Hob sipping the soup and keeping it in his mouth, then pressing his lips against Dream's and feeding him in this manner, just to make sure that Dream has something warm and healing in his stomach. He reddens even more despite his raging fever.

He still has some good sense remaining, however, so he sits up and shakily accepts the small bowl from Hob's hands, unable to look directly at him.

--

Dream tilts his face away. "We shouldn't."

"Why not?" Hob has not moved, body still close and face a breath away from Dream's. "What are you so afraid of?"

Dream pushes him away with both hands, but he does so gently and with a lingering touch to Hob's clothed chest that his hands were immediately engulfed by Hob's larger ones.

Dream is becoming a hedonist under the boy's influence. It is apparent when their fingers tangled together almost automatically.

"Because if we share a kiss," Dream says, "then we would cease to be vigilant for a few precious seconds, and that could mean the difference between life and death."

Hob says nothing for a moment, before he inhales deeply and nods. "You're right."

"I almost always am."

Hob rolls his eyes at him. "I mean that you're right in that we should always be vigilant. Not that when I kiss you, I would only want it to last for a few seconds."

'When,' Hob says. Not 'if.'

Dream tries not to obsess about his wording.

He fails.

--

"I apologize. You should not have seen that."

"What, you killing Johanna by drowning her in quicksand?"

"I did not mean to! It was just the easiest way to do it." Dream looks down at Hob coldly, willing his anger to overtake the fear that this would be the thing that would make Hob betray him.

--

"You're afraid of me now."

Hob shakes his head. He still has not looked at Dream in the eye again, but his tone is as kind as always. Dream wants to hold his hand and ask for reassurance that Hob does not hate him. He doesn't, because he has always been a coward.

"I'm afraid of dying," Hob says. "Totally not the same thing."

--

"Dream?"

Dream is pretending to be asleep. He has to. He dares not show Hob his tear-streaked cheeks.

Hob sighs.

--

"Okay, here's the plan." Hob's eyes are looking furtively behind them, body tense. They are almost at the end. There are only a couple more tributes left other than the two of them. "You run right, I run left, then we lead whoever is following us to your traps."

Dream looks at Hob's handsome, dirt-streaked face and wants more than anything to survive with him. But there can only be one victor, and he has already failed two of the people he loves.

He leans forward and kisses Hob for the first and probably the last time. Then, he stands up and runs as fast as his feet can carry him towards the traps, ignoring Hob's panicked shout behind him.

--

"I don't want to survive if you don't survive with me," Hob tells the stars when Dream is pretending to be asleep. "I can't. I wouldn't be able to."

--

"Who says you're dying?" Dream replies just after dawn, when Hob is sound asleep beside him, snoring softly. "You are not allowed to die under my watch, Hob Gadling."

--

"No! Dream!"

"I'm...I'm sorry," Dream says, voice soft and weak. There was way too much red surrounding him. Hob is losing his mind. "I love you. I'm sorry."

"You cheated." Hob's hands are shaking as he takes his jacket off and bunches it up, pressing it hard against the wound on the other boy's stomach. "You're supposed to be the one that survives!"

"I don't want to go back," Dream tells him, eyes turning glassy with unshed tears. "Not without you."

"Shit, you're losing too much blood."

"I would have liked to show you the place where I like to read in secret..."

"Gods, shut up, shut up, shut up--" Hob looks around frantically, trying to find something, anything, that could save Dream.

He is handed a knife by a bloodied, trembling hand, so pale it was almost white. "Here," Dream says. He points to an area under his own jaw. "Put the knife... Slash deep here. A little diagonally. Most effective..." His eyes were already blinking slower, movements growing sluggish.

"No," Hob says fiercely. The knife's handle is digging into his palm from how tight he's gripping it. "No, I'm not killing you. Fuck you for even--"

"Love you..." Dream's lips mouth at him, his striking blue eyes still looking at Hob's, as if he wants Hob's face to be the last thing he sees.

