#ben hardy lock

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

Your childhood was abusive, which caused you to have PTSD and your lover helps you through it

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Bullseye, Marc Spector, Taskmaster, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Susan Storm, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa, Elektra Natchios, Muse, Victor von Doom, Peter Quill & Nova

Please read with caution ♡

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter had always been perceptive, but he knew better than anyone how wounds could be hidden beneath easy smiles. He saw it in the way your body tensed at raised voices, how your fingers curled too tightly into the fabric of your sleeves when a door slammed too hard. He never pressed, never pried. He just let you be, offering his presence as a quiet, unwavering shelter.

- The first time he saw you flinch—really flinch—was when he’d accidentally knocked a stack of books off his desk. The sound had sent you back to something far away, something dark. He saw it in the way your breath hitched, in the glassy sheen of your eyes. And without a word, Peter had just… sat down. Cross-legged on the floor, keeping his movements slow, his voice soft as he said, "You’re safe. Right here, right now—you’re safe."

- Patience was something Peter knew intimately, and he carried it into every touch, every kiss, every moment spent tangled in the sanctuary of his arms. He never reached for you without warning, never raised his voice in anger. The world could be loud, but Peter? Peter was a whisper, a steady heartbeat against your ear, a warm presence always willing to meet you where you needed him.

- And God help anyone who reminded you of your past. The first time someone tried to tear into your scars with cruel words, Peter had them webbed to a streetlamp before they could blink. "People like you? You’re nothing," he said, voice calm but cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth he always gave you. Because Peter would take any punch for you—but he would never let anyone hurt you again.

- At night, when nightmares curled around your throat like smoke, he would hold you through it. His lips would press against your forehead, murmuring soft reassurances, his fingers tracing absent patterns into your skin. "You don’t have to be strong right now," he would whisper. "I’ve got you. I’ll always have you."

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony had seen trauma in every shape and shade, had felt it crawl beneath his own skin like a second heartbeat. But the first time he saw it in you, it wrecked him. The way you shrank at a raised voice, the way your entire body locked up at the sound of breaking glass. The realization hit him like a freight train—you hadn’t just survived something terrible. You had lived in it.

- He changed after that. Subtly, at first. No more slamming doors, no more snapping at employees. His hands stopped hovering near yours and instead waited, patient and steady, for you to reach first. His voice was softer around you, his movements slower. He was a storm everywhere else—but with you? He was the calm.

- But the world wasn’t always gentle, and Tony Stark was not a man who forgave cruelty. When someone thought it was funny to push your limits, to test your reactions, Tony didn’t even raise his voice. He just smiled—sharp, cold, terrifying. The next day, that person lost everything. Their job. Their reputation. Their place in the world. "No one touches what’s mine," he told you later, brushing a hand through your hair. "No one."

- Tony had never been one for sleep, but after learning the weight of your nightmares, he never left you alone in the dark. His arms became your haven, his heartbeat a rhythm you could anchor yourself to. And when you couldn’t speak, when the memories were too thick, he would simply pull you close and say, "It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Just breathe with me."

- You weren’t broken. He never saw you that way. You were a masterpiece with fractures, and Tony—Tony had always loved things that had lived, things that had survived. He traced his fingers over your scars like they were constellations, pressing kisses to the places that once held pain, as if rewriting history with every touch. "They don’t own you anymore," he murmured one night, lips against your temple. "Only you do. Only you ever will."

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve was gentle by nature, but after he learned the truth—after he saw the weight you carried—he became something else entirely. He became careful. Every touch was preceded by a quiet "May I?", every movement slowed until he was sure you felt safe. The world had been unkind to you, but Steve Rogers would never be.

- The first time you flinched at his raised voice, he looked wrecked. He had only been arguing with Sam, nothing serious—but when he turned and saw the way your shoulders curled inward, the way your breath stuttered—his heart broke. That night, he held you without a word, just pressing soft kisses to your hair, silently promising to never let his anger touch you.

- He carried your pain like it was his own. When he saw bruises on others, when he heard whispers of children suffering at the hands of those meant to protect them—he acted. His fists never wavered when thrown in the name of justice, but when it came to you, his hands were only ever soft.

- Steve had always been a shield before a sword, and with you, that never changed. He positioned himself between you and the world’s cruelty, standing firm against anything—or anyone—who thought they had the right to hurt you. "No more," he told you one evening, his blue eyes burning with something fierce, something unyielding. "No one will ever lay a hand on you again. Not while I’m here."

- He became your home. Not just in the way he held you, but in the way he stayed. When you woke up gasping from nightmares, when you couldn’t find the words for what hurt, Steve was simply there. His hands traced slow, soothing circles into your back, his voice a steady hum of comfort. "You’re not alone," he whispered against your skin. "You’ll never be alone again."

Thor

- Thor had never known restraint. He loved fully, existed loudly, and wielded his presence like the storm that bore him. But the first time he saw you recoil, saw the way shadows swallowed the light in your eyes at the wrong tone, the wrong movement—he stilled. For you, he would quiet the thunder.

- He learned to approach you with care, to temper his strength into something softer. "You are safe, my love," he told you often, his voice as steady as the earth beneath your feet. When others forgot, when the world was careless, Thor remembered. Every sharp sound was met with his immediate presence, his hands warm and grounding against yours.

- But the storm did not vanish—it was merely redirected. The first time someone sneered at your trauma, dismissed the things you had suffered, lightning cracked the sky. Thor did not raise his voice—he did not need to. He simply looked at them, eyes dark with a promise of wrath, and they crumbled. "You will speak no more," he commanded, and the heavens listened.

- At night, when the weight of the past crept in, Thor would wrap himself around you like an unshakable fortress. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, his lips pressing warmth into your hair. "Breathe with me, beloved," he would murmur, his heartbeat steady and unyielding against your own. "Feel the steadiness of my soul, the certainty of my love. You are here, in my arms, and I shall never let harm befall you again."

- Thor did not see you as fragile—he saw you as enduring. He did not mourn your scars, did not pity your past. Instead, he celebrated you, worshipped the strength it took to survive. "You are mighty," he whispered one night, pressing a reverent kiss to your palm. "Mightier than even I. And I shall spend every day proving to you that you are worthy of love."

Loki

- Loki was not a man who shied away from darkness. He had lived in its embrace, had let it carve itself into his soul, twisting and shifting until it was impossible to tell where the wounds ended and where he began. So when he saw the way you flinched at raised voices, the way your breath hitched when hands moved too fast, he did not ask questions. He simply understood.

- He moved differently around you—not out of pity, but out of respect. His steps were quieter, his gestures slower, his voice a low, soothing thing instead of the sharp-edged blade it usually was. He never forced you to speak of your past, never pressed when he saw the weight in your eyes. He simply let you be, allowing you to come to him when you were ready.

- But Loki was still Loki, and he was vengeful in the way he loved you. He kept a careful tally of those who mistreated you, of those who so much as sneered at the pain you had endured. And when the moment was right, when their own sins came to collect, he ensured they suffered. He never told you, never admitted the reason for his sudden, pleased smirks—but the air always smelled of satisfaction after your ghosts disappeared.

- When nightmares curled their fingers around your throat, when sleep was stolen by memories of cruelty, he was there. He would whisper to you in languages older than time, his voice an anchor in the storm. And when you couldn’t bear to be held, he would simply sit beside you, a silent sentinel against the ghosts that dared haunt you.

- "They will never touch you again," he told you once, fingers tracing slow patterns along your wrist. "You belong to no one. No gods, no mortals, no past. You are yours, and I will burn the world before I let them steal even a whisper of you."

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint had never been one for loud spaces, had never been the type to fill silences just to hear himself speak. He noticed things—the way you tensed when voices rose, the way your hands clenched when something moved too fast, too sudden. He saw it all, but he never made you feel watched. Instead, he made sure you felt safe.

- He adapted without hesitation. Doors never slammed, footsteps never came without warning. When arguments brewed, he kept his voice steady, calm, even when frustration burned in his chest. He knew what it was like to grow up under a heavy hand, to flinch before the pain even came. And if he could make sure you never felt that way around him, he would.

- But God help anyone who reminded you of your past. Clint might not have been as openly vengeful as others, but he had his own ways of handling things. A carefully placed arrow, a reputation ruined in the right circles—silent, subtle, but effective. And when he returned home, when he climbed into bed beside you, he never told you what he had done. He just pulled you close, letting you rest against the steady rhythm of his heart.

- The first time he caught you in the grips of a panic attack, he didn’t speak. He didn’t try to fix it, didn’t try to force you into comfort. He simply sat with you, close enough that you knew you weren’t alone, but never too close, never pushing. And when your breathing finally steadied, when the world no longer felt like it was closing in, he simply murmured, "Atta girl. I knew you’d find your way back."

- Clint wasn’t good with words, wasn’t good with grand declarations—but in every action, in every careful movement, he told you what you meant to him. And when you doubted yourself, when the past clawed its way to the surface, he would only shake his head, lean in, and press a kiss to your temple. "You’re tougher than all of them," he’d whisper. "And I’ve got your back. Always."

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha recognized the signs before you even knew she had noticed. The way you stiffened at the wrong tone, the way your body seemed to shrink in on itself at sudden movements. She had lived it—had felt it in every sharp order, every bruising lesson drilled into her bones. She didn’t need to ask. She just knew.

- She adjusted without hesitation. She never moved too quickly around you, never raised her voice when emotions ran high. If she was angry, she stepped away. If you were overwhelmed, she gave you space—but never too much. Just enough to breathe, just enough to know she was still there, waiting, steady.

- But when it came to those who had hurt you—those who had carved fear into your very skin—Natasha was not merciful. She did not believe in forgiveness, not for them. She was quiet in her vengeance, unseen and unknown, but when she returned, when she curled up beside you at night, there was a peace in her that hadn’t been there before. A satisfaction that told you she had made sure they would never haunt you again.

- She never pushed you to talk, never forced you to relive what had already scarred you. But when you were ready, when the words finally slipped from your lips in a trembling whisper, she listened. And when the silence stretched between you, heavy and raw, she simply reached out, tracing slow, deliberate circles against your wrist. "They don’t get to win," she said, voice steady. "You do. You already have."

- Natasha wasn’t one for flowery words or grand gestures, but she made sure you knew. Knew that you were safe, that you were hers, and that nothing—nothing—would ever touch you again. And in the quiet moments, when the past felt like a weight you couldn’t escape, she would press a kiss to your shoulder and whisper, "No one owns you anymore. No one ever will."

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knew trauma. Knew it like the back of his hand, like the weight of a metal limb that wasn’t his to choose. He saw it in you, saw the way your body locked up at the wrong sounds, the wrong movements. And he didn’t just understand it—he felt it. Deep in his bones, in the echoes of his own past.

- He was careful with you in a way he hadn’t been with anyone else. His movements were always slow, deliberate. He never reached for you unless you reached first. Never raised his voice, never let frustration color his tone when he knew it would hurt more than help. He knew how it felt to be afraid of something you couldn’t control, and he would be damned if he ever became one of those things for you.

- But Bucky was not a forgiving man when it came to those who had made you this way. He didn’t rage, didn’t storm—he simply acted. No words, no threats, just quiet, methodical destruction. And when he came back, when he curled his body around yours at night, he never told you what he had done. He just kissed your hair and whispered, "They won’t bother you anymore."

- When you woke up gasping from nightmares, when panic had its claws around your throat, Bucky didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed. He let you grip his shirt, let you shake in his arms until the storm passed. And when words finally found you, when you whispered apologies into his chest, he only shook his head and murmured, "You don’t have to say sorry. Not to me. Never to me."

- Bucky didn’t promise that the past wouldn’t hurt anymore—he knew better than that. But he did promise that you wouldn’t have to face it alone. That you would never be trapped in it again. And when the memories threatened to drown you, when the fear clawed its way back, he would hold you tighter and remind you, "You survived them. You beat them. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure they never touch you again."

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matthew was a man who carried his own ghosts. He understood pain, not just in theory but in the way it etched itself into bones, the way it lingered in the spaces between breaths. He didn’t need to see your wounds to know they were there—he could hear them in the tremor of your voice, feel them in the way your heartbeat stuttered when voices were raised. He never asked. He simply knew.

- He adjusted to you the way he adjusted to the city—effortlessly, instinctively. His movements became softer, more deliberate. He never reached for you without warning, never let his own temper boil over into something you might mistake for danger. Even when he was furious—when justice burned in his chest like a second heartbeat—he kept his voice steady, kept his presence calm. He refused to let anything make you feel unsafe.

- But Matt was not a man who tolerated cruelty. He had seen too much of it in his lifetime, and he would not abide it in yours. If there was anyone who still haunted you, anyone who had left scars on your soul, they would not last long in Hell’s Kitchen. The city had a way of swallowing people like that—of making them disappear in the dead of night. Matt never admitted to it, but the satisfaction in his silence told you all you needed to know.

- When nightmares clutched at you, when memories turned your breath ragged and your body rigid, Matt did not rush you. He did not drown you in empty reassurances. He simply stayed. His hands—calloused, steady—would find yours, grounding you. And when you could finally breathe again, when the world stopped spinning, he would murmur, "You’re not there anymore. You’re here. With me."

- Matthew did not offer false promises. He did not tell you that the past would stop hurting or that the fear would vanish overnight. But he did promise you this—that you were his, and no force in heaven or hell would ever harm you again. And when the city whispered threats in the dark, when shadows from your past tried to creep back in, he would remind them, in blood and bruises, that Daredevil does not forgive.

Frank Castle (Punisher)

- Frank was not a man of gentle words. He was not soft, not delicate, but he was careful. With you, at least. The first time he saw you flinch at a raised voice, the first time you recoiled from a sudden movement, something in him snapped. He had known cruelty before, had spent his life hunting the kind of people who inflicted it. And he knew—without you ever telling him—that someone had hurt you. Badly.

- He never asked for details. Never pushed you to talk. If you wanted to tell him, you would. Until then, all he needed to know was that it would never happen again. The first time he heard the name of someone who had hurt you, he disappeared for three days. When he came back, there was blood on his knuckles and peace in his eyes. He never said a word about it, and you never asked.

- Frank wasn’t good with emotions, wasn’t good at comfort. But he was good at protecting. He noticed your triggers, memorized them like a soldier memorizes an enemy’s weakness. He never slammed doors, never moved too fast around you, never let his anger spill into something reckless. His rage was a weapon, and he wielded it with precision.

- He was your shield when you needed it, your anchor when the past threatened to pull you under. When you woke up shaking, when memories made your hands tremble, he would simply pull you into his chest, let your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt. And when words failed you, when all you could do was breathe through the fear, he would murmur, "Ain't nobody touchin’ you again. Not while I’m breathin’."

- Frank Castle was a monster to the world—a nightmare wrapped in flesh. But to you, he was something else entirely. A protector. A force of nature that stood between you and the demons of your past. And when ghosts tried to return, when the world thought it could hurt you again, Frank reminded them, in blood and fire, that The Punisher doesn’t forgive. And he doesn’t forget.

Bullseye (Lester)

- Bullseye was not a good man. He had never been a good man, and he never pretended otherwise. But when he saw the way you flinched at raised voices, the way you anticipated pain before it ever came, something inside him twisted. He recognized that fear. He had been the one causing it most of his life. But he wasn’t them. He wasn’t the bastards who had hurt you. And he’d make damn sure you knew that.

- He changed for you—not in a way that made him soft, not in a way that stripped him of the sharp edges that made him him, but in a way that mattered. He learned your triggers, memorized them like a game he refused to lose. He didn’t raise his voice around you, didn’t move too fast unless he wanted you to see it coming. Control was everything to him, and he exercised it for you.

- But he was still Bullseye. Still sadistic, still twisted in the way he loved. He didn’t just hate the people who had hurt you—he hunted them. It wasn’t about justice. It wasn’t about morality. It was about fun. And there was nothing more satisfying than making monsters feel like prey. He never told you what he did, but the way he smirked when he came home, the way he wiped blood off his hands with a satisfied sigh—it was enough.

- He wasn’t good at comfort, wasn’t good at softness. But when you woke up shaking, when the past crawled up your throat like poison, he didn’t mock you. He didn’t push you away. He just pulled you into his lap, let you cling to him until the tremors stopped. And when you finally looked at him, vulnerable and raw, he would grin, tilt your chin up, and say, "I don’t care how broken you think you are, sweetheart. You’re still mine. And I take care of what’s mine."

- Bullseye was chaos incarnate, a storm with no mercy. But for you, he was something else. Still dangerous, still unpredictable—but yours. And if the past ever came knocking, if the people who had hurt you ever dared to crawl out of the shadows, they wouldn’t last long. Because Bullseye didn’t just protect what he loved—he destroyed anything that threatened it.

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc was haunted long before he met you. He carried ghosts in his skin, blood on his hands. He was a man split in three, a storm constantly raging beneath the surface. But when he saw the fear in your eyes, the way you recoiled from sudden movement, something inside him settled. He knew pain when he saw it. And he knew how to handle it.

- He adapted instantly. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make any sudden movements around you unless he warned you first. He made sure you always knew it was him—whispered your name before entering a room, let you see his hands before reaching for you. He knew what it was like to live on edge, to always expect the worst. He would never be a source of that for you.

- But Marc was not a merciful man. When he learned the truth—when he learned about the people who had made you this way—his entire body stilled. And then, with a terrifying calm, he asked for names. He didn’t yell. He didn’t rage. He simply disappeared that night, and when he came back, there was no more past to haunt you. Only silence. Only peace.

- He didn’t push you to talk, didn’t force you to relive the worst of it. But when the pain overwhelmed you, when you woke up gasping for breath, he was there. He would hold you if you let him, would whisper reassurances against your hair. And when you finally settled, when your breathing evened out, he would kiss your temple and murmur, "They don’t get to hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here."

- Marc Spector was a man of war, a man built for violence. But with you, he was something else. He was safety. He was home. And if the world ever tried to take that from you again, it would learn—painfully, brutally—that Moon Knight does not forgive. And he does not forget.

Taskmaster (Tony Masters)

- Taskmaster had spent his life among the worst of humanity. He had trained murderers, killers, people who saw life as nothing more than a transaction. He didn’t consider himself a good man—never had, never would—but when he learned about what had been done to you, something in him twisted. He had never been one for justice, but vengeance? That, he understood. That, he thrived on.

- He noticed your triggers before you ever spoke about them. The way your breath hitched when someone raised their voice, the way your body tensed at sudden movements. He wasn’t the kind of man who asked questions—he didn’t need to. Instead, he adapted. His voice never rose around you, his movements became deliberate, controlled. The world saw him as unpredictable, but around you, he was calculated. He would never be something you feared.

- He was possessive, territorial in a way that most people would find terrifying. But with you, it was different. It wasn’t just about having you—it was about protecting you. When he found out who had hurt you, they simply ceased to exist. There was no spectacle, no grand revenge plan. Just silence. Just a quiet, efficient elimination. And when he returned to you, wiping blood off his gloves, all he said was, "They won’t bother you anymore."

- Taskmaster wasn’t good with words, wasn’t good with comfort. But he was good at making sure you knew you were safe. When the nightmares hit, when memories turned your breath ragged, he wouldn’t drown you in reassurances. He’d simply pull you into his lap, let you press your face against his chest, his body a solid, unshakable presence against your trembling form. And when you could finally breathe again, he would murmur, "Ain't nobody touchin’ what’s mine. Not ever again."

- He was a weapon, a killer, a ghost that haunted the criminal underworld. But to you, he was something else. Not soft, not gentle—but yours. And if the world ever tried to touch you again, to drag you back into the hell you had escaped, Taskmaster would remind them—painfully, mercilessly—that Tony Masters does not forgive.

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- Johnny had never known real fear—not the kind that lived in bones, in breath, in the spaces between heartbeats. He had been reckless his entire life, unafraid, untouchable. But when he saw the way you flinched at raised voices, the way your body froze when anger crackled too close, it hit him. Hard. You weren’t just sensitive. You had been hurt.

- He didn’t know how to deal with that at first. He was loud, animated, a storm of energy and fire. But for you, he learned to temper himself. He kept his voice light, playful, never sharp. He warned you before he moved too fast, before his hands reached for you. It wasn’t something he did consciously—he just wanted to make you feel safe.

- But Johnny was also angry. Not at you, never at you, but at the people who had made you this way. He wasn’t violent—not like some of the others in your life—but if he ever saw the ones who had hurt you, he wouldn’t hesitate to burn their lives to the ground. Not physically, maybe, but socially, financially? He’d ruin them with a smile, make sure they lost everything.

- He didn’t always know what to do when the past clawed at you, when memories turned your nights into something unbearable. But he stayed. He cracked stupid jokes, let you curl into his warmth, let his fire chase away the cold that lingered in your bones. And when words failed him, when all he could do was be there, he would press a kiss to your forehead and whisper, "You got me, babe. You’ll always have me."

- Johnny was reckless, wild, untamed. But when it came to you, he was something else. Steady. Safe. And if anyone thought they could hurt you again, if the past ever came crawling back, they would learn the hard way that the Human Torch burns hotter than any hell they’ve ever known.

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- Reed was a man of logic, of science, of equations and solutions. But there was no equation for the way your breath hitched at loud voices, no formula for the way your body braced for impact when someone moved too quickly. He noticed it all, memorized the patterns, the reactions. And it wrecked him to realize why.

- He approached it the way he approached everything else—with patience, with precision. He never made you feel like an experiment, never made you feel studied. But he adapted. His voice never rose in anger, his movements were controlled, calculated. If he noticed you shrinking away, he would slow, give you space. He would never be something you feared.

- But Reed was also furious. He wasn’t a violent man, wasn’t someone who solved problems with fists or fire. But he was powerful. And when he found out who had hurt you, he destroyed them in the way only he could—legally, financially, socially. They lost their jobs, their reputations, their entire existences. And it was done so subtly, so flawlessly, that they never even knew why their world was falling apart.

- He wasn’t always good with emotions, wasn’t always good at comfort. But when you broke, when the past pulled you under, he was there. He held you, let you cling to him, let you find solace in his steady, unwavering presence. And when the worst of it passed, when you could finally breathe again, he would cup your face in his hands and whisper, "You are not alone. You never will be again."

- Reed Richards was a scientist, a genius, a man who could reshape reality itself. But for you, he was something even greater. He was yours. And if the world ever tried to hurt you again, he would remind them—quietly, ruthlessly—that there is no escape from the mind of Mr. Fantastic.

Ben Grimm (The Thing)

- Ben Grimm had seen the worst of the world. He had felt the sting of rejection, the ache of knowing that no matter how much good he did, there would always be people who saw him as a monster. So when he learned about your past, when he realized the weight you carried, it wasn’t anger that filled him—not at you, never at you—but at the people who had made you this way. The people who had hurt you, who had made you flinch at loud voices and sudden movements, who had made you believe that love was something you had to earn.

- Ben was big—he knew that. He knew his size, his strength, could be intimidating. And so he was careful with you in ways most people wouldn’t expect. His movements around you were slower, more deliberate. He never raised his voice, never let frustration slip into his tone. If he ever had to yell, if the world pushed him to the point of shouting, he always made sure you weren’t in earshot. Because the last thing he ever wanted was to make you afraid of him.

- When the nightmares came, when the past wrapped its claws around your throat and dragged you back into the darkness, Ben was there. He didn’t say much—he knew words weren’t always enough—but he was steady. A wall of warmth and strength that you could lean against, could hide behind, could trust. And when the worst of it had passed, when you were left shaking and breathless, he would squeeze your hand and murmur, "Ain't nothin’ gonna hurt ya no more, sweetheart. Not while I’m here."

- But Ben was also fierce in his love. If he ever saw the people who had hurt you, if he ever had the chance to make them understand the damage they had done, he wouldn’t hesitate. He wasn’t a cruel man, wasn’t one for vengeance—but for you, for the love of his life, he would make an exception. They would know fear. They would pay. And if you ever worried about what he had done, about how far he was willing to go for you, he would simply shake his head and say, "Some people don’t deserve a second chance, doll. Some people just deserve a reminder of what it means to be small."

- Ben Grimm had been turned into a monster, but he had never been one. And when it came to you, when it came to keeping you safe, he was something else. A fortress. A protector. A love so unwavering it could withstand anything. And if the world ever tried to take you from him, if the past ever tried to claim you again, it would learn—The Thing doesn’t break. And he doesn’t let go.

Susan Storm (Invisible Woman)

- Susan had always been a shield, always been the one to stand between the people she loved and the things that threatened them. But when she learned about your past, when she realized the depth of your pain, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time—rage. Not the kind that burned hot and fast, not the kind that exploded outward, but the kind that simmered deep, the kind that settled into her bones and waited.

- She was gentle with you. Not because she thought you were fragile—no, she had seen your strength, had felt the resilience in your touch—but because she knew what it was like to carry a weight you couldn’t always put into words. She never pushed, never pried. But she watched. She learned your triggers, learned the small signs that meant you needed space or, conversely, that you needed her. And when you needed her, she was there—always.

- But Susan was not just a shield. She was also a weapon. And when she found out about the people who had hurt you, she didn’t hesitate. She erased them from your life, not just physically, but completely. She made sure they could never reach you again, never so much as whisper your name. She would never tell you what she had done—you had suffered enough. But if you ever asked, if you ever needed to know, she would take your hands in hers, look you in the eye, and say, "You never have to be afraid again."

- But beyond the protection, beyond the quiet, careful ways she ensured your safety, Susan loved you. And her love was soft. It was hands in your hair, arms wrapped around you in the quiet of the night. It was whispered reassurances, gentle smiles, the kind of tenderness that never asked for anything in return. She made you feel seen, made you feel wanted in a way you never had before. And if you ever doubted it, if the echoes of your past made you question your worth, she would cup your face in her hands and remind you—"You are not what they made you. You are mine."

- Susan Storm was many things. A hero, a leader, a woman who had faced more than most could ever understand. But when it came to you, she was something else. Unbreakable. Fierce. Yours. And if the past ever tried to take you from her, if the people who had hurt you ever resurfaced, they would learn the hard way that The Invisible Woman sees everything—and she does not forgive.

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- Felicia had spent her life slipping through the cracks of the world, always one step ahead, always dancing between the lines of hero and villain. But with you, there was no game, no mask. When she learned about your past, when she saw the way you shrank from anger, the way your breath hitched at the wrong tone, something inside her snapped. Because she had spent her whole life taking from people—stealing from them—but you? You had only ever had things stolen from you. And that? That wasn’t something she could forgive.

- She didn’t change who she was, didn’t suddenly become soft and delicate. But she became careful. Her teasing turned more mindful, her touches more deliberate. She never made a move without your permission, never touched you unless she knew you wanted her to. And if you ever flinched, ever winced at something unintentional, she would stop in her tracks, hold her hands up, and wait. Not with impatience, not with frustration, but with the unwavering promise that she would always let you set the pace.

- But Felicia was still Felicia. And when she found out about the people who had hurt you, she hunted. Not for money, not for jewels, but for revenge. She made their lives hell, made them feel small. She didn’t kill—not because she wasn’t willing, but because she knew that some punishments were worse than death. When she was done, they were nothing. Just ghosts of the monsters they had once been. And if you ever asked, if you ever wondered why you never heard from them again, she would smirk and purr, "Oh, kitten, let’s just say karma has very sharp claws."

- But for all her fire, for all her wild, reckless energy, Felicia loved you in a way that was startlingly soft. It was the way she curled against you at night, the way she brushed her fingers through your hair absentmindedly, the way she looked at you like you were the most valuable thing in the world. And for someone who had spent her life chasing the thrill of the steal, she found that nothing compared to the way you whispered her name in the quiet.

- Felicia Hardy was not a hero. She was not safe, she was not predictable. But when it came to you, she was something else entirely. Devoted. Fierce. Unrelenting. And if the past ever tried to take you from her, if anyone dared to hurt you again, they would learn—The Black Cat does not share. And she never lets go.

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen was not a man easily shaken. He had seen horrors beyond imagination, had faced gods and monsters and lived to tell the tale. But when he saw the way you flinched at anger, the way your breath came too fast at sudden movement, he felt something inside him break. This? This was worse than any magic, worse than any curse. Because this was something human.

- He was not naturally gentle—not in the way others were. He was sharp, impatient, his mind always ten steps ahead. But with you, he learned. He softened his voice, measured his tone. He let you see his hands before he touched you, let you know where he was before he moved. He was deliberate in his care, never careless, never reckless.

- But he was also merciless. He did not tolerate those who harmed the innocent, and when he found out about your past, about the people who had made you this way—he acted. Not with violence, not with rage, but with something worse. A quiet, inescapable curse. A twist of fate that ensured they would never hurt anyone again.

- He wasn’t always great with comfort, wasn’t always great with words. But when the past gripped you too tightly, when you couldn’t breathe through the weight of it, he did what he did best—he protected. He cast wards around your mind, spells to soothe your fear. And when even magic wasn’t enough, he simply held you, his voice low and certain as he murmured, "You are safe. You are mine. And nothing will ever hurt you again."

- Stephen Strange was a sorcerer, a man who wielded the very fabric of the universe. But for you, he was something simpler—home. And if anyone thought they could take that from you, if the past ever dared to reclaim you, they would learn, in the most painful of ways, that Doctor Strange does not give second chances.

Namor

- Namor was not a gentle man. He was the ocean itself—vast, untamed, merciless when necessary. But when he learned of your past, when he realized the horrors you had endured at the hands of those who should have protected you, something inside him darkened. He had always known the cruelty of the surface world, had witnessed the rot that festered in its people, but to know that you—his beloved—had suffered beneath their hands? It ignited a rage deeper than the Mariana Trench.

- Yet, despite his nature, despite his storms, Namor was careful with you. He had never been one to temper himself for anyone, had never felt the need to soften his edges. But with you, he became something else. His voice, once sharp as the tridents he wielded, became measured in your presence. He moved with intention, never sudden, never careless. And if you flinched—if the ghosts of your past tried to drag you back—his hands would hover near but never touch, his eyes searching yours, waiting for permission. For you to reach for him.

- He did not speak empty reassurances, did not offer hollow words of comfort. Instead, he made promises. Promises backed by the weight of his throne, by the power of Atlantis itself. "No one will ever harm you again," he vowed, his voice like the tides—endless, absolute. "Not while I breathe. Not while I reign." And Namor was not a man who broke his vows. If he ever saw the ones who had hurt you, if they still drew breath, he would ensure that breath was stolen from their lungs, swallowed by the sea itself.

- But love with Namor was not only protection; it was devotion. It was the way he brought you to Atlantis, let you stand beside him, let the world see that you were his. It was the way he lifted you above even his own people, a mortal among gods, and dared anyone to question your place by his side. And when nightmares clawed at your mind, when fear crept into your bones, he would hold you—truly hold you, as if anchoring you to the present, reminding you that you were safe. That you were his.

- Namor was not a gentle man. But for you, he became something he had never been before. Patient. Steady. And if the past ever tried to reclaim you, if the wounds of your childhood ever bled anew, he would remind the world—The ocean does not forget. And it does not forgive.

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny had been to hell and back—literally. He had seen damnation, had felt the weight of chains, the burn of brimstone. But none of it compared to the rage that ignited in his chest when he learned what had been done to you. You didn’t have the scars he did, not the kind that burned in the shape of a demon’s touch, but you had scars all the same—ones that ran deep, ones that made you flinch at raised voices and sudden movements. And for that, he would never forgive the world.

- He was rough around the edges, hardened by a life that had never been kind. But around you, he softened—not in a way that made him weak, but in a way that made you safe. His voice never rose in anger, his hands never moved too fast. He always made sure you knew where he was before he touched you, always gave you the space to come to him. He wasn’t a gentle man, but for you, he learned to be careful.

- But Johnny was also vengeful. He didn’t believe in letting monsters walk free. When he found out who had hurt you, the Ghost Rider stirred in his chest, the flames of vengeance licking at his bones. He never told you what happened to them—only that they were gone, their souls left to answer for what they had done. And if the nightmares still came, if the past still clawed at you, he would pull you against him, let the warmth of his fire chase away the cold.

- He wasn’t good with words, wasn’t good with comfort. But when your breath hitched in fear, when memories turned your nights into something unbearable, he was there. He let you cling to him, let you bury your face in his chest, his arms steady and strong around you. And when the worst of it passed, when the ghosts of your past finally loosened their grip, he would press a kiss to your hair and murmur, "Ain't nobody hurtin’ you again. Not while I’m around."

- Johnny Blaze had been cursed, had been broken, had been forced to walk through hell itself. But when it came to you, he was something else. Steady. Safe. And if the past ever came for you again, if the people who had hurt you ever dared to resurface, they would learn—painfully, mercilessly—that the Ghost Rider does not forgive.

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie had never trusted the world. It had chewed him up, spit him out, left him hollow and angry. But when he met you, when he saw the way you carried yourself—beautiful, but always guarded—he recognized the same war in your eyes. And when he learned why, when he pieced together the way you flinched at raised voices, the way you braced for impact at sudden movement, something inside him snapped.

- Venom reacted first, a growl rumbling from deep within his chest, a protective rage Eddie had never quite felt before. "Who hurt her?" the symbiote demanded, its voice a low, dangerous snarl in his mind. And Eddie, for once, didn’t try to hold Venom back. Because for the first time in his life, he had something worth protecting.

- Eddie wasn’t a good man. He had tried to be once, had tried to play by the rules, but the world had beaten that out of him. And when it came to you, when it came to them, the ones who had hurt you—there were no rules. He never told you what he did, never let you see the mess he made of them. But he came back to you with blood on his hands and nothing but gentleness in his touch.

- Venom became your shadow, an unseen protector that never strayed far. "We will keep you safe," the symbiote would whisper to you in the dead of night, its voice low and almost affectionate. Eddie wasn’t much better—he was obsessive in his care, possessive in the way he made sure you always knew you were his. Not in a way that suffocated, but in a way that promised—no one will ever hurt you again.

- Eddie Brock was not a hero. He was not kind, not merciful. But for you? He was yours. And if the world ever thought to take you from him, to drag you back into the darkness you had escaped, it would learn the hard way that Venom does not share.

T'Challa (Black Panther)

- T'Challa had spent his life protecting his people, had spent years ensuring that no harm befell Wakanda. But when he learned of your past, of the pain you had suffered, it was the first time he had ever felt helpless. Because this was a war that had already been fought, a battle whose scars could not be undone. And for all his knowledge, all his power, he could not rewrite history. He could only stand beside you in its aftermath and swear that you would never face such suffering again.

- He was a man of control, of precision, but around you, he became something softer. His movements were measured, his tone always gentle. He never raised his voice near you—not in anger, not in command—because he had seen the way sharp tones made your breath catch, had felt the way sudden movements made you stiffen. And T'Challa was not a man who ignored the unspoken. He adapted, not out of obligation, but because he loved you. And love, to him, meant understanding.

- But there was also fire in his love. A quiet, unshakable wrath that burned beneath his skin when he thought of those who had hurt you. He did not believe in cruelty, did not believe in striking down those who were weak. But if your abusers still lived, still walked, he would make certain they never did so again. Not through violence, not through blood—no, T’Challa was smarter than that. He would dismantle their lives piece by piece, until they had nothing. Until they felt, for the first time, what it meant to be powerless.

- But his vengeance was not the weight he placed on your shoulders. With you, he was light. His love was the kind that wrapped around you in quiet moments, the kind that whispered through fingertips grazing your skin, through the warmth of his presence beside you. He did not try to fix what had been broken—he simply stood beside you, unwavering. And when the nights were long, when the memories clawed at your mind, he would hold you against his chest and murmur, "You are not alone. You will never be alone again."

- T’Challa was a king. A warrior. A man who bore the weight of a nation on his shoulders. But when it came to you, he was something else entirely. A protector. A lover. A promise. And if the past ever tried to take you from him, if the shadows of your childhood ever threatened to return, he would remind the world—The Black Panther does not bow. And he does not forget.

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra had never believed in softness. Her world had been carved from blood, from betrayal, from the understanding that love was often just another weapon waiting to be used against you. But with you, everything changed. Because when she learned of your past, when she realized the depths of the pain you had endured, it was the first time in her life that she wanted to protect something—not for duty, not for advantage, but for love.

- She was sharp edges and honed steel, but for you, she became something different. She learned your triggers, memorized them like she would a target’s weaknesses. She moved differently around you—not with hesitation, but with intent. She never raised her voice, never made a move she knew would unsettle you. And if you ever flinched, if the ghosts of your childhood ever tried to pull you back, she would wait. Not with frustration, not with pity, but with the steady patience of a woman who had spent her life navigating war zones.

- But Elektra was still Elektra. And if she ever saw the people who had hurt you, they would cease to exist. Not metaphorically. Not in some abstract, distant way. She would erase them from the world, make them disappear in the only way she knew how. And she would never tell you. Because she knew you—knew that despite everything, there was still goodness in you, still kindness that the world had not managed to steal. And she would not let her darkness stain that.

- But her love was not just vengeance. It was fierce devotion, the kind that bound itself to your bones and refused to let go. She did not whisper reassurances, did not offer empty comfort. Instead, she showed you. In the way she stood between you and the world, in the way she let her guard down in your presence, in the way she let you touch her scars—both the ones on her skin and the ones hidden deeper. With you, she was not the assassin, not the warrior. She was simply yours.

- Elektra did not believe in softness. But for you, she learned. And if the past ever tried to take you, if the wounds of your childhood ever bled anew, she would ensure one thing—The world may have failed you once. But it will never touch you again.

Muse

- Muse was not a man of warmth, nor was he a man of comfort. He was a creature of chaos, an artist who carved beauty from suffering, who found divinity in destruction. Yet, when he learned of your past, when the remnants of your childhood bled into the present, he did not respond with words—Muse was never a man of words. Instead, he listened, in his own twisted way, tilting his head like a predator considering its prey. Not out of cruelty, not out of disinterest, but because he was fascinated—not by your pain, but by you. By the fact that you had endured.

- His movements, normally erratic and unpredictable, shifted in your presence. He never made sudden gestures near you, never raised his voice—though his voice was never loud to begin with. And though he lacked the morality most others possessed, he understood something primal about fear, about trauma. He had seen it in the eyes of those who had stared too long into the abyss before he ended them. And so, when your past clawed at your mind, when memories threatened to drown you, Muse would simply be there—unmoving, silent, an ever-present shadow beside you.

- But Muse was still Muse. And when he realized the ones who had hurt you were still out there, still breathing, he could not fathom why you had let them live. You may have been content to let the past remain buried, but he was not. He was an artist, and what better canvas than the flesh of those who had dared to break what was his? He never told you what he did. Never let you see the grotesque poetry he left behind. But if your abusers began disappearing, one by one, if whispers of horrors filled the underworld, you would know. And Muse? He would only tilt his head and smile.

- But it was not only destruction that defined his love—it was obsession. The way his fingers would trace your features, as if memorizing every inch of you, as if you were the only masterpiece worth preserving. The way he would sit in silence, sketching, painting, creating you over and over again as if he could capture you, keep you forever. The way he would stare—unblinking, unwavering—not with judgment, not with pity, but with a reverence so deep it was almost worship.

- Muse did not love like others. His love was twisted, fractured, something neither holy nor entirely damned. But in his own way, he was constant. And if the past ever tried to take you, if the shadows of your childhood ever reached for you again, he would remind the world—Pain is temporary. But art? Art is eternal.

Victor von Doom (Dr. Doom)

- Doom did not tolerate weakness—not in himself, not in others. But when he learned of your past, when he saw the way you flinched at anger, the way fear flickered in your eyes at the wrong tone, he did not see weakness. He saw injustice. And Doom did not tolerate injustice.

- He did not ask questions—he did not need to. The knowledge of what had been done to you came to him through his own means, through whispers and shadows. And once he knew, once he understood, he acted with the precision of a man who had never allowed an insult to go unanswered. The ones who had hurt you ceased to exist—not just physically, but entirely. Their names were erased, their legacies burned, their very existence reduced to nothing.

- Doom was not a man of softness, but with you, he was something close. His voice never rose in your presence, his movements were deliberate, measured. He did not comfort—he protected. He ensured you were untouchable, invulnerable. He built walls around you, not to keep you in, but to keep the world out. And if that meant drenching the earth in blood, so be it.

- He was not affectionate in the way others were. He did not whisper reassurances, did not soothe with words. But when you trembled, when memories wrapped around your throat like chains, he was there. He would tilt your chin up, force you to meet his gaze, and state—simply, factually—"You are Doom’s. And Doom does not allow his to suffer."

- Victor von Doom was a tyrant, a ruler, a man feared by nations. But when it came to you, he was something else. A shield. A weapon. A god. And if anyone, anyone, thought to take what was his, they would learn—painfully, excruciatingly—that Doom does not forgive.

Peter Quill (Star-Lord)

- Peter had spent his life running—from responsibility, from the past, from the weight of loss. But he couldn’t run from this. He couldn’t run from the way you flinched at sudden movement, the way your breath hitched when voices rose too loud. And when he learned why—when he learned what had been done to you—his usual easygoing demeanor cracked.

- He wasn’t like the others—he wasn’t ruthless, wasn’t cruel. But he was protective. And when he found out about the people who had hurt you, he didn’t let it go. He didn’t let them go. He wasn’t a killer, not by nature, but for you? He would make an exception. He didn’t tell you what happened—only that they wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

- Peter wasn’t always great at dealing with feelings. He was better with jokes, with distractions. But he was attentive. If he saw the past creeping up on you, if he saw the way your hands trembled, he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t pry. He’d just pull you into some ridiculous adventure, make you laugh until you forgot, if only for a moment, that the past even existed.

- And when that wasn’t enough, when the weight of it all settled too heavily on your shoulders, he would hold you. No words, no reassurances—just warmth, just presence. And when you finally pulled away, when the worst of it had passed, he would grin and say, "Y’know, babe, I don’t say this lightly, but… if you ever need someone to be space dust, I got your back."

- Peter Quill was not perfect. He was reckless, immature, sometimes a little too much. But for you, he was something else. He was home. And if the past ever came knocking, if the people who had hurt you ever thought to reclaim you, they would learn that Star-Lord never lets go of what’s his.

Nova (Richard Rider)

- Richard Rider had seen suffering. He had seen entire planets crumble, had watched as entire civilizations were snuffed out like dying embers. But when he learned of your pain, of the horrors you had endured at the hands of those who should have loved you, it was different. Because this wasn’t war, wasn’t some inevitable cosmic tragedy—this was personal. This was something that had been done to you, something that had shaped the person he loved. And he didn’t know how to handle that.

- He had always been brash, reckless, loud—but for you, he tried. He learned not to raise his voice around you, even when frustration burned in his throat. He learned to move slower, to be gentle, even when every instinct told him to rush in, to act. And when you flinched—when old wounds resurfaced and you expected anger, expected punishment—he would stop, hands raised, eyes wide with something raw. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here. No one's gonna hurt you. Not ever again." And he meant it.

- But Nova had never been good at stillness. He needed action, needed to do something. And the knowledge that the people who had hurt you were still out there? It ate at him. He wasn't like Daredevil, wasn't some brooding vigilante lurking in the shadows—he was Nova. And that meant he could go anywhere. It meant that if he ever found them, if he ever got so much as a whisper of their location, he would ensure they never so much as breathed in your direction again. He wouldn’t kill them—he wasn’t that kind of man—but he would make damn sure they wished he had.

- But love with Richard was not only protection—it was light. It was the way he made you laugh, the way he insisted on making you laugh, even when the weight of your past threatened to pull you under. It was the way he wrapped you in his arms, warm and solid, a barrier between you and the rest of the universe. It was the way he kissed you—soft when you needed gentleness, fierce when he needed to remind you that you were here, that you were his, that you were alive.

- Richard Rider had seen entire worlds burn. But he had never fought for anything as fiercely as he fought for you. And if the past ever tried to reclaim you, if the wounds of your childhood ever bled anew, he would remind the universe—There’s not a single star out there worth more than the person I love. And I will tear the cosmos apart before I let them suffer again.

[castlesrp]

Face Claim List

Below the cut, you will find our list of face claims featured on our canon list. Enjoy this sneak peak at what is coming your way when the canon lists start being released this week!

FC List:

Abigail Cowen Aishwarya Rai Bachchan Amita Suman Amy Adams Ana de Armas André De Shields Andrew Garfield Angela Bassett Anna Kendrick Anne Hathaway Anthony Anderson Anthony Mackie Anya Chalotra Anya Taylor Joy Aja Naomi King Avan Jogia Avantika Audra McDonald Austin Butler Beanie Feldstein Ben Barnes Beyoncé BD Wong Bette Midler Caleb McLaughlin Camila Mendes Catherine O'Hara Charles Melton Chiwetel Ejiofor Chloe Bennet Chloe Bailey Christina Hendricks Christina Nadin Chrissy Metz Cody Christian Constance Wu Courtney Eaton Dakota Johnson Danai Gurira Daniel Ezra Daniel Wu Danny Trejo David Harbour Deepika Padukone Denzel Washington Dev Patel Diana Silvers Diane Keaton Dianna Agron Dove Cameron Dylan O'Brien Eddie Redmayne Eiza González Emily Alyn Lind Eva Longoria Ewan McGregor Fan Bingbing Felix Mallard Florence Pugh Froy Gutierrez Gabrielle Union Gemma Chan George Takei Gillian Anderson Gina Rodriguez Gina Torres Hailee Steinfeld Halle Bailey Harrison Ford Harry Shum JR Harry Styles Henry Cavill Hero Fiennes Tiffin Hunter Schafer Hugh Jackman Idris Elba J. Cameron-Smith Jacob Artist Jacob Elordi Jameela Jamil James McAvoy Jamie Chung Jamie Lee Curtis Jasmin Savoy Brown Jason Momoa Jason Sudekis Jean Smart Jeff Goldblum Jeffrey Wright Jenna Ortega Jensen Ackles Jesse Williams Jessica Chastain JK Simmons Joe Locke John Boyega John Cho John Krasinski Jon Hamm Jonathan Bailey Jordan Connor Jordan Peele Julianne Moore Justice Smith Kate Winslet Kathryn Hahn Kathryn Newton Keanu Reeves Keith Powers Keke Palmer Kerry Washington Kit Connor [1] Kit Connor [2] KJ Apa Kristen Bell Kumail Nanjiani Lana Condor Laura Harrier Lauren Ridloff Leonardo DiCaprio Letita Wright Lili Reinhart Liv Hewson Logan Browning Logan Lerman Loretta Devine Lupita Nyong'o Mädchen Amick Madelyn Cline Madison Bailey Mahershala Ali Manny Jacinto Manny Montana Margot Robbie Mark Consuelos Mark Hamill Mario Lopez Mason Gooding Maude Apatow Megan thee Stallion Melanie Lynskey Melissa Barrera Michael Cimino Michael Evans Behling Michael Fassbender Michael Pe��a Michael Shannon Michelle Yeoh Morgan Freeman Naomi Scott Natalia Dyer Natasha Liu Bordizzo Nina Dobrev Noah Centineo Normani Octavia Spencer Olivia Coleman Olivia Rodrigo Oscar Isaac Paul Rudd Pedro Pascal Phoebe Deynover Phoebe Tonkin Phylicia Rashad Priyanka Chopra Rachel Weisz Rachel Zegler Rahul Kohli Reese Witherspoon Regé-Jean Page Renee Rapp [1] Renee Rapp [2] Riz Ahmed Robert Pattinson Robert Downey JR Rome Flynn Rosamund Pike Rose Byrne Rudy Pankow Ryan Gosling Ryan Guzman Ryan Reynolds Sadie Sink Sam Claflin Samantha Logan Samara Weaving Sandra Bullock Sandra Oh Sara Ramirez Sarah Jeffrey Sarah Paulson Sebastian Stan Selena Gomez Sigourney Weaver Simu Liu Shawn Mendes Skeet Ulrich Sophia Ali Sophia Bush Sophie Turner Sonam Kapoor Sophie Thatcher Sterling K. Brown Steve Martin Steven Yeun Storm Reid Sydney Sweeney [1] Sydney Sweeney [2] Taika Waititi Tati Gabrielle Taraji P. Henson Taron Egerton Taye Diggs Taylor Zakhar Perez Ted Danson Timothée Chalamet Thomas Doherty Tom Blyth Tom Ellis Tom Hardy Tom Holland Tony Goldwyn Tyler James Williams Tyler Posey Uzo Adubo Victoria Pedretti Viola Davis Whoopi Goldberg Wolfgang Novogratz Will Smith Willem Dafoe William Jackson Harper Winona Ryder Winston Duke Yasmin Finney Zayn Malik Zendaya Zoey Deutch

[phantomstatistician]

Saturday Status Update

REQUESTS: CLOSED

The wait time for a request is: 62 working days

Upcoming charts (if the sample size is large enough):

Arcane - Mel Medarda

Fire Emblem - Nowi

Jujutsu Kaisen - Utahime lori

Ben 10 - Ben Tennyson

A Good Girl's Guide For Murder - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

The Fallout (2021) - 10 most popular ships (AO3), Crossovers

Digimon - Daisuke\Davis

Project SEKAI - Mafuyu Asahina

Monster High - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

ReBoot (1994 – 2001) - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Pacific Rim (2013) - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Lab Rats - Bree, Chase

Lab Rats Elite Force - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Victorious - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Pokemon - 10 most popular Pokemon

The Amazing Digital Circus - Pomni

Ninjago - 10 most popular platonic ships (AO3)

Danganronpa - AO3 big trigger warnings, Tanaka Gundham

Halloween Horror Nights - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Invincible - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Blue Lock - 10 most popular characters (AO3), Isagi Yoichi

Heaven Official's Blessing - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Legend of Zelda - Ganon, Ganondorf

Miraculous Ladybug - 10 most popular OT3s (AO3)

Final Fantasy XIII - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Star Trek - 10 most popular series within Star Trek, Captain Archer, Captain Pike

Detroit: Become Human - Leo Manfred (all fics and English-only fics)

Broadchurch - Alec Hardy

Maria-sama ga Miteru - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey

One Piece - Crocodile

Warcraft - Sylvanas

Addams Family - 10 most popular tags in the Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair relationship tag (AO3)

Darna - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

That '90s Show - 10 most popular ships (AO3), 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Batman - Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Yellowjacket - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Grace & Frankie - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Futurama - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Andor - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Star Wars - Cassian Andor

Lesbian Character (tag) - 10 most popular ships (AO3), 10 most popular fandoms (AO3)

Character X Reader - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Link Click - 10 most popular tags (AO3)

Hamilton - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Once Upon a Time - 10 most popular ships (AO3), 10 most popular tags (AO3)

Inglorious Basterds - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Nevertheless - 10 most popular ships (AO3), 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Homestuck - 10 most popular ships (4/13/16 to present) (AO3), 10 most popular tags (4/13/16 to present) (AO3)

Have a more elaborate request?  Or want to jump the queue?  Or you want to support me as a content creator?  Buy me a Kofi!

[afaims100arrowversefavs]

My 250 Favorite Arrowverse Episodes: Part 3: 200-176

Taken from „Arrow“, „The Flash“, „Supergirl“, „Legends of Tomorrow“, „Constantine“, „Black Lightning“, „Batwoman“, „Stargirl“ and Season 1-3 of „Superman & Lois“:

In honor of Seaosn 4 of "Superman & Lois" being the end of the Arrrowverse, the end of DCTV like we knew it and the end of The CW like we knew it, a final time before the final season all Seasons ends of all the 250 best Arrowverse Episodes (according to me):

I did include "Stargirl" this time, since it has as much connection as "Superman & Lois" to the rest of the Arrowverse, but One Hit Shows like "Gotham Knights" and "Naomi" (anyone still remember this one?) are not on this list, neither are Arrowverse unrelated DC shows:

200. The One with the Nineties (The Flash 7x6)

The One in which: Cisco and Chester get stuck in die 90s.

139, Written by: Kelly Wheeler, Emily Palizzi, Directed by: Jeff Byrd

199. Menagerie (Supergirl 4x12)

The One in which: Pamela discovers a new form of headwear much to our heroes dismay.

77, Written by: Robert Rovner, Daniel Beaty, Greg Baldwin, Directed by: Stefan Pleszczynski

198. Grinning from Ear to Ear (Batwoman 1x14)

The One in which: Dueala his issues, so has Sophie.

14, Written by: Denise Harkavy, Directed by: Michael Blundell

197. The Flash is born (The Flash 1x6)

The One in which: Barry gets revenge on his childhood bully.

6, Written by: Jaime Paglia, Chris Rafferty, Directed by: Millicent Shelton

196. The Legion of Doom (Legends of Tomorrow 2x10)

The One in which: Phil gets kidnapped by the Legion of Doom.

26, Written by: Phil Klemmer, Marc Guggenheim, Directed by: Eric Laneuville

195. Don’t Run (The Flash 4x9)

The One in which: Caitlin gets kidnapped and Barry locked in.

78, Written by: Sam Chalsen, Judalina Neira, Directed by: Stefan Pleszczynski

194. Land of the Lost (Legends of Tomorrow 2x13)

The One in which: Amayas pets a T-Rex while Sara visits Rip's head.

29. Written by: Keto Shimizu, Ray Utanarchitt, Directed by: Ralph Hemecker

193. Attack on Central City (The Flash 3x14)

The One in which: Gorillas attack Central City.

60, Written by: Benjamin Raab, Deric A. Hughes, Todd Helbing, Directed by: Dermott Downs

192. Love is a Battlefield (The Flash 6x11)

The One in which: Valentine’s Day and mind reading flowers dominate Date Night.

125, Written by: Kelly Wheeler, Jeff Hersh, Directed by: Sudz Sutherland

191. Livewire (Supergirl 1x4)

The One in which: Leslie wants to skin a Cat.

4, Written by: Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, Caitlin Parrish, Directed by: Kevin Tancharoen

190. Fadeout (Arrow 8x10)

The One in which: Oliver Queen is dead.

170, Written by: Marc Guggenheim, Beth Schwartz, Directed by: James Bamford

189. Beyond Redemption (Arrow 4x4)

The One in which: Sara is back but not in good way and there is police corruption going around.

73, Written by: Beth Schwartz, Ben Sokolowski, Directed by: Lexi Alexander

188. Pilot (Arrow 1x1)

The One in which: Oliver Queen is alive.

1, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg, Directed by: David Nutter

187. The Good, the Bad and the Cuddley (Legends of Tomorrow 3x18)

The One in which: Beebo fight a Demon.

51, Written by: Marc Guggenheim und Phil Klemmer, Directed by: Dermott Downs

186. Draw back your Bow (Arrow 3x7)

The One in which: The Arrow has a stalker and love is all around us.

53, Written by: Wendy Mericle, Beth Schwartz, Directed by: Rob Hardy

185. Suicide Squad (Arrow 2x16)

The One in which: Dig meets Task Force X.

39, Written by: Keto Shimizu, Bryan Q Miller, Directed by: Larry Teng

184. Uprising (Arrow 3x12)

The One in which: Team Arrow has to save the city without Oliver’s help.

58, Written by: Beth Schwartz, Brian Ford Sullivan, Directed by: Jesse Warn

183. Years End (Arrow 1x9)

The One in which: Oliver wants to bring Christmas back and the Dark Archer is having fun.

9, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg, Directed by: John Dahl

182. The Dress (Superman & Lois 3x9)

The One in which: Lois wants to give a away a certain dress.

39, Written by: Kristi Korzec, Directed by: Stephen Maier

181. Armageddon Part 1 (The Flash 8x1)

The One in which: Ray visists Central City and Barry meets a hater.

152, Written by: Eric Wallace, Directed by: Eric Dean Seaton

180. Last Sons of Krypton (Superman & Lois 1x15)

The One in which: Brotherly love is not what happens here.

15, Written by: Kristi Korzec, Michael Naducci, Brent Fletcher, Todd Helbing, Directed by: Tom Cavanagh

179. My Name is Oliver Queen (Arrow 3x23)

The One in which: Oliver is victorious and drives off in the sun-set.

69, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, Marc Guggenheim, Jake Coburn, Directed by: John Behring

178. The Calm (Arrow 3x1)

The One in which: Oliver and Felicity try to go on date and Ray Palmer is introduced.

47, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, Marc Guggenheim, Jake Coburn, Directed by: Glen Winter

177. Legends of Today/Legends of Yesterday (The Flash 2x8/Arrow 4x8)

The Ones in which: The Hawks and Vandal Savage make time travel necessary.

Part 1: The Flash 2.8/31, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, Aaron and Todd Helbing, Directed by: Ralph Hemecker, Part 2: Arrow 4.8/77, Written by: Greg Berlanti, Marx Guggenheim, Brian Ford Sullivan, Directed by: Thor Freudenthal

176. Pilot 1+2 (Legends of Tomorrow 1.1-2)

The Ones in which: Rip Hunter recruits a bunch of losers to become legends.

1&2, Written by: Marc Guggenheim, Phil Klemmer, Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisgberg, Directed by: Glen Winter

[egrets-not-regrets]

Dandelions and Yarrow (1)

Dandelions and yarrow are both tough, hardy weeds that can grow under harsh conditions.

Alcyon (chaos Iron Warrior) makes the mistake of nearly breaking his bond with Amelia, his bonded human.

Author’s Note: Chapter One >>>>> Next Chapter

TW: smut, noncon, dubcon, angst. This chapter is all hurt, no comfort. You are warned.

Just a few points:

This takes place before Ben/Malaran “Orca” Blackspike storyline.

Amelia is bonded to Alcyon, a chaos Iron Warrior. These two share an intense bond that teeters on the point of becoming a mate bond.

Alcyon has a pretty good grasp of the english language. He usually communicates with Amelia in english and other Astartes in Gothic.

Thanks to @squishyowl for the divider image!

OCs: Alcyon (chaos Iron Warrior), Amelia Plover

Tagged: @shadowfirecat, @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts, @barn-anon, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual, @ms--lobotomy

The meaning of 'heartbreak’ had been all but foreign to him before, but now he understood what it meant as soon as he saw the shattered look in Amelia’s eyes directed at him. Alcyon knew that she had received the news about being banned from her son’s school. 

“Alcyon! Why did you do it? Why did you have to fight him? I told you not to!” Amelia didn’t know where to even start with him on this anymore. The news broke her. Meeting Ben at his school before her ex came to pick him up was the only way she could see her son.    

Crossing his arms, the chaos Iron Warrior bristled and gave a disgruntled huff, “I could have killed the Black Templar. By right of challenge, I would have won your boy back for you had they not stopped me.”

“But they did stop you from killing him and now we both are banned from Ben’s school!” Amelia’s temper rose. 

“You shouldn’t have challenged him! I told you repeatedly to not do this and make the situation worse! It’s not that simple!” she added angrily. Amelia had never argued with Alcyon like this. She never wanted to argue with him like this, but she needed him to see, to understand how much his fight with the Black Templar cost her. 

“How is it not that simple? We could have simply taken your son at any point and you can have him back”

“Human laws don't make it simple!” Amelia nearly yelled at him out of frustration.

“I am bonded to you! In the eyes of human law, I am, to some degree, responsible for you too! What they see is MY chaos Astartes going out of control, starting a fight, and nearly killing a loyalist Astartes at my son’s school!” Her heart hurt, her head hurt, she didn’t want to continue. Why couldn’t her Astartes understand this? 

The chaos Iron Warrior replied, “You don’t control me.” 

“Of course I don’t, but that’s not how the human lawmakers see it.” Amelia breathed a vexed sigh trying to calm down. This argument was getting tiresome, she couldn’t remember the number of times they’ve talked about this. She knew her Astartes had done this on her behalf but she warned him time and time again not to, “I don’t even know why we’re still arguing about this. It’s too late for that now.” She grimaced. 

Amelia straightened out the order that she held crumpled in her fist, despairing as she read through the damning letter again. What was she to do now?

“We’ll have another chance to get your son back.”

His words locked around her chest tightly. She grit her teeth, trying hard not to cry from the whirlwind of emotions inside, “We won’t have another chance. Even if there was, you won’t be helping me.”

She could hear Alcyon’s quiet growl building, “What did you say?”

Amelia whirled on him, eyes blazing with fury and angry tears sliding unchecked down her face, “I said, ‘Even if I had another chance, I won’t be asking you for help!’”

The volume in her voice rose as she continued, “You lost my last chance to see Ben again, because you didn’t listen! How could I even trust you to not mess up next time?!” 

“Mess up?” Alcyon snapped at her, “Mess up?! I only took action because you kept crying about being stopped at every turn because of the laws and that damned family of his!”

“That’s exactly why we couldn’t meet them with violence! Because they are spiteful enough that they will throw the law at us and now they have the excuse of saying you are a danger to Ben due to your fight with his father’s Black Templar. Moreover, the law will always be biased against chaos Astartes and you are no exception! Why couldn’t you understand that?!”

Alcyon’s frustration grew the more Amelia said. It wasn’t his fault that the Black Templar and that family of hers kept her son away. He was the one who had supported her from the time she had accepted that he had bonded to her. And now she didn’t want his help because he made this one mistake? 

He sneered, “Don’t you dare blame me for that son of Dorn keeping your son away from you.”

“You are partially to blame! If you didn’t fight and nearly kill him, we wouldn’t be banned from the school! I wouldn't be in this mess!” she spat, too emotionally exhausted to keep her temper in check. 

“Then you shouldn’t have kept complaining about the inept human laws that you like to play with! At least I did something about it!” the Iron Warrior retorted.

Her anger boiled over, “I didn’t need you to do anything about it! I didn’t want you to do anything about it! Sometimes I wonder why I’m even bonded to you in the first place!” Amelia’s eyes widened and her expression turned pained, even she couldn’t believe the harsh words that came out of her mouth, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Ignoring her stuttered apology, Alcyon snarled back at her, “I didn’t ask to be bonded to you. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be bound to a simpering weakling like you!”

He knew that his words hurt. Judging by the agonized expression she wore, his words stabbed in all the right places. She didn’t want his help? He’s the one who’s taken action to get her son back! He’s the one who gave her the chance to visit her son again! How dare she be so ungrateful! Alcyon angrily ignored the voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to stop, that they won’t be able to walk back their words after this. So occupied by his resentment and anger, he couldn’t feel their bond slowly come apart, thread snapping by fragile thread.

Amelia felt her heart crack and regrets started to bleed from it. 

“I never asked for you to be bonded to me either. You could’ve left me alone, you should’ve stayed away!” She wiped her eyes angrily, “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up in my life!”

Another thread snapped. 

“You’re the one who accepted our bond! You wanted it! Had you not, you’d still be that lonely little human woman yearning for a big Astartes save her and warm her bed at night, because her own husband wouldn’t bother to fuck her!” Alcyon resentfully pointed out. 

Amelia glared at him, speechless with anger and mortification. 

“I heard what they said about you… the whore who prefers the company of chaos demons rather than her own family.” He sneered. 

“I do not…!” She spluttered in embarrassment, “I am not a whore!”

The Iron Warrior looked infuriatingly smug despite the hurt, “That’s not what you moaned when I fucked you.”

A few more threads loosened. 

Feeling humiliated beyond tears, Amelia growled low, “Get. Out.” 

“No. This place is mine as much as it is yours.” He replied stubbornly. 

“Fine. Then I’ll go! I can’t deal with you right now.” Amelia knew this was going nowhere and immediately yielded. She started walking away only to be roughly yanked back into place, plastered against the wall. Her arm, held tightly in his claw. Amelia froze, not daring to struggle lest the metal claw cut into her flesh. 

“I’m not done with you!” Alcyon growled. A dark desire in him wanted to see her fight back so he would have reason to scorch her in return. 

A number of threads singed and sizzled as it burnt away.

“What else do you want from me? To be thanked?” Amelia asked, indignation and hurt seeping into her voice. 

She snapped, “Well thank you for losing the last chance I have to see my son again!”

“Don’t take that tone with me!” He roared back.

Amelia screamed when Alcyon’s heavy metal claw slammed into the wall a few inches from her cheek. Sharp metal tips dug deep into the plaster; a stark frightening reminder of how dangerous Alcyon actually was. The red lenses on the chaos marine’s face glowed with a malignant energy as he loomed over her.  

“Good. You should remember to be afraid.” Alcyon leered at her, a sense of dark satisfaction washing over him as he watched terrified tears run down Amelia’s face. 

Another few threads broke. 

“You act as if this one mistake of mine is a world ending tragedy and wipes away everything else I had done for you!” He hissed disdainfully. 

Not even giving her a chance to reply, Alcyon continued, “Everything I had done up until now had always been for you! Always!” Spite and anger built in his chest, “And you dismiss me like some misbehaving pet?!”

“I never treated you like that! If you feel like I treat you like some pet, take off your collar then! Leave me! I can’t stop you!” She spat back, “I won’t stop you!”

She was right. He knew he could leave. He knew she couldn’t stop him. What could Amelia even do? She was such a weak creature. But something stopped him, did he actually want to leave? 

“We already said we don’t want to be bonded to each other. Then we don’t need to stay in whatever this.. this… whatever this is then!” Amelia angrily cried. 

To break this bond tethering him to Amelia’s existence seemed completely abhorrent to him. Even if he didn’t have a choice in who he was bonded to, the thought of her not wanting to stay by his side made Alcyon’s chest feel tight. 

“I can’t believe I loved you.” She said hoarsely, sorrow cracking through her voice, “I thought…”

Several more threads from the bond snapped.

His hearts shouldn’t have clenched like that when he heard her say it. The Iron Warrior dismissed the feeling with a scoff, “You’re delusional. There was never love. We are bonded. You are simply just mine.”

She glared at him through her tears, “We may be bonded, but I am not yours.”

That sentence echoed in his ear. 

More strands broke. 

“You don’t mean that.” Alcyon hissed through gritted teeth. The defiance in her words made something twist and shear inside. How dare she say that. She was his. She was his. Amelia was bonded to him and him only. She was his! That thought ran rampant in his mind.

“You don’t mean that.” The chaos marine suddenly pinned his human to the table, one hand trapping her wrists above her head, his teeth caressing her throat. Amelia cried out from the impact, her body spasmed in pain. 

“Tell me you don’t mean that.” He growled. Amelia idly wondered if Alcyon would tear her throat out if she told him otherwise. 

More threads strained and snapped. 

“Say it!” He snarled and bit down hard. 

Amelia mewled, her body instinctively reacting by arching into his. Instinctively wanting more. Her skin prickled at their heightened sensitivity. A weak moan escaped her as he sucked on the tender mark. 

“Tell me, Amelia. Tell me, you are mine. Your body certainly knows it.” She could feel him smirk against her flushed skin. She tried to bite back another whine at the heat and pressure of his body pressed flush to her own, her hips pushing back when he started rolling his hips against hers. It always started like this… she thought as her mind started to fog. 

Appalled at her own reaction, Amelia panicked. She twisted her hips away, bringing a knee up to push his body off her. Her arms strained to free themselves from the tight clasp of his hand.

She started screaming, “NO! Get off— mmngh!” He silenced her with a rough kiss, his tongue wrestling down her own. A frustrating rage in him grew at her defiance. She kept denying that she belonged to him. She was his as he was hers. They were bonded. He won’t allow her to deny the fact any longer. He’ll remind her who she is bonded to. 

“No.” The chaos marine sneered, his grip holding Amelia’s wrists together tightened, his claw grabbed her leg, easily moving it back to the side of his hips, forcing her to lay on her back facing him once more. She winced in discomfort. 

“Your words deny it, but your body and soul remembers. I will make you remember!” He angrily growled into her mouth, the vibration from it causing another unwanted arc of pleasure to course through her body. In one quick movement, Alcyon’s metal claw effortlessly shreds through her clothing. The torn clothes fell apart, leaving behind thin bleeding welts where his claw swiped against her bare torso. 

More threads were sliced from the bond. 

Amelia's eyes widened with fear as she started to struggle in earnest, “No! Alcyon! Let me g-!” His mouth was on hers again in an instant, cutting off her protests. She tried to turn her head away. He bit hard onto her bottom lip, warning her to be still. She whined in response before he promptly stole her breath again. 

“Stop, Alcyon! Please sto-!” Amelia begged as soon as their mouths parted. 

She could see every scar in detail around the lens implant as they stayed nose to nose, “Even if you deny it, you know that you’re mine.” Alcyon harshly whispered, “You will always be mine.”

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side before biting down hard onto an old mark, drawing blood. Amelia keened wordlessly, tears leaking from her eyes as the pain added to the heated pleasure within her own traitorous body. She knew that this was a natural reaction, but she couldn’t help but wish that her body didn’t betray her like this. 

With a pleased growl, the chaos Iron Warrior licked the blood from the wound then kissed her. An unbidden moan left her throat as the bitter iron salt of her blood passed between their tongues. 

“Your body is more honest isn’t it?” Alcyon laughs sardonically against her lips. He could smell his human’s arousal right when he pinned her under him, the heady scent getting stronger as he continued to mark her. His teeth nipped and worried her sensitive skin down toward her breast, soaking in all her involuntary gasps and twitching muscles as he laid his claim onto her flesh. 

Amelia flushed with shame and regret. She wished she had never had slept with Alcyon, if only so that he would not know her body as well as he did. She regretted that she allowed her relationship with the Iron Warrior to become this intimate. She regretted that she had fallen in love with him. 

More threads dissolved. 

He bit down hard onto her breast, his sharp teeth sinking into the soft tissue. Amelia bit her lip to stop another whine from escaping, her hands stiffened into claws as Alcyon’s tongue licked up the blood that had beaded up from the wound.  

He gave the same treatment to her other breast, further sucking and teething her nipple into a hard peak. 

“No..! Alcy— ohhhn!” Her throat was tight as she let out a strangled moan, her pussy clenching around nothing. Amelia flattened her back against the table and tried to curl into herself, trying to shirk away from his touch. The chaos marine let out a feral, displeased growl. He grabbed her thighs and slotted her roughly against him, forcing her legs to spread wide to accommodate for the width of his muscled bulk. His metal claw dug into her back, the pain forcing Amelia to arch her spine, pushing more of her breast into his mouth; her breath shuddering and her hips thrusting involuntarily, rubbing her aching core against his pelvis as he sucked and nipped bruises onto her sensitive flesh. 

“No more… please Alcyon.” Amelia begged.  Shame filled her being as she could feel her cunt becoming slick with her juices. 

Alcyon ignored her pleas and groaned at the scent of her deepened arousal mixed with the iron in her blood, his own cock hardening within his pants from rutting against her hot wet core. He could feel the twitches of her muscles and hear her near silent moans and involuntary gasps as Amelia tried desperately to stop reacting to his touch. He will make her fall. He will make her remember. 

This time he will leave his marks so others could see who she belonged to. Alcyon bit her neck again, sinking his teeth just below her jawline. 

Her shame and regret flashed into anger. “Stop it!!!” She snarled, whipping up a freed hand to strike his face. 

Alcyon caught her hand and roughly forced it onto the table again, “Say it, Amelia. Say that you are mine.” He demanded, his eye darkened with feral lust and possessiveness heavy in his voice. 

She was beautiful, pinned helplessly below him, glaring at him with rage simmering under the surface. He could see Amelia’s heightened pulse flutter underneath her fragile skin. Bruises forming where he marked over and blood beading out from marks that broke skin. Her breasts heaved as she struggled to steady her breathing.

Amelia bared her teeth at him in anger and contempt, “Leave me alone! I can’t stand the sight of you! I hate you.”

He felt it then. It was as if someone reached into his chest and grabbed a bundle of threads that made up the core of his bond and brutally ripped them out. Sharp agonizing pain stabbed into his hearts as each thread snapped and broke, as if they were once attached to them. Alcyon stared at her, reeling from the sudden shock of pain. Amelia took the chance to slip out from under him and ran into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. 

The chaos warrior shook himself out of it, that shock of pain quickly settling to a dull ache as resentment soon took over. Alcyon turned to follow his human when the shine of the intricate metal fish on the table caught his attention. It was a gift he made for Amelia that she treasured. Eyeing the fish figurine with spiteful hostility, he crushed it in his hand and flung it against the wall, shattering it into pieces. 

Amelia’s sobs were quiet and muffled, but even they couldn’t escape from his keen hearing. Every cell in his body was compelling him to respond to his bonded human’s sorrowful cries; to comfort her, to apologize, to rebuild the threads of the bond that’s been broken. Alcyon ground his teeth hard, fighting against the compulsion. The Iron Warrior ignored it all and stormed out of their home, slamming the door so hard it nearly took the door off its hinges. 

Alcyon was long gone by the time Amelia crept out from the bedroom. Teary-eyed, but fully dressed again, Amelia cautiously made her way back to the living room, still wary that the chaos warrior was still lurking somewhere in their home. More and more cracks formed in her heart as she looked at the evidence of their fight: the gouge marks in the wall, the scratch marks, the torn strips of her clothes that laid on the table. She whimpered and hissed when her own body reminded her of Alcyon’s cuts and bite marks on her. But that hurt couldn’t compare to heart wrenching pain when she found the shattered remnants of her beloved fish figurine. 

Amelia remembered Alcyon had made it for her: a beautiful and surprisingly intricate piece of art that came from his rough and metal hands. She loved it so much. It reminded her of her son’s favourite creatures… and what she mistakenly thought was Alcyon’s love for her. Tears started to roll down her cheeks again as she painstakingly picked up the remains, piece by shattered piece.  

A particularly sharp fragment of the fish sliced into her finger, the sudden shock of pain causing her already shaky hand to drop the pieces she just collected. Sliding down the wall, her hand fisted around the pieces that didn’t fall, Amelia curled into herself in anguish. Letting out a grief-stricken wail, she wept bitterly. 

[heartstoppermybeloved]

Joe Locke (Heartstopper season 2) Ben Hardy (Love at first sight) Cast Age And Real Life Partners Joe Locke#Heartstopper season2#Ben Hardy#Love at first sight#Cast Age And Real Life Partners. via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY1DJaUtI-s

[saturn-edits]

🏹 Ben Hardy black & white lockscreen + homescreen 🏹

→ like if you save/use

→ give credit if you repost

[sciapod]

I just watched Locke for the first time. Now I feel like how Tom looks here.

What an amazing movie. Absolutely 👌👌👌👌

[disasterdeacy]

What do you do when you’re on a 15 hour flight? This I guess.

[heartbeatofdrums]

Hiatus/Lock Screens

Hey guys, I’m sorry I’ve been on hiatus for so long, I’ve literally been so busy. I’m going to be honest, I’ll probably go back on hiatus soon, it all depends. I came back because I’ve been going through a super rough time lately, my dog of 12 years had to be put to sleep at the start of this week and it’s broken my heart, I needed some cheering up.

So, on the plus side, I’m making lock screens that feature either the Bohrap cast (themselves or as the band, or the original band members themselves. They can either be normal with whatever designs ideas you have, or they can be Halloween themed or other themed. Just put in your request with the dimensions of your phone size (preferably in pixels, eg. 750 x 1334 )

[phoenixwwitch]

I think I’m hilarious

[wackapedia]

Nightmares Are Dreams Too

A/n: this is the longest ive ever written. took me a week to think about this because i could never get some peace in this house lol

You were unpacking boxes all day and yet you still have trouble sleeping in your new house. You've just moved into a suburban home that’s too large for just you and your boyfriend, Ben Hardy. He insisted on buying it anyway because he's always dreamed of having an American home and because he said he's planing on expanding your family which of course made your heart flutter. 

Your eyes darted around the dark room as you shifted in your bed while your boyfriend slept soundly beside you. You tried to be as quiet as possible while trying to find a comfortable position. You hear Ben shift from his side and you winced, not intending to disturb him since he also had a day sorting out things and late at night he catches up reading some scripts. "Babe?" He spoke, voice rough from sleep, turning towards you. "I'm sorry. I cant sleep." You whispered. "S'alright babe i got you" he said as his hand travels up your thigh, his face buried itself in your neck leaving hot kisses. Ben knows exactly how to tire you out whenever you have trouble sleeping. After his suggested activity, it was safe to say that you slept like a baby through the night.

The next day, you woke up to a bright room alone. There were no curtains or blinds installed in your room yet so the sunlight streaked into your bed. You grabbed your phone to see that it was almost 12 noon. You hopped out of your bed, got dressed and headed downstairs, carefully dodging the boxes that littered the hallway. "Ben?" You called out but there was no answer. A plate of pancakes were left on the kitchen counter as well as a ripped cardboard with a note on it: "off to the hardware store & didn't wanna wake u <3 xoxo" "Ew." you jokingly said as you smiled and sat down to eat your pancakes. You and Ben spent the rest of the day arranging things around. The place starts to feel more like a home now that some books and photo frames are in place, Frankie's corner sorted out and the empty boxes are cleared out. You ordered pizza for dinner while browsing some photo albums, cleaned the kitchen, took a shower and went straight to sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. Ben kisses your forehead and leaves the bedroom. You were walking at the hallway outside your room. It was dark and cold. A You tried to turn on a lampshade but it wasn't plugged in. Light filtered from inside the supposed study room across your bedroom. "Ben?" You called out to your boyfriend. Suddenly, you heard a loud crash from downstairs followed by Frankie barking incessantly. You turned your back from the door and headed to the stairs when you saw a silhouette heading up. You picked up the lampshade to defend yourself. The footsteps grew louder and heavier, your breathing shorter, and your heart rate faster. You woke up with a jolt. "Baby wake up!" Ben was shaking you. You were in your room, sitting at the edge of your bed, your night lamp switched on to see your boyfriend's panicked face. You wiped your sweaty face with your hands. Ben exhaled as he sits down on the floor, resting his chin on your knee. "Are you alright? You were breathing really fast and sounded like you were choking so I woke you up." You remained silent, still trying to process your nightmare. "Do you want me to get you some water?" He asked. You nodded. "Alright. I'll be back." You moved further into the bed as Ben left. You can hear his footsteps fading in the hallway. Not long after, Frankie started barking causing panic from the nightmare to creep back. You immediately got up and ran downstairs while screaming for your boyfriend. Ben was startled to find you almost running into him in the kitchen. "Baby please calm down you're scaring me" he said as he catches you entering. "It felt so real Ben! There was someone in the house and Frankie was barking and I couldn't find you" you were crying. Ben gathered you in his strong arms and rubbed your back. "Shhh.. It was all just a dream okay? I'm here. I'm here." He said, swaying you as you started to calm down. He picked you up to sit on the kitchen counter and made you drink some water. Frankie came over to the kitchen and Ben picked him up, carrying him like a baby. "Were you worried about mommy too?" He asked the dog using a tiny voice that made you smile. It made him smile too. That night, Frankie was welcomed to your bed. All three of you slept soundly. The next couple of days were left to finishing up with unpacking and decorating. At night you still get some dreams but you didn't want to wake or worry Ben who often stayed up late as he continues to study some scripts. Your dream always starts the same way. You, walking in the hallway, hearing someone move around downstairs, muffled cries and loud crashing, and then silence. You return to your bedroom, and then you wake up in the middle of the night, alone in your bed. One night you couldn't bring yourself to go back to sleep so you stayed up downstairs and watched some television to keep yourself occupied. You slowly fell asleep on your new sofa.

"I actually had other ideas on christening that sofa.." Ben spoke as he placed a cup of coffee right under your nose. It was morning already.

"I'm sorry. I had nightmares again" you said as you grabbed the mug from Ben. "Its okay, babe." Ben replied as he kissed your head and walked toward the kitchen.

You sat up on the sofa as you watched the morning news. You turned the volume up as the news reporter was talking about two people going missing over the week. The missing persons were living a few miles from where you live. You feel yourself getting chills on how dangerous this neighborhood possibly is. The reporter was describing the suspect when suddenly the channel was switched to a football game. You turned your head to find Ben holding the remote.

"Hey I was watching that" you pouted.

"And add fodder to your nightmares? No way." He said. He had a point though.

Finally, you decided to hold a house party inviting a few of yours and Ben's friends. Lucy, Rami, Joe and Gwilym stayed until after the party was over because you all had a lot to talk about. You mentioned your nightmares to Lucy and Joe. Lucy was worried about it while Joe was being his funny self and said he'll buy you a baseball bat in case some idiot tried something. The night ended with you feeling a little buzzed from the champagne Rami kept handing to you. You were giggling as Ben helped you up the stairs to your bedroom. The folks left a few minutes ago and Ben decided to leave the mess to be cleaned up tomorrow. He tucked you in bed as you drifted to sleep.

The air was hot. The hallway was dark. By now, you've become accustomed to the setup of your new home. Accustomed to this nightmare. You kept walking, heading downstairs. The door to your basement was open. There was light flowing from there. You crossed the distance between the staircase to the kitchen through a small hallway leading to the basement. You knocked over a champagne bottle. The loud crash startled you. You pushed the shards to the corner using your foot as you continued walking to the basement. You took careful steps as you descended the unpainted wooden stairs.

There was someone else in your basement. You kept walking. You saw someone lying on a table in the middle of your basement. She was unconscious. She was hurt. You ran back upstairs. Heavy footfalls were close behind you. As you crossed the threshold between the basement and the hallway, you feel someone grabbing you from behind, covering your nose with a cloth, making you unconscious.

You woke up in your bed, small bits of sunlight slowly illuminating your bedroom. Your boyfriend was beside you, sleeping. You slowly sat up, wondering if was it indeed a dream or not. You quickly got off the bed, waking Ben in the process. You quickly headed downstairs to see if there were evidence of last night's memory.

"Babe, what's going on?" He called. You ignored him, your heart beating rapidly as you descended the stairs, crossing the kitchen. "Babe!" Ben continued trailing behind you. You were feeling nervous and mighty confused. You stopped at the kitchen counter, looking for shards of the bottle you supposedly broke last night.

There was nothing.

"Babe what are you doing?" Ben's voice was starting to sound angry. You were mumbling to him about last night's dream as you continued to look around for shards. Eventually, you gave up and headed to the basement door. You opened the door and descended down the stairs carefully, with only the light of the upstairs window to illuminate your way. At the bottom of the stairs you found the light switch. You flipped it and looked around the room.

It was empty.

Ben stopped in the middle of the stairs, looking at your distressed face.

You realized you were going crazy.

Tears started to form in your eyes as you looked at your boyfriend. You walked closer to him. "Ben. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You couldn’t stop apologizing as you walked closer to him. Ben lets go of a breath he was holding. "It was a nightmare and it felt so real! That there was a woman here and she was hurt and she wasn't breathing!" You kept crying as you hugged Ben who was standing in the middle of the stairs. The staircase gradually became brighter as the sun kept rising. You realized you were soaking Ben's shirt with tears. You gradually detached yourself to look at him. He kept a straight solemn face, not looking at you. "Ben I'm sorry. Please say something." You plead.

"Ben please say something!" You were interrupted when you felt a sting on your foot. You looked down to see a teardrop that had rolled from your face falling on your foot, crossing a wound you didn't remember. You crouched down to look closer, only to find another fresh wound. You remembered the shards of glass when you broke a bottle in your nightmare.

It wasn't a nightmare.

"It wasn't a dream.." you muttered to yourself. You looked up to Ben, who was also looking at your wound.

"What did you say?" Ben's voice sounded heavy. Suddenly you were afraid to look at him.

"It wasn't a dream. I broke a bottle last night and I might've cut myself with it. Ben someone was down here!"

"Baby, you were sleepwalking! You left the bed last night and I followed you to the kitchen where you broke a bottle. You didn't react to it and that’s when I realized you were sleepwalking so I carried you back to the bed!" Ben explained, panic painted all over his face.

"No I wasn't sleepwalking! You've only just came up with that excuse because you've never mentioned it since we woke up! I don't sleepwalk and there’s no way for me to sleepwalk because I was drinking last night! I should've slept through the night but I didn't. Because something was.... going on." You started yelling at Ben but your voice started to falter when your brain started to put two and two together.

The missing persons on TV, Waking up without Ben, his constant trip to the hardware, him staying up late at night... Realization started to sink into you.

"I never had those nightmares. They were real." You said, backing away from your boyfriend. Ben walked back up the stairs. You were afraid. He reached the top of the stairs and shut the basement door, the click of the lock audible from where you stood at the foot of the basement stairs.

 A/n: even i’m confused. What do u think? LET ME KNOOWW

[apricotparrotmemes]

half the Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) discourse is just a whole new generation of people finding out what a goddamn drama queen Roger Taylor is and that’s a great way to close out the year god bless

[radio-gay-gay]

Choose your fighter

[hollandroos]

Voice in my head: look at that cute seal! its cuter than Tom! leave it as your lockscreen! Other voice in my head: okay but listen, Tom is your husband and you love him more than you love those sea doggos

here’s a fix: seal as lockscreen, tom as homescreen ;)

[mrfahrenheit92]