#and you know i love writing healers and medics

[itstimeforstarwars]

I think it would be really funny to get a doctorate for fic writing purposes.

[thewulf]

Beneath the Healer's Touch || Azriel

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could write an ACOTAR fic with Azriel as the reader’s mate where the reader is Madja’s apprentice, but she rarely ever asks her to personally treat their patients, like she’s just there to assist with the equipment and materials and stuff and the IC never really questioned it... Read Rest Here

A/N: Wasn't planning on putting two Az fics out in a row but I just had to write this. Love it so much, thank you for the requests :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Healer Reader)

Word Count: 5.6k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy), yelling

You huddle against the rough fabric of the medical tent situated perilously close to the front lines. As Madja’s apprentice your role in the Night Court has always been subdued. Your presence nearly as invisible as the shadows where you often stand. A shy but observant female fae, you’ve adapted to watching and learning. You assisted with the preparation of healing instruments and materials rather than engaging in the direct act of healing itself. Madja, the seasoned healer you serve under has never asked you to step beyond these boundaries . That was until today.

Outside of the tent the clash and clamor of war reverberate through the air. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Inside the tent the atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and herbs being punctuated by the groans of soldiers bearing the fresh scars of battle. Each day the flow of injured warriors increases, overwhelming even Madja’s formidable skills.

Her usual calm efficiency begins to wane under the strain. Her movements growing more frantic as she tries to attend to multiple critical cases simultaneously. The limited space of the tent is filled with the wounded and the air is heavy with desperation and the iron tang of blood.

Seeing the desperation in Madja's eyes as she struggles to keep up you begin to feel the weight of every unattended soldier pressing down upon you. Your hands which were so accustomed to organizing and managing the background needs itch to do more — to heal and to help directly.

In a moment of sheer necessity Madja turns to you with a look of grave urgency. "I need you now, more than ever," she says over the din of suffering. Her voice thick with exhaustion. "You must help me heal them. We are losing too many. I have called for more help, but I need you today."

As the urgent call pierces through the chaotic sounds of the medical tent you look into Madja’s eyes feeling the weight of her plea. Your heart races but your response is calm and resolute. “I’ll do it,” you say quickly. The words almost catching in your throat.

Madja reaches out, her hand briefly squeezing yours. A gesture laden with both gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she murmurs as her voice laced with regret as she glances at the wounded waiting for attention.

You shake your head dismissing her concerns with a small, reassuring smile that you hope masks your nervousness. “It’s alright, Madja. I’ll be okay,” you assure her while stepping closer to the first of many soldiers who need your help. Your voice is stronger than you feel, imbued with a determination that you muster from the depths of your commitment to heal. Despite the personal cost.

With a deep, steadying breath you prepare yourself for the task ahead knowing each healing touch will draw the pain into your own body. But in this moment of desperate need your resolve is unwavering. You are ready to face whatever comes for the sake of those who depend on you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you step forward. Your usual place behind the scenes abandoned for the harsh reality of frontline medical work. You approach the first soldier laid out before you. His injuries severe and daunting. As you extend your hands to begin the healing a part of you recoils knowing the personal cost you will soon pay. With a deep breath you brace yourself against the incoming tide of pain that will transfer to you as you heal him accepting the burden as the price of your newfound duty.

In the stifling heat of the medical tent, you move from one soldier to the next. Your hands becoming conduits of both healing and suffering. The first soldier’s injury—a deep gash across his arm—closes under the gentle press of your palms but the sharp sting of the wound sears through you as if the blade had cut into your own flesh. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lip to keep composed as the pain lingers. It was a cruel echo of the soldier's relief.

With each healing the burden grows heavier. A fractured leg brings an ache that settles deep into your bones making you falter for a moment as you steady yourself against a tent pole. A burn from a fire spell sends waves of searing heat coursing through your skin. You struggle to maintain the calm exterior expected of a healer. Despite the agony each touch brings you press on being driven by the urgent need around you.

The soldiers were unaware of the cost you pay with each healing thank you with weak smiles and hoarse words of gratitude. You return their thanks with nods and a faint smile making sure to hide the toll their pain exacts upon you.

Throughout all of this the Inner Circle is embroiled in their own battles too consumed by strategic planning and counterattacks to notice the quiet suffering of Madja’s apprentice. They see you sometimes as a fleeting figure moving among the cots, but the depth of your sacrifice remains unseen being masked by the chaos of war and the stoic mask you wear.

The pain accumulates as a collection of injuries that are not your own yet reside within you. As the day wears on you feel yourself weakening. The physical costs of your hidden ability dragging at your limbs making each step heavier. Each breath shallower. Still, you continue, the need to help, to heal, pushing you beyond your limits. The cries of pain are a call you cannot ignore even as each healing tears a little piece from your own reserves of strength.

In the privacy of brief moments alone when you can lean against the cool canvas of the tent and close your eyes, the reality of your situation presses close, intimate, and overwhelming. How long can you sustain this? The question haunts the back of your mind, but you push it away instead focusing on the faces of those you’ve saved on the necessity of your pain for their relief. This is the path you’ve chosen. Hidden in shadows yet illuminated by the faint glow of altruism, bearing silently the scars that no one else can see.

As dusk begins to settle over the camp casting long shadows between the rows of tents Azriel returns from a skirmish. His usually composed expression tightened with discomfort. The shadows that constantly swirl around him seem agitated reflecting his unease. He carries a minor wound. A laceration on his arm that under normal circumstances would be a trivial matter for a healer of his caliber. However, this wound is tainted with faebane, a substance notorious for its ability to thwart fae healing magic.

You watch from a distance initially noticing the way he grimaces as he presses his fingers against the jagged edge of the cut attempting to coax his own magic to seal it. But the faebane embedded in the wound repels each attempt. And with each failed healing his frustration grows. An exceptionally rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Recognizing his struggle, you approach him tentatively. The weight of the day’s healings presses heavily on you. Each step toward him a battle against the fatigue that threatens to buckle your knees. “Azriel,” you call softly not wanting to startle him.

He looks up and for a brief moment you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes that were usually so guarded and unreadable were now openly display his vexation and pain. "It's this damned faebane," he mutters almost to himself as his hand falls away from the wound.

Stepping closer you offer a small, reassuring smile though your body screams in protest. “Let me try,” you whisper while extending your trembling hands towards his arm.

As your fingers brush against his skin a shock of connection jolts through you. Stronger and more profound than anything you've felt with the other soldiers. It’s as if his very soul resonates with yours. A hum of compatibility that whispers of a deeper bond. Your heart stutters in your chest but you focus on the task at hand pushing away the implications of what this connection might mean.

You press your palms to the laceration and immediately a sharp pain slices through your own arm, mirroring Azriel’s wound. You stifle a cry by biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sensation is intense, more so because it’s Azriel’s pain you’re sharing now. Despite the agony you pour your energy into the healing being driven by a newfound desperation.

Azriel watches you. His expression shifting from one of pain to concern. "You don’t have to do this," he starts. His voice rough with his own discomfort and the growing worry for yours.

But you shake your head pushing through the pain with a determination that frightens even you. "I can handle it," you lie. The words barely a whisper over the throbbing in your arm. As the faebane slowly loses its grip and the wound begins to close a wave of dizziness hits you. So strong that you sway on your feet.

As Azriel steadies you with his shadows curling anxiously around his form he is acutely aware of the pain coursing through his arm, mirroring the wound he just healed. As a shadowsinger he has always been attuned to the deeper often hidden emotions of those around him. He was capable of sensing the unspoken pains and secret fears that others carry silently. However, this experience is startlingly intense. A raw echo of agony that pulses through him with unusual clarity.

The pain he feels as you heal him doesn't feel like his own. It’s as if he’s tapped into a direct stream of your suffering. This connection, though new and unexplored, unnerves him. It is more profound than anything he has experienced through his shadows before. Almost as if the pain itself has a voice, whispering of shared suffering and mutual burden. He struggles with the realization that he is feeling your agony so vividly. The lines of empathy blurring into something deeper. Something he can't quite understand yet.

In this moment as the faebane's resistance fades and the laceration begins to heal, Azriel finds himself grappling with a mix of concern and a peculiar sense of protectiveness. The intensity of the connection doesn’t fit into the usual confines of his abilities or past experiences. While he doesn't comprehend the full extent of what this means—far from realizing the potential of a mate bond—he recognizes that something significant lies beneath the surface of this shared pain. This unexpected insight into your sacrifice doesn't just alarm him. It shifts something fundamental in how he perceives you. Compelling him to reassess the nature of your relationship and his instincts towards you.

His hands were gripping your shoulders with surprising gentleness. "What is this costing you?" he asks. His voice laced with a rare note of vulnerability having felt a trace of your suffering through the nascent bond neither of you yet understands.

You want to reassure him. To tell him it’s nothing but the shadows in his eyes seem to see through you, recognizing the depth of your sacrifice. In this shared moment of pain and healing the unspoken truth of your connection lingers heavily between you. A secret laid bare by the battle scars you both carry.

You meet Azriel's intense gaze seeing the concern etched in his features threatening to unravel the composure you've fought so hard to maintain. His hands on your shoulders feel both grounding and alarming. As if they're the only things keeping you from collapsing under the weight of your own sacrifices. "I need to keep going," you manage to say. Your voice a strained whisper that barely conceals the weariness lacing each syllable. "There are others who need me."

Trying to inject a note of reassurance into your tone you add quickly, "It's part of healing, Azriel. I'll be okay." Even as you speak the words you feel the hollowness behind them. A contrast to the truth of your pain. But you're determined not to let him see just how much it's affecting you not wanting to add to his burdens.

With a gentle but firm push against his hands you step back pulling away from his comforting grasp. "I have to go," you insist, turning towards the next cot where another soldier lies moaning in pain. You don't look back almost afraid that if you do your resolve will crumble under the weight of his worry and the unspoken connection that you both feel but don't yet understand. You move forward, each step fueled by a mix of duty and the urgent need to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the complicated emotions it stirs within you.

Azriel was still visibly troubled by the earlier interaction. With your evident strain he insists on accompanying you as you move from one wounded soldier to another. His presence is a silent, watchful shadow that lingers just at the edge of your vision. While the others of the Inner Circle are engaged in the throes of battle, Azriel has chosen to remain by your side. A decision that speaks more of his concern than any words could.

As you press on each healing session takes more from you. Draining your energy, drawing more of your strength. Azriel observes closely noting the increasing pallor of your skin and the subtle tremors in your hands each time you withdraw them from a wound. Despite your attempts to mask your pain, each expression, each falter does not escape his vigilant gaze.

As you lean over a severely wounded soldier focusing intently on sealing a deep, life-threatening laceration the accumulated pain from your healings surges like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. The sharp and unyielding agony lashes through you, blurring your vision and weakening your knees. You feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your consciousness threatening to pull you under.

In a desperate bid to maintain control you reach out not for Azriel but for the tent’s support pole—a futile attempt to steady yourself. Yet, your hands grasp only air as your strength finally fails. Before you can process the fall Azriel’s arms are around you. His reaction swift and sure. He pulls you gently against him cushioning your collapse as he lowers both of you smoothly to the floor of the tent.

In this moment your pride battles with the undeniable relief of his support. You hadn't called for him. You hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been right about the danger of your condition, yet here he is, the one catching you as you fall. His presence is both a comfort and a confrontation. A not-so-subtle reminder of your own vulnerability.

Azriel cradles you against his chest. His expression a mask of concern etched deep with the lines of fear for your well-being. He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting to brush a gentle hand across your forehead, pushing away strands of hair matted with sweat. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s both trying to comfort you and reassure himself of your presence.

Around you the battle's distant roars continue but within the tent a quiet bubble of stillness envelops you both punctuated only by your labored breaths. Azriel’s gaze is locked on your face searching for any sign of recovery. Looking for any indication that you might overcome this bout of weakness.

In his eyes there is a flicker of something more—something beyond mere concern. It's a profound realization of your sacrifice. Of the silent suffering you've endured to heal others. And with this realization comes a fierce protectiveness. A vow forming in the depths of his being. He holds you closer, a silent promise cradled in the curve of his arms, that from this moment forward he will do whatever it takes to protect you. To ensure that this burden of pain is no longer yours to bear alone. The bond between you seemingly mysterious and undefined becomes his anchor. The thing he clings to as he silently pledges to be the safeguard you might not admit you need but he knows you deserve.

The pain you've been shouldering now echoes clearly through the bond that neither of you fully understands yet. But its intensity is unmistakable. Azriel feels each pang as if it were his own. A shared torment that binds you together with an ironclad tether. His face was mere inches from yours and is etched with deep concern and something akin to fear. "Hold on," he urges. His voice a low, desperate command. "Stay with me."

As Azriel holds you in his arms feeling the distressing ebb of your consciousness his protective instincts surge into high alert. The warmth from your body seems to be fading and your breathing becomes worryingly shallow. Typical signs that your physical limits have been catastrophically breached. Panic tightens its grip on him. A vivid contrast to the usual calm demeanor of the shadowsinger.

"Madja!" he calls out desperately. His voice piercing the relative quiet of the tent with an urgency that rattles the air. The shadows around him stir reflecting his growing desperation. He needs her expertise, her understanding of your mysterious condition that now seems perilously close to claiming you.

Madja rushes through the flaps of the tent with her healer's bag clutched tightly, the sight that greets her—a formidable Azriel cradling you, pale and barely conscious—draws a sharp intake of breath from her. She kneels beside you both. Her experienced eyes quickly assessing your condition.

"What happened?" she demands. Her voice thick with worry and confusion. As she lays her hands on you seeking to gauge the extent of your depletion Azriel's gaze hardens.

"She's been healing the soldiers, taking their pain onto herself," Azriel explains. His words rushed. His tone laced with both accusation and fear. "She collapsed just now. How could you not know the toll it was taking on her?"

Madja's expression crumbles into one of profound guilt and regret. She meets Azriel's intense gaze with a resigned sorrow. "I knew," she admits. Her voice a whisper of remorse. "I knew, but I thought we could manage it—keep it under control. I feared the implications of her gift being fully exposed. I thought I was protecting her."

Azriel’s anger wanes slightly instead replaced by a sharp pang of understanding. He knows all too well the complexities of hiding one's true capabilities in a world that might not understand or might exploit them. However, his concern for your well-being remains paramount.

"She needs help now, Madja. What can we do?" he asks with his voice softening but still tinged with urgency.

Madja nods. Her focus turning entirely to you. "I can stabilize her for now, but we need to rethink how she uses her gift," she says as she begins to channel her own healing magic into you. A gentle flow designed not to heal but to sustain.

As Madja works Azriel holds you closer. His thoughts racing with concern and resolve. He watches the slight return of warmth to your cheeks under Madja’s skilled care, feeling a blend of relief and determination surge through him. A promise forms in his heart. Not merely to protect you but to truly understand and support your unique gift, no matter the cost.

However, the demands of the ongoing battle pull at him. Madja noticed the conflict in his expression speaks with a calm authority. "She must rest now, Azriel," she advises with her voice steady. "And they need you. The battle isn't over yet."

Reluctantly Azriel nods. The weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. He leans down with his lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. His assurance of returning to you. "I'll be back soon," he promises. His voice a whisper meant only for you. With one last lingering look that conveys all his worry and care he stands and leaves the tent. His figure soon disappearing into the fray.

The war rages on demanding every ounce of Azriel's focus and skill. Yet his thoughts frequently stray back to the medical tent, to you, lying there in recovery. Each moment he can spare he finds himself glancing towards the tent. His mind racing with scenarios of returning to you.

As the last echoes of battle fade and a weary peace begins to settle, Azriel's duties finally allow him a moment to breathe. He wastes no time. The moment he is able he rushes back to the medical tent with his steps quick with urgency and anticipation. Pushing through the tent flaps, Azriel’s eyes immediately seek you out. He finds you awake but visibly exhausted propped up against some pillows. The sight of you, alive and recovering, though still weak floods him with relief.

“I’m here,” Azriel breathes out as he quickly crosses the space to your side before kneeling beside your cot. His hand reaches out brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that belies his warrior's exterior. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice low and filled with concern. His eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Azriel’s presence instantly eases some of the weight pressing down on you and relief softens your features. "I'm exhausted," you admit but manage a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, just need some rest." Your eyes meet his and even in your weariness there's an undeniable relief that reflects back from his gaze. An unspoken understanding of the solace you both find in each other’s presence after the chaos of battle.

"You had us worried for a while there," Azriel says. His voice a mix of relief and mild reprimand. His eyes scan your face still searching for signs of pain or lingering fatigue. His concern palpable but not overwhelming. "Madja told me you'd recover but seeing it for myself makes all the difference."

Your smile deepens slightly at his words. You were grateful for his concern and the straightforward honesty that always marked your interactions. "I'll be fine, Azriel. Really," you assure him with your tone aiming to put him at ease. "It's good to have you back though."

In the days following the battle, as the camp slowly transitions from a place of urgent healing back to routine operations, your strength begins to return. With each passing day the pain and exhaustion that had once clouded your vision start to fade instead replaced by a growing vigor that Madja assures you is a good sign of recovery. Azriel, true to his word, visits often. His presence a constant reassurance as the camp breaks down around you. The war finally declared over.

Once you're deemed well enough to travel Azriel accompanies you back to Velaris. The journey was facilitated by the magic of winnowing is quick but disorienting. A dramatic shift from the dusty tents and the sharp smells of medicine to the lush, serene beauty of the Night Court. Back in Velaris the city seems to embrace you both with open arms. The familiar sights and sounds of the vibrant city life, the cobblestone streets lit by lanterns and the murmur of the Sidra River, provide a comforting backdrop to your continued recovery.

A few nights after your return, once you feel stronger and more like yourself, Azriel invites you to join him on a balcony overlooking Velaris. The balcony was part of a high vantage point in the House of Wind and offers a breathtaking view of the city spread out beneath a canopy of stars. The transition from the harsh realities of war to this peaceful setting marks a significant shift in your healing process—both physical and emotional.

Seated together on the balcony the atmosphere between you is one of tentative peace. A reprieve from the chaos of the battlefield. The evening air is cool and carrying the gentle scent of night-blooming flowers. There’s a quiet that allows for softer, more intimate conversation. Here with the distance from the front lines you both find the space to reflect on the recent events and the impact they’ve had on each of you discussing thoughts and feelings that the war left little room to explore.

This tranquil setting in Velaris which was far removed from the demands of war allows you both to see each other in a new light. Appreciating the resilience and strength each has shown, and perhaps, beginning to understand the deeper bond that seems to have formed in the crucible of conflict.

Azriel breaks the silence between you with a gentle voice reflecting the calm of the night. "I've been thinking about your healing abilities. About your gift," he says before pausing as if searching for the right way to broach the subject without overstepping. "It's a heavy burden you've carried… taking on others' pain."

You nod appreciating his careful approach. "It can be overwhelming," you admit. Your voice low. Sharing this truth with him feels both vulnerable and relieving. "Especially knowing that each time I heal, I take a little bit of that pain into myself."

The softness of his gaze as he looks at you speaks volumes, and he shifts slightly closer. "Perhaps we can find a way to ease that burden," he suggests. "Explore methods to shield you or at least to share the load." The idea of sharing this part of your life with Azriel, having him understand and perhaps help carry the weight, brings a warmth to your heart. It’s a tentative step towards deeper connection and you find yourself hoping for more.

"And how about us?" Azriel adds after a moment, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. "These past weeks, feeling everything that you have felt... it’s made me realize how deeply connected I am to you. More than I anticipated." The admission hangs in the air and is charged with an unspoken depth of emotion. You felt it too. The inexplicable pull towards him. Something beyond mere friendship.

You smile a soft, genuine expression that lights up your eyes. "I feel it too," you confess. "It's like there’s something between us, something... more."

The conversation flows more freely now, the initial hesitance giving way to a hopeful exploration of what might be. Neither of you mentions the word 'mates,' still dancing around the full depth of your bond, but there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of your connection.

As the night deepens between you, you and Azriel make promises. Not grand declarations but quiet vows to support each other. To explore the depth of your bond and understand the extent of your powers together. It's a mutual commitment filled with the promise of discovering not just the mysteries of your abilities but also the potential of what you could be to each other.

With the city of Velaris sparkling below and the tranquil night wrapping around you there’s a sense of beginning. Of possibilities waiting to be explored. Together you watch the stars comforted by the presence of each other and hopeful for the future.

In the quiet of the pre-dawn, you and Azriel linger on the balcony ensconced in the gentle embrace of Velaris' early morning serenity. The sky is a tapestry of deep blues and purples and begins to lighten at the horizon, heralding the dawn. The air around you is charged with the quiet anticipation of the world waking up. A fitting backdrop for the profound moment unfolding between you.

Azriel's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly elsewhere—on the revelations of the night, on the words that now hover on the edge of being spoken. Finally, he turns to you with his expression open. He was vulnerable in a way that you've seldom seen from the reserved shadowsinger. "There's something undeniable about the connection between us," he begins. His voice soft, reverent almost. "It goes beyond what we’ve had. Beyond friendship.” You meet his gaze feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. It's a truth you've sensed but haven't dared to define until this moment.

Finally finding the courage to speak what he’s discovered he steps closer making sure to bridge the gap between you. His presence enveloping you in warmth. "I've felt every echo of your pain, every ripple of your joy as if they were my own. It's more than just empathy… it's a bond, a deep, unbreakable bond." His hands find yours. His touch gentle but firm. "I believe we're mates," he says. The words charged with emotion and an unspoken plea for you to feel the same.

Your heart leaps. The simplicity and sincerity of his admission cutting through any lingering doubts. You smile, not just with your lips but with your entire being, accepting the truth of his words and the bond they confirm. "Azriel, I've sensed it as well," you reply with your voice soft yet filled with wonder. "It’s as if there’s been a song woven into the fabric of our days, subtle yet persistent, waiting for us to finally hear it and understand its tune."

Azriel's smile in response is a thing of quiet joy. A uniquely rare and tender sight that stirs something deep within you. He pulls you gently closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace. The city around you awakening as the first light of dawn spills over the edges of the world.

In the tranquil embrace of dawn Azriel holds you close. His heart beating a tentative rhythm against yours. His voice carries a rare vulnerability that makes the air around you thrum with the weight of his words. “Do you want that?" he asks softly. His breath warm against your hair. "To always be there for each other. To face whatever this world throws at us, together, as one?"

He pulls back slightly as his hands were still gently cradling your face. His eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. This question isn't merely rhetorical. It's a genuine, open-ended inquiry into your desires. A request for your heart's agreement with his. Azriel's usual certainty is replaced by an endearing, hopeful uncertainty. Highlighting how deeply he values your consent and participation in this burgeoning bond.

You look into his eyes. Into those deep pools of night that have seen so much sorrow and solitude, now laced with tender hope. The dawn casts its first gentle rays illuminating the sincerity and slight apprehension on his face. This moment, this question, isn't just about confirming a bond. It's about choosing to build a future together.

"Yes, Azriel," you respond. Your voice steady and sure, a soft yet resolute affirmation that echoes the depth of your own feelings. "I want that more than anything."

Azriel's response is immediate. His eyes reflecting a profound relief and joy that seem to brighten the very air around him. A broad, genuine smile spreads across his face transforming his usually stoic expression into one of pure elation.

"You've just made me the happiest male in all of Prythian," he breathes out as his voice is rich with emotion. The sincerity in his words resonates deeply echoing the significance of your acceptance.

His arms pull you closer. The warmth of his embrace enveloping you as he whispers, "We'll face everything together, side by side. No matter what comes we won't face it alone."

"Always," you echo back, your voice a soft yet resolute affirmation. The certainty in your agreement strengthens the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and mutual understanding setting a path forward together in the intertwining dance of your shared lives.

Azriel’s smile deepens at your words. His relief and joy palpable. The certainty of your mutual promise solidifies the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and understanding. His hands that still cradling your face shift slightly and his fingers brush tenderly across your lips. A touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine.

The intimate gesture holds a world of meaning. As he gazes into your eyes the warmth and intensity of his emotions are clear. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Then with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more he pulls you in for a kiss.

What starts as a gentle meeting of lips soon transforms into a kiss filled with passion and longing. As if all the emotions and realizations of the past days and weeks are being poured into this single, breathtaking moment. Azriel’s kiss is both a promise and a declaration, sealing the bond between you with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

Your arms wrap around him pulling him closer responding to the depth of his kiss with equal intensity. The world around you fades away leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment that transcends everything else. As the kiss lingers it becomes clear that this is not just a bond forged in the fires of battle but a connection that will shape your future, side by side, whatever may come.

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Request Taglist: @aelinwya @mira-says

[banj0possum]

Hello, I'm the person who requested the yandere orc and I just wanted to say I loved it! At the end of that request I said I would ask for minotaur if you didn't do orc. But I still want to request yandere minotaur because I am a big fan of how you write yandere stuff. So can you please write yandere minotaur x reader.

(I would like it if the minotaur was just a hunk of muscle that no one would dare mess with, but becomes putty for reader. If you have another idea, use it!)

Flowers For My Cleric

Yandere! Minotaur x GN Reader

Edit!! Nsfw content removed! Replaced with some extra fluff!!

🌾 Ashvan was a part of a clan of warriors, ones that are feared and respected for their strength and brutality throughout the land.

🌾 He's seen fighters of all kinds from the biggest orcs and golitaths to the smallest goblins and kobalts. He's seen almost everything and everyone on the battlefield.

🌾 But nothing prepared him for you.

🌾 You looked so small and soft compared to everyone else. So out of place from the rough and tough warriors with bodies decorated in scars and tattoos.

🌾 It was during a welcoming feast that he first met you. You were the newest member of the clan and everyone welcomed you warmly.

🌾 He asked one of his close friends what your deal was and he learned that you were supposed to be their healer.

🌾 Vibrant music played in the tavern, but all he could see and hear was you and your adorable little laugh.

🌾 Your smile shined like the sun and your movements were so graceful and soft.

🌾 You went around meeting everyone, occasionally healing a fresh wound or two until he came face to face with you in all your glory.

🌾 "H-hi.."

🌾 "Hi!.."

🌾 He's almost crumbling at the sight of you. It's the first time he's ever been nervous.

🌾 Never before has he felt such a feeling, not even when he was facing the deadliest foes. How is a big and tough minotaur like himself shaking at the feet of such a gentle creature?

🌾 You start to laugh awkwardly the more he just kept staring at you. You pat his arm comfortingly before moving on to greet the rest of the clan.

🌾 It felt as if he was touched with the finest silk!

🌾 You'd run into him quite often while in the clan. You'd see him laughing with his friends with confidence and pride in his walk, but the moment you say hello, he'd be reduced to a stuttering babbling mess trying to say hi back. His friends would have to bring him away from you so he won't embarrass himself further.

🌾 "O-oh! Hello cleric! W-we were just uh..going to spar, you can join us if you want..b-but you don't have to! I mean you're probably busy but I would love to have you there..n-not to spar though! I mean you can..but you can watch..I-I'm not calling you weak or anything! You probably can take care of yourself pretty well, b-but if you ever need anyone to protect you, you know..o-only if you want to-"

🌾 He follows you around sometimes, pretending to be doing something else like carrying around some supplies or sharpening his weapon. When you turn away, he would have a lovesick smile on his face.

🌾 If you catch him staring, he'd panic and try to hide behind a barrel or crate, doesn't really help that he's a large minotaur. You'd giggle at the sight of a tall and fearsome creature hiding from you as best as he could with his tail and horns peeking through the crate.

🌾 "M-me? Hiding? Noooo! I-I don't need to hide! I-I'm a warrior!..heheh.."

🌾 His friends would try to help him out, telling him advice that may or may not work. I don't think gifting your crush the head of your enemies is pretty romantic though...

🌾 You would be fixing up your medical supplies when you feel a tap on your shoulder, you turn around and Ashvan would be towering above you, shakily offering you a small, sort of roughed up bouquet of wild flowers in his large cloven hand.

🌾 Some of the stems look a bit bent and most of their petals have fallen off, but it's cute either way.

🌾 "C-Cleric! I uhm...found these uhm..flowers and uh..thought of you!..Well they're small and cute..n-not saying you're small! I-I mean you are because I'm bigger and stuff and uhm...j-just take them.."

🌾 You giggle and thank him, taking the flowers from him. He huffs out from his snout as your hands touch. As you take the flowers from him, he grunts, nodding as he awkwardly walks away.

🌾 As soon as he's out of sight, he's giggling like a little schoolgirl at the thought of you liking his gift, he's going off to get more flowers for you if you don't mind.

🌾 He might confuse normal plants he finds cute as flowers, so you now have a vase full of yellow wheat he got from a field one day.

🌾 The first time he was sent to be healed by you was like being in heaven. He watched you closely as you gently healed the gash on his chest as if it was a seam on a fabric.

🌾 He took the time to study your face, how you stuck your tongue out or pursed your lips when you concentrate, or the way you ghost your delicate fingers over his rough skin, it took a lot not to swoon as you touched his chest.

🌾 "You're uhm...very good with your hands! hahah.."

🌾 Yes he steals your clothes, and its ok because you have more anyway that he'll also eventually steal...

🌾 He would get hurt on purpose to see you again and be touched by you, going to bed that night and fantasizing about you coddling and cooing over him. Hey! Even a big burly minotaur wants to be treated right!!

🌾 But for now, he's just a shy and nervous bull man who adores you from far away <3

[atlabeth]

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly. 

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere. 

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off. 

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray. 

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table. 

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them. 

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate. 

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t. 

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them. 

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened. 

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring. 

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”  

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—” 

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?” 

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors. 

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.” 

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol. 

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.” 

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you. 

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.” 

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion. 

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.” 

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.” 

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—” 

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.” 

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.” 

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.” 

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.” 

You nodded. “With my life.” 

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way. 

2. The Pelican 

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken. 

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots. 

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at. 

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind. 

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.” 

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.” 

“So we meet again,” you said placidly. 

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.” 

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?” 

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.” 

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.” 

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder. 

“Will you sit still?” you snapped. 

“I am,” Nikolai said. 

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.” 

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.” 

You scowled, only making his smile grow. 

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.” 

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.” 

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.” 

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.” 

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.” 

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly. 

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?” 

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused. 

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.  

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything. 

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.” 

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.” 

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point. 

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving. 

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently. 

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.” 

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.” 

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims. 

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.” 

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away. 

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka. 

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?” 

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back. 

When you did, he was gone. 

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all. 

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart. 

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle? 

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over. 

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause. 

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Vlachka for your thoughts?” 

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood. 

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King. 

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said. 

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.” 

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.” 

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?” 

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?” 

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.” 

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—” 

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.” 

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.” 

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.” 

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”  

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.” 

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly. 

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.” 

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either. 

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.” 

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?” 

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again. 

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.” 

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?” 

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.” 

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it. 

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina. 

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly. 

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.” 

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long. 

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile. 

He knew exactly what he did to you. 

4. The Bittern 

Sergei sold you out. 

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get. 

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite. 

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save. 

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did. 

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over. 

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds. 

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

And then your mind went to Nikolai. 

Nikolai. 

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety. 

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway. 

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?” 

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured. 

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?” 

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.” 

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle. 

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds. 

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate. 

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it. 

Saints, you wished you had. 

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai. 

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.” 

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you. 

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone. 

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling. 

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much. 

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened. 

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done. 

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it. 

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered. 

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel. 

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger. 

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him. 

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.” 

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?” 

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up. 

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were. 

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there. 

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part. 

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place. 

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.  

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much. 

5. The Shadow Fold 

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!” 

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall. 

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first. 

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning. 

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai. 

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?” 

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened. 

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name. 

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?” 

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back. 

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.” 

Darling. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.” 

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.” 

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.” 

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?” 

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.” 

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?” 

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.” 

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.” 

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said. 

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.” 

“Good.” 

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai. 

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?” 

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.” 

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.” 

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up. 

The Darkling’s Skiff 

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead. 

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive. 

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.” 

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.” 

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.” 

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled. 

A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.” 

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on. 

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.” 

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.” 

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered. 

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—” 

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.” 

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating. 

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.” 

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had. 

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.” 

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai. 

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest. 

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.” 

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place. 

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you. 

And for now, that was more than enough. 

[twistedbloodstain]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[oceaneyesinla]

ROXY!!! hmmmmmm if you feel so inclined: platonic wound dressing after a mission with giyu? i love your giyu btw that's my guy 💜

Fallon how did you know I was desperate to write for Giyuu again?! Also, thank you I'm crying - I always worry I'm not doing his character justice!

Requests OPEN

Tending to Giyuu's Wounds

Platonic Giyuu & Reader

Divider by @/cafekitsune

You couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of Giyuu at your door, his usual blank expression on his face even as he dripped blood all over your engawa. Your eyes followed it back to the source - a thick gash in his forearm, straight through both his uniform jacket and the undershirt. The edges were jagged, and you were already mentally planning how best to repair the wound as you ushered him inside. You were relieved to see his haori was undamaged, draped over his uninjured arm. The garment was worth more to him than any treasure in the world.

He murmured a soft thanks as he passed you, settling himself into an all too familiar position on the floor, cross-legged and watching you move around your home. His sword was placed off to his right, and he handed you his haori without question, gratitude in his eyes when you handled it with care, following the familiar steps to fold the fabric and placing it on the little table you kept in the main room.

“Didn't I tell you to be more careful?” Your admonishment was not nearly as harsh as it could have been - more a gentle rebuke than true anger. Still, a little frown made its way onto his face and you tried to soothe it by running a hand over his hair as you passed to the cupboard where your supplies were kept.

“The demon was attacking a new Slayer. I was more focused on them than myself.” Of course he was. Giyuu was aloof and reserved, but you were lucky enough to know better than the front he showed the world. 

He told you a little more about his latest mission as you neatly stitched the wound on his arm, and you had to hold back another sigh when he told you just where he was instructed to go. You knew full well that he was closer to the Butterfly Mansion than to your home, and there was at least one Wisteria House between his mission site and here.

You didn't ask why, though. You had, once before, when he had decided to come to you rather than his fellow Hashira or the Wisteria House where they could summon a doctor rather than a simple village healer. He had just looked up at you and explained with a single sentence, “You're nice to me.”

Your heart clenched at the memory - Giyuu had a way of saying such meaningful things without ever realising the gravity of his words. You knew his trust was hard won, and that statement had just steeled your resolve to watch over him. To be a friend, to be someone he could always turn to - even when he was injured and even when he was not.

He didn't move a muscle as you worked and he didn't complain, leaving you to hope that the pain medicine you gave him was working. Yes, he was strong, and his pain tolerance was better than any you had come across before, but that didn't mean he should be in pain. If you had your way, he would never know pain again. Unfortunately, you were no god, nor could you erase the demons that terrorised this land. So, instead, you would dose him with painkillers and tend to his injuries and try as hard as you could to heal the wounds in his heart, too - the ones you knew ran deeper than any physical scar he attained in his duties.

Once you finished your stitching - which probably took longer than needed, but he deserved your best efforts - you cleaned the wound again. The last thing he needed was an infection. Bandages finished your care, and you patted his hand when you were done, rising to your feet to begin the process of tidying away your bloodied rags and medical supplies.

Giyuu tried to get up and help you, but you fixed him in place with a glare, “Stay put, Giyuu. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

A shake of his head reassured you, and you gave him a soft smile as your hand found the crown of his head once again. He relaxed under your touch and you saw a flash of emotion cross his eyes before he looked away, playing with the torn fabric of his now damaged jacket. What he saw when he looked at you, you weren’t sure, but you hoped it brought him some small comfort. 

“Come on, Giyuu.” You didn’t look back as you headed towards the kitchen, knowing that he would be trailing behind you, probably with that adorable confused frown on his face, “I’m assuming you haven’t eaten? You need to take care of yourself.”

“You sound like Granny Hinata.” Giyuu was pointedly avoiding your eyes when you turned to playfully glare at him, but the little smirk on his face gave him away. It wasn’t often Giyuu allowed himself the luxury of levity, and you let yourself bask in the light of his averted gaze, warm with hidden laughter.

You rolled your eyes, “Forgive me for caring.” You dumped the rags in his hands and pointed him towards the back room, “Go put these to soak. I’ll make a start on cooking.”

He did as you asked without complaint, and you began pulling out the ingredients of Giyuu’s favourite meal. With him coming around more often, whether to seek out your medical skills or just to check in, you kept the makings of this meal on hand.

A few minutes later, you heard the lightest of footsteps, signalling Giyuu’s return. You expected him to appear at your side, quietly offering to help so when he didn’t, you turned to face him. The expression he wore … he looked far younger than his twenty years in that moment, and it wasn’t at all hard for you to imagine a little boy, with ocean blue eyes and a smile brighter than the summer sun. You knew some small details of his life - there was once a beloved sister, and a treasured friend; both lost to the demons he now devoted his life to destroying. You wondered if you would ever get to witness that little boy with your own eyes, or if he was lost forever.

Then Giyuu smiled, and while it wasn’t that sunshine smile you saw in your mind’s eye, it was beautiful nevertheless; like moonlight on the water, lighting up the dark. Your lips crept up into a smile of your own, and you both fell into a comfortable silence as you worked. When you watched him devour his daikon like he hadn’t eaten in a week, rice stuck to his cheek and a smile on his face, you couldn’t help the warmth spreading through you. Never mind what others thought - this boy was worth the effort of understanding, at least to you.

******************

Giyuu stayed at your house that night. You refused to let him leave - forcing some spare clothes into his hands and laying out an extra futon for him. Someone had to care for him, and you were happy to step into the role for as long as he would allow. 

A few days after his departure, you woke to the sound of tapping on your door. When you opened it, you had to smile - it was Kanzaburo, Giyuu’s Kasugai crow. It was sweet, the way Giyuu insisted on keeping the bird by his side, even as he grew increasingly confused and unreliable. The crow hopped up to your feet, bumping his head into your ankle before holding out his leg for you to remove the little package attached there.

You untied the neat little knot, rubbing a finger over Kanzaburo’s head as you did so. You were growing fond of him, just like you had grown fond of his Hashira. The crow didn’t linger long, flying away after another affectionate head bop, this time to your hand.

There was a note attached, and when you unfolded the paper, you found one simple phrase, ‘Thank you’

So simple, yet you understood exactly what he wanted to say. It became even more apparent when you opened the little bundle to find a ribbon in pretty shimmering fabric, just like the ones you always used to tie your hair back, and a little wooden carving of a fox. The stitching on the ribbon was slightly messy and crooked, while the carving was a little rough around the edges.

Cradling the precious treasures in your hands, you knew you would cherish them forever. To earn the trust of a boy like Tomioka Giyuu was not a gift to be taken for granted. You headed inside, already deciding just where your new fox friend would live, and already looking forward to Giyuu’s next visit.

[andersonsprincess]

Fever - Clarisse La Rue

summary: clarisse comes into the infirmary with a fever

characters: clarisse , daughter of apollo!reader

contents: maybe ooc clarisse (?) , shes such a sweetheart , sorta needy clarisse , mediocre writing

word count: 445

a/n - this is my first time writing for the public so yk 😭 im open to suggestions 🫶🏾

it was an unusually slow day in the camp half-blood infirmary. not many demigods came in today so you being the nice cabin counselor you were decided to let the rest of your healer siblings have a day of training instead of medical care.

you were sitting back in a chair soaking in the natural light the windows let in when you heard the door open due to the chimes hanging from the doorframe.

you quickly opened your eyes to see none other than the clarisse la rue.

you see, to your average camper, clarisse was like a poison dart frog. everyone and i mean everyone knew not to piss her off. she was like your own personal hellhound just minus the fact that shes a demigod and hellhounds are dogs.

she looks around for you before she locks eyes with you and you smile at her.

"hello clair, to what do i owe the pleasure?"

she rolled her eyes. "speak normally please." you chuckled in response, gesturing her to sit on one of the beds.

"so what's the problem?"

"does there have to be a problem? can't a girl just want to see her girlfriend?"

you smile at her sweetness. "aww thats so-"

"don't ruin it."

you roll your eyes this time starting to walk over to her.

"y'know you're really sweet when you're passive."

she groans dismissively.

"okay grizzly bear," you get to her and place your hands on her shoulders looking down at her. "really, whats up?"

her head hangs low resting gently on your stomach. she resists the urge to completely rest herself on you.

you take your hand and press it to her forehead in an attempt to lift her head up but you're quick to notice the fiery warmth coming from her forehead.

"pretty bad fever you have here sweet girl."

she grumbles softly.

she lifts her head up and gently grabs your waist. her eyes almost look as if they're pleading.

you raise an eyebrow. "is there something you need?"

she scoffs and rolls her eyes. you know what she wants but you're not taking the attitude.

she grumbles something under her breath.

"what was that bubs? couldn't hear 'ya."

she sighs deeply. "can you -- can you kiss me?

you smile and sit on the bed next to her and kiss her lips gently.

she sighs as you kiss her, placing her hands on your waist once again gently kissing you as if if she were any rougher you'd crack.

other campers were always scared of clarisse but you weren't because they didn't know her like you did and she wouldn't ever love them like she did you.

[hazy-smiles]

Easy Smiles (Dan Feng x masc!GN!reader (platonic or romantic))

Hello everyone this is my Dan Feng fic that no one asked for.

The reader is implied to be masc or gn, and I don't write for fem. I hope someone enjoys this :)

(Relationship is teetering on the edge of romantic and platonic, who knows. I don't.)

"I don't find this to be enjoyable, you know."

Dan Feng's tone is bitter, but he wraps the bandage gently all the same. As the white cloth winds around your hand, carefully between your fingers, his hand gently supports your wrist as he stands in front of you, seated on the medical cot.

In the seemingly endless war against the abundance, you sit in a small medical tent in a brief moment of peace. It seems like things have calmed down, but you know better. Things will likely escalate once more, like a windy day being the warning of a storm to come.

Of course, you hadn't hoped to put him in this situation. As talented of a healer as he is, Dan Feng derives no pleasure from carefully bandaging up the few friends and loved ones he treasures. You can tell from the slight squint of his eyes, the tenseness in his shoulders as cloudhymn blooms from his fingertips. It's always been quite beautiful. He's always been quite-

"Did you hear me?"

Dan Feng's soft yet icy gaze meets yours once again, and you snap your attention up from the swirls of azure and turquoise that make your skin tingle before soothingly cooling it.

"I did," you grin sheepishly.

"And?"

"I will be more careful."

Dan Feng opens his mouth as if to argue, 'no, you won't be, you reckless fool', before he snaps it shut and squeezes your hand firmly before releasing it.

He sighs and tilts his head up to face the ceiling.

"Praying to your ancestors for patience, or something?" It's a horrible joke. You know it's not the greatest thing to come out of your mouth. But your friend is stressed and it's admittedly your fault, so you can give yourself the grace to forgive yourself for it.

Dan Feng drops his head back down to his normal, perfectly straight posture, and affixes you with a look that looks equal parts incredulous and 'are you being serious?'

You suck on your bottom lip as you sheepishly smile. He sighs. You're both fairly reserved individuals, but it seems that, as a pair, you both tend to annoy and pick at each other more than either of you would usually deem acceptable.

“I doubt the wisdom of my ancestors is equipped to save me in this situation.”

“That so?”

“Quite.”

He looks firm as he says it, and internally you wince slightly. His expression seems to soften almost immediately after that.

“Why can't you be more careful?

“I am.”

“Trying to control the flow of an opposing army on your lonesome is reckless. Be less reckless.”

The air seems to still.

“Please.”

After a moment, you sigh. In your friendship with him, it seems you're both equally matched in your concern for one another.

High Elder or not, Dan Feng loves his friends. You can see it both in your own friendship with him and his friendships within the High Cloud Quintet. His concern is veiled just enough so that once you've learned to see it, you’ll never doubt that it's there. Ever the healer.

You wonder if he's scared of it all being stripped away, sometimes. He probably knows better than anyone that the preceptors are more than willing to criticize the High Elder, secretively but never quite quietly enough, for his ‘mortal frailties’.

“I will try.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I will be careful.”

It seems to appease him for the moment, and he sighs. Some of the tension fades from his posture as he closes his eyes and hangs his head.

“Very well. Thank you.”

“Ever honoured to be of service to the esteemed High Elder.” Dan Feng groans, still with his eyes closed, and you snicker quietly.

“My knight in shining armour.”

“Stop it.”

“Alas-” you clutch at your heart through your undershirt, and fall backwards onto the cot. Dan Feng moves forward quickly, and leans forward to check that you haven't actually succumbed to an injury he might have overlooked. He wouldn't, he's far too skilled for that, but he checks anyway. You almost feel bad for pulling that.

“My beloved friend has forsaken me.” You make eye contact with him as you smirk widely, and he sighs in both relief and probably what is mild irritation and an urge to just walk straight out of the tent.

“Here we go again.”

“Abandoned, forsaken, am I.”

“I would not forsake you-”

“Forsaken.”

Dan Feng hangs his head and rubs his face.

“Why are you so reckless, anyways? On the battlefield.”

You pause to think about it. Or more accurately, to think of a way to tease him a little further.

“To catch my beloved friend’s eye, of course.”

His hands seem to clench slightly from their position over his face. He hangs his head further and his hair tumbles forward to cover the tips of his ears.

“What? What does that even mean?”

“From his lofty position above the battlefield, my friend surely has trouble discerning me from the crowd of other, similarly sweaty and shapeless ants, on the battlefield.”

“You are not ants. Not to me.”

“For only he, the majestic warrior from on high-” you see Dan Feng stifle a chortle at that, “remains clean, with his hair billowing in the wind.”

He groans and drops his hands. He’s smiling and flushed slightly, but looks like he's exerting an effort into maintaining his composure.

You lift your arm dramatically into the air. Dan Feng sighs.

“If he catches sight of another, more sightly man, from his vantage point, what am I to do? Admit defeat to being overseen, overshadowed? Left behind?"

“You don't have to worry about that.”

“Why not?” You pause your monologuing to meet his gaze, now warm and full of mirth. It makes you smile.

“It's much easier to discern my friends, in the crowd. I try not to loose sight of you.”

You pause a little at that. Then you turn your face away and press the back of your hand to your forehead. You hear Dan Feng groan again and mutter quietly, and have to stifle your laughter.

“And alas, my friend-”

“Stop it,” he begins to laugh quietly, stifled under what you're sure is a hand clapped to his mouth.

“He has forsaken us! Forsaken us for greater, brighter things.”

“Where are you even,” he lets out a bright laugh before coughing, “where are you going with this?”

“My dear friend does not wish to hear of me.”

“You know very well the opposite is true.”

“And is annoyed that I wish to catch his eye in battle,” you turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. He flushes slightly and looks away.

“There are other ways to catch my attention, other than recklessly charging ahead into battle, you know.” Dan Feng smiles as he looks back at you. His eyes sparkle as he tries to sound stern, only for it to dissolve as he chuckles into the palm of his hand.

“But this, my friend, is most certainly efficient. Otherwise, what if my friend sees the new love of his life and abandons me for him? The pain, the horror, the-”

Dan Feng laughter fills the air as your sentence trails off. It's bright, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he laughs openly, one hand placed elegantly over his mouth, and the other grasping the sheets on the bed.

You laugh with him, calming down seconds before he finally does, with a sigh.

He looks marvelous like this, you think. Bright-eyed and deliriously laughing with you in a shabby medical tent.

He makes eye contact with you and flushes slightly, for a brief second. You smile at him, and he returns it with a soft expression of his own. Dan Feng, your dearest friend.

“Please though, if you ever do that again I'm dropping down from the sky to chastise you.”

You cackle as he begins to laugh once again.

[readychilledwine]

Hey. It's me again. I was wondering if you could write something. Where reader is taking care of her younger siblings because her father who was a single dad had died due to some illness which she has now and it is going to kill her. The ic notices last minute. Az is just pissed because she is his wife and she made up a lie to break his heart. You can decided if there is a cure they found or not. Thanku. Hope you are doing well

I'm convinced you want me to break Azriel's (and my) heart, and I almost did it this time 👀👀👀👀

Losing Forever

Warnings - illness, mentions of death, heartbreak, losing a family member, angst with a happier ending than originally planned, mentions of medical procedures and blood. Ps- there's a little hint of Azris in there if you squint. 👀

A/n - I changed the ending of this two or three times, and I'm not 100% happy, but that's my inner perfectionist. I seriously considered something less happy, but I think I mentally care about Azriel having a happy ending way too much.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Madja stared at you in silence. "Where and how?" The healer finally said before pulling any books she could. "Y/n, where and how?"

She had confirmed your fear as you began to pick at the loose skin on your nails. "My father had written for me," you went into the story, the old healer looking at you every so often as she flipped through page after page.

The conclusion was the same. Illryian Fever. You had heard of it wiping whole camps clean. Incurable, deadly, and incredibly painful for the affected. "You cannot go home. You could pass this to Nyx, Rhys, Azriel, or Cassian if they get too close to you." You nodded. "I will keep looking, y/n, but I have to go tell the High Lord which camp it was spreading through and that you have it."

Your trip home had taken much longer than you and Azriel had believed it would. He crossed his arms over his chest as Madja sat across from Rhys. The healer's face was pale. Her hands shaking with nerves. "Not that I am unhappy to see you, old friend, but why are you here?" Rhys leaned back a brow raised.

They heard her throat clear before a pregnant pause came. "Illyrian fever struck the Snowfall Camp. At least 50 are dead, countless are infected." Azriel's heart froze, and Cassian looked at him.

Rhys swallowed thickly. "Why do you have this information before I do?" He prayed to the Mother that the answer they all knew was coming wouldn't be said. "Surely, if it was spreading, I would know by now."

Madja rose a brow at Rhysand before taking his hand in hers. "You know the answer to that question, High Lord. She's in the Halls of Healing. I will not allow her to come out here. I will not allow visitors until a shield is in place." Rhys closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "I need anything you can get me regarding similar strands of illnesses if there will be a small chance of saving her."

Azriel felt Cassian grab him as his knees gave out. He felt his brother lowering him to the floor. He couldn't hear Rhys and Madja trying to talk to him. Every sound was muffled as if he was underwater, his heart rate was skyrocketing, his eyes wide with panic. The sound of his heartbeat increasing became a pounding drum. The noise was all he could focus on until your soft voice came into his mind.

Just a week, my love. Father said Luka, and he had simple colds. I will be right back to you. He rewatched the moment now, replaying the subtle things in your body language. The distant look in your eyes, the way you kissed him harder than you had for any other previous goodbye.

You knew, he realized, you knew, and you lied.

After countless hours spent hunched over books and chasing away sleep, Rhys had found a way for them to all see you. He kept a shield between you all, clutching Nyx tightly to him as he tried to reach you and cried for his favorite aunt.

It had been a week with no news regarding a cure, and your body was clearly tired of fighting. You had stopped eating 2 days ago, spending hours now in the throes of sleepless dreams and fevered nightmares. He had brought the heir to say goodbye, knowing from Madja's predictions, the progression, and years of experience you had until morning unless a miracle came.

Feyre was in the room with you. Holding your hand as she sobbed heavily into the bed. She could not pass the disease unless she made the choice to shift, and the wall Rhys was offering was too much for her. She needed to hold your hand to feel your soft palms one last time. But, it was too much for him as well. The sight of you like this was eating away at him. "Feyre, darling, please." She nodded, with one last kiss goodbye placed on your forehead.

Cassian and Nesta came next. Lady Death was held back by her husband, his hand resting on her swollen stomach. He took in your peaceful face, the countless medications being pumped into you to keep you comfortable. Ness unleashed a heartbreaking cry after they had spent almost an hour talking to you, hoping your mind wasn't lost enough that it could hear them still. Cassian took that as the cue, gently ushering his wife out of the room and into the large area Madja had set up for the Inner Circle to wait in.

It went on like that until they had all visited you. Elain and Lucien, then Mor, then Amren. Eris had even come, warming your room and sheets more as he watched you shiver. He walked back into the room, kissing Elain's temple to greet his sister in law before placing a supportive hand on Azriel's shoulder.

It was not every day someone felt the mating bond fading. Numbness had taken over the spymaster, along with anger, as he found letters confirming you knew what you were possibly walking into. But you had done it for your father. Your brother.

You had done it because they had no one else. Your mother was long gone, and your sisters married off to other camps. He did not rank high enough to garner attention from healers, your half brother was merely a child, and it would have been seen as survival of the fittest.

You had risked your life to ensure their last moments were comfortable, and now Azriel would pay that price.

"Azriel," Madja said softly, "if you want to say goodbye, you need to now." Eris and Lucien all but dragged the male to your room when he refused to move, shutting the door behind him and waiting in the hall.

Azriel felt ill as he took you in. This wasn't you. The sickly pale skin, the hallow cheeks, the lack of laughter and light. He felt a knot forming in his throat as he mindless stepped as close to you as he could before the shock of the barrier hit him.

He couldn't even hold your hand in your last moments. He sat in the chair slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice finally broke the heaviness of the room. "Why did you lie to me?" He felt tears damping his lashes before falling. "You are my mate, y/n. Why did you lie to me about this?"

He watched you, knowing he wouldn't get a response. "I'm fucking angry. I have to spent your last moments angry with you because of a choice you made. We could have sent healers, love," his voice cracked. "We could have sent anyone but you."

Azriel was openly weeping now. "You promised me forever, y/n. You promised me years of love, joy, and unconditional happiness." He knew you had not broken the latter of the 3. You had given Azriel countless memories. Countless moments of laughter, of warmth and love.

You had melted that icy part deep down in his soul that was slowly resolidifying as he accepted the loss and anger he felt. "You promised me forever, and you shit on it. You shit on me, on my feelings, our marriage, our bond." The coldness grew with each word. "Did you even actually love me, or was that a lie too?"

He knew deep down it wasn't and watched as your finger, the one with your wedding ring, twitched. Rhys entered the room calmly behind him. "She can fucking hear you, Azriel. She's awake," he chastised. "Do not let your last moments with her be moments of anger and self sabot-" Rhys froze, his eyes flicking to the doorway. Hope filled Rhysand's features. "Hold on, y/n. Just please keep fighting, sis."

Madja and Helion, followed by Thesan, ran into the room. Rhys pulled Azriel back and away, making room for the three of them to work. "Mother, fuck," Helion said softly as he took your hand. "This better work fast, Thesan."

The Lord of Dawn rolled his eyes. "I didn't exactly have countless illyrians lining up to test it, Helion. Especially not ones in this advanced of a condition." Azriel flinched as Thesan shoved something into the vein of your hand. A soft whimper of pain fell from your throat. "I know, lovely. I'm sorry. This might be very uncomfortable." He set a bag of clear glowing liquid on the rack. "Who's blood?"

"Mine," Helion immediately offered. "I don't want to risk you taking it home to your winged legion from potential blood contact."

Thesan's jaw twitched. "I don't know if you can handle another one, Hel."

"Use me." A calm cool voice said from the doorway. "I owe him a life debt. Use me." Thesan nodded, motioning for the owner of the voice to move closer.

Eris stepped forward and through the shield, taking the seat Helion had moved closer to you. The heir held your hand gently as Thesan tapped into his vein. "You might be here awhile, Eris." The heir nodded. "I also cannot promise you doing this will save her, but it's her best shot until Tarquin, Tamlin, or Kallias can get here. It works best with a high lord's blood."

Your breathing had evened out, and Azriel watched in silence as Thesan hooked one more needle to your opposite arm from Eris and into a different container. He back away along with Helion, watching as Eris's blood slowly began to travel the tubes and into you, and your own began to leave.

"There's a similar illness in the Peregryn and the Seraphim," Thesan began slowly. "Drakon and I figured this out many years ago. The contagion cannot survive high fae blood for some reason. We had figured Rhysand's father would have done the same, but it appears not considering the situation."

Rhys scoffed slightly. "You two give my father far too much credit on anything. Velaris is the best thing he created, with the exception of myself of course." The joke broke the tension. "How long until she's not contagious."

Helion motioned towards the bag. "The second that started pumping into her, she stopped. That is water from the fountain Amarantha tried to destroy under the mountain. It's sacred and all healing. We were hoping with how poorly she was doing it would prevent anything from progressing further."

Azriel felt the shield drop and ran to your open side. Taking a cold hand in his, feeling the weight of your ring. "This was successful in the camps. I apologize it took us so long to get here. Finding Illyrians willing to help us help them instead of accept death was-" Helion just shrugged, looking at Rhys. "You all are too stubborn for your own good. Eris, what do you want for food? You'll need it."

Rhys held his hand up. "I know where he likes to eat here. I will send you two food. I'm going to get everyone else out for a break, though. And to explain what's happening." He motioned for Thesan and Helion to come with him, squeezing Azriel's shoulder and shooting Eris one last look before shutting the door.

Silence fell between the two of them, both of their eyes locked on you. "If this saves her, you need to grovel and apologize immediately." Eris would not look at him. "I would have never said to my mate what you said to her on their deathbed."

Azriel nodded. "Why are you doing this?"

Eris finally looked up at him, before looking at you. "You came and saved me from that bitch of a queen and the deathless God, Azriel. She nursed me back to health and healed me after countless beating from my father. You are my friends, even if you do not acknowledge that. I care about you, Az." Eris paused, his eyes focused on the fire, starting it back up into a gentle blaze to heat the room again. "Besides, I quite enjoy your wife. She is wonderful. Even if you are a moody brute."

Azriel laughed lightly. Allowing silence to fall between the two of them again. His shadows appeared some time later with two books from thin air, taking one to Eris and dropping one in Azriel's lap. They then pushed side tables to the two males as Rhys sent them food.

Eris guffawed in awe as Azriel's shadows began to cut their steaks. "Is this your way of saying thank you, shadowsinger?" Azriel nodded. Opening his mouth while staring at Eris to allow his companions to feed him. "You're welcome, Azriel. She looks better already." And you did. Color had slightly returned to your face. Your lashes occasionally fluttered against your cheeks.

They welcomed in quiet again, finishing their meals and desserts before a soft knock came on the door almost an hour later. A shadow opened it, and Eris's face almost fell before he chuckled through his breath. "You are not the one I was expecting."

The scent of rain and fresh cut grass hit Azriel. Had this been a different circumstance, Azriel would have shielded you, protectrd you, but he knew there was only one way this male got in, and that sacrifice from Rhysand shocked him.

"My schedule clears easily these days." Tamlin placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder. "You look like shit, Azriel." The shadowsinger watched Thesan appear and began to unhook Eris.

The heir moved to the chair by Azriel, drinking the water a shadow had handed to him as the small puncture wound instantly healed. They watched as Thesan hooked Tamlin up to you. They watched as Tamlin's blood seemed to instantly make a huge difference. You had stopped shivering completely. Your body relaxed. You were even breathing deeper.

Thesan observed for a while. Watching as Rhys then sent Tamlin food, causing the two high lords to laugh. "Tarquin will be here by morning, and Kal will be here tomorrow afternoon. The Inner Circle is each going to take turns after you, with the exception of Rhysand. Feyre will sit in his place. Then Tarquin, Kal, then Helion and myself. I think it will take all of us since she was so advanced into the illness."

Tamlin nodded. "I apologize I was not here sooner."

Thesan shook his head. "Eris was more than enough to get her off the brink. Now, all you have to do is sit and stabilize her, and from there, we will heal her."

Thesan crossed his arms in front of his body, brows raised as he nodded to the plate in front of Tamlin. "I was informed not to leave until you ate a bite." Tamlin laughed as shadows copied their previous motions, cutting his steak like they had for Eris before holding a bite to his face.

Eris had fallen asleep, his head resting on Azriel's shoulder. Thesan grabbed a blanket, pulling it over the heir, and Azriel wrapped a wing around him on instinct as well.

"She's going to recover, Azriel," Thesan said. "Might want to start writing that apology letter. Rhys said her thoughts regarding you were not kind when she called for him. Something about stupid illyrian brutes and over egotistical bastards?"

Tamlin and Azriel laughed. Azriel didn't take his eyes off of you as you shakily raised a single finger to him. "So a fancy date, an apology letter, and a vacation. Noted, my love."

[bedoballoons]

can We get a very physically hurt/half dying reader x the healers? And by bbg’s wanderer and albedo? Like when we get so hurt that we almost die?🩸💀☠️🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀

Absolutely!! I'm not particularly sure which healers you meant though so I hope this is okay and I know Tighnari technically isn't a healer but he's a canon doctor so I figured he could also be in this! If there's characters you wanted to see that weren't in this don't be afraid to ask for them! Also so sorry this took so long!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Readers injured~༺}

CW: Some gore because of injury description, it's my first time writing Kokomi so I'm sorry if it's not the best!, angst and fluff <3

(Includes: Albedo, Baizhu, Tighnari, Wanderer, and Kokomi!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Albedo:

"Just stay awake."

Albedos words rang in your ears as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, carrying you through the thick white snow to the nearest heat source in hopes of saving you. Your body was already limp against him because of the cold and it made his heart pound in his chest, he was scared...terrified and right now the only thing keeping you alive, your life was in his hands...and he knew it.

He kept telling you it was going to be alright, promising you nothing bad would happen, but it didn't matter...after all you could barely hear him over the loud screams of the wind, each one smacking you both with whips of freezing cold air, some of them harsh enough to make him stumble backwards. You were starting to loose hope, tears staining your cheeks and stinging as they froze against your skin, were you really going to be alright?

Suddenly Albedo fell forward onto his knees, setting you on the ground and pushing you into what appeared to be a cave, just big enough for the both of you. He didn't waste a moment, crawling in after you once he had removed his coat and covering you with it like it was a blanket, his hands busying themself with the start of a fire. The second the flames appeared he pulled you into his lap, forcing you to heat up...and doing everything in his power to save you, the love of his life.

𑁍༄Baizhu:

"I'm with you now, don't worry dearest...it's all going to be alright."

Baizhu held your hand tightly, his fingers intertwined with yours while Changsheng used her gifts to perform the ritual...draining his life force right from his body...so you could live to see the next day. If you had been able to stop him...to keep him from shortening his life to lengthen yours, you would have...but you were so weak from your injuries...you could barely keep your eyes open. If he didn't do this...you would have died.

"Changsheng..." He simply said the serpents name, but even in your dazed state you could tell he wanted details...he wanted confirmation you'd be okay and he wouldn't rest till he knew, even as he was rattled with coughs...he had to know if you were going to make it. "Baizhu...they will be alright, your life force wasssss enough. Rest with them now...you both need it."

Baizhu nodded, crawling carefully into the bed with you so you could rest together...his ears tuned in to your breathing, listening for any signs of trouble and kissing your head while you drifted off to sleep.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

"Don't die on me now...you're far to important for me to loose."

You could taste blood on your lips, metallic and coppery...dripping down your chin in bright red streaks, all the while you clutched your stomach, hunched over in the most excruciating pain you'd ever felt in your entire life. Your body was riddled with bruises and cuts, your insides screaming at you for medical attention as you frantically scanned the area around you for the one person that you knew could save you, "Tighnari! H-help!"

Suddenly big blue ears twitched in your direction, his movements quick and calculated as he hurried to you, taking down anything that got in his way while you fell to your knees. He could tell this was serious and he didn't wast a single second, as soon as he was close enough you were getting bandaged, his senses on high alert just in case a enemy got to close. "You know when I said, give them a beating, I didn't mean to include yourself."

You couldn't stop yourself from chuckling, which hurt...but his sarcasm...it also made you feel better

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"You'll be okay, you have to...y-you can't leave me."

Wanderer couldn't even think correctly, his arms holding you so carefully...like your body was made of the most fragile of material in the world...all the while your crimson red blood dripped down his clothes. His emotions going hay wire and leaving him on a roller coaster, fear like he'd never felt before, anger burning in him like a raging fire and most of all..the lack of understanding.

If someone had went after him...that he would have understood...he would have defended himself, he would have fought against them and he most likely would have won, but who...who the hell would attack you.. and why? Why couldn't he have been there to keep you safe? "Please...I...I love you and I know I don't say it enough because of my stupid pride but I love you and you're not allowed to die on me because some stupid jerk attack you." He hugged you tighter as he spoke before bursting through the doors of Tighnaris house and quickly laying you down on the bed, his hand intertwined with yours even when everyone told him to leave.

He wouldn't let you wake up alone...no matter what he'd be there.

𑁍༄Kokomi:

"Just...breath."

Kokomis hands rested softly on your chest...a faint blue light seeping from the cracks of her fingers while she used her vision to heal your wounds and you tried desperately to keep breathing like she'd instructed you to...,but despite her incredible powers, you were in so much pain...each breath threatened to be your last one.

"It's going to be okay...I'll have you patched up in no time, just concentrate on me...I'll save you, I promise." She leaned in close, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, her sweet calming aura making you feel warm as you struggled to keep your eyes open. That warmth spread all across your body, as if she had hugged you with all the love she could give and just when you'd thought you were going to take your last breath, that love made all the pain fade away.

Your injuries healing till they were nothing more than scratches and your fear replaced with happiness...gratitude. The two of you shared a sweet kiss before she had to hurry away to help someone else.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[marthawrites]

Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister. 

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

-

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived. 

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner. 

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up. 

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length. 

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight. 

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed. 

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching. 

He had to be inside you. Now. 

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward. 

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use. 

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy. 

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

To be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @bloodwyrmcaraxes @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @babyaemond @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73

[avocado-writing]

Hey! I just discovered your blog and I'm having massive bg3 brain rot rn. I just went through a hellish amount of back pain (to the point where I was on the verge of passing out) and I was wondering if you could write a few headcannos about how the bg3 companions would comfort the reader. I was thinking maybe Astarion and a few of your favs? Anyway, I love your work and gave a great day!!

aww no I hope your back is better my love! Here are some hcs about some companions helping/comforting you when you’re in pain:

Astarion

Wakes you up early and encourages you to do some gentle stretches to help with the pain

I do mean early. He basically does yoga with you and does NOT relish the idea of the camp catching him doing downwards facing dog, he’d die from embarrassment (though he will stomach doing it during the day if you really want to. But complain the whole time)

Does research into what teas and tinctures can be made and bought to help ease your discomfort.

Gives you massages, but they’re very sensual. You both know he’s not really trying to help in that regard… However his massages do lead to a way to take your mind off things…

Karlach

her 👏 warm 👏 hands 👏 are 👏 a 👏 heat pack 👏 Both before and after her infernal engine is fixed.

Before, she wraps her hands up as tight as she can to shield you from her head and presses them against wherever is causing you discomfort

After, she uses her hands properly, holding them against your skin so the heat can soothe you.

Offers to carry your things so that the day-to-day is easier.

Wyll

He does do proper massages, and unlike astarion he has no ulterior motive.

Insists you see a doctor or a healer as soon as you can and pays your medical bill if needed.

Is good at reading your face. If you’re doing something and your pain is causing you problems, he’ll offer to jump in and take over or at least help you.

Doesn’t bombard you with questions about how you’re feeling but knows the signs to look out for, because he knows you 💕

Lae’zel

10000% cracks your joints like a chiropractor, likely some githyanki remedy.

You do not know if she is trained to do this. Probably not. It feels so good though.

She is the source of your bruises but healer of your pain.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget (lmk if you want to be added)

[banj0possum]

"Whoever you met in your past world, just make sure that I always have a place in your heart, my rose."

so um, hiii!!! been reading your works for a long time and when you wrote alistair, i just had to do it.

this is just a self indulgent mess (oc is a tired, modern doctor that got transported to alistair's world and became his personal healer and something much more hehe)

anyways your writing and drawings are so so so so amazing!!! keep it up!!! 💖💖💖

WAIT WAIT GUYS WAIT!! OOP WAIT!!

YKW YKW

IM MAKING AN ENTIRE POST FOR YOU DAWG WAIT-

Yandere! Evil King x GN! Doctor! Reader

this is a little short im sorry-

👑 Alistair took you in as his one of his medics not long after your transportation into this strange fantasy world.

👑 He didn't expect much from you at first considering you wielded no magic of any sort, but you proved him wrong quick.

👑 He was amazed by your smarts and almost fearless nature when faced with difficult medical cases, of course to you it would just be another Monday afternoon at the hospital you used to work in

👑 Soon enough he would move you from being a medic for his army to his own personal medic.

👑 He'd buy you all sorts of medical books he thought you'd enjoy, not because he liked you, it was just to make sure you had adequate knowledge to attend to him if ever he is hurt yk.

👑 If you ever try to talk to him, he'd huff at your attempt, but he'd tolerate a conversation with you..wait where are you going he isn't done talking to you-

👑 Sometimes he'd just sit in your infirmary and watch you work. Just to make sure you're doing your job and not slacking off!..totally not just watching you lovingly or something that would be crazy!

👑 He'd pretend to hurt himself or be mildly sick in order to get your attention. Even a small scratch from a spar would bring him to your infirmary.

👑 Of course he's withstood much worse than a minor bruise or cut, but as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he'd do anything for your attention. Anything.

👑 A-and you know, he's gotta be at top shape all the time! In case he needs to go out into the battlefield once more. We can't have him held back by a cut right? Even the smallest wound can change the outcome of a battle!..

👑 He gets a little fuzzy feeling when you care for him. It makes him feel so vulnerable..safe..loved even.

👑 But don't be fooled! He's still the strong, cold, dominant king you know!..he just can't help melting every time you touch him to examine him or treat his wounds..

[circus4apsycho8]

Hi, I hope you are doing well!! I was wondering if you could write a ninjago Cole x reader where the reader is the teams medic. Cole, being the muscle of the team, usually gets hurt a lot and the medic has to patch him a lot on and off the field. They grow closer and close and eventually become an established relationship. Angst, smut, fluff, whatever, full creative freedom! Love your writing!!

Hey, thank you very much! Love this request! I will be making this a 2-3 part series. One of the next chapters will feature a second related request, I believe. Originally I was going to publish it all at once, but then I decided to break it up a little bit. Also, not sure how accurate the wounds and whatnot are, but I tried :v Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: stab wounds, cussing, mild gore descriptions

Word Count: 11.9k

knife to meet you. | cole x reader | chapter i

The clock is going to drive you insane. 

Tick after tick, the hands click on, your sanity diminishing with each passing second. For the millionth time tonight, you rip your gaze from the dragging hands of the clock. Not even three minutes had passed since you’d last checked the time. A frustrated sigh tumbles from your lips, eyes venturing down to stare at the tea supplies scattered about the table before you.   

“Stop looking at it,” you grumble to yourself, returning your hands to your task - bagging tea leaves and ingredients to assemble Mystake’s latest recipe. Her new tea is set to launch tomorrow, and she could be a stickler for keeping fully stocked shelves. The thought makes you sigh, knowing you’ll certainly be busy in the morning. Perhaps the promotion would make the day go by faster. 

The repetitive motions of your hands eventually allow your mind to shift into autopilot mode, hands running on muscle memory as you wonder how much longer you would be here for - you’d come a long way since training as her apprentice, and by helping her with the shop, she allowed you to live with her rent free.

And while you’re forever grateful for Mystake’s kindness, you know this isn’t what destiny has planned for you. Running a tea shop was her dream, not yours. Deep within your heart, you feel yourself growing antsy. You wouldn’t thrive here, and a part of you wonders if you’ll end up stuck here. 

The bell above the door chimes, snapping your body out of autopilot and into customer service mode. The smile plastered on your face masks the annoyance at having to serve someone so late. Who even thinks to buy tea this late at night? 

You hop off of the stool. “Good evening! How can I-”   

The sight before you jerks your body out of autopilot, a horrified expression overcoming you as your eyes process the scene in front of you:   

Three men dressed in gis stand before you, two of them supporting a man in a black gi - his head is drooped, and he’s limp. His arms are strung around the necks and shoulders of two men on either side - one dressed in red and the other blue.   

“Please,” grunts the one in blue. “We need help!”   

“He’s been stabbed, and we didn’t know where else to go,” adds the red one, both looking at you with desperate faces. “You can treat wounds, right?”   

For a moment, you freeze. Mystake isn’t here, and she always takes care of these things. You’ve only ever observed or helped with guidance. She certainly wouldn’t make it back in time to help.   

What would she say right now?   

...She’d tell me not to freeze. Just work and do what you were trained to do. Make a decision. 

You snap out of your stupor, realizing that you’re on your own. This man needs help now, and you know you’ll never become a healer if you don’t start doing things on your own.   

So, you force yourself to swallow your fear. “Okay. Take him in the back; take a right, then enter the second doorway on the left. I’ll be right there.” 

The two oblige without question, immediately making their way to the back of the store. After making your way to the front, you lock the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’. Next, you jog behind the counter, swiping the emergency medical kit you always had stocked. On your way to the room, you swipe a certain tea you know you’ll need later.   

With almost everything you need in hand, you hurry through the maze of tea shelves and doors until you arrive in the medical room.   

The two men have lowered their friend on top of the bed, with the red one pressing down on his abdomen. Blood cakes the lower parts of his arms, eyes wide with fear as he holds the pressure.   

“The blood…it’s not stopping,” the brunet drawls, tensing as he stares at the wound.   

“Here, let me,” you state, immediately coming to take over. He relents, stepping off to the side. “I need you guys to grab me a few towels. They’re in the cabinet to the right.”   

They nod, rushing to gather what you need. You’re quick to start applying pressure to the wound, face twisting in determination as you hold the fabric in place. The stabbed man grunts, hissing as he tosses his head back in pain. Normally a reaction like this would scare you, but you’re too hopped up on adrenaline to care at the moment.   

“I’m sorry. I know this hurts like hell, but I have to get the bleeding to stop,” you sympathize, eyes still trained on his wound. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the blue one frozen at the side. Looks like he could use something else to focus on. “Hey, blue guy. Can you start steeping that tea bag over there? I know it’s an odd request at such a time, but just trust me.”   

“Tea bag? Y-Yeah, I’m on it.” Thankfully, this snaps him out his stupor and gets his hands busy.   

You note that the red one looks antsy too. A glance at the injured man’s tattered top gives you an idea for another task.   

“And could you get his top off, please? I need to make sure he wasn’t hit anywhere else this badly.”   

“Yeah. Yeah…okay. I can do that,” he replies, eyes lingering over the blood momentarily before he snaps himself out of his stupor. His hands fumble to his belt, where he slips out a small, silver shuriken.   

You shuffle out of his way as best you can without hindering your progress on the wound, watching as the shuriken slices through the fabric. Mr. Red Guy gently pulls the sides off and out of your way, allowing it to drape over the sides of the table.   

After thanking him, you quickly scan the rest of the stabbed man’s torso. There are a few bruises and cuts, but the stab wound seems to be the brunt of the damage.   

From there, the room falls quiet save for his pained grunts.   

“Fuck,” he curses, voice taut. “How...how’s it looking?”   

“You’re gonna pull through, man,” replies the red one, his voice coming out stronger than he looks. “She’s got the blood loss slowing down.”   

The blue one, on the other hand, doesn’t sound as put together. His voice is shaky and his eyes are glassy, but you can tell he’s trying to sound optimistic. “Yeah, Cole, you’re going to be just fine.”   

“How’s the tea looking?” you inquire, trying to distract him from whatever’s making him upset. You need everyone to remain calm until the bleeding has stopped.   

“I think it’s ready. Do you need it?”   

“Yes, please,” you reply. “Have him drink as much as he can, even if it’s only a few sips. It should ease the pain a little bit and help prevent infection.”   

The redhead nods, going to prop his friend’s head up while the other holds the teacup for him. You listen as they speak softly to him, words too quiet for you to hear.   

It takes you a minute, but thankfully you’re able to get the bleeding to stop. Soon enough, the wound is sterilized and bandaged properly with the man now unconscious on the table.   

You find yourself absentmindedly cleaning the last bits of blood off of his torso, realizing that the three of you are all quietly processing the night together.   

“Are you two okay?” you speak suddenly, shifting your gaze to them. “You’re not wounded, are you?”   

“No, we’re okay. Just a little cut up and bruised, but nothing we can’t handle,” the spiky-haired brunet assures. “Thank you. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t helped us.”   

“It’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help him,” you dismiss, smiling softly as you return your gaze to the task at hand. “Oh, and by the way…” You take a moment to introduce yourself. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice.”   

“Only an apprentice?” the redhead wonders.   

“I thought you were a master medic, what with the way you handled that. But yeah, I’m Kai, that’s Jay, and he’s Cole.”   

You nod in acknowledgement, attempting to commit their names to memory. “Thank you. Well, I wish it was under better circumstances, but nonetheless it’s nice to meet you all.”   

“Likewise,” Kai replies.   

You debate your next question momentarily, but decide to just ask anyway. “And do you mind if I ask what happened? Stabbings are rare around here.”   

“Well, I’d say you’ve more than earned an explanation for us barging in here with a dying man in the middle of the night, then handling it like a pro,” Jay interjects. “We were on a mission to investigate an incident of serial burglaries that had been occurring around a town close to this one.”  

“Long story short, we find the guys, confront them, then things start to get heated,” Kai continues, staring off into the distance. “So, we start fighting, trying to apprehend and whatnot. Cole doesn’t draw his weapon yet because he’s pretty well-versed with hand-to-hand combat.”   

“It was my fault,” Jay interrupts, eyes turning glassy again as he averts his gaze. “One of them tripped me up, and I caught sight of the knife they had. And I…I just froze. I don’t know why. But he pushed me out of the way just in time, and he took the hit in my place.”   

“It’s not your fault, Jay,” Kai assures. “This was a rough job for us all. And it doesn’t help that Zane wasn’t here to help.”   

“The important thing is that you’re all alive and healing,” you say, dumping another bloodied towel into a nearby bin. “And he’s going to be just fine.” 

“I still can’t help but feel bad,” mumbles the redhead, your heart dropping slightly at the sight of his guilt-laced stare. “He shouldn’t have to look out for us when he already takes the brunt of the damage.”   

Their words pique your interest, causing you to glance up with a puzzled expression. “So you guys do this a lot, then? Are you vigilantes or something?”   

“We’re ninja,” Kai responds, gesturing to the symbols on both of their gis. “We recently finished our training with our master, and have been fighting to make Ninjago a safer place ever since.”   

“Oh, I see!” you reply. That certainly explains the strange outfits and weapons. The conversation reminds you of a rumor you had heard from a few customers one day a few weeks ago. “You know, now that we’re talking about it, I had heard rumors about ninjas surfacing somewhere and taking out bad guys. I just didn’t think much of it considering nothing major has happened in our town since.”   

Kai grins slightly at this, eyeing Jay with a small smirk. “Hey, sounds like we’re starting to make waves.”   

“Waves? I think you’re giving us too much credit,” Jay notes, stifling a yawn.   

“But it’s a start,” Kai adds, also yawning. The action makes you realize how late it is, knowing the two must be exhausted from the night’s events.   

“Alright. It’s late, and he’s about as cleaned up as I can get him right now,” you comment. “If you two will just help me move him onto a stretcher, I can get him hooked up to an IV and then he’ll be set for the night. Mystake will want him to stay so we can monitor his vitals and ensure that the wound doesn’t become infected. You both are welcome to stay here while he’s recovering; we’ve got a spare room and extra clothes for times like these. Please, follow me.”   

…   

With Kai and Jay now settled in for the night, you find yourself preparing the IV for Cole in the recovery ward of the shop.   

As your fingers work, you find your gaze drifting to the man before you. Now that he’s stable and your adrenaline rush has passed, you have time to observe him.   

His gi had been black - that much you remember. Your eyes drift across his bare torso, noting that he has a few scars across his chest. His stature is muscular - seemingly more so than the other two.   

You tear your gaze from him, double checking that everything is ready before taking his arm in your hands, flipping it over to find the right vein. Once you do, you insert the IV. 

The action makes him stir, eyes opening slightly. Immediately, he tries to sit up, but your muscle memory kicks in just in time to push him back down.   

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” you say, holding him down gently. “You’re okay, but you need to rest.”   

Thankfully, he settles, eyes relaxing slightly at your touch. Jaded green eyes study your figure as you gaze at him, watching to see if he’s going to try and get up again.   

“Where am I?” he wonders, voice hoarse. “I barely remember what happened. Everything’s patchy for me...I remember that room, Kai and Jay were there...then I couldn’t stay awake anymore.”   

“You’re at Mystake’s tea shop. This is our recovery ward. You were stabbed in a fight, and your friends brought you here. You’re all patched up now, but you need to rest so you can heal properly. Your friends are just in the other room.”   

“Stabbed? Oh…it’s coming back to me now.” He groans, shutting his eyes and letting his head drop onto the pillow again. “Are they okay?”   

“They’re fine, just sleeping now,” you assure.  

It’s then you realize that you still have a hand on his chest. Your cheeks heat up as you snatch your hand away. “Oh stars, I’m sorry! It’s just been, well…a long night. I guess I’m just a bit distracted now that the action has passed.”  

Cole chuckles, averting his gaze. He winces a bit, making his smile fade slightly. “You’re okay. I hadn’t even noticed.”  

“Your name is Cole, right?”   

“Yeah,” he mumbles.   

You tell him your name, words stumbling out in a mix of your default introductory statement and the mush that is your mind at the moment. “I’m Mystake’s apprentice. It’s knife to meet you.”   

Upon processing the phrase you’d added through your post-adrenaline exhaustion, your eyes widen. “Oh my god. I’m sorry, I-I did not mean to say that out loud! That was so inappropriate of me-”   

“Wow,” Cole responds, shaking his head at you with a small grin. “You can’t just cut down the stab victim like that, doc.”   

“I’m sorry!” you squeak before realizing that he, too, made a pun concerning his injury. “Wait...you’re not upset?”   

“Of course not. You saved my life,” he replies, glancing back down at his wound. “And I appreciate your humor. I know the guys have been pretty down about the whole ordeal, so it’s nice to know that you can at least make light of it.”   

“Oh,” you reply, not expecting that response at all. “Well...I’m glad that you’re okay with it. I see so much gore these days that I...” you trail off, realizing you shouldn’t be spilling your innermost thoughts to a patient.    

You shake your head, nervously chuckling as you take a step back. “I’m rambling, sorry. Are you hurting right now? I can get you a bit more of our pain-killing tea. It might help you sleep, too.”   

“That sounds great,” he replies. “Thank you.”   

You nod, standing up. “I’ll be right back, then.”   

With that, you make your way towards the kitchen. You get another cup of tea steeping, taking the down time to drink a bit of water and get a snack.   

A few seconds after you finish, you hear the door to the tea shop opening. You peek your head out from the back, relief coursing through you when you see Mystake behind the counter.   

“Thank the stars, you’re back!” you say, sighing as she turns to you.   

“I am. You closed the shop early?” she inquires, hanging her hat up on its usual spot.   

“Yes. Two people brought in a man who had been stabbed, and I had to treat it and I-” you trail off, the stress of the situation finally catching up to you as tears pool in your eyes.   

Mystake sets her hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down. “A stabbing? Oh dearie…I know it’s scary, but you did the right thing. He’s stabilized now, yes?”   

You nod as she takes your hands in hers, sniffling a bit. “Yeah. I was going to give him some of that pain-killing tea so he could sleep.”   

“Very good, very good. Here, finish what you’re doing while I have a look.”   

Your stomach twists, hands coming to fidget as you nod in response. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”   

With that, you’re left alone once more. Anxiety meshes with your post-adrenaline rush, leaving you lightheaded and nauseous. You can’t help but zone out for a bit, only jerked away from your thoughts when the water starts squealing.   

The tea doesn’t take you long to prepare, and soon enough, you find yourself approaching the recovery ward once more.   

The lights have been dimmed, causing you to wonder if he’s suffering a headache. You can still see well enough to notice that he’s still awake, though. Mystake is nowhere to be seen, meaning she must have finished her exam.   

“Here, this should help,” you say, setting the tray on the table next to the bed. “It should be cooled enough to drink. Try to drink as much as you can.”   

You hand him the cup, keeping an eye on his hands to make sure he doesn’t spill it.   

“Thanks,” he mumbles, hands seemingly steady enough for the time being. He takes a sip, face melting at the relief it must be bringing. “God, this stuff is magic. How does it kick in so fast?”   

You shrug, smiling softly as he takes another sip. “I’m not sure. Mystake’s teas are incredible. She’s a master at her craft, that’s for sure.” 

“Makes me wonder what else she can do with her teas,” he mumbles. 

“You’d be surprised. She’s like a tea witch,” you reply with a chuckle. “Do you need anything else? Extra blankets, another pillow, snacks, water...?” 

“I think I’m good for now,” he mumbles, sighing in relief. “This is already working wonders.” 

“Okay. If you need anything at all, just push the button on the side of the nightstand. We’ll try to check on you shortly after sunrise. Try to get some sleep for now.” 

“Being unconscious sounds great about now,” he mumbles. “Thank you.” 

You nod in response, smiling softly as you take the tray back into your hands, leaving the mug for him. 

Just before you exit the recovery ward, though, his voice sounds once more: 

"For the record, it was knife to meet you too.” 

...   

Mystake lets you sleep through the new tea launch, much to your relief. You don’t think you would have had nearly enough energy to deal with the rush today – not after all of last night’s excitement.   

Once you rise, you stumble through your morning routine. Yawns rake your body as you attempt to wake up, brain foggy as you emerge from your room.   

You can already hear customers chattering in the front, causing you to redirect to the kitchen. Through streams of unfamiliar voices, you can faintly hear Mystake’s voice vividly describing her newest creation. Looks like she’s doing just fine by herself so far. Which is great, considering you need a hot drink before you can even think about the public.   

Upon arriving to your destination, muscle memory kicks in and you start working on your drink without thinking much about what you’re doing. Your hands work in quiet tandem, voice humming a tune while you listen to the distant voices of consumers and employees alike.   

Once you’ve finished, you lean against the counter and take a sip.   

Soft footsteps catch your attention, eyes drifting towards the entrance. Moments later, two groggy and disheveled ninja catch your attention.   

“Morning,” greets Kai, hair frizzy and wild. Jay is in no better shape, eyes lined with circles as he offers a tired nod.   

“Morning, guys,” you reply, setting your drink to the side. “Doing okay?”   

“Yeah,” Kai responds. You gesture for the two to have a seat, and they do. “Thanks. Is it okay if our Sensei drops by with our other teammate today?”   

“Of course,” you assure. “What time will they be here?”   

“Probably about an hour or so,” Kai answers.   

Jay raises a notched eyebrow at this. “An hour? That’s...unusually quick for him, don’t you think?”   

The brunet nods in agreement. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. Although he did say something about a smoke vision and needing to see something for himself.” Kai shrugs, running his fingers through his hair. “You know how he is. Cryptic and old.”   

“A smoke vision?” Jay wonders. “Every time he has one of those, something big happens. What could it be this time?”   

“I don’t know. He didn’t say much about it, just that he needed to come see something in person. Who knows?”   

“I just don’t get why a near-death experience would be something that triggers a vision,” Jay mumbles. “Oh well. His wisdom works in mysterious ways, I guess. It hasn’t failed us yet.”   

Kai shrugs, not seeming too concerned about the ordeal. “Whatever it is, it’ll work out. Anyways, I’m starving. How about we make a breakfast run, huh? Let’s make it a race so we can get some blood pumping on our way there!”   

You raise an eyebrow, chuckling nervously as the two start thrumming with an energy that wasn’t present last night. Maybe resting and seeing their patched-up teammate has brought it back? Then again, you don’t really know what’s normal for these guys either.   

“You’re on!” Jay stands, a playful determination glinting in his eyes as he turns towards you. “Hey, what’s good around here?”   

“There’s a small diner around the block that’s always good,” you note. “But you guys don’t have to-”   

Jay makes an ‘ah-ah’ noise, shaking his head. “Nope. You saved our brother’s life, and for that you’re at least getting free breakfast.”   

“And more upon request,” Kai adds with a flirty smirk and wink combo. You roll your eyes as he dodges a hit from Jay.  

“Kai, you can’t just flirt with the doctor!” Jay admonishes, the two already zipping out of the kitchen. You try to follow them, but they’re flying out the door while yelling at each other.  

All while going the wrong direction.  

You sigh, chuckling to yourself as you shake your head. Oh well; they’ll figure it out. It certainly seems like they’ve got more than enough energy to spare today.  

“What in the world are they so riled up about this morning?” Mystake wonders, staring at the entrance. It seems as if the initial customer rush is over for the morning, but there are still a few milling about and browsing.  

“Breakfast, apparently,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m going to go check on Cole. I’ll be right back out to help.”  

“Actually, I’ll need you for something else today. Pack your bags, dearie – I’ve got a job for you that requires traveling.”  

“Traveling?” you wonder, turning towards your mentor. She merely flashes you an innocent smile – even though you’re sure it’s anything but.  

“Yes. You’ve proven to me that you’re ready to start taking jobs on your own. So, we’re going to start trying them out if you’re okay with it.”  

“Do you…do you really think I’m ready?” you wonder. “I know I was able to handle last night, but…”  

“I do not think it is the disease, nor the injuries that scare you. It is the threat of change. You’ve been cooped up in my store too long, and now it’s time for you to work on your own more often.”  

Her words strike you speechless momentarily. A change was what you’d wanted, right? More independence? More time to work on your own? But…this isn’t just any old job. It’s healing, and people’s lives are on the line. People’s lives are in your hands. Is that a responsibility you’re truly ready to take on?  

A part of you wants to say no – to stay within the comfort of your routine, despite its repetitiveness. That way, you would always have help when you needed it. That way, you wouldn’t have to confront the daunting question of:  

What comes next for me?  

Mystake places her hand over yours, sensing your debate. “The leap into the unknown is always the hardest part, but it is one we all must conquer at some point. I know you’re scared – of making mistakes and determining what your next steps are. But that’s life. Mistakes are how we learn, my dear. Heck, that’s why I’m called Mystake!”  

“But mistakes can get people killed,” you reply.  

“They can. But you’re not trusting in yourself or your training enough. What happened yesterday is rare – in my lifetime, I’ve only treated a handful of stabbings. And most of the time, they weren’t as life-threatening as Cole’s was. You’re not giving yourself enough credit – you took action, followed your training, and saved a man’s life as a result. Look at it that way.”  

You nod, watching as her steely eyes twinkle in a knowing fashion. “And truthfully…I don’t know what more I have to teach you. I truly think you’re at the point where experience will be your greatest teacher. Everything will work out for you; you just have to let it all fall into place. Before you know it, you’ll settle into your new normal without batting an eyelash over it. Because by then, it will feel right. And you’ll have been forever grateful that you took the leap.” 

“Okay,” you reply, letting her words steep. “Okay, I understand.”  

She smiles, setting a hand on your shoulder. “How about you take the day off from the store to think about it? Just tend to your patient and make sure his bandages stay clean. We can talk more about it later.”  

“Alright,” you say, nodding in response. “Thank you, Mystake.”  

With her words in mind, you set off to check on Cole.  

…  

Upon arriving, you note that Cole is already awake. Mystake must have dropped by this morning, because he’s reading a book you recognize from her prized collection. You take a moment to observe the way the strands of his dark hair fall around his face as he concentrates, eyes scouring the pages. It doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless, too – you’d been too exhausted last night to notice, but he’s nicely toned. To think you’d had your hand on his sternum, too…  

You shake your head, reassuming your professional demeanor. No checking out the hot ninja patient!  

“Good morning,” you greet, offering a demure smile as you gently shut the door. “How are you feeling, Cole?”  

“Good morning. Definitely better today,” he answers, gingerly shutting the book and setting it to the side.  

“I’m glad to hear it!” you chirp, noting that he’s also got a fresh mug of tea. “I’m going to have to check your wound quickly to make sure it’s not getting infected. I’ll get you some fresh bandages too. Our hope is that you’ll be back on your feet within the next two days or so.”  

“Sounds great,” Cole replies. As you make your way towards the supply chest to the left of the room, he calls: “Going to make fun of me again?”  

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want me to make fun of you,” you retort, grinning as you pull out a set of clean gauze as well as a special type of antiseptic cleanser.  

“It’s better than being tiptoed around, that’s for sure,” he says as you pull a rolling stool up next to him. You set your supplies on the nightstand next to him, pulling on a pair of gloves. The bands snap against your skin as you wiggle your fingers until they fit snugly inside.  

“Your friends were just worried about you. Really worried,” you reply. “But they seem better today. Way more energetic, that’s for sure.”  

Cole simpers, shaking his head lightly. “That’s good to hear. Speaking of which…where’d they run off to?”  

“They’re grabbing breakfast,” you answer. It’s then notice that his wound is covered by the blankets, so you push them aside. Cole ends up bunching up the sheets, letting them rest over his middle. With the fabric now out of your way, you start peeling the gauze away.  

“Alright, let’s see here…” you trail off, inspecting the wound. Everything looks okay so far – no signs of infection or reopening. Good. “Not infected. Seems to be on its way to healing. That’s good. We’re just going to clean it with an antiseptic and magic-infused solution. Its purpose is twofold: to prevent infection and speed up the healing process. It should help the cut fully close within a day or so.”  

“Great,” Cole acknowledges, watching as you pour a bit onto a clean rag. The solution fizzes, emitting a faint, white light.  

“Fair warning, it’s going to sting,” you advise, waiting for the glow to simmer down a bit.  

“Then I may not be able to handle this.”  

You roll your eyes, unable to help but smile as you look up at him. Grassy green eyes glimmer back at you playfully as you respond: “Now you’re just being a baby.”  

“Do you call all of your patients babies?” he questions, grin faltering to a grimace as you start cleaning the wound. The liquid sizzles angrily against the wound, working its magic.  

After letting it soak for a few seconds, you start wiping the excess off. “Well, considering you’re the first and only patient that I’ve fully tended to, yes.”  

“I’m your first patient? That can’t be true,” he remarks, studying your hands as they rebandage his abdomen with fresh gauze.  

“From start to end, you are. Mystake has let me practice on others before, but only on certain phases of their injury or illness. You’re the first person that I’ve both patched up and tended to during recovery. And all by myself, too.”  

“Huh. I never would have guessed that from watching you work. You’re a natural.”  

His words leave you speechless for a moment, cheeks warming as you finish rebandaging him. “Thank you; that’s sweet of you to say. I’ve still got a lot to learn, though.”  

“But I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. Give yourself some credit.”  

Unsure of what to say, you smile at him in response. Cole returns your grin, pulling the blanket back over his torso. Somehow, the quiet between you two feels…fine. You know he doesn’t mind your lack of response. It’s comfortable; not forced.  

You like that.  

A moment later, you avert your gaze, fingers slipping underneath the bands of your gloves before pulling them off. “Well…I guess I’ll be back with something for you to eat soon. I imagine they won’t be much longer.”  

“Sounds good. Thanks, doc.”  

The nickname makes your heart stumble, but you’re able to play it off. “Absolutely.”  

…  

The ninja return soon enough – not only with breakfast, but with two unfamiliar people in tow. One appears to be around their age, dressed in a white gi while the other is an elderly man donning a bamboo staff and straw hat.  

“Sorry we’re late!” Jay says as they file into the store. “We ran into our master and teammate on the way back and had to catch up.”  

“That’s okay,” you assure, noticing that the two newcomers linger at the front. Kai and Jay, on the other hand, rush to the back. Knowing Mystake will greet them, you elect to follow Kai and Jay to the dining table.  

“We realized halfway through ordering that we didn’t ask you what you wanted,” Kai admits, sheepishly grinning. “So…we just got a bunch of different stuff. Whatever you don’t want, Cole will eat. I assure you.”  

“No worries,” you reply, watching as they unload the to-go bags. A mouthwatering scent floods the air, comprised of all kinds of breakfast foods. You note that they bought many more containers than you would have initially guessed, but factoring in the realization that ninjas probably eat more solves that puzzle. Just how much do these guys eat? “Have you two checked on him yet, by the way?”  

“Yeah, we talked to him this shortly after we woke up,” Jay answers, spreading out a mound of wrapped, plastic to-go cutlery sets. Hungry hands are quick to snatch them up. 

“Good. I just changed his bandages; I think he should be up and walking within the next day or so. We’ve just got to make sure the wound stays clean for now.” 

“Do you think he could come sit with us if we help him?” Kai wonders. “Kinda sucks that he’s stuck by himself.” 

You don’t answer immediately, taking a moment to ponder the decision. “Yes, he can. But we’ll need to use a wheelchair so we don’t risk reopening the wound. I’ll help too.”  

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Cole is successfully relocated to the dining room. Kai makes you pick a container of food before shuffling the rest to Cole. Everyone settles in – including the two newcomers. Mystake remains in the front for the time being. 

Kai starts off the conversation by introducing you, then the other two: “...this is Sensei Wu, and that’s Zane.”  

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” you greet, flashing the two a smile. 

“Likewise,” returns the snowy-haired ninja. He seems far calmer than his teammates, and sports a more sophisticated personality. “We are most grateful for your aid.”  

“Why? All she did was stick a band aid on me and call me a baby,” Cole replies as everyone starts passing around food. 

Kai and Jay snicker, both accepting their to-go containers of food with ravenous eyes. Zane’s eyes scrunch in confusion while their Sensei chuckles. 

“Only a band aid?” the icy-eyed ninja wonders. “Perhaps I heard the details of your injury incorrectly-“ 

“It’s a joke, Zane,” Jay explains as he unwraps his to-go plasticware. “The injury was really bad, but she got it under control.” 

“Did you actually call him a baby, though?” Kai wonders, eyeing you expectantly. 

You find your cheeks warming again, with expectant eyes on you. “Uh…I did, yeah. But only because he said he wouldn’t be able to handle the sting of the antiseptic when he’d just survived a stabbing-“ 

At your explanation, Kai and Jay break down in a fit of laughter. Cole shakes his head with a grin, but the mood remains light. It’s such a stark contrast to last night’s atmosphere that you can’t help but giggle too. 

You can see it in Kai and Jay’s eyes, too - Jay’s striking blue eyes are twinkling with mischief, making the bags under his eyes seem less prominent. Kai’s warm brown ones are tired too, but seeing his teammate recovered enough to make light of the situation seems to have alleviated the worry he’d been experiencing throughout the night. 

And, when you look at him, you can see it in Cole’s, too – the way his vibrant, green eyes have almost brightened since you studied them last night. They had been faded and dull yesterday, but thankfully that’s no longer the case. 

You avert your gaze before he can catch you staring, though, electing to focus on your food instead. 

“Regardless of whether or not my pupil was acting like a baby, I’d still like to thank you,” interrupts the elderly man. You note how the ninja quiet down upon hearing him speak, glancing at each to see that they’ve given him their attention. “You saved my student’s life, and for that, we’re all eternally grateful.” 

A chorus of agreements emanate from the ninja as the reality of the situation settles over the group. “Of course. We’re healers; it’s what we do. I’m glad I was able to help.” 

For a moment, it’s silent until Kai speaks up: “Oh, did you guys catch the last suspect? I know I managed to get two before the third slipped away.” 

“Yes, we located him before we came here,” Zane answers. “He’s in custody now.” 

Cole nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Good. I’m glad.” 

The conversation turns towards the ninja’s training. While you don’t understand much of what they’re talking about, you’re able to chime in on occasion. They still manage to include you in the chat – namely when Jay suggests you could become a “ninja doctor”. 

Which somehow turns into a debate about the conflicting nature of such a title – a ninja who could heal and hurt. It stuns you how the ninja are able to get so philosophical about something so silly. 

“No, no, Kai, you’re missing the point. It’s like what Master Splinter said in the twenty-twelve version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Jay argues before quoting: “’Do no harm, unless you need to do harm. Then do lots of harm!’” 

Kai narrows his eyes, pondering Jay’s claim momentarily. “So, by that logic, are we all healers, then? Because we don’t do harm unless we need to?” 

“Kai’s right,” Cole agrees, starting on what must be his third box of food. “That’s too general to go by. But it is a fantastic quote, though. Sounds like something Master Wu would say.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jay frowns, trailing off. “But she could be like Donatello, though. He fights but also kind of serves as the team medic.” 

“No, no, Donnie’s way smarter than I am,” you counter. “I can’t invent or do anything as scientific as he can.” 

Jay shrugs. “But you don’t have to. You’d just heal one of us and then go smack someone up with a bo staff.” 

This makes you all chuckle, and leads you to another thought: “Hey, do you guys realize how similar you are to the ninja turtles?” 

A collective epiphany dawns on Kai, Jay, and Cole as they stare at each other, eyes widening. 

“Woah,” Jay mumbles. “Wait, wait, guys she’s onto something!” 

The redhead points at Sensei Wu, then trails his finger across the table. “Sensei…you’re basically Master Splinter. Cole’s our leader, so he’s Leo. Kai’s the hothead, which makes him Raph. I’m the funny and cute one, so naturally I’m Mikey. And Zane’s the brainiac, so he’s Donnie. And Nya’s kind of like April!” 

A sound of awe emanates from three of the ninja, nodding their heads at Jay’s analysis. Poor Zane just seems lost. 

“Are you comparing me to a giant, mutated rat man?” Sensei Wu questions, amusement laced in his gaze. 

“So, you do watch modern TV!” Kai cries, pointing an accusatory finger at Wu. “See! I told you he was lying to us!” 

From there, they start to laugh about Wu before comparing the villains they’ve fought to the ones that appear in the show. That’s when you’re not able to keep up as well. 

Regardless, you roll with the flow of the discussion, surprised at how much you’re enjoying it. A few times, you catch Cole’s stare. 

He never averts his gaze, or makes you feel embarrassed. Instead, he smiles. 

You’re not sure that your heart is supposed to be beating so hard every time it happens, but you can’t help it. Even so, you ignore it. 

… 

Shortly after breakfast, the ninja wheel Cole back into the recovery ward. Zane remains momentarily to help you clean up before joining them. 

“I hope they haven’t been too rowdy,” comes the voice of Sensei Wu. 

You shake your head. “No, they’ve been great. They’re…fun, actually. I’ve enjoyed having them around.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been training them for a good while, but even now they can be a handful.” 

The old man quiets momentarily, free hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Mystake tells me you’re considering new opportunities to practice your craft. Is this true?” 

“Oh, um…yeah, it is. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do, but…yeah, definitely thinking about it.” 

Sensei Wu nods in acknowledgement, eyes contemplative as he selects his next words: “I see. Well, I heard about how you handled Cole’s injury from Kai and Jay. If you’re interested, I’d like to offer you a position as our team’s medic.” 

Your eyes widen as your jaw goes slack, the unexpectedness of the proposition making your mind whirl. He wants you to become their official medic? 

“What? Really?” you wonder. “But I don’t have any field experience yet! Cole is the first patient I’ve tended to from start to finish.” 

“That’s all right. We’ve all got to start somewhere. The ninja themselves have only just finished their training and are now fighting together on their own. You’re similar to them in that regard. For all of you, experience will be your greatest teacher from now on.” 

That sentence reminds you of what Mystake said earlier – about experience. It dawns on you that they’re absolutely right – you’re never going to get better by letting your fear win. You have to break the confines of comfortability and get out there. 

Then, a question occurs to you: did Mystake know about this? Is this the job that she was talking about earlier – the one you were supposed to pack for? You’d have to ask her later. 

“And if you like, we could even try out, say…a trial. You could come work with us for a few weeks and see how you like it. If it’s not what you’re looking for, then you won’t have to commit.” 

“I…like the sound of that, actually,” you admit. “So…how would that work?” 

“You’d stay at my monastery. Depending on the circumstances, you might travel with the ninja for missions that are riskier or farther away. Of course, you won’t ever get close enough to be in danger. If you like, we could even have you trained to help design our missions. Kai’s sister handles a decent portion of the mission planning, but a fresh set of eyes always helps.” 

You like the sound of that. Traveling? Learning new skills? Working alongside the ninja? Just imagining the variety presented by the job gets you excited! 

“Sounds dynamic and fun – which is exactly what I’m looking for. Let’s try it out,” you reply, offering your hand. 

The old man grins, shaking your hand. “We’re looking forward to working with you.” 

… 

A few hours pass, with the ninja and Wu slinking back to the recovery ward. You take an hour or so for yourself, hanging out in your room while thinking about what you’d take for your trial run with the ninja. After much debate, you manage to get what you need packed while leaving out enough items for the day or so it’d take Cole to get back on his feet. Mystake’s healing antiseptic works wonders, so you know it’s simply a matter of time. 

You wind up feeling too antsy to settle down, so you insist on taking over for Mystake while she takes a lunch break. 

Thankfully, the main rush is over for the day. Once the last few customers pour out of the store, you decide to start restocking. A soft hum sounds from your lips as you climb a stepstool, a box of tea tucked underneath your arm as you make sure to maintain your balance. 

While you work, a soft whistling tune drifts from the hallway, accompanied by heavy footsteps. When they approach the entrance to the shop, you turn your head. 

Kai stands there, checking the shelves with scrutinizing eyes. You huff a silent laugh, wondering what’s he looking for. 

“Need something?” you wonder, stepping down from the ladder. 

“Oh, hey. Didn’t see you,” Kai notes, pivoting around to face you. “Yeah, Mystake was asking for me to grab some kind of tea. Reme-tea, I think she said?” 

You nod, gesturing for him to follow you towards the back. “I know what you’re talking about. Follow me.” 

“Are all of her teas named with puns?” he inquires. 

“A lot of them are. She thinks she’s funny,” you mumble, rolling your eyes affectionately. “But she names others a little more artistically.” 

“That explains a lot of what Master Wu drinks. He must shop here a lot.” 

“I can’t remember if I’ve seen him here before,” you admit, stopping when you reach the correct shelf. You rummage through the tea, frowning upon realizing the shelf needs to be reorganized. “I’ve served so many customers that their faces might as well be a blur to me – especially since a lot of them come during the early hours.” 

“I get that. I used to work at my parent’s blacksmith shop with my sister. Can’t say I miss the work; it got way too repetitive and bland for our taste. I can’t smith to save my life. It was a miracle that we made enough to scrape by.” 

“Blacksmithing, huh? Sounds hard,” you sympathize, glad that someone else understands the pains of customer service. Even so, you wonder why his parents wouldn’t help them out. Knowing that might be a sensitive topic, you elect not to pry. 

“Yeah, suffice to say it…wasn’t for us. I’m glad Sensei Wu found us when he did.” He pauses momentarily as you move your search to a different shelf, wondering where in the hell Mystake moved the Reme-tea. “But that reminds me…Sensei said you’d be staying with us to test out a work opportunity.” 

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been dying to get out of here, honestly. I’m just kind of scared to get out in the field, but…you know. I won’t find out until I do it.” 

The brunet nods, turning to glance over the other shelves in an effort to help your search. “I know the feeling.” 

“You were nervous to become a ninja?” you respond. 

“Yeah, I was scared, but…I didn’t really have a choice. My sister was kidnapped by a group of Garmadon’s goons who’d come to our village. If Sensei hadn’t saved me, I would have been a goner…but they still got away with her. I had to change because she needed my help. So…I swallowed my fear and just worked. I didn’t give myself a chance to think about it. I went with Wu and didn’t look back.” 

You gasp at the story, frowning. “I’m so sorry…that must have been horrific. I can’t imagine…” 

Kai shrugs, smiling softly. You finally find the tea you’re looking for, reaching to grab it. 

“It was scary at the time. But Nya’s tough, and she ended up being just fine. We saved her, introduced her to the team, and…well, we’ve all stuck together since. I dunno, I guess things just kind of…fell into place for us.” 

You nod, curious at the mention of his sister. “I’m glad to hear that’s she okay. How do you guys like being ninja?” 

“Honestly…” Kai trails off, seemingly searching for words as the two of you linger in the back. “At first, I was only doing it so I could rescue her. But…after we got her back, the thought of returning to the shop just…filled me with dread. I knew I couldn’t go back to the way I was living. Being a ninja is way more fulfilling for me. We get to travel, meet new people from all over Ninjago, fly on our dragons, fight for the greater good…and that’s all I need.” 

“Wow. That sounds…perfect,” you mumble, mulling over his words. 

He nods in agreement. “It really is. I think you’ll like working with us. My sister’s going to love you; as well as we all get along, I think she gets sick of us sometimes. But you’ll know for sure after a week or so. Though, you never know – you might get sick of us.” 

You snicker at this, shaking your head. “I won’t get sick of you. Honestly…it’s been nice having you guys around, even for such a short time. I’ve never felt so…” 

“Engaged? Not in a haze of repetition?” he finishes with a knowing smirk. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

“That’s how I felt too, working with the guys for the first time. It’s safe to say that’s a good sign.” 

You nod, the two of you walking back towards the hallway. Once you’re there, you hand him the tea box. “I think so too.” 

Kai smirks, thanking you before starting back towards the recovery ward. On his way back, he calls: 

“Besides…how else are you going to keep making fun of Cole?” 

… 

The day passes with you dining alongside the ninja again – this time with Mystake. You notice that she’s uncharacteristically quiet through the event, causing you to make a mental note to ask her about it later. 

Cole’s injury is healing faster than you’d thought it would. Mystake’s antiseptic solution combined with a new tea made for a speedy recovery. At this rate, he’d be up and walking come tomorrow. 

As such, the team is preparing to leave. Watching them restlessly discuss what they’d do when they return made you realize your time in the tea shop is drawing to a close. 

And it simultaneously excites and terrifies you. 

While you lay in bed that night, you wonder if this is how Kai felt when he left to become a ninja. He had said he’d been scared. Somehow, that comforts you. Even someone as confident as him got scared too. 

Late into the night, though, your mind gets tired of worrying. Instead, you decide to get excited about trying something new. 

That thought makes you smile as you drift off into a dreamless sleep. 

… 

It seems like you’d only been asleep for minutes when you jolt awake to the vibration of…something. It rocks the building, making your eyes widen. Was that an earthquake?! 

Another one shakes the shop, this time accompanied by…a roar? Your heart races at the noise, wondering what it could be. Especially at this hour – a glance outside tells you that it’s either very late or extremely early. 

Chills erupt across your skin as you exit your room, eyes searching for potential source as you make your way towards the front. It must have come from outside. 

Even before you open the door, you can hear voices outside. They don’t sound panicked at all, which makes you feel somewhat better as you push the door open. 

Immediately, you’re met with the crisp, morning breeze. It makes you shiver, wishing you’d thought to bring a jacket out beforehand. The sky is still dark and riddled with stars, leaving you to wonder what time it is. Regardless, you press on, looking up to see Kai, who is facing the alley and speaking lowly to something. A strange, red glow illuminates his figure. 

Cole, Jay, and Zane are towards the left side of the shop, all speaking quietly amongst themselves. Cole is back on his feet and seems to be doing okay. Even though it’s early, a sense of restlessness courses about the four. They must be ready to get back into action. 

Deciding that you’ve stared enough, you make your presence known. “Guys? Is everything okay?” 

The brunet is the only one to hear you, holding one of his arms out towards the alleyway. “Hey, morning. Sorry, did we wake you?” 

You shake your head, stepping a bit closer. “No, I just...heard something.” 

“Yeah...about that,” Kai lowers the hand that he’d held to the alleyway. “Those noises were our dragons. Sorry, we probably should have warned you guys beforehand. It just didn’t cross our mind.” 

“Dragons?” you repeat, glancing into the alley. “You guys have-” 

A pair of vibrant, neon orange eyes stare at you from the darkness, making you freeze. Out from the alley creeps a dragon. 

A growl rolls from its throat as it studies you, its red head flecked with streaks of orange. Unfurling from its sides are a pair of brilliant red wings that exude a warm, red light. Its underbelly is protected by many rows of thick, orange bands that contrast against the darkened red scales of its body. Beneath the bands, you can see red patches swirling with energy. 

You take a step back, seeing Kai’s arm swing out in front of you when the dragon steps towards you. It snarls again, giving you a mean glare. 

“Stop being an asshole,” Kai scolds, stepping up to the beast while glaring at it. It lowers its snout, allowing Kai to pet it. “It’s okay, boy. She’s a friend.” 

“You...have a dragon?” you question incredulously, heart racing as you study the creature. Its – his? - eyes flutter shut at Kai’s touch, wings furling in so that he doesn’t appear as massive. 

 “Yep. We all do,” Kai replies, gesturing behind you. You spin tentatively, breath hitching as you see three more accompanying each of the ninja. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, anxiety snowballing into excitement as you take your time studying each of them. “They’re...they’re beautiful. I never thought that I’d get to see one in person...” 

“Wanna pet him?” Kai offers, hand lingering on his dragon’s neck. “Though, fair warning, everyone else except me says that he’s hot to the touch. Not hot enough to burn yourself, but hotter than you’d expect.” 

You nod in acknowledgement, cautiously lifting your hand. The dragon doesn’t flinch, trusting in his master as you gently place your hand flat against his snout. A grumble rumbles throughout his body, seemingly okay with your touch. Through your legs, you can feel the vibrations of the growl. This has to be what woke you up. 

“Wow...” you say, noting that Kai was right – the scales are burning up. It’s almost like they’re containing a full-on wildfire underneath. “Why’s he so hot?” 

“He’s a fire dragon. He was guarding the Sword of Fire when we found him,” Kai explains, smiling softly as he strokes the side of the dragon’s snout. “Same story with the others and their weapons. We realized we needed to fight alongside them, not against them.” 

“Did you guys name them?” you wonder, glancing back at Kai. 

“Yeah. Flame.” 

“Hi, Flame,” you mumble, smiling at the dragon. He huffs softly in response, small columns of smoke puffing from his nostrils. You feel like you’re standing in front of a bonfire; you don’t have to be terribly close to experience the warmth emanating from his body. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Kai chuckles, taking his hand off of Flame. “He likes you.” 

“I...I’m at a loss for words. This is the coolest thing ever...” you trail off, slowly taking your hand off of Flame as well. The fire dragon shifts so that he’s laying down, snout dropping to rest on the grass. You're reminded of a sleepy puppy. 

Jay’s is the next dragon you greet. 

“Meet Wisp!” Jay introduces, telling your name to the dragon even though he can’t talk. Wisp tilts his head, curiosity flashing in his electric eyes. This dragon is a gorgeous shade of blue, built similarly to Flame with one exception. If you had to guess, you’d say that Wisp is sleeker – made for speed. Wisp also appears to be friendlier than Flame. 

“Wisp. That’s an adorable name,” you compliment, smiling as you approach the dragon. “Hello, Wisp!” 

You tentatively reach your hand out, giggling when Wisp bumps his forehead against the palm of your hand, eager to be pet. Jay grins at the interaction. 

Unlike Flame, you swear Wisp’s scales are tingling with underlying magic. Electricity tickles your skin, making you pull away from the dragon with a giggle. 

“He’s tickly, isn’t he? Poor guy can’t help it; he’s always emitting a low amount of electricity,” Jay explains, gently scratching Wisp in a specific spot under his chin. Wisp hums in content, leaning into Jay’s touch. 

“That’s amazing,” you reply, smiling at Wisp before turning to the next dragon. 

This one is Rocky – Cole's dragon. This guy is certainly the bulkiest of the four, with scales that feel like rock underneath your fingertips. He seems to be made to take and deliver hits. 

“Hi,” you say softly, carefully scratching the area above his nose. Rocky nuzzles his snout against your palm, eager to receive more pets. 

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” you coo, watching as the dragon closes his eyes. 

Cole pushes himself off against the wall he’d been leaning on, adorning a disbelieving expression. “Are you kidding me?” 

“What?” you wonder. 

“He’s usually a jerk,” Cole grumbles, glaring at Rocky. You’re not fluent in dragon expressions, but you have a feeling that Rocky is taunting Cole somehow. “He’s always pushing us around, not...cuddling us! What’s your deal, man?!” 

“I think it’s because you’re mean to him,” you retort, laughing when Rocky bumps his snout against your arm. You realize he wants more pets, so you oblige without complaint. 

“Or because he’s a baby!” Jay calls, earning a laugh from Kai. 

Cole rolls his eyes, stepping beside you to pet the dragon as well. You take note of how Cole’s eyes soften upon seeing his dragon. The sight makes you wonder what kind of bond they have, and how it came to be. 

“And now they’re never going to let me live that down. See what you’ve done?” Cole says, turning to you with a smirk. 

“I don’t feel too bad,” you retaliate before moving to the last dragon. 

“Who’s this?” you ask, directing your question to Zane. He’d been sitting quietly alongside the icy blue and white dragon, which is laying down behind him. 

“His name is Shard,” Zane answers, tone soft as he glances up at you. “And I must apologize...he does not like being touched by people he doesn’t know very well. I imagine he will come around in a few weeks.” 

“Oh, that’s okay. I understand.” You smile, studying the dragon a bit longer. You decide to leave him alone for the time being, instead swiveling around to face the other ninja. 

The other two dragons have settled for the morning too, all laying down. Kai and Jay are near the front of the shop now, the two speaking quietly. Zane joins them a few moments later. 

Cole steps beside you, watching the three before answering your unasked question: “I think they’re going to try to get a quick sparring session in before we go. They need to loosen up and let some energy out.” 

“You’re sitting out, right?” you inquire, eyes narrowing in concern. 

“Yeah. I know the cut finally closed all the way, but it still hurts,” he comments. 

“Good. I know that stuff healed your wound pretty well, but Mystake is still putting the finishing touches on that particular formula. So just...take it easy for a few more days, then you can go back to crimefighting and whatnot.” 

“Are you saying you used me as a test subject?” Cole replies, crossing his arms as Jay gestures towards a small clearing across the shop. It’s grassy and spacious – perfect for a spar. You and Cole follow the three there, standing towards the side as Kai and Zane get into position. 

“We try our new teas and potions on ourselves before anyone else,” you say. Just from observing their stances, you can already see how differently these guys fight from each other – Kai's stance is loose, and he’s staying mobile while remaining focused on Zane. The white ninja, on the other hand, adopts a more formal version of Kai’s. He’s not as jittery as Kai, but he’s studying Kai. Watching, and waiting. 

“And then you just...perfect them as time goes on?” Cole wonders, the two of you watching as Kai launches an attack. 

“Pretty much. Once you understand the base recipes, and how different ingredients affect the base, it’s easy to come up with what you need. So, there’s not much risk in involved.” 

“I see,” Cole trails off, cringing when Zane exploits an opening Kai failed to notice. The white ninja lands a kick on Kai’s torso, eliciting a curse from the red ninja. 

“Ouch,” you hiss, your ribs hurting just from watching them. “How do you guys do this? And enjoy it?” 

“It pays off in its own way,” Cole replies with a shrug. “The risk is part of the thrill for us.” 

“I think you guys are just crazy,” you mumble, eyeing the fight. 

Your statement makes Cole laugh, the ninja unfolding his arms as he turns towards you. “You know, most people just call us noble. Or brave. Heroic, even.” 

“I’m sure; I’m just not much of an ass-kisser.” 

“And that’s exactly why she needs to be our medic,” Kai calls, he and Jay laughing at the exchange. 

“I am not familiar with the act of ass-kissing,” Zane says, he and Kai stopping their match. “Is it in a literal or figurative sense? And why is imperative that our medic does not kiss ass?” 

The white ninja’s remark cracks Kai and Jay up. Zane’s expression leaves you feeling a little bad for him, though. 

You lean over to Cole again, making sure they aren’t listening as you ask your next question. “Is he always that dense?” 

“Yep. Don’t get me wrong...he’s really smart, but stuff like this always flies over his head,” he answers before walking towards the others and answering Zane’s query.  

“Figuratively, Zane. An ass-kisser or kiss-ass is someone who sucks up to someone else. It’s usually to win approval or favors; it depends on the context. And it’s not a required quality of a medic, but personally, I think it’s more fun that way.” 

“She’ll be able to see right through our bullshit,” Kai adds. “She’ll do her job, but won’t baby us.” 

Jay pulls himself up from his previous sitting position, stepping over to the group and adding: “Although, she’s not opposed to calling people babies.” 

"Ah. I see now,” Zane says. “Thank you for the explanation.” 

A silence sweeps over the five of you, partnered with a sudden chilly breeze. You turn around to have another glance at the dragons, watching as they all nap peacefully. A few onlookers have gathered towards the end of the street, ogling the dragons with hushed murmurs. 

“We should probably get going soon,” Kai notes upon seeing the crowd. “Wouldn’t want to affect Mystake’s customer flow with our dragons.” 

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “We can strap your stuff to Rocky. He’s probably the best suited to carry extra weight.” 

You nod in response, realizing that this is the last morning you’ll spend here for at least two weeks – more if the job goes as well as you think it will. A pit funnels into your stomach, hands twiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

“Okay,” you finally say, turning back towards the ninja. “I’m gonna go talk to Mystake, then.” 

Cole nods, bits of understanding flickering in his eyes. “Take your time.” 

You smile appreciatively, leaving the group and passing by the snoozing dragons. The bell chimes as you enter the shop, seeing Mystake at the register. 

A glance at the clock tells you that the shop has roughly forty-five minutes until opening, giving you a bit of time to say your goodbyes. 

The elderly woman looks up at you once you approach, smiling as you greet her. 

“Good morning,” you say. 

“Good morning, dearie,” Mystake says, expression softening as she glances out the window to look at the ninja. “I suppose today’s the day, isn’t it?” 

You nod. “Yeah...it is.” 

She steps around the counter, hand coming to clasp around yours. “Come with me. I need to give you something.” 

Your mentor guides you towards your room, where your packed belongings lay. On top of your bed is a canvas bag. You note that’s it is your favorite color, complete with a crossbody strap, several pockets, and metal clasps. It looks to be built for durability and function – the straps are thicker than you’d expect to find on a regular bag. 

“I’ve prepared this for you,” she starts, sitting on the edge of your bed. You do the same, settling in across from her. “I’m glad you’ll be working with Wu. I always give him a hard time, but he’s a good man. And, since I’ve known him for so long, I had an idea of what you should bring.” 

With that, Mystake tugs the bag into her lap, snapping the clasps open. “This bag contains everything you’ll need to get started.” 

The first object she pulls out is a wooden box – it's handcrafted and painted your favorite color, decorated with floral engravings along the sides. “This box is filled with your basic teas and potions. There should be enough for two weeks. Should you decide to stay with them, I’ve made something else for you.” 

Mystake sets the box aside, hands delving back into the bag to reveal a handcrafted leather journal. The cover is black, painted with pink and purple symbols that seem familiar somehow. The pages are thick and gray, like a stormy sky. 

“This is a copy of my recipe book. Every potion and tea you’ve ever crafted under my guidance can be found here – with the exception of my secret ones, of course. There are also a few blank pages in the back so you can create your own, too.” 

Then, Mystake tilts the bag towards you. You peer inside, seeing various basic medical supplies – bandages, gauze, simple over-the-counter medicines. It looks like enough for two weeks as well. “And, lastly, traditional medical supplies. Enough for the duration of your stay." 

With that, Mystake repacks the bag and sets it aside. 

Your eyes are watering slightly as you stare at the bag, watching as she snaps the clasps shut. “Mystake...I don’t know what to say. I...” 

She chuckles, taking your hands in hers. Wrinkled, steely gray eyes peer at you from underneath her straw hat, just as glassy as yours.  

“It’s okay, because I already understand how you feel. I know what you want to say. I was in your position once, after all. I was standing before my family in my homeland, about to travel into this world so I could fulfill my duty. But I never could have imagined what awaited me in a Ninjago – a land where I could live a mundane life, set up a silly old tea shop. A land where I had the blessing to train one of the brightest pupils that I’ve ever mentored.” She pauses, squeezing your hands. “I’m so proud of you.” 

That does it. You sniffle, letting yourself cry. “You are?” 

“Of course I am,” she mumbles. “You’ve come such a long way since the day I found you. And now you’re preparing to work on your own…” 

“Mystake…” You’re unable to finish your sentence as you envelope her in a hug – the woman who’d taken you in, mentored you. “You…you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you.” 

Her arms coil tighter still around your figure, and against your arms you can feel the scratchy wool of her handknitted sweater. An herbal scent floods your senses as you soak it in, knowing this will be the last time you smell it in a while. 

It would forever remind you of her. 

“I’m honored I got the chance to mentor you, and get to know you as a young lady. You’re going to do incredible things. The world is yours, dearie; grab it by the neck and throttle it!” 

You giggle, already knowing that you’re going to miss her eccentric self. “I won’t ever be able to repay you for everything that you’ve done for me. All I can say is: thank you, Mystake. I’m going to do all I can to make you proud. I’m forever grateful for your hospitality and mentorship.” 

“You’ve already made me proud. I know you’re going to be amazing. You’ll be the best damned medic in Ninjago, you hear me? Now get out there and make it happen. They’re waiting for you.” 

With those parting words, Mystake stands, pulling the bag she’d prepared into her arms. “Ready?” 

You make sure you have your bags before nodding, glancing around your room one last time. Without your belongings scattered about the room, it seems far too empty. Your eyes soften as you study the area, heart aching when you realize you won’t be coming back to sleep here again for a while. 

Despite your reluctance, you smile, mumbling a soft “thank you” to the room that had sheltered you for all of those years. 

A sigh escapes you as you turn, following Mystake out of the shop. 

The sun is higher in the sky now, and the dragons seem to be reenergized. Jay and Wisp are play fighting where Kai and Zane had been sparring earlier; Cole is fussing over Rocky while Kai is adjusting a saddle on Flame. Zane and Shard are still sitting together, watching the others struggle. 

“You rapscallions better treat my pupil well,” Mystake grumbles, eyeing the crowd still ogling the dragons. “We can hurt just as well as we can heal-” 

“Mystake,” you interrupt, chuckling as Jay’s eyes widen. “It’s going to be just fine.” 

“Here, let me take those for you,” Cole replies, reaching for your bags. You oblige, grinning softly at him as you hand them to him. 

“Thank you,” you reply, watching as he sets them on Rocky’s back. Kai approaches once he’s done, holding a mix of ropes and bungee cords. 

The two set about strapping your luggage to the dragon, making sure that they’re secure before asking Rocky to move around a little. After a few adjustments have been made, Cole nods in approval. 

“Alright, I think we’re about set,” Cole notes, glancing around at the others. “Who’s gonna take Wu back?” 

“I can,” Kai answers, the four grouping together as Sensei Wu emerges from the store. 

“Alright. Then I guess we’re headed back to the monastery, then,” Cole replies. The others nod in agreement, preparing to board their dragons. The black ninja takes a moment to double check the bags before turning to you. 

His green eyes sparkle in the morning light, lips quirking into a soft smile. “Anything else you need to do before we take off?” 

You don’t answer immediately, instead turning towards Mystake again. Wordlessly, you loop your arms around her neck. 

She returns your embrace, voice soft in your ear as she says: “I’m going to miss you, but I’m glad you’re pursuing your dream. Remember what I said. Take care, dear. I’m always here if you need me.” 

“Thank you. I’m going to miss you too.” 

She pulls away from you, lips pressed together tightly as she releases you. “Now go.” 

For a moment, your throat tightens with the things you want to say to her. Despite this, you hesitate, realizing that she already knows what you want to say. 

With that, you turn back towards the ninja before you, glancing up at him through glassy eyes. 

“Okay,” you murmur, nodding briskly. “I’m ready.” 

Always happy to read fresh requests. Read my guidelines before submitting, please!

[aroaceleovaldez]

Any headcannons about Will Solace? he's an underrated bby (I think?) and I personally hc that he used to be a very moody kid but then decided to turn off all of his negaive emotions (most of the time)

oh i have SO many Will Solace headcanons built up from writing him on Deadangelos so much. Below the cut cause this is very long (and tumblr started glitching about the list format so manual it is):

- His roles at CHB are basically "Every possible medical personnel Ever™." He's camp medic, physician, surgeon, pediatrician, pharmacist, psychiatrist, therapist, dentist, optometrist, veterinarian, etc etc etc. Technically Chiron is also All Of That, but ever since Will joined camp most of the responsibility falls to him (at least in part because campers generally feel a bit more comfortable dealing with somebody their own age versus an immortal centaur), and Chiron just mentors him on it (unless they're running low on hands, in which case Chiron does pitch in, and sometimes the other Apollo kids help staff the infirmary if Will needs. In the past though it was usually just Chiron and whichever camper he pulled in that week to do first aid training with. Mr. D only really handles therapy stuff if Will isn't able to for one reason or another. Will gets very individualized training and has has own schedule separate from the rest of his cabin to account for all of that. Chiron basically personally took Will in under his wing as his apprentice and a not insignificant portion of Will's personal training is gross anatomy lessons with Chiron in the camp morgue. Will does not question where Chiron procures the cadavers for that. He probably should. They aren't campers. They are sometimes demigods, but not always. Most of the rest of camp doesn't even know there's a morgue, let alone that Will does gross anatomy dissection. It's not technically a camp "secret," Will isn't secret about it at all, but most campers treat it like it is and like to use it to try and spook new campers. The ones who find out about the gross anatomy portion and that there is exactly zero information about how Chiron is procuring cadavers are Mildly Concerned.

- Photokinesis and plague powers Will are both extremely fun. I love making him a son of Apollo Smintheus specifically and giving him pet rats and/or the ability to talk to rats and mice. He thinks they're soooo cute and is definitely the type to brag about how intelligent rats are. I also like to think he maybe had a pet snake at one point, like a big ol' boa. Will with a sunglow boa or something? yes? (I also just in general love the idea of Will's house back in Texas being a cute little ranch cause Naomi is rich and also a cowgirl and Will having a ton of different animals over the years. He probably originally wanted to be a veterinarian before he settled more on medic.)

- I just generally love playing with Will (not-so) subtly being the exact opposite of what people would expect from an Apollo kid. Initially he looks like the gold standard for an Apollo kid - sunny, friendly, chill, medic/healer, interest in science/arts/fandom, etc etc. Then you speak to him for more than 20 minutes and find out he loves snakes and rats and guts and gore and is fascinated by disease and mold. He takes gross anatomy classes taught by Chiron. One of his favorite hobbies is just dissecting stuff. He's into vulture culture. His idea of a perfect date is holding hands over a cadaver he is actively cutting into and passing the other person cool stuff he's fishing out. Also he's very vocal about thinking monsters are hot and the combo of all of that is exactly why he's into Nico. Everybody else thinks Nico's inherently cursed or something? Will doesn't mind being cursed - in fact he wants to be cursed, for science. He's swooning over the idea of Nico sacrificing him for some dark ritual in the middle of the night. He daydreams about Nico being a vampire that's gonna romantically kill him. The rest of camp is waiting for the day Will does something stupid and gets himself killed like, flirting with a monster (or the Hades kid) or something. Nico just generally doesn't know how to feel about the whole situation but is? (hesitantly) flattered?? that somebody is enthusiastic about him while recognizing and appreciating his Underworld aspects. Will is out-weirding him, somehow, and Nico never knew this was a thing that could happen.

- Related to that - I have a whole headcanon about "Bad Omen" demigods, which are basically the other main CHB cabin's versions of Hephaestus kids with fire powers being bad luck. For Apollo kids their "bad luck omen" super rare power is a plague-powers kid, and Will showed up during the Titan War, just a couple months before the Battle for Manhattan when nearly all his cabin died. He is very acutely aware of this superstition and fully believes he is a bad luck charm for the cabin and feels SUUUUPER guilty about it and so hides his plague powers. It's not that he feels bad about his plague powers specifically - he thinks plague stuff is really fascinating and his powers are cool and can be used for healing too! - he's just really concerned about how others will view him. (Very strong parallel dynamics between how Will views his plague powers vs the stigma around them & how Nico views his Underworld powers vs the stigma around them. They are handshake emoji).

- TTC implies that Apollo kids are more often than not summer-only campers, and I think it's fun to have Will's backstory being: He may or may not have "accidentally" caused a plague/pest outbreak at his old school early into the year and between that school having to shut down for a couple of months because of that and his mom maybe going on tour, they decided it was time for him to move to CHB and go there year-round. Except he goes from Texas to New York in the middle of winter and he's a son of Apollo, so he gets there and it's like sleet and slush and all cold and he's the only Apollo kid at camp and he hates it so bad. He eventually gets used to it but it is awkward when all his siblings come back in the spring/summer to find they have a new youngest sibling who's just been chilling all by himself for a couple of months. But then Austin and Kayla join so at least he's not the newest/youngest Apollo kid. (But then nearly all of Cabin 7 immediately dies in TLO and Will's right back to being in a mostly empty cabin and being in charge.)

- He definitely puts on an approachable/friendly, or at the very least calm, face 99% of the time, partially because it's expected of him and it's also maybe a little bit masking (it's a lot masking) cause he knows he can be a bit much. He is 100% the type of guy who feels like he has to solve all his problems himself and can't let anybody else know he has problems, and also that he has to help everybody else with their problems because that's his job, right? So he's constantly stressing himself out to the point of breakdown. He also half lives in the infirmary (which he totally has his own little office in) and he'll just shut himself in and spend like, a couple of days straight in there and probably not sleep. He's a workaholic just as bad as Nico and a total hypocrite about it/about overexerting one's self but he's working on it. Nico's too much of a take-no-shit kind of guy (and also him and Will are way too similar) so usually when Will nags Nico about that kind of thing it turns into Will looking in a mirror or Nico turning it back around on him and Will going "ah shit i need to take my own advice >:T"

- He's best friends with Drew Tanaka and he lets out his bitchy side when he's hanging out with her. they are bitching friends. they love to bitch. It's a great venting environment for him cause he knows Drew loves to hear him complain and talk shit so he can just let out all his pent-up frustrations and she'll just enthusiastically eat it all up. The two of them will gossip endlessly. Drew is mildly concerned about Will's romantic tastes though (again: monsters. cryptids. the Addams family. evils from the shadows. the guy from The Shape Of Water. Nico) and keeps trying to talk him out of flirting with things that might kill him. He does not listen to her.

- His only normal crush is Paolo but everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop about how Will could possibly be weird about this one (there's an ongoing camp bet with different theories). He also dated Drew for like, all of a week but they both decided they totally hated it and preferred to stay just besties (bonus points: That was what Drew considered as her passing the whole Aphrodite-kids-breaking-hearts thing. literally neither of them cared).

- I know his full name is William but it's really funny if he lies about that and his full name is actually Wilhelm, named after the scream.

- ...He is a Swiftie. He's been a Swiftie since he was younger back with like, OG-era country music Taylor Swift and he's just stuck with it.

- Trans!Will is fun and I love it lots. Drew helping him with transition stuff is also very near and dear to me.

- His crush on Nico originates from them meeting for the first time during the Battle for Manhattan. Nico's attempt at flirting with Percy misfired and hit Will instead lmao. Nico parts the Titan Army in cool thematic armor and with three gods in tow, says a dramatic one-liner, and then is super badass in battle and Will is head-over-heels for him immediately. He then proceeds to spend the next year obsessing over Nico and being tormented by Nico never being at camp and never being able to talk with him. Ergo why when Nico shows up in BoO, Will is immediately like "HOLD MY HANDS. THREE DAYS IN THE INFIRMARY. HANG OUT WITH ME PLEASEEEE-" (and that's why Will was under the assumption that Nico was actively avoiding people rather than being ostracized, cause he had heart-eyes tunnel vision). Him in BoO though really is just seeing his crush and losing all his cool.

- For some reason he is just an absolute magnet for chthonic demigods. Nico, Lou Ellen, Cecil (who i hc is a chthonic Hermes kid), etc etc. He thinks Underworld stuff is super cool though (again, see: Will being super into spooky/gory stuff/etc). Also all the ex-Titan army kids decided they were his personal body guards immediately after the war cause he was nice to them.

- He is a HUUUUGE nerd. Specifically a sci-fi and disney nerd. They're his hyperfixations (/special interests if you lean more autistic!Will) <3 His favorite franchises are Star Wars and Avatar (the blue one). He loves conceptual alien biology/ecology and could go on about it endlessly. He will also very enthusiastically infodump about Disney history (both the art/animation side and theme parks side) and other sci-fi series. Ask him about Doctor Who (you will be there for several hours).

- Will being a micro-celebrity cause of his mom is very fun to me. He's been on talk shows and stuff before cause people love how snarky this country star's kid is. He has an extremely popular Instagram and Austin uses him as clickbait in his Youtube videos extremely often (including forcing him to guest-star or do like react content and stuff) (Will is more than happy to indulge him though cause he finds it funny).

- I also love the idea that Will and Piper have actually known each other since they were little, from Tristan and Naomi meeting at some point and realizing they had kids the same age and encouraging them to be pen-pals. Once social media becomes more of a like, Proper Thing™ they become mutuals on Instagram but just use it to periodically send each other silly memes (Piper's instagram is private and basically all she uses it for is dm'ing people). It takes them a solid week of being at CHB together to realize "WAIT, YOU'RE THAT [PIPER/WILL]?!" One of their hobbies is going into the city and seeing if people will recognize them/if paparazzi will see them and making games out of it (who can ruin the most photos, what types of fake gossip can we get them trying to circulate, etc etc).

- I am a firm believer that Will is an extremely loud out-and-proud type of guy and has been for awhile (again see: him being a micro-celebrity) and he spearheads or runs a lot of pride stuff at CHB ever since he joined. If there is a pride parade/event at CHB he helps organize it. If there's a GSA club at CHB he is the head of it. He keeps pamphlets in the infirmary of queer educational material and guides to different identities and stuff and is very passionate about making people feel welcomed and comfortable. Because of this, when he found out Nico was from the 1930s and severely not up-to-date on terminology and stuff, he considered getting Nico up-to-date his greatest challenge yet. It was a personal quest for him. There was also definitely at least a week before that where Will thought Nico might be homophobic or something and was going "I CAN FIX HIM" before Nico managed to explain that no, he's... very supportive (muffled coughing coming from closet), he's just also extremely behind and doesn't know what any of those words mean, thanks. Will set up the most extensive queer crash course possible for him and poor Nico was just going "slow down please,,,," the entire time. Will gets him up mostly up to speed eventually. I just love Will being that type of guy who will start explaining misc queer history with citations at the drop of a hat. It is probably another hyperfixation of his.

- Will and Annabeth both consider Chiron an adoptive father-figure and joke about being siblings and which of them is the favorite child, cause they both know they're definitely Chiron's favorite campers. They both get him father's day cards/gifts.

[ellecdc]

Elle, lovely dovey, life is a wreck as usual. So I’ve come to one of my safe places 💗

Now, if you will indulge me (don’t have to, completely up to you), what do you think the marauders jobs after Hogwarts and ect?

awe omg okay I know this wasn't the point of your ask but to be described as one of someone's 'safe places' literally made my heart swell like I can feel it in my throat.

I'm sorry life is a wreck - I've been struggling a bit too lately and am trying to stay positive but we're in this together and that makes me feel a little bit better knowing we'll all get through it <3

Everybody lives AU post-Hogwarts jobs

James: I could totally see him being a Quidditch coach (maybe even a professional Quidditch player?), I saw a fic of him once as the flying instructor at Hogwarts and fucking loved that idea - he'd be so good with kids cuz he's just a giant kid!! Or anything with kids tbh - I don't see him managing well with a Ministry job (ADHD), perhaps a mediwix? like a nursing style job?

Sirius: he is a tough one for me because I do not think a person like Sirius would ever work for the Auror department/Ministry [as he did in canon] - Sirius Black as a person would have huuuuugggggeeee issues with positions of authority. but I also don't know what else he would do. I love the idea of him doing something creative/owning his own business - tattoo artist, chef, painter/potter/artist, barber/hair stylist etc!

Remus: understanding that even in this no Voldemort/everybody lives AU there is still a huge prejudice against werewolves etc. So I think the boys might help him open a business (I always see him doing something calm; florist/plants, books/stationary, the likes), perhaps writing for a publisher/an author, but I also think he would have been offered a position at Hogwarts way earlier as well.

Regulus: I always see him working for the Ministry in some capacity; some cushy political job lol

Barty: I've never imagined him working................huh

Lily: I see her being a healer/working in the medical field.