#cw minor ptsd flashback

[kittysamzkewlz19]

Medusa Ex Makina

Chapter 7: The Witch's Brindle

Rated M for Mature

Warnings: Canon Typical Misogony, Minor PTSD Flashback (Toki)

Author’s Note: So I took a long hecking break from writing and finally came back with a vengeance. More mystery and a bit more character relationship building.

The smell of the ocean breeze brought Makina to a familiar setting, she had this dream a million times over. It was an island with a small coastal cave and a wide open ocean. She could hear the singing of whales and feel the grains of sand between her toes. The singer wore what looked like a velvet red dress that was ripped to knee length with rips and fly away threads. In every version of this dream, she could hear the sound of a piano. It played a sweet yet somber tune, its melody was mesmerizing as she began walking towards it. The sweet song came from the cave, but something felt different. For the first time in this strange recurring dream, she could hear a voice call out for her name. It was raspy, as if it was choking on something. But as she turned around to see who it was, she woke up. Makina sat up in her bed, her heartbeat began speeding up in irregular beats. ‘That dream is starting to get too real,’ she thought to herself. The raven hair singer opened her bedroom window shade, the bright morning sun sparkled down on her. She prayed that Murderface had kept his promise. 

As she walked down to the kitchen she passed by a familiar klokateer, the one she nicknamed Sango. Makina tapped on their left forearm and confessed to him what she had done the night before. “Just don’t tell anyone about it, ok? I just feel a bit guilty about it all.” 

“Don’t fret my lady, my lips will be sealed.” Sango placed their hand on top of Makina’s shoulder reassuring her. The klokateer gently pushed her out of the way so as to get on with their day. Sango looked back at her and gave a tiny half hearted wave. Makina nodded and anxiously began to make a pot of coffee. She knows what she did last night was far too drastic, even for her. Makina knew she could trust Toki with keeping such a secret, but the thought of Nathan getting mad at her was something she feared. Makina looked up to Nathan, as a fire that burned bright and warm in the darkest of times. His bellowing voice and mere stature gave Makina a sense of security. The image of his brutally disappointed face terrorized her mind. Her entire career, no, her entire life would be over before anything could begin to prosper. 

The sound of the drip coffee maker’s pump interrupted her thoughts, as it began making a gurgling noise signaling that the water was finished filtering through. Makina stood on her tiptoes and opened up the top cupboard. She couldn’t see everything that was in there, however a small black mug with the klokateer’s gear insignia caught her eye. Makina began to stretch up as much as she could, but was caught off guard to see Skwisgaar’s arm reach for the mug and handed it to her. Makina’s grip on the mug was loose as the ceramic almost slid out of her fingers. “Oh… Uh, thanks.” Makina said, as a light shade of pink flushed her cheeks. “Nexts times justs asks fors a steps stools.” Skwisgaar replied as he grabbed another mug off the shelf. He poured himself a cup of the coffee she had made and began to leave the kitchen. Makina silently hoped that he liked the brew, as she began to pour her own mug. After finding some leftover sugar packets and powdered cream, she searched for a teaspoon to stir with. 

Her mind began flooding with the strangeness of her dream. Who on earth was that calling to her? She found the spoon and began to mindlessly stir her coffee. “I mean I’ve never heard voices like that in my dream… but it sounded familiar…” Before she could ponder it further, Chester walked into the kitchen. It was oddly refreshing to see him so roughed up and not put together. He stared darts at Makina before pouring a cup of coffee. The raven haired singer sunk lower into her seat, bracing herself for getting chewed out like old times. “Morning, Medusa.” Chester said in a bitterly professional tone as he sat next to her. Makina looked into his eyes, his cold gaze and unfeeling attitude caught her off guard. “Morning.” she sheepishly replied.

"Got a busy day today."

“Since when?”

"Since today o' course. Even if you still haven't signed the contract. I want to get you started on recording, or at least writing your first one." Chester noted as he sipped his coffee. He brushed his fingers in his hair, straightening out the stray hairs. Makina squinted at him with suspicion, Chester was behaving as if yesterday’s altercation didn’t happen at all. “Hey… about last night I-”

"Eh, don't worry about it. I knew that Dethklok would be a right bunch before I walked through the door. No wonder you fit right in." he sneered as he stood up from his seat with the mug in hand. “I’ll see you in the studio in 10 minutes.” Chester declared as he passed by Pickles and Nathan. The Welshman gave a nod to them as he left for the studio. Nathan nodded back as he saw Makina with her head on the table. 

“Rough morning Medusa?” Questioned Pickles in a playful tone. Makina picked her head up, “I’m fine, just need a little perk up.” she lied as she took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee. “Want a bit of booze in your coffee kid?” Nathan asked cautiously, Makina nodded and he went into the cabinet. He grabbed the first bottle he could find, an irish whiskey and poured a bit into her mug. Makina took a sip as Nathan gently petted her hair, Makina tried to hide the corners of her mouth turning up with the mug. She felt like a little kid being soothed by her father. “Did Barker say something to you?” Pickles asked, “No, he’s just a fucking stiff robot. I gotta get ready for some studio stuff. If you wanna watch me flounder, I’ll be in the booth in 5.” Makina jokingly said as she stood from her seat and began exiting the kitchen. Nathan watched as Makina tensed up when she exited the kitchen. Something must have been plaguing her mind.

XxxX

Makina sat on the stool inside of the booth, as Chester put on his headphones. He turned a few knobs and flipped some switches. Curious as to see Makina sing again, Nathan quietly entered the studio and sat on the sofa. "Right, ready for today's sesh?” Makina hesitantly nodded and Chester pressed the record button. ‘How were they going to record without an instrumental track?’ Nathan thought. Makina took a deep breath and began belting out a series of words, singing in a way that Nathan couldn’t understand. Then the room got darker, it was happening again. The green aura, the ghost chain birdcage, the mysterious instrumental arrangement that began flooding the room. ‘How could Barker not see what’s happening around us?!’ Nathan shouted in his mind. The ghost chains began to inch closer to Chester, slowly wrapping around his neck till a shackle formed cuffing him. Nathan watched on, quietly grabbing his neck to make sure none of the chains slithered toward him. But something new began to occur, as she belted out the remaining notes of the chorus, a set of chains wrapped around her head and magically forming a dog muzzle with a chain that connected to Chester’s neck shackle. Nathan’s eyes widened with a sting of dread, in his mind he was desperately trying to connect the dots as to what was happening in front of him and why. 

"Stop, stop now!" Chester commanded, she begrudgingly did as she was told and in a cartoonish puff of smoke, all of the illusions vanished. "What was that? A G-flat for somethin'?"

“Yeah, and?”

"And you're flat, AND off rhythm by a few beats at least!" Chester said with a cocky tone, Makina rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Oh here we go, this is the asshat I know. Always stopping me before I reach the climax of a song!” 

“I wouldn't NEED to stop you if you were singin' it right! Try again! From the bridge!” Chester instructed. Makina gave an exasperated sigh, made an exaggerated shaking motion with her hands brushing off her frustration, and with a deep breath she began once again. All at once, Nathan was reminded of the fight the two had backstage at Doom-opolis. They were passionate, but with two strong personalities that can counterbalance each other. The hulking vocalist could easily see why the band structure didn’t work out too well for them. 

There was a slight creaking sound near the door, Nathan turned to see the other members of Dethklok wanted to see Makina sing again. He put a finger to his mouth and signaled the boys to walk in without disturbing the performance. The somber melody of Makina’s vocals were hypnotic, but then the room grew darker again. “Do we need to get a guy to fix the lighting?” Murderface whispered. “No the lights are- Oh wait, you haven’t seen the thing Makina does.” Pickles commented softly. “Whats things?” Toki asked in a hushed tone. The two clueless members looked back up at Makina, the green aura began spreading and the chains appeared once again. Murderface pushed his back against the sofa, tensing his muscles at the sight of the muzzle surrounding Makina’s mouth. Toki on the other hand felt a sense of panic, his heart was racing faster than what felt like an inhuman speed, the cage chains that surrounded Makina made him want to jump out of his chair and scoop her out of there. 

"Stop, stop..." Chester commanded once more, the lights and glowing chains disappeared once again. "Emphasis before the chorus. And why'd you go off-key? Are you showin' off or somethin' since they turned up? That's a genuine question coz I don't even know.” Chester remarked as he typed out some notes on his phone. “Ugh, yes it was ‘intentional’ doctor know-it-all. Fucks sake. You know what, I’m gonna take a break.” Makina stated as she aggressively ripped her headphones off of her head and tossed them onto the stool. She stomped her way out and swung the recording booth door wide open and marched right past the others to the studio exit, she took one look at Chester while sucking air through her teeth. She held her tongue and instead slammed the door on the way out. Dethklok looked at Chester who was unphased by her outburst. He put 3 fingers in the air, counting down to one and pointed towards the recording booth window to hear a muffled scream and very loud bang on the studio door. The bash on the door startled Toki a little bit. "Sheesh... is she a singer or a banshee?" Chester placed an elbow on the console and leaned his head into it. “Uh… I’ll go check on her.” Nathan said as he stood up. “Me too.” Murderface chimed in. Toki also followed close behind.

XxxX

Makina was pacing back and forth while mumbling obscenities, scratching her head and biting her arm, screaming into it. “Makis ams yous goods?” Toki called out, she turned around with her forearm in her mouth, forming little streams of blood where her teeth were holding her flesh. Makina had frustrated tears coming from her face. “Amf fife.” She mumbled through her biting. “Let go.” Nathan asked firmly, Makina obeyed with seething rage in her eyes. “I’m not letting you go back in till you calm down. Now sit.” Makina sat on the cold hard ground, holding her knees to her chest.  “Why ams you treatings her like she’s a puppys?” Toki asked as he sat down on the ground next to Makina. “Because she’s a fucking bitch that’s why, right Nathan?” Murderface jeered. Makina held her knees tighter, her body tensed up. “No, she just… I really don’t know how to deal with her any other way. Also, what was the deal with the ghost smoke today?” Makina slowly looked up at Nathan, “Dunno…” she said in a small voice. “Was that always a thing?” Murderface asked apprehensively, “Especially the ghost muzzle, it looked kind of cool on you. Fitting for a bitch like yourself.” 

“Nos, nos chains for hers!” Toki yelped as he hugged Makina tightly. “Nothings bads will evers happens!”

“Easy Toki. Those chains aren’t real and they won’t hurt her or anyone. And if you guys can see them, that’s gotta mean something...” Nathan sighed, “If only Charles were here to figure this out for us.” the vocalist commented under his breath. Makina lifted her head up and leaned hers against Toki’s, who’s body began shaking. She nuzzled him gently and placed one of her hands on his arm, attempting to soothe him. “Toki, if you get uncomfortable with those ghost chains appearing you can stay out here. I didn’t mean to scare you, I just have no control over how they appear. Everything’s gonna be ok.” Toki shakily inhaled and looked at Makina. Her worried yet oddly calming presence helped the rhythm guitarist to refocus his thoughts, he exhaled, relaxing his tense shoulders. “Ams yous gonna bes oks too?” Toki questioned, Makina shook her head. “Knowing Barker’s gonna be a thorn in my side for the majority of my career from now on, it’ll be wickedly tough. But I’ll make it through.” 

“Great to hear Medusa, but that still doesn’t answer what’s with the ghost stuff.” Murderface added with confused annoyance. “Well it only happens when I sing… and that’s it. That’s all I know.” Makina answered, she began to stand up, holding Toki by the hand. “Let’s just get this session over with so I can deal with the other bullshit Barker’s gonna throw my way.” the raven haired singer stated as she went back inside the recording studio to finish up for the day. Nathan lingered behind her and his bandmates, his mind began to wander once more. Why was this all happening to his protege at all?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 7

part 1 | part 6 | chapter 1 on ao3

cw: panic attack, ptsd flashback to minor character death, graphic depictions of… food? lol

Dinner is exactly as chaotic as Steve expected it to be. He and Claudia take opposite end seats with a glass of red wine each, and the kids take the middle and start acting like a pack of caffeinated raccoons: talking over each other, scraping forks against plates, stretching their entire upper bodies across the table and dragging their sleeves through the side dishes instead of just asking someone to pass them the butter; Steve’s starting to wonder if any of these kids have ever eaten at a table before, or if they maybe just wandered in from the surrounding woods. Feral asses.

When they do start asking for things, he regrets wishing they would, because Lucas goes “Erica, can you pass me the salt?” and Erica sneers “I don’t know, can I?” and Mike jabs “Whatever; nobody says ‘may’ anymore, you dork” and Claudia gasps “Michael!” and it all escalates from there until Dustin tries to catapult lasagna off the end of his fork and hits Steve in the side of the head with a glob of warm cheese.

Silence falls around the room.

The cheese plops onto his plate.

“Sh-ii-it,” Dustin breathes, face stuck in wide-eyed shock.

Steve gives Claudia an imploring look.

“Why don’t we clear the table for dessert?”

The commotion starts up again in double time, everyone scrambling to clean up and clear the room before Steve starts bitching about them messing up his hair (and his plate, and his clothes, because the cheese splash sent a spray of little tomato sauce droplets splattering all over him, and isn’t that just perfect; he’s gonna have to hand-scrub the stain out of his khakis), so it’s just him and Dustin left when Dustin’s elbow catches and tips over his wine.

The liquid spills onto his plate: dark, and red, oozing into the uneaten scraps of sauce and cheese and pasta to form a viscous, fleshy sludge. Red like his dad’s office, like his father’s mangled thigh, and it’s just food it’s just food it’s not blood it’s not blood but he can’t fucking breathe, can’t hearing anything beyond the wet, gasping sounds his dad made the night he died, and then he realizes that he’s making them, mouth moving fruitlessly around air that won’t pass, trapped in the bottleneck of his choked-off windpipe.

“Steve?” Dustin asks, and his voice sounds far away. “Shit, shit, Steve! Can you hear me? Are you choking? I know the Heimlich, just- just hold on!”

He snaps out of it when Dustin pulls him halfway from his chair, gets his fists under his ribs and all but punches the air from his lungs. It sets off a nasty coughing fit that leaves Steve snotty and ready to hurl, and he braces himself with his forearms on his knees and stares hard at the ground until the hacking finally stops.

There’s a scuff on his sneakers.

He can’t replace them any time soon.

A moment to catch his breath, and Dustin’s shaking him by the shoulders. “Are you okay??”

Steve keeps his head bowed. “Yeah.” He needs to get the fuck out of here. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He rises from his chair, grateful that everyone else already cleared out before they could witness his little moment, that the blare of the TV from the family room covered the sound of his retching coughs; more grateful still that they won’t notice him now, scampering out of here with his tail between his legs. “Hey listen, man, I’m not feeling so well,” he says absently, fishing his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Can you get your mom to drive everyone home?”

“Shouldn’t you stay?” Dustin frowns in concern. “If you’re sick? You can go lie down in my room or something, it’s—”

“—Nah, man; I mean, thanks, but…” His hand trembles around his keys, the muscles in his calves screaming bolt, bolt, bolt. “I just- I gotta go.”

He makes a break for it, rushing out the side door so no one else will see him leave (and he knows it’s fucking rude to head out without saying goodbye, but he’s also pretty convinced he’s going to combust if he doesn’t go right now.) “Tell your mom I said thanks, okay?”

“Tell her yourself!” Dustin chases after him, clumsy and slow across the darkened yard. “Dude, will you slow down? Talk to me!”

Steve throws himself into his car like there’s a demodog on his heels. “I’ll call you!”

“What the fuck!” Dustin shouts, but Steve’s already gone.

—

part 8

tagging a few people i know have been following along 🩷 @slowandsteddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @pennyplainknits @ledleaf @hellion-child @formosusiniquis @missjashin @runninriot @xpaperheartso @steddieas-shegoes

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

CW: Rape, incest, CSA

This is actually not a strictly A Song of Ice and Fire post here, but it overlaps in some ways so I figured I'd write this.

