#i'm sick i'm bleeding leave me alone

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

It's a good thing I'm broke rn cuz...

Only 1 of those for $3. I am CRAVING!

[starsincline]

Because of Woke, schools now have to ask about your mental health after literally ruining your life.

[flocon-tourne-en-rond]

(See the post about not being superstitious but maybe being a little stitious? Turns out I've been making up many tiny beliefs the past few years, and readopting some from my childhood also)

[b00kdiary]

Stay With Me | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord.

‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image thoughts, blood and gore, and smut (Hint: Wing play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

PART THREE

I couldn't stop pacing.

That's what I did when I was nervous, and on edge- I paced. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, until I wore through the carpet and my entire body was thrumming with dread.

It had been four hours.

Four hours since Rhysand left to track those Hybern soldiers through the forest, hoping to be led back to their camp. For several weeks we've been dealing with Hybern forces infiltrating our land and yet we had no idea what they were planning.

It was the unknown that had made Rhysand go out tonight.

I had insisted I come, to help, to watch his back, something- but with the heavy snow and rain, he had been adamant that it would be easier to fly alone. Though I knew it was an excuse to keep me here, safe, and unharmed, while he was out there risking his life.

And now he was missing.

Four hours of silence and I was starting to feel violently sick with worry. I contemplated leaving the cabin, trekking on foot through the forest in search of him, but with the weather so furious and the fact he had been flying not walking, I knew it would be futile.

And Rhysand would kill me if he knew I had gone after him, especially when he had specifically instructed me to stay here.

"Stupid, arrogant High Lord," I cursed under my breath and despite the log fire crackling before me and the layers I wore, I still shivered from the brutal cut of the cold wind. My heart seized at the thought of Rhys out there in the brunt of it.

Hybern soldiers were ruthless and their hatred of the Night Court, of Rhysand was known. They could do anything to him; ash arrows, Faebane, dark magic, and Mother only knows what other weapons they have we don't know about.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some kind of damsel," I scowl, my hands shaking as I yank on my discarded sword belt and daggers, "Then he is a bigger idiot than I thought possible."

I try and let my anger bubble over and overtake my fear as I make my way toward the heavy wood door, the sound of the whistling wind and perilous skies getting louder the closer I get to it. I'm trembling as I grip the handle, yanking it open with effort, the hinges stiff with the cold.

I stumble back a step at the sight of a tall male slumped against the door pane- blood pooled around his feet, stark against the white snow.

"Rhysand!"

All thoughts eddy from my head at the sight of him- his skin pale and dull, his midnight hair in disarray, his armour torn and filthy, and an agonised grimace lining his lips. A groan slips from him when my hands come to his chest, and my stomach turns at the warm blood that coats my palms.

"Cauldron, Rhys," I gasp, my throat closing as I stumble back into the cabin, his body weight half-leaning on me and every step he takes is slow and staggered, his face twisting as I guided him back with me. "What happened?"

"Hybern soldiers are assholes," Rhys grits out, a rough laugh slipping past his lips, but the sweet sound soon melts into a pained hiss when I turn so I can slam the door shut behind us- and I see why he's bleeding so goddamn much.

"Rhy- Rhys," I stutter, my fingers tightening into his suit, his muscles rippling under my touch, every breath he takes deeper and faster than the last. "The arrows, holy shit, there's so many-"

Five.

He had five arrows embedded into his back and wings.

"Really? I didn't notice," He grins, his heavy head lifting and those violet eyes meeting mine- though upon seeing the ire and worry on my face, that grin falters, "Hey, c'mon don't look at me like that, I'm alright-"

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, his eyes screwing shut when I begin to move back toward the sofa and I try not to let my body lock up when his hands fall to my waist and hips, long, ringed fingers digging into my flesh for leverage.

"Huh, I knew you wouldn't listen to me," He scoffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-breathless and my face burns with heat when he runs his hands idly down my sides, grazing pointedly over my sword belt and daggers. "You know it's an offence to disobey your High Lord, right?"

"Well since you're wounded and I'm the only one here to help," I grit out sardonically, ignoring how close his face is to mine as I guide his front down onto the sofa, careful not to touch his wings as I move behind him, "I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive me."

I frown at the amount of blood seeping out from his wounds, and I can feel how rigid his body is under my palms- he always was good at hiding his true emotions, masking his pain with an arrogant smile, or teasing words.

My breathing is shallow as I climb onto the sofa behind him, my soft thighs brushing his strong ones and my heart racing as I settle on my knees. His wings are limp on either side of him, one drooping down to the floor and the other sprawled over the cushions.

"You need to rip them out, darling," Rhys muses gently from under me and as if sensing my worry, his voice has lost all sense of humour. "No need to be gentle, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"We both know you're a big Illyrian baby, Rhys," I tease, though my voice is strained and when he shifts his head sideways, looking over his wide shoulders at me, I see the small smile tilting his lips too.

I swallow the lump in my throat, shifting forward and placing a trembling hand on his back. To the arrow embedded at the junction of his wing and spine.

His hand slips back and curls around my thigh, fingers sprawling around the flesh and digging in as if he were bracing himself. The touch is distracting but I focus on my fingers wrapping around the arrow, a few inches from the entry point- and I hate how Rhysand's body flinches at the soft touch.

"Come on, darling," Rhysand sighs, his grip tightening around my thigh as I release a long breath, "Amren's going to kill me if I get any more blood on these cushions-"

I rip it out mid-sentence- and Rhysand's whole body jolts as I tear the arrow free from his flesh, a grunt of pain muffling into the leather beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whimper, my hand clamping down and applying pressure on the wound, the arrow discarded on the floor beside us. Rhysand trembles under me, his jaw locked so tight I can hear his teeth gritting together, "Shit Rhys, I'm sorry."

"It's- it's okay, it's okay," He pants, and I watch his face from the side, seeing him get paler and paler. He squeezes against my thigh, once, twice, and his eyes blink open, those violet eyes dark. "Keep going darling, you're doing so good, keep-keep going for me."

I feel the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as I lean forward, my fingers slippery with blood and gore as I curl my hold around the second arrow, this one just barely stuck near the very bottom of the left wing.

Ash arrows were notoriously dangerous, known for splintering within the flesh, one wrong move and Rhys would have pieces of the wood stuck in his wings and those would be near impossible for me to remove on my own.

I grit my teeth and pull, swift and brazen, not giving him or me a second to think about it. Again, Rhysand grunts, body viscerally jumping but he seems to bear the pain better the second time, his thighs clenching around mine for support.

"Forget what I said, I was wrong," I clear my throat, trying to force some ease and comfort into my tone as I run my hand up the muscles of Rhysand's back and I feel relief when he sighs, his body melting into my touch. "You're not a big Illyrian baby, you're a tough, strong male."

"What finally convinced you? The very manly way my body is shaking right now?" He released a long exhale, his mouth tugging into a smile and I can't help but laugh when his eyes glance back to meet mine. "Or the groans that keep slipping out no matter how hard I try to contain them?"

I laugh softly, my blood-stained hands running across the planes of Rhysand’s shoulders and back, the pad of my thumbs and forefingers circling around the stiff muscles, trying to get him to relax. He sighs, and his hand pulls against my thigh coaxing me higher up his body, closer than before.

"Nothing wrong with being vocal, Rhys, I would have thought five hundred years of existence would have taught you that," I run my finger across the membrane of his wing, feeling the soft, leathery texture as I move to the next arrow. "Females love to hear how you feel."

"Cruel, wicked thing," Rhysand mumbled, his breath hitching at the tender touch I grazed over his wings, and it was a very different sound to before. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Having me at your mercy."

I wrap my hand around the arrow stuck in the middle of his wing and his body tenses- knowing what was waiting. I frown, hating that he is in pain and unconsciously, my left hand moves to his other wing, and he gasps, eyes widening when I run the pad of my thumb over the talon at the tip- a spot I knew was sensitive.

I tear the arrow out of the right wing with one hand, while my other rakes down the curve of his left wing, my nails scratching softly against the tender flesh there. Rhysand groans, louder this time, and it's a sound that I feel through my body.

"Are you- are you trying to make it feel better, darling?" He asks quietly, his breaths loud in the silent room and his hand at my thigh caressing, his thumb swiping soothingly back and forth.

"Yes," I reply, equally as soft, and my heart is racing as I edge closer, my core and ass settling over one of his burning hot thighs. "Is it working?"

"Yes," He swallows, an audible sound and I see his Adam's apple bobble, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as I reach for the fourth arrow. "Yes, it is, don't- don't stop." There's a slight tremor in his voice, a neediness that makes my head spin.

His body vibrates under me, but for a completely different reason now and it seems the more my idle hands wander curiously over the dancing veins and soft membranes of his wings, the less control he has over himself.

"Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?" My voice is hoarse, and I ignore the sweat coating my skin and heat burning through me as I grab around the arrow, my shoulders bracing for the strength needed for this pull.

"Why are you and Cassian talking about the most sensitive parts of a male's wings?" He grits out, his thigh muscle tensing, and I feel it brush against my centre- wet and aching with need. A smile tugs at my lips at the darkness in his tone, that smile broadening when his wing twitches violently against my fingers.

"He also said that males can like having their wings touched during sex and that a brush against the right spot can make you climax, is that true?" His nails dig into my thigh at my whispered words, a moan slipping past his lips when I grip around the talon with a firm hold.

This time when I rip the arrow free, he doesn't feel the pain- too consumed and dizzy with pleasure.

"You're killing me, Y/N," Rhys chuckles, his body shaking with the laugh, a sound that travels through the air and over my skin like a phantom touch. I circle the heel of my palms into his shoulder blades, massaging out the tension and Rhys moans appreciatively, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest.

