prompts are very much open

okay, full disclosure! not exactly a Queen blog anymore but I don’t wanna stop writing, so feel free to send me prompts (or ships I guess) for any of the fandoms I’m in!

[queenborhapreaderships]

Of course the second I decide to start season 4 of The Boys, ao3 is down. That tracks! I decided to scratch the itch I’d blindly write some Billy/Hughie angst and SOMEHOW managed to find a semblance of a plot. So if I keep it up, I’ll have an angsty Billy-centric fic coming out soon! Yay! Writing!

[queenborhapreaderships]

Do you have any writing advice for character relationships? I love how you wrote all your dynamics, you make them feel so natural and authentic!

First of all! Everyone go follow my friend @karmas-mistress!!!!! 

Second of all, I’ve been thinking about this ask for a while actually because I honestly I don’t know?? I’ve been trying to find an artsy way of saying it, but the root of it is that I’ve really got no clue. 

Most of the time, I’ll have a tiny rough outline in my mind of where I want to go with a fic, but sometimes I’ll just start writing, winging it all. And that’s a big thing? When you’ve got no ideas or no plan, I think it’s important to write anyway. Just get something out, it can be edited and connected later, but not if there isn’t anything there to edit. It’s kinda a process of having to get rid of your inner perfectionist? Because I think most of the time perfection is impossible, and quite frankly, boring. 

I also have pretty bad ADHD, and when I was in high school I would highkey project onto all of my favorite fictional characters and shows (in a super unhealthy way, but it’s good now, growth!) to escape reality, so I feel like I’ve almost been mentally living in a lot of these universes for a while? Which isn’t super helpful, but I think, in a way, that’s an important aspect? Not ignoring the entirety of the world-building and dynamics already built by the creators, but instead adding on top of it? If that makes sense? 

I don’t know how helpful this really was, but I appreciate the ask and all of your kind words always!!! 

[queenborhapreaderships]

Masterlist

Hey guys! Thought I’d make a masterlist before I lose everything. Until I lose the masterlist, just you wait. ANYWAY!

The Witcher 

Geralt/Reader

~Promise - “ You and Geralt have been traveling together for ages and you have a system down. You’re a powerful witch, so you can definitely hold your own. Geralt knows this. Or at least you thought he did. When he puts himself in harm’s way for you, quite frankly, it pisses you off. You confront him and certain feelings you’ve both been hiding creep their way to the light. In an overly complex fashion, because it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier/Reader

~The Beginning - “Prompt fill for: “Hello there :) I wanted to ask if you would write Jaskier x reader. The reader is a Witcheress and she travels with Jaskier (and occasionaly Geralt). One day some peasants talk shit About her and Jaskier stays up for her, saying more About his feelings than he intented to? :) thank you and sorry for my English”

~Revelations - “This was a request for jealous Jaskier/Reader but it kinda turned more into insecure Jaskier/reader, but there’s some jealousy elements in there as well! Jas and the reader grew up together, inseparable. When Geralt joins the picture, Jaskier is worried he’s holding Y/N back and tries to back off. Y/N has to set him straight!”

~Prompt Fill for “ heard you were looking for prints ! how about a jaskier/reader (male or gender neutral) where jaskier is songwriting or practicing while the reader is painting and it’s like cute as hell ? “

More Gen Type Stuff (family dynamics, etc…)

~Shit Happens - “This was a request for protective dad Geralt! I added some friendship with Ciri in there as well <3″

~Prompt Fill for “hey for your witcher proments how about somebody from our world (like peter parker smart but quirky type of personality) gets teleported into the witchers world and shenanigans ensue or something like that. Also love your stuff, keep writing, look forward for the next one!!!!! ;))))”

Sherlock

Sherlock/Reader

~Particularly Human - “Prompt fill for - ‘Would you be okay with doing a Sherlock thing where reader is really really close to him, could be romantic but doesn’t need to be if you don’t want to, and perhaps they get kidnapped (and tortured if you’re up for it??? Perhaps Sherlock can watch from a livestream the kidnapper is doing?) could be a happy ending if you wanna! I’m just here for that gud angst 😈’”

Queen/Borhap Cast

Ben Hardy/Reader

~how dare you? - “Prompt fill for ‘ Hey :) could you do a headcanon about Ben cheating on reader?’ It started as a headcanon then turned into an entireass fic. Love that.”

Rami Malek/Reader

~Prompt Fill for “ How about expecting a baby with Rami and having your first baby” Full disclosure, I entirely forgot I wrote this, it’s pretty short but fluffy as hell. 

~rekindling the flame - “You’re the daughter of Jim Hutton, so growing up was a roller coaster. With Freddie as practically a second father, things were never boring. But time passed and things changed. Everything changed. Not knowing how to process any of your past, you flee to the states in an attempt to write music and find yourself. It pretty much turns into instant isolation! That all changes when you get a call from your Uncle Bri about a movie being made on Freddie. Secrets come to light and you just might find yourself falling in love with the boy with the beautiful eyes along the way.” I abandoned this fic when I faded out of the Queen/Borhap fandom and I Am So Sorry. 

Doctor Who

Eleventh Doctor/Reader

~That’s That - “The Tardis takes a bit of a tumble and you bang your head up pretty bad. Cue a very worried Doctor. He takes care of you which causes certain… things to come to light.”

~Safe - “The Doctor is furious. You risked your life again and he just won’t have that. He can’t have another death on his hands, but is that all? Is there more to why he’s so mad? Spoiler alert. Yes. Yes, there is.”

Merlin

Merlin/Arthur/Reader

~We Were Written in the Stars, but the Universe is a Shit Author - “You’ve been looking for your soulmates for your entire life, ridiculed and taunted for having two soul marks. Finally, when you’ve decided it’s just not worth it anymore, your soulmates decide to come out of the shadows. Now everything’s supposed to be perfect, right? That’s how soulmates work, right? Well. You definitely learn that lesson the hard way. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and situations (no actual suicide though)”

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon/Reader (with a hint of Negan/Reader)

~Wherever Loyalty Lies - “ When Rick’s group abandons you after you’re hurt, Negan’s men find you in the woods and take you back to The Sanctuary. Negan takes a very special interest in you. You’re more or less his favorite. How do you adapt to this new life while still trying to make sense of your past one? What happens when you come face to face with your family that left you all alone?” Oh god, this was my first fic. It’s like three years old by now. Pls don’t judge me. I tried. 

Also! Feel free to keep up with me on AO3, I post most of my shit there too <3 Please lemme know if any of the links aren’t working! 

[queenborhapreaderships]

Updated as of 4/19/20

[queenborhapreaderships]

Wherever Loyalty Lies

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Ship: Daryl Dixon/Reader (with a hint of Negan/Reader)

Word Count: 4.9k

AO3 link

Description: “When Rick’s group abandons you after you’re hurt, Negan’s men find you in the woods and take you back to The Sanctuary. Negan takes a very special interest in you. You're more or less his favorite. How do you adapt to this new life while still trying to make sense of your past one? What happens when you come face to face with your family that left you all alone?”

***

“Rick!” you cry out in pain and grasp at your side, trying to find and apply pressure to where the bullet ripped into your skin. “Daryl! Glenn!” You call desperately, crawling towards where you last saw your group disappear into the trees in an attempt to flee the massive herd of walkers right behind you. You finally find the wound and squeeze, flinching at the pain it causes.

Glenn didn’t mean to hit you, he really didn’t. It was a normal supply run. Until it wasn’t. You were all out gathering provisions and trying to find food to supplement Alexandria’s ever-dwindling supply. When you heard the groans, you all thought that you could take them because there weren’t too many walkers. Nothing you hadn’t taken out before. Unfortunately though, those initial walkers were only a small taste of what was to come. Once the real body of the hoard appeared from the trees, it became evident that there was no fighting them, their numbers were overwhelming. Daryl nailed a few in the head while Rick and Glenn shot at anything too close for comfort.

As you were all running away from the growing threat, you tripped on your own feet, stumbling and letting out a yelp in surprise. Glenn could only assume you were being attacked, so he whipped around and fired, striking you right below your ribcage. You were in too much of a daze to see what happened next, beyond your supposed family completely ditching you in favor of the shelter of trees.

A groan snaps you back to reality, although you’re unsure if it came from you or the walker right behind you.

“Shit” You mutter under your breath, attempting to stand up to find safety. After a grueling five seconds, you hobble to the dilapidated gas station that rests beside you. You hope that maybe if you can find the bathrooms, you can wait it out and try to find your way back to Alexandria and ask what the fuck happened. Within seconds, you find them and slam the door shut, collapsing down behind it.

You hiss in pain as you begin to examine the damage done. Realizing the bleeding must be stopped if you want to survive another night, you slowly reach up and start unhooking your arms from your favorite sports bra. You shimmy it down your abdomen, in hopes that the pressure it provides is enough to tide you over until the hoard clears. You remind yourself, your chances of coming out of this alive are highest if you stay awake, but you can’t seem to help your eyelids drifting shut.

You awake suddenly to the sound of voices and heavy footsteps. The hoard must’ve cleared, but how long were you out? You look down at your makeshift bandage, and to be honest, it’s not looking very good. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl must not have come looking for you. You frown and try to stand up to avoid being trapped in, but you’re instantly dizzy and collapse back down in a heap. “Must be the blood loss,” you murmur to yourself. Unfortunately, your failed attempt at a graceful exit brought the attention of the men stomping around over to you.

“Hey, Dwight, did you hear that? Get your ass over here.” a voice calls out. You hold your breath, knowing people these days are rarely a good thing. Especially in groups. The footsteps grow louder and you shrink away into a stall, hoping to avoid being spotted. Your feet disappear from sight just as the door the bathroom is kicked open.

“Probably just a raccoon or something,” a gruff voice replies.