Anyone who has not read the web serials Worm or Ward and wishes to avoid spoilers, don't read this post:

Disclaimer out of the way, I've found striking parallels between fandom reaction for both A Song of Ice and Fire and Parahumans regarding how characters who survived sexual abuse view their abusers, in a dangerously disturbing way.

For this I'm going to specifically be using the examples of Aeron and Theon Greyjoy from A Song of Ice and Fire to compare and contrast to Victoria Dallon in Ward. All three were psychologically and sexually tormented by their abusers during the course of the series. Theon is a young adult by the time Ramsay gets his hands on him, but Aeron and Victoria were both children when they were molested by family members so they will be the main two characters to compare.

In the case of Euron and Aeron, there are a (sadly very vocal) minority who are ready to dismiss Euron's danger to others by specifically using Aeron's abuse against him. Sure, Euron is evil and horrifically abused him and Urrigon when they were children, and it is understandable that Aeron would be mortified of Euron. After all, he tries to warn people about Euron repeatedly, only for his attempts to stop him to all fail.

The response by this section of the fandom to claims of Euron being built up as a major threat are essentially that Aeron's trauma is in the way of his ability to perceive Euron objectively. Is Euron actually as dangerous as Aeron claims? You can say the same for Theon and Ramsay. After all, Theon is half-mad warning Stannis about Ramsay, and Stannis is bringing some Rational Realness to the forefront by saying "what do I have to fear him for?"

Since GRRM is never releasing another A Song of Ice and Fire book it's hard to say what he intends but he could definitely intend for this to be the case. That said, there is a story featuring a similar character that is completed. Ward!

Victoria Dallon's sister, Amy, is a cape with healing abilities, though as the series progresses we know that healing is just the tip of the iceberg; she can change the biological makeup of living things. Amy is adopted, and has never felt any love from anyone other than Victoria. Amy develops deep romantic love for her sister, however, and then begins a series of bad decisions that just serve to deepen her already deep mental breakdown.

Amy proceeds to; alter Victoria's brain chemistry to give her compulsive romantic thoughts about her, then following healing Victoria after a battle, she spends several days alone with her, during which she repeatedly rapes her, erases her memories of said rapes, until her mental health deteriorates even further and she is unable to use her power properly and turns Victoria into the Wretch: a mass of flesh and limbs and heads, rather than anything actually human.

Then Victoria spends 2 years in a mental institution, stuck in a body she hates, all the while fighting the compulsions Amy left in place. When she finally returns Victoria to normal at the end of Worm, it is actually against her will and not because she had a change of heart or got more confident.

Then we get to Ward, where Victoria is the main POV. As is very obvious, Victoria is struggling with extremely intense PTSD, mentioning Amy is enough to trigger a dissociative flashback, and she wants absolutely nothing to do with her anymore: and fucking rightfully so.

Victoria also warns people about Amy. She warns her therapist to try to reach out to Amy before she hurts someone else, she warns literally anyone who will listen about Amy and what she might end up doing. We may not know what it is that Ramsay and Euron end up doing, but we do know what Amy does.

She refuses all help and doubles down on bad decisions, enslaves people with her powers, later imprisons and torments and touches Victoria again against her will, and becomes the dictatorial monster in charge of an entire planet. Victoria's warnings prove to be extremely prophetic and extremely real.

Now lets get into some discourse shall we?

Despite Amy being a rapist who rapes her sister, enslaves others via mind control, and literally never once improving as a person or acknowledging that her actions even caused harm, there are still those who think Amy isn't at fault. Some might find this post, but I don't really care. Amy is at fault for things Amy did. Victoria is not at fault for hugging her sister like a normal human being when Amy is upset, Amy didn't do her a favour healing her because then she just raped her and then really couldn't fix her back to a human body, and Amy isn't absolved of these sins because she healed a lot of people.

Essentially, Victoria is sometimes blamed for being raped by her sister, the rapist, despite Amy canonically being a manipulative lying liar rapist.

Okay so that doesn't seem to related to what the fandom says with Euron and Ramsay, right? After all, we don't really blame Aeron for being molested and Theon for also being sexually tortured and abused by Ramsay, do we? There are factors as to why that is (mostly that Aeron and Theon are men and Victoria is a woman; if you don't buy this argument look at people who say Cersei deserved to be sexually assaulted by Robert or try to use "the times" as an excuse to overlook Daenerys also being raped by Drogo) but there is an overlap here.

Amy being able to get away with that she did only to go on and hurt so many other people is a meta-commentary on the way survivors of sexual abuse are disbelieved or blamed for what happened to them. Naturally, those real like abusers end up going to abuse other people too. Fuck, even in the fandom, Victoria is still fucking blamed for things that she had absolutely no choice in the matter.

Which leads back to Theon and Aeron. Yes, trauma impacts the way you remember traumatic events, and that means objectivity can get lost at times. It can for Victoria and Theon and Aeron. But that trauma, the dissociation, memory problems, all of these together, are there for a reason. And that's because someone came along, ruined another persons life for their own pleasure and satisfaction, and then got away with it.

Victoria warned the world about what Amy would do, and she was unfortunately correct. Theon and Aeron warned others about Ramsay and Euron. Survivors should be believed, and not be dismissed. After all, it isn't our fault that we got abused. People may hear things about Euron or Amy or Ramsay, but the people who truly know who they are---what they are capable of, what they are actually like---are the people they abused.

So yeah, it's kinda fucking lame when I hear someone go "Stannis gonna prove Theon wrong with facts and logic" as if he doesn't, I don't know, have insight into Ramsay's psychology in ways Stannis doesn't. Same with Euron. Same with Amy.

Also fucking read Ward it hurts as intensely as it kicks ass.

[gemini-forest]

I don’t know if this is crazy or not but I think Jayden would help Leo with his insomnia or something when they get together.

CW: Depiction of PTSD flashback and dissociation and mention of trauma at the end

BONUS:

Jayden could tell the insomnia was bad from the start, they have minor insomnia so there are days they can be up with Leo. But if he's up for days after the first event if Leo didn't sleep at all or barely slept(like 3 hours) he's on the edge of a shut down.

However Jayden learns to work with him due to his PTSD, which was from the trauma of what Krang Prime did and the loss of his arm.

This comic is Jayden's first time seeing him like this. Kinda scared them because they usually see him so confident and loud, not quiet and shaking. As well as his tail doesn't flick the way it is seen here normally, sideways is usually the way of irritation, his tail moving up and down is clear panic.

Also giving Leo my behavior when I have PTSD flash backs wooo~

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumptober 2024 Masterpost

Prompts List

1 + 2 + 9 + 18: Search Party | Trust Issues | Obsession | Broken Window | Revenge | Loss of Identity

(CW: 2nd person POV, running, attempted escape, tranquilizer dart, failed escape, amnesisa, noncon drugging, carewhumper, deception, panic, knife, needles, blood, threats, broken glass, drowning, bad ending)

3: Set Up For Failure

(CW: heist, trap, collapsing building, unconsciousness, pain, broken bones, trouble breathing, broken ribs, crushed, healing magic, immortal whump)

4 + 8: Hallucinations | Sensory Deprivation | Isolation Chamber

(CW: omniscient narrator, sensory deprivation, isolation lab whump, noncon drugging, observation, hallucinations, fear, running, collapse, crying)

5: Heatstroke

(CW: heatstroke, dehydration, insults, arguing)

6: Not Realizing They're Injured | Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | "It's not my blood."

(CW: cave-in, aftermath, worry, panic attack, blood, concussion, passing out)

7: Only For Emergencies | Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

(CW: cornered, threats, swearing, fantasy whump, struck by lightning, death, hyperventilation)

10: Blow to the Head | Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain

(CW: fighting, sensory overload, running, screaming, collapsing)

11 + 12 + 26: Loneliness | Underground Caverns | "Just a little more." | Parting Words of Regret

(CW: missing person, found footage, lost, separated, darkness, parting words regret, mystery, supernatural occurrence, running, screaming, implied death)

13: Multiple Whumpees

(CW: imprisoned, chained, arguing, swearing, worry, past trauma)

14: "Because I want you to know what it's like to be haunted."

(CW: death mention, corpse, aftermath, kidnapping mention, threats, referenced injuries, referenced trauma, swearing)

15: Childhood Trauma | Moment of Clarity

(CW: panic attack, PTSD, flashback, kidnapping mention, death mention, torture mention, deception)

16: Swamp | Wound Cleaning

(CW: concussion, burns, running, escape, paranoia, wound cleaning, shoulder wound, getting lost, swearing)

17: (Alt) Used as Bait

(CW: captivity, chained to a wall, gloating, threats, used as bait, swearing)

19: (Alt) Forgotten

(CW: amnesia, angst)

20: Emotional Angst

(CW: captivity whump, chains, manhandling, minor whump, angst, crying)

21: (Alt) Secrets Revealed

(CW: breaking and entering, swearing, deception, lab whump, medical whump, stealing, insanity, hallucinations)

22 + 25: Bleeding through the Bandages | Stitches

(CW: blood, stitches, wound cleaning, worry)

23 + 24: (Alt) Survivor's Guilt | Collapsed Building

(CW: injury, guilt, death, concussion, arguing, swearing)

27: Voiceless | Laboratory | Muzzled

(CW: lab whump, ptsd, magic suppression, muzzled)

28: Denial | Exposure

(CW: stealth, swearing, deception, ghosts, limping, breaking and entering, blood, imprisoned, chains, unconsciousness, trap)

29: Fatigue | Labyrinth | "Who said you could rest?"

(CW: lab whump, labyrinth, fatigue, exhaustion, electrocution, forced to crawl, passing out)

30: Recovery | Hospital Bed

(CW: hospital room, heart monitor, broken wrist)

31: Asking for Help | "I'm alive, I'm just not well."

(CW: nightmares, insomnia, self-deprecation)

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen

Masterlist

AO3 link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of excessive drinking to numb painful emotions, PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mention of scars

Word count: 2.8k

Sleep eventually came that night, and I felt hellish when I woke up in the morning. "Hellish" was putting it lightly. My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my entire body was sore, aching like when you have the flu. My chest was heavy, and it felt like it was taking a lot of energy to simply breathe. I don't think I'd ever felt so drained before.

It took a few moments of being awake for me to remember what had happened during the night. I blinked rapidly and looked at the other side of the bed. I remembered Daryl had to be out early for a day of hunting, so I wasn't too hurt when I saw it was empty. Still, I wished he had stayed just long enough for me to wake up.

This day was unusual for me in that I didn't have anything planned, at least not until the evening. There was going to be a community dinner. Everyone was supposed to make something, and we would eat out in the grass by the garden and drink late into the night. I likely wouldn't see Daryl until then, unless he got back early from hunting. I already couldn't wait for him to get back so I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything.

My day was going to consist of taking care of myself as best I could after last night and making food for the dinner, maybe seeing if anyone wanted help with theirs. I started by pulling myself out of bed. At first, I just slid out onto the floor. But I got myself out of bed, and that was a start. I didn't quite have the energy to stand, so I crawled over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. I had decided a few days ago that today was finally going to be the day that I wore that dress Daryl got me weeks ago, back when we hardly knew each other. Not only was I excited to wear it, but I was excited for him to see me in it.

I sat on the floor for a while, letting my body reserve as much energy as it could so I could get myself down to the kitchen. Having not eaten since lunch the day before certainly wasn't helping my situation. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up, steadying myself on the dresser. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit red, and my lids were swollen, but they weren't too bad. My face felt puffy, and my hair was a mess of bedhead. I would've taken a shower first if my hunger wasn't demanding I make my way to the kitchen.

Daryl had left a container of food for me in the fridge. On the lid was a sticky note with my name on it. Judging by what he wrote, he would've had to leave it this morning before he went out on his hunt.

Vec

Hope you're feeling better

See you tonight

I put the note on the counter so I would remember to put it in my notebook with the other one. Eating helped me to feel a little better, but I still mostly felt like a pile of garbage. The note also put a little smile on my face. After I ate, I lugged myself into the shower in the hopes that that would help me feel less like garbage.

Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

As I washed myself off in the shower, stills from my nightmare flashed through my mind. It was like my brain was flipping through photos of the incident to taunt me. It made me feel an otherworldly level of gross, disgusting, like the only thing that could cleanse me of the feeling would be to skin myself. I could hardly stand to touch my own skin, to look at my own body, and I ended up curling up into a ball on the floor of the tub and sobbing some more. I wasn't sure how much more of this my poor eyeballs could take.

I don't know how long I spent like that, curled up in a pathetic little ball in the tub, but it was long enough to ride out a panic attack that felt like it lasted for days.

Once the panic attack had mostly subsided, I did my best to finish washing myself off before standing back up. I continued to take deep breaths as I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my fresh towel and tossing it around me like a blanket. I couldn't even look at my hands for fear that seeing my scars would send me into another spiral.

One thing was for sure—I was going to be numbing these feelings with alcohol.

I had never blacked out before, as I was a lightweight and didn't even like getting to the point that I was dizzy. I didn't know what I was going to be like, or what to expect, but I didn't care. I couldn't handle these feelings anymore. They'd been creeping up on me more and more the last few weeks, and last night was the catalyst for my impending drunken state. I could only hope I wouldn't make a total fool of myself and ruin things with Daryl.

I sat on my bed, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my nervous system down. I had talked patients down from panic attacks before, but talking yourself down from one was different. After some time, I was breathing normally again, and my heart rate had returned to a steady beat. I dried myself off and got dressed, and the sight of me in the stunning dress Daryl picked for me made me smile.

I did a small twirl in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. The hem sat right around my ankles, and the slit came up to my mid-thigh on my right leg. It was nice and flowy around my lower body and hugged my waist and chest just right. It was like it was crafted just for me. I couldn't wait for Daryl to see.

I didn't need to start preparing food until later, so I thought I would go see if anyone needed help with preparing theirs or needed help with anything else. I grabbed my bag, put my boots on, and headed outside. It was a gorgeous day, nice and sunny and perfect for the evening's activities. People were bustling around, busy completing their daily tasks so they could relax when dinnertime came around. It was wonderful to see people getting excited about something and coming together so that we all could have a normal, non-apocalyptic experience.

I started off at Glenn and Maggie's. I hadn't spent time with Maggie in a while, and truly, I was less concerned about seeing if she needed help and more so just wanted to hang out. Maggie had become like a sister to me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed spending time with Daryl. But I also was in desperate need of some girl time.

"Hey. I just wanted to see if y'all needed help with anything for tonight. And I missed you," I said.

"Yeah, long time no see," she said. She stepped out onto the porch and gave me a hug, acknowledging my dress as she pulled away. “Whoa, where'd you pull that out from?" She opened the door and ushered me inside.

"Oh, it was a gift," I explained. She had an inquisitive look on her face.

"From...?" Maggie asked. I looked down at the floor and smiled. Her quick response let me know that I didn't need to explain. She knew. "No, really? That's so sweet!"

"Yeah. He said he thought of me when he saw it and thought I would like it. It's my first time wearing it." I looked back up at Maggie, whose jaw was nearly on the floor. “He tried to tell me that he just got lucky and didn't remember that my favorite color is blue, but I'm pretty sure he remembered."

"Oh he never forgot," she gushed, starting to walk away towards another room, "hold on, I have just the thing to add to your look." She returned a minute later with a curling iron in her hand. "Look what I found the other day. Can I do your hair?" She sounded so excited at the idea, I had a hard time saying no.

"Sure," I said, following her off to the bathroom, "why not? I have a lot of hair though, I hope you got time."

"Glenn can make the food for tonight. We got all the time we need."

We spent hours in that tiny bathroom, chatting and laughing and giggling like old friends. It felt like getting ready with a girlfriend to go out to the club on a weekend. It was times like this that made things seem normal, even if it was just for a few hours. We only took a break at one point for lunch, and Maggie explained to Glenn that he would be cooking for tonight's event. He was less than pleased.

"Are you gonna dress cute tonight?" I asked Maggie as she was moving on to the last chunks of my hair.

"I may have found something nice to wear," she said, a little smirk on her face and laughter in her voice.