"No," Hob spits in denial. "Fuck this--"

Hob has always been a quick learner. His mother had always told him so. When his older brother was reaped six years ago and died within the hour of the games starting, Hob marched out of their house and immediately learned how to handle all the farming equipment from the older men, so his family could continue to eat.

He now places the knife Dream gave him against his own neck--

--

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

--

Dream gasps awake and clutches at the shape beside him desperately. Hob startles awake at the frantic touch, then pulls Dream towards him, holding him tight and steady, a fortress against a howling storm.

He murmurs soft words next to Dream's ear, one hand rubbing his back gently, while the other partially covers the large jagged scar on Dream's side. Dream presses his face closer to Hob's neck, his nose right where Hob's own scar is. It's small and looks insignificant compared to the one on Dream's body, but it proved more effective in getting the gamemakers to panic. They needed to have a victor, after all.

That year, they had two.

That had been ten years ago.

"We made it, my love," Hob says against his hair. It smells like the very sea that is only a short walk away from their home. Hob can hear the waves lapping peacefully at the shore. "We made it. It's all over now. We made it."

[kiddbegins]

Usually a Wilson girl but I had an idea for Chase lol.

What if he and reader went on like a date or something and the reader baked/cooked something....or had like some lotion/chapstick/lipgloss/idk on and it had strawberries in it and the reader obviously didn't know and yeah.

Strawberries - Robert Chase

Robert Chase x fem!reader Word count: idk I wrote this right here A/n: idk if I got the hospital stuff right but shhh ignore.

Baking is your love language. You have always loved to make some sort of sweet for the people around you. Birthday? Here’s a homemade cake for you. Graduation? Here’s some cookies.

Part of that meant remembering everyone’s favorites. Your sister would die for a white cake with lemon frosting. Your boss had a soft spot for red velvet with cream cheese icing.

The one person you haven’t gotten that information on was the man of your eye, Robert Chase. You’ve been on one single date, a nice restaurant that he insisted he pay on. But tonight you asked him to come over.

You planned on making dinner and of course you had to make a dessert. Strawberry cupcakes were your personal favorite and since you were already anxious it seemed like a win-win. Robert would be able to feel the attraction you felt towards him and you’d be able to breathe while you ate.

Win-win.

As you waited for him to show up you nitpicked at everything. Just slightly adjusting the two plates on the table at least three times in an attempt to not over think. He was just running late, he wasn’t ghosting you and he’d be here any second.

Which was true. Just as you started to think maybe you should give up (which is dramatic, it’s only been ten minutes), there was a couple gentle knocks on your front door. “Coming.”

You weren’t dressed up to the nines but still, the dress you wore was fancy enough that it was fitting for a nice dinner. His outfit was similar. Dark but well fitting jeans but a nice buttoned up shirt that was rolled up to his elbows.

“Wow you look… amazing,” his accented voice made you blush as it always did, ducking your head down slightly.

“Thanks, so do you. Come in. I made spaghetti bolognese, hope that’s good,” you stepped aside, rubbing your thumb nail against your index finger nervously as he stepped into your apartment.

Sure you’d been talking for a couple weeks but you didn’t exactly reach the ‘visiting one another’s places’ stage yet. Or, at least not until now. So his intense curiosity at your decor felt a bit overwhelming.

“That’s fine, I like that statue by the tv,” he pointed towards the small Greek statue right next to your television, a small smile spreading on your face.

“Thanks, it’s a uh, Medusa. I won’t bore you with the lore and stuff,” you chuckled, motioning for him to follow you into the dining room.

He was quiet for a moment behind you before sighing, “I doubt it’s boring. But it’ll be a story for next time right?” A warm smile growing on his face as he saw the set up table. “Wow, this looks great.”

Once more you blushed, unable to stop the way his face and accent made your heart nearly leap into your throat.

“Thanks, uh, thank you. I’ve always liked cooking and baking, that’s why I offered to make you dinner. I hope it’s okay,” you said nervously, putting the bowl of food onto the table and sitting across from Chase.

Of course as soon as it was set and the food dispersed you ate, going on about work and just, getting to know one another. What life was like in Australia for him, how life was for you back in your hometown.