“I don’t know, man, I could’ve sworn I heard something bigger” The men stalk further into the room. Someone begins kicking the stalls open and your heart drops. This is it, this is the end, you think to yourself. After all this time, everything you’ve been through, everyone you’ve met. You’re gonna die, bloody and alone because your family left you for dead. When they reach you, it’ll all be over. Not even taken out by a walker, which is ironic after everything you’ve been through. Eventually, they reach your stall and kick it open, just like the rest.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” one of the men chuckles to himself. He’s got long blonde hair and he looks like something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. The man by his side is shorter but looks just as strange with a bushy mustache resting upon his face. Mustache man reaches to pull out his gun, but Tim Burton character stops him.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Simon, don’t you think the boss would like to take a look at her?” So mustache man is Simon, which means Tim Burton character must be Dwight.

“Yeah, we need all the brownie points we can get” Simon snorts as he steps forward grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you out of the stall. You bite back a groan as a surge of pain shoots through your side. The men don’t seem to care.

“Oh come on, you pussy, there are doctors where we’re taking you. You’ll be fine,” Dwight says, but for some reason, his words aren’t exactly the most reassuring thing in the world. You stumble along, remaining in Simon’s grip the whole time. Once you get outside, he flings you carelessly into the back of their truck and once again, you can’t help but slip into a blood loss-induced sleep.

~~~

You awake with a start, shooting up in what appears to be a hospital bed? That doesn’t make sense. You look from left to right frantically, trying to gather your bearings. Then the events of the past 5 hours hit you like a load of bricks and you lie back down slowly, pulling at your arms that you now realize are cuffed to the side of the bed.

“Nice of you to finally join the land of the living” calls a voice from the other side of the room. The irony of this statement isn’t lost on you. “Now I’m sure you’re confused as to where you are, what’s going on, so on and so forth. Answers will come soon enough, my dear. All you need to know now is that you are alive and you will continue to be so if we change your bandage routinely” You glance down at where your bra was once your lifeline. It has been replaced with a real bandage and what you assume to be a few stitches underneath.

“I... uh… thank you?” you stutter out, breathlessly, still trying to process what exactly is happening.

“You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” he says almost wistfully, coming in closer to inspect your face, brushing a few locks out of your line of vision. “There aren’t many of you left in this world, especially not here”

“Where is here?” you press on cautiously

“Your new home” he answers. Well, that’s not vague, you think to yourself. You shake your arm, rattling the cuffs.

“A little help here, maybe?” you ask, a small shimmer of hope still in your voice despite your meek circumstances.

“I would if I could, but I’m not the one calling the shots”

“Who is?”

“Negan” and with that, the strange man walks out the door.

~~~

After a few weeks, well, to be honest, you weren’t sure how long it had been. After what felt like a few weeks of living out of the hospital room via the doctor, you’ve finally regained almost all functionality the bullet took away from you. The doctor walks in and gives you a smile, that looks partially like a grimace. You wonder what’s up.

“So it seems you've recovered enough to meet the man upstairs,” the doctor says, almost cynically. After all this time, you’d actually grown rather close with him, being your only human interaction and all. Of course, you were annoyed that you were being held against your will, but in all reality, you couldn't complain. You were being fed well and regularly, but you also couldn't help but be extremely curious as to why this group took you under their wing when you had nothing to offer in return. You snort and think to yourself, this must be what Stockholm Syndrome feels like.

All the alone time you had left you only with your thoughts. You couldn’t help the anger, confusion, and hurt bubbling up inside you whenever you thought about how your so-called friends left you for dead. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding, right? Well, whether that be the case or not, it doesn’t change the fact that they left you and didn’t even check back up to see if you survived. If they don’t need you anymore, you don’t need them.

“Ahhh, so I finally get to meet the infamous Negan?” you ask, but before the doctor has a chance to respond, the door flies open and a booming voice echoes throughout the room.

“Now is the (y/n) that I’ve been hearing so much about? Let me tell you, you are, in fact, just as stunning as I’ve heard” you were too flustered to respond. There’s something… off about this guy, you think to yourself. Something that may be contributing to that feeling is the large baseball bat he’s carrying that’s covered in what appears to be… barbed wire? What the fuck? “What? Cat got your tongue?” he asks, encouraging you to speak up. You swallow the lump in your throat and try your best to sound confident.

“No, it’s just finally nice to meet the man behind the madness. I mean that in the best way possible, of course” you laugh, backpedaling from a statement that could be perceived negatively. “I really appreciate you taking me in and all, I don’t know how I could ever make it up to you,” you say, humble in front of this man who basically prevented your death, multiple times. He was intimidating, yes, but that isn’t to say he’s not surprisingly attractive.

“I could think of one or two ways,” he says, raising his eyebrows, leaning in, and winking at you. You can feel a blush rise upon your cheeks. Really? This man is hitting on you? He could have anyone in this camp, being the leader and all, and he’s coming on you? Something doesn’t add up. You really want to know where this is going, so you decide to play along.

“Ohh, and how’s that?” you say, in your best seductive voice, although it might be a little rusty from underuse considering it’s only the motherfucking apocalypse and all. You don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into, but getting in close with the leader is never a bad thing, is it? Negan whips around and points the bat at the doctor.

“Would you give us a minute alone please?” Enunciating every syllable, as if his life depends on it.

While he phrased it as a question, you were getting the vibe that it was more of a direct order. The doctor doesn’t have to be asked twice, he nods to you and removes himself from the room. This man has a clear aura of authority, what he says goes. You make a note of this before speaking to him again. He turns back around and his eyes wander up and down your body.

“Now, by this point, I’m sure you’re aware that I find you exceptionally beautiful, so I have a proposition for you. How would you like to be my wife?” At this incredibly blunt statement, your eyes widen and you choke on your words, the previous confidence you built up completely gone. “Oh, it’s a good deal, I promise. I’m hot shit around here, so I could get you practically anything you want. Plus… you’ve got access to all the alcohol you could ever want” He was right, that’s not exactly a bad deal. I mean, hell, what’s your alternative? You’re not sure, but you’re sure it’s not as pleasant.

“I… I would be honored,” you say, confused and, to be honest, a little awestruck.

“Well that’s just fanfuckingtastic,” Negan says, a shit-eating grin glowing on his face. He steps over to help you up out of the hospital bed. “Now, if you’ll come with me, I can show you around, and we can get you dressed” He walks you out into the hallway and up the stairs. You look over the ledge at the large room below you. There are people who appear to be working, all dressed in rags, looking miserable. Yeah, you definitely picked the long stick.

As Negan walked through the halls people, his men, you assume, would kneel and avert their eyes. That’s when it really set in, how much power this man has. You can’t fuck this up, you don’t get the feeling he’s a very merciful guy. Finally, at the top of a winding staircase, you reach Negan’s room. The minute you step in, you understand. The room is filled with 12ish absolutely stunning women in black, sleek dresses.

“What? You didn’t think you were the only beautiful girl left in this shithole of a world, did you?” Negan asks, wryly. A brunette girl sitting on the couch throws you a sympathetic look. “Follow me, let’s get you into your dress”

~~~

You emerge back into the room with the other girls, looking gorgeous, as Negan has told you. Multiple times. He certainly is quite the flirt, you think to yourself.

“Now ladies, I’d like you all to give your newest sister, (y/n), a warm welcome. I’ll be back tonight” he says and with a wink and a slap of your ass, he’s gone. You stand frozen, like a deer in headlights, extremely confused about the events of the last hour. The girl from the couch seems to catch wind of this and she walks over to you.

“Hey,” she says in a soft voice “Do you wanna come sit with me? My name’s Ariel. I might be able to answer some questions or help you get settled in, whatever you’d like” her eyes are soft and movements gentle. You give a faint nod and follow her back to the couch. She pours you a glass of red wine and takes a seat. “Welcome to Negan’s man cave,” she says, disdain evident in her voice. The two of you chat for a while. She talks you through the ins and outs of being one of Negan’s wives. Sex whenever he wants and you can’t have any sort of relationship with another man, Negan gets very jealous very easily. That’s not a side of him you particularly want to see, so you can live with that. In return, you get food, shelter, and safety. This is the first time you’ve had that since, well, before the apocalypse. To survive in this world, it looks like you’re just gonna have to suck it up because you could be starving to death right now.

~~~

You live on like that for a while. Your weekly…. meetings with Negan have been constantly growing in frequency. From what you can tell, he really really likes you. He’s started bringing you downstairs and out of the mancave to come with him as he strolls around The Sanctuary because he “just likes your company, (y/n)” You’ve gotten used to his authority at this point, and it almost… turns you on? You try not to think about it too much. You’re safe and content with the turn your life has taken and that’s all that matters. Sure, you think about your old group a lot. You miss Tara, Michonne, Maggie, Carl, Carol. You miss everyone. Especially Daryl. You two had shared your first kiss the week prior to your split from the group. It’s something that has been budding since Atlanta, but you had just now gained the confidence necessary in order to make the first move. You loved him, you really did. They were your family for 7 years, but they left you. That was their decision, and if they don’t need you, why burden them with your presence? You groan and roll your eyes. You’ve gotten too far in your own head again. Where’s Negan? He’ll definitely distract you in one way or another. You’ve reached the point of familiarity around The Sanctuary where all of its guards and men know you. They know to give you whatever you want or let you go where ever you want, or there will be hell to pay.

You walk around The Sanctuary for a while, Negan nowhere in sight. Eventually, you decide to check out front. You make your way past the front door guards. With a curt nod, they step back and let you take your leave. Just as you’re walking down the steps you hear a voice and turn around.

“Oh, uh, (y/n), Negan is out by the driveway packing the truck for his next pick up. If that’s who you’re looking for, that is.” the guard offers with a smile.