"Oooh, you'll have to show me when we're done. We gotta make sure Rosita and Michonne do too. Ah I'm so excited!" I gushed.

After she finished the last piece of my hair, I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was somewhere between soft waves and tight ringlet curls, and despite being curled, it still reached down past my chest. Having my hair done was just the confidence boost I needed.

"Maggie, you killed it," I said. I twirled around and gave her another hug.

"You look great. Daryl's gonna have a hard time taking his eyes off you," she said. I caught myself turning red in the mirror, and her chuckling at me indicated that she had caught it too.

"Well, he can look as much as he wants," I gushed.

"Will he get to do more than just look?"

"Maggie!" I gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and I could feel the red on my face becoming brighter. She only laughed more.

"C'mon, let me show you what I picked out," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom to go upstairs.

Once I left Maggie's, I went over to see Rosita and then Michonne. I wasn't able to find Rosita, but I did tell Michonne about what Maggie and I planned, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to join us. She showed me a cute little cream-colored dress that she had but hadn't worn before, and I gushed over how pretty she would look in it. It felt good to be able to hype up my fellow women.

I took a little stroll around the community before going home to make food for the eventful evening to come. After I finished making the food, I hand-washed some pots and pans. I had squatted down on the floor to put something away in a lower cabinet when I heard the front door open. I figured it had to be Daryl. The butterflies in my stomach awakened. I was both excited and extremely nervous for him to see me all dolled up.

"Hey, there's my bonafide badass," I said as I popped my head up over the island in the kitchen. His chocolate hair hung in front of his face, obstructing his eyes from my view, but I could feel that they were on me. He had taken off his bow and his jacket, both of which had been tossed on the floor, and he had started walking in my direction. “How did the hunt go?"

"Real well. Probably the best in—wow." He cut off his sentence as I got up and walked around the other side of the island. My heart was pounding. "Ya wearin' it."

"Yeah. I, uh, finally found an occasion to wear it," I said, taking a few steps closer to him and giving him a couple of little twirls. “What do you think?"

He didn't say anything at first, just eyed me up and down, which I didn't mind. Like I told Maggie, he could look as much as he wanted. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me the tightest and most gentle hug I could imagine. I wrapped my arms around his neck in return. He was a little sweaty and dirty from being out in the sun all day, but I didn't care. My knees felt weak, and I practically melted into him as he pulled me closer.

"Ya look real nice." His sweet Southern accent right in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Dress fits perfect."

"Thank you. The hair is courtesy of Maggie. It took hours."

"She did great," Daryl said. We spent another few moments like that before Daryl released me from the hug. But he still kept me close, running his hands up and down from my shoulders to my elbows. His work-worn hands caressing my bare skin felt immaculate. “How ya feelin' after last night?" I kept my gaze on his chest. I was finding it difficult to look him in the eye when I thought about what happened the night before. I was still feeling ashamed.

"Alright. I had some...moments throughout the day, but I'm ok." I could feel him looking down at me. He only had three, maybe four inches on me at most, but he still had to peer down to look at me, especially when we were this close. I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. "I'm sorry about what happened. I feel bad for keeping you up, and I feel like such a baby for how I acted."

"Don't apologize. Nothin' ya did wrong. Just glad you're ok," Daryl said. His voice was always so silky soft when he talked to me, and it made me melt even more. "Wanted to stay with ya 'til ya got up, but I had to leave early. Sorry 'bout that." I leaned my head forward and rested my forehead on his chest. Being this close to him, wrapped up in his arms like this...it was my own personal heaven.

"That's ok, it's not your fault. Thank you for everything you did for me. I—" I cut myself off before using the word I considered. I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes locking immediately. Those stunning blue irises made me weak. "I appreciate you. A lot."

"Anytime sunshine," he reassured, and I gave him a big grin in return.

"I should get the food outside. Wanna come with me?"

"Ya go on. I'll be out soon," he said. I skipped over into the kitchen and grabbed the slow cooker, and Daryl went upstairs. I propped the appliance up on my leg and let myself outside.

Someone had taken one of the infirmary tables and set it up in the grass, and plenty of people had already brought their dishes out and were gathering together. There was also a separate table set up for alcohol. I went over and sat the slow cooker down on the infirmary table, and I could see Rosita bouncing over towards me.

"Dude, you look hot," she exclaimed, giving me a hug as she approached me, "your hair looks amazing. How long did that take?"

"Thank you. Maggie did it. It took literal hours," I said, "and so do you. You look so cute. I wish we had a way to take pictures."

"Thanks. She caught me earlier and told me you all planned to dress up, told me I should join in."

"Oh good. I tried to find you earlier to tell you, but I couldn't," I explained. I tapped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "Rosita, I need you to do me a huge favor. I'm looking to get drunk tonight. Like really drunk. If you think I might start saying something about Daryl, something that he or anyone else shouldn't hear, I need you to punch me in the stomach as hard as you can." Her expression changed to a confused one. "I mean that. Don't hold back. Knock some sense into me."

"Vector, I'm not gonna punch you. But I will stop you from saying something you'd regret. How much do you plan on drinking?"

"You don't wanna know."

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

[angel-of-the-moons]

We gotta give Spider-Medic a raise 😔 With all the work he does he deserves it

ahaha spidermedic x Reader when ??? 👀

-💐

Anosnlsnlxnlsnlxnlnelnd 💐💐💐💐 ILYSM

I am vibrating and bouncing off the walls and going feral and losing my mind because Omgggg I'm glad you guys like the relatively faceless Spider-Man enough for this I originally only intended to use him as a filler character so I didn't have to make more 😭😭😭

AND FUCK YEAH *cracks knuckles* I'MMA DO IT

Make Love, Not War

Spider Medic x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/CW: PTSD, Nightmares, Angst, Pining, Reader does some stupid shit™ just to get alone with him, injury mentions, flashbacks, War PTSD, blood, SMUT, NSFW, oral sex male and fem!Receiving, fingering, unprotected sex (Don't be fools! Wrap your tools!), semi public sex(Does the medical bay at HQ count?) Lyla being a smartass

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Once again, header does not indicate Reader's race, but a story focused on my poor traumatized boi deserves its own header qwq Also this is just a fucking angsty, mindless, horny mess have fun asdfghjkl

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The first thing that hit his nostrils was the smell of churned earth, gunpowder, smoke, and blood.

So, so much blood.

His superiors let him stay enlisted, even after he got bit by that crazy spider, developed his super powers.

If anything, they made him a better medic.

Having your own almost-infinite supply of "bandages", and medical knowledge tends to make you an asset on the battlefield.

He learned how to stitch up wounds and glue them shut with lightning precision, knew how to dodge bullets and mortars, shoot webs and pull soldiers away from grenades or punji board traps... and the pitfalls. Those are always a hit or miss.

In Vietnam there was no such thing as quiet on the battlefield.

The quiet was unnerving. The quiet was bad.

The quiet meant something horrible was about to happen.

One minute he was in the trenches patching up a private who had his shoulder shredded by a sniper round, the next minute his CO who was barking orders at him had half his head blown off.

His brains got everywhere.

On his uniform, on his kit, on the rookie... his blood soaking the ground, watering the disturbed earth like they were a part of a macabre aqueduct.

That's when the gas was deployed.

Not by his allies, but the canisters were tossed into the trenches.

Mustard gas. Of course.

They had mustard gas.

The blisters, the yellowing skin, the coughing, and the burning in the lungs... gas masks were useless.

Shrapnel had hit the kid he was patching up...

All he could do was try and pull the kid he had in his arms to safety, carefully slinging some webs around his midsection to stem the tide of blood threatening to roll from him.

Other soldiers ran by. Young. Not much younger than him, but still...

So young.

Bodies were already lining the trenches as he carried the boy over his shoulder, fleeing into the treeline with what remained of his unit.

He set the bleeding soldier down, feeling blood soak through the silken bandages he'd made for him.

"Fuck." He muttered, digging around in his pack for something, anything to help him.

"Am--am I gonna d-die?" The young man gasped, choking around a mouthful of blood.

"Not if I can help it, keep your eyes open, alright?" He growled, frantically digging in his far too empty bag.

"Please don't let me die. Please don't let me die." The kid begged.

His jaw set tight, he gripped with shaky hands around the tube of glue. A pitiful amount was left.

The boy's eyes got frantic, wide, darting around to the other soldiers who created a semi-circle perimeter around them.

He kept coughing, crying, gasping.

"Please, I wanna go home. I want to see my mom again, I want to see my mom--"

He made the most horrible croaking noise, his chest contracting, before his eyes glazed over and he went silent, crimson dripping out of his mouth like he was a bloody fountain.

"Damn it!" He frantically pressed his fingers over his neck, checking for a pulse.

He pulled him down on the ground, and began chest compressions, his mind going into tunnel vision as all he could think about was getting just one more gasp from the limp body beneath him.

"Parker." The lieutenant sighed, touching his shoulder.

Not again. Not another one. Not somebody's baby.

"Parker." He said, shaking him.

He shook his head, shrugging the arm of his last commanding officer away, fighting to get the kid's heart beating again, his fingers slipping with blood.

The boy couldn't have been more than 19. He should still get the chance to marry the girl he had a picture of in his pocket, the girl who wrote the letter and left a lipstick stain on the bottom of the page telling him how she couldn't wait for him to come home.

He should get to go home, hug his mom. Kiss her cheek, watch her grow old.

He deserved to live.

He deserved to go home, alive. Not in a box, riddled with bullets and shrapnel. Not with a folded up flag, and battered tags.

Not like this.

"Parker!"

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He sat up with a start, breathing heavy and eyes wide as he frantically scanned the room, instinctively reaching for the pistol he no longer carried.

When he saw nobody there, he fell back onto the bed, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

Right. He was in HQ.

He was in the med-bay.

He wasn't on the battlefield anymore.

He wasn't elbow deep in viscera anymore.

He wasn't watching somebody's child die in his arms anymore.

He draped an arm over his face briefly, before getting up to trudge into the attached bathroom to pull off his mask and stare at his face for probably the first time in days.

It was hard to look at himself, sometimes.

The one who lived. The one who got lucky, possibly at the cost of some kid fresh into his boots.

Survivor's guilt, some called it.

He pulled his gloves off next, splashing some nice cold water on his face to wake himself up, to pull him back to reality.

Once he dried off, he pulled his mask and gloves back on, walking out to grab his helmet before securing it and buckling it safely back in place.

It had a red spider with a white cross on the abdomen.

He wasn't a medical corps-man anymore.

He wasn't some useless PTSD-ridden veteran that they paraded about to showcase the horrors of war.

He was a medic. A damned good one.

He had friends, his job was cushy, he had a purpose. He didn't have to stew in his own madness anymore.

But it was when it was quiet that it got hard.

27 years old, and he felt like he'd lived decades in those trenches. Like he'd lived there his whole life.

Like he was born there. Like he was going to die there.

But, he didn't.

He was here, he was now. Part of something far bigger than he ever could have imagined.

He almost exclusively lived at HQ at this point, not seeing a reason he was needed in his universe anymore.

Miguel assured him there was no risk of an inter-dimensional anomaly, that his universe wouldn't collapse.

Thankfully, he could stay as long as he wanted and his universe wouldn't collapse.

Maybe he was a special case.

He didn't really care. Going back to post-war America was not something he looked forward to.

Going home to an empty house wasn't something he could stand, being left with his own thoughts was torture enough.

"Hey, Med." Lyla chimed, her tiny holographic image appeared above the watch on his wrist.

"Yeah? What is it, Lyla?" He asked, forcing the exhaustion from his tone, to little avail.

"So uhhh... you know the Spider-Woman from 18906?" She grinned.

"Oh dear God what did that woman do now?" He groaned, facepalming.

Lyla leaned on his head like he was a brick wall. The gesture wasn't really necessary, he couldn't feel her do it, but it was for effect.

She checked her nails and hummed.

"Sprained her ankle. Or somethin'." She smirked slowly, her body glitching until she was in front of him, hands now in the pockets of her large coat.

Her eyes glimmered almost, behind those large heart-shaped glasses.

"Just thought I'd give you a heads-up before she limps on in..."

"Ugh, thanks for the warning." He sighed as he changed the bedding and pillowcase with fresh sterile replacements, tossing the blankets he slept in into the bin.

"Tell 'er to come in here. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Want me to make sure nobody interrupts the lecture you're gonna drill into her brain?" She asked, eyebrows waggling.

"Lyla..."

"I'm goin', I'm goin'! You're acting more and more like Miguel every day!"

Before he could retort, telling the little AI she was wrong, she disappeared and he was left alone.

"Ugh."

He groaned and dug out a first aid kit and checked the supplies in this particular suite

The medical wing of HQ was much like a hospital ward. It had ICU suites, private suites, an emergency room where beds were separated by curtains, x-ray...

Everything a respectable medical professional would need.

Respectable. Yeah, right.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door to the suite slid open, and he turned, crossing his arms at you.

You drove him up the walls with your shenanigans, and how you shrugged your injuries off like they were a drop of sweat. Even the time he had to practically scoop your guts back into you.

You were the bane of his existence in the medical wing, you and Hobie. But moreso you, as you found your way under his hands in some way or another constantly.

"So..." You started bashfully, leaning on the doorframe for support. "Don't get mad..."

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"You mean to tell me you were trying to... to skateboard? While playing a goddamn guitar?" He growled, the eyes of his mask narrowing as he examined your bare, slightly swollen ankle.

His fingers were gentle, turning your foot this way and that, gauging your pain, checking the bruising...

But he had no idea how his touch was affecting you in other ways.

You got made fun of, by some of the other Spiders. Ben Reilly the most. He even outpaced Hobie with how he poked at how down bad you were for this Peter Parker. The one everyone called Spider-Medic. Sure you almost never saw his face, except on a few occasions. Sure, he looked like half the other Peter Parkers; but he had his own "look" that set him apart from the rest, a rugged appearance that made him look unique.

"You probably hurt yourself just to get his attention at this point! Not a good way to spend time with the guy you like, toots." Ben clucked. "You need a better icebreaker."

He wasn't... entirely wrong.

You were accident-prone as hell. You got injured in training, on the job... doing stupid shit with Hobie.

"Well... er. It was for a bet, so--"

He cut you off. "Don't give a damn what it was for. Doing reckless shit like this is childish."

His tone was firm, but not unkind.

He hadn't looked up at you once, and thankfully you were happy you still wore your mask. It hid the blush that crept up your cheeks.

"R.... Right." You mumble, squirming.

"Stop moving, you'll only make this harder." He grunted, reaching into his kit.

You do as he says, letting him wrap your ankle with some gauze and his webs.

His hands were warm, even through his gloves.

"Good girl." He says quietly.

You worked hard to suppress the shudder that went up your spine at that.

"It's barely a sprain. You're lucky. Don't do that kinda shit again." He told you.

"Y-yeah..." You mumble as he stands, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

God, why did you find this man so hot?

He sighed and set the kit down on the bed next to you, sorting the contents neatly again, grabbing excess from the cabinet nearby to restock it.

"So, um..." You try, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Spit it out, kid. Don't have all day." He says, focusing on his task, meticulously organizing the kit on muscle memory alone.

"I--I am not a kid! You're only like, two or three years older than I am!" You retort.

"Yeah well, I've seen and experienced enough to get you beat by a few decades." He narrowed his eyes at you.

"And doing shit like this? Getting hurt like this? Pretty damn childish if you ask me."

You wilted a bit, twiddling your fingers in your lap silently.

He wasn't wrong... but you weren't the only Spidey that didn't take things seriously all the time.

Like that one who had that Deadpool guy shoved up his ass.

Literally, you sometimes joked. It never ceased to make the guy blush, much to your delight.

Like you were blushing now, red as the parts on his suit...

"I don't mean to... not all the time, I just--"

One of his eyebrows shoots up. "What do you mean all the time? You get hurt on purpose?"

You jolted, realizing how you just let that slip.

"I, uh--I just--what I meant was..." You fumble for the words.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" He snapped, his voice turning as stern as... well, what you assume a drill instructor sounded like.

"Hurting yourself on purpose? What kind of logic goes behind that? What, you trying to get yourself killed?!"

You flinched under the onslaught of words.

"Because kid, if you think that getting yourself hurt will get you out of missions like cutting school, then I don't want to see you in my med bay at all!"

"I--"

"What kind of reckless bullshit is that? If you do this shit intentionally, then you shouldn't be in the Spider Society at all, kid--"

"I do it to come see you, you asshole!" You snap back, unable to take his criticism.

He falls silent, wide-eyed as you continue.

"And stop calling me kid! You think that shit doesn't piss me off? I've tried getting your attention, but the only way you ever look at me is when you're treating me!" You say, everything you've kept bottled up for the past six months reaching its boiling point.

"You never leave the med bay, and when you do--once in a blue fucking moon--is when you go get food from the cafeteria or go talk to Miguel! You never do anything else! Franky, it worries everyone! Not just me! It freaks out fucking Lyla, Med! Lyla!"

You continue to blow it all out. He could swear he could almost see steam coming off of you, like an angry kettle boiling.

"You never talk to anyone other than Miguel or Lyla, except when you're fucking treating someone! I just--I wanted to--You--"

Your shoulders slump and you suddenly deflate.

"You don't... I don't... I can't just--"

He sat silently, staring at you as you reached up, digging the heels of your palms into the lenses of your suit, as if that really did anything to help the tears that wanted to come out.

Fuck, you were one of the emotional ones.

For once, the word "kid" didn't come out of his mouth. Your name did.

And when he said it, he was... gentle. His tone fragile.

"If you've seen what I have... done what I have... you'd understand."

"I may not understand it all, but I want to! I just don't know how to talk to you if I'm not bleeding from somewhere!" You retorted, slapping your hand on the mattress for emphasis.

"You won't even look at me." You say quietly. "Not unless you're patching me up."

He listens to you now, and... shit. Fuck.

He was feeling things.

Feelings. Feelings he hadn't realized he was even feeling until you fessed up.

Feelings he hadn't felt since before he was shipped out.

Before...

Shit, is that why you annoyed him so much? Is that why his skin prickled when he touched you?

This wasn't... he couldn't...

He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve... someone like you. Plucky, happy, so full of life.

And here you were, pouring out everything that's been on your mind, everything about him. And it was breaking his heart.

His hands were moving before either of you even realized it.

He helmet and mask were ripped off and tossed to the floor, the metal clanking a bit too loud. Your mask joined his on the tile, eyes as big as saucers as his mouth found yours, desperate and hungry.

God... you wanted to keep yelling at him but having the mouth of the man you've been pining for for months on yours threw all sense out the window; your hands pawed at each other greedily.

His hands slid around your waist, down, gripping your ass and pulling you against him, grinding his hips into yours with a groan.

Fuck, he was already getting hard. It's been so long...

He rolled the bulge in his pants against your throbbing heat, earning a weak moan from you as his mouth moved down, biting at the skin that shielded your leaping pulse, lips placing frantic kisses at the curve of your jaw, beneath your ear as he continued to grind into you, coaxing himself to full mast as fresh pulses of arousal ping around your stomach like a pinball machine.

His hastily tears his gloves off and drops them on the bed, fingers fumbling for the zipper on the back of your suit.

He tugs it down as you arch yourself against him, pressing your chest against his.

He peels it down to your waist like he's done it a hundred times; and groans deeply when he sees you weren't wearing a bra.

"Fucking hell." He growled, reaching out to pinch and roll your nipple with one hand, while groping your ass with another as your mouths crash together again, all teeth and tongue and just sheer desire.

His kisses were almost like punches, ripping the air and moans from your throat.

If his kisses were punches, you really were feeling punch-drunk right about now.

"Peter." You gasp when he bites at your bottom lip.

He stills for a moment, his mouth at the curve of your neck and shoulder.

"Say my name again." He growled, his voice heady with lust.

He bites down on the soft skin, sending sharp jolts of pleasure arcing through your bloodstream.

"Peter!" You moan breathlessly.

He leans you back, moving to place open-mouthed kisses to your collar bone, licking and nipping as he went, one of his hands groping at your left breast as his teeth close around the nipple on your right.

You moaned out loud as his mouth greedily latched on, his tongue swirling and his teeth pinching your nipple ferociously, trailing his lips across your chest to your other neglected nipple.

"Fuck--" You squeak, feeling his hand reach down to cup your clothed sex.

He could feel the heat there roll off in waves right into his palm, a slight dampness sticking through to his skin.

He groaned into your tit before popping free.

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart."

You comply, letting him pull your suit down the rest of the way, careful of your bandaged ankle, even if it wasn't hurt that badly.

He hissed out a sigh between his teeth when he laid eyes on your wet and puffy sex, glossy from your arousal; the hair just above cut into a small heart.

God damn, you weren't wearing underwear, either.

Did you always wear your suit like this? One bad rip away from bearing it all...

The thought of you fighting like this, your suit getting torn juuuust right had his cock leaking at the mental image.

He didn't waste any time, his mouth immediately went in, his tongue stroking your folds before thrusting and twirling your clit.

He reminded himself of the things he'd done before.

'Same old song and dance, remember what you learned...'

And damn did he like how you were squirming.

His hair wasn't long enough to grip, a short, military buzz cut that he kept out of habit. His eyes glazed in the most gorgeous way as they locked glances with yours as his mouth devoured you like he was a starving man.

He lifted his mouth off of you, his chin shiny and slick.

"Fuck, you're so wet. D'you always get like this?" He hissed out, gliding his fingers through your folds, before plunging into your depths and curling in the most delicious way.

You nod, whimpering needily. "C-can't help it... ah--always g-get like this..."

"You're like a goddamned fountain. All this for me?" He breathed, kissing the little dip of your hip bone as he continued to fuck you with his hand, kneeling between your legs like a man kneeling before his god.

And, hell, you were already so close, his long thick fingers worked wonders inside, stroking that little spot inside that had your vision going dark at the edges.

You clawed desperately at him, at the sheets, gripping your hair as you cried out, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Any woman dumb enough to pass this Peter Parker up was a fucking dumbass. They were missing out.

"P-P-Peter--" You babble out, whimpering pathetically.

"That's it..." He urges you quietly, shifting his body so his mouth was at the shell of your ear, his hand not moving from out of your cunt.

He pressed the heel of his palm into your clit, rolling it in time with your hips and the crook of his fingers as your orgasm crested.

"Good girl... let it out."

You whined loudly, ripping at the green uniform he wore over his suit as your climax slammed into you, your muscles squeezing his fingers so tightly he swore you could probably break them; more of your juices gushing out and soaking his hand and the sheets below.

He breathed heavily into your skin as he slowly moved his fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were calm.

"Fuck." You panted, dropping your head onto the mattress.

"Oh, it'll happen." He sighs, giving you a smirk that creases the corners of his eyes.

You watch as he palms the bulge in his pants, and your hands tug on his shirt.

"Ah, I... c... can I..?" You blunder.

"Sure can, sweetheart." He all but purrs. "Be mindful of your ankle."

You give him a wet hungry kiss before switching places with him, helping him undress and kneeling between his legs.

And the sight that greeted you sent a fresh throb to your cunt.

His cock looked about seven inches, and the girth was enough to make your head spin. Veins swirled up the shaft, his tip vivid and leaking as you gripped it, your fingertips barely touching.

You give him a few pumps, your toes curling at the sounds he let out.

"You ever do this before? I should have asked..." he panted down at you, eyes locking with yours as you kissed his weeping tip.

"Yeah. I've done it a few times." You say.

You're worried about how he'd take that, knowing you weren't exactly innocent. But the look on his face and the way he bites his lip quashes your worries.

"Shit. Alright, babydoll. You lead on this one." He groaned.

You shove down the grin you want to make, instead settling for swallowing his cock as deep as you could, your jaw already straining at the stretch of him. You were really happy you didn't have a gag reflex, right now. Your exes were more than happy to abuse that fact.

You shake of the thought when you hear his voice grow shaky, his fingers gripping in your hair as you bob your head.

"Oh fuck..."

You stroke with your tongue, jerking him with your hand each time you pulled back, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue.

You weren't afraid to get a little messy, letting saliva drip down to help lubricate your fist, the sounds of you sucking him off and the noises he was making filling the suite rivaling only the raunchiest of porn videos you've perused on the internet.

You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you liked to think you were pretty good.

Your hand cupped his balls gently, as you kept pulling your head back and pushing back down, feeling them tighten in your palm.

"Ah, fuck--" He moaned. "I'm gonna... fuck!"

He tried to pull you back, he really did, but you were a woman on a mission and he just couldn't resist your drive and focus on the task at hand.

He emptied his cock down your throat, his teeth gritting tightly as he tipped his head back, eyes screwed shut and sweat dripping down his brow.

He was stupid as fuck for not noticing how you were looking to him these past few months.

You pull off of him with a lewd pop, and kiss his tip one last time before resting your chin on one of his knees.

You batted your eyelashes and smiled up at him.

"You still alive?" You teased.

He looked down at you and shook his head, petting your hair affectionately.

"You're a little shit. C'mere."

You squeak and giggle when he pulls you up, pressing you down into the sterile-smelling bedding as his mouth finds yours again, tongues dancing as you card your nails through his short hair.

He groans again, a noise you wanted to hear a lot more often.

You part your legs for him, grinning into his mouth as you feel his cock pressing against you, still rock hard and ready to go.

"Aww... you're pent up, huh?" You purr, licking the pulse in his neck.

"Keep it up and I won't give it to you." He growled.

You instantly lay back and bite your lip, looking up at him with a glimmer in your eyes that made his heart flip, being obedient.

His good girl.

Damn, he could get used to calling you that.

He could get used to seeing how your eyes rolled back as he sunk his cock into you with a slow grind of his hips.

"Fuck..." You moaned, the girth of his cock felt bigger inside you than it did in your palm, the stretch toeing the line between painful and pleasurable as you felt the drag of his shaft inside your velvety walls.

He bottomed out inside of you, holding there, his hips flush against yours as he moans deeply in your ear.

"So fucking tight." He grunted, one of his arms next to your head, fisting the pillow as his other hand gripped at your hip, his fingers probably leaving bruises in their wake.

"I... I'm not gonna lie. Fuck, I don't think I'm gonna last long."

It made him feel a little inadequate, sure, but he wasn't gonna lie to you. It had been ages since he'd last had sex with somebody, and the feel of your mouth and tight pussy were enough to drive any man insane.

"Don't care. Keep going..." You whine, your nails digging into his shoulders as you kiss his jaw.

His eyes rolled back and he turned his head so his mouth could meet yours as he pulled himself out almost entirely, before slamming into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He set a rough and brutal pace for himself, burying his nose in your hair and breathing deeply as he gets lost in your cunt shivering at your nails scratching down the muscles in his back, leaving angry red marks.

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as his cock punched you mercilessly, gliding in and out of your slick walls as he grunted and panted in your ear with wild desperation.

"Oh god, oh fuck--" You squeak out as he takes your hips in both of his hands and pulls you up, pistoning in and out of you like a machine.

He's all but bent in half as he says things to you in your ear, filthy praises about how good you feel around him, how sweet you are, his good you taste, how much better you feel wrapped around him than his own fist.

It was enough to send your head into a tailspin.

"My good girl." He grunted, biting softly at your ear lobe.

You shudder, your muscles clenching around him at what he said, and he makes what can only be described as a whining sound as he slaps his hips into yours, almost disoriented as he pumps you full, fucking you through his orgasm as he paints your velvet walls a sheen of white.

You're both breathing heavy, sweaty, and hot as his cock twitched with the remnants of his almost mind-numbing orgasm.

"Shit." He hissed. "You didn't--"

"I'm fine." You mumbled, brain still fuzzy from the ferocity in which he fucked you.

"Uh-uh." He sighs, keeping his softening cock sheathed inside you as he brings his fingers to your swollen clit, desperately circling the swollen bundle of nerves.

"Wan' you to cum on my cock. Come on, babydoll." He said through gritted teeth, feeling your walls flutter around him.

Your thighs squeezed against his hips as his fingers worked feverishly at your clit, his hips rolling into yours lazily as he dragged his barely half-hard cock in and out, adding extra stimulation.

Your second orgasm came harder than the last one, your whole body almost seizing up as you clawed at his shoulders, your hands falling to grip at his biceps as you babbled incoherently, mumbling his name as you gushed around him, his eyes rolling back at the sensation.

"That's it, sweetheart..." He praised, watching you come undone beneath him.

He dropped down on his elbows, his arms on either side of your head as he caged you in, giving you soft kisses, his lips spelling silent "I love you's" all the way down your neck and back up again.

He rolled off of you, pulling out and tucking you against him as you both basked in the afterglow, feeling small bits of his cum dripping out of you.

"Hey, doc...." You say affectionately, your fingers trailing circles lazily on his chest.

"Hm?" He hummed, his hand toying with your hair.

"What am I gonna do about my sprained ankle?"

"Hnh." He grunted softly.

"Gonna need some bed rest, I think. Here in the med bay, to be safe."

"Oh? And you're gonna take care of me?" You giggle innocently.

"Somebody has to make sure you don't exacerbate your injury."

[tcrturedpoetsdepartment]

"𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐- 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕? 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝?" - M.A. 8.11

. THIS IS A SIDEBLOG . ALL FOLLOWS WILL BE FROM THE URL: . @somethingbcrrowed !!!

. Independent. Selective. . Multi-Fandom. Multi-Muse. Multi-Verse. Multi-Ship. . AU/OC/Duplicate/Crossover Friendly . Please read the rules before interacting!

. Cared for by Jamie / 30+ (she/they) / MINORS DNI

. . Rules - Fandoms & Muses - Prompts & Starters .

Come Find Me At My Other RP Blogs:

intergalacticstarlight (doctor who multimuse) therainbcwroom (stranger things multimuse sideblog ; follows from intergalacticstarlight) endcfanempire (star wars multimuse) kingdomsreign (padme amidala blog) inkwellsandbroomsticks (antijkr wizarding world multimuse) capitoldarlings (hunger games multimuse) somethingbcrrowed (klaus hargreeves blog)

CONTENT WARNINGS & RULES UNDER THE CUT FOR MOBILE:

CONTENT WARNING:

This blog contains characters from A Song Of Ice And Fire/Game Of Thrones/House Of The Dragon/Fire And Blood, Outlander, Those About To Die, Titanic, Pirates of The Caribbean, Red Dragon/Silence of The Lambs/Hannibal and more. I don't remove anything or avoid anything for the sake of comfort as I feel all of it is absolutely necessary to the story and the characters therein. With that in mind, please remember that the triggering content listed below isn't the entirety of what you might find here, but it does cover the vast majority of it.:

graphic sexual content, prostitution, smoking cigarettes, incest, heavy drug use, alcoholism, fictional religion and fictional religious propaganda or cults based on real religions, fictional politics and fictional political propaganda based on real politics and propo, fictional classism, fictional racism/xenophobia/prejudice/color bias (no slurs will be used in any form), demonology and demonic chanting, witchcraft, drowning, hanging, beheading, suicide, cannibalism, varying degrees of mental illness including C-PTSD, NPD and undiagnosed ASPD, graphic violence, graphic descriptions of gore including torture, major character deaths, childbirth, child loss, pregnancy, pregnancy loss (miscarriage and stillbirth), blood, noncon and dubcon, reanimation, necromancy, mind control, brainwashing, memory manipulation and implantation, medical experimentation and torture, living autopsies, psychological/emotional abuse and manipulation, domestic violence/abuse, mentions of CSA (nothing graphic or written out, mostly just implications/disclosure or bits and pieces of flashbacks) and more.

No matter what your triggers may be, please blacklist them with the format used below and, unless it's something I don't realize requires tagging, it should work to keep it off your dash. . cw alcoholism . cw addiction . cw dead dove . cw dead dove content DISCLAIMER: WRITING IT DOES NOT MEAN ENDORSEMENT. I will never mock, insult, make fun of, glorify or romanticize any of the topics listed above, nor any of the other dark topics that may lurk on my blog. They will, however, be portrayed realistically which may include glorification and compartmentalization/ victim blaming/ predator apologia from the muses themselves as they experience and process these things first hand. These topics will always be treated with the most respect possible while still keeping everything in character.

THE RULES:

IF YOU’RE PRIVATE/MUTUALS ONLY and don’t plan to follow be back once I’ve followed you, please softblock me so that I unfollow you. I have a mutuals tracker but it glitches sometimes.

IF I FOLLOW YOU and there’s something in your rules that would prevent us from writing together, it was an oversight. Simply softblock me so I unfollow you or hardblock me if you feel the need.

IF YOU FOLLOW ME USING A MAIN BLOG FOR A SIDEBLOG THAT I’VE FOLLOWED, please let me know which sideblog it’s for if it’s not obvious or linked somewhere on your blog.

I’M 30+ IN AGE AND I DO NOT WRITE WITH ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. The muses also have to be over 18 for there to be anything more than non-detailed kissing/‘making out’ and fading to black/hinting at stuff happening. THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS TO THIS RULE.

I DO HAVE A DISCORD as well as a RoleplayNation account, both of which are available to MUTUALS of mine upon request.

This blog is INDEPENDENT & SELECTIVE. That means it’s not based off of or directly linked to any other roleplaying blog on this site or anywhere else and that I’m very selective about who I write with.

This blog is MULTIFANDOM, MULTIMUSE, MULTISHIP, MULTIVERSE, OCS, CROSSOVERS & DUPLICATES. Multifandom means I write in many different fandoms on this blog. Multimuse means I write for many different muses/characters on this blog. Multiship means I write several different relationships for my muses, and they’re all separate and individual unless specified otherwise. Multiverse means I write my muses in different Universes, sometimes totally different (Alternate) and sometimes along the same vein just slightly altered (canon divergent or crossovers). OC’s, Crossovers and Duplicates means I welcome original characters, crossovers between fandoms and that I don’t mind if you write for the same muses that I do. If you want to block a muse tag of mine, please see my Tags List.

SHIPPING HAPPENS AND SMUT/GRAPHIC CONTENT WILL BE PRESENT HERE. I ship based off of chemistry and chemistry alone, regardless of who the muse happens to be. See my Tags List for how to format blacklisted tags.

UNLESS YOU’RE WRITING THE THREADS WITH ME, DON’T REBLOG THEM. You can reblog lyricals, musings and headcanons unless stated otherwise in the tags though.

NO HATE OR BULLYING OF ANY KIND WILL BE TOLERATED HERE. This includes actively posting anti content, callouts (that aren’t warranted), sending “helpful” anons or anon hate, things like hateposts about cast members, faceclaims, musicians, showrunners, etc.. I just don’t want to see it or deal with it. The only exception is if I post something requesting anon hate for in character responses, which I normally never do anyway.

NO GODMODING OR METAGAMING, unless it’s plotted out beforehand or it’s used VERY LIGHTLY in interactions with characters(muses) where that would be possible or even warranted, such as characters with powers/abilities or during violent and action filled sequences. In those cases, SOME godmodding or metagaming may be applied.

DO NOT ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER IS ALREADY IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MINE unless it’s been seen in canon already, we've plotted it/agreed to it beforehand or we’re friends OOC. Likewise, DO NOT assume your character and mine have children already. I don’t mind if you send in ‘tell my muse your muse is pregnant’ memes if it’s portrayed as unexpected and due to a fling, though.

ANY PROMPTS, MEMES, QUESTIONS OR STARTERS THAT I POST/REBLOG WILL NEVER EXPIRE, meaning you can send them in at any time even if they’re a year or more old. Please understand that I’m allowed to choose what I do and do not respond to. If I don’t respond to something you’ve sent, please send another thing! I don’t mind if you send 10 prompts, it gives me more to choose from when finding inspiration to write.

[jupiterleaps]

Complete Febuwhump Masterlist

Complete series list on AO3 here; individual fic links under the cut.

Day One: Helpless

our share of night cw: sexual assault, medical examination, kidnapping, attempted murder

Day Two: Solitary Confinement

the first of many cw: imprisonment, torture, ptsd, anxiety attacks

Day Three: "Bite down on this."

texture cw: food texture issues, ableism, bullying (sort of)

Day Four: Obedience

consolation, cw: kinky stuff, some d/s & roleplaying

Day Five: Rope Burns

here a mist, and there a mist, cw: aftermath of rape

Day Six: "You lied to me."

like a flipped switch, cw: child abuse

Day Seven: Suffering in Silence

many happy returns, cw: offscreen canonical minor character death

Day Eight: "Why won't it stop?"

the sound of drums

Day Nine: Immortality (alternate prompt) (Fic based on the 'Bees' prompt to come later, because I ran out of time)

once more, with feeling

Day Ten: Killing in Self-Defense

first, do no harm

Day Eleven: Time Loop

second verse same as the first, cw: child abuse

Day Twelve: Semi-Conscious

the bubble, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd

Day Thirteen: "You weren't supposed to get hurt."

17 Scenes on a Pull-out Couch, cw: aftermath of rape, canonical minor character death, ptsd, anxiety, flashbacks, dissociation

Day Fourteen: Blood-stained Tiles

and dandy

Day Fifteen: "Who did this to you?"

an easy answer, cw: torture

Day Sixteen: Came Back Wrong

In Which Ianto Rescues a Helpless Victim

Day Seventeen: Hostage Situation

Unethical Hostage Maneuvers for Fun and Profit

Day Eighteen: Too Weak to Move

live and learn and lie in bed

Day Nineteen "Please don't."

knowing, cw: past canonical minor character death, pregnancy

Day Twenty: Truth Serum

In Vino Veritas

Day Twenty-One: Unresponsive

Third Wheeling, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd, dissociation

Day Twenty-Two: "You weren't meant to be there."

A Very Torchwood Welcome

Day Twenty-Three: Human Weapon (alternate prompt)

trudging along, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd, panic attack/anxiety

Day Twenty-Four: "I'm doing this because I care about you."

Interlude: I'm Doing This Because I Care About You, cw: aftermath of rape, trauma

Day Twenty-Five: CPR (alternate prompt)

unfinished business

Day Twenty-Six: "Help them."

priorities

Day Twenty-Seven: Left for Dead

Left for Dead, Right for an Unpleasant Stroll

Day Twenty-Eight: "No...not like this."

the fork in the road, cw: torture

Day Twenty-Nine: Not Allowed to Die

promises you can't keep still count, cw: pregnancy

[somethingbcrrowed]

🇭​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇩​​🇴​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇰​​🇳​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇼​​🇭​​🇴​ ​🇮​ ​🇦​​🇲​?​​ 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝐼 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝐼'𝒹 𝒹𝑜… 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉. 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒? 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓏𝑒𝓃, 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎… 🇭​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇩​​🇴​ ​🇮​ ​🇰​​🇳​​🇴​​🇼​ ​🇼​​🇭​​🇴​ ​🇮​ ​🇦​​🇲​?

CONTENT WARNING: This blog contains material that some readers may find very disturbing. Reader's discretion is highly advised.

. Independent. Selective. Multi-Verse. Multi-Ship. . AU/OC/Duplicate/Crossover Friendly . Please read the rules before interacting!

. Cared for by Jamie / 30+ (she/they) / MINORS DNI

. ✩ Rules ✩ Backstory ✩ Universes ✩ Prompts & Starters ✩ . ✩Tags List✩

Wondering why on Earth I followed you if you're not in the Umbrella Fandom? It's probably for my sideblog below: tcrturedpoetsdepartment (multifandom multimuse sideblog including ASOIAF, HOTD, Outlander, Vampire C.hronicles, The MCU and more; follows from this blog, somethingbcrrowed)

Come Find Me At My Other RP Blogs:

intergalacticstarlight (doctor who multimuse ) therainbcwroom (stranger things multimuse sideblog ; follows from intergalacticstarlight, iconless) endcfanempire (star wars multimuse) kingdomsreign (padme amidala blog) inkwellsandbroomsticks (antijkr wizarding world multimuse, iconless) capitoldarlings (hunger games multimuse, iconless)

CONTENT WARNINGS & RULES (under the cut for mobile users):

CONTENT WARNING:

Please keep in mind that the potentially triggering content listed below isn't the entirety of what you might find here, but it does cover the vast majority of it:

graphic sexual content, prostitution, smoking cigarettes, heavy drug use, alcoholism, fictional religion and fictional religious propaganda or cults, fictional politics and fictional political propaganda, fictional classism, fictional racism/xenophobia/prejudice/color bias (time travel purposes ; nothing graphic, no slurs will be used), demonology, witchcraft, drowning, hanging, suicide, varying degrees of mental illness including C-PTSD, NPD and ASPD, graphic violence, graphic descriptions of gore, major character deaths, childbirth, child loss, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, blood, noncon and dubcon, reanimation, necromancy, torture, mind control, brainwashing, memory manipulation and implantation, medical experimentation, living autopsies, medical torture, psychological/emotional abuse and manipulation, domestic violence/abuse, CSA (nothing graphic, mostly flashbacks or implications/disclosure) and more.

No matter what your triggers may be, please blacklist them with the format used below and, unless it's something I don't realize requires tagging, it should work to keep it off your dash. Same for spoiler posts.

. cw alcoholism . cw addiction . cw dead dove . cw dead dove content . cw s04 canon . tua spoilers . s4 spoilers . spoilers

DISCLAIMER: WRITING IT DOES NOT MEAN ENDORSEMENT. I will never mock, insult, make fun of, glorify or romanticize any of the topics listed above, nor any of the other dark topics that may lurk on my blog. They will, however, be portrayed realistically which may include glorification and compartmentalization/victim blaming/predator apologia from the mind of Klaus Hargreeves himself as he experiences and processes these things first hand. These topics will always be treated with the most respect possible while still keeping it in character.

RULES:

If you're Mutuals Only (Private) and don’t plan to follow be back once I’ve followed you, please softblock me so that I unfollow you. I'm not mutuals only and even though I have a mutuals tracker, sometimes it glitches because this place loves to fix what wasn't broken.

If I follow you it means I want to rp with you and welcome you to interact, whether it be tagging me in a random starter, inboxing to plot or sending memes and prompts to me. Even if we owe replies and have already sent each other tons of stuff, please feel free to send more.

None of my prompts or memes ever expire, and I encourage you to send as many as you can/want to. The more the merrier. It gives me more to work with and lets me be more creative. Even if I haven't answered many, just send more and the likelihood will increase!

If you're following me from a main blog, please let me know which sideblog you run, especially if your main blog is a personal blog.

Minors DNI. I'm over 30 years old and will not write with anyone under the age of 18. Likewise, all muses must be over the age of 18 to write anything more than kissing, fading to black or implications. If you refuse to disclose your age or I find out you're lying about it I may block you outright.

I also write on Discord, Docs, Email and RPNation for Mutuals whom I've written with at least once or twice before. If you want to rp in any of those formats and we're not Mutuals, feel free to inbox me and we'll discuss it.

Shipping happens and smut will be present here. I ship based off of chemistry and I tag everything accordingly. I have no problems writing graphic, detailed smut and have no triggers when it comes to the written word (as of yet). I also use Read More cuts and Content Warnings on smut posts. If you don't write smut and/or don't want anything graphic, please tell me beforehand if it isn't in your rules/FAQs.

Don't assume Klaus is in a relationship with your muse, unless you write for David Katz. He also has no children that he knows of, though I'm fine with you sending pregnancy memes (so long as there's enough context).

Unless you're the one writing the thread with me, do not reblog it (liking it or commenting on it is fine, just don't reblog it). If you do, I'll inbox you to ask you politely to remove it. If you do, it's all good and if not, I'll send up to two more reminders (spaced out by a day or so in between, to be fair, as I know a lot of you aren't super active on here) before I block you. You can reblog anything else you find here, unless the tags tell you not to, so MIND THE TAGS!

No OOC hate or bullying of any kind will be tolerated here. This includes actively posting anti content, callouts (that aren’t warranted), sending “helpful” anons or anon hate, things like hateposts about cast members, faceclaims, musicians, showrunners, etc… I don't mind if you roast Klaus in my askbox, though, so long as it's in character. I ENJOYED S04.

No Godmodding, Metagaming or changing context completely without discussing it with me first, otherwise I'll lose inspo for the thread and it'll die out.

[kaiisers]

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA ꒰ heroes ꒱

contains mature content, aimed for +18 audiences. reader discretion is advised. most of these works are f! or afab! reader. ALSO! minors + blank + ageless blogs will be blocked.

⿻ last updated: jan. 13, '23

⌕ LEGEND

personal favorites : ♡

reader discretion advised, read content warnings : ✧ 

personal adds/assumption : italicized words

action between characters: &

𖨂 ⸱ ꕤ ⸱ TAKAMI KEIGO ⸱ 鷹見啓悟

exhale. ──── 1.3k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ with such a pretty neck, you must simply allow keigo's hands to wander.

cw. fem! reader, 18+, reader is in heat, mating, marking, hickeys, choking, asphyxiation, breath play, nipple play, cowgirl, riding, creampie, knotting, petnames, dubcon

flying through your ranks. ──── complete

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ you’re an up and coming pro hero; fresh faced, roaring through your twenties with your highly successful U.A years far behind you. but when one little drunk slip up has you falling through the hero ranks, will a single pretty bird of prey help you soar back up? or will you end up falling for him?

cw. angst, fluff, smut. pro hero! au, social media au, fake dating!au. swearing ( mostly bakugou ), suggestive, rated 17+, slight!age gap, everyone is aged-up into their twenties since they’re pros now

✧ hades. ──── 5.4k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ as a naive little girl in love you make a deal that gets you stuck with the unrelenting god of the underworld, and no matter how sweet he may fuck you…you’ll spend all of eternity hating him if you have to.

cw. hate sex. please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, mentions of death, restraints, marking, branding, creampies, thigh riding, impact play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, possesive sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fem!reader, hades!hawks.

oh captain, my captain. ──── 2.2k

cw. smut. pirate au, gn!reader, captain!hawks, first mate!reader. sub!hawks, pegging, handjob (m!receiving), cumplay, whiny hawks needs his first mate to ease his stress &lt;3

refuge. ──── 3.6k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ you maybe underestimated what exactly a ‘rut’ was like.

cw. smut. rut au. breeding, praise kink, oral, piv sex, ‘ruts’/’heat’ trope. discussion of pregnancy and birth control, bird themed pet names i think they are cute idk. afab reader with fem pronouns

𖨂 ⸱ ꕤ ⸱ AIZAWA SHŌTA ⸱ 相澤消太

♡ as it was. ──── completed

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ Where do you go now? When a love you thought to be unshakeable starts to fall apart before you could even try to piece it together? When Nemuri urges you to take a trip to the beach house in Okinawa with Aizawa in an effort to save whatever is left of your marriage, you’re hesitant. Not sure where to go or how to navigate this situation. But you take the opportunity anyway, maybe a month away will force whatever the both of you have been burying deep inside to the surface. Unsure if it will lead to devastating heartbreak or lost love to be found again.

cw. Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship, Marital Problems, Beach House Setting, Flashbacks, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content(18+ only)

♡ fill my little world (right up). ──── 20k+

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

cw. AFAB reader, no quirk au, single dad aizawa (+ adopted daughter eri, + prev. foster son hitoshi), professional nanny reader, falling in love, fluff and angst, slice of life, child ptsd + past child abuse (eri), aged-up characters, best friends touya + rumi, brief talk of a parent with addiction (hitoshi), domesticity, handling of child trauma, finding your place in a family, eventual smut, vaginal oral sex (reader receiving), a lot of kissing, no power dynamic

i know i cannot heal you but i will hold you here forever. ──── 2.5k

cw. 18+ minors dni + gn reader + bottom reader + hurt/comfort (? kinda i think) + both of them being touched starved + sleep deprivation + pre-established relationship + oral (reader receiving).

♡ lap cat. ──── 7.8k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ you never thought you’d be the type of person to own a hybrid, but after learning his odds of adoption are low due to his age, you can’t just leave Shouta behind.

cw. NSFT, AFAB reader, hybrid au (half animal half human), cat hybrid aizawa, NOT A/B/O, transformations (shifting between cat and human), brief look into the politics of hybrids (we like autonomy in this house folks, but I'll say dubcon just in case), animal characteristics (behavioural and physical), fluff and smut, voyeurism, male masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, roommates(?) to lovers, brief mentions of child abuse (reader is a child therapist)

take yours, I’ll take mine. ──── 3.3k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ Shouta carried a multitude of skills under his belt, and one of them happened to be knowing how to ration his energy. The exhaustion that came with being both an underground hero and a teacher at UA was unavoidable, and he had learned over the years what does and does not require his full effort. Mornings in bed with you requires very little of him.

cw. AFAB GN reader, established relationship, bottom aizawa (called love and baby), morning sex, reader is a giver, light somno, no power dynamics, anal fingering (aizawa receiving), handjobs, pegging (reader wears the strap; referred to as ‘your cock’ a few times), missionary position

true heat.

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ Quirks may be one step in human evolution, but the secondary genders are another. Alpha, Beta, or Omega: everyone presents one way or the other by their 21st birthday. You're a college student at UA University with a little problem; you have yet to present. With your 21st birthday approaching rapidly, something has to happen, and soon. Aizawa is a teacher at UA University, and an Alpha. So when his favorite student is suddenly ill, he does what any concerned teacher would do. Right?

cw. Aizawa x AFAB! Reader. Reader has female parts, all the typical A/B/O tropes, professor/student relationship.

who do you belong to? ──── 4.2k

cw. fem reader. smut, cursing

𖨂 ⸱ ꕤ ⸱ TODOROKI ENJI ⸱ 轟炎司

cola. ──── 2.4k

cw. smut. pro hero!enji x pro hero!reader sex Pollen, Cheating, Breeding, Public Sex

daddy’s favourite issue.

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ loving the great endeavor was a euphoria you never wanted to quit. he was an inferno, a blazing glory of an old man who doesn’t talk to his kids because they all hate him. he’s a bad man wrapped in the packaging of a good guy, a hero.

cw. smut, rough sex, riding, sugar daddy au, filth.

give and take. ──── 5.0k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ enji has always thought pain was good, that it meant he was well on his way to the top. but you seem to make him have doubts when your touch is gentle like that.

cw. smut. established relationship au. afab! reader, dom! reader, hand jobs, edging, humping, cock slapping, slight degradation, ruined orgasms, unprotected sex, cowgirl, creampie, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, mentions of toxic families (it’s the todoroki’s hello), enji and rei are implied to be divorced (no cheating or home-wrecking)

moth to a flame. ──── 6.6k+

cw. explicit, smut. authority/power-play, boss/employee relationship, age-gap, size difference/size kink, public heavy petting/fingering, rough sex, desk sex, praise kink, use of “good girl,” light choking/breath play, hand pressed over reader’s mouth, hair pulling, creampie (Enji is implied to be divorced, no cheating) trapped in an elevator for a while, so warnings for claustrophobia and elevators in general.

oni’s heart. ──── completed

cw. Yakuza AU series: Alpha Enji Todoroki x Omega Reader. Illegal activities (crime family), mentions of drugs, alcohol, and human trafficing, heavy mentions of blood and (very light) mentions of murder but TW, mating, biting, knotting, bonding, creampie, primal kink, scent kink, mentions of past domestic abuse, mentions of past childhood trauma (Shoto’s scar), kidnapping, comfort after hurt. (Happy ending I promise, I don't like to leave things sour)

when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it. ──── 12.4k

cw. fire demon! enji todoroki x fem! reader. exophilia/teratophilia, size difference, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, mentions of human sacrifices, mentions of demonic transformation, mentions of death/dying, kidnapping, strangers to lovers

♡ when the smoke clears. ──── 17.4k

⌜ ୨୧ ⌟ After his battle with Hawks against Hood, Endeavor wakes up in the hospital to find that a young doctor saved his life, their quirk being able to counteract the negative effects of his own. His first thought is that he has to talk to you–you might be able to fix the drawbacks of his quirk. His second thought is oh no, not again.

cw. slow burn, smut. 18+, spanking, quirk play, age difference (Endeavor is 46, reader is 29) Soulmate AU.

soft.

cw. Enji Todoroki x Chubby F!Reader - SMUT. breeding kink, chubby reader, Enji carries reader, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy

[shion-yu]

Day 25 - Nightmares/Flashback

Rey's not the same when he comes home. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Rey - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741197.rey . This one's a long one!

CW/TWs: PTSD, Minor whump (Rey is 17 here)

Clerval had known Rey longer than he could say about anything else in his entire life. His father was the king’s chief advisor and close personal confidant. As a result, he was Rey’s first, and frankly only friend. He loved the twins Reynauldus and Mira. Since he was three years older, he naturally took on an older brother role but was also still the right age to be a playmate. Although he was close to both of them, it quickly became apparent that Rey was special to Clerval. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Rey never left Clerval alone. The young boy was very attached to him and wanted to do everything that Clerval did. He seemed to connect with Clerval in a way that nobody else could connect to Rey, even his exasperated parents the King and Queen. If Rey was upset, Clerval was called to calm him down. If Rey was bored, Clerval was called to play with him. He didn’t mind, because Rey adored him and it was nice to be idolized, especially by someone who was as special as the prince. Still, it kept him busy. 

Sometimes Clerval did feel a little jealous of Rey. Rey appeared to get whatever he wanted and nobody in the castle ever seemed to tell him no. But Rey had a strange air about him that even Clerval didn’t understand. He often wanted to be left alone to daydream, something that his parents reprimanded him for. Rey hated the lessons that he and Mira had to attend, whether it was history, etiquette or even athletic training. It became so bad that Clerval was eventually ordered to attend the twins’ private schooling because at least then he could help keep Rey straight. All Rey ever wanted to do was explore the grounds and, as they got older, sneak out of the castle to explore the village. Clerval tried to tell him no, but he knew Rey’s curiosity would never be tamed. So sometimes he let the younger boy “slip away” for a while, but only under Clerval’s watchful eye. Clerval was particularly good at disguising himself and the prince so that they could walk around undetected. During these visits, Clerval saw that Rey's eyes sparkled with an excitement he never saw elsewhere. 

“I wish I was a bird. Then I could fly away from here,” Rey told him one day. And then, a few years later, he did. He simply disappeared on his own adventure, telling no one. Clerval searched and searched for him, but there was no indication where Rey had gone. Clerval felt guilty - he was supposed to protect and watch Rey always, after all. But Rey had gone in the dead of night, having climbed down his window using a thick rope while Clerval had slept in his own bed on the other side of the castle. He thought that if Rey had told anyone, it would have been him. There was a stinging sense of betrayal that he hadn’t. Perhaps some anger mixed in as well. Certainly a deep feeling of loss. 

When Rey came back several months later, however, any resentment Clerval had died that same day. Rey was changed into a completely different person. He barely seemed to recognize Clerval at first, flinching when anyone came close to him. And that was when he was lucid - half of the time the prince was distraught and seemed to regard every person who came close to him as a mortal threat. He would scream in his sleep as if someone were torturing him, and anyone who tried to wake him up was subject to surprising physical resistance prompted by a look of abject terror on Rey's face. Clerval was sent to calm Rey down many times, as he had done so many times as they were children - but it wasn’t as simple as patting the head of a little boy whose favorite toy had broken. It was Rey’s very soul that was damaged and Clerval didn’t know how to fix it. He tried being gentle, being stern, evoking old memories or encouraging new adventures, but it was no use. Nothing really seemed to help. Except sometimes when Rey was crying, Clerval would slowly approach Rey, step by careful step, until Rey let Clerval gather him in his arms and hold him close. Clerval would hush him and rock him like he was only a baby until he fell asleep, tear tracks always present on the boy’s face. These moments were painful for Clerval because he saw his precious friend had truly been damaged during his time away. 

Whatever it was they’d done to Rey, Rey wouldn’t speak about. When asked questions he would either stare blankly or begin to panic, so everybody was forbidden to ask. Just once, though, Rey told Clerval a little bit. He said that he’d been kept in a dark prison where the floor was made of hard, damp dirt. It was always cold, Rey said. And there was another boy who had helped him. “It’s my fault he died,” Rey had whispered. “It’s all my fault. My fault, my fault.” He repeated it over and over, progressively working himself up more and more until Clerval had to pin him down in bed with all his strength so that Rey didn’t hurt himself. Rey thrashed against him until Clerval yelled for help and the doctor injected Rey with something to sleep. 

Erasing Rey’s memory was a last resort, a choice that was made by the King and Queen after it was clear that Rey could not live like this any longer. He refused food and eventually had stopped speaking altogether. Doctors, healers, even traditional herbalists from all over the kingdom were called to try and help, but there was no relief that they could give him other than to sleep. There was nothing else they could do, it seemed. Although magical cures and potions could ease Rey’s physical suffering, they did nothing to fix his mind. So eventually, the chief physician hypnotized Rey to forget the past two years. It wasn’t a complete erasure, but it was enough to help. Rey slept for one very long month, and when he awoke, he was no longer catatonic. In fact he was much like a child who had woken up from a bad dream. Although he was easily frightened and confused, he didn’t seem to be able to remember exactly what it was that had upset him. He began to talk and eat again, and eventually he returned to some semblance of a normal person. He wasn’t the same person as he was before, Clerval thought, but he was no longer just a tortured soul stuck in a failing body. His eyes seemed to finally see what was in front of them again.

During Rey’s recuperation, Clerval spent many hours pushing Rey in a wheelchair around the castle grounds, letting him see every inch like he used to like so much. Rey didn’t say much, but he seemed to be pleased by it. Once Rey was walking again, Clerval even brought him to town disguised as they used to do, attempting to entice Rey with the excitement of adventure. He held Rey’s hand and led him down the cobble road streets, speaking in a patient tone about all the shops they used to buy small knick knacks and treats from. He caught Rey smiling at the candy apples, and that smile grew when Clerval bought him one to try. But when Rey saw a teenage boy with white hair, he suddenly shut down and wouldn't walk any farther. He simply stared after the direction that the boy had gone as if frozen in place. Eventually Clerval carried him back to the castle and put him to bed.

Things did get better, slowly. Rey got some of his sarcastic humor back. He rejoined his lessons, although Clerval still had to drag him there most days because Rey would rather be reading in the library. He became less dependent on Clerval and spent more time alone without everybody worrying he might hurt himself if he wasn’t being watched constantly. Although it seemed that things were back to normal - or as normal as they were ever going to get - Clerval knew that Rey was as fragile as porcelain. He always kept a close eye on the prince and tried to learn what upset him so he could keep those things from Rey the best he could. For example, a door slamming loudly seemed to trigger Rey’s nerves, so Clerval learned to always walk behind Rey so that he could be sure to close them gently. The dark seemed to scare Rey too, but Clerval brought him a small lamp to keep in his room at night and positioned it in a way so that the shadow it cast was minimal. He didn’t often sleep with Rey, but he did so enough to become familiar with Rey’s nightmares. Rey wouldn’t - or couldn’t - tell Clerval what they were about, but certain themes seemed to repeat themselves based on the things Rey mumbled to himself in his sleep. Shadows. Footsteps. Cages. Needles.

Rey had always been headstrong, but now he was delicate and seemed to observe everything for a long time before he made any reactions. He moved slowly and Clerval often thought he seemed like someone who had just woken up, still half asleep. He noticed that Rey seemed most at ease around the horses in the stables and liked to spend time brushing them, something he used to complain about when they were taught to take care of the animals as children. So on their second journey to town, Clerval bought him a small squirrel fox with green eyes. It reminded him of how Rey used to be - feisty. Rey fell in love with her and named her Freya, and for the first time Clerval saw Rey truly smile again. From that day forward, Freya was always on Rey’s shoulder. She seemed to know that Rey needed her and although she had no powers or physical prowess, she was as protective of Rey as Clerval was and hissed at anyone who approached him too quickly. She seemed to be the best medicine for him and Rey began making lasting progress in his recovery. 

As the years continued onward, Rey needed Clerval less and less. This was good, because Clerval was twenty-three now and couldn’t be there by Rey's side at all times. He had been offered an apprenticeship with the head doctor of the castle (the same one who had hypnotized Rey) and after careful consideration, he had accepted. One of his reasons for doing so was because someday, he truly wanted to see the Rey he’d grown up with again. A Rey who wasn't forever burdened by whatever had happened to him, even if he could no longer recall the details. Maybe if he learned enough, he could fix his dearest friend. But Rey was doing alright for himself these days. His parents treated him like he might break at any time and didn’t push him to do anything in particular, which he seemed to be fine with. But at twenty, Rey was the oldest unmarried prince in a century. His sister had married the prince from another kingdom and was successfully living with him there. So Clerval was not surprised when they delicately brought up the idea of marriage again.

The prospect of marriage was one of the things that had pushed Rey away in the first place. He had never wanted to marry Ilsa, his fiance since childhood. She was a dainty young girl with platinum blonde hair and Rey had clearly thought she was boring, although Clerval found her to be quite sweet. She was already well loved by Rey's parents, which is why it was somewhat of a surprise when they cautiously approached the topic of marriage to their son and suggested that this time, Rey find his own suitable partner. It surprised everyone far more when Rey said he wanted to leave the castle to find this partner. His parents were worried, but they also considered it a good sign that Rey wanted to do anything at all and gave their blessing. There was no way they were letting him go alone, though. Clerval was naturally the first person they asked to accompany Rey, but he was busy with his doctoral training and felt torn between what would ultimately benefit Rey more: his physical presence, or the knowledge he was gaining that would aid his attempt to help heal his best friend someday. 

“I’ll be fine,” Rey had told him, and Clerval was surprised when he found that he actually believed Rey. “They’re going to hire a guard to make sure I don’t get kidnapped again.” Clerval looked at him, baffled that he’d said such a thing. “It was a joke,” Rey said, and Clerval couldn’t help but laugh. Rey really had improved over the past three years. He now felt secure in his decision to continue studying instead of following Rey, because in the end, it was all for Rey anyways. 

Clerval hugged him. He felt Rey stiffen in his arms, although after a moment the younger man relaxed and lifted his own arms to return the embrace. Although Clerval had spent many long hours comforting Rey and holding him when he’d been so ill, they were not prone to this sort of contact in the light of day. “Come back to me in one piece,” Clerval told him. He pulled back and smiled at Rey.

Rey smiled back. It was a smile that Clerval knew he would do anything to protect. “I’ll come back,” Rey promised quietly. “I’ll always come back. I promise." Clerval patted Rey’s head affectionately. He knew Rey was telling the truth. And he'd wait as long as he needed for Rey to return - forever, if necessary.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

Content Warnings: NTTWIO 2.10

Content warnings for Act II Chapter 10 of Now That the World is Over below the cut. There are quite a few. Take care of yourselves, folks.

---

CW: gun use, improper firearm handling, referenced character deaths, drug use (pot), referenced/implied self harm, referenced/implied domestic abuse, minor injury, referenced PTSD/PTSD flashback, sexual content (not explicit), discussion of zombies/undeath, descriptions of human decay.

[pigeonwhumps]

"Did I do good?"

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch

Whumptember day 1: "Did I do good?" | mentor whumper | young hero | blood loss

1.3k

CWs: immortal whumpee, minor whump (aged 16), hero whump, abuse, panic attack, PTSD, implied flashback, burns, accidental whump, begging, training whump, misunderstandings, low self-esteem, caretaker new whumper, phobias, Whumpee convinced whumper is helping (I have no idea what to call it – conditioning? Brainwashing? Idk)

Phoenix sits and shivers in the kitchen, shins wound around the legs of the chair. Abbie lounges in a chair opposite, arms folded, legs stretched out comfortably. Her face is stern, like it usually is, they can't tell what she's thinking. It makes them unaccountably nervous.

They'd like to get something warm. But Abbie wants to do their review before they go anywhere, and as their mentor, she gets the final say.

"So, it's the end of your first month here. How do you think you're doing?"

Phoenix swallows. That's always the hardest part of anything. How do they think they've been doing? It's tricky to answer.

"I've, um, I've been learning, sir," they say, quietly but firmly.

"Hmm. I do think you should be learning faster. After all, you've barely improved since we first met, and that was two years ago now."

"Oh. Yes, sir."

They don't mention that for most of those two years, they weren't allowed to use their powers. Abbie already knows that. Instead, they swallow hard. There's something they need to know.

"Did I do good, sir? Today? So far?"

Abbie makes a considering noise.

"You're doing okay, but I can't say more than that. You really need to improve your control over your powers. You don't want them visible all the time." Her gaze moves pointedly to their flickering arms, which they quickly cover with their sleeves. "Quite frankly I'm not sure how long it's going to take you to learn control naturally. That's what these are for."

Abbie pulls out a pair of gleaming metal cuffs and sets them on the table. Phoenix feels like a bucket of ice has been tipped down their spine, and they don't know why.

"They'll suppress your powers, except for your immortality, which is always needed. I want you to feel what it's like not to have access to your powers, so you can work towards that feeling. I think it would be good for you."

Phoenix freezes. They feel both hot and cold, unable to move, staring. No. Nonono. If it's anything like when they stopped by choice that time for weeks, they really don't want it. Abbie says it's good for them, so it should be, right? But they're not sure they can cope with that.

"Please, sir, please, I can't stand it, please, anything else, just not that, please."

"Phoenix," growls Abbie, "what did we say about talking back?"

"Not to. But please, sir, anything else, I'll do whatever you want, I'll suppress it myself, I've done it before, I can do it, please please don't make me do this."

They're frantic, spitting out whatever comes through their mind, they can't do this, they can't, they have to get out of it, it's way too much, and maybe they deserve it but they can't cope with that.

It's not long before they feel a strong heat on their arm and yelp, then scream as it heats up until it scorches.

They're not going to cry. They've been through worse, emotionally speaking, they're not going to cry.

Abbie drags them through the corridors, her hand a burning brand on their already-bruised arm, until they reach a small door. Phoenix frowns at it. What's going on?

"I'm sorry, Phoenix, but you need to learn."

"What– no! No, please! I didn't, I didn't mean to, please don't!" They scramble forward from where they hit the back wall at Abbie's push, it's no more than a foot forward, but she blocks their path, and it's pitch-black dark around the edges all of a sudden, no lights inside. "Please, please let me out! I've learnt, I promise, please–"

Abbie raises an eyebrow. "You haven't, though. You need to learn how to control your powers, and you can't do it out here, there's a danger you'll hurt us. Give me your wrists."

Phoenix sticks them out, trembling, and Abbie locks cuffs around them. Immediately they go cold, empty, like what makes them them is being sucked out of them.

"Please," they whisper. "Please, Abbie, sir, don't shut me in here."

"I'm sorry. But it's for your own good. And ours."

Phoenix sniffs. She does look regretful, but then she shuts the door, and they can't help banging on it desperately. It's so dark and small and it's terrifying, they can't stop seeing the monsters that haunt it, that haunt them every time they're shut in the dark and the cold.

But then, Abbie can't know they're scared, right? It's not her fault.

"Please," they sob, desperately, as loud as they can but still not very loud. "Please, let me out. Please, sir, I'll learn, I'll be good, please."

But despite their pleas, no-one comes, and they discover that they are going to cry after all.

_

Aaron sits Phoenix down on his bed and passes them the mug of hot chocolate, carefully wrapping their hands around it when they don't move.

"Thank you, sir," they whisper, taking a sip that reveals the slightly-chipped triceratops inside.

"Hey. It's just me, Phoenix. It's only Aaron."

"Aaron." Their eyes start to fill with recognition, and Aaron nods.

"Yeah."

"I– I– what–"

"You freaked out after you got burned in a training bout. I'm so sorry about that, by the way, I didn't– it shouldn't have gone that far. I shouldn't have left you alone with him, even though he wasn't someone we already knew would hurt you. I'm not sure what you were thinking about, but it was pretty bad. You were begging."

Phoenix swallows, looking down, away from Aaron's gaze.

"I'm sorry. Did, um, did I do good, sir?"

"Yeah." They don't mention that they always do. Phoenix won't believe that. "Can you tell me what you were thinking about? You don't have to, but I'd like to help."

Phoenix sets down the hot chocolate and twists their hands together in their lap, not looking at Aaron.

"Abbie used to help me train by, um, taking away my powers so I knew what it felt like, so I could, um, work towards it. But she did it in the dark as a punishment, and, um, it wasn't big, and so when the power went out and you tried to treat the burn it was, um, too much. Too much. Please, sir, I don't– please."

They look up at him cautiously and gulp, mistaking his look of horror and disgust for one of... thoughtfulness, maybe? He's not sure. All he knows is that Phoenix says, trying their best not to sound reluctant or scared, "You can do it too if, um, if you like. I know I, um, deserve it. Just, if it's not too much, um, to ask, please, please can you not burn me on the way, sir. It's too much, um, with that as well."

"No. God no." Phoenix badly suppresses a flinch. "No, not that way round, I– shit. I'd never hurt you or punish you in that way. That's needlessly cruel." They can think of several other words for it, but they don't want Phoenix to shut down. And they will if confronted with the reality of Abbie's treatment.

"It wasn't always bad," murmurs Phoenix. "If, um, if I was good, if I apologised and learnt well enough, Abbie would let me out early. She did that a lot early on. She was, um, she was very lenient with me, despite how much I failed."

Aaron's jaw tightens in a way that makes Phoenix's eyes flash with fear before they cover it. Aaron squeezes their hand.

"Not angry at you, I promise. You should never have been forced in there in the first place. That's not the way to train someone. Your team should never have terrorised you to try and force you to learn."

Phoenix shakes their head, curling in towards Aaron. "They didn't terrorise me. I'm fine."

Aaron raises an eyebrow. "So your claustrophobia and nyctophobia hasn't gotten worse since you started here, then?"

And Phoenix... they don't have an answer to that.

[love-toxin]

Yandere fruity four have a whole thing where they cannot see you bleed, not after what happened in the upside down. So when you fall over playing tag with Robin and Eddie outside and get a smallish cut on your leg, all four of them go crazy. They baby you to death and back

* rubs my little rat hands together *

cws: yandere fruity four, blood, minor/major injuries, scars, !!PTSD!!, angelface has aquaphobia, mental illness, trauma flashbacks, panic attacks, choking, drowning, near-death experiences, very mild emetophobia, mild self-deprecation, post-s4, gn!reader.

One of the first days that you wake up and feel that things are back to normal is in June of 1987. The sun is coming out properly now and brightens the yard with soft, summer rays, the grass is growing in enough to start being trimmed, and it's far too warm to stay in bed for longer than an hour past your usual alarm. Indiana isn't too hot yet, so when you crack open the windows to get a breath of fresh air, you're greeted by a comfortably cool breeze that cuts the warmth radiating off the ground.

Much better than the cold and the snow that kept you inside, although that wasn't the only reason. The world beyond the Harrington's front yard is still a little too scary to breach--but you've got a good amount of space to work with, so long as you stay away from the pool and the woods around the back. It's been drained for a while now though, and Steve reassured you he has no plans to fill it back up.

That first day is a good day, it's refreshing. The next week skirts by with a stream of good things piling in; you all built up the firepit to roast marshmallows, Eddie bought a sprinkler at a garage sale, Nancy and Robin have started buying seasonal fruits and cutting them up to make little salads. There's not much you have to worry about with your new life, but there are obstacles--and you're happy to say you've overcome one when you're especially full of confidence one afternoon, and peek into the garage to ask if Eddie can bring the sprinkler out. Obviously he says yes, a smile on his face as he tugs his gloves off and rolls out from beneath the van, excitedly grabbing the hose and hooking it in so he can take it out and set it up on the front lawn.

You were planning just to run it and watch, maybe stick your hands or toes in to cool off, but Robin comes running down the stairs with a giddy grin and jumps right through it--and at her shriek of it being so cold, you and Eddie both join in to try it and end up running around on the wet grass, laughing and flicking water at each other like children. It's not terrifying like you thought it would be, and you don't immediately break down like you did the first few months of taking showers after the watergate incident. It's the first time in a long time you've been so carefree. It's been even longer since you've thought of a moment as a memory you want to keep forever, of Eddie grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek under the cool spray, and of you and Robin holding hands and shrieking as he picks the sprinkler up and chases you with it. That feeling ends, though, when you slip on the grass and tumble to the ground with her in tow, a sharp twang of pain running up the side of your calf from nowhere.

"You guys okay?" Eddie calls out, dropping the sprinkler and walking over to where you're laid out on your back, Robin scrambling to sit up at your side like she hadn't also fallen victim to the slippery ground.

"Yeah, I'm good--just fell!" You manage a lighthearted giggle, because that pain you felt is already dull, and you're sure it was just a twig or something that scratched you.

"You're bleeding," But Robin's voice tremors, her dulled and painted nails hovering over your calf as you bend your knee to pull it up. Disbelief runs through you at first--but with a glance and a double take, you realize she's right. You've got a long, thin cut up the side of your leg, and although it's clearly too shallow to do much damage, it's deep enough for blood to pool at the surface of your skin and start trailing downwards in little rivulets. She's stiff right now, and her eyes say too much--they spell out danger, and your first instinct is to cup her cheek in your hand and try to talk her down.

"It's okay, Robbie--calm down, okay? Just breathe."

"You're bleeding...." It pains you even worse because you know exactly what she's thinking, you know the place she's at right now, and it's not gonna be pretty if she doesn't come back to earth and starts reliving all those horrible days you left behind.

"Robin, it's fine, sweetheart. It doesn't even hurt. It's not deep, you don't need to worry, I'm totally fine." She shakes her head--she can't tear her eyes away from the sight of your blood. "Remember what the doctor said? Worst thing you can do is panic? So don't panic, my love."

By the time she's struggling to keep her breaths even, Eddie's knelt down at your side to assess what he just heard. A warm, wet hand grazes your calf to take a look, and you can tell by the shuddered breath he inhales that he's trying really hard not to join Robin in freaking out.

"Let's...let's get you inside. Robin, go-"

"I-I'll get Nancy!" Her assumption is thankfully correct, and she tears off across the lawn to run up into the house, probably taking the stairs two at a time just to get to your girlfriend and boyfriend faster. Eddie sighs, and pulls your arm around his shoulders to help you up, barely letting you put any pressure on your injury as he leads you into the house. Past the front door, towards the kitchen, and helps you up to sit on the nearest chair that he pulls out for you.

"Eddie, I'm fine. Really," You gesture towards the cut--which really is more like a scrape--but you know better than to move your leg or try to get up. Sometimes, as much as you love them, your partners just won't see reason.

"I know. I know you're fine, but...but if you're not-"

"This isn't the same thing. This isn't Vecna." He shudders at the mere mention of the name, but it's the truth and you're not going to just let them flip out. To keep him from pacing, and because you hope it might help, you grab hold of his hand. Upstairs, you can hear animated chattering and then the scraping of chairs, like whoever it was that got up did so in an enormous hurry. "No clocks, no ticking, no visions. Just a cut."

Eddie nods in agreement, but you're not so easily persuaded. "Just a cut." He repeats, his other hand coming up to rub your head and carefully, sweetly stroke your hair.

"Baby!" The two of you both jump when Steve comes skidding into the room, having leapt nearly over the entire banister just to land with a thud and dash in. Nancy and Robin aren't far behind, equally as hurried as they come to crowd around you with panic-stricken looks on their faces. Steve drops to his knees at once to take a look at the cut, while Nancy peers over his head and thankfully breathes a deep sigh of relief when she sees how calm you are.

"Why are you soaked?" Are the first words that come out of her mouth, and only then does it click. Your chest tightens a little, and you feel a cloud hanging over your head, but it makes sense. It wasn't just the cut, or the blood--it's the fact that you're also drenched, your clothes clinging to your skin and your body wracked with a chill that pierces you through the bone.

That night on Lover's Lake was much the same. You'd never been much afraid of boating or swimming, but those circumstances were different--that was when you thought your alternating crushes on your friends were the most painful thing to deal with, back when you kept switching from one to another. From Eddie to Nancy to Steve to Robin and back again, wondering what the hell was wrong with you and why you were so whipped you'd join them on a dinghy in the middle of the night, just to check something out that they swore was something they could never fully explain. You just had to see it, and you'd been so determined to help them that you wouldn't be left behind.

But you did a lot more than seeing when you leaned over the side to look down at whatever 'gate' Steve had found as he clung to the edge of the boat, drenched and handsome as ever. Even though you struggled to piece your memories back together after the ordeal was over, you remember squinting your eyes at a shadow flitting under the water and praying it was just a fish. Nancy's voice had cut through the chatter to ask you what was wrong--and then your arm went under as a tendril burst out to hook around it, and Eddie's hand shot out to grab your hoodie, but you were gone before you could even scream. The boat had rocked from side to side and you heard muffled yelling, screaming of your name that you couldn't call back to. Steve's fingers had grazed your ankle in a flash to catch you as you were yanked through the murk, but even he could do nothing as you were thrust through watergate and thrown into another world, one you never would have believed in if you hadn't been forced to.

After that, you still have only bits and pieces you can recall of the ordeal. Flashes of blood and veiny wings spread out against a crimson sky are the worst, they're the visions you try to forget, especially since you associate them with some of the most biting, stinging agony you've ever felt in your life--at your hips, your legs, and your neck, all of which still bear prominent scars. Choking, you remember choking for so long, until you blinked and Steve was above you--his palms thrusting painfully into your chest, and your throat flooding with water and bile that you spat all over the ground. You remember stumbling through some overgrown forest, the flash of a bike light, cloth being pulled tight around your stomach, and being slumped over someone's back as you rode down semi-familiar streets, but that's the most you can bring to your memory. They've always told you it would be better not to try--that you don't want to remember all the horrors they encountered there. That you don't want to wake up. Wake up.

"Wake up!"

You manage to mumble out a single, incoherent word, before a chord splits through the muffled quiet of your mind and you clap your hands over your ears, bass thrumming so loud you feel like your brain's bouncing around inside your skull. It's not totally inaccurate though, because there's an ache in your neck and fingers painfully dug into your shoulders as whoever it is stops shaking you, yells for the music to be shut off, and then worriedly encourages you to open your eyes.

"Huh?" Still completely dazed, you hone in on two warm, sweet-looking brown eyes when your own blink open, before zoning back out and letting yours wander towards every angle of the room. Your head is almost lolling back, trying to get a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary--anything that would reveal that you're still in that other world, and only when you're reassured that everything's real do you look down at Steve's terrified expression. "What's...wrong? Steve?"

Even your voice feels discombobulated, you raise your hand to your neck to touch it, as if you could feel if something was wrong just by feeling it. But it drifts to his throat instead, and you run your thumb over the long scar that's still there--the one that matches yours. Steve doesn't utter a word, just stares up at you from his knees before finally managing to breathe again.

Robin and Nancy are standing over him, and you can see they're just as scared--but Eddie's gone, and before you can ask where he is, his sneakers squeal against the linoleum as he rushes back into the kitchen. In his hands, he's got a tape. The bright sticker on the side of it warns you that it's the one he carries with him everywhere, with nothing but your name written on the tracklist along with Steve's, Robin's, Nancy's, and his own.

"F..False alarm. False alarm." Nancy finally turns back and nods at him, just barely making it to one of the chairs at the table before she collapses into it in a fit of hiccups, like she's trying not to cry and just holding it all in. Robin hits the ground behind Steve and she buries her face in his back, hands clutching at his shirt while his trail down to grab each of yours. It's only in those moments that your senses really come back to you, and you feel an immense wave of guilt settle on your shoulders at what must have looked like a dire situation. You've had those flashbacks before where you've dissociated completely out of the realm of reality--but this must have been a long one, you can feel it, because your body's sore from being jostled so much and your leg is all wrapped up. You've got a towel draped around your neck. You've missed a decent chunk of time, but you're sure it felt like a lifetime for them.

"I'm sorry..." You whimper, hating their body language and their expressions and wishing you could just go back to when you were having fun--and wishing that you would just stop having these episodes already, for God's sakes.

"Don't!" Steve shakes his head, strands of perfect chestnut hair flicking to and fro as he does so. He tightens his grip and pulls your arms closer, a kiss placed on your knuckles in the hope of offering some reassurance. "Don't be sorry--you didn't do anything wrong. This was out of your control."

If Robin wasn't clinging to him, you can sense by his shoulders hunching towards you that he would be moving in for a hug--one of those warm, tight ones that crush you against his hard chest, but couldn't be a better place for you to cry into. You don't really feel the urge to, but surely once some time has passed the reality of what just happened will really hit you. The relative silence in the room is biting into you, and the shakiness of your own voice betrays that. "Are you okay?"

He nods at once, one hand finally moving away to pat Robin's thigh. "Yeah. Little shaky, but I'm okay. You okay, Rob?"

"I'm fine. Just...almost passed out." Robin's voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, but by the comparably calmer sigh that escapes her, you believe it. You turn your head to Nancy, sitting just across the table from you, and reach your newly-freed hand out to clasp over hers. The tight squeeze is enough to say more than she can get out at the moment.

"I'll be fine, soon. I need a minute." She rubs her temples, focusing on breathing in and out and nothing else. Eddie's who you're really afraid for, though, and he's just staring in cold silence from across the room. He only takes one step when you look his way and shoves the tape in his pocket, but after a pause, he takes plenty more to come right up to your side.

"God, I'm glad you're alive," He grabs both sides of your face, and tilts your head up to plant the sweetest, deepest kiss on your lips. He tastes of smoke and sweat, bitterly warm on your tongue as he shows you his affection--something you thought you'd never get when you were sure you had died. "Never letting you go again."

It sits there in the air. Never letting you go. You've heard it in movies and read it in books, although you thought that if you ever heard someone say that to you, it would be.....well, it wouldn't be like this. But it quirks a smile up on your lips at the thought that this is what you've got, this is the reward you've been given for following your heart straight into death. At least you can say you're nothing if not loyal, even though you sometimes feel like you're just....crazy. Like you belong in the nuthouse. They've tried to reassure you you're not, but there's always that inkling in the back of your head. The looks people in the town give you when you go out don't help, either--especially the ones that boldly declared you as one of Eddie's failed victims. That one was especially hard to overcome.

"I...okay. I'm gonna go bring the sprinkler in." Eddie's hands linger on your face, and he seems to evaluate something for a moment before giving in, and pressing another delightfully wet kiss to your mouth. Only after that can he break away, and get himself walking towards the front door--mumbling quietly all the while that he's gonna find whatever hurt his baby and make it pay. To think, this is the man people thought had tried to sacrifice you....how ludicrous.

"Yeah, um...S-Steve, c'mon." Nancy, finally managing to pull herself together, gestures towards him in a way they both seem to understand--and you let out a squeak when he gets to his feet, and slides his arms around your waist to haul you up in a bridal carry, while Robin uses him to pull herself up and messily dry the tears she was hiding.

"H-Hey, it's okay! I can walk-"

"Nope." Steve interjects, waiting for Nancy to take Robin gingerly by the arm and lead her towards the stairs, whispering low enough into her ear that you can't make out what she's saying. Your girlfriend seems to start perking up when she hears it though, so whatever reassurances she's offering, they must be pretty good. "While Sir Eddie is securing the yard, you're gonna be spending some time with us." He raises his brows, that smoldering wink shooting sparks of youthful giddiness into your belly. It's hard not to smile and give in when he's being coy--the flirt in him just always manages to capture your heart, even when he's carrying you up the stairs despite you being certain you can do these things on your own. "Nance still has to finish her article, so we'll just hang out with her til it's done, kay?"

As he reaches the top step, you hear the distinct clanging of something being thrown around in the area of the garage, Eddie's distant swearing filtering through the open windows all over the house before he slams the door shut. Knowing him, he probably got all caught up in the hose and tripped himself, the visual of which evoking a laugh from you that nearly startles Steve as he walks with you into the master bedroom. Nancy's got her desk in there with all of her papers, photos, and notebooks scattered all over the top, a lamp on a bendable frame aimed from above so she can arrange things as precisely as she likes. She's already eased Robin into the bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead that she leans right into--and when Steve comes around the other side and slowly sets you down beside her, she's quick to pull an arm around you and nuzzle herself right into your side to get nice and comfortable.

"It's not gonna take too long, okay?" Nancy glances over her shoulder to look at you after she takes her seat, the second chair by her side soon giving a squeak as Steve drops himself into it. "I just have to organize the spread so I can send it in. Then we'll do something fun, okay?"

Her content smile feels more hollow than usual--you can kinda tell when she's masking her feelings to make everyone else comfortable, versus when she's really showing her emotions. But that's to be expected after what she just went through, so you're not about to pry. Usually it's a lot harder for them to vent to you than it is to each other, because they've admitted themselves they're sensitive to putting too much stress on you, and the doctor himself had warned you to avoid straining yourself lest your heart give out on you. That's a big worry for them too....worrying about you.

Soon enough, though, Eddie comes hustling up the stairs and bursts into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding a frustrated jab when he almost sweeps a pile of scribbled notes off the table--but he looks happy, sweaty and happy, and kicks off his sneakers to climb into bed next to you with a bowl full of cut fruit in his hands. He sets it delicately in your lap, having haphazardly tossed handfuls of the little cubes into it out of the tupperware containers Nancy was keeping them in, and pops a chunk of pineapple in his mouth with an uncanny grin.

"Showed that branch who's boss," He declares proudly through a half-chewed mouthful of fruit, before nuzzling your cheek with his nose and stuffing some more into his gob. It's a convenient way to distract you from Robin's fidgeting, as well as Nancy and Steve's hushed conversation that he glosses over by blabbing on about his newest potential escapades that he's got ideas for regarding the next Hellfire campaign. The best thing to do for you after an episode is give you something positive to focus on, they've found, and Eddie's pretty good at finding things to talk about that just hook you right in and keep you attentive to him, and little else.

You're not delicate, after all, you're strong. But the world has proven to be quite unkind to you, and clearly you've had too much exposure to those things that remind you of that awful, awful day. So does it not make sense to keep you safe, and take all those potential dangers away? It's not like you'll be lonely, after all. You'll have them! And that's all you need--just them.

[bunny-rambles]

Hello!

Since requests are open at the moment, I'd like to request something with Rubedo and a reader who isn't as openly nice at least in their tone of voice? Like they have a bad case of resting bitch face, they're generally a little grumpy no matter what and their harsh tone can make them sound like they're angry even when they're not which makes it difficult for Ruby to read them properly. As such this leaves him constantly tense and stressed out because he constantly assumes he's on thin ice (poor boy's getting serious PTSD flashbacks to Gold) and it isn't until he has a full blown panic attack or breakdown that they realize the issue and start making an effort to change so he feels safer? They also helped him through the panic attack.

Reading your Rubedo fic has ignited smth in me and I am loving it!

🐈‍⬛-anon, naming myself because I love your writing and will definitely come back for more so might as well.

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“Smile for me.”

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characters; Rubedo, gn reader

cw/tw; minor mentions of injuries, graphic mention of panic attacks, Rubedo is kinda traumatised by Gold, moody reader, crying

word count; 2K

notes; for 🐈‍⬛ anon, I was so inspired when I got this request bc that sounds exactly like me, I’m so bad expressing emotion and I seem moody or angry but I’m not at all - sorry if this isn’t what you expected !! Let me know if you like it <33

Please reblog if you like this!!

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You were… Difficult to understand.

Even when receiving gifts, you would always bluntly mumble a ‘thanks’ before putting the present away, no matter who the person was. It was only when he caught you staring warmly at said gift when you thought no one was looking that he realised that maybe you weren’t so cold hearted as he once thought. In fact, he knew deep down he was right. Why else would you have taken him in when he had nowhere else to go?

You showed your affection through doing things when they weren’t asked of you, or making him food if he seemed troubled. You weren’t the kind to have a big smile on their face and wrap their arms around him, telling him how much you appreciate him. He knew most of the time, it was nothing personal. He hadn’t exactly figured out why you act this way. Emotional walls, or just a difficulty to express emotion all together? He wasn’t sure, and perhaps he never would be.

You felt distant even when you were right next to him, with that same cold stare of indifference and that frigid attitude. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed you wielded an icy vision. Even when the two of you were alone, you always seemed so… He didn’t even know how to describe it. Stony faced, hands crossed over your chest like you were impatient for him to just stop talking whenever he conversed with you. But when he stopped, you urged with that monotone voice of yours to keep going, to continue his ramblings about whatever interested him so much. Even with such a piercing gaze, there was a hidden softness, a quiet sweetness to you.

Once he had tried to bring it up to you, only for you to shut down when did so. Ah, so you were definitely aware of it, and when your arms tensed around yourself, he knew that perhaps it was a sore spot. He had hurriedly apologised, telling you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you, something you would tell him when he you thought he was asleep - when in the serenity of the night, you would pour your heart out to him - still with that unchanging voice of yours, but the words you spoke were more than enough for him. He didn’t want you to change, he liked you for you - but sometimes, there were days he just couldn’t handle it, and that went unsaid.

There were days that he would look at you and he wouldn’t see you anymore. Instead, he would see a flash of blonde, a permanent scowl, the same impatient body language. And those were the days he would avoid you like the plague. Even when you called for him that dinner was ready, he didn’t show his face. Those days would hurt you both, and the cracks in his hopeful mindset would only worsen. Those days were few and far between, and those were the only days you would show some form of emotion on your face. Your brows furrowed and your lips downturned even more than the usual frown you had. It was far from the smile he dreamt of on your face, but he cherished it just as much. Of course you weren’t /her/, you were you - a statue of ice with a heart of gold. He saw it every day in the small things you would do for him. You brushed his hair if he seemed tired, listened for hours about whatever was on his mind, helped him with anything that he needed. You would do anything for him, he need only ask. (He heard that once while your hand threaded through his golden locks when you thought he had been long gone in slumber). When he remembered that, he would be fine, and you two would go back to how you always were.

Today was different.

It was no secret that the commissions you took on were starting to get more and more difficult. You were a skilled fighter, that was for sure, but some of the things you were taking on weren’t one person jobs. Although not much had changed from most people's perspective, you were tired. When you came home, you usually had the decency to try to make small talk with the blonde living with you, but now it seemed you didn’t have the energy to even manage that.

And when you did talk?

Neither of you had ever argued, but because of how irritable you had become, you didn’t try to soften the hardness of your tone, the cold words pouring out of your mouth. Thankfully, it was never directed at him, instead he only heard it being directed to whoever commissioned you - but something about the way you spoke set him on edge. He knew if he looked at you, he wouldn’t be in this comfortable home you had made for each other, but instead a merciless terrain of snow.

He stayed away from you to avoid that.

But when you shoved the door open, stalking in with frustration practically dripping off of you, he couldn’t just leave you alone in that state - even if he knew how it would end. Your footing was a little off now that he really looked, your clothes all torn and dirty. It didn’t take a genius to realise the commission had not gone well.

He winced with each thudding footstep you took, the book in his hands falling out of his unsteady grasp. No. You did not need him to fall apart just because you reminded him of her. Instead, he tried his best to calm himself before making his way over to where you were in the kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” He asked quietly when he saw you rummaging around in the cabinet, no doubt looking for the first aid kit.

“No.”

“You should sit down-“

“I don’t need any help. Go away.” There was that wall again. No matter how many times he tried, you just wouldn’t take it down for him.

“Y/N-“

“Just leave me alone.” You bit out, one of your fists clenching around the bandage you had managed to find. He swallowed quietly, retracting his hovering hands he was about to place on your shoulders to get you to move.

“Okay.” He whispered, before turning and leaving to go to his room. He shut the door quietly, back pressed up against it before he slid down it with his head in his hands. Jumbled memories of ice cold stares, of cutting words and vague threats of abandonment filled his mind. But instead of his great and all powerful master… It was you. Glowering at him from a high height, sneering at him as he cowered underneath you.

“Why did I ever take you in? I should’ve left you where I found you.“

No. Please. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out, almost like someone had clamped down their hand on his throat and was squeezing him for everything that he was worth.

“I no longer have any use for you. You should go back to that mountain and stop bothering me. I don’t need you.”

I can do better! Please! Don’t leave me!

But still no words left his mouth, even when he saw your back begin to walk away in the darkness.

“Y/N!” He finally managed to choke out, raising a trembling hand to your fading figure.

Suddenly the door he was leaning on burst open, falling into something unsteady than the solid surface of the wood. And then his back was being pulled into something soft, warmth encasing him like a spring breeze on a summer's day. There was something gentle pressing against his heaving chest, telling him to breathe. Shakily, he inhaled.

“One more.” He swore he could hear that voice tremble. It sounded so familiar… Again, he did so. His vision began to clear.

Two arms were wrapped tightly around him, his back against someone’s chest - he could feel the rapid heartbeat against him. Your face was buried in his shoulder, your legs on either side of his cowering body, caging him into the comfort of your embrace. He called out your name, and your face sprung up from where it was hidden. Were those… Tear tracks?

“You were crying… And calling for me…” You explained quietly, but your voice sounded tougher than it usually did. Was this real?

He carefully lifted one of his hands up to one of your arms and squeezed gently, mesmerised when your grip on him only tightened. He didn’t have a response to what you said, still trying to process what exactly just happened. He thought you just left, and now you were holding him?

“Sorry…” He apologised after a moment, and your arms fell limply to your sides, letting him go so he could stand up while you did too.

“Come to the kitchen. I made your favourite...” You turned around to leave, and blindly, he followed.

True to your word, there were not just one of his favourites, but almost all of them. How long had he been in there exactly, for you to make all of this - just for him? It was your way of apologising for what happened.

You knew he was just trying to help you, but you were embarrassed and angry at the state you had come home in. Nothing had gone right that day, and even one of your commissioners had screamed in your face when you failed their task. You just wanted to be alone in your misery, not drag him into it. Instead, you felt like you did the opposite.

“Why…” You began, and his head slowly turned to you. You were barely holding it together. “Why were you crying?” Your bottom lip trembled, your hands trembling at your sides. Slowly, he took one in his own, running his thumb across your bruised knuckles. Instead of giving you an answer, he interlaced your fingers together.

“Don’t leave me.”

You let out a shaky gasp before the tears you held back for him began to roll down your cheeks, dripping from your jaw. Without hesitation, you pulled him to your chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He could hear you mumble apologies while one of your hands ran through his soft, golden locks. He shushed you quietly, as his own arms wrapped around you comfortingly. This was the first time he had ever seen you cry, seen so much emotion from you. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but his lips curled up into a small smile.

“I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

After you both had calmed down and indulged yourselves in the meals you had painstakingly made so they were perfect for him, he finally told you what was wrong. It hurt to hear the honesty, but it was needed if either of you two didn’t want a repeat of what happened. He left out the part where the panic attacks weren’t uncommon if you were in a particularly bad mood, just to save you some heartache that you were already feeling after everything that had been said.

“I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll try and be better.”

“Just don’t change who you are. I like you, because you’re you. But I can’t lie to you, I would love to see you smile. Just once.” He admitted, staring down at your interlocked hands. Neither one of you had made a move to pull away from it, so they had been like that for some time. He heard a heavy sigh from you, your head hanging low for a moment before it raised. His breath hitched at the sight.

You, cheeks reddened from the previous crying, eyes swollen from rubbing at them - with a small, shy smile on your lips. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life.

“Okay. I’ll smile more for you.”