"Only one left, Rhys," I say encouragingly, and he mutters incoherently in agreement as I lean forward, the last arrow embedded in his upper back- much deeper than the rest. I frown, rising onto my knees, already missing the strength and heat of his thigh between my legs. "This one's gone all the way through, I'm going to have to dig it out the other side."

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun," Rhys jeers, his hand grazing along my thigh as I sit up as if needing my touch as reassurance.

My eyes narrow at his remark and suddenly the blood and the arrows and his pained face hold no bearing with me, the sympathy vanishes- replaced by the anger that had me ready to march out into a storm to look for him.

"That's what happens when you go chasing the enemy with no backup," I mutter stiffly, and this time when I grab the arrow, I don't give Rhys any satisfaction or comfort- no, I break the arrow in two with an easy snap of the wrist, dropping the fragmented piece to the floor with a clink.

He winces, and when I hover above him, his head turns to look at me, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.

"I take it you're still upset with me then, darling," Rhys muses and the ting of humour in his words makes me scowl, my touch no longer soft or soothing, my body no longer enjoying the hard, perfect feel of him.

“Turn around,” I order, dismissing him as I rise from him and onto my feet. His hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, a yearning in his touch, but I move away from him stiffly. “I need to dig out the arrow from the front.”

He purses his lips at my cold words, and I almost feel bad for him when he hisses in pain, his muscular, lean body so frail as he rolls onto his back, his sore wings moving slow and deliberately, barely able to lift higher than his shoulders before sagging back down again.

“Y/N,” Rhys sighs, a deep frown tugging at his lips as he drops his head against the armrest. I stare at him in silence, seeing him splayed out before me, chest rising and falling in harsh waves and those violet constellations unwavering upon me.

"You could have been killed, Rhysand," I grit out, and I hate the tears I feel prickling my eyes as I stare at him, at the blood coating my hands, and the sofa and the floor, the wound puncturing through his left pectoral. "If you don't trust me to have your back-"

"Don't say that, never say that" He rises faster than I can protest, and my hands shoot up to stop him, but he doesn't relent, his face harsh with discomfort but his eyes burn with determination as he sits up. "I trust you more than anyone, more than myself, don't ever think that Y/N."

"Alright, okay Rhys," I sigh, shaking my head and my hands are weak as I place them on his solid shoulders, trying to guide him to lay back down. His eyes never once leave mine and I can see the hurt in them- that I would even think such a thing. "I'm sorry, just lay down, you're still hurt."

His face tightens severely, and he looks so at odds with the male known for his easy smiles and bright stary eyes- but he obliges me as I guide him back down. His hands curve up my thighs and rest on my hips, and he doesn’t speak as he yanks me down, dragging me so that I straddle his waist.

“Rhys-“ I suck in a sharp breath when he settles me, forcing my weight to sit atop him, my thighs clamped around his hips, my core settled just under his belly button and his calloused hands kneading the flesh at my sides.

"I told you to stay here because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," He whispers, eyes unbearably soft, and his touch igniting something hot in me, "If they did something to you if you got hurt... I don't know what I would do, Y/N."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I bring my hands forward to the front of his leathers, my fingers stumbling as I unbuckle the belts and slip off the buttons one by one, revealing the acres of tan skin and the dark whorls painted across his chest.

I gnaw on my cheek as I tug back the shirt, Rhysand silently watching every action, every breath I take, and my face falls at the wound leaking blood above his left pectoral, the arrowhead peeking through the gore.

“And what if something worse than this happened to you?" I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion and when my eyes meet Rhysand’s again, his face tightens at the tears in my eyes, “What do you think I would do? How would I be able to live with it?"

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhysand swallows thickly and I watch as he grits his teeth, his body pulsing when I run my fingers over the wound, gauging how deep I have to feel, how best to remove the arrow in one piece.

“I need to dig it out with my fingers to get it to the surface first,” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick prolonged silence and taut tension between us, “It’s going to hurt, badly.”

“I know,” He locks his jaw, the strong angle sharp and I see the grim anticipation on his face when I move my index finger and thumb into position over the exit point. But without speaking, I move my body, lower, until my core settles over the front of his breeches- over his long, hard length.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-“ His breath hitches at the contact, his violet eyes widening and latching onto mine in surprise.

“I want to,” I whisper, need spreading through me at the feel of him under me, the smell of his arousal and mine wafting through the air, making me dizzy. “I’m trying to make it feel better, remember?”

I roll my hips, ever so slightly, and the electricity that shocks through my clit at the contact makes me gasp. Rhysand grunts, a low, heady sound, and the way he lifts his hips up to dig his cock into me is almost desperate.

“Cauldron,” He curses as I dig my fingers into his wound, the metal sharp and hot against my fingertips as I try and get leverage around it. His face twists but when I rock my hips again, dragging down his length, his pain dissolves into something carnal. “Cauldron, Y/N-“

“There we go,” I whisper, my fingers gripping around the arrowhead firmly, twisting it a few inches higher so that it protrudes out of his chest. I bite my lip to contain any sounds as I rut against him, my underwear and trousers soaked through, seeping into Rhysand’s slacks, making it easier to rub over his twitching length. “I’ve got it!”

He moans- the most erotic, lewd sound rumbles from him, low and loud, echoing through the room. I pant as he runs his hands over my body, over my thighs and hips and waist, kneading my stomach and love handles, before settling over my ass.

His nails carve crescent moons into the flesh as he palms me, the control he was so used to wielding in the bedroom not dwindling as he guided me back and forth faster and harder against him.

"This is the best pain I've ever felt, darling," Rhysand purrs, his voice like melted chocolate against my senses and the fire burning between my legs fans at his words. I lean forward, my breasts brushing his chest and my stomach settling against his- and I run my free hand over his sprawled wings.

"I'm going to pull it out now, yeah?" I mumble against his cheek, and I know his head is spinning, the pain and pleasure so at odds, so damning that his canines flash at me, his fingers bruising against my ass and his hips jolting up violently to meet mine.

“Do it, daring,” He commands, the role of the High Lord imprinted into him no matter the situation and almost as if it were programmed in me to obey, I kiss his cheek tenderly- and yank the arrowhead free in one go. “Shit, shit-“

I drag my centre over the tip of his cock, rolling my hips in fast, sharp strokes and Rhysand crumbles at the action- his eyes screw shut, his body stills like stone, and the filthiest, rawest cry tears from his lips, louder and fragmented when I rub at the tip of his talon with my palm.

I whimper at the feel of every hard inch of him cemented against me, the warmth of his hot seed leaking out and soaking his slacks, mixing our arousals, getting messier the more I rub against him.

“Y/N,” He moans my name into the crook of my neck, his teeth scraping against my pule point and his hands curling around my ass, forcing my hips to stop. Instead, he clamps my body flush to his, my tits pressed to his chest, my face buried in his soft hair, and I feel his cock pulsing and tremoring hard against me as he rides out his orgasm.

I feel Rhysand laugh roughly against my neck, the sound of his ragged breathing and the erratic rise and fall of his muscular chest against me making me sigh. His hands don’t loosen, in fact, they get tighter, guiding me until I’m laying flat, his arms wrapping over me and keeping me to his chest.

He was holding me like he didn’t want to let go.

There’s a long silence as I lay with him, our bodies melting together and his touch unrelenting upon me, holding onto my flesh for dear life, feeling me against him and sighing at the comfort. His breathing starts to deepen, turning heavy and I blink, shifting to move my weight off him.

“Don’t,” He grumbles, his arms drawing me back to his chest, a deep groan escaping him as he shifts so that my body slips between the gap of the sofa and his side. His eyes flutter closed again, and I watch his face ease into serenity as I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

A/N:

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

Should I make a part two??? part two here

[amelizscribbles]

OK, EXPLAINING DABIS SCARRING because @good-lord-not-books asked

*note these are just my hcs and some medical research

I'm putting this under a cut because it's long as hell, and I apologize in advance for any typos or if it's confusing. I have no problem explaining further♡

His scars are hypertrophic. which 1) explains the discoloration. It's what happens when the smaller blood vessels become partially or fully obstructed with scar tissue. They typcially start off pinkish or light red. (like when he woke up from his coma.)

Typically the treatment for this is laser removal. But if you don't have access the color may naturally shift with age/as it natueally heals. But with continuous damage to the areas.. the scar will get darker as the veins and tissue is further injured (the deeper into the skin and possible muscle it damages)

most hyrpertophic scarring can take a year + to heal. but obviously Dabi just keeps making his worse. The scars themselves are cause by the body over producing collagen for wound healing and not actually being able to break all of it down.

Which leaves collagen fibers in the skin to harden and thicken. Hardened skin doesn't allow much give, lessening the skins elasticity over all. Which can be shown in the way his unscarred skin pulls along the edges where the dermal rings line said scars. (my thoughts on his staples acrually being dermal rings will be at the end)

That's not even going into the nerve damage systemically for him considering hes covered in that kind of scar. So when he says he can't feel a thing it's literal as the nerve endings are shot to shit. And that is only going into skin deep level.

Interal organ nerve damage is a whole other mess due to the scaringbeing from burns. As severe enough burns cause systemic damage. (will also go into atfer the scarring part)

His skin looks TIGHT on him. If he did have and semblance of sensation in his nerves it might feel like hella tight/dry skin. Also I think hypertrophic scars are an inflammation response to the body healing.

His body is literally misshapen from it. (and yes we love him the way he is) You can see in panels where the skin is probably softer where there's lack of muscle definition but can see where it's tighter or pulling over his arms/ shoulders/ribcage because the skins elasticity is non-existent. The instances where it's sifter looking is probably due to his body trying to retain as much body fat it can to keep healthy (or as healthy as it's going to get in his state.)

As far as it going right up to his lower lids and having zero tear ducts. that man has chronic dry eye like it's nobodies business. so itchy and possibly bleeding eyes isn't a shock. he probably has several counts of grand larceny in artificial tears alone.

