#if you're taking a medication & someone is triggered by that

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Here's the tentative list for the third month

March: Team Whump

Week 1: Self-sacrifice

Day 1:

Refusing to leave teammate behind

Taking a team member’s place

Day 2:

Buying the team time

"It's been an honor working with you."

Day 3:

Making a bargain

What’s your favorite part of team whump?

Day 4:

Survivor’s guilt

“[Name], no!”

Day 5:

Suicide mission

What’s the most tragic whump you’ve read?

Day 6:

Volunteering for the most dangerous role

“Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain.”

Day 7:

Lost team member

“It’s a price worth paying.”

Week 2: Bound/trapped together

Day 1:

Bound to each other

Used as bait

Day 2:

Sharing a cell

"You’re in my personal space."

Day 3:

Whole team captured at once

Do you prefer to follow or subvert tropes?

Day 4:

Planning escape together

"What are our options?"

Day 5:

Trapped together by environment

How do you create an interesting/varied team to write (or otherwise create) about?

Day 6:

Team kept in line by threats to other members

"Well...this is awkward."

Day 7:

Depending on team member for rescue

“I can’t believe this.”

Week 3: Hiding wounds

Day 1:

Not wanting the others to worry

"Yeah, I'm okay..."

Day 2:

Being ignored or insulted when they try to tell someone about it

"You're hurt!"

Day 3:

Feeling they have to be/look strong

Multiple whumpees or multiple whumpers?

Day 4:

Others need medical care more

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Day 5:

Collapse

What real life experiences have you used as whump inspo?

Day 6:

Bleeding through clothing

"Why would you hide this from me?"

Day 7:

Wounds getting worse

“You’re not looking too hot.”

Week 4: Unhealthy/harmful team

Day 1:

Whumper as team member

Abusive leader

Day 2:

Entire team as whumper

“I can’t believe you!”

Day 3:

Oblivious team

What’s your favorite team dynamic in fiction?

Day 4:

Blaming each other

“We need you to be better.”

Day 5:

Just using whumpee

What emotion do you most often try to infuse your work with?

Day 6:

Betrayal

“You would sacrifice yourself for us, right?”

Day 7:

Left for dead

Team triggers whumpee

[pa-pa-plasma]

did not expect to wake up to getting called an ableist who thinks disabled people are gross, all for saying that addicts also deserve accommodations when possible. HATE living through something any normal person would hear about & view as "shadows in the water"

[deathbxnny]

Can you do how the arcane characters would react to you having a Panic attack/panick attacks

Arcane characters reacting to you having a panic attack! | Caitlyn, Sevika, Jinx, Vi x Gn!Reader

Thank you for your request, Anon! I absolutely loved writing this, so I hope you'll enjoy it!<33

Content: Panic attacks, fluff, swearing, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

Her first instinct is to immideatly take you somewhere safe and private when she notices the panic attack approaching. She has very good intuition and has observed you for long enough to know your cues and signs, but sometimes even her own senses about you fail her during acute attacks that come out of nowhere. This doesn't mean that you can't rely on her to take care of you anyway.

"Hey, hey... let's breathe together, okay? Alright. Deep breathe in... hold it... and now release slowly... good job, let's do it again."

She's very quick to react to your needs and usually tries to regulate your breathing first before anything else, as that's how she learned to deal with them in her medical training. Caitlyn will also try and keep some distance in between you two in case you need space and only come closer once you're ready for that. She's very gentle and patient, as she soothes away your fears and worries.

Later on, she'll gently hold you and spoil you with nice food whilst you finally calm down and rest. Cait won't ever push you to tell her what triggered you, but will encourage you to tell her how she can help you better next time. Something she'll probably write down somewhere for future reference for better efficiency.

》SEVIKA

The first time it happens to you around her, she'll admittedly be a little surprised. It's not like she hadn't seen panic attacks before, but she simply just never had to deal with them before. With that said, her first instinct is to wonder if someone had bothered you and, if so, how quick she can beat them up for hurting you like this. The last thing she wants is for someone to ruin that beautiful smile of yours, and the sight of you suffering like that makes her feel uneasy.

"Alright, tell me what you need, and I'll do it for you right now. I just... fuck, tell me how to help you, sweetheart."

Sevika will lean down to your level after also taking you somewhere private so that she can let her guard down in peace and focus on you. She's not good at comforting people no matter who you are, and she's certainly also not the most affectionate person out there. But she knows to keep her distance and focus on what you need from her in that moment. Your hyperventilating and short breaths worry her, but that's nothing she can't handle with some direction from you.

After the panic attack blows over, she'll demand a detailed list of what exactly she should do better next time. She doesn't like being unprepared, especially when it comes to your care and well-being.

》JINX

She has memorized absolutely everything about you and is the first person to notice when a panic attack is coming up, which makes her the best helper out there at that moment. Jinx immideatly springs into action and brings you to her hideout, where she knows things are safe and sound. No one can hurt you here, especially not with her around. She'll sit on the ground with you and take your hands in her own carefully. The girl doesn't make any sudden moves and just observes every reaction you make very closely, practically analyzing them to know what to do next. And her voice would be so calm and soothing whilst she speaks.

"It's alright, cuddlebug. No one's laying a hand on ya whilst I'm here... so let's just breathe together."

Jinx doesn't want you to feel alone whilst you're going through this and will be right there with you until the last of your tears have been shed. Afterward, she'll either cuddle you to sleep or get you something nice to eat. Either way, you're being treated like royalty by her, just because she doesn't want you to feel like she did when she still had to suffer through everything all on her own. Having you here is a blessing, and taking care of you was a way to pay you back for it.

》VI

Despite what people may think, Vi's intuition about other people has never failed her. She always feels so deeply for others. It isn't all too surprising when she is quick to notice your mood shifting drastically out of nowhere. Once the panic attacks start, she'll have enough past experiences to take care of you as well as she can. It may not always be perfect due to her inability to express her love and affection all too well in moments of panic, but she'll still pull through for you. Getting you out of danger and into a more secluded area, she'll wrap her jacket around your shoulders and try soothing your quick breathing.

