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icarusredwings · 3 months ago

Note

Would you ever write a fic about little wade and how he encounters/copes with his chronic pain? How does Logan help?

Inspired by @bougiebutchbinch thank you anonymous asker for giving me an excuse to traumatize people :)

Bad kitty. 1/2

Tw/cw: Dead dove. Graphic descriptions of cancer pockets, drugging, attempted murder, forcible non consentual (non sexual, medical) touching, angst, hurt/ little comfort, cargiver drop, NOT SAFE for littles!!!

Summary: How is he supposed to apply topical medication to someone who doesn't want touched? Wade doesn't want help, but he NEEDS it. Logan knows he's a bad caregiver for this. He feels disgusting... maybe he is a bad kitty, but Wade needs his medication.

Coming home from walking Puppins, Logan had picked up some sandwiches for them. Kicking the door closed behind him, he shouted. "Wade! I got you that weird sub thing you like. They were out of banana peppers though so-"

He heard sniffling and a soft "Nooo" after watching Puppins go over to her bed inbetween the couch and the wall.

"Uhm... So.. there's that.." He kept talking as he took a few steps forward, confused as to what had made that noise. It sounded almost like a whimper. As if a scared ki- "Aww damn it.."

There he was, curled up tight between the couch and the wall, sitting on the dog's pillow with nothing but a blanket over his lap.

Sniffling, He currently was trying to push Puppins away from him as the pup licked his arm, wagging her bottom excitedly.

"Nnoooo! No p-Puppy- Ouch!" He whined, quickly pulling his hand to his chest, more tears flowing down his face.

Instinctivly, Logan dropped the bag on the table, gasping as he grabbed Puppins away from him. "Did she bite you!?" He asks, giving the dog a concerned look. She *was* a deadpool after all, so sometimes she did like to bite, but the way she looked just as confused as he did made him doubt that she had nipped him.

Shaking his head, He whimpered again, holding his arm as he tried to make himself as small as possible. It was very clear he was trying to be invisible.

"Okay... Hey. What's wrong?" He asks, putting her down as he tries to shoo her away from him.

Shaking his head, he held his eyes closed tight, more tears falling as if he was trying to keep in the noise, a tight lump in his throat, choking on it each time he tried to speak.

"Wade? What's wrong, bub?"

From what he could see, welts and blisters had formed in various spaces on his body, some holes, others popping upwards as tight, painful, and full looking pockets of various colors. The realization had snapped his heart.

Logan had told him he should take it easy for a while instead of willingly letting bad guys cut off his limbs, and he has to assume that this is the result of the extra cancerous cells building up.

If he wasn't already used to such smells and sights, he would probably think Wade was some sort of diseased zombie, his jaw even starting to form a crater of dead skin eating itself, or perhaps had fallen off? He wasn't sure. All he knew, It was bad.

"H-...hurt.."

The smallest voice chirped out, so high pitched and strained. So.. Pained.

"I know.. where?" Logan whispers, not wanting to scare him any, but part of him was freaked out enough at just how quick the welts were developing. These weren't here when he left, were they? No. He would have seen it. He was only gone 2 hours, max.

Then again, Wade was excellent at hiding. Perhaps he had just had enough and finally snapped, all the pain drowning out his senses to the point of needing to physically hide rather than mentally.

"Hurts." He whined again, flinching away from the dogs tongue as she tried to lick him again. She was just trying to help, though.

"No, Pup." Logan muttered, moving her once again. In all fairness, though, Wade *was* in *her* bed.

"Where does it hurt?" He asks again. Sometimes, it was like this. You had to repeat yourself multiple times until he finally understood and awnsered properly.

"Hurts!" Wade tells him again, whining as if frustrated, but the pitch in his throat said just how much it truly did hurt. And that- apparently, was a lot.

"Okay, okay- erm.. But.. where? Here?" He points to his arm as he moves away, clearly not wanting touched at the moment, but nodded.

"Hurts."

"M'kay.. here?" To his other arm.

"Hurts.."

"Alright.. there?" His leg.

Wade nods, gaining tears in his eyes the more worried Logan looks. "Hurts..."

"Uhm.. what about there?" He pointed to his head.

"Hurts....." he whispers.

"Aw man... that's a lot of hurt, bub.. uhm.. Here let me-" only being able to touch his forhead for a split second, He jolted away. "Owch!" He told him, as if telling him that it hurt.

"Fuck, kid, you're burning up."

Whining, he began to sob, his hand having accidently popped one of the bigger ones. It burned to be exposed to the air like this, burned to be touched, hurt to just exist. "..ouch..!"

The thick, hot tears that came from him had burst something because the side of his eye became bloody and slightly yellow filling the side. “Ah Shit- Wade shh… shhh, it's alright.”

Trying to rub his eyes, he cried more, whimpering loudly as he began to panic. "H-hurts!!"

"No no no! Don't-"

About to pull his hands away from him, he had touched another on his wrist, making him let out a high-pitched screech, pulling away.

"N-no!! O-ouch!! Hurts!" He scolded him, keeping himself away from Logan, not understanding why he was hurting him.

"I know.. Go ahead.. tell me." He says, Nodding softly as he stared, allowing himself to get cursed out by the hurt and scared child. Something he's worked so hard on with Wade. For him to raise his voice and tell off people who scare him even when small.

"It's ouch!! No hurt!! .... B-bad kitty!" It was obvious he was hesitant with that last word and for good reason, Logan's heart sinking as he frowned. He didn't think being called that would hurt so badly, but.. it did for some reason. One he didn't understand.

"No- Wade stop. Calm down you're going to hur-" pointing vaguely at his eye, Wade bit him, snapping at him the way Puppins did when you tried to apply cream to her underarm rashes.

"M-mean kitty! Bad!! No hurt!" He continued, getting out his frustrations only to break down again, crying as some stuff began to leak out of the corner of his eye as he pointed at Logan, giving him a proper telling off.

"Hey! Ouch! You aren't supposed to-"

"Hurts!!" He yelled at him. A final decree of anger. It was understandable why he was so hostile. He hadn't been able to process why his skin hurt so bad and all he knew is that it hurt more when someone touched him or in puppins sake, licked him.

"Okay, okay!! God! Sit there then! By yourself!" Logan growled, getting up as he walked off to the kitchen, letting out a big sigh. The bite hadn't been enough to draw blood, but he had a feeling that Wade would stab him or bite his finger off soon enough if he didn't leave him be.

Unwrapping the subs, he thought about what he could do to help him. What he usually did to help. As he went down the list, He crossed out all of the adult themed options and any that had anything to do with touching him. It only left pills and sleep.

If he could get him to go to understand, Logan could take care of his wounds and dress them. It wouldn't help long, but perhaps it would be enough for him to stop crying from the pain. He knew it hurt. He knew it would hurt more bathing him, putting ice on them, rubbing gel on them, and dressing his entire body to the point he would look like a mummy.