Ok so as for his scaring being from burns, burns affect the whole body and how it works depending on the severity.

It can effect muscle tissue/muscle mass, bone structure and interior organs.

Given he seems to be perpetually giving himself 3rd degree + burns .. his respiratory system and cardiovascular system are probably shot to shit. Just from smoke inhalation and perpetual injury. (hypertrophic scars fill the veins with scar tissue remember) Assuming how deep the burn and scar tissue goes.

But we haven't seen him with much breathing issues so I'm assuming it's whatever. He has mentioned motion sickness and we've even seen him turning down food. So I can at least go into it's affects on his GI tract.

In the GI tract, burns can result in increased gastric secretions, reduced intestinal motility, decreased nutrient absorption, increased GI mucosal permeability, bacterial translocation and increased intra-abdominal pressure. If it's bad enough he may have ulcers or gi hemorrhaging. Severe burns also cause liver and intestinal damage.

The fact that he's been alive this long is wild if he's been homeless this whole time and just committing small crimes to not die. One thing that irritates me is when people think he would be incredibly unhygienic due to the scars and such.

Like do you understand how CLEAN you have to keep burn injuries to keep them from getting infected?? Even if it's layered over already damaged and scarred skin. He might smell like burnt flesh but I doubt he's letting wounds fester.

Yes he could probably just cauterize himself but that's still just burning burn wounds. Especially with 0% health insurance. I always assumed he kept breaking into the Todoroki family home when he knew no one would be there to do basic things to make sure he didn't die on the street over the years.

Quick add on to my thoughts on his staples just being dermal rings to homd his skin together/as a form of human Kinstugi.

They (the rings) are pretty rounded in the manga, surgical staples aren't nearly that large either so I always assumed human Kinstugi regardless of metal color (between manga gold or anime silver) and it was both decorative and necessary for his skin.

I just assumed wherever the rings weren't, it was just spots he couldn't reach.

it's also shown in the manga that he's adjusting/adding more along his scars.

als, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the term Kintsugi, it's this

Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, lit. 'golden joinery'), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The method is similar to the maki-e technique. Its the Japanese philosophy that the value of an object is not in its beauty, but in its imperfections, and that these imperfections are something to celebrate, not hide.

which I think suits his character very well when his piercings and dermal rings are gold looking in some of the colored manga art.

ok, I'll shut up now, ♡

[heartfullofleeches]

Letters from You

Yan T.V Show Cast + Clown Reader Snippet

-

Tap....Tap...Knock.....Tap...Tap...Knock

Hm, usually that always does the trick. The strangled hics and sobs beyond the other side of the door depress any chance of your playful banter getting through to the poor jester. On brighter days, she'd hear the secret knock you two came up with together and dry her tears enough to finish things off. Whatever got her upset today was really dragging her down....

"She's been like that all morning, Sunny...." Gus chimes in. The clown has been worried sick about his sibling as presented by the stormy clouds replacing the smiling suns beneath their eyelids. "Not even Holly has been able to get through to her... You're our last hope, Sun..."

"I'll try my best." Pressing your ear to the door, you strike your knuckles against the door - careful not to cause the jester more duress. "Melan? It's Sunday, do you want to talk? We'll leave you alone if you need space, but we all just want to make sure you're okay...."

Through whimpers and sobs, a small, quivering voice bleeds through.

"M...my letter.... I can't go anywhere without my letter! They promised.... They promised to write to me everyday...."

Oh, no... Placing your hand on your pants pocket, your fingers trace out the rectangular shape within the fold. How could you forget something so important to her?

You pull the crumpled envelope from your pocket, smoothing out its corners as you speak up. "Melan! I have that letter from your penpal. Handyman must've given it to me by mistake. I'll read it out loud for you, got it?"

You open the letter up as the sniffling stops almost entirely.

"Dear Melan,

Hey there, Melan! How's my favorite jester doing today? I got the drawings you sent with your last letter. I'll hang them up in my room soon as I have the chance. Ice cream is one my favorite desserts too. Maybe we can have some together someday. If not, have an extra bowl in my honor!

Are you taking care of yourself and your siblings? How's your practice going? I heard you can juggle two pins without dropping them now, I'm so proud of you! You're getting better and better everyday - that's why you're my favorite jester.

Lots of love, your dear penpal - Y/n."

The room on the other side of the door goes dead quiet.

"Melan?...."

A creak in the floorboards - followed by another. They continue until -click- the door unlocks.

"Th... thank you, Sunday... I'll be out in a minute. I'm sorry for worrying you...."

[uwukillmenowowo]

Hi! I saw that you wrote Cookie Run Kingdom and I LOVED the story Curiosity! When you have time, maybe you can continue it? And take your time, no need to rush! ✨✨💙🩵💙🩵:3

IVE HAD TO REWRITE THIS FOUR WHOLE TIMES BECAUSE IT NEVER SAVED!

HOLY FUCK I'M ACTUALLY MAD NOW BECAUSE I HAVE TO KEEP CHANGING STORYLINES SINCE I CAN'T REMMEBER THEM

(ง╥̃ ⏥╥̃)ง

Curiosity Pt. 2

[PLATONIC]

(Parent! Elder Fairie Cookie X Reader X Parental! Beast Cookies)

(Slight White Lily X Reader)

Notes:

Reader will be Non-binary

After the battle, you started questioning not only yourself. But your father too

I kinda didn't know what I was doing here so sorry if it's short lol

;w;

How did the beasts know you? Did your father know? how come you didn't? Why can't you remember what happened during your childhood?