"Hey, hey, hey, let's calm down, okay? I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you."

She may honestly slightly panic herself, especially as seeing you so distraught messes with her own emotions, too. Vi hates to see you suffer, and the last thing she wants is for you to potentially get hurt if you don't calm down.

Vi will most likely ask you what she can do better next time as well, since she secretly feels a bit disappointed in herself for not being able to do more for you. But she's open to learning how to be perfect for you next time, that's for sure.

[mournthebird]

Silver and Garnet.

summary: Soldat hurts himself a lot.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Self harm | Mentions of non-consensual medical procedures | Body mutilation | Post!Body torture

a/n: I had another wip but I have no clue where I'm going with it so I started this one. Since someone commented the other day, I had to write another scenario specifically for this. I wrote something kinda touching this subject on my other blog but this one is exploring it better. Heed warnings, potentially triggering. Unedited. ;; wc: 4.3k

So many things to tackle with him.

You had done the hardest so far. That was good.

He was still wary around you. He avoided you.

He stayed locked in the bedroom you spared, hiding like a frightened animal. You hadn't seen him in a few days, the only evidence of his presence were the slightly eaten down bowls of broth and mashed potatoes you left for him. The untouched portions of these meals showed you just how fragile he still was, barely sustaining himself on the meager amounts he managed to consume.

His self-imposed isolation spoke volumes about the depth of his trauma, leaving you to wonder about the extent of his emotional wounds and the long road to recovery that lay ahead. You had never been a caregiver before, hell taking care of yourself proved to be hard sometimes. But now you had a responsibility for someone else, someone who really needs it.

Luckily, he had taken the opportunity to at least go to the bathroom without any sense of apprehension or unease. You often heard the shower running and he spent close to an hour in the shower at a time. You never went in to question him or why it took him so long to shower. Sometimes he'd let you wash him off, he did when he first arrived.

But for now, he liked having privacy, and you didn't blame him for wanting it.

You had been sitting on the couch and his shower had exceeded well over an hour, which was odd. Normally he only clocked close to an hour, just below sixty minutes. But he had been in the bathroom for much longer, and the shower had been running the entire time. You could spot steam peeking out from the cracks in the closed door, rising to the ceiling and fogging your apartment lightly.

Today, the shower had been running for an unusually long time, prompting you to check on him. Given his delicate health condition, you couldn't afford to be anything but vigilant. With a slight sense of concern, you gently pushed aside the warm, fuzzy blanket that had been draped over your legs. Rising from the comfortable embrace of the couch, you stretched your limbs briefly before padding across the room towards the bathroom door. The sound of running water grew louder as you approached, but there were no other noises coming from inside.

Reaching the door, you hesitated for a moment before raising your hand. You gently rapped your knuckles against the smooth surface of the door, being careful not to make too loud a sound. The last thing you wanted was to startle him in his potentially vulnerable state. "Soldat?" you called out softly, your voice barely audible over the steady stream of water, "Are you okay in there? It's perfectly fine if you're still showering, I just wanted to make sure you're doing alright. Is everything okay?"

Silence greeted you, save for the continuous patter of water against tile. The lack of response sent a small shiver of worry down your spine.

"Soldat?" you tried again, your voice a touch louder this time, tinged with growing concern. "Can I come in? Just to check on you?" You pressed your ear against the door, straining to hear any sound of movement or acknowledgment. Several long seconds ticked by, each one amplifying your unease. Still, there was no reply, not even the slightest indication that he had heard you. The silence stretched on, broken only by the relentless sound of running water, leaving you to grapple with mounting worry and indecision.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to confront the situation head-on, pushing aside any thoughts of future repercussions. You reached out and gently grasped the cold metal of the door handle. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you slowly turned the knob and eased the door open, the hinges creaking softly.

As the bathroom came into view, your eyes were immediately drawn to him, huddled in the corner of the shower. His form was hunched over, back pressed firmly against the tiled walls as if trying to disappear into them. The shower was running over him but instead of clear water, a steady stream of crimson flowed beneath him, swirling ominously before disappearing down the drain.

Your gaze was inevitably drawn to his right hand, it was covered in blood, fresh and glistening under the harsh bathroom lights. His nails were ragged and torn, thick chunks of flesh clung to them, the aftermath to the frenzied self-mutilation he had inflicted upon himself. The raw, exposed skin underneath looked so painful, the pieces of skin that he clearly had torn and tried to rip away from himself clear as day.

Your eyes slowly traced the contours of his body, lingering on the gleaming silver titanium that seamlessly merged with his flesh. The junction between metal and skin was marked by a vicious scar, a sight you had seen before during your previous bathing sessions. However, this time it appeared significantly more severe. The area was angry and inflamed, with fresh blood seeping from the edges, and the surrounding tissue looked far more mutilated than you recalled. The overall damage seemed to have intensified, leaving you with a sense of growing concern.

His eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed straight ahead, as if seeing something beyond the confines of the room. The vacant stare sent a chill down your spine, he looked so empty and haunted there under the steady shower. His hand trembled visibly, betraying the depth of his distress very clearly, as if his wounds weren’t enough to go off of. Words couldn’t compare to this sight alone.

"Soldat..." You whispered, your voice barely audible as you gently closed the door behind you, careful not to startle him. The soft click of the latch seemed to echo in the tense silence of the room, the shower had been muffled by now, your brain zoning the sound out in hopes he would speak. "What's going on, hm?" You asked carefully, your tone was slightly apprehensive, your approach had to be very careful. You remained rooted to the spot, instinctively knowing that approaching him too quickly might escalate the situation. Instead, you stayed put, your body language open and non-threatening. "Did you do that?"

He remained motionless, unresponsive to his surroundings, as if frozen in place. Despite the scalding temperature of the water cascading over him, he shivered uncontrollably, as if he were trapped in a blizzard. The relentless stream of hot water had turned his skin an angry, vivid red, resembling a freshly boiled lobster wherever it made contact. You slowly stepped closer, speaking up again. "Did you do that to your arm?" You repeated.