Or... he could... glancing down at knife in his hand, his eyes flickered back up to him. If his entire body was hurting this badly.. he could press the restart button.. logically, it was the fastest and easiest way to end his pain. He could make it quick to. Wade's done it before... took a quick visit to death.. cut off his own limbs so they could grow back fresh like damaged hair getting shaved.

He would just need a claw to the front lobe. That should do the tri-

He shook his head, Tossing the knife away as he buried his face into his hands. For fucks sake! He couldn't do that! Why would he even think of that!? Wade couldn't consent. He couldn't- he wouldn't be able to-

Groaning, he bit his tongue with his canines, trying to ground himself as he took a deep breath.

Okay, think. Think Howlett. You can do this. Think. He's not suseptible to poisons, but if he could get him asleep just for a few minutes.. maybe he could give him a big dose? Oh god, like this was any better. Who in their right mind thinks about drugging a kid in pain!? What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just-

"H-hurts.."

Jumping a bit, he must not have picked up on the fact that Wade crawled out of his hiding spot, whimpering with such scared, pained eyes. "Kitty... ouch-es..."

Wade made another whining noise and then a scream.

Letting out another sigh, he gave him a sympathetic look. "I know, Bud.. Im trying to think.. i.. I don't want to hurt you. I really don't." Picking up the knife again, he focused on cutting up his sub so at least he could try to eat. Distract him for just a few moments.

Maybe he could think of something else. He could convince Wade to hold still. To let him hurt him just a little bit in order to help. Maybe there was a kids show that portrayed help as hurting sometimes in a medical sense? Then he could understand better. Right? Wade learned much easier by animated demonstrations, like that episode of the blue dog when its orange mommy dog went away and the daddy blue dog had to put them to bed, but the kid blue dog was sad. That helped him a lot when Vanessa had to lea-

Quickly looking up, He saw Puppins once again trying to lick his sores, sniffing and whining with her tail wagging. She was trying her best to show Wade that she was trying to help, to be friendly but was shoved away. Quite hard too, making her yelp.

Gasping, Logan came to pick up the dog. "Wade!! Careful! She's little remember!?"

Though the second he raised his voice, Wade broke down yet again, holding where she licked him as it was now seeping a mixture of blood and pus down his leg.

His look softened, turning to quickly make sure her leg was okay. "No more.. leave your papa alone. He's hurting.." He tells the puppy who whined, giving him the biggest 'im sorry' eyes you could imagine from such a tiny dog.

Putting her in the bedroom, he shut the door as he got the massive box of first aid from the closet. It's more of a toolbox, really, complete with a handle.

Coming over, Logan knelt down to look over him, opening the box as he got some wipes, cream and gauze wrap.

He hated being in this situation. But this was the trials of love. And if it meant helping him be pain-free, Logan wouldn't change a thing.

The moment he saw this though, Wade screeched again, kicking the stuff away as he crawled back to the blanket. 'Hiding' under neath of it, Logan frowned. Yeah no.. He definitely wasn't going to let him help..

There was only one thing to do.

Standing, He swallowed as he took a few slow steps towards him, throwing open his claws as he stared down at the shaking, shivering hello kitty blanket. The one that was half soaked with tears, the other about to be with blood.

"Wade? I know you don't know what's about to happen... You don't have to forgive me, but this...t-This is for your own good... You'll feel better... I promise."

Shoving down the twist of his stomach and the yelling in his head telling him to stop, the ones screaming from the roof tops that this was wrong. This wasn't who he was anymore. He's spent months scrubbing his hands clean of children's blood. And here he was, seconds from staining them again.. history repeats itself.. even he knew he couldn't change that. No matter how hard he tried. This is who he was. A killer.

"Im sorry.."

A bad kitty.

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dreamsteddie · 2 months ago

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There is something so beautiful and melancholy about the idea of failed rockstar Eddie who was on the verge of being a major hit but ended up giving up his dreams because he didn't like who he was turning into.

Eddie who leaves Hawkins behind as quickly as he can and dedicates his entire life, every waking moment, to building up his music career. He sleeps on couches for years, staying with whoever will take him in for a night or two in exchange for a bump of coke or joint from the remains of his sizeable Reefer Kick stash. He carries everything he owns in the back of his trunk. Amp, wires, guitars, clothes, etc and basically converts it into a portable practice studio.

He plays every gig he can get his hands on. Playing as a last-minute substitute guitar or base for any band that calls, playing for pop bands and punk bands alike until he convinces enough people to join up with him and start a new metal band.

With the band comes more stability, for a while. They share a cramped two-bedroom among the five of them. Writing and jamming every day, going home to smoke up and decompress.

Just over four years after Eddie lands in the city, they play their first real show. A show at a respectable, if small, bar venue with people in the audience there to see them. People sing their songs and dance to their music. It's not sold out, not even close really, but it's the start of something big, they can all feel it. That night they go out to the club around the block with a couple of people who came to the show and party harder than Eddie ever has before. He wakes up with that distinctly fuzzy feeling the next morning that tells him he dipped into the harder drugs the night before, something he hasn't done since he learned his dad passed three years ago.

It scares him. He can't remember anything past walking into the club last night. He doesn't remember anything he did or said and desperately hopes he didn't do anything weird with a fan, but he brushes it off. Tells himself it was a one-time thing, a celebration of their success. They deserved to let loose, right?

Except it wasn't a one-time thing. In fact, it turns into an almost every night kind of thing, and as their fan base grows what feels like overnight, the parties grow in intensity with them. They play their hearts out on stage, eventually selling out all of the smaller local venues and moving on to the larger, more serious ones. The occasional disagreement over music between the band members turns into larger, more personal arguments. Eventually, they reach Fleetwood Mac Rumors Era levels of drama. Everyone is sleeping around, the drugs are out of control, and they can't hardly stand to be in the same room together anymore, only pulling it together enough to go on stage at the end of the day.

Eddie lives that handful of years in a daze. It can mostly be attributed to the copious amounts of alcohol he's turned to to cope with the stress, but he uses his fair share of snow to keep himself in the creative spirit too. It feels inevitable when he reaches a kind of low he doesn't know if he can come back from.

Eddie wasn't a saint, but he has always sworn off meth. It was the thing that killed his mom. He remembers the way she'd wasted away, the days when she seemed crazed, and how sorry she was to him when she stabilized. The regret in her eyes when she looked at him. But when he's asked if he wants a needle all he can think about is the prospect of spending the rest of his life stuck with this band full of people he can't stand and people who can't stand him if the record deal they've been negotiating goes through, and it feels like it will.

Thinks of what all his hard work will mean if it doesn't.

He says yes.