“It is, thank you so much,” you say “I’ve been looking for him forever, I really appreciate the help” Is he… blushing? Wow, you must have a lot more influence around here than you thought. You continue on your way, smiling softly. You see Negan in the distance, Lucille slung over his shoulder, he saunters around like he owns the place, and well, he does. His eyes eventually drift over to you.

“Ahh, (y/n), my favorite little girl! It is so good to see you right now” he comes over to you, kissing you softly on the cheek. “You know what? I’m sick of dealing with all of these men on my own, how’d you like to come on this run with me? No pressure, but I’d sure love to have you along for the ride” It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, plus, you’re always curious about that Negan does on all of these mysterious outings. Guess it’s your turn to find out.

~~~

After around an hour-long drive, the trail of trucks finally comes to a halt. You look out the window and see what appears to be a camp, and of decent size too. Why are the saviors here? You’re completely oblivious to the absolute hell that these people have been subjected to by the hands of your people, but you were about to find out.

“Negan, where are we?” You ask, looking around with a curious look in your eyes.

“All in good time, my love,” He says and steps out of the truck, offering you his hand to assist your descent. You take it and follow him through the gates. There’s a group of 5 men out to meet the saviors, but the rest of the streets are completely dead. You furrow your eyebrows and glance up at Negan. He gives you a smile and turns to deal with the men before him.

“Ah, so I see when I say give me half of your shit, you actually expect my men to go in and get it, because sure as fuck don’t see half of your shit waiting for me” He raises his eyebrows expectantly and is met only with silence and averted eyes. “Now that would really be going the extra mile, but if you want these brutes rifling through your shit, fine by me” He throws the five a wicked grin and waves his hand, signaling his men to begin searching. So, Negan’s power extends beyond The Sanctuary, apparently. Negan grabs your hand and pulls you over to the side.

“Any questions?” He asks, voice genuine.

“I just, is this where we get all of our stuff? Just… taking it from other groups?” You ask

“Well of course not, darling. You don’t think we actually need this worthless shit, do you?” you shrug, he chuckles softly. “All I’m really doing here is flexing. Showing these people who’s boss” you hum in understanding and he plants a kiss on your forehead before walking away to check on his men's progress.

You wander back over to the trucks and avoid contact with anyone who isn’t from The Sanctuary. This other camp, The Orchard, you believe it’s called, didn’t do anything to deserve Negan’s wrath. You’re sure of it. Negan is good to you, that’s for certain, but you can’t seem to ditch this feeling in the pit of your stomach that this, all of it, is just wrong. But then again, it’s your life. You don’t really have any choice except to embrace it, and shove down all of your doubts, however reasonable they may be.

~~~

It’s been months and you’ve tried to expose yourself to Negan’s excursions as much as possible in an attempt to become numb. Now, you can’t exactly guarantee how successful your efforts have been, but the thought is there. So, when Negan asks you if you want to tag along today, you go willingly, even though it’s practically dusk. After a 30ish minute drive, the trucks pull over and you look out the window, confused. There’s no gate or fence or community anywhere. You step out of the truck and walk around.

The minute your eyes reach the group completely at Negan’s mercy, your heart drops. Suddenly it's hard to breathe. There they are. Your old family. You’re completely frozen. Negan hops out of the truck, as usual. Your palms begin to sweat. He walks around the truck to open the door for you. You still can’t move. You’re just staring at them. All of them. They look… horrible. You’re not used to this. Not at all. They were all so strong. Negan, you think. Negan must have done this to them. Looking at them, with their heads down, completely at the mercy of these tens of men with guns. Lots and lots of guns.

“Come on, hon,” Negan says, offering you his hand. You snap out of your daze and tentatively take his hand. Just like usual. But. This isn’t just like usual.

Members of Rick’s group begin to look up, all seeming to have a similar reaction to you. Utter disbelief. Your eyes skim the row. Carl and Rick and Maggie and… your breath stops in your throat. Daryl. He’s cowering down, shawl wrapped around his shoulders. He is not okay. You swallow down a lump and take a few steps forwards.

“(Y/N)...?” a soft voice calls out. Your eyes shoot to the origin. Glenn. It was Glenn. His eyes are wide, a mixture of relief and betrayal rest clearly upon his face. “You’re… you’re alive?” He asks, incredulously.

“(Y/N)” Negan shouts. “You know these assholes?”

“I… They…” You stutter, mind reeling to find an acceptable answer that won’t piss him off. “Remember when Simon and Dwight found me in that gas station? With the bullet wound? Well. That was courtesy of these guys” You gesture wildly at the line. “I rode with them before ya’ll saved me,” You say, emphasizing the last two words, knowing it had to have stung Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. But, looking back on the past year or so in The Sanctuary, you can’t very much bring yourself to care.

But there it is again. That creeping sensation of… what? Loyalty? You’ve been trying to shove it back into whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of, but it’s absolutely ruthless. Memories keep unwillingly flooding back to your mind. When you had each other’s backs. When you were a family. Family. You don’t notice you’ve begun to cry until you taste the salt gathering at the corners of your mouth. You’ve known that the power Negan holds is wrong for so long, and you’ve been ignoring it out of self-preservation. But it’s more than that now. It’s them. It’s your family. You snap out of your trance and glance back over to Negan, pacing in front of the line, sadistically twirling Lucille. That’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Negan, stop” You shout, the strength in your voice surprising even yourself. His eyebrows shoot up and he turns on his heel. He seems to be taken aback, which, clearly doesn’t happen very often to a man of his standing. You know you can’t show any weakness now. There’s no going back. You look from Negan to those kneeling, looking back up at you with hopeful eyes. That solidifies what you’re about to say. That makes everything worth it. “Negan. This isn’t right. This is… this is…” you struggle to find the right word. “Evil. This is evil. And. I know you. I know you can be gentle. You can be generous. But. You can also be evil. These people,” you say, glancing over at the group. “These people are good. They don’t deserve what you” you stop yourself, “what we are putting on them. We can survive without, whatever this is. This cruelty.” You say, looking him in the eye the entire time. He’s frozen. You’ve never seen him like this before. You understood that you meant something to him, you were his favorite, maybe the best fuck. But, if you had the power to silence him, maybe you had more influence and control than you realized initially. Finally, after a long pause, he speaks up.

“(Y/N), you know how it works. You know I can’t let these people go, what would that say about me? What happened to my badass bitch?” He looks at you, wanting to appear strong in front of his men, but only you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. You walk up to him, only inches apart now.

“Negan. Please. Anyone but them, just, anyone but them” your voice soft but firm. You look up into his eyes, hoping he can see how serious you are. He closes his eyes and swallows. He didn’t reject it immediately, so, that’s a good sign. He looks at his feet. “If you hurt them. I’m leaving. You can kill me, I don’t care, but I cannot be anywhere near the man who killed my friends. The man who killed my family” You make eye contact with Daryl when speaking the last word. His eyes haven’t left you since you began to speak. He still means everything to you, despite how much you tried to deny it. “You do this. You lose me. That’s how it’s gonna be” You’ve never seen Negan look more conflicted in your few years with him than at this moment. You’re hoping that throughout the time you spent together that you got into his head. At least enough to save everyone. Negan regains his composure and turns to his men.

“Hey. Get the hell outta here and give us a minute, will ya?” he orders and nobody has to be asked twice. While everyone gathers behind the trucks, Negan takes your hand and walks you over to the treeline. A part of you is worried, is he going to punish you like you’ve seen him do to so many others? Any sense of fear is immediately gone when he puts his forehead to yours, caressing your cheek. His eyes are shut, and he appears, almost, vulnerable?

“Negan, I…” you start but are cut off by his piercing gaze.

“It’s okay. I… Damn, girl. I really care about you. And ain’t you go around telling nobody I said that. But. If it would make you happy, you can. You can go with them. Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t gonna be leaving them alone. But. I won’t kill them either” Negan turns away and you’re completely blown away. You were expecting a fight. This man is evil. But. You’re attached. What that says about you, you don’t know. You step forward and hug him from behind, interlocking your fingers and resting your head upon his shoulder.