Soldat finally stirred, his trembling hand slowly reaching up to his bleeding shoulder. His nails dug deeply into the scar tissue as his gaze fixed upon the metallic surface of his prosthetic limb. Unbeknownst to you, his mind was awash with vivid, haunting memories of endless saws mercilessly cutting into his flesh. The loss of his arm hadn't been a clean, swift amputation. No, it had been a gradual, excruciating process that began around his elbow.

In the sterile confines of the laboratory, they had methodically removed the rest, piece by agonizing piece. Throughout the entire ordeal, Soldat remained horrifyingly conscious, forced to endure every moment as they systematically dismembered him, carving away at his body with the cold precision of butchers preparing a carcass.

The gruesome experience marked the beginning of his torment at the hands of HYDRA. It was merely the opening act in a long, nightmarish performance that would span decades. As hellish as this initial ordeal was, it paled in comparison to the tortures that would follow. The amputation of his arm, as brutal and inhumane as it had been, would come to be seen as almost merciful when juxtaposed against the relentless cruelty he would endure in the years to come.

The memory of the cold metal was seared into his consciousness. He could still vividly recall the sensation of the frigid prosthetic fused to his body, an unnatural extension of himself that felt more like an invasive parasite than a replacement limb. The cold was so intense it transcended mere discomfort, burning his flesh with its icy touch. In his desperation to be free of this foreign appendage, he had made numerous attempts to tear it from his body, clawing at the juncture where flesh met metal until his fingers were raw and bleeding.

HYDRA's response to these acts of defiance was characteristically brutal.

They forcibly removed his fingernails, not out of concern for his well-being, but to protect their valuable asset. In their eyes, Soldat was no longer a person, no longer human. He had been reduced to a mere object, a weapon to be wielded at their discretion, stripped of his humanity and autonomy.

They did this frequently, until he stopped clawing at himself.

He had nails now, and they served as desperate tools in his frantic attempt to extricate the metal embedded within his flesh. His prosthetic limb was a source of intense loathing; he yearned to be rid of it, to cast it off entirely. The sensations it produced were a maddening contradiction; simultaneously frigid and scorching, each moment bringing fresh waves of agony. The pain was all-encompassing, radiating from every point where flesh met metal, leaving him bewildered by its relentless intensity. Where was this torment originating from? How could this damn appendage cause such overwhelming suffering-

"Soldat, you're hurting yourself," you intervened, your voice cutting through the fog of his anguish and halting his downward spiral into self-destruction. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His fingers had burrowed beneath his skin like eager maggots, exposing the cold gleam of metal that had been forcibly inserted beneath layers of tissue and muscle. You reached out slowly, doing your best to avoid startling him. Carefully, you grasped his hand, applying just enough pressure to halt its destructive path, and gradually eased it away from his bloodied shoulder.

"There we go...oh, Soldat, look at you..." You whispered gently, watching the scalding water sear down on his wound, washing dark garnet into a watery pastel.

He whimpered softly in response, his body trembling with fear as he anticipated your reaction. You had caught him in the act, and he had been surreptitiously harming himself for some time now. His timid, apprehensive eyes slowly lifted to meet yours, filled with a mixture of dread and resignation. He fully expected you to unleash a torrent of angry words, to raise your hand against him, or to inflict some form of harsh punishment for the self-inflicted damage to his arm.

But to his surprise and confusion, you did none of those things. Unlike the cruel handlers from his past, you exhibited a gentle demeanor that was entirely foreign to him. Your actions spoke of kindness, a concept he struggled to comprehend.

"Ты не собираешься меня наказать?" He questioned hesitantly, his brow furrowed in a perplexed frown as he addressed you. His voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, weak and raspy from prolonged disuse. It sounded like he had swallowed broken glass, his throat utterly torn apart.

Prior to this moment, he had only uttered three single words on separate occasions: a tentative ‘thank you,’ a fearful ‘no,’ and a hesitant ‘yes.’ You found yourself grateful for your basic understanding of Russian, which allowed you to decipher his simple words, but full sentences would be trickier. He hadn't said a thing in English yet.

"Eh...I'm sorry, I don't understand, Soldat...but...I'm not mad." You reassured gently, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's get you out of here and cleaned up, okay?" You spoke softly, reaching out with a steady hand towards the shower knob. With a twist, you halted the flow of water, the sudden silence amplifying the sound of his ragged breathing. His body began trembling more noticeably now, the loss of the near-boiling water leaving him exposed to the cooler air. You couldn't help but wince internally at the sight of his scalded skin, angry red compared to the rest of him. However, you forced yourself to push that concern aside for the moment. His bloody scars, still weeping and raw, demanded your immediate attention.

You allowed him to remain seated in the shower for a brief moment, giving him time to adjust. You moved towards the bathroom counter, your eyes scanning the contents of the cabinet as you opened it. Methodically, you began pulling out the necessary first aid supplies, arranging them neatly on the countertop. Your gaze flickered back to him, noting how his trembling had intensified. You carefully approached him once more with a large, soft towel draped over your arms.

“Here, I know you’re cold now.” You draped the towel over his shivering form, taking care to keep his injured shoulder exposed so you could tend to it properly. He flinched as the fabric settled around him, instinctively responding to the unusual action. You maintained your calm demeanor, choosing not to react to the flinching. “I’m going to clean this up a bit, okay? All you have to do is sit still. That’s pretty easy, right?” You tried your best to sound comforting, knowing his nerves were through the roof and he was especially fragile.

His shoulder was a gruesome sight, coated in a deep crimson layer of blood with ragged pieces of flesh hanging precariously from where he had been violently digging. You couldn't help but let out a soft, empathetic sigh as you reached for a substantial handful of sterile gauze. Kneeling beside him with careful movements, you noticed how he deliberately avoided your gaze, his eyes fixed intently on the intricate patterns of the tile floor beneath you both.

With precision, you reached up and began to gently dab at the blood-soaked area, allowing the pristine white gauze to gradually absorb the viscous red liquid, allowing the injury to become more visible to you to assess the proper kind of treatment.