Wakes up the next day starfished in the alley of an apartment he doesn't recognize staring up at the little sliver of blue sky he can see between the fire escapes and weeps. He's become exactly the kind of person he never wanted to be, some asshole almost rich guy laying in a damp alleyway all alone with no real friends.

Eddie lies there for an hour just thinking. Trying to remember when the last time he called Wayne was. Thinking of all the girls he slept with when he probably shouldn't have, when they were both too fucked up to make the right choice. Thinks of his mom and dad.

Tries to remember the last time he made the world a better place to live in instead of contributing to the filth.

He gets up and leaves. Leaves it all behind. Gets in a taxi to take him to where his van is parked by the venue from last night. Frantically takes everything out of the back and leaves it on the street. The only things that remain are the few keepsakes he brought with him to the city and his acoustic, the one his mom left him and Wayne helped him paint. The amps, his sweetheart, and the performance wear all get dumped on the side of the road and then he's jumping into the front seat and stearing himself toward Hawkins.

Hours of driving leads him back home to Hawkins Indiana, the one place he promised never to return. Hawkins has seen a boom in the last few years, it seems. More shops, a bigger main street. He even spots a proper cafe. It all feels less haunted than he remembers. More people, fewer familiar faces. The trailer park, though, looks almost the same as it did the day he left, right down to the sight of his uncle lounging on the porch, waiting patiently for whatever comes next the way he always has.

Wayne doesn't ask any questions, not right away. He just scoops his nephew up in his arms and holds him in the cool morning air. He always knew his nephew better than anyone else, never needed words to know when he needed his uncle to help hold up the weight of the world.

And that's how Eddie finds his way back home. It takes a while for him to feel well enough to face the world again. A mixture of detoxing and coming to terms with the feeling of starting back at the beginning, like the last six years of his life didn't even happen leaves him licking his wounds in his partially empty childhood bed. It looks the same way it did when he walked out the front door.

When he does come back to the world, he starts small. Stepping out on the porch to share a cup of coffee with his uncle feels like one of the hardest things he's ever done. Maybe the most important.

He's proven right when he steps out to find he's not the only guest his uncle is entertaining this morning. Another resident of the park has already claimed the second chair as his own.

Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington who never made it out of Hawkins but also never regretted it. Who's made a small, happy life for himself here in the trailer park after his parents kicked him out for good when he turned 20. Who works part-time under the table at Miller's Mechanic and collects disability checks for the lost leg and minor brain damage he got from a car accident at 21. Steve Harrington who keeps his uncle company and makes sure he has everything he needs, taking care of the other residents in the park to the best of his ability doing easy car maintenance, babysitting, or just offering company to the more lonely residents.

Steve is so different from the guy Eddie vaguely knew in high school that he might as well be a stranger. They all sit and talk together for the entire morning, laughing and sharing stories. Steve never asks about where he's been or why he's back and Eddie wishes he could tell Steve how much he appreciates it.

Before Steve heads back he asks if Eddie would like to come over after he gets back from his shift. Asks if he wants to drink a beer and watch a movie. Eddie is quick, maybe too quick judging by the sympathetic look Steve sends his way, to turn down the beer and scoop up the movie invitation like the precious thing it is. There's something about Steve that soothes his soul. An easy connection between them that Eddie hopes they both feel.

Steve kisses him that night, slow and easy like they've been doing it their whole lives. Like they didn't basically meet for the first time this morning. Like Eddie hasn't been in denial about his sexuality for his entire life. Eddie cries at the warmth it fills him with. Steve just cradles him by the cheeks and lets him. That night Eddie doesn't go back to Wayne's. He lets Steve drag him to bed and hold him close. Lets him tangle their legs together and breathe warm air into the crown of his head until morning.

Steve shows Eddie how to live a life without dreams. A life without ambition but full of love and comfort. A life without plans, but with the knowledge that every day someone who loves you will kiss you when you wake up and hold you through the night.

#Steddie #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harington #wayne munson #rockstar eddie munson #of a sort #disabled steve harrington #cw drugs #cw drug abuse #cw minor character death #mentioned #dreamer speaks #I am extremely ill and waiting for my door dash soup to arrive #so this may not make any sense #insert shrug emoji

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noboking · 3 months ago

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the feeling of dissociation

As someone who experiences dissociation, I wanted to illustrate how it felt to me. It often feels like everything I feel and experience is secondhand, like I’m living through this half-alive shell of a creature that isn’t me

I’ve been doing better lately, and mainly made this as a way to help me process things

Very weird feeling

To anyone else who experiences this, you’re not alone, you’re not a burden, and I’m happy you exist here with me

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eternalartblock · 2 months ago

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hey kyoko whats. whats going on girl. why did you change the subject after mentioning your sister that one time. is there something you want to share with us. hey. look at me in my eyes. fym she used to be a nurse. what happened. hey. kyoko.

i dont care if we have CRUMBS of her lore i will take it and roll with it

rambles under the cut. warning its kinda long because i kinda lost it

so demo 3 gave us kyoko lore. far from a lot but it did. and i love her so of course i am going to read way too much into it

my main point of interest is her sister. her dialogue on her is pretty vague, and she doesnt even drop a name. we do know that she is- *cough cough* WAS a nurse. she was, until something happened. which kyoko is unfortunately also vague about.

obviously its most likely that shes dead, but idk. i kinda have a feeling it was something else. perhaps something more sinister. its the way she says “she used to be a nurse” rather than just “she was a nurse” i think. i have a theory that shes gonna be one of the sword wielders but i have absolutely nothing to back it up but im gonna put it here anyway in the unlikely case that im actually right so i can brag about being correct /silly

unfortunately we dont know a lot about kyokos relationship with her sister either, but i think its pretty safe to assume they had a pretty close relationship. but because of this id say its pretty likely that if something bad happened to her it would have traumatized kyoko :(

im kinda scared that this is gonna age badly and it was just some mundane thing like her sister got fired for being shit at her job or something but like. i dont think kyoko would have pulled a subject change after talking about something like that. she does trust the player doesnt she? pretty sure she says something like “yeah im here for you bro, as long as you listen to my problems too!!!” it seems to me this is the one thing shes not willing to talk about… so yeah i think it really was that bad

but hey. thats just a theory…

A BLOCK TALES TH *gets shot*

anyways kyoko we love you please talk to us :(

#block tales #block tales kyoko #autism is crazy you give me like 5 lines of dialogue and ill manage to pull out a minicomic and an analysis about it #if this ends up getting debunked in canon then it could make for a pretty cool au i think..#tw minor blood #cw minor blood #I CANR STOP FUCKING POSTING AQBOUT HER 😭

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 4 months ago

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Remember um. Remember that kinky Comic Goldenheart fic I've been teasing for like a stupid long time that like goes into emotional kink dynamics and shit?