{Second POV}

~~~~~

You were extremely happy for White Lily when your father threw a celebration party for her. The other Faeries who didn't accept her before, accepted her now. Her party so far was going great.

But after the first three months you started feeling... off...

This wasn't like the other times. Normally you would be by either your father's side or the side of whoever the party was for.

But after the battle, you just couldn't shake that strange feeling of remembrance. You don't remember ever meeting the beasts. So how they know your name is.... quite concerning.

Did your father know about this? What about the other Faerie Cookies?

Going off on your own, you walked and walked until you were at the entrance of the kingdom. You knew that leaving a party without telling anyone is disrespectful but you just need the alone time.

Walking out of the kingdom, you made your way a bit further from the kingdom. You just couldn't shake your thoughts off the fight.

The beasts knew your name and said that your voice was familiar. How they knew you, you have no clue. You were scared, nervous, concerned.

Too many emotions at once.

You walked and walked until you made it to the 'Misty Peaks' as your Father called it. He said that it used to be the home of one of the beasts before they perished.

You used to come here a lot as a kid. The height of the peaks granted me a full view of the kingdom, but since it was normally pretty far, you would only come here once every now and again.

You made it to the top of the peaks and took a seat. Taking a breath of the high altitude air, you started to feel at peace.

Yet at the same time... A hint of familiarity... You've never felt this the last time you were here. So what's different..?

You felt a chill run down your spine as you looked around. Only to see no one there. You tried to go back down, but suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by mist. You panicked and tried to run downwards, but it only ended up with you tripping and falling the rest of the way down the mountain.

Meanwhile, from behind her seal, the former Wheat Cookie of Volition tisked in frustration. She was saving the power (Unlike Shadow Milk Cookie) that slowly seeped out for that moment. Now it was wasted.

Back to you, who groaned heavily. Your dough landed on a sharp crystal rock and now you started bleeding. You gasped in pain before you started to use your magic to heal yourself.

Yes, you knew magic. One time you fell into the river when trying to look at the pixies, you scrapped your knee on the riverbed and your father was worried sick. He made you learn healing magic so that you don't have to endue pain for so long.

Slowly, you felt your dough getting better and crispier. You sighed in relief and started to head home.

When you got back, you saw that everyone was just as lively for White Lily's party as when you left. No one had practically realized that you had left in the first place.

All excpet one.

You were hanging by the silver tree, gazing at it and the vines that blocked the seal. "[Reader] Cookie? Is everything okay?" You flinched and turned around. "W-White Lily Cookie! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be partying?" "Eheh~ I could say the same to you" White Lily giggled and you could feel your dough warming up.

"So... what's up?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck. "Well. Everyone is warming up to me now. But it's already been a few months. I'm kind of shocked that parties last so long." White Lily stood by my side as we both gazed downwards into the clear river below. "Yeah. We do love our parties." I chuckled.

White Lily and I then just started to talk about the party and how we were getting tired of the loudness.

'Perhaps it was better to ignore that for now. The party is for White Lily.' You thought ignorantly as continued to talk with the cookie beside you.

Meanwhile, the beasts from beyond the seal glared at White Lily Cookie. Ignorance may be bliss but this was unprecedented. Especially for you.

The beasts glared harder at White Lily Cookie. They needed to get you away from her. So that you can remember your life with them. You don't belong with them! You're one of the beasts! it's no fair that those... faeries... can keep al of you to themselves.

They lost you once.

They won't lose you again...

My train of thought went "Bye Bye" Mario style

Soo I'm kinda just not- feeling the motivation rn

T_T

[luveline]

I have a potential request for the eddie zombie!AU! could I request eddie taking shy!reader under his wing as he is traveling? maybe she is injured and is like 100% sure she’s going to die but then eddie comes along like a knight and helps her to safety, and then they just stick together?

thank you for your request angel! —eddie finds you wounded in the midst of the apocalypse and wants to help, 2.5k, fem!reader. tw for zombie apocalypse typical circumstance, blood and injury

Eddie is absolutely sick of being alone. He imagined the apocalypse cooler than it turned out to be —there aren't that many people around anymore and he's constantly a bit hungry, and having long hair is now the norm. He hasn't seen a real living human being in three weeks and he's starting to wonder (worry) if he's the last man on Earth. 

That is, until he sees blood on the sidewalk outside of a pizza place. He'd been planning on going inside just to smell the floury scent of pizza dough, and maybe pretend to answer the phone (he never worked as a delivery guy, but he thinks it might've been his calling). Blood is everywhere in the apocalypse. Genuinely everywhere, and it smells bad when it's old, vinegary and acrid. There's blood on car doors, bloody handprints on windows, pools of it where people died and then their bodies, reanimated and without control, stood and walked off again. 

So Eddie's gotten good at blood. He knows old blood from new blood when he sees it, dead blood from alive blood, and the blood trail leading behind the smashed glass door of the pizza place is both new and alive. Or, probably alive. Was alive. He nudges it with his shoe, and it's still wet, not even slightly clotted. 

Definitely alive. 

Eddie doesn't really think about how whoever it is that's inside could murder him in cold blood for his gear. Eddie's sort of stacked —he has a bike, a proper one like a professional doing the Tour De French, or whatever, he doesn't remember what it's called, would need. The point is that he has a really sturdy bike and a wagon strapped behind it full of camping shit, and the world is so desolate that nobody's tried to shank him for it yet. He leaves his bike by the door and tries to open the door slowly, not wanting to startle whoever it is that's bleeding that badly into hiding from him and his extensive first aid kit. 

Eddie pulls it to his chest and steps carefully over a path of broken glass. 

"Hey," he calls out. He clears his throat. "Is someone here? I– listen, I'm not here to hurt you, I saw the blood, and I have bandages and antiseptic and everything you need. Maybe. Unless you got shot, I can't do stitches for shit, trust me." Trust the weird huge scar on his ankle. 

"Listen," he continues, approaching the counter, peering behind it at a skyscraper of pizza boxes and a dust covered floor, "I know you have no reason to trust me, so I'm gonna go sit outside, and if you want to come out where I can't corner you, I'll help. I swear." 

He follows the trail of blood to the cabinet under the ingredients counter. The door moves near imperceptibly.

He gives it a second, and then Eddie turns to leave.

"Wait," says a girl's voice, muffled and weak, "wait, please." 

Eddie waits, spinning on his heel to watch as you push open the cabinet door. 

He's surprised at the cleanliness of your top half until he realises the bottom of you might as well have been dipped in an exploded blood bank. 

"Oh, shit," he says, rushing forward. 

You flinch back and he follows on unperturbed, even when you throw your hands up to cover your face. 

"I'm not gonna do anything," he promises, panicked, "where are you bleeding? You'll have to show me." He makes sure you can see his lack of weapons and his huge green first aid kit. 

"It's my side," you say, and as soon as you speak you start to cry, little shuddering huffs of pain escaping you as Eddie kneels at your side. "I– I– I tried to climb over a fence, and I got caught on the barbed wire, I didn't– I don't–" 

He shushes you with as much gentleness as he possesses and pulls up your shirt. It's your hip, not your side, and the cut is a frankly gruesome laceration into the fat. Eddie's going to have to sew you up after all. 

He knows what he should do even if he's only done it once before, finding your blood covered hand on instinct and squeezing it. "It's okay," he says, not knowing if it will be, "I can fix it. I have everything, okay? Can I fix it?" 

"Please," you whimper. 

He doesn't need any pleading. He clicks open the first aid kit and looks first for gauze, pressing it to your side even as blood pools wet and shiny on the floor beneath you. You're in agony, clearly, twisting away from his touch. 

"Please stay still," he says, firm but kind. "It'll hurt more the more you move. I have painkillers, and I'll give you some right now. Right now, okay? Stay still." 

You shriek as he presses down on your hip but you don't move. He hates having hooked a sound like that from you —Eddie's not a violent person, even if he's rough around the edges— and he rushes to correct it. He swaps the soaked gauze for a second, pressing down hard again, and remembers with a white hot panic that he didn't disinfect his hands. 

It's rough going. He finds the painkillers, you take them dry. He has the urge to touch your cheek because you're in so much pain, and the blood has somehow ended up on your face like a crimson tear. Eddie disinfects his hand and your hip, which still hurts wildly untouched by the painkillers, and opens a sterile packaging of needle and medical thread. His hands shake as he ties the thread with tweezers. It's imperative he doesn't touch the needle, even if he did disinfect his hands, because it will end up deep in your skin. 

By the time he's ready to start the stitches you're crying and not speaking, a hand pressed to your mouth. "I don't know how much the painkillers have worked, and I don't think they'll stop this from hurting, but I think I have to stitch it before you lose too much blood. Is that okay? Can I start?" he asks. 

You nod hurriedly. "Just– Don't– Just ignore me if I ask you to stop," you say weakly. 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood as strongly as he smells it. 

He stitches your wound closed. It's a jagged wound shaped like an italicised 'y', and he does it as carefully as he can manage, even if the amount of blood pouring from it scares him. He doesn't want to do it wrong and have the stitches rip, or cause more pain than they need too. 

He never wants to hear someone make the sounds you make ever again. When he tells you it's alright, that you don't have to bite them back, you start to sob with each string he tugs. He can't imagine how fiery the pain is. 

When it's done, he disinfects your hip again generously. He must not do a bad job at stitching you up, because while the wound weeps blood into the disinfectant like dye seeping into fabric, it's ten times slower. You look down at your hip, hiccup, and look away. There's blood everywhere, so Eddie pulls you by the underarms across the floor and sits you up. You're still crying, sobbing, but you don't say anything. Eddie wipes away as much blood as he can. Then he covers your newly stitched wound with a fresh, thick square of gauze and tapes it. Finally, he wraps bandages around your waist to keep everything in place, and to apply pressure to the wound. 

He looks at your clammy face with a mixture of pity and newfound pride. He doesn't know who you are, but you did a damn good job.

"Well done," he says, rubbing the lengths of your arms quickly, like a hug without closing in on you. "You did awesome. I'm gonna run outside to get my stuff, I have a shirt that should fit you, and some pants. Water, food. I have whatever you need." 

"A tranquilliser?" you ask. 

"Maybe not one of those."

Eddie retrieves his bike and his wagon, carting them into the kitchen, through your blood trail, and into the staff room behind you. It's snug but there's a couch, and that's all that matters. He shoves the bike aside and runs back to your side, crouching. You look like you're gonna pass out.

"Hey," he says, "can I lift you up?" 

"It's gonna hurt," you say. 

"Yeah, but there's a couch in there, and a door that locks, I don't want us to get attacked while we can't move." 

"Are you going to attack me?" you ask, looking like you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

He shakes his head quickly. "No. I promise." 

A promise from someone you don't know isn't worth much, but you take it, and Eddie helps you up and into the staff room. Your crying wanes. Maybe the painkillers are working, or maybe you've run out of steam. Acclimatised to the pain. 

Eddie stops before he gets to the couch. "No funny business, I'm gonna take off your pants." 

"It's okay, whatever," you gasp out. "Sit me down." 

Eddie unbuttons your jeans and you kick them off the best that you can. Your legs are streaked with blood too, but at least you can sit down without absolutely ruining the couch you'll be sleeping on for the next few days. Eddie locks the door, grabs the clothes shears, and cuts off your top. You really do look at him then, your eyes wide with fear, and he backs away from you with his hands up. 

"Sorry," he says, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to scare you. You've been holding your elbow, I thought maybe you hurt that too, didn't want you to lift your arm."

Your fear ebbs with his explanation. He grabs clothes from his wagon, ears piqued when you speak up. "I think I've broken it."

"Your arm?" he asks. That's an entirely different problem. It could be painful for the rest of your life.

"My elbow. It's swollen." 

"I'll give you more painkillers," he says assuringly. 

He grabs the shirt that looks like it'll fit you and a pair of pants that will be too big. He doesn't know why he has all this stuff that doesn't fit him, he kinda thought they were cool. And who could abandon a Dio t-shirt when no one will ever make one ever again?

"Do you need help?" he asks. 

You sigh regretfully. "I don't think I really have a choice."

"You do. We could throw a blanket over you? Two blankets, even." 

"Please help me put on the t-shirt," you say. 

He doesn't resent you at all for sounding untrusting, even if he did potentially save your life a few minutes ago. People are cruel and will do the worst thing they can do to another person if they want to. He helps you into the t-shirt. You flinch when you straighten out your arm, but it goes on well. Next he helps you into the cargo pants that are luckily a starchy but flexible cotton. You wince as they reach your hip. He lets them lie low. 

He makes sure there's a pillow behind your head, laying his favourite blanket over you and tucking you in amicably. 

Pulling his hair out of his face, Eddie laments how sweaty he is and eyes the wagon for what best to feed you with. You're probably nauseous from pain, so while he'd love to feed you hearty oxtail soup or a can of meatballs that promise protein, he grabs a box of crackers, a tin of vegetable soup that he knows from experience is watery and sad, and his big flask of water. 

He sits down a half a foot from you on the couch. 

"Here," Eddie says, opening the crackers. "You should eat something, please. And drink some water, too." 

You accept everything silently, though after a few morose chews of saltine you murmur, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Really welcome." 

"You didn't have to help me," you say, shivering with pain still but looking less like you’re going to pass out now you’ve stopped bleeding profusely.

He looks down at his hands, blood in the grooves of his palms, and shrugs. "Yeah, I did." 

"Most people wouldn't, though." 

"I don't think there's a precedent for what people do anymore. You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"You're lucky." 

"Yeah?" He tucks his hair behind his shoulder. "I guess I am." 

You eat another cracker, and then you stick out your hand very tentatively. "I'm Y/N. Thank you for saving me." 

He shakes your hand with the same tentativeness.

"I'm Eddie," he says with a smile. "You're welcome." 

"I thought I was gonna die in the cabinet," you say, rubbing your eyes, "like a sick dog. I just wanted to be alone while it happened." 

It's a very solemn thing to admit to, and in the quiet of the room, your face and hands dull with blood, it's macabre.

"Sorry I didn't let you die," he says, trying not to laugh in shock. 

You visibly fluster, your embarrassment held tightly in the set of your shoulders and your frenetic hand as you rub your collar. "I didn't want to die. I don't want to." 

"Then you won't," Eddie says, knowing it's not that simple, but needing to persuade the agony from your face. 

You look down at your lap. Eddie searches for something to offer, something he can give now that you're lucid enough to know you were in the shit. It's terrifying business, knowing you could've died. 

"I have a bottle of Black Coconut rum if you're interested. I thought it might come in handy lighting fires, but I think you could use it," Eddie offers. 

"Yes," you say, your voice small. "I think so too." 

"If we had some pineapple juice, I would love to make you a Piña Colada. Now that would cheer you up." 

"Rum is fine, please." 

Eddie doesn't let you suffer. He gets up to grab the rum and passes it to you. You drink it in surprisingly eager glugs, rum running down your neck in shiny rivulets like shooting stars plummeting through a vermillion sky. He needs to help you clean the blood from your throat and face before it dries. 

You shudder and pass the rum bottle back to him, looking sicker than sick. "That wasn't bad," you say, eyes squeezed closed. You sound like you've been punched. 

Eddie hoots a laugh. He really missed having good company. 

—

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated, and if you have a request for this au let me know, I’d love to write more of their story!! <3

[lloyd-007]

Summary:

Spider Socorro gets shot instead of Neteyam. But he lives, part 1. @ele-sme from what we were talking about. Also sorry for any miss spelling or grammar.

Spider didn't remember jumping into the sea, one second he was at the bay escaping with Neteyam and Lo'ak when one of the avatars failed his gun towards them, Spider remembers the adrenaline kicking in at the moment when he saw Lyles egg-headed ass firing at his bro- friends his friends. Spider forgot everything in that split second, everything happened so quickly yet so slowly. Spider still feels how his heart tightened when Lyle shot at the with no mercy in his eyes. During the months Spider spent with them in the forest Spider thought that he managed to at least get to know him, the others and his clone dad but now he can see it was all a sick evil lie.

He'd never gotten to know the true them, they had lied to him, just like everyone else. A horrified expression appeared on his face, Spider's eyes widened his mouth shot open as he yelled at them to get out. Then... nothing. Nothing comes to his mind.

Spider was now all alone. Or so he thought.

His mind was very vague but every few minutes he'll catch something, like a glimpse of someone or hear voices- no. Crying. Yes crying. Slowly his mind focused on his surroundings, he was laying down on something hard. It was cold, very cold. Spider swore it felt like spikes. His breathing clenched while his senses came back for just a second. His eyes open a bit. His face instantly became distorted from it.

"SPIDER! Hold on oh shit shit-" he knows that voice, suddenly a massive hand, bigger than his face cradles his head. Spider hissed back in pain due to the action.

"Fuck! They used one of their big guns! NO' Oh fuck-"

More scenes came back at that moment. Someone else was there- no a few more people were there.

" Dad, please tell me he's gonna make it! Oh great Mother oh no". Kiri. That was kiri. Spider looked up at her, his vision clears up enough to see her eyes all teary and scrunched up, her mouth was trembling. Her hand was over his wound trying to stop the bleeding, while another one, Neteyam was there his hands were trembling. His face was nothing like he's ever seen before, his once brother was frantic just like kiri. He was numbing little "nos" to himself while fat tears fell from his eyes which were full of regret. Spider didn't manage to hear much of what he was saying but he did her one thing.

" oh please great mother, I'm sorry I'm sorry for being a bad brother just please don't take him".

"LET ME GO- MAMA LET ME GO!".

He didn't need to look up to see who was yelling he recognises that voice anywhere.

"Lo'ak please-"

"NO, THEY NEED TO PAY LET ME GO- I"

Spider couldn't focus on what he was saying next. His breathing suddenly became faster, more raspy. His eyes shot open, Kiri sprung into action her face leaning down while her hands tried to cover his wound. Neteyam jumped in as well. His hands stroked his left hand. He didn't realise it before but Jake was talking to him. Spider didn't notice him before, he didn't even notice he was right in Infront of him. It was his hand on his cheek, gently stroking it, whispering to him.

"Hay! Look at me! Okay?! Your gonna be alright ! Everything is fine, we're gonna call norm and he'll have you all better in no time and..".

Spider knew he was lying. He watched as Jake struggled to say anything. Jake looked away for a moment, guilt covering his face. Spider felt his breathing tighten at that moment, his eyes were beginning to close them. Spider squeezed Neteyams hands and he squeezed them back.

" I want to go home" was all he could say. Jake looked back at him. His eyes were teary.

"yeah, yeah of course kid. We'll take you home."

Spider didn't remember what happened next when his vision became blurred, his head was spinning, everyone around him became fuzzy, and his world began to turn black. Spider didn't want to go, he didn't want to leave, unfortunately, now he has no choice. As his world slowly crumbles into the dark endless void he looked up past Jakes alert eyes into the sky his ears vaguely picking up what they were saying.

“ Spider!-“

His eyes closed.

me after traumatising Spider again^^

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: It's your first period living with Yves and you're kinda avoiding him in his own house because you're in pain and nauseous and you think he's gonna think you're gross because he's a boy. And it's a bad period, like you won't eat anything and there's a lot of blood and all you can do is lie in bed and be in pain. But eventually you allow Yves to give you a bath and take care of you.

Tw: afab anatomy, period,

(btw I did an ask about period and Yves before this)

(1308 words)

"Dear?"

Laying in a fetal position on your bed and buried under your sheets, you could barely hear Yves's muffled voice calling for you from outside your room. Although you've been dating Yves for a while now, even moving in with him earlier this month, you're uncomfortable with sharing a bedroom with him. So, he allows you to sleep in the guest room until you're ready to sleep in the same bed as your boyfriend.

You felt the world around you spin, spin, spin until you couldn't tell if your feet were facing the end of your bed or the headboard. Unlike your unfortunately soiled sheets and your pants, you were green in the face with nausea.

A couple of knocks reached your ears. "I'm coming in."

Well, that's fair. You have sent him away multiple times today, turned down every meal and refused to open your door in fear of him discovering such a shameful secret: you menstruate every month.

It wasn't a secret to him, though. Before even moving in, he had already told you where he kept his menstrual pads, making you ask him why he owns such things when he is biologically a male. Yves merely replied he had prepared them for you.

He doesn't hold tampons, as he actively discourages you from using them. Yves said it has a higher chance of you going into toxic shock. However, you shied away from the conversation before it could get too detailed, what does he know? He never had to deal with horrible mood swings, severe cramps or bleeding orifices ever in his life, or does he?

Either way, you think that it's embarrassing to be this vulnerable to him. But you're too weak and battered by your own body to keep him out. You just remembered that you had forgotten to lock the door too.

A tall shadow cast upon your cocooned self as Yves towered over you. He sat by the edge of your bed, elegantly crossing his slender legs as he brought a cool hand up to the side of your face. Yves caressed you, massaging your temple. He said nothing and neither did you.

He is sitting quite near to your bloodied stain, but Yves is yet to glance at it. This made your face heat up in humiliation. You squeezed your eyes shut and hid under your comforter again, wanting nothing but to disappear at the moment. You wanted the nausea to end, you wanted the headache to end, you wanted--

You opened your eyes when you suddenly felt the strong urge to vomit all over the floor dramatically lessened. Likewise, with your throbbing headache, there is still a dull pain, but it was such a tremendous improvement compared to a few minutes ago. What changed?

Since the pain has been lifted and you can think much clearly now, you realized Yves is applying a considerable amount of pressure against two specific spots using his thumbs; your right temple and your inner wrist.

You looked up at him and asked him what he did.

"These are acupuncture points to alleviate migraines and nausea." He replied, slowly removing his fingers away from you. They returned to his lap, where they're folded neatly, he's sporting a neutral look on his face. Perhaps you could detect a bit of disappointment and upset in those stunning emerald eyes.

You thanked him, but told him to please leave you alone. Fully expecting him to get up and leave, you flopped back down onto your bed.

However, your headache and sickness began to return. Thinking you could do the acupuncture massage yourself, you dug your finger nails into the areas where you thought he touched. It didn't work and it began flooding back to a maddening degree.

Groaning and whimpering, you desperately tried to make them stop but to no avail. Only when Yves had his hands on you again did it calm down.

He gave you a minute to recuperate before talking.

"You haven't eaten all day." He commented, releasing his hold on you. "You're avoiding me." Yves was aloof, although his last sentence was an observation, you had a strong suspicion that he's actually demanding to know why. He has yet to notice the massive, scarlet stain next to him. Maybe you should tell him, at least he wouldn't get himself dirty.

You meekly pointed out that your blood is seeping through the white sheets.

"Of course, it is. You haven't been to the bathroom for hours." His voice was quiet, but it took on a more scolding tone. Yves didn't care to spare a glance at the growing patch.

"You wouldn't let me take care of you." Yves continued, now sounding more sorrowful.

You became defensive, saying that Yves is going to find you gross. Going on an embarrassment-fueled tangent about how it's horrible to have to go through this every month and he probably wouldn't understand. Yves cut you off by firmly calling your name.

"You are describing a version of me that only exists in your mind." He stared straight into your soul unblinkingly.

You let his words sink in, realizing that you're projecting onto Yves and being an ass. You remembered that he was open to discussing how he could provide the best possible care for you when you're on your period, mentioning that he would gladly hand wash any delicate article of bloodied clothing if he has to. It was you who steered clear away from the topic because it was too awkward for you to bear. But it never was for Yves, it came so naturally to him.

He reminded you of your period cycle, he prepared the hot water bottle that's been sitting on your nightstand stand, he prepared a fresh change of underwear with the pad perfectly placed on it but you shooed him away before you could accept them.

Hell, he even offered to escort you to the bathroom and help you freshen yourself up as if you're paralyzed from the neck down. Obviously you declined and may have lashed out at him for that.

And so, you apologized. With tears in your eyes as your hormones run rampant. You said you're ashamed and unsure what to do.

Yves interrupted your pity fest with a tight hug that lasted for a good while, allowing you to wordlessly sob against his shoulder.

"You shouldn't be ashamed. It is a natural bodily process that billions have to go through on a regular basis." He whispered, stroking your hair as you continued letting your emotions out. "You shouldn't be ashamed to receive my help either. I enjoy taking care of the one I love, very much."

Yves gave you a kiss on the forehead. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and watched you with softened eyes.

Through your hiccups, you told Yves that your blood is ruining his clothes. You wondered if this is an abnormal amount of viscera to be expelling.

"Then, shall I run the bath for you? It will help with your pain as well." He asked, you're amazed at how gentle he would always be with you.

You nodded, making him smile in satisfaction.

"Good. Stay here, you are not in a condition to move on your own."

You nodded once more, he kissed you on the cheek in gratitude before standing up. You felt guilt pang through your heart when you saw that his clothes are already egregiously stained with red from you.

It's such a shame that you're still too disoriented to realize that this is one of the rare times when he would wear white.

Only if you didn't cover the blanket over your head, you would have seen a glimpse of Yves toggling a remote controller. Switching off his specialized, hidden speakers.

Maybe that was why this was the most nauseating and painful cycle.

[historicalvandal]

*gasp!* You do requests?! Oooh, get ready to have me swamp your inbox. Sorry in advance 😆

What are your thoughts, headcannons, everything about koba slowly (500k slow burn, enemies to friends to something???? lol) getting used to *cough* catching feeling *cough* for a human Ceaser brought into the colony, and said human got interested quickly with koba and kinda bugs him like a cat.

💚- anon

I do I do!! :D I'm excited about having requests open rn- you are practically my first requester lmfaooo- So thank you sm! :DDD <333 My thoughts first off - To start off I think it'd make such a sweet but also soul crushing fanfiction, and I would thrive writing that lmao- But thoughts on it, my thoughts about how the relationship would start is somewhat obvious, Reader follows him around like a cat all the damn time, and Caesar does nothing to stop it because maybe this is a chance for Koba to learn that not all humans have such a harsh hand that they can be gentle, they can care, and Koba is just so peeved about that- Why should he have to teach the stupid human how to integrate into ape society? Why does Caesar think that this job is well suited for him out of all the apes? I think somewhere down the line, possibly after a bad hunting trip when he's gotten himself hurt, when reader has to drag him back to the colony or they have to hide it out because it's raining too hard and they're too far from the colony, forcing them to be in close proximity, he has this feeling that he can relax because Reader asks if they can tend his wounds, is gentle with him once he gives permission, because obviously he doesn't want to deal with getting an infection if reader knows how to tend wounds with what they have on hand, possibly learning how to heal someone through the insistence of maybe Maurice or because they spend time with the healers to begin with when they first entered the colony, nearing like the antithesis of him having dreams about Reader, how they looked drenched right through, shivering and freezing, droplets of water running down their smooth and soft looking skin, but not a care for if they'd get sick because Koba is hurt, he dreams about how they looked at him, how their bottom lip jutted out in concentration as they gently ran whatever dry piece of their clothing they used to quell the bleeding from his wounds, he'd dream about reader a lot I mean in my thoughts yk? Some headcanons for a fanfic like this ; - Koba is less then gentle, he's downright mean toward reader in the beginning, because he hates humans but also because he believes they don't belong, but mainly because reader just won't leave him alone! - Something more softer when they begin to get close, Koba starts to feel as if he can trust Reader, so he asks Caesar if their nest can be closer to his, and he goes to reader to tend his wounds, more then happy to sit in silence as Reader gently tends to him, as if they are his mate. - Further down the line, when he finally realises he has feelings, Koba would try and listen to what Caesar tells him to do- Leading to Koba gift giving but not being able to say out loud that he has these feelings. - If Reader and Koba are together, they become a mated pair, he's the type to be jealous if any male ape tries to speak in any other manner other then in passing, still it makes him jealous. - Reader is the only one who gets to touch Koba as much as she wants. not even Caesar is allowed to touch him unless it's a friendly pat on the back, Koba would be addicted to how gentle Reader is with him. - Reader would be the type to tell Koba about human romantic traditions, so he's taken to calling their hunting trips together a date, mans does not understand why that made Reader all giddy but it has made him crack a small smile once or twice. - Koba can and will die for his mate, but would prefer killing for Reader instead, he's there at Readers beck and call, it is readers name he whispers at night, and Reader who whispers his name at night, he is Readers and Reader is his. - He is also just very loyal in my opinion, would not look at anyone else in any way other then kindly. I hope these are all alright, i've never written much like this before but I'm excited to see the reactions I garner from this!

[majorbuckyegan]

I was tagged by @nicijones tysm 🫶 (I know its Thursday oops lmao)

Rule: share a snippet of your current WIP (or one of them) and tag other writers to spread the love.

Posting a snippet from their last fight, because I'm not loving the part I'm writing rn (gotta write the bad thing and then rewrite it!)

“John, what exactly is your problem?” He asked, when John still hadn't said anything.

“You! You're my fucking problem.” John snapped, letting out another angry bark of laughter, “You're doing that thing that you always do when I say I'm fine, and then you go and smother me anyway. I told you I don't need your help, so just fuck off and leave me alone for once in your life.”

“You know what? Fine.” He snapped, standing up so that he could take the porcelain shards that he'd already gathered and throw them into the bin. Ordinarily, the sound of breaking glass would have upset him even further, but he was angry too now, and so he couldn't have cared less about that, “You want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone, but don't come crying to me when you can't patch yourself up properly. Go bleed all over the bedroom for all I care.”

“You know what, Buck? Go fuck yourself.” John huffed, tossing the shards of the broken plate that he was still holding into the sink, “Jesus Christ, I feel like I can't breathe around you sometimes without you pulling the whole Saint Cleven act.”

He shut his mouth with a click, refusing to let himself say something that he'd only regret afterwards. He doesn't mean it, he's just having a bad day. Telling himself that didn't exactly help the situation, though, and so he really wasn't sure what he was supposed to say or do.

“You can't fix everything, Buck.” John continued, obviously refusing to be put off by his silence, “I don't give a fuck if you think I'm some broken little pet project for you to fix, ‘cause you feel guilty for leaving me.”

“Is that what you think?” He asked, refusing to acknowledge the prickling of tears in his eyes, “Fine, if you're really that sick of me, then just say the word and I'll be gone. You won't have to put up with Saint Cleven anymore, if it bothers you that much.”

the girls are fightinggggg 👀 bucky will feel bad and apologise though, I promise

Tagging: @buckbiddick @alienoresimagines @moghraidhs @hogans-heroes

@swifty-fox @ackackh @c-goldthorn

@joeyalohadream @spaceshipkat @whirlpool-blogs @amiserableseriesofevents

[siriustaylorsversion]

stop. you're losing me.

Regulus Black x reader

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't."

warnings- angst, you're losing me lyrics (they can break your heart)

author's note:- i wrote this listening to you're losing me and cried, so.. enjoy <3

You say, "I don't understand", and I say, "I know you don't" We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won't Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

In the dimly lit attic of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, you spent hours rummaging through a dusty old trunk, your fingers delicately tracing over aged parchment and forgotten relics.

The air was thick with the scent of history and neglect, but amidst the debris, you found a yellowed envelope, sealed with a wax stamp bearing the Black family crest. Intrigued, you carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter within.

As you read the contents, your heart sank with each word. It was a letter from Regulus' parents, commanding their son to prove his loyalty to the family by entering into an arranged marriage. The reason was starkly clear: Regulus's elder brother, Sirius, had been disowned for defying the family's pure-blood ideology.

Consumed by a mix of anger, sorrow, and a burgeoning sense of determination, you sought out Regulus in the darkened corridors of the ancestral home. You found him standing by a window, the moon casting haunting shadows across his troubled face.

"Regulus," you began, your voice trembling with emotion, "is this true? Are you really going to marry someone you don't love, just to fulfill your family's twisted expectations?"

Regulus turned to face you, "Where did you find that?" his expression pained yet resigned. "You shouldn't be involved in this."

"You're getting married?" you ask. "I'm not sure right now." He replies. "You're not sure? You're not sure about leaving me?"

"I can't argue about this with you, how can I make this decision?"

"Shouldn't be involved in your marriage? Why can't it be me, Regulus?" you implored, tears brimming in your eyes. "Why can't I be the one to stand by your side?"

Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

Regulus hesitated, his eyes betraying a conflict within. "You... There's already someone chosen for me. And besides, this marriage is important for the war against Voldemort. It's not about love, it's about survival."

Your heart shattered at his words, the realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. With a trembling voice, you whispered, "I can't do this, Regulus. I can't watch you marry someone else while I stand by and pretend it doesn't hurt."

He reached out to you, a plea in his eyes. "Please don't go. I'm sorry, truly I am. But there are things at play here that you can't understand."

"I wouldn't marry me either." You say, finally breaking his heart into a thousand pieces, just like he did to you.

But you couldn't bear to listen any longer. With a heavy heart, you turned and fled, leaving Regulus standing alone in the darkness.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me

In the days that followed, you found yourself wrestling with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, there was the undeniable pain of witnessing the man you cared for sacrificing his happiness for the sake of duty. Conversely, you were going through the worst heartbreak of your life. You were the only one there who heard him out and stayed with him when he got the dark mark and now all you wanted to do was go up to him and shake him until he wakes up and realises what he's doing.

And so, with a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by the burden of unspoken truths, you made the painful decision to walk away. It was a choice born not out of weakness, but out of a deep-seated belief that some sacrifices were too great to bear, and some battles too futile to fight.

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing) To believe Unless you're choosin' me"

As you watched from a distance, the days slipped by in a haze of regret and longing. You saw Regulus's forced smiles and hollow laughter, the facade of duty and honour masking the turmoil within. And with each passing day, a part of you mourned the loss of what could have been, the love that might have blossomed if only given the chance to take root and grow.

I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore.

finally wrote after a long time, let me know how it is <33

[atlasscrumpit]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Don't Be So Blind

(dealing with sexism and SA) 

You came back from a press meeting and sat on the couch, placing your head on your hands.

"Doll, it's okay. These things don't always go to plan. I get hate all the time." He said as you groaned and looked at him.

"You get hate because you killed people, I get hate because I was born with a fucking vagina. I am so sick of this." You grumbled as Bucky sat beside you.

"You don't get it... I know you would always do your best to understand it, but you can't understand what I have to go through. With Nat it's different you know? Well for starters she doesn't have a period cause she has no uterus but she's pretty and sexy so no one bothers her. But, me... I'm not like that so people always have something to say about it." You muttered as Bucky gently rubbed your back.

"I think I get four days a month where I'm okay, and that is it. It's always ovulation, or periods or bloating, pain, bleeding, moods, hormones... There is so much I have to fucking deal with. Yet, I still do all the same training and missions as all of you guys. Everything is so much fucking harder for women, and what do we get? Hate and sexism. Sometimes I don't blame Wanda for going evil." You muttered as Bucky looked at you in shock.

"Y/N, don't say stuff like that." He said as you chuckled dryly.

"Can you fucking blame her? You killed so many people! And you got let off with a fucking slap on the wrist. Wanda controlled a few people and they wanted to burn her at the fucking stake!" You shouted as you stood up and began to pace.

"Buck, I get it, okay? You've been through hell, with Hydra and everything. You were hated because of something you did, but I am hated because I was born. I just need to fucking get this out because I am so sick of it!" You shouted, grabbing a vase and throwing it a wall.

"The constant comments from people, fucking kills me." You grumbled, sitting back down.

"You just need to not listen to it." He said as you laughed and shook your head.

"Buck, I've been fucking try to not listen since I was three years old. The first time someone fucking sexualised me." You replied, harshly.

"I get that it's hard, Y/N. But, it's hard for all of us. I mean, Peggy rose through the ranks and she never had episodes like this." He said as you slowly turned to face him.

"Because she would've been fucking fired, or killed, or fucking raped if she spoke up. Sometimes I forget when you were fucking born." You growl standing up before Bucky grabbed your wrist.

"You know I've been sexually abused too? It's not just women." He said before you slapped him hard across the face.

"Shut the fuck up! Oh my god, Bucky. I fucking know okay? And I am here for you one hundred percent, but the only time you bring up your assault is to fucking silence me! The only time you bring it up is when I talk about sexism. I'm sick of it, just leave me alone before I fucking stab you." You growled storming away and getting in the elevator.

Steve entered and looked at Bucky.

"I heard some of that..." Steve muttered as Bucky kicked the coffee table in anger.

"She's fucking infuriating!" Bucky said before he sat down.

Steve sighed and sat across from him.

"Bucky, Y/N sat down, upset and tried to explain how she felt and you basically invalidated her and told her she shouldn't be upset. How is that supposed to be good for her?" Steve asked as Bucky looked at him, still seething.

"Women were never like this, back in the day. They were fine, happy even." Bucky said making Steve groan and rub his head.

"Bucky... You need to take off the rose coloured glasses. The time we lived in was horrible. I saw first hand what Peggy went through. The countless abuses and assaults. I saw what my mother went through. Buck, they didn't have a choice and if they dared speak up their entire life was ruined. When Y/N talks about this stuff she isn't blaming you for being a man, she is asking for understanding and maybe some protection." Steve explained as Bucky sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Have I really been that blind?" Bucky muttered as Steve chuckled softly.

"Yeah, Buck. You've been very blind to all of this. We all get paid from Shield to keep up this superhero work, Y/N and Natasha were getting a lot less then all of us. And they still do from shield, but Tony uses his own money to close that gap. Did you know Natasha tried to make super hero suits specifically designed for women's bodies and shield said no? Do you even see what happens at these press meetings? Did you see the man grope Y/N? Did you hear the man who called her a slut?" He asked as Bucky looked at him in confusion.

"What...? Did that happen?" He asked making Steve sigh and shake his head.

"Yes, Bucky it happens all the time. The public barely accepts Sam as a superhero because he isn't white. There is a lot of work to do and you need to help." Steve said as Bucky nodded a little.

"Fucking hell... I've been such a dumbass." He grumbled before he got up to chase after you.

He found you up on the roof crying, you turned around and shook your head.

"Just fucking leave me alone." You muttered through your tears as Bucky gently hugged you.

"Fuck, I am so sorry Y/N. Steve spoke to me and I saw it from another perspective. I haven't even noticed the stuff you go through, I'm such an idiot." He whispered as you slowly cuddled into him.

"I've been really fucking blind, doll. And I am so sorry. I'm kind of glad I was blind at the meeting today otherwise I would've killed every man in there." He joked as you laughed softly.

"I want to learn about all of this. I'll do my best to understand it all, okay?" He said as you nodded a little.

"I just want you on my side." You whispered in response as he kissed your forehead.

"I'll always be on your side, I just need to do a better job."

[poppadom0912]

Hi! You have so many good Chicago stories! I had an idea for a Will Halstead fic, if you'd be interested... OC/Reader is a nurse at Med, she and Will are a (newish?) couple. She has been sick or hurt, but isn't telling Will, to avoid worrying him - Sharon (or someone) has been on his ass, for something he didn't do of course, but he's been under a microscope, so she doesn't want to bother or distract him - until she passes out or ends up in an OR (depending on the illness/injury) and he finds out after the fact... Heavy on the angst is always good ;)

A/N: I'm a sucker for angst. Hope this is good enough. I tried researching as accurately as possible but there might be inaccuracies.

I'm posting this is celebration of not failing my exams which means no resitting! I didn't get the high grades I wanted but we move on. Enjoy!! Hope this is good enough.

Warnings: Canon-typical injuries, blood, angst w a happy ending, surgery

*****

Becoming a nurse was inevitable for you because it was the next best thing after a doctor and you didn't want to go through all those extra years of learning and debt.

You were born with a congenital heart defect as a result of your mother poorly caring for her diabetes during pregnancy. All your life, your parents had been on top of your health, always dragging you to specialists and making sure you were still taking your meds.

You moved states several years ago and now you weren't constantly reminded of the defect you were born with.

There were times though when you did get forgetful and Will never complained about your bad trait that you couldn't handle, he shrugged it off and made sure your health was one hundred percent.

Your relationship was in the honeymoon phase, six months in you were both decently comfortable. Everyone was aware of your relationship but you both agreed to keep work at work and home at home.

Recently, Will was under extra scrutiny from Sharon because of a small incident that happened in the ED when his brother rolled up bleeding from his shoulder. No one could blame him for his reaction, it was completely justified but that hospital were being asses and wouldn't let go.

Following this, your interactions at work decreased at your suggestion to make things a little easier for him. And at first, it was working but then it just got straight up frustrating.

All of a sudden, following the intense summer heatwave, everyone's workload doubled and your hours never lined up. You'd be leaving and he'd be preparing for his second double shift of the week.

And things only got worse from there. You were so busy because of the nurse shortages that your priorities began shifting, your health dwindling down the list.

But no one needed to know that.

*****

Week One

"And that's me done, you ready to break?" Will asked, setting aside the tablet on the desk. You both took your breaks together as much as you could, any time you could get together you would take.

"Yes I am." You nodded, slipping your hand into his as you began walking out of the ED. "I remember someone promising coffee from the cart outside."

Will chuckled, rolling his eyes at the reminder of the expensive coffee sitting outside that you loved. Just as he was going to reply, Maggie shouting your name stopped him.

Sighing, your heart felt heavy both figuratively and literally. With a sheepish smile, you pecked him on the cheek with a promise to catch him later on during shift.

Not being able to get a word in, Will simply watched you scurry off to help the next incoming patient, leaving him to change directions towards the cafeteria.

*****

Week two

You should've been more attentive but being short of breath after a run wasn't uncommon. It was early morning and Will's side of the bed was empty so you took what used to be a daily run alone.

As the day progressed, you started feeling tired and your fatigue progressed. It should've been the first sign to you that you needed to slow down and take care of yourself but the next shooting in Chicago just couldn't wait.

"Y/N, are you okay?" April asked, standing besides you with a new file in hand. "You look pale."

"I'm fine." You assured her, nodding as you licked your drying lips. "And before you ask, Will doesn't know and doesn't need to be interrupted, he has a patient in the ICU."

April backed away apprehensively, always trying to check up with you whenever time permitted. Maybe she was also to blame for not being more forceful with her concerns.

It wasn't her fault that she forgot you had a heart disease.

*****

Week three

"I love you so much." You muttered against his forehead before stepping away to leave the dark bedroom.

Will stirred slightly at the contact, shifting under the covers and further messing up his curls you so badly wanted to delve your fingers into but you were on a time crunch.

Just as you were leaving the room, your chest clenched, pain suddenly overtaking you. Clutching onto the door frame, your grip slacked and your bag dropped causing Will to wake up.

"What's wrong?" Will asked in his half awake state, completely disheveled. He was blinking the sleep away while he turned to you and tried to see what was wrong but failed due to severe sleep deprivation.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He continued, voice hoarse like it usually was after a deep sleep

For some reason, you struggled to form words, your chest feeling as though it was being stabbed repeatedly.

And for some reason, you couldn't come up with a logical excuse and you stupidly left without a word to your lover.

*****

Week four

You couldn't ignore it anymore.

It felt like your body was starting to give up on you. You were constantly tired and out of breath and the chest pains never let up, at times, they even doubled and felt worse than the worst of your period cramps.

The biggest flashing red warning sign should've been when you fainted in the bathroom after your shower.

You came home shattered from your 24 hour shift. Just as you walked in the door, Will was leaving for his 48 hour shift. At this point, you really felt like the world was against you.

You were kinda like roommates more than romantic partners. You were barely at home together and at work, you tried to keep interactions to a minimum after the small incident that the board was elevating ridiculously.

Waking up on the bathroom rug, your body felt numb almost paralysed. It was like what movies described comas to be but your chest was still pulsating in pain.

You weren't being a really good nurse because you simply got up, drank some water and ate some food before sleeping it off.

*****

Week five

The silence was suffocating.

The two of you finally got more than two minutes together but words somehow failed you.

With droopy eyes and furrowed brows, your hands itched to grab the blue scrubs covering your chest. If it wasn't for your boyfriend sitting opposite you, you would've been hunched over the sinks in the women's room.

"What's wrong?" It was a question but with that tone, it felt more like a demand. His two words hit you hard, your eyes dragging from the table up to his big brown eyes filled with nothing but eternal love and concern. "And don't say nothing cause that's clearly bullshit."

And for some reason, you flinched.

Licking your chapped lips, you scrunched your eyes closed at the pain encasing your heart. Despite being back on your medication, the pain didn't cease.

"Y/N? Baby-"

"CODE SILVER. CODE SILVER IN THE ED."

*****

Today

For the past week, Will was hypervigilant about his work. Peter kalmik was never his biggest fan so it didn't help he was constantly making his presence known along with the more power holding board members.

You hated how he no longer fought his case and he just conformed, keeping his head buried in the sand and distanced himself from those he cared about.

It got to such a point that when Jay came in with only work intentions, Will physically forced himself to stay well away.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you neglected your medication on the kitchen counter.

The pain today all of a sudden increased tenfold in the middle of shift. You were helping Doris turn over a treatment room, listening as she talked about her family drama that you loved to hear about when you felt the world come to an abrupt stop.

Before you knew it, breath escaped you and darkness enveloped you.

“Y/N?!” Doris shouted, going around the bed and crouching down besides your unconscious body.

As she started checking your pulse and your breathing, Connor ran in with Maggie in tow having witnessed you fall from the nurses desk.

In a flurry of rushed movements, you were placed on a bed as your friends searched for the cause of your unconscious state. Out of the blue, Maggie spoke up, reminding everyone of your heart condition.

Equipped with the new but old information, the cardiothoracic surgeon was now more than confident he was able to help you.

"Whose her emergency contact? Is it still her parents or has it been changed to Will?" Connor asked the charge nurse as they started wheeling the gurney towards the elevators. They needed to get you into surgery as soon as possible before you deteriorated.

"Good question."

"Page him anyways."

"Already on it."

*****

"I'm a horrible boyfriend."

"No you're not."

"All the signs were there and I missed them."

"We did too."

"I know Connor is one of the best but what if-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." Maggie cut him off, looking at him sternly, eerily resembling the face of a mother telling off her child. "This is no ones fault and you know that, stop punishing yourself for something no one could control."

Will opened his mouth to interject but stopped himself when Maggie held her hand up. "Yes, maybe Y/N should've taken better care of herself but as a doctor, you know that this surgery was inevitable anyways."

"It's better that she was already in the hospital and not home alone where no one would've noticed till you finished in another eight hours." Maggie continued, being more gentle as she got her point across. She was just as concerned but for everyone else's sake, she could be their pillar.

"Look at her Will." Maggie said, gently rubbing him on the back, hopefully bringing him some comfort. "She's in the best hands."

And of course Will knew that, he wouldn't say it to Connor's face but the man was a heck of a surgeon. There was no one else he would want operating on you but he was simply unnerved to no end.

He couldn't wipe off this icky feeling he had. It lurked around him like a shadow and stuck to him like a stain. He felt like a failure - he was unable to help you as both a doctor and a boyfriend - what good was he?

News spread of your collapse around the hospital and as an automatic response, the hospital board stepped metres away from Will, almost like he was sick with a deathly contagious disease.

It was so stupid that it was funny.

Will wanted to rip his hair out. How he was even standing watching your surgery was beyond him right now. He felt sick to his stomach at the sight of your chest cracked open, your heart just there for the world to see.

He never felt so useless before.

*****

Waking up was one of the most confusing scenarios you've ever been in. The last thing you remembered was being in the ED with Doris before blinking and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in recovery.

Your body felt like the heaviest gym weights were sat on you. Your mouth unbelievably dry as your eyes squinted in the dim lighting, trying to look around the room for any sign of life.

And right by your bedside, sleeping in a very awkward position was the man you considered the love of your life.

It must've been the movement of your head, you literally turning your head less than 90 degrees that woke him up because without any further prompting, Will was no longer dead to the world.

Instantly, he was alive and alert, no trace of sleep anywhere on his face as he made eye contact with you.

He felt as light as a feather to see you awake, the biggest weight being lifted off his chest from the relief that nothing went wrong despite knowing Connor made no mistake at all.

"Pulmonary valve stenosis." Was the first thing Will said, easily recognising the confusion painting your face. "Connor put in a balloon. They'll keep you for probably a week to monitor you to see if you need a valvotomy."

You hummed, letting him know that you understood everything he told you without talking. Somehow, without even looking at him, he knew and brought forth a cup with a straw in, holding it to your mouth allowing you to sip easily.

"I'm so sorry Y/N." Will said earnestly, his eyes shimmering as he intertwined your fingers with his. "I wasn't paying enough attention to you otherwise-"

"Stop." You interrupted him, voice still slightly hoarse from not using it. "Blaming yourself helps no one."

"What's done is done." You continued, squeezing his hands when he squeezed yours first. "I'm really the one to blame. If I took care of myself and did something when I first was having problems then we wouldn't be here."

Silence followed, the only sound being the constant beeping from all the machines attached to you.

"Never faint on me again, you hear me?"

"Can't promise you that babes."

"Yes you can."

"You're hilarious Will."

"No, I'm being serious Y/N."

"Don't make me laugh, where's Connor Rhodes, my favourite doctor?"

"Very funny, I think I'll buy April expensive cart coffee next time."

[duskier]

We all know and love ex boyfriend Simon who just can't accept that you're broken up, now hear me out- that trope but the reader is just as toxic.

cw sadistic/mean reader, cheating, reader/nameless character smut but no reader/Ghost smut, brief mention of violence against Ghost but its like two lines

Maybe you're a military member yourself in a different squad, traveling about the world and kicking ass on your own. Love yourself a good fling here and there, you hate being tied down. Nothing worse than someone clingy, attached, at home expecting something from you after a long day when all you want to do during leave is drink and sleep and take long hot showers.

But something about Simon wriggled itself in the back of your mind long ago, growing worse ever since he had the nerve to deny your break up speech. You can't get him out of there, as much as you try. Makes you fucking hate him, makes anger roll in your stomach at the mere thought of him. Smelling someone smoking the same brand of cigarettes as him alone has you on edge.

You want to beat the audacity out of him, get him on the ground and make him fucking apologize for living inside your head like he belonged there. You touch yourself thinking about him sobbing, speech slurred by how swollen his bleeding lips are as he begs for you. You cum thinking about using him as a toy- he is a toy, nothing more, he couldn't be anything more, you dumped him after all--

You decide to punish him. Every hookup you have, you start showing Simon proof- the only texts you ever send to him, his normal polite messages ignored. He decides you're still dating? Bet seeing you cheat would rile him up then, maybe make him finally get sick of you and fuck off- both in your head and in real life. It started off simple, bite marks and hickeys right where Simon knows you like it, courtesy of a gentleman in Tokyo. Next, just a sliver of skin around your hips, nothing explicit he could get off to but enough for Simon to see the finger shaped bruises in your soft skin, left by a gorgeous woman who's perfume permeated your hotel for days after. Next time you're less kind, a photo taken in the mirror of your legs spread open, pussy glistening and dripping with some stranger's cum. That one had Simon trying to call you seconds after the little 'read' notification popped up and you couldn't help but laugh as you let it ring. Even when you were together you had never let Simon do that to you.

When even the photos got boring to you, and they still didn't stop Simon from sending you sappy photos and texts (who still sends good morning texts? Are we in high school? Grow up,) you decided to escalate again. Your newest hookup was enthusiastic about the idea when you presented it to him, and he proudly took a video from his point of view while fucking you from the back. You didn't force any noises, this guy was good enough to have you sounding like a whore on his own. You wouldn't remember his name to save your life, but you'd never forget his dick.

"F-f-fuck, that's it baby, so much better than-" Your own moan cut off your line, you'd planned to say it specifically because you wanted it to hurt but just the thought of how it would really tear Simon open had you clenching down harder on your partner's cock. Fucking thing was splitting you open, wet slapping noises echoing in the hotel room you'd booked for the night.

Surprise overtook you as your partner grabbed you by the throat with his spare hand, his thumb forcing you to crane your neck awkwardly to the side. Better view for the camera, sick bastard.

"Better than who, doll? C'mon, say it nice and loud for the camera now."

"Christ, fuck, so much better than Simon! Fucking l-loser can't even get it through his head I dumped him six months ago- ohh don't stop I'm so fuckin close--"

-and your partner cuts the video off there, dropping your phone to the mattress in favor of gripping both hands on your hips, fingertips digging in for purchase as he picks up his pace. You gleefully snatch the phone, your text to Simon undoubtedly filled with typos from how hard you were being pounded.

"Can't even wait to send it? Fucking slut."

A keening sound came from your throat as you watched the video's upload progression bar. "Just shut up and keep going, ahh- still so close--"