“Thank you” you whisper, barely audible. “You saved me. And I’ll never forget you” he turns around and falls into your arms, his head burrowed in the crook of your neck.

~~~

The last truck disappears from view and you turn around. You’re alone now. And it’s so much harder than it was before. Before you could hide behind the guns and the men and you could hide behind Negan. But now? Now you’re alone, and you’re looking at your past head-on. You’re terrified. Will they take you back? Or turn their back on you like they did so long ago. You glance from everyone back to the ground.

“Um… well… hi guys?” you stammer out “Long time no see?” you flinch. Long time no see? Really? That’s your opening line? Everyone is frozen. That’s it. You assume it’s over. You close your eyes and clench your fists. You begin to turn around when you hear ruffling to your left. Your eyes shoot to the source. It’s Daryl. He’s grabbing his side in pain, but he’s standing nonetheless. He limps towards you with a sense of urgency and he reaches you with his arms wide open. You embrace, and it’s like everything in the world that was ever wrong is now right. He’s got all of his weight on you, entrusting you with all of his being. Everything isn’t going to be immediately okay again, you know this. But right now? Everything is perfect.

“I fucking missed you, baby girl” he spits out, gruffly. All you can do is hug tighter, amazed that you went so long without the most important thing in your life.

“We all missed you,” Rick says, from the side. You look over and see everyone either nod or hum in agreement. Tears begin to fog your vision. Finally. Finally, you aren’t settling. Finally, you’re happy. Finally, you’re home.

***

This was the first fic I ever wrote back in 2017. God. Wild. Time is absolutely fake. Anyway!

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3

[queenborhapreaderships]

We Were Written in the Stars, but the Universe is a Shit Author

Fandom: Merlin

Ship: Merlin/Arthur/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 link

Description: “You've been looking for your soulmates for your entire life, ridiculed and taunted for having two soul marks. Finally, when you've decided it's just not worth it anymore, your soulmates decide to come out of the shadows. Now everything's supposed to be perfect, right? That's how soulmates work, right? Well. You definitely learn that lesson the hard way. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and situations (no actual suicide though)”

***

The wind is blowing through your hair and you're swaying with it, feeling, oddly enough, at peace with the world for the first time in a while. You got in the castle easily enough, at first glance you appear to be a nice young servant girl, but if the guards only knew what was going on behind your pretty eyes you wouldn’t have gotten as far as you did. But now it’s too late.

You’re standing on the side of a bridge connected to the castle, peering down at the ground so far beneath you. Every ounce of your body is willing you to take a step. Just one little step and it’ll all be over, everything will finally go away. The voices of the guards behind you are barely coming to the forefront of your mind. They’re there for sure, but tuning them out is almost second nature. Nothing they say matters, they could never understand where you’re coming from, what you’ve been through. You close your eyes and feel the solid stone beneath your feet and you feel grounded. Connected with the earth. You raise your arms and feel them cutting through the breeze.

Suddenly a hand grasped firmly on your ankle pulls you out of your trance and you freeze, not daring to turn around. Why can’t they just leave you alone? Let you be? Why is it now that people decide to care? It’s frustrating and you just want them to go away. The bustling world around you slowly comes back into focus and you zero in on a voice.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing up there? Get down here this instant!” You can tell before turning around, this isn’t a question, this is a demand. You yank your foot back, a risky move for one in your position, and turn quickly to face the owner of the voice. Your heart stutters when you make eye contact with the King of Camelot. The King of Camelot? What the hell?

The man standing next to him seems to sense the mix of confusion and internal turmoil going on in your head. He shoots a quick glare at the King and looks back up at you. He looks familiar, you know you’ve seen him around the castle before, always at the King’s side. He smiles softly up at you, his eyes a striking shade of blue.

“What Arthur is trying to say is, come on down here so we can make sure you’re safe!” He chuckles as he finishes his thought, raising his hand up to you.

The minute the words leave his lips, your blood runs cold. It didn’t hit you at first, you were too out of it to realize what was happening when the King first spoke. But now you understand. You’ve waited so long for this moment, your entire life and it has the audacity to arrive at the one moment in which you wish it hadn’t. You know those words. Both of those phrases, actually. They’ve been etched into both of your forearms from the second you were brought into this world. So this is Arthur.

There wasn’t a moment growing up when you weren’t belittled and looked down upon for having two soul marks. You realized something was up when you were around seven, you could hear your parents speaking in hushed tones in the kitchen at night when you were supposed to be sleeping.

“Goddamnit, Girard! You know she’ll never be accepted. I’ve spoken to her teacher, and the other kids are already noticing she isn’t normal!” You remember your father sighing and resting his head in his hands, seated at the table. You were so young, you didn’t understand why you were so different? You had two soulmates, so doesn’t that just mean you get to give and receive twice as much love? Unfortunately, the world didn’t see it the same way. As you grew up, the whispers that spread around your small village weren’t really whispered anymore. You’ve heard it all, people who don’t even know you calling you things like ‘a worthless whore’ and ‘that goddamn harlot, poisoning the sanctity of our good town’.

You made it a point, not to listen to them. You ignored them as you passed, not giving them so much as a glance. But you were still quite young, and that’s a point in time when girls, in general, are particularly sensitive, and given the circumstances, you were no exception. Slowly, their words crept under your skin until they had a hold on your mind. You slipped into a depression, now it had its ups and downs. Throughout the years though, they were mainly downs. And right now? You’re as low as you’ve been since the beginning.

For most of your life, you never had anything against your soulmates, they seemed nice enough. If not, slightly abrasive. But you were sure you’d love them and they'd love you, that’s how this is supposed to work, right? That slightly optimistic sentiment didn’t stop you from wearing long sleeves at every waking moment, even under the sweltering sun you refused to replace your heavy wool shirt with a lighter garment. You were done being shamed for something you couldn’t control. To be honest, you’d grown a little bitter towards the entire concept of soulmates, wishing more than anything to finally fall into the arms of those who would accept you unconditionally, but never having the time arrive. Never having your soulmates arrive.

By the time you had made the decision to leave your small village and travel to the castle, almost everyone you had grown up with had already found their love, but you were still alone. They were lucky and often either discovered them very young or had their soulmate stop by, traveling from city to city on a mission for whatever ingredient to make whatever remedy and such. When you left, you’d accepted the reality that you just weren’t going to find your soulmates any time soon. Maybe you wouldn’t find them at all? Was this all a punishment for a sin committed in another lifetime? God, you hoped not. But now? Now you know that it is most certainly not like that.

As you snap back to the present, nothing but dread fills your veins. It seems that your mind is entirely incapable of comprehending the gravity of the situation. You utter the only word that makes sense.

“No”

Your gaze is glued to the two men below you. Your soulmates. One is the King of Camelot. This doesn’t make any sense. There must be some mistake. It’s only when their eyes widen in understanding is it that you know there hasn’t been one. You’re frozen in place, not daring to make the first move. Your soulmates turn and look at each other, faces slack with shock. The intensity of the moment seems to be hitting them as well. You see the King close his eyes and swallow, turning his head back up to you. His eyes pleading and his voice wavering as he barely manages to whisper out.

“Please”

Your heart breaks at this little show of vulnerability. You swallow what’s left of your pride and decide that maybe this path is worth going down, despite it coming at the most inconvenient of times. You finally break eye contact with the humbled man and look down. You can’t deny him of this request, and not because he’s your king, but because he’s your soulmate. You can feel it. You don’t even know who these men are, not truly, but you can feel a pull towards them. You want to be with them. This must be what everyone is talking about. When you look at them again, the only information your brain provides you with is ‘safe safe safe’ so you decide to lower yourself down until you’re sitting on the stone.

You can almost feel the sense of relief that washes over the two men because of your decision. You feel a half-grin growing on your face at how adorable they look. You stay seated for a minute to take it all in. Arthur has his armor on and a big red cape draped from his neck. He definitely looks quite regal, not to mention the crown resting upon his head. The man beside him is much the opposite. He’s wearing a blue shirt almost entirely covered by a brown jacket. What really stands out about him though is the red scarf wrapped around his neck and the brown boots crumpled down at his feet. These are your soulmates. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this definitely wasn’t it. Well hey, you’re in no way complaining.

You position your arms to push yourself to the ground but your focus is interrupted by a pair of hands on your waist. You look up and it’s Arthur, making sure you land safely. If it were anyone besides these two men, you would’ve freaked out by now. But this feels right. Like his hands belong on your hips and that they’re finally coming home. As he places you down on the ground, he leans over and whispers a word of thanks in your ear for not taking his soulmate away from him. Your heart flutters at the proximity of your faces, even if it was just for a second. He backs away and looks at the ground, leaving the other man to do the talking.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what the proper etiquette would be in this situation... but hi, I’m Merlin” he shoots you a cheeky grin, “your soulmate, and this clotpole over here,” he says, gesturing at the King, “would just so happen to be my soulmate and your other soulmate, Arthur”

After a somewhat lengthy pause, you realize that it’s now your turn to introduce yourself.

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m (y/n). I didn’t really think this moment would ever come” you say with a slightly cynical edge to your voice. “But it did! So, it’s really good to finally meet you guys” you perk up, realizing that this is, in fact, real life. You can see that Merlin’s eyes have drifted up to where your sleeve has ridden up slightly. Out of habit, you push the fabric back down and cough as you look to your feet. Finally, Arthur breaks his silence.

“Would you like to join us for dinner? I can have the kitchens bring us up anything you’d like to eat.” The thought of having a real meal for the first time since you'd left your village sounds extremely inviting, but you don’t want to provide anybody working in the kitchen with any more work than they would have previously had.

“That’d be wonderful!” you say, a genuine smile on your face for the first time in months. “I’ll just have whatever you two are having.”

“Brilliant!” Arthur says with a dazzling smile painted across his face. “Follow me” He grabs your hand and drags you and Merlin through a maze of hallways.

***

You’re surprised when Arthur leads you to his private chambers. You would’ve thought he’d bring you to something akin to a dining hall. ‘Castles have those, right?’ You think to yourself. His decision to take you into his own room seems much more intimate, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

In the time that you’ve been in Arthur’s chambers, you’ve learned a bit about the two men you now get to call your soulmates. Arthur and Merlin met long before Arthur was crowned as King. They knew immediately that they were soulmates, but neither of them made a move. Merlin was too nervous and Arthur feared what his father would think. Then shit hit the fan and Merlin ended up getting assigned the title of Arthur’s loving manservant, much to both of their dismay. The time they were forced to spend together brought feelings bubbling to the surface that both of them had been trying to suppress. They all spilled out one day when Merlin put his life on the line for Arthur, and Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He yelled at his servant for being so stupid and careless, Merlin didn’t get upset because knew Arthur. He could read between the lines and realized that Arthur was petrified at the thought of losing Merlin. Merlin decided, to hell with it, grabbed Arthur’s face, and kissed the life out of him. It was that day that they finally admitted to themselves and each other that they were hopelessly in love, damn what the rest of the kingdom thinks.

‘They’re perfect’ you think to yourself, and just like that, you can feel the doubt start to creep back in. You know that you’re all meant to be together, but you can’t help feeling like maybe you aren’t? Like there isn’t room for you, they’re goddamn perfect and their love story is beautiful. After all, soulmates aren’t supposed to come in threes, and Merlin and Arthur found each other first. A knock on the door snaps you out of your daze and before you know it, Merlin is off of his feet helping the maid to bring in the food. The kindness in his heart brings a smile to your face.

Once the meals are on the table you catch yourself staring at it. The food looks delicious, better than anything your parents made you back home. It wasn’t their fault, they did the best with the resources they had at their disposal. You swallow the lump in your throat and realize just how out of your depth you are. You can feel yourself begin to shut down, and you feel a little guilty considering how hard the boys clearly tried to make this evening special, but you just can’t help yourself.

You can hear Merlin and Arthur talking back and forth like they’ve known each other their entire lives and you can’t help but feel slightly left out. Not because of anything they’ve done wrong, they can’t help how long they’ve known each other. But you can’t help feeling like they’d be better off without you getting in the way and messing with the flow of their relationship. You can tell that they’re trying their best to include you. They’re asking you questions about your interests and where you grew up, but you reply only with one or two-word answers and fiddle with the remaining food on your plate.

Suddenly everything just crashes in on you and you can’t take it anymore. Every time either one of them laughs it feels like a knife in your heart, confirming you aren’t meant to be here. Not really. You can feel the tears pooling up in your eyes and the shame that you’re crying over this causes heat to rise in your cheeks. This just so happens to be the moment Merlin looks away from gazing adoringly at Arthur. He notices your distress and confusion contorts his face.

“(y/n), what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Arthur looks over too, his concern evident. That’s it. You can’t take the thought of them pitying you. You stand up forcefully, the chair almost falling backward and rush out of the door into the maze of hallways, hoping you can find your way out. You ignore the calls of the two men behind you that care so much for some goddamn reason.

***

Before you knew it, your feet have taken you back to the forest, just beyond the line of trees where you set up camp. You had no place to stay inside of the kingdom, so you didn’t even try. You had no money to stay at an inn and you knew how to survive on your own anyway. Your camp was really well put together, you didn’t need to live in the kingdom.

There you lived, day in and day out. You refused to step foot back in the castle or anywhere close to the kingdom, despite how much you wanted to. If you were being honest with yourself, you were absolutely terrified of running into Merlin and Arthur again. You know that they’d accept you back with open arms, but the shame and embarrassment still burned fresh in your mind because of your less than graceful exit. You wish you would’ve been able to pull yourself together and give the, what was it? A budding relationship? You don’t know, you didn’t stay long enough to find out. To give, whatever was forming, a shot. But you were too caught up in your own head, and you get that. It happens from time to time. It’s just a part of who you are at this point.

It was completely silent in your little nook of the forest for at least a week or so until one day you’re awoken by the gallop of horses. You groan and roll over, covering your head with your makeshift pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound. Suddenly the galloping stops, but you didn’t hear the horses or their riders leave the area. You hear what sounds to someone hopping off of their horse and that’s when a booming voice breaks you out of your sleep-filled haze.

“Show yourself, you thief!” Oh if that’s not just exactly what you need right now. You honestly didn’t steal a single thing, you’ve been foraging and hunting to survive, and it hasn’t been all too pleasant. You sit up and scrub at your eyes before shuffling out of the shelter you had crafted.

You make eye contact with the owner of the voice and your heart seems to stop. It’s him. It’s them. It’s Arthur with Merlin at his side, because where else would he be? They seem to have the same reaction. You cringe and wait for this to all blow up in your face, but you’re shocked when you feel arms encompass you. You embrace the warm body and you feel more at home than you have ever before in your entire life. You look up and see Arthur smiling warmly at his two soulmates, finally together again. You shift your head and burrow into Merlin’s neck, hugging him as if your life depends on it. Arthur sits down next to the two of you and when you finally come up for air, you turn to him, his arms outstretched.

“My turn,” he says, and you happily oblige. He’s a bit harder to hug, the bulky armor getting in the way and all, but in your gut, there’s that same feeling. Home. The three of you are all huddled on the soft earth, a little bit of a mess. Once he gets around to letting go of you, you look back to Merlin.

“Why…” he stutters over his words “why did you leave? Did we do something wrong? We were so worried, we searched practically the entire kingdom looking for you.” Your heart immediately breaks, you can’t imagine what they must’ve thought when you took off. If they’re anything like you, and you sense they are, they had to have been blaming themselves.

“Oh guys, of course you didn’t. You’re perfect. Too perfect. I just. I felt like I was intruding on something that really didn’t need me to begin with.” You have a hard time enunciating what was going on in your head, but you hope they’ll understand. Neither of them say anything, but they look at each other and it seems as if they’re speaking without talking. They simultaneously reach down to pull off their right boot.

You see what they’re going for the minute they’re off. There, on their Achilles heel, is one simple word, "No". You knew it was on them somewhere, it had to be, but actually seeing the dark print forever etched on their bodies is an entirely different thing. Arthur looks you dead in the face and says.

“(y/n), I know that we don’t know you very well yet. But we will. I promise you with everything in me, if you give us the chance, we will love you until the day we die. It’s all right here,” he says, gesturing towards the pair’s ankles. “Soul marks don’t lie” you feel a blush rising on your cheeks and you shoot Arthur a smile.

“Not everything is going to be perfect all the time,” Merlin says, “but where’s the fun in that? We want to be with you, (y/n). We want to get to know you for you, and I promise, you’re never going to get in the way. You’re a part of this now, as long as you’re willing.” You recognize that this last statement is almost a question and you can’t help but fall back into their arms, trying not to let go of the tears that are threatening to spill. You hope that this provides them with any answers they’re seeking. You’re overwhelmed again, but this time it’s with happiness and a sense of belonging you certainly never experienced back home. Right now, though? Right now you’re redefining home and you couldn’t be happier. What Merlin said is definitely true. Nothing will ever be perfect, you’ll never be happy one hundred percent of the time, but you’re with two people who are willing to work with you and do everything they can to make you feel welcome. This is all you had ever wanted growing up, it’s what you had convinced yourself that you would never find, but it’s all here in the palm of your hand. You’re damn sure you’re not going to let it slip back through your fingers again.

***

I will admit, this one is much easier to read on AO3 because of the formatting, but for the second fic I ever wrote, I’m pretty dang proud of this oldie. 

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3

[queenborhapreaderships]

Safe

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: Eleventh Doctor/Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

AO3 link

Description: “The Doctor is furious. You risked your life again and he just won't have that. He can't have another death on his hands, but is that all? Is there more to why he's so mad? Spoiler alert. Yes. Yes, there is.”

***

“Doctor, no! You can’t, after all this time, you just can’t!” you shout, raising your voice louder than you ever have at the man before. It’s okay though, it’s justified, because he can’t just try to drop you off like none of this ever happened, like you’d be happier with your old life doing absolutely nothing. He knows that isn’t true, after all of this time, he has to.

“(y/n), I’m actually trying to be kind for once, why can’t you see that?” he huffs. “I could’ve just dropped you off and left because I know, I absolutely know you’d be safer there. But I didn’t because I thought this would be better, I thought you’d appreciate it more if you heard it directly from the source, but I guess I was wrong” he spits out, bitterly. “It’s not like I want to ruin your fun, I want to keep you safe, I need to keep you safe”

“Oh, don’t pull that card on me, something shitty is still shitty whether you give me prior notice or not, and Doctor. Really? This is what I signed up for, we both know that this is exactly what I signed up for,” you say, gesturing down at the rapidly healing gash on your side.

The Doctor was able to get you to the med bay just in time for his spare stash of nanoparticles to work their magic on you, but the instance didn’t leave either of you completely unscathed. You could see the burning look in The Doctor’s eye, you weren’t going to get out of this one so easily.

“No, (y/n). You signed up to travel with me and do as I say!” he roared, a fire behind his eyes that sped up your heartbeat. “Not to run off trying to be the goddamn hero and risk the safety of yourself and the hostages! What if that cut were a bit deeper, what if I didn’t get you back in time? Where does that leave me?” he turns his back, not bearing to look at you. His shoulders heave as he pants, balling his fists in what you can’t quite identify. Sure, it’s rage, but it’s also something else.

You’re frozen in your place. He has a point, you did go off on your own, but only because you absolutely knew that you could save them, while The Doctor’s plan was a bit more circumstantial and in its early stages of development. Sure, he would’ve saved them eventually, but you could’ve saved them then and now. Who knows what would’ve happened to them during the time in between.

“But, Doctor…” you say, doing your best to keep your voice from wavering. “They’re okay. I’m okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever. You’d have to drag my cold dead body out of the Tardis doors,” you say and see him wince and internally cringe. Okay, maybe not the best choice in wording. “Yikes, I…” He cuts you out before you can correct that misstep in speech.

“It’s okay, (y/n). I know what you meant. You just. You have to be more careful. I cannot have your death on my hands. I could’ve prevented that, I should’ve. If I were just paying a bit more attention to what you were doing” he trails off. Your stomach drops and you think you can hear your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

You walk up to him carefully, making sure he’s dealt with the anger in your actions. When you see no red flags, you place your hand gingerly upon his cheek.

“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.” you say, making sure to emphasize every word. You say a lot, but The Doctor doesn’t always read in between the lines. You can’t have him misinterpreting anything. “I did what I did independently of you, frankly I don’t think there’s anything you could’ve done to stop me from saving those people”

“I could’ve saved them first” he whispers as his eyes close and head drops. You wrap your other arm around the back of his neck pulling him in close, so that his head is in the curve of your neck. He falls into you, holding on for dear life.

“Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, and you say I always try to be the hero. It’s okay,” you whisper almost under your breath, running your fingers through his hair as his grip around you tightens.

“Can’t lose you” you can hear him mutter. His breathing is shallow as he digs his head further into the crevice of your neck.

“Doctor. Doctor, look at me,” you say, once again placing your hand on the side of his head. He finally reluctantly pulls out of you and his red-rimmed eyes stop your heart. “What’s really wrong? This is deeper than me getting hurt, I know it is. What do you need me to do?” you ask, your loyalty unabashedly shining through.

“I need you to leave but I want you to stay, I can’t be selfish and think that you being with me is more important than your life,” he says, avoiding your eyes. You pull his face towards your so that your foreheads are touching.

“Doctor. You are my life.” you think that should be enough to get the message across. As you look into his eyes, you see something change. His face is mere inches away from yours now, you can feel his breathing quicken.

You know that you want to lean forwards, just a little bit and place your lips on his. But you can’t. This is a hundred-year-old man, he’s seen things, amazing things, that you could never dream of. He’s suffered losses unimaginable to you. He’s just. So much. More.

You feel something soft that juts you out of your spiral. You snap back to reality and realize that, this magnificent being, he’s kissing you. You were so shocked that you froze, but the second he started to pull away, you pulled him back and kissed him more passionately than you ever have with anyone before. Because anyone else? They weren’t The Doctor. Your Doctor.

You finally need to come up for air, so you pull back for a second. You can tell that he’s out of breath too, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You look into his eyes and can see nothing but love and admiration. You can’t help but giggle.

“What?” he asks, playfully.

“Just you. You’re impossible. You’re magnificent. You kissed me. I just. I can’t believe it” you say, rapidly. It’s all rather unorganized, but how can you be expected to be eloquent after what just happened?

“You can’t believe I kissed you? Why? You’re the most magnificent human I’ve ever met. You’ve got the biggest capacity for empathy I’ve ever seen, even if you try to hide it. It might get you in trouble from time to time, but goddammit, (y/n), I love it. I love you.” he spits out, seemingly not noticing the gravity of his statement.

Your eyes widen, this is everything you’ve ever wanted. Right in front of you. There has to be some catch, the other shoe has to drop, but when you see nothing but sincerity glowing from his dumb beautiful face, you have no choice but to believe him.

“I love you too. How could I not?” you say with a smile, caressing his cheek, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. “I love you so much” you can see the smile grow upon his face until he’s practically beaming.

He jumps up, jolting you from your state of serenity. He’s running around the Tardis console like a man on a mission. His intensity makes you laugh.

“Oh good god, Doctor. What are you doing? Where are we going now? And really, right now? Couldn’t we be doing something a bit more. Fun?” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“Fun? Oh, fun! Yes, fun! We’ll get to fun, but first I have to show you the great falls of Archipelago, three twin waterfalls made up of roses. Yes, roses!” he shouts as he continues to flip switches and press buttons. He stops and turns on his heel to look you in the eye, “I’ve got to make sure our first date is absolutely fantastic, don’t I?” he smiles at the recognition growing across your face. He turns to pull one last lever and spins as he points up to the roof of the Tardis and with one word, you two are off to start the best part of your lives together.

“Geronimo!”

***

This one is also a few years old, but hey, why not? Pls lemme know if you liked it! 

My inbox is open and I’ll write for any fandom I’m in! <3 

[queenborhapreaderships]

That’s That

Fandom: Doctor Who

Ship: Eleven/Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AO3 link

Description: “The Tardis takes a bit of a tumble and you bang your head up pretty bad. Cue a very worried Doctor. He takes care of you which causes certain... things to come to light.”

***

“What?” The Doctor roared, “This doesn’t happen, this can’t happen” he continued to run around the Tardis console like a madman.

“Doctor, tell me what’s happening! Tell me what you need from me!” you shout in an attempt to make yourself useful and potentially help calm The Doctor down a little from the ragged state he’s in.

“No no no, there’s nothing you can do, (y/n), unless you’ve learned how to repair the external shields on a Tardis overnight. Have you, by any chance?” he glances over to you and then when the Tardis makes an angry beeping sound, he sprints over to the opposite side and attempts to pull down a lever. It won’t budge.

“Come on!” he screams, yanking to no avail. “The shields shouldn’t break down, that’s the entire reason they exist in the first place! Nothing should be able to hurt her! With the exception of the Titanic”, he mutters under his breath.

“The what?” you look up and stare at him.

Before he has the time to answer, you’re both thrown flying in different directions. Now, with a life in the Tardis, you’re definitely used to rough landings, but this was different. It’s like the area dealing with the field of gravity switched off for a second, just enough time to really throw you around the room.

You weren’t sure if you were on the ceiling, the walls, or the floor until The Doctor began grabbing at your arm. He was scrambling across the floor in an attempt to get you up and safe. Another bump throws you down the stairs, but at least this time you’ve got something to hold on to, even if it’s someone else getting thrown around too.

When the Tardis finally stops shaking the two of you about, you land side by side. You both sit up wearily, The Doctor rubbing at the back of his head with pain lighting up all of his features.

“Well that wasn’t very fun, now was it?” he turns to look at you and you grunt in agreement. Talking doesn’t sound like much fun either, you’ve finally found the time to acknowledge the splitting headache tearing at your skull. You groan and lie back down because that seems to be the position with the least amount of throbbing.

The Doctor glances from you with your hands rubbing circles around your aching temples back to the Tardis, he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll be right back” he mutters as he bounds up to the flashing console and fiddles around for a minute or two. Once The Doctor finally seems to get her back in order he rushes back down to you. “I’m sorry, I’m right here. I had to make sure we weren’t going to get taken on any more joyrides. We’re safe now, I’ve got you. Can you sit up? Is it just your head?”

He’s hovering. He always hovers when he’s concerned. It’s really not that bad, it would just be better if everything above your chest didn’t exist.

“Yeah, my head and my neck, but I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry,” you say, rolling over in an attempt to make yourself comfortable on the floor, the cold actually doesn’t feel terrible on your overheated body.

“Oh, (y/n), you know I’ll worry no matter what,” he says, a soft grin growing across his face. “Now let’s get you up, can you walk?”

“I’m sure I could, but why would I want to? I’m perfectly comfortable down here,” you grumble and curl up into a ball, attempting to get away from the offending bright lights. The Tardis dims them instantly and gives a hum, whether that be an apology or an attempt to motivate you to get up, you’re not quite sure. Frankly, you don’t have the energy to contemplate the matter.

Right before you allow yourself to doze off, you feel what must be The Doctor scooping you up into his arms. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel the warmth radiating off of him. You can’t help but rest your head in the crevice of his neck. The last thing you feel is a kiss being placed on the top of your head before you drift away.

~~~~~

You wake up to the sound of a door opening. When you crack your eyelids, you smile at the image of The Doctor trying his best to sneak in the room without disturbing you. It’s adorable, really. It’s not his fault you’re a light sleeper. He looks over to you and you see his eyes widen.

“Oh. Oops…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I should be getting up anyway. How long have I been out?” you ask, hoping to squash the guilt you know is bubbling up in The Doctor.

“Only an hour or so, lie back down, you need rest,” he says, taking a seat next to your bed.

“I’m really okay, Doctor. I promise.”

“I know you will be, but you took a nasty spill. I don’t want to risk anything when it comes to you, ever,” he says, reaching over to run his fingers through your hair. All of a sudden you can’t make eye contact anymore, you avert your eyes and feel the dam breaking. The feelings you’ve been trying to suffocate for months have come flooding back with a vengeance.

The Doctor notices a shift in the atmosphere and is instantly concerned. If you were able to look at him, you’d notice the worry light up across his face but you still can’t get yourself to meet his eyes.

“(y/n)? What’s wrong? Are you in pain? How can I help?” the concern laced in his voice causes your heart to practically skip a beat. Why does he have to be so goddamn genuine? You don’t want to roll over and ignore him, that would be too childish, but you don’t know what to do. So you don’t do anything, you just. Freeze.

“(y/n)? Okay, you’re starting to frighten me now…” you want to say something but you’re just so overwhelmed. You finally garner the courage to look over and his heart breaks the second he sees your red-rimmed eyes. You weren’t crying, but damn, were you close. The Doctor finally began to sense that this wasn’t a physical ailment plaguing you.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll always be here. Are you homesick? I can take you back if you want to be with your family” he offers, doing everything he can to prevent the hint of sadness from leaking through in his voice. You can tell he’s started to ramble again, overthinking everything there is to be thought.

“It’s not that. It’s…” you croak out. “I just…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m worried if I tell you, you’ll send me home. Or it’ll be weird and I don’t want it to be weird,” you say, the shame rising up throughout you.

“What? A time-traveling alien with a blue box that’s bigger on the inside isn’t already weird?” he asks, smiling slightly to himself. “There’s nothing you could say that would make me stop loving you.” Your stomach drops and you’re instantly frozen again. This time, nothing stops you from staring at him dead on. Did he just? But did he mean it like… that? He couldn’t have, right?

“Shh, stop thinking so loudly, it’s really rather annoying” he chuckles. “I love you and that’s that,” he says pointedly. Before you’re able to process what you’re doing, you’ve lunged into his open arms. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair and the other holding the small of your back firmly. You bury your head into his shoulder, trying not to cry and get his jacket wet.

“I love you too.” you barely whisper.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur, but what you do remember is an overwhelming sense of home. Wherever the Tardis is, is home. Wherever The Doctor is? That’s home too.

***

My inbox is open for requests for any fandom I’m in! Let me know if you liked this, it’s a little old but I thought I’d share it anyway. 

[queenborhapreaderships]

ya boi is boutta dump all of her work from ao3 onto here so she can have it in one collective place. full disclosure, some of it is from years and years ago and oof. but i tried!! that’s all that matters. 

[queenborhapreaderships]

@sherlockedmcu and @fanfictionsilove thank you guys so much, you’re so sweet!!! <3 <3 <3 

[queenborhapreaderships]

requests are open

please send me something, i am SO bored, i’m driving myself crazy!!

i’ll write for sherlock, supernatural, doctor who, marvel, pretty much any fandom i’m in! i have a list on my blog, but if you’ve got a question about a specific fandom, lemme know! (I typically do reader insert fics, but i’m open to anything!)

[queenborhapreaderships]

Would you be okay with doing a Sherlock thing where reader is really really close to him, could be romantic but doesn’t need to be if you don’t want to, and perhaps they get kidnapped (and tortured if you’re up for it??? Perhaps Sherlock can watch from a livestream the kidnapper is doing?) could be a happy ending if you wanna! I’m just here for that gud angst 😈

Uhh, so this kinda got out of hand. It's 3.6k words and I was barely able to stop myself. Thank you for this prompt!!! Nothing too graphic, but there are mild torture scenes, so if that makes anyone uncomfortable, skip this one! ***Particularly HumanYou’re startled awake by the sound of a gunshot, your unplanned nap in John’s old chair ending abruptly. You groan and shift your position, knowing better than to worry. Sherlock is just being Sherlock. He’s been particularly antsy lately, as a case has been getting under his skin. “What? Did I interrupt your beauty sleep? Sorry, there’s only people dying,” he spits at you, pacing back and forth the flat the two of you have been sharing for a while now. You roll your eyes at him, scoffing at his nerve. You’re used to it at this point, and know not to take him seriously when he’s acting particularly venomous, he’s just externalizing his frustration towards himself for being unable to immediately figure out who is blackmailing his brother's coworkers. Of course he’s good, he’s better than good, but you’ve been seeing a particularly human side of him lately. It’s not that he’s slipping, he’s actually been solving cases at lightning speed, this is the first one to trip him up in a while. It’s just that now he trusts you? You almost can’t believe it, given his fiery exterior, but you know him. You know Sherlock Holmes. “Yeah, because giving poor Mrs. Hudson a heart attack is going to help you solve the damn case,” you finally say after staring at him for a few seconds. He squirms under your glare before you notice his demeanor change. His eyes light up and that classic shit-eating grin grows across his face. “That’s it,” he mutters, turning with bravado and gathering his things in a hurry. “Get ready, we have a plane to catch!” “Goddamnit, Sherlock,” is all you manage before he grabs your hand and drags you downstairs in a flurry. He never seems to tell you all of the details surrounding cases he deems especially dangerous, and it makes you mad sometimes. You want to be able to help, but you can’t if he won’t let you. Sometimes, you’ll figure it out on your own and save the day, but this one is more bureaucratic than your liking so you’re alright with being kept in the dark. He eventually manages to hail a taxi and is furiously typing into his cell, you look over to see John’s name at the top and you smile at the prospect of seeing your friend. John has been busy lately with taking care of Rose and you can tell Sherlock misses him, as he’s always trying to annoy him into helping the two of you. You can hold your own, that’s for certain, but seeing John would be a nice change of pace for both of you. Before he’s able to send the message his phone rings. You see Mycroft’s name pop up and he groans before rejecting the call, on principle, of course. He finishes typing and puts his phone on silent before turning to look at you. He meets your eyes and smiles ever so slightly. “This is going to be more risky than I had initially thought, so I need you to do everything I say and don’t,” he emphasizes the word, “do anything stupid.” You can hear the worry edging into his voice.“You know I can’t promise that, you wouldn’t have brought me if I could,” you say, bumping into his side, playfully. “You know what I mean,” he says, eyes locked on you. You don’t know where you’re going or where you’ll be even in an hour, but none of it matters because you're with him. You trust him, too. With your life, because god knows he’s saved it before. Your sides are still touching and you decide to break his gaze by resting your head on his shoulder. This isn’t new for you and Sherlock, he’s been more open to touch than usual, but you’re always concerned you’re going to push him too far. Your worries dissipate when you feel the slightest amount of pressure on your head and know that he’s leaning on you too. The moment is broken by the piercing shrill of your cellphone in your back pocket. He sits back up and you move to see who’s calling you, you could’ve sworn you turned the damn thing on silent. When you pull it out, you’re not surprised to see Mycroft’s name and a rather unflattering picture Sherlock took a few years ago gracing the screen. Sherlock audibly groans and snatches the phone from your hands.“What?” he bites out, cold as ice. You can hear Mycroft’s hushed, frantic tone but can’t make out what he’s saying. The more he talks, the more jittery Sherlock becomes, not getting a word in over Mycroft’s mania. “Well lucky for you, we’re already headed that way. Be there in ten.”“What was that all about?” you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.“Oh, this is going to be fun. Kidnapping! Can’t wait!” he says, giddiness written across his face. You can’t help but laugh at his excitement, you love seeing him like this. Despite the rather morbid subject matter you’re often dealing with, seeing Sherlock in his element, enjoying himself makes it all worth it. You know you wouldn’t trade it for the world. When you pull up to the airport a bit later, you can sense something is off. You don’t know what, but you’ve got a weird feeling in your gut about what is about to transpire. Sherlock is still riding the wave of the new revelation regarding the case, but if he doesn’t think anything of it, you suppose it’ll be alright. The cab was let in without any trouble, nobody asked who either of you were or why you’re there, and it would be safe to assume Sherlock is a household name by now, so he’d be let in without question. But they didn’t even check to see if he was there, the gate just opened. It’s less anxiety inducing to assume this is all a part of the plan, but you can’t seem to get over the thought in the back of your head that something is not right. The cab ever so slowly comes to a stop and the driver gets out, you assume to open the door for his passengers, but the second his door closes you hear him lock the doors. Your heart drops. You should’ve known. You should’ve said something. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sherlock pulling on the door handle and banging his fists into the window. “It’s not worth the energy,” you say, still stuck swimming within your own self doubt. It’s evident in your voice and downcast eyes that you’re upset. He looks over, his face softening for a moment before grabbing your hand. Suddenly, his look of determination is back in full force. “Well, obviously not, but I refuse to sit here and let this transpire without trying” he says, giving your hand a small squeeze before climbing to the front seat to meddle some more. “We’re in the heart of the beast,” you say, still processing the predicament you’ve found yourselves in, “we’re surrounded.” Sherlock’s lack of response confuses you until you look up at him. He’s staring off at something and you follow his gaze. Oh shit. Mycroft is climbing out of a plane with his hands behind his head in surrender, a masked man has a gun to his temple. “Coward,” Sherlock mumbles, finally accepting the reality of the situation. You’re not getting out from brute force alone, this is going to take some doing. Seemingly out of nowhere, two men with automatic rifles hiked behind their backs are pounding on the door, gesturing to get out. Suddenly the doors unlock and the men rip them open. One now has his gun aimed at your head. You roll your eyes, inconvenienced at most. “I’m coming, I’m coming, settle your ass down,” you say, hoping to extend to Sherlock that you’re okay. You aren’t overly worried, more pissed off at yourself for your lack of action. The man grabs your arm harshly and jabs the tip of his gun into your back. You can see the other man practically dragging Sherlock out of the car, you laugh under your breath, knowing he’s making it as hard for the men as possible to do their jobs. They walk you both over to where Mycroft is now on his knees, arms still up.“Ah, little brother, nice of you to finally join the party,” he says, a twinge of, something, in his voice. “Some party,” you bark out and groan when the gun digs deeper into your back. “Hey, leave her out of this” Sherlock finally speaks, coming to your defense nonetheless. You all know it’s in vain, but hearing his voice is reassuring. “Where’s the fun in that?” A disembodied voice comes out of the speakers typically used to communicate with the ground staff. They’ve taken up a new purpose now, and you’re less than thrilled to hear whatever this jackass has to say. “Oh for fucks sake, enough with the theatrics,” Sherlock yells, you look over and can practically see the gears turning as he processes what to do next.“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Mycroft mutters under his breath, “do not push these people.” “What are they going to do? Put us in time out, where’s the creativity, guys? The innovation, this whole gun to the head thing is so tired,” Sherlock says, exasperated. “You want creativity? Bring me the girl.” “Oh, here we go,” you say as you’re pulled up. You look back and see Sherlock’s eyes widening in what seems like fear? That can’t be right, this has to be part of some big plan he’s made up, so you shoot him a lopsided grin, letting him know that you’ve got this.As you’re being taken into the building, you can see the brothers being herded into the big commercial jet a few yards away. They stop you outside a door and push you down to your knees. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re blindfolded and you feel your wrists being forced into handcuffs. You grin out of spite. “Let’s get this show on the road, I don’t have all day” you push, seeing how far you can take this. You’re also beyond over this situation to begin with. You definitely seemed to have pushed their buttons and you’re made aware when you’re shoved in the room, the door slamming behind you.“Darling. Come in, take a seat, relax,” you hear the voice say. Not through the speakers, this time. He’s here. “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you so much for your hospitality. This blindfold truly is the best I’ve ever had,” you say, trying to match his sarcasm, refusing to show fear. Objectively, you’re in a weak position, but as long as you don’t show it, you know you’ve got a semblance of the upper hand. “Only the finest silk for such a fine woman” he practically purrs and you can hear footsteps drawing closer to you. You aren’t shocked when you feel a hand caressing your face, stroking your hair. This is pretty routine, the whole creepy bad guy, can't get laid, scenario. You hear him walk around you to the front and kneel down to your level. You can’t resist. You spit in his face. You’re delighted when you hear him cry out in disgust, you smile to yourself, proud of your actions. “Oh, you’ve really done it now, you bitch,” he says, tone laced with malice, “hit the cameras.” he says to what you can only assume are more of his minions. “Now, I know you can’t see it, but I’ve got your boy toys tied up in a very similar manner. I need information. I need control. I need power,” he spits out. Monologue time, you think to yourself. Wouldn’t be the first you’ve heard. “And I know it won’t be given up voluntarily. But it seems you and the detective have grown rather close, you’re always on his tail like a little lost puppy.” “Rude,” you say in an attempt to keep yourself together, if anything. He ignores you.“It’s my understanding that the boys need a bit of, let’s say, motivation, to tell me what I need to know,” This is a first. Surprisingly. You know John had been taken before to get to Sherlock, it’s about time someone decided to try and use you. It feels inevitable, these are the risks that come with working alongside him. You knew that when you signed up. No regrets. He’s worth it. “So Sherlock is going to tell me what I need to know, or his puppy is going to get sent to the pound.” You’re really over this whole dog metaphor. What is it with these people and their goddamn metaphors?You hear the man get up and walk away, you feel yourself hoisted up and are dragged in the same direction. Your handcuffs are taken off and put back on again, but this time in front of your body. You hear a rattling above you and your heart sinks. Your hands are raised above your head and connected to what you assume is a chain hanging from the rafters. One of his men yanks the chain and your body is pulled upwards so your feet are barely touching the ground. You bite back a groan, refusing to give them what they want despite how vulnerable you feel. “Now Sherlock, are you there? Can you see us?” he says to the air. You feel your blindfold ripped off and see Sherlock and Mycroft projected onto the wall in front of you. You do your best to take stock of where you are and who you’re with, but you can’t tear your eyes off of him. He’s on his knees, hands tied behind his back, and there’s a long gash across his face, from his eyebrow to the bottom of his cheek. He sees you, panicked. Behind him, a man pulls off his gag. “Leave her alone, you bastard. Get your hands off of her or I swear you’ll regret it,” he growls. You want to believe him. You want to believe he has the upper hand here, but you have to admit, the situation is looking pretty damn grim. “I’d like to see you try. Just for that, let’s see what happens when you disobey,” the man shoots back. You try to make out as many details about him as you can, but the mask he’s wearing makes it difficult. He turns around and stalks towards you. You can faintly hear Sherlock yelling in the background, but your attention is focused on the man. Suddenly, you’re blinded by pain, a shooting sensation coming from your side. You look down to see the handle of a screwdriver sticking out of your stomach. You can’t even begin to process what has happened before you’re faced with another blow, he punched you in the face. You feel the blood begin to trickle down into your eye, eyebrow cut wide open. You look up to see Sherlock struggling in his restraints and screaming. You can’t hear him. Did they turn his audio off? Or did he really hit you that hard? You can’t tell, nor do you really care. You can’t think of anything outside of the tool sticking out of your body and Sherlock on the screen. You hear the two of them talking, but can’t exactly make out what they’re saying. You feel a few more hits to your torso before you daze off into a fitful sleep. You wake up in a haze, unaware of where you are or how much time has passed. But you know you’re still hanging from the damn ceiling. You try and open your eyes, but can only manage to open one, the other crusted shut with the blood from your eyebrow. You can’t help but let out a groan, still not wanting to show weakness but it hurt so damn bad. That’s when you hear a voice. A different voice, a new voice. A voice that doesn’t immediately strike the fear of more pain into your heart. Is that? It couldn’t be. Is that John? This maybe-John speaks again and is fiddling with your restraints, trying to get you down. Definitely John. You don’t know what changed, but you’re slowly becoming able to make out what he’s saying.“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m going to get you out of here, I promise, I brought the cavalry, you’re going to be okay,” he went on like that for a while, just muttering whatever he deemed helpful. Moreso to himself than you, you personally couldn’t imagine walking in on your close friend like this and holding it together as well as he is right now. The last thought before you drifted off again was that, once again, John Watson was saving your asses. The next time you wake up is much more peaceful. You’re lulled awake by the steady beeping of a machine you’re hooked up to. Your throat is dry as all hell, but when you realize someone is sleeping on a chair beside you, you decide it isn’t a priority. What is a priority is this curly-haired goofball of a main, gripping your hand, tighter than you’d think possible for someone unconscious. His breathing is shallow and his head is resting on your bed, curled up as close as he possibly can to your good side. You smile to yourself and squeeze his hand reassuringly. You’re alive. He’s alive. You’re assuming John and Mycroft took care of the rest. You’re still a little fuzzy on the details, but hey, it doesn’t matter as long as Sherlock is okay. He shifts in his sleep, and then mumbles something before slowly lifting his head. He woke himself up. He’s adorable. “Hey, you” you say softly, letting go of his hand to stroke his hair and get a look at that face. You grimace when you see the freshly stitched up wound looking red and angry. “They really got you good, didn’t they?” “Me? How on earth are you possibly worried about me right now? They stabbed you with a screwdriver!” He exclaims, entirely too fired up for a man who just woke up. He sees you wince at his volume and puts his head back down, nuzzling into your side in apology. “I should’ve been able to stop it. I should’ve known better than to take you with me. I knew it wasn’t going to be good, I knew it was a risk. I didn’t know they were planning on using you as leverage. I never would willingly put you in danger, but I did. And I am so sorry.” Your heart breaks at his words, his tone of voice, and his sincerity. You don’t think you’ve ever heard this man apologize, not for anything, and it kills you that he’s blaming himself. You reach down, ignoring the shooting pain in your side, and grab his chin, gently turning his head to yours. Are those unshed tears in his eyes? You know you have to fix this right now. “Sherlock, this isn’t your fault, okay? I promise it’s not. From day one, I knew something like this was possible. I knew the danger I was in and I did it anyway.” He tries to butt in, but you don’t let him. “I did it anyway because you are worth it, all of the risk, and all of the pain. You save lives. You’ve saved my life, in more ways than one, and if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. You are worth it. Spending time with you is worth it. Being with you is worth it. It’s worth all of the stab wounds in the world, okay?” You take in the look on his face, the adoration and the… love? Soon, the unshed tears are streaming down his cheeks and you can’t take it anymore, damn your injuries. You place your hand on the side of his face, stroking a tear away and pull him in close until his head is resting on your shoulder, face in your neck. You can feel the hot tears on your skin and begin to trace your hand up and down his back until he calms down. Finally, his breathing becomes more even and he manages to choke something out. You can’t hear him and he repeats himself, pulling away from your neck. You instantly miss the touch of his skin to yours. “I just can’t lose you, I can’t. I wouldn’t be okay, but you deserve better than this” he manages to say before collapsing back into your embrace. “Oh Sherlock, you aren’t losing me anytime soon, okay? I’m alright, I’m alive, I’m here and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. You make,” you stutter at the weight of what you’re about to say, “you make life worth living,” he doesn’t respond, but instead, wraps his arm around you, meticulously avoiding your injuries. You return your hand back to his head, running your fingers through his hair. God, you love him. You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to say it to him, but you hope more than anything that he knows. Because you love him so fucking much. You can’t even tell when the two of you fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. The one you weren’t conscious to see was John walking in to check on you, surprised to see Sherlock had already taken care of things. Whether or not he smiled and took a quick picture of you guys isn’t any of your business, but John thinks to himself how he’s most definitely going to use the picture as blackmail for the rest of his life.Little did he know, neither of you will care. You love him and you aren’t afraid of anyone knowing. ***My inbox is open for requests! I can't figure out how to link it because tumblr ~must~ update every other week just to confuse me, but I'll write for just about any fandom I'm in! There's a list not too far down my blog. Thanks again for the request, I hope you liked it!

[queenborhapreaderships]

What other fandoms are you active(ish) in?

Ooooh, okay, good question. A lot. I’m gonna do my best to list off most of them, but I’ll definitely miss a few so feel free to ask if you’ve got one in particular in mind!

Supernatural, Sherlock, Doctor Who (I know, right? 2014 Tumblr up in this bitch), all of Marvel and the X-Men, Queen/BoRhap, The Witcher, House, It’s Always Sunny, The Walking Dead (but I haven’t seen annyyy of the more recent reasons), Breaking Bad, Criminal Minds, Lucifer (at one point), Merlin, The Good Place, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and Lost. 

That’s just off the top of my head and some of them are pretty old/inactive, but it’s cool, all I have is time at this point to rewatch and shit. 

Feel free to request anything and I’ll do my best! Thank you for the ask! I should have this list pinned somewhere tbh…

[queenborhapreaderships]

And Good Omens and It!

[queenborhapreaderships]

To the anon who sent me the Sherlock request! Hell yeah! I love that so much, angst is my absolute favorite to write!! I’m gonna rewatch a few clips from the show to get back into the flow of the characters and get writing! Thank you sm, I’m excited for this one! 

[queenborhapreaderships]

Do you have any rules?

I appreciate this a lot, thank you for asking! 

Yeah, I’ve got one main one, I don’t do smut or anything like that. I’m just not comfortable with it considering some life history shit that I will not bore you all with. But that’s my only thing, really! 

I should also probably pin this somewhere also. If I were still 14 I would know how to edit my blog to make that happen, but alas, I’ve forgotten everything I learned. 

[queenborhapreaderships]

What other fandoms are you active(ish) in?

Ooooh, okay, good question. A lot. I’m gonna do my best to list off most of them, but I’ll definitely miss a few so feel free to ask if you’ve got one in particular in mind!

Supernatural, Sherlock, Doctor Who (I know, right? 2014 Tumblr up in this bitch), all of Marvel and the X-Men, Queen/BoRhap, The Witcher, House, It’s Always Sunny, The Walking Dead (but I haven’t seen annyyy of the more recent reasons), Breaking Bad, Criminal Minds, Lucifer (at one point), Merlin, The Good Place, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and Lost. 

That’s just off the top of my head and some of them are pretty old/inactive, but it’s cool, all I have is time at this point to rewatch and shit. 

Feel free to request anything and I’ll do my best! Thank you for the ask! I should have this list pinned somewhere tbh...

[queenborhapreaderships]

Are you still active?

That is a great question! I do not know! I go through like a month where I’ll write non-stop and then like a year where I won’t write anything. 

But considering I have nothing else to do and am in quarantine, I probably should pick it back up again! I probably wouldn’t be the best at The Witcher stuff rn because i haven’t seen it in months, but I’ll write for any fandom I’m active(ish) in! Thanks for the ask, I miss this blog!! <333

[queenborhapreaderships]

y’all i just got a fucking notification telling me i’m in the top 1% of queen listeners. out of 33 million. heLLO? how do i still listen to that much queen???? hyperfixations be like...