It's finished

#tags under the cut #also why is it so fucking LONG im mentally ill #anyways uh... this might be kinda niche but I hope y'all like it #let me know if you think i should make it multi-chaptered instead of 1 super crazy long chapter 😭#not safe for minors #nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #nimona graphic novel #ballister blackheart #ballister x ambrosius #nimona fanfic #blackloin #yywihh fics #cw kink #kink dynamics

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odd-underscore-soul · 3 months ago

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Okkk i’m in a lore-dumping mood so OC AMA !!

keep in mind some characters have old art/need redesigning :)

here are the ones you can ask abt:

Trixie (both versions)

He/Xe

due for a redesign so i’m not using his ref sheet

Cyrus

He/it

spg fanbot :)

Fence (DnD char)

Any/All

Post (Fence's brother) He/Him

Gromple (DnD char)

It/Its but fine with any

Wish

Any/All

Mercury

They/Them

Pressure oc :)

——Everyone from here down is in the same universe !!——

Aster

He/Him

Ariel

He/It

Any of Sol's angels

any of Rose's cupids

Caramel and Lotus He/him and He/they respectively :)

Any of the gods in my pantheon! Checkmark is who's been designed (I couldn't include them all in the photos) and the numbers next to their name is the number of angels they have

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k4i-ztimz · 6 months ago

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✨☕️✨

☕️🦴☕️

✨☕️✨

Alt credit ver:

✨ ☕️ ✨

☕️ 🦴 ☕️

✨ ☕️ ✨

Panic disorder stimboard!

I love the star on the flag! It was a bit hard because the grey can be seen as green or blue, but i did neither! I personally really like this one!

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shion-yu · 10 months ago

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Ice Cream for Dinner

Chicken pox sucks. Some Shu and Alex father-son caretaking with a shocking lack of angst. This is pure fluff folks. To the anons who requested stories with Shu and Ryo sick, they’re in progress! But this is Alex’s turn, lol. 2,275 words, no TWs, CW sick 13 year old.

It turns out that having a kid in school for the first time means getting sick with every nasty school kid disease they bring home, and it doesn't matter if that kid isn't in preschool - middle school works just as well. In the year since Alex has come to live with Shu, Shu's been sick enough to miss work at least five times and had the sniffles on and off for the rest of the year.

He doesn't blame Alex, who seems to find Shu’s pathetic immune system somewhat amusing as long as Shu's relatively okay. Shu would rather Alex not worry about him anyways. However it definitely doesn't soften the blow that Alex stays healthy almost no matter what. He was sick once with that upper respiratory infection but that was it - otherwise the kid's been the picture of health and Shu wonders how such a skinny kid has such an immune system of steel.

"What did your mother feed you?" Shu asked him after he was diagnosed with yet another round of strep throat that had left him absolutely miserable for the past several days, but had somehow completely missed Alex.

"Mostly cereal," Alex said dryly. It came with a heavy undertone of 'if at all.' Shu sighed and went back to blowing his nose miserably. It seemed there was no secret there other than youth and a big attitude.

It was annoying to be sick all of the time, but Shu just kept telling himself that at least it wasn't Alex. Plus, on the bright side, he had pretty much infinite PTO to spend on sick days since he'd barely taken a vacation in the past ten years working for the same company. His most important job was to take care of Alex and as long as he could manage that while ill, he could avoid calling his mom to take over. That had only happened twice so far, which seemed like a win all things considered.

With all of this in mind, Shu was quite eager to enjoy the days when he was neither sick nor being called into the principal's office to discuss the behavior of his unruly charge. Both had been true this week and Shu told Alex that they were going to enjoy the Fall leaves with a walk on the Hudson. Alex rolled his eyes and told him he'd rather sit at home and watch paint dry.

"Well, too bad because there's no paint to watch dry," Shu said cheerfully. "Unless you'd like to change our activity to painting your bedroom together, those walls could use it." A fresh coat of paint would hide all the plastered-over holes Alex had punched through. But Alex seemed to think a walk was less painful (or at least significantly faster) than painting a room together, so chose the walk.

It was a bit cold out and Shu bundled up in a scarf and his warm peacoat. He encouraged Alex to wear his own warm coat and a hat, but of course that meant Alex did the exact opposite and wore his light Jean jacket, no hat, and what seemed like useless fingerless gloves. Shu didn't argue though, he was just glad they managed to get out the door.

It was a pleasant walk on the river side, despite the cool breeze. Shu was happy about all the bright orange and red leaves, something Alex wasn't that used to given he'd spent most of his childhood in California. Shu did the vast majority of the talking, but that was to be expected. However after a while he noticed Alex shivering and subtly cut their walk short by crossing the closest bridge and turning towards the direction of the car to complete their loop.

"Want my scarf?" Shu asked casually.

"Nah," Alex said. He looked distracted and kept scratching the back of his neck.

Shu kept an eye on Alex as they walked back and noticed Alex seemed to be dragging his feet more and more the longer they walked. "You okay buddy?" Shu asked him.

"I'm fine," Alex responded predictably and picked up the pace. Shu went back to talking about Avatar the Last Airbender, hoping Alex would relate to Shu's fondness of it since it was known to be a popular cartoon. "Will you stop? I don't know that show," Alex snapped irritably. Well, that didn't work, Shu thought. They fell quiet until Shu caught Alex trailing behind again, this time itching his head.

Suddenly the thought of lice popped into Shu’s mind. He stopped and waited for Alex to bump into him.

"What now?" Alex scowled.

"Anyone at school have lice? Or scabies?" Shu asked cautiously. Alex made a disgusted face, though whether it was regarding the vermin or Shu himself was unclear. Possibly both.

"I don't have lice," Alex snapped. "Those don't feel like this."

"Then what does this feel like?" Shu asked, leaping on the fact that Alex had inadvertently admitted that some discomfort was present at all.

Alex growled and started jogging towards the car. Shu tried to keep up, but the kid was way too fast for his own good. At least, usually he was, except today by the time he reached the parking lot he was panting as hard as Shu was. He looked pale - well, paler than usual - and Shu frowned, moving his hand forward to check Alex for fever. Alex yelped and dodged him, glaring. "What are you doing?! Don't touch me!"

"I wanted to see if you had a fever. Bud, do you feel okay?" Shu asked.

"No, I feel like you just forced me on a stupid walk in the cold. Let's just go home already!" Alex snapped. Shu tried not to smile at the use of the word home as it most certainly would not earn him any points right now. He relented instead and got into the driver's seat, making sure Alex buckled up (once, this was another heated point of contention) before he pulled out of the gravel parking lot.

The drive home was about thirty minutes. Alex leaned against the door and pulled his knees close to his chest, making him look ever more childish. He was thirteen and as gangly and tall as a mung bean sprout, Shu's mom said, but he still acted like a kid. He wasn't mature and given everything he'd been through, Shu expected it might take him longer than other kids to get a handle on his emotions. That didn't mean it was easy to get through all the fighting and outbursts, but Shu told himself it was just something they’d have to work through together. Alex was already doing so much better than when he'd first come to live with Shu, after all. Progress felt slow at times, but it was there.