Simple things, casual dinner talk. “You said you like baking? How’d you get into that?” He asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin as you stood to clear the dishes.

“My grandma insisted that I learn how she made her snickerdoodle cookies and chocolate cake. That snowballed into messing with recipes when I was bored. Took home ec and culinary in high school.” You explained as you rinsed the plates off.

“What’s your favorite thing to make?”

“Oh god, probably cakes? I’ve gotten pretty damn good at decorating them so it’s fun. You can tweak any little thing to put your own spin on the flavor. It’s amazing.”

You couldn’t help but get a bit excited talking about it. It was the one major connection between you and your grandmother that felt strong enough to last centuries. Generations.

Chase stood, walking up next to you, “That’s really cool, you’ll have to show me sometime.” He grinned, leaning up against the counter and looking down at you.

“I uh, I actually made some cupcakes for tonight. So if you wanted to try some of my baking,” you offered, turning slightly to him.

“Yes please,” he answered immediately, “I’d love to.”

His response made your stomach flutter, reaching over for the container you kept the cupcakes in. “Here, have one,” you held it out to him, waiting for him to take it before you took your own.

“Thanks,” his voice soft as he unwrapped the treat and took a bite.

You paused in anticipation before seeing his face drop. “What? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly, putting your own down.

“Is this strawberry?” He questioned, you nodding, confusion very clear on your face.

Before he could reply again he fell to the floor, the cupcake rolling away from him slightly. “Shit,” you went to kneel next to him before stopping yourself.

911, call 911. You ran to grab your phone and called before going to kneel next to him. You were just a baker, you didn’t know the first thing about medical crap.

All you could do was loosen the buttons by his neck and check that he was still getting air in. Not too long after you called there was a knock on the door and the first responders were giving him epinephrine and taking him away to the hospital.

Of course you were right behind, driving as quickly (and safely) as you could, to get there when he did.

“Hi im uh, Robert chase just got brought in for a uh, well I’m assuming an allergic reaction, could I go see him?” You talked to the lady in the emergency room, being told to wait as she checked someone was even here.

When she came back she nodded, “follow me.” The lady guided you to a curtain, pushing it aside to show the blonde laying on the bed with an iv in his hand and a pulsometer on his finger.

“God, I am so sorry-“

“Hey, don’t be, you didn’t know.” He cut you off before you could even get the apology out. “I should have said something about the strawberry thing if anything. I knew you were cooking and baking.”

You shook your head, “I should’ve asked. But you’ll be okay right?” You questioned, moving a chair to sit beside him.

“Yeah, not the first time it’s happened. Definitely won’t be the last.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Life right?”

A soft chuckle came from you before you nodded, “Yeah I guess so. I’ll be sure to avoid strawberries from now on.” You offered.

“Probably a good idea.” He replied with a laugh, no hard feelings at all.

“I think this is the first time I’ve almost killed my date.”

“For my sake please make it your last too,” he joked, shifting slightly on the hospital bed.

You fake thought about it with a hum before nodding. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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tags: @nerdypyrowolf

[velaryqns]

Hii idk if you take requests but if you do could you write a fic where reader is married and pregnant with Wilson’s child and suddenly her water breaks in the middle of her work? This could be connected to the peds reader you did back then :) tysm <3

Mini Crown

Pairing: James Wilson x Reader

Notes: making this a sequel to “Glitter Crowns,” it seems quite fitting. So this is a head of peds reader!

Warnings: pregnancy, brief mentions of labor, House being House, brief mention of breastfeeding

You waddled walked around the clinic as quickly as you could, and that your husband would allow (lest he walked in and caught you walking at a rapid pace to help Cuddy in the clinic). You and James had already had a few disagreements about the idea of you working, but you told him you’d be fine for a few more weeks, it wouldn’t hurt the baby.

(You were wrong, at least the about you being fine part).

It was during lunch, you’d met with James while he flipped through the newspaper, picking at his meal sitting in mostly silence until you sat down across from him. He put his newspaper down and flashed his signature smile, taking your hand instantly.

“How are you two doing?”

“Fine as we can be,” you shrugged with a small smile and took a bite of one of your fries. You felt your husband’s eyes for a moment, but he accepted the answer and took a fry from you. You watched him for a moment, in a teasing way, and he only chuckled before he went back to his newspaper.

“Lizzie’s parents called,” he spoke.

Lizzie, the little girl you’d both helped when she was in the hospital under James’s care. After going through surgery, she was sent on her way. Even left you a small card.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned, sitting back in your chair at the slight twinge of pain in your back and going around your stomach. You ignored it though, bringing a hand to run along your belly as you smiled at him.

“They said she’s doing much better, and that she still wears that crown,” he chucked fondly at the memory of you doing crafts with his patience just over nine months back, an interaction that had encouraged the two of you to finally get a start at your family.

A few minutes passed of the two of you talking when you heard the familiar click of a cane on the floor.

“Aw look at the lovebirds,” House invited himself to the table, taking James’s newspaper and moving your food out of his way, but still managing to leave it within your grasp (he wasn’t that cruel).

“I’m trying to have lunch with my wife,” James protested, gesturing toward you with a frown; therefore missing the discomfort on your face.

“You live together,” House retorted, mocking James's gesture and admittedly making you chuckle softly. James playfully frowned in your direction, feigning anger at your "betrayal."

You chuckled at your husband’s face, then turned to House, “He’s not wrong, we’re trying to enjoy ourselves before the little one gets here.”

House looked unimpressed, and unable to take the hint given between both you and your husband. House began rambling, filled with his own complaints for the day. You stared at your food, more focused on the fresh fires and soothing the incessant pains you were feeling than paying attention to House.

“Honey?” James’s voice met your ears, filled with concern as he reached across the table, his warm palm covering your hand that was still resting on the table. He’d noticed the look on your face, and his brows furrowed as his large brown eyes scanned over your features, “Are you alright?”

Another wave of pain washed over you, and you flipped your hand over to take his in it, groaning slightly as you leaned in toward him and over your large stomach.

“You know, if you want me to leave you can just ask instead of faking contractions,” House looked over at you as he spoke, receiving a harsh glare from your husband as he stood to crouch next to you.

“Will you stop?” He muttered to the other doctor, then turned his attention to you, “Honey, come on. Let’s go…we can talk to Cuddy—“

“I’m fine,” you countered, shaking your head as you take a deep breath, “It’s early, Hon.”

“You knew it could happen any day,” James almost wanted to say ‘I told you so,’ but knew it would do nothing to help your situation. He instead placed a hand under your arm, letting you keep a hold of his other hand and helping you rise to your feet. His lips grazed your temple, and his voice was barely a whisper, “Come on…”

You breathed deeply, both you and your husband wanting to draw as little attention to yourselves as possible. But you were in the middle of a hospital, so you knew you could easily get help from someone else.

“Say bye-bye to sleep,” House called after the two of you, in a sing-songy way as he took your food and helped himself to what remained of the fries, his attention not leaving the newspaper as James guided you out of the cafeteria.

You didn’t even know how much time passed between your husband guiding you out of the cafeteria to your little boy being placed in your arms; the blue hospital cap sticking off of his head while James smiled down at your son from over your shoulder, his arm around your waist and rubbing up and down your side. He knew you were in pain, anyone with sense knew it.

You smiled at the little boy, his big brown eyes that matched his father’s looking back up at you. You hummed, dropping your head to James’s shoulder, “He’s so beautiful.”

“Just gotta hope he doesn’t look too much like his old man,” the sound of House’s voice almost made you jump. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. Your husband leveled a flare at the man, “What? I’m just bringing him his first cheap hospital teddy bear. We all know he’ll collect ‘em like crazy if he’s the child of you two.”

“House, I just gave birth, I’d like some time alone with my husband and son please,” you pleaded as House set the bear on the foot of your bed. You eyed it, then looked back up at him.