The self-inflicted damage from his frantic clawing was even worse than you had initially feared. Deep, angry tears marred his shoulder, the surrounding scar tissue visibly swollen and undoubtedly hypersensitive to the touch. Despite the pain he must have been experiencing, Soldat remained remarkably still for you, permitting you to continue your ministrations as you meticulously dabbed away the excess blood.

Your heart ached at the sight, and you found yourself whispering softly, your voice barely audible in the quiet room, "Oh, Soldat…look at what you've done to yourself." Your tone was filled with compassion rather than judgment as you continued, "You must be in so much pain to have resorted to this. I wish I could take it all away."

He didn't reply, which was expected given his current state. He simply allowed you to continue dabbing at his wounds until the majority of the bleeding had subsided. The condition of his skin was a bit alarming, and you found yourself hesitating, unsure of how to properly treat such severe injuries. Your medical knowledge was limited, lacking the expertise required for advanced treatments such as suturing.

But, upon closer inspection, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized the wounds, while serious, weren't as bad as you had initially feared. Not bad enough for stitches at least. A few carefully applied butterfly bandages and snug gauze wrapping would be sufficient to promote healing. Besides, you hoped his enhanced healing might help aid on this too.

"I'm going to start wrapping you up now, okay? I'll also need to apply some bandages over certain areas to help keep the skin together. You're being so brave and cooperative," you said, your words of encouragement causing his eyes to lift slightly, meeting yours. The subtle shift in his demeanor made your heart rate quicken, a warmth spreading through your chest as you sensed him beginning to trust you. "I need you to remain as still as possible while I do this. Can you manage that for me?"

After a moment of consideration, he responded with a soft, barely audible, "...да." The Russian affirmation, though brief, conveyed his understanding and compliance.

You offered him a warm, reassuring smile as you began the delicate process of tending to his wounds. You carefully cleaned each injury using soft cotton balls soaked in a mild antiseptic solution. You winced slightly as you dabbed the open wounds but he hadn’t flinched at all, despite knowing the antiseptic stung. Once the cleaning was complete, you applied bandages to the areas where his skin had been broken, taking extra care to position them for optimal healing. For the scar itself, you had a handful of things. First laying down a layer of soft, cushioning gauze to help with any bleeding that might occur, you then wrapped it with an adherent bandage to keep everything in place.

Throughout the entire process, he observed you intently, his gaze alternating between your focused expression and the various medical supplies you used. His eyes searched quickly for anything sharp, but he didn’t see anything like that. This experience was entirely new to him; never before had he been allowed to witness the ministrations performed on him.

The HYDRA scientists had preferred to keep him in the dark, relishing his startled reactions to unexpected pain or discomfort. It was so different to your approach. They liked watching him struggle against the bindings he was kept in, then used it as an excuse to hurt him more, as if his very valid reaction to being cut open with a scalpel or stabbed with a needle was unwarranted. But nothing you did hurt. You were so careful, like you were afraid to hurt him.

"There...all done." You hummed gently, a soft smile playing on your lips as you looked up to him once the bandages were securely fastened in place. Your eyes scanned over your handiwork, ensuring everything was just right. "Now, I want you to take it easy, okay? Don't push yourself too hard. But if it happens to come undone or feels uncomfortable, just let me know. I can always redo it for you." You reassured him, your voice warm and caring. Taking a small step back, you gave him some space, understanding that he might need a moment to adjust to the new sensation of the bandages.

Soldat, still silent, gripped the towel tighter and wrapped the damp fabric around himself, creating a cocoon of sorts. The quiet that enveloped the room was almost tangible, broken only by the soft dripping of water. You watched him carefully, noting how he seemed to be taking inventory of his newly bandaged body. In your mind, you surmised that he probably needed a few seconds to get accustomed to the feeling of the bandages against his skin, perhaps even testing their flexibility as he moved.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a minute or two, Soldat made a move to stand. His legs were a bit unsteady, trembling slightly under his weight as he rose. He took cautious steps out of the shower, leaving behind a trail of water droplets. He came to a stop directly in front of you, close enough that you could feel the residual warmth from his shower-heated skin. His still-wet hair continued to release tiny rivulets of water, the droplets trailing down his face and neck before disappearing into the towel.

Your eyes were drawn to his, those steel blue irises that always seemed to hold so much depth. As you gazed into them, trying to decipher his thoughts, you realized that while they were as inscrutable as ever, there was something there. A look, a silent request perhaps. He seemed to be seeking something more from you, though you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"Alright, let's get you properly dried off," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Your hands moved of their own accord, grasping the edges of the towel he held. "And then... well, I think we should get you settled comfortably in the living room. How does that sound?" As you spoke, you began to gently pat him dry, your movements careful and considerate, especially around the newly bandaged areas. The act felt intimate, you had done it before, but it felt different this time.

He was carefully dried off and dressed in clean, comfortable clothes before being gently guided to the living room. You led him to the spot where you had been sitting earlier, allowing him to sink into the warm impression left by your body. As you draped your thick, cozy blanket over his legs, he instinctively pulled it up higher, cocooning himself in its comforting weight. His tense muscles began to relax as he nestled deeper into the soft folds, finding a small measure of solace in the simple act of being warm and protected.

You settled yourself beside him, your eyes drawn to the bandages adorning his shoulder. You broached the subject that had been weighing on your mind, wondering about his habits, "Do you do that a lot, Soldat?" The question hung in the air, your tone carefully modulated to convey genuine concern rather than accusation or judgment.

For what felt like an eternity, he remained silent, his eyes fixed on some distant point. Just as you began to think he wouldn't respond at all, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Да." The single word, spoken so softly you almost missed it, carried the weight of countless untold stories.

"Why?" you pressed gently, hoping to coax him into opening up, to share even a fragment of the burden he carried. You yearned to understand, to offer whatever comfort or support you could. Your underground research on HYDRA had come up short, you hadn’t discovered much yet, and many of the released files the Black Widow had released were heavily encrypted. But as quickly as that tiny crack in his armor had appeared, it vanished. His lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line, and the brief, guarded glance he cast in your direction spoke louder than words.

Without uttering another word, he had made it abundantly clear that this line of inquiry would go no further. The wall between you, momentarily weakened, had been fortified once more.