Progress was Alex admitting to Shu as they pulled into the driveway, "I don't feel good."

Shu made himself not-smile at Alex trusting him to know that and said, "Let's get you inside and in bed then." Alex went straight to his room and changed into comfortable clothes, then dove under the blankets, shivering. Shu brought in the thermometer and Tylenol and sat on the edge of Alex's bed. Alex was scratching his chest and looked flushed.

"Can we take your temp?" Shu asked. Alex grumbled but obeyed. 100.8. Shu cringed - Alex really was sick. Shu felt bad he'd forced Alex to go out for a cold walk with a fever, but he hadn't known. "Sorry bud, you're definitely sick. Now what're you itching, can you show me?"

Alex reluctantly dropped his hand. Shu delicately peered at Alex's neck and down Alex's shirt. There were a handful of red marks that looked like pimples. Shu tried to think of what they would be and came to a quick conclusion: "Alex, have you had chickenpox before?"

Alex shook his head no. Shu grimaced. "Well I think you've got them now." Alex should have been vaccinated, but Shu suddenly remembered the long list of 'religious' waivers Alex's parents had signed to get him into school with the bare minimum of requirements. He'd been meaning to get those updated but they'd just been so busy that Shu must have forgotten to reschedule that vaccine clinic visit they'd missed. Crap. If Shu remembered correctly, there wasn't much to do for chicken pox other than stop Alex from itching and keep the fever down. "I think I'll call the pediatrician. Maybe we can avoid a trip to the office for you, okay?"

That seemed to earn Shu a few points and Alex nodded. Shu called the doctor's office from his spot on Alex's bed and managed to get a nurse on the phone who went over the list of symptoms, which Shu then relayed to Alex before confirming or denying. Headache? Check. Sore throat? Check. Itchy rash that looked like little red bumps? Definitely.

"Sounds like chicken pox, and if he does have them it's better you keep him at home away from any other kids at the office," the nurse said. "No school until the blisters are gone, about a week. Keep him from scratching. You can do Tylenol and calamine lotion and Benedryl but as long as his fever stays under 102 after meds he should be fine. Good luck."

Shu didn't know if he liked the sound of her good luck, because that meant she thought he'd need it. Shu sighed and hung up. "Well, guess you've got all of next week off school," Shu said. "Any requests? Books? Soup?"

"I wanna sleep," Alex said grouchily. Shu had expected that. He made sure Alex took his Tylenol and gave him a bottle of calamine lotion to dot onto the pox and then left him alone to stew in his teenage misery. He was sure Alex’s friend Ryo would be getting a slew of upset texts any second now.

Shu mostly tried to let Alex be alone like he wanted, but the problem was that Alex got bored very quickly and soon wandered out to the rest of the house, scratching and whining about anything and everything. Shu tried to remind himself that Alex probably felt like crap and wasn’t purposefully being a pain - probably. After Alex’s third pass through the living room though Shu made him sit on the couch and insisted on putting calamine lotion on Alex’s back where he couldn’t reach. He supposed it was a testament to how uncomfortable Alex really was that it didn’t become an argument.

By the next morning Alex’s spots had turned into angry looking blisters and he got upset every time Shu told him not to scratch. Shu tried to tape oven mitts on Alex’s hands like his mom suggested but Alex was too old to put up with that and nearly decked him in the face. “Alex, don’t hit me,” Shu said sternly. Alex glared but didn’t try it again.

The fever was worse. The headache was worse. Alex could barely talk because his throat hurt so much. When Shu took a look down Alex’s throat with his phone flashlight he could see how red it was; google said he probably had chicken pox in his throat and that liquid Benadryl could help. He set Alex up on the couch and took a quick trip to the pharmacy, purchasing basically everything he could think of to get Alex to settle down and came home with two bags full of supplies. Alex was napping with the TV on, and Shu didn’t think there was any point in waking the beast before he had to so just sat next to him and let him sleep.

Alex looked particularly young with chicken pox blisters all over his skin and limp, messy hair that was damp from a tenuous fever. Shu sighed fondly as he watched him and thought to himself that this week couldn’t go by fast enough. Eventually Alex woke up, predictably grumpy, and Shu pulled out all the stops. He made vanilla pudding on the stove because that always tasted better than the pre-packaged stuff. He served Alex tea and Gatorade with a curly straw, which Alex called stupid but didn’t remove. He slathered Alex’s entire body with calamine lotion and probably gave him a bit more Benadryl than was strictly the correct dose, but he felt terrible about how miserable Alex seemed. The fever stayed manageable though, so Shu was able to keep him at home at least.

Around dinner time, Shu made Alex soup and served it on the couch. “How’re you holding up, bud?” He asked, sitting next to his miserable, blanket-covered kid.

“This sucks,” Alex croaked. “I hate chicken pox.”

Shu couldn’t help but laugh a little, which earned him a glare from Alex. “I know, it sucks a lot. But this is the worst day, it’ll get better. In the meantime, let’s have some soup.”

“I don’t want soup,” Alex grumped.

“So what do you want?” Shu asked patiently.

Alex looked away, pulling the blanket closer around himself. “...Ice cream?” He mumbled.

“Alright,” Shu said easily.

Alex looked at him in surprise. “Really?” He asked, his voice rising one tone in excitement, although he was clearly trying not to get his hopes up.

“Sure. Ice cream for dinner it is. You get special treats when you’re sick, you know?” Alex hadn’t known, it seemed. Shu served him a large bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and Alex ate the whole thing. Then he fell asleep next to Shu as Shu ate the now cold soup, a satisfied, sugary smile on the boy’s face.

#shionwrites #oc: shu #oc: alex #sickfic #sicknario #whump #illness whump #sick whump #chicken pox #cw: minor whump #parental relationship #hurt/comfort #oc sickfic #Alex and Shu

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victorthesilly · 1 month ago

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Hi guys take all my personas and then 1 killer drawing from that 1 post where everything was accidentally jumbled up :/

Does anyone have any tips for backgrounds?

#cw fake blood #cw minor blood #tw fake blood #tw minor blood #art #undertale #utmv #killer sans #oc art #persona art #zombie #zombie art #alien #me when I turn myself into a zombie and alien #ill show my fursona next #they're silly

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flutt3rb4tz · 11 months ago

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every time i see the word "delulu" i cringe so hard its like hooooly fuck those ppl would hate me and my "everyone can read my mind im always being watched/theres bugs crawling on me all the time/someones going to kill me" bullshit LOLLLL

#💞 god is calling #🛑 !!CW DELUSIONS!!#<- really minor cw but lie LOLL #not a vent btw just. opinions opinions #ive watched ppl like me get called 'delulu' for #literally being .. mentally ill #like. in front of me #before my face. DIRECTED at my conversation #and its like #what is fucking wrong with you actually #its not funny? its not funny. its not funny why are you #joking about it??#i hate tiktok and twitter for getting it popular #i really do

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chaoticgeminate · 2 years ago

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Black Vultures (iv)

Summary: When your plane to a beach resort vacation crashes, nowhere near your destination, you have to depend on a stranger to protect you from horrors you never could have imagined.

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit** (Thar be some smut ahead)

Notes/Warnings: Series involves general survival, cannibals, violence, and gore with body horror elements. This is based loosely off 'The Forest' and while I may have used a picture of Pero in armor we are working with a modernized Pero here.

**ILLNESS AND FAIRLY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE WARNING AS WELL AS A BIT OF SMUT**

Written for @yearofcreation2023

Series Masterlist | Year of Video Game AUs Masterlist

and you haven't seen the last of me just yet (4.6k)

Your condition wasn’t improving, even with the heavy dose of antibiotics you were taking daily, and after day two the team had lost contact with William and the others. Each day you waited there were more and more gunshots by the security forces, taking down cannibals -it had finally been confirmed after a team had scouted out one of the villages that these people were actually killing and eating other humans- and in the worst case it was one of those monsters. Even now your eyelids felt heavy and your limbs felt sore, like you were trying to move with weights holding you down, and the medics were perplexed by the sudden turn your health had taken.

Crying was pretty normal for you now, between your worry for Pero and the fear that you weren’t going to make it through this, and thankfully nobody seemed to think less of you for the depression you’d fallen into over the last week. It felt weird, you’d been… fine with the thought of dying before this when it was just you and Pero; that had been the most likely outcome, especially when you first got sick. But now? Now you were scared of going to sleep and just not waking up, it made you jolt awake nearly every hour after trying to sleep with a scream dying in your throat before you could even make a sound.

Gunshots ripped you out of your half-dazed state this time, louder and closer than they’d ever been, and the tent flap opened as a cannibal covered in blood walked through with a jagged knife in his hand that had to have come from one of the soldiers. His eyes landed on you and there wasn’t even a chance in hell at your defending yourself, your arm felt like lead and even rolling your head to look at him made you hurt. The chilling smile on his face had tears forming in your eyes, blurring your vision and making your lashes stick together, the gunfire was still going but you couldn’t even work up the power to make a sound for help.

Pain flooded every synapse in your body when that blade was stabbed down, right through the joint of your elbow, and that was when you screamed. Especially when, upon wrenching the blade free, the jagged edge of the back ripped through worse due to its serration. You flailed, the pain and adrenaline strengthening you enough to roll away from this and stumble off the bed, your feet barely supporting you as you tried to find a weapon or something. The IV lines were ripped out of your skin, the drip lines starting to spill fluid in your frantic need to escape, and you barely managed to stay upright when your vision blurred.

The cannibal laughed, a chilling sound with all the screaming and gunfire going on around you, and you hurled an instrument tray at him as a distraction before running out of the tent on stumbling feet. Bodies blocked your path as you searched for a place to hide, to find safety and shelter, and you nearly shrieked when your foot gave out and you began to tumble down a low incline. The pain of landing on river stones almost made you scream, instead you dragged yourself under the dirt overhang and laid there as all the fight escaped you at the touch of the freezing liquid, and you tried to keep quiet when you heard the footsteps above you.

For whatever reason they didn’t look for you, didn’t look under the edge of the dirt, and eventually the gunfire died down leaving nothing but silence from where you’d found yourself. Cold and shivering, pain in your arm and body, and unable to even work up the strength to move; left there in the few millimeters of water and on that cold stone waiting for death.

Maybe it was a day, maybe it wasn’t even half that, but eventually someone screaming your name broke through the dark that had lured you in like a siren song; you couldn’t move at all, couldn’t talk past the shivering, and you blinked away the blurriness as William’s face filled your vision. He picked you up, and this time you did wail as the pain in your arm turned fire hot, but he didn’t stop moving at all. William was moving fast and running hard, each step jostling you painfully and making you whimper, but you couldn’t even find the strength to fight against the discomfort.

Large, hot, hands cupped your face and Pero looked terrified; you couldn’t hear what he was saying and when you blinked again you were sure some stretch of time had passed because you were held down with something and definitely not in the woods. You didn’t realize it was inside a helicopter -and you wouldn’t know that until much later- but hours of time were lost to falling unconscious, up until you were finally admitted to the nearest hospital.

Keegan’s recovery was going smoothly, the haunted look in his eyes was still there and likely would be for a long time, but Pero had been relieved to find the other man alive. Your best friend was marked with scars from his own ordeal, meeting another survivor Eric who had been looking for his son, and Eric had been transferred to a local prison as his son was being turned over for observation by William and Lin’s unit after what he’d confessed to have done to the first rescue plane. Pero sat beside Keegan, both men silent as they waited, and after a long moment Keegan finally broke that tense emptiness.

“Have they told you anything yet?”

“No, not yet, I’ve only just agreed to go back. Haven’t been able to find out how she’s been.” He had wanted to get out, to run from this world of things that shouldn’t be real, but that forest proved there was more in the world that he didn’t know existed and that running from it once had cursed him forever.

“Doctors said she’s been woken up from her medical coma, now that they’ve finally gotten all traces of the infection out, she’s been asking about you.” Pero had been inconsolable for the past week, torn between angry pacing outside your hospital room and crying in his own, terrified that he’d failed you and that you weren’t going to make it through. Keegan had been forced to make a choice for you, as the military had not wanted to bring your family into what happened until they had a proper cover story and knew if you were going to comply to a request of discretion or not, but that choice had saved your life.

A nurse stepped out of the room and looked at both men, the look on her face was tense, but she did nod and gesture to the door; Keegan looked surprised when Pero stayed seated but then grateful before he walked into the room. Even through the closed door Pero heard your shriek of surprise and joy, heard the soft sobs as you no doubt cried that your friend had survived, and he was truly glad to have that peace of mind for you. It was less than an hour before Keegan came out, looking just as red-eyed and exhausted as Pero felt, but the cathartic crying from knowing you’d both survived had clearly helped lighten the man’s emotional load.

Pero clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him into a tight hug, and Keegan’s returning hug was just as tight as the other man broke down into soft tears again.

“Thank you, Pero, for keeping her safe. Thank you for protecting my best friend.”

“I would do it all over again, every time.”

Pero faced the door, chest tight, before walking in after Keegan departed; you were sitting up in bed, looking significantly better than when you’d first been brought here, and he watched the way your eyes widened before you were reaching for him. He ignored the guilt that slammed through him at the sight of the bandages on your left elbow covering the healing injury, the limb nearly unable to be saved if not for Keegan, and he captured your face in his hands to press his forehead to yours while you gripped the loose fabric of his henley and sobbed at the sight of him.