He held a hand up in surrender, “Fine, fine. Enjoy your time off.”

You rolled your eyes as he left. James chuckled and shook his head, then kissed your cheek, “You should get some sleep — I’ve got him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes honey, I’m sure,” he gently took your son and allowed you to lay down. You fell asleep faster than you ever had before.

A few weeks had passed, you were still at home with the new baby, but James had returned to work for certain visits with patients. One of them being Lizzie. She’d been excited about the idea of seeing you, bringing in her crown and asking if it was possible to do a craft. James was sad to tell her that you weren’t at the hospital at the present time, but he was glad to explain why. There was nothing as exciting to him as being a new father, not anymore.

The girl was glum, but she understood, and her parents congratulated him on the new phase in life. It was a couple of days later, when someone from the oncology team dropped off an envelope on his desk. He recognized the last name, it was Lizzie’s. He was curious as he unfolded the envelope, seeing inside that there was a small paper crown, similar to the one you made with your patients and that Lizzie had been carrying around.

He smiled at it, noticing that it was much smaller than the ones you and the children you worked with made. A chuckle passed through his lips and he noticed a note as well, but left it be for you to read when he returned home, which wasn’t too much further away.

The apartment was quiet when he stepped inside, minus the faint noises of the television and you humming. James toed off his shoes and followed the sound of your hums into the kitchen. You were doing dishes, the baby monitor clipped to the waistband of your sweatpants and a tank top (the easiest for you to wear as a new breastfeeding mother) that was covered in a few stains. His McGill sweater was thrown over the back of a chair, you must have worn it at some point in the day.

“Having fun?” You turned at the sound of his voice, and the corner of your mouth turned up as you shut the sink off.

“I just put him down a little bit ago,” you informed James, smiling proudly as you quickly (but quietly) walked in his direction. Your arms slung around his neck instinctively and one of his hands found your hip, squeezing gently as the two of you kissed. You hummed, smiling up at him, “Welcome home.”

“I’ve got something for you,” he lifted his briefcase as emphasis.

“I’ve got my own one of those,” you reminded him teasingly, then got yourself a glass of water as he pulled an envelope out of the briefcase.

As your husband slid it across the table, you could see that it had already been opened, likely by him. You set your cup down as you looked at him curiously, silently questioning what brought this on. When you opened the envelope, a small sob passed through your lips and you reached inside to pull out the small crown.

“Oh my God it’s so cute,” you crooned, eyes wide as you turned it over, unflattening the item so it could sit properly. James smiled at your excitement as you took in its size and then looked in the envelope once more, your eyes locking on Lizzie’s letter. You looked up at your husband, eyes big and wet with tears as realization dawned on you, “Oh my goodness.”

Your husband chuckled, walking over to you and wrapping an around your waist as you pulled out the letter, the both of you reading it together.

Dear Doctors Wilson and Wilson,

Lizzie is insistent that we write to you for her, we’ve tried to tell her that it isn’t necessary, but she really does like you pair. We hope the gift alongside this has reached you and your little one without any damage, and we send the biggest congratulations ever! We’re so grateful for what the both of you did for our little girl, and you deserve this step in life!

Again, congratulations!

You had tears running down your cheeks when James looked up at you again, and he chucked as he gently wiped them away, then kissed your lips, “You’re an amazing doctor honey, and you’re a great mother. Our little man is so lucky to have you, so am I, and all of your patients.”

“Don’t get me to soppy,” you chuckled at him, sniffling and waving a hand back and forth in front of your face. He chuckled, looking down when soft cries echoed through the monitor. Before you could act he snatched the device from your waist.

“I got him, go rest, I’ll be back in a minute,”

You nodded, still holding the letter in your hands as James took the small paper crown. He made his way to the source of the cries, smiling down at the baby as he lifted him in his arms and brought him against his chest.

“Hello,” he said softly, glad to finally be holding his son after a long day. He bounced him up and down as he walked over to a shelf in the corner of the room, photos of you and James lining it, as well as the day your son was born. A picture of him and House (which House tried to bribe you into getting rid off) also decorated the shelf.