"I understand... you don't want to talk about it right now. That's perfectly okay," you reassured gently, your voice filled with compassion. "I want you to know that if you ever feel the urge to hurt yourself again, you can come to me. I'm here for you, and I'll do everything in my power to help you through it." You offered this support sincerely, hoping that your words would resonate with him and provide some comfort. Your intention was to show him that there were alternative ways to cope with his pain, rather than resorting to self-harm. You wanted to be a source of safety and understanding he could turn to.

He remained silent, but you could see that your words were having an impact. His eyes, previously averted, briefly met yours, conveying a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. Then, he slowly shifted his position on the couch. He leaned closer to you, gradually lowering his head until it rested lightly on your leg. He was using your thigh as a makeshift pillow, a huge sign of the trust he was placing in you. It was an incredibly significant step forward in your relationship, a wordless acknowledgment of the connection between you.

You knew this was a big gesture, how much security he must feel for him to allow himself this closeness. Considering he never allowed himself to lay down around you, this was a big step in the right direction. As he settled, he pulled the blanket higher, adjusting it to cover himself more fully. He was positioned to lay on his uninjured flesh shoulder, seeking relief for the wounded one and to be covered by the blanket for some extra security, you knew he didn’t like feeling exposed.

Your hand, trembling slightly with the weight of the moment, slowly descended towards his damp hair. You were acutely aware of your own nervousness, not wanting to make any misstep that might shatter this fragile trust. This unexpected display of vulnerability had caught you by surprise, and you wanted to handle it carefully. Your fingers gently made contact with his hair, gently running through his chestnut locks in a soothing gesture. Your touch was light and tentative, massaging and lightly scratching at his scalp as he laid there.

Soldat permitted this rare moment of complete vulnerability. He was feeling particularly exposed and fragile, yet he felt secure enough in your presence to lay beside you. To lay on you. The comfort he found in your company was evident as you both settled in to watch television together.

The episode progressed, you noticed a gradual change in Soldat's subtle movements on your thigh. His breathing began to slow and deepen, becoming more rhythmic with each passing minute. Before long, the weight of his body pressed more heavily against you as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. You looked down to make sure you weren’t just imagining things.

Soldat felt safe enough in your presence to completely let his guard down and fall asleep.

It was a clear indication to the trust he placed in you, a rare and precious gift from someone who typically kept the world at arm's length upon severe conditioning. The simple act of Soldat falling asleep beside you spoke volumes about the growing bond you had, your chest warming and swelling with warmth as you observed his sleeping form.

You couldn't help the smile that spread on your face.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

I had a few people inquire about being tagged for my fics, if anyone is still be interested in being on a tag list, please let me know.

[gold-onthe-inside]

amelie, where'd you go?

who? spencer reid (s2) x medic!reader summary: after you save spencer from his overdose after the hankel kidnapping, he's haunted by the glimpse of you. content warnings: drugs, addiction, overdose, hankel word count: 1.5k a/n: inspired by 'amelie' and 'this is what the drugs are for' by gracie abrams.

Spencer's a scientist. He doesn’t believe in God, just the statistical possibility of one. But you defy his ability to reason. He doesn't remember much after his overdose, just your face, a face he's never seen before, a voice he's never heard.

He remembers a light, like a halo around you, your hair pulled back, your eyes worried, in a way that makes him want to reassure you that he's fine, even though his chest hurts and his feet sting. “We're gonna take good care of you, Spencer,” you say in his dream, and he wonders who ‘we’ is.

In his research on dreams, he knows it doesn't make sense that you aren't real; he doesn't remember seeing you before Hankel, so there was no reason for him to dream about you. It's not in his conscious memory either. Try as he might, he can't actively remember you, only when his subconscious decides to be merciful.

This sweet mercy is only afforded to him when he's in pain, when he craves the drug and the relief that comes with it, when he aches for the pleasant feeling that dulls everything else. Your voice comes to him then, “Stay with us, Spencer. Just a little longer.” He can stay a little longer. The vials go back in his satchel.

Gideon’s gone, leaving behind a letter to explain himself to Spencer, about not believing in happily ever afters anymore. Sarah was Gideon’s happily ever after, and what was his? A glimpse of a face from a blink of his eye, there, and then gone. He can see you, in his mind’s eye, but the memory’s fading around the edges. Spencer closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, facing the ceiling, trying to remember you. He half wonders if the drugs will help. If the association between you and the Dilaudid would trigger the memory again - it’s wishful thinking at best. At worst, it’s a new form of craving the high, one that’s more dangerous and tempting than the idea of avoiding pain.

They say he shouldn't try to remember the details of the traumatic event; that what he's experiencing is perfectly natural. Except... You're the only good part worth remembering.

And then it’s fall, the air brisker, the leaves crisper, turning rusty and burnt, and he’s entering a cafe near Quantico when he’s bumped into by someone bundled up in a coat and scarf. “Sorry,” you cried quickly, your hand going out to steady him. He almost doesn’t recognise you with your hair down, but there’s no mistaking those eyes.

“You…” is all he says, whispering in disbelief. You, who have haunted his nights, your voice soothing him to sleep, telling him to breathe when his chest feels tight, tells him to hold on a little longer when the needle feels like all there is.

Your brow furrowed, noticing him freeze as he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“Are you real?” he asked before he could think not to, and for a moment, it’s like you’re trying to recall something, reaching into his mind and trying to find a match. He can practically see the gears turning before your expression cleared and you looked at him, tilting your head.

“Pretty sure I am,” you answered and your brow creased with a confused smile.

“Who are you?” he asked quietly, and there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind now about whether he’d seen you before or not. You raised your coffee cup, so he could see your name etched in marker on the side. “Well, that answers my question,” he said, looking at you with wide, fascinated eyes. He didn’t want to sound crazy, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “I dreamt about you.”

He knows he’s screwed up the minute he says it, stammering to correct himself, but you beat him to it. “As far as pick-up lines go, that’s really bad,” you said, “but I appreciate your commitment to the bit.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, “I dreamt about you… after I was kidnapped. You, you told me to stay alive just a little longer.” He said it quietly, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he’d been abducted. You looked into his eyes and he shifted, trying to think of a joke or anything to lighten the mood, and then he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, that was definitely a bad start.”