“You’re okay, I thought- I thought you and William and the others didn’t make it when they lost contact-“

“No, bonita, no. We found an underground lab, where they were studying those things and our radio was destroyed. I am glad that you held on long enough for us to get you here, to get you help.” He felt his own eyes water with relief, he was not proud of how he’d reacted when he returned to the camp to find it in shambles and only William managing to track you down and find you had been enough to quell his howling rage and desire to kill every single cannibal left in those woods.

“They- there’s nerve damage. Permanent nerve damage, so the doctors suggested a compression sleeve and a medicinal card for pain management, I can’t- there’s a lot I won’t be able to do now. I have no idea how I’m going to afford my bills if I can’t work, if I even have a job still.” Pero glanced at your arm again, it was in a splint to ensure that you kept it in a position that would allow it to heal, and he knew that the next part of the conversation was going to be the hardest. He sat back on the side of the bed, taking your good hand in his and just allowing himself to be relieved that you were okay.

“Your- all your medical expenses will be paid for entirely, bonita, that is something I can promise you. But the rest is a bit more complex of a situation.”

“They want to buy my silence, don’t they? They’ll pay for all my expenses if I sign that litany of NDAs you talked about before.”

“Sí, that just about sums it up. If you don’t they will paint you as a madwoman and ruin you, just like they did to Ballard when he refused to stay silent out the tao tei.” He knew you’d recognize the name, Ballard had gone public with his experience and been painted as a raving lunatic since there was no evidence anywhere to support his claims. Shamed, embarrassed, and mocked to the point that he’d taken his own life to avoid the public fallout of trying to put the government on the spot. The story of the man’s suicide had been plastered all over tabloids and conspiracy theory articles everywhere.

“I’m joining the task force again, to work with William and Lin, I tried to run from whatever magic or mutant nonsense is happening in the world once already and it clearly wasn’t done with me. I just- even if you refuse to sign those forms I will handle all your expenses myself.” Your good hand squeezed his, eyes shooting wide in alarm, and you looked away as your eyes grew misty. He hated knowing that he was making you cry, already you’d be going through extensive therapy just to try and bounce back from the mental damage this event caused, now he was compounding that emotionally.

“Keegan is too, he’s leaving to start his training tomorrow now that I’ve come out of my coma, they’ve been stalling so that he could say goodbye while he got cleared medically and… and emotionally.” There was still a lot of trauma for everyone that had made it out, and it would certainly linger, but Pero honestly wasn’t at all surprised to learn that Keegan couldn’t go back to a normal life after this. He had struggled for years to try and remind himself that not only was he alive but that it was all over, he’d barely just begun feeling like maybe he could move on at last before this happened.

“If I could go back and stop it all from happening I would-“

“I wouldn’t.”

He stopped the second you interrupted him, his eyes studying the determined and firm expression that you wore.

“I wouldn’t stop it, Pero. What I- what we had to endure was awful, but I’d rather know the truth than live in ignorance, and we have each other now. Even if nothing becomes of the interest we have for one another-“

“Bonita, I have every intention of pursuing you romantically, I will always be your friend but I would like to be more than that too if you’ll allow me the chance. You are far braver than you think of yourself, more resilient than anyone else in your situation would have been, I would love to get to know you better outside of all of that.” He watched the way your determined expression shifted to something softer, fond, the way your eyes began to water a little.

“I can’t wait.”

Sometimes you forgot that you’d been on an IV at the hospital, had access to instant painkillers that made it bearable, because the bad pain days had become a challenge.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this for me, it’s hard.” Pero didn’t answer your morose statement, the pain in your arm had been debilitating today to the point that you couldn’t even do anything but lay on the bed crying, and you watched him fold your laundry as you waited for your edible to kick in and offer you some form of relief. Your good arm reached out and Pero caught your hand, leaning down to press a kiss to your fingertips and nuzzle his cheek into your palm.

“It is not hard, Bonita, and I do this because I love you. I understand that there will be bad days mixed in with the good, I am not some… selfish boy unable to do extra chores when my girlfriend is suffering.”

“But you already split housework with me and take over whenever I’m having a bad mental day too-“

“Sí, because I love you. You have done the same for me, and during the times I am away you do everything on your own, don’t think I don’t notice that I have yet to come home to the house being left messy. I know that when I am away you push yourself through the pain to work and clean, Bonita, so please let me do this for you.” His expression was gentle and adoring, those dark eyes of his shining with affection so deep that you felt like you were drowning in his love; tears began to swim in your eyes and Pero shoved the pile of clothes back into the hamper with his other hand before climbing into the bed and pulling you so that you were half draped over his chest and his other hand could hold the back of your head.

“I’m sorry you have to clean up after me all the time-“

“I do not and you know this, we’ll have to ensure you have a small stash of edibles by the bed for days that you cannot get up at all from how bad your pain is, that’s all. You’re only this distressed over it because this is the second day in a row that you’ve woken up with this pain level, I will call the doctor and get see what they recommend.”

But with those bad days came good ones, when you woke up feeling okay and being able to do whatever you needed to get done, and on those days you struggled with keeping your tasks minimal because you knew that it would be far too easy to push yourself just a bit too much.

“I can do it!” Your voice was chipper and light as you took the bag from Keegan and blew a raspberry at his offended call of your name, scampering up the steps into his apartment before he could try and take the craft goods back and hand them off to Jackie or Leah who were already overburdened with bags. You began organizing what had already been brought up, you couldn’t exactly join this year’s ‘crochet seven days away’ project so instead you were hanging out as moral support, in the past you had ended up doing more with fetching snacks and drinks or making sure nobody ran out of material anyway so it wasn’t like it’d be too different.

The project for this year was a massive blanket and with three people working on nonstop you were wondering just how much progress would be made, the challenge was to make as big of whatever it was you’d picked as possible, and you weren’t missing this year just because of what happened. You’d packed your clothes and some edibles to tide you over, all three of your compression sleeves, and Pero knew where you were at and promised to stop by if you needed him for anything.

“So, uh, not to be grim but- have you considered what the doctor’s suggested?” Keegan glanced sharply at Jackie while Leah winced where she was pulling out and sorting the material by color.

“Yes and no, I have good days too and it’s not like amputating the damaged part of my arm is going to fix everything. Yes the nerve pain will be gone for the most part but I’d have the waiting period and physical therapy for any prosthetic to consider too. Plus… I’d be agreeing to get my arm taken off.” You glanced at your colorful sleeve cover, Keegan and the girls had made long glove style arm warmers that you could use to hide your compression sleeve, this one was the first of the bunch and made with a sunset gradient of colors and snap closures.