James tucked the crown next to a photo of you and your little boy, taken by James when you first your son into the nursery, “There…your amazing mommy had that sent by a patient, a nice little girl.”

James hummed as he looked back down at the baby in his arms, who peered at his father in slight curiosity. It was like looking into a mirror, if the mirror only reflected one’s eyes. James smiled as he looked at your miniature, with the exceptions of James’s eyes. He smiled, “I’m sure you’ll be making your own paper crowns in no time, hm?”

Author’s Note: hi hi! I hope you enjoyed, I did find it super cute to write. Don’t be afraid to send more requests ( I’d personally love some Foreman ones ngl )

[pomegranateshrimp]

Greg House x Fem! Reader

Kinktober day 1: Boot worship

Summary: You had been extremely distracted, more or less hot and bothered the whole day. You couldn’t focus on any of your work. House walks into your office to check on you and notices you checking out his boots a little too long.

A/n: you have an office because, why not? Idk. It worked better. Also Ik this is behind schedule I’m really sorry I’ve been busy with family problems. Also I’m making my own list for kinktober bc I didn’t like a lot of the prompts sorryyy. Also this is kinda short.

Nsfw under cut

You were trying to focus your hardest on the paperwork you were doing on your desk. You hadn’t been all too present mentally speaking. You had your mind on something else. You couldn’t pin point why but for some reason you were just so fucking horny today. Probably had something to do with you ovulating. So horny, that in fact you couldn’t even do your job. Sure, you got the work done, but you weren’t at your best, and House could tell. You worked on the diagnostics team and were, admittedly, his favorite. He payed close attention to you whenever you did, anything really. He watched your every move like a hawk, and he knew when something was up, and he wouldn’t let it go until you told him. This time, it was different. Obviously you can’t just tell your boss you were super horny and that’s why you couldn’t do your job well enough today. You just had to hope he wouldn’t talk to you about it.

The universe just had to have a personal vendetta against you. You were convinced of it. Someone had opened your door and walked into your office. Without knocking. Only one person you knew who did that. House.

“Knock knock” he imitated the sound while looking down at you as you did your paperwork.

“What do you want Greg?” You didn’t want to talk to him. Not because you didn’t like him. You liked him a lot. You just didn’t want to spill the beans about how much you wanted to fuck him, and you knew if he pestered you long enough you’d either admit it or lash out on him. Neither one being good.

“Someone’s fussy.” He raises his eyebrows, comes into the room and closes the door behind him, leaning on it as he speaks. “What’s wrong with you today? You seem a bit… gone.” He makes a weird motion with his hand above his head.

“Nothing. Drop it. Im fine.” ‘Please leave now’ you thought to yourself. You couldn’t look directly at him but didn’t want to totally dismiss his presence either. You settled by looking at his boots. They looked new. Black and sleek. Doc Martens. Your state grew unknowingly as he stared at you.

“Really? Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’.” He didn’t move from the door but shifted his posture, standing more straight than before.

“Why does it matter to you anyways?” You retorted back. You were being rude but it came from a place of good. All you wanted was for him to leave your office and for your day to be over so you can go home and finger yourself to sleep.

“It doesn’t. Until it affects your ability to do your job. Which it seems like it has. Therefore, it’s my business, and it matters.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes just moving between the paperwork on your desk and his boots.

“What’s wrong? I get dirt on them or something?” He sarcastically asked and pretended to inspect them.

“Oh, n-no.. sorry.” You were caught so extremely off guard by him noticing your stare. You moved your gaze back to the paperwork but because he wasn’t leaving you lifted your eyes every now and them to his boots.

“Hmm, let’s see..” he started “you’ve been bright red all day, unable to focus, and now you’re staring at my boots, and it’s certainly not because they’re dirty. Hmm..” he puts a hand to his chin and pretends to be in deep thought for a few moments before speaking up again, this time with a shocking ‘omg’ sound. “I got it! You’re horny.” He was now moving from the door and walking towards you.

“That’s— that’s ridiculous please I-”

“You sure? All evidence points to me being right.” He now stood in front of your desk, chin resting on his cane, looking back at your surprised, crimson red face. “I will say though, the boot thing definitely came as a surprise. Didn’t think you were into that kinda stuff.”

“Even if I am, what are you going to do about it? Or did you just want to know?” You rolled your eyes. There was a certain annoyance in your voice because you immediately assumed once he knew he’d just leave the room, but to your surprise he stayed.

“Gee I don’t know, you seem desperate enough to fuck a shoe! By god, I wonder if there’s anyone willing to let you get off by riding their new Doc Martens. Get on your knees.”

You were shocked by the change of voice from his usual sarcastic tone to a much more demanding one now, but you liked it. You needed him so much right now and he was just letting you have him. If this was a wet dream, you didn’t want to wake up. You got out of your chair and compiled to his demand.

“You might wanna take your clothes off first.” He told you and you threw everything you were wearing to the side, not caring about anything anymore, just chasing that high you so desperately needed. Without warning, he moved his boot in between your thighs, right up against your pussy. You gasped, moaning out and grabbing onto his leg, surprised by the suddenness of the movement. “Greg…”

“You’re so needy for me.” His raspy voice sending shivers down your spine as you began to grind on his boot. The silence of the room being rid of with heavy breaths from the both of you.

You grind on his leg harder, wanting to cum so badly despite how degrading the situation was. Riding your bosses boot in broad daylight, office unlocked. If anyone saw you…

The thought made your mind race, your breath picked up speed as your hips thrusted faster, aiming for more friction. You could feel yourself getting close, the lewd noises becoming louder and louder. “Greg I’m gonna—“ before you could even finish your sentence you came onto the boot, leaving it shiny with arousal.

“Lick it off.” The way he looked down at you was enough to give you a second orgasm. You hesitantly reached down and gave the shoe a slow, long lick, from toe to heel, looking up at Greg as you did so. You were extremely grateful that he had given you the satisfaction you wanted.

“Don’t let me see you getting distracted again after this.” He gave you a sly smirk and left the room.

[fearlesstigerquotev]

Masterlist

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Introduction

Welcome to my Tumblr! My name is Tiger and I’m a hobbyist author and Quotev Refugee. Currently, I’m using Tumblr as a backup for all my oneshot works on Quotev, as well as the occasional meme. In the future, I’d like to post more oneshots on here as well <3 Currently moving all my full stories to AO3, I have linked the account in my bio, and will link all stories as well on here.

I mainly write yandere x reader stories, dabbling in horror, thriller, and romance. Some of my stories contain smut and dubious themes. As is the case with such types of stories, please refer to the tags and trigger warnings beforehand! Read at your own discretion. Minors do not interact with me concerning R18 stories.

Asks about my thoughts on topics, stories, headcanons etc. are allowed but I do not take oneshot/story requests.

With those disclaimers out of the way, I wish you happy reading!

Please note that this is still a WIP, only stories marked with (X) are available to read currently on Tumblr and/or AO3! For works without links, please check out my Quotev page.

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New Works Post-Quotev Apocalypse

Coming soon!

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Oneshots imported from Quotev

Yandere M!Pied Piper Halloween Oneshot (X)

To see townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity. — From The Pied Piper of Hamelin: A Child's Story by Robert Browning

Winterkälte Halloween Oneshot (X)

Winterkälte: A strung-together German word that roughly translates to "winter coldness." It is a childhood folk story from Switzerland, but as far as I'm aware, there is no official name for this tale. Depending from canton to canton, many variations exist. But all of them share the following structure: A boy, his father, and their dog hike up a mountain. A blizzard causes them to take refuge in an alpine hut, where they are confronted with the personification of Death. This story is told to children in order to warn them against staying out too late, especially in the cold winter months.

Itto the Irresistible Beetle Battler (X)

Itto X F!Reader | You and your Oni boyfriend have a beetle-fight competition. Short, sweet, fluffy.

A Friendship Tested

Heizou X F!Reader | A oneshot where you are a thief and Heizou chases you through Inazuma.

My Queen

Itto X F!Reader [Royalty AU] | A short oneshot where Scaramouche is a prince, and you are his bodyguard. Even though he doesn't need one.

Study Buddies

Kaveh X F!Reader X Alhaitham [R15] | A oneshot + crackfic where you are an underclassman at the Sumeru Akademiya, and ask Alhaitham and Kaveh to tutor you before an exam. But you're a simp, and both of them have different styles of teaching.

A Wholesome Genius Invocation TCG Session

Tighnari X F!Reader [Platonic relationship] | You and your friend/mentor play an exciting round of Genius Invocation TCG. Short, sweet, fluffy.

[Reminder: Add all The Royal Tutor Oneshots]

Full stories [links to AO3]

Dies Irae — Days of Wrath [R18] | Various!M!F!Yandere Reverse Harem x F!Reader (X)

After nearly half a decade of war and turmoil, Princess (Name) hears the sound of war trumpets playing: Her empire has won the war. Being the sole heir to the throne, she is quick to rejoice and immediately rushes to provide an official statement. Fate, however, has other plans for her. When her own soldiers storm the castle and usurp the sovereign, she is faced with a nasty truth: Her childhood best friend has joined the enemy side. The kingdom has won the war, but at what price? As she navigates the treacherous web of politics, societal pressures, and negotiations, Princess (Name) finds herself forming unexpected and complex alliances with a group of captivating individuals, each with their own secrets and desires. She must not make a single misstep, lest she wants her head rolling on the ground.

Playing with Fire | Yandere Diluc x F!Reader [Royalty!AU!] (X)

After countless years of war and turmoil, Natlan has fallen. Too bad you were the War Maiden of Natlan during the conflict. In order to salvage the remnants of your country, you agree to a peace treaty brokered by the rulers of Snezhnaya and Liyue—An arranged marriage. But instead of marrying Mondstadt's sovereign, you find out you're betrothed to Duke Diluc, an esteemed nobleman from the Ragnvindr clan. He claims to be acting in your best interests, but something tells you that he cannot be trusted. And when secrets of both your pasts come to light, you find yourself struggling to maintain Teyvat‘s political stability. One wrong word could lead to your demise, a fate you must avoid at all costs.

Bad Liar | Diluc x F!Reader (Known as Malefactor on AO3) (X)

In which you, a Fatui member who is fiercely loyal to the Tsarista, is tasked with stealing the Anemo Gnosis. But Diluc, the Uncrowned King of Mondstadt, is dead-set on making your mission a living nightmare... In more ways than you could possibly imagine.

Snake Eyes | Yandere M!Naga x F!Reader

Upon the request of your former professor, you travel to India to aid his research team on their quest to find the Ivory Serpent. However, due to unprecedented circumstances, things go awry right from the start, including the disappearance of your close colleague. Paying no heed to the warnings of your team members, you head off into the mangroves in search of her, ignorant of the ancient curse the land is bound to. Before you know it, you find yourself caught in the coils of an ancient deity of the mangroves. It will take more than mere prayers to wriggle yourself free.

Infiltrator | Yandere M!Harem x M!Reader [Cyberpunk Isekai]

After a gruesome murder makes headlines, a rookie journalist finds himself chasing the scoop of a lifetime. But he soon finds out that the Underworld doesn’t give out secrets so easily, vying for control over the story only he can tell. In a world where information is the highest currency, he's the richest prize. And the crime lords he's entangled with hate sharing.

Bibliophilia | M!Yandere x GN!Reader

Getting locked inside Sanfatio Library by accident was the last thing Y/N expected. Their only option is to enter a strange stone door leading to a whimsical alternative version of the otherwise quiet and quaint library. However, they soon realize they aren't alone. Something sinister is lurking between the bookshelves, stalking their every move. The once docile and humble Y/N is forced into a race against time with only a little red book to guide them. And if they don't find the exit in time, they risk being trapped inside this demented reality forever.