Another customer walked in, the bell disrupting the two of you from your bubble, realising you were both standing in the middle of a cafe like idiots. “Can I buy you a coffee?” you asked, wanting more time, a proper conversation. You can’t leave him like this, not with how he looks like he hasn’t slept right in weeks.

“I’d like that,” he said with a nod, trying not to appear so eager or excited as he followed you to the counter, placing an order. He’s still quiet, wondering if he’s hallucinating again, a delayed effect of the Dilaudid, though it’s been weeks now. The barista calls his name to alert him it’s ready, and the two of you find seats near the back, near the window, the table small enough your legs touched as you sat down.

You study him, properly this time, trying to piece together who he was. Operational rescues were a standard of your life, rushed into the field armed with medical supplies, the closest thing to an army medic you could be without being in the army. “So, I saved your life?” you asked, your voice hesitant and tentative. You don’t want to imply that he’s forgettable - not with that jawline and those eyes and the swoop of his hair. There’s a beauty underneath his struggle, the unbuttoned sleeves of his pale yellow shirt revealing a slender wrist, spindly fingers wrapped around his cup of coffee.

“You don’t remember me,” Spencer said, trying not to sound disappointed but it didn’t quite work. “I suppose it makes sense. Heightened adrenaline and cortisol can make a unique situation memorable. Like after 9/11, people could remember exactly where they were when the towers were attacked. They, um, they call them flashbulb memories. But when you’re used to that kind of stress response, the emotions don’t make the event special, ergo… you don’t remember me.”

You swallowed, wishing there was more you could say other than apologising again, but it’s not like you forgot him on purpose. If you remembered every life you did and didn’t save, you’re not sure you could fall asleep at night. “It’s… easier,” you explained eventually, slowly. “To not remember, in general. You dwell too long on one life, it makes it harder to save the next.”

“Hard to do when you have an eidetic memory,” he said dryly, looking into his coffee cup.

“So you never forget things?” you asked, raising a brow and he looked at you.

“I remember seeing you for 20 seconds, and now you’re in my head. Forever.”

“Must be awful,” you say without thinking, rotating your coffee cup.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied. “I’d rather see you like that my whole life than be haunted by the rest of it.”

Your eyes flitted up to look at him, your frown easing. Is he… flirting? No, he’s too honest to be flirting.

“I-I only mean, um, that in comparison to-to everything else I saw that day,” he stammered, then sighed, relenting. “I’m sorry, I’m… I’m not good at this.”

“You hold onto the good things, and you hope it’s enough to outweigh the bad,” you said, offering a small smile. “If it gets you through the day, it gets you through the day. I won’t judge.” A moment of silence passes, his hazel eyes appreciating you as you continued. “It’s part of why I do it, anyway. Wanting to put more good in the world, fix the bad where I can.”

He’s frozen in that moment, staring at you, wishing he had something profound to say, something that would impress you the way you’ve stunned him. “You’re amazing,” is what comes out and you dip your head with a slight chuckle, and of course there’s a dimple in your cheek because you’re an angel, pure light, heaven-sent for him. “I-I mean,” he stammered, trying to get his words out, “if you hadn’t been there, all I would’ve remembered would’ve been darkness, but you… You gave me a reason to hold on.”

Colour rose to your cheeks, heat blooming along your face and your chest constricting. “You’re very welcome, Spencer,” you replied, more to your coffee than to him, and your watch beeped, reminding you that you had a job to get to. “I should get going,” you said, turning the alarm off and his expression turned desperate.

“Can I see you again?” he asked, so hopefully that all your training goes out the window as you scribble your number on a paper napkin. That said, there’s a pit in your stomach, warning you not to get involved with a patient. He just wants to see me again. It’s not a big deal.

Except, when you walked past the window on your way to work, seeing his adoring eyes follow you, and when your stomach flips… you know it is.

[f-imaginings]

Some Book of Bill musings about the theraprism below the cut.

Bill getting sectioned by the Axolotl (and time baby?) is wild to me.

What sort of therapy would be effective on an unwilling participant with such extreme issues with authority?

Do they enforce medication schedules, is there mandatory CBT or DBT sessions to make him feel bad about his decisions (and is guilt ever an effective method when dealing with someone with Bills issues) or do they do Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.

Can you use EMDR to process traumatic memories if the patient only has one eye (probably) or would they utilise tapping or electric pulses to trigger bilateral brain movement.

I know they do art therapy and have unhelpful patronising motivational posters on the wall, but who decides by what metric these "offenders" reach reform by?

And who decides their reincarnation fate, is there any oversight there to make these reincarnation decisions client led or is it just one more thing the offenders have to accept they have no control over. They are already dressed like prisoners and subjected to solitary confinement (which can be a passive form of torture in some cases).

Do they address the root traumas effectively given the owners of the theraprism seem to be all powerful (but not powerful enough to eradicate the systemic problems that cause the initial traumas) or do they victim blame and reinforce narcissistic injury through this process.

Are you cured when you stop fighting? When you give up and conform?

How is the theraprism a just solution and who controls it behind the scenes?

Are you free when you admit guilt (Bill already described himself as a monster) or when you take accountability?

Is accountability helpful at all when the Theraprism only seems to release patients to be completely reincarnated to a new form and life? How are you meant to make up for your failings in this life if you're just continually punished for it until you reach reincarnation stage and then continue to be punished in the next life (by only getting reincarnated as bugs or lower life forms if the butterfly is anything to go by). Everyone just trusts that the Axolotl is the good guy, same with Time Baby, but by what virtue are they in charge (when they seem just as mysterious, ambiguous and overpowered as Bill sometimes) and what have they done to prove they are worthy of this huge responsibility?

I have so many questions about the actual efficacy of the theraprism past a funny punchline for the Book of Bill.