“You know I’m not pressuring you right? I just want you to feel comfortable in your own skin, girl. I’m glad you’re doing okay and that you’re going to therapy, that you are taking care of yourself and that Pero is taking care of you, and this is your choice. We’ll all support you no matter what you pick.” Jackie’s smile was warm and you nodded since you knew she hadn’t meant it badly, she’d been through this scenario before with a cousin that had lost a portion of his leg and foot to diabetes when he refused to get himself any type of help, that all she wanted to do was offer you a space to vent about how you felt with your choices.

You couldn’t tell them the whole truth of what happened, and neither could Keegan, but your friends didn’t need to know the whole truth to understand your conflict.

Some days you felt the most normal, the pain tolerable enough that you didn’t need to self-medicate but wanting to stay home and relax, these days were among Pero’s favorite since it always involved movies or TV shows watched together or even just reading something aloud while he laid with his head in your lap.

“Alright, you win. There are fan writers out there who can provide a more compelling story than some of the fiction novels that I have read.” Pero had challenged your love of fanfiction, after catching you reading an update on your phone when you thought he was asleep -you’d lost a boyfriend over a particularly smut-filled fanfic he’d found by going through your browser history (a high key "what the fuck")- so fessing up to Pero had been really nerve-wracking. But instead of meeting you with mocking behavior he’d been curious, asking why you enjoyed it and what your favorites were.

“I am a man who watches porn, Bonita, treating you reading sex scenes in writing as worse is stupid.” Pero’s comment back then had earned him a smile and a kiss that left your toes curling when he took control of it, the fact that he was just so good about your reading proved that you had truly found a great man.

“Should I leave a review about how much you loved Stranger at my Gate? How you identified so well with the main character?” He hummed and nodded, dictating the review that you tapped out on your phone, and you read it back to him before submitting it. Pero looked up at you for a moment as you navigated out of the fic to the main pairing page, setting your phone aside to look down at him, and he turned his head to press a kiss to the inside of your left elbow where your scars shimmered in the low lighting of the living room. You smiled and leaned down to kiss him, making Pero lean up into it, and he shifted to turn around so he could drape himself on you.

Laying down like a content cat with his full weight pressing you into the sofa, his head resting so his ear was right over your heart. It was moments like this, when the light was low and it was calm, that you both just took the time to breathe and remember that you were alive and okay now.

There were also days you spent together that were a much different flavor of being together.

He was devouring you, his broad shoulders wedging your legs open, one of his hands was gripping at your hip while the other held yours; his mouth opened wider and your back arched off the bed, the grip you had on his hair tightening as his tongue swirled to collect more of your wetness. Pero called himself a messy eater and he was no different when it was his mouth between your legs, smearing his face with saliva and slick as he dropped his chin to circle your entrance and the curve of his nose nudged your swollen clit.

“P-pero-!” You had lost count how many times he had made you come already, you had woken up wet and needy from a dream that slipped away like a phantom, and your beloved boyfriend had been happy to rise to the task of sating you. Hips hips rutted against the mattress, delaying his own release to make you sink into the mattress from love drunk exhaustion, and you tugged at his hair as your body ached to feel him.

Those dark eyes swam with delight and he came willingly, dragging his skin along yours, his messy mouth slotting to your own as you felt the heft of him drag along your slit before he sheathed himself with a slow thrust; it was easy with how wet you were, his saliva and your wet release making him sigh with pleasure into your very lungs as you breathed him in.

In the beginning he’d been gentler, unwilling to add to the pain that you already experienced, but time together -years together now- helped him heal with you and his rough thrust jolted your body as you grabbed at his back and curled your legs around his hips and thighs. Pero let out a throaty sound against the side of your neck when he dragged his mouth along your skin, the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours joining the symphony of heavy breaths and soft moans, and as he shifted his knees just a touch to angle your hips your sighs became soft mewls.

“Come for me, Bonita, soak me.” Pero braced himself on one arm so he could grab your chin, angle your head to mouth at the soft spot right below your ear, and even if you wanted to deny yourself he’d made you soft and sensitive and pliant; the clutch of you mingling with your own gasp of his name and Pero’s hips stuttered as he filled you with him. Your breaths were hot and your sweat slicked bodies were close, and you just clung to him as Pero rolled onto his side and just held you.

Days apart were always harder but the reunions made them worth it.

Jamil handed you a stack of files and you set them down at your desk, a stable job had been your only demand for signing the litany of NDAs upon getting out of the hospital, and the government had employed you to work in the same line of covert operations that Pero did just from the safety of a desk. Pero and his team had been gone for a week now, not the shortest amount of time but nowhere near the longest, and you were doing okay for now. There had been a bad pain day just yesterday, making work difficult but you’d fought through it to avoid the mocking stares of the others, and you could practically feel the weight of those looks on your compression sleeve.

It was no secret what happened to you, the former department leader had all but dressed you down in front of everyone when you’d called out due to a bad pain day, basically telling everyone that you weren’t allowed to act like some princess and skip work by faking any pain. He hadn’t lasted long after that, you hadn’t intended to get him fired but the man made one mistake by calling Lin -who was his boss- to tell her that he wanted you gone. Pero had made quite the show of walking into the room behind his friends, the day after, decked out in his tactical gear and the man had been not only fired but also subjected to lawsuits out the ass for violating HR policies by talking about your experience and disability to others without your consent.

Now the entire office was terrified of you, hated you and excluded you from everything with the fear that they would be next, except for Jamil. You were far from blind to the fact that his kindness stemmed from a desire to be left alone, him being okay with you made everyone else leave him be, but you were okay with that because he made it a little more tolerable during the workday. His favorite thing was to tell you god awful puns and dad jokes, one an hour, just to make you laugh.

You went home to an empty house and went through the motions of showering, not bothering to pick up your work clothes off the floor today after getting changed, and dropped down onto the bed. Bad pain days always left you feeling out of sorts, reaching out to the bedside table and grabbing one of the edibles from the little organizer case that Pero put together for you, and you drifted off to sleep as the pain dulled and your mind drifted through the haze of semi-consciousness into the arms of Morpheus.

What disrupted your sleep was the weight of the blankets covering you, the bed shifting under someone’s weight, and your half-open gaze spotted Pero’s form slide into bed before he pulled you into his body as he whispered words of love into the crown of your head. But his spicy body wash and the warmth of him fresh out of the shower lulled you back into a deeper rest now that he was here, now that he was home.

It was a hard life being on this side of the truth, nightmares you would never escape plaguing your sleep sometimes, but you were okay and you would continue to be okay. Together.

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Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

#year of creation #year of video game aus #yearofcreation2023 #the great wall fanfic #the forest fanfic #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero x f!reader #year of themed creation #cw cannibals #cw cannibalism #cw smut #cw illness #minors dni #chaoticwrites

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