[pomefioredove]

Heyyy! I love your writing so so much :) I was wondering if you could write headcanons for how vil and rook (plus any other characters you might wanna write for!) would react to yuu struggling with a panic disorder or just having panic attacks in general. i’ve been curious how the whole “transported to another world” thing would work with someone who takes meds. like i wonder if they would use magic to help with anxiety or plants? i’m not sure but I’m interested to hear your thoughts!🤍 p.s if you’re not comfortable writing about this, i more than understand! have a nice day :))

oh, of course!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader who has panic attacks

type of post: headcanons characters: vil, rook additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

while there may be no version of the medication you had at home, Vil is still willing to find you an equivalent

he has access to the best doctors and psychiatrists available, of course

and he'd rather you feel happy and safe than not

of course, it's your choice

and he's a creative man

that is, he has lots of options for you

it just depends on what you prefer. meditation, breathing exercises, he even has some teas with calming effects

he's prepared

...after all, Vil is not a paragon of mental health himself

and he's no stranger to panic attacks

he'll reassure you that it's nothing to be ashamed of, and he wants to help however he can

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook may have less resources, but he's no less determined

anything you need, you'll have it

he will find a way

he learns to recognize the earliest signs of an attack

and he's especially attentive in triggering places/situations/et cetera

he's adaptable, too, though!

always prepared to drop everything and get you somewhere safe

no matter where you are or what you're doing

he's quite serious about it, after all

when he loves, he loves strongly, and you and your safety are most important to him

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Hi! I loved your latest fic about yandere Moon boys and medical student reader. What if one night Marc or Steven gets home injured and reader patches him up? They look into each other's eyes, tension rising... 😏 and before we know it, reader ends up in a Stockholm syndrome situation 😌 (I'm a sucker for smut, I can't help it 😈)

Hi! Marc and Steven would be the only yanderes I would happily end up with Stockholm syndrome 😏

And now, I present to you with honor✋🙂‍↕️🤚

Patch up

Based on this one here [X]

Yandere Marc Spector & Steven Grant x fem!reader

Please heed the warnings!!👇

Warnings/Triggers: Blood, explicit, mention of captivity, p in v, smut, nsfw, sexual tension, reader gets Stockholm syndrome, minor blood play, detailed description of wound treatment, comfort, Marc is so dirty.

*Marc, you should have listened to me!*

Marc ignored Steven's voice, he was way too busy limping back home. He already had some makeshift treatment around the wound on the left side of his abdomen and some ripped cloth around his arm to atleast stop the bleeding. He was fighting a group of bad guys and he un-summoned his Moon Knight suit too fast, not realizing one of them was still alive, attacked him from behind, sliced Marc's arm and cut into the left side of his abdomen. Luckily before that guy could do more damage, Marc snatched his gun and shot him right in the head.

Now the only thing left to do, is get back and treat those wounds.

*You'll pass out before you even make it back, the hospital is closer.*

Marc passed a small mirror, taking a look at Steven's reflection while also looking at his current state. He looked like someone who fought with an animal.

"No, I'll manage getting back. We have everything necessary there."

*Alright. But let me take the body so you can rest a bit.* Steven demanded.

"Fine, have it your way."

Marc surrendered and Steven took over the body, making his way back home.

-

Steven arrived at his building, hastly getting into the elevator because the stairs would only take more energy. He rushed into his apartment, some blood already seeping through the makeshift first aid dropping onto the floor.

You were in your room, hearing the rushed noises outside. Curious, you headed out, seeing some blood drops on the floor leading into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Steven had already surrendered the body back to Marc because Steven knew Marc knows what he's doing and trusted him. Marc opened a cupboard, grabbing a bottle of pure vodka.

*Whoa, what are you- oh no, no, that's a bad idea.* Steven chimed in, already knowing what Marc is going to do.

"Wanna go to the hospital and get drugged?" Marc opened the bottle, grabbed a nearby towel and slapped it on the table. He removed the makeshift first aid around his abdomen and pulled his shirt up, the bleeding had almost stopped. He poured half of the pure vodka onto the towel before taking a long swig himself and poured the remains on the open wound.

"Fuck!" he hissed from the burning pain, slamming his fist on the table. He grabbed the vodka drowned towel and pressed it against the wound. The burning was still there but it slowly faded away.

"Oh. My. God."

Marc turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway with a shocked expression.

"Go-go back to sleep sweetheart, we got it from here." He tried reassuring you but you didn't go.

Steven and Marc had kidnapped you, and now seeing how injured they are, it could have been easy for you to just run or call the police on them. Is it a bad idea? Yes, probably.

"You look like you went through a meat grinder! How bad is it?"

"Not that bad." Marc lied.

"You're almost bled out, let me help you!" you insisted.

Marc didn't answer, instead he walked past you, into the bathroom and got a first aid kit before returning to the kitchen.

"Hey Marc! Please, just let me help." You almost pleaded with him.

*She's right, let her help you.* Steven chimed in.

Marc thought for a split second, before he finally sat down on the chair and turned his attention to you. "Alright you can help."

"Good, just pull your shirt up, no need to take it off, I don't wanna-"

Before you could even finish your sentance, Marc has already pulled his shirt off and threw it away.

You let out a small sigh, headed over to him, grabbed the needle and thread from the first aid and kneeled down infront of him.

You examined the wound, it was a quite deep cut, so stitches were in order.

"How bad is it?" He asked.

"It has to be stitched."

Marc nodded weakly, grabbing a piece of cloth from the first aid kit and put it into his mouth to bite down.

You looked up at him "I'm sorry in advance if I hurt you."

He gave a curt nod, giving you permission to start.

Slowly, you held the wound with your thumb and index finger, trying to push the sliced skin together as best as possible. The thin needle cut through the the skin, causing Marc to inhale sharply and grit his teeth against the cloth between his teeth.

"I know it hurts, but I have to do this in order to help you." you tried calming him down. You were so focused on your first stitch, not noticing Marc glancing down at you the whole time.

Some of his blood was already starting to stain your fingers, but you didn't mind, you just wanted to get the stitches done.

First stitch went well, only approximately five more stitches and it should be okay. For the next two stitches, Marc was silent and you thought he passed out. So you looked back up to check on him.

"Hey don't die. The bleeding has almost stopped."

He let out a small hiss. "It takes more than that to kill me."

You hummed, going for the next stitch. "Yeah I noticed."

Marc let out occasional small whimpers, but those weren't actually from him, they were from Steven because he let him front from time to time.

"How did you even manage to get those?" You asked, sticking your tongue out a bit to concentrate.

"Surprise attack." He simply answered, letting out another hiss at the needle penetrating his soft skin.

"Shit, sorry." you mumbled, looking back up to see if he's okay. Never once did he stop looking at you, then you catched his gaze with yours, he looked so done, you'd think he's about to pass out but there was something else in his brown eyes, something you couldn't describe. Maybe it's just from the blood loss? But damn, he looked so handsome.

"I-it's gonna be okay.." You tried tearing your gaze off from his, but your eyes flicked back to his before you could go back to doing stitches. You were blushing slightly, and you hoped he wouldn't notice.

But he noticed, he noticed every single thing on your features. "You're not used to stitch up others, hm?" he breathed out.

"What?" His answer caught you off guard and you accidentally tugged a bit on the needle while only the sharp tip was through his skin. Marc grunted at the sudden pain.

"I'm so sorry!" you apologized, quickly getting the stitch through.

"It's okay. How many stitches until it's good?"

"Two."

The last two stitched were done without a fuss. You got a bandage roll and some sterile pressure pads. You poured some disinfectant on the wound to avoid bacterial infection. Marc held the pads on his stitched up wound while you wrapped the bandages securely around him.

After he was done he sat back down on the chair.

"What's with your arm?" you pointed at it.

"Just a cut." he removed the ripped cloth, revealing the wound. Marc and Steven agreed that Marc would endure the big wound and Steven the cut on his arm so both of them could get some rest in between.

"But the arm won't need stitches, yeah?" It was Steven now.

"Nope. Only some disinfectant and maybe a bandage." You began poking with your finger around the cut to see if something important had been damaged. "Does anything there hurt?"

Steven let out a small whimper, "No only the cut burns. Why are you doing this?"

"To see if something important is damaged, maybe ask Marc if he knows about this."

*Yeah it's common, no need to panic Steven.*

"He said yes."

You nodded, grabbing the disinfectant, poured some on the wound, got a pad again and wrapped another bandage roll around it.

"Wow, thanks love. You could have made a perfect doctor." Steven said.

You glared back at him with narrowed eyes. "Get some sleep."

"Did I say something bad?" he replied nervously before standing up.

While Steven got to sleep, you cleaned the blood drops on the ground up and put the first aid kit away. You returned to the living area, seeing them slumbering on the bed. If you wanted it, you could sneak out, run and call the police. They're injured after all, they wouldn't make it far. But something inside you didn't want to get away, you grew... fond of them now. Very fond...

They didn't sleep long, maybe just a couple minutes before they woke up again. You were in the bathroom to clean the blood off your hands and tossed your bloodied clothes into the washing machine. Meanwhile Steven let Marc front again as he got himself some pain killers and a glass water.

You came out of the bathroom, assuming they'd still sleep but you saw them sitting on the bed with the glass. "Are you in pain?"

*She looks so beautiful like that. Hey, wanna repay her for fixing us up?* Steven asked in the headspace, making Marc's eyes roam over your body from head to toe and back.

Of course you didn't notice, Marc did it so subtle you couldn't see it. "Just some pain killers."

You made your way to the kitchen for a drink, your back was turned towards the door, so you didn't see them entering.

Clink!

The sudden clank of the empty glass on the counter next to you made you jump and look back, seeing Marc there with a smug expression and something else.

"You trying to give me a heart attack?" you gasped.

"No but we'd rather repay you, sweetheart." He stepped closer and before you knew it, he ducked, one arm went to the back of your knees and the other around your back, picking you up brydal style as he brought you back to the bed.

He was already rock hard when he dropped you off on the bed, standing between your legs. "Wanna know something?" he asked, already removing your panties.

"What?" you gasped, realizing what's gonna happen now. And to be honest, you weren't against it.

Marc pulled his throbbing cock out and positioned himself at your entrance. "You looked pretty good on your knees, honey."

In response, your cheeks got tainted in bright red, making him chuckle and he pushed his cock into you until he was fully inside, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

"Marc..." you moaned, starting to adjust to his size.

He moved in a slow pace at first, grabbing your hips while his eyes closed as he lost himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

You moaned uncontrolably, feeling your pussy staining his whole girth with your juices.

Something red on his side caught your attention, seeing a bit of blood on the bandage. "Marc?" you whimpered.

"Mmhhmm?" he opened his eyes again, looking down at you with his dark eyes as he fucked you.

"Your wound."

Marc looked down at the wound, shrugging it off. "It's nothing, concentrate on me fucking you as a reward."

He increased his thrusting, your moans got louder and eventually his breathing got heavier.

You noticed some blood running down his side, your eyes widened. With every hard thrust, as he got closer and closer to orgasm, it seemed like more blood ran down.

"Marc, your wound is bleeding!"

He moved his hand towards it, feeling the sticky red liquid on his hand before looking down. "It's just some blood, baby." his bloodied hand moved to your stomach, leaving some blood on your belly before it returned to grip your hip.

"What if it's open?"

Marc leaned down. "Shh, shh. Don't worry about the wound. Worry about me fucking this good little pussy." he increased is pace even more, moving in to kiss your neck as your eyes rolled back.

Marc groaned. "Honey, if I could, I would fuck you all day. You're so warm, so soft. So fucking wet."

You let out such a needy moan, it made him loose control, fucking you relentlessly. "Yeah you'd like that, hm?"

"Oh goddd..." your orgasm was close, he felt it too from how your pussy tightened around him.

"When you were doing the stitching, I had to seriously contain myself from pulling my cock out and fuck your cute face until your throat would be sore." Marc was so close to cumming, but he wanted to hold it back as long as possible.

You on the other hand couldn't take it anymore, your eyes fluttered close as your pussy clamped down like a vice around his cock.

"Oh fuckkk..." Marc groaned deeply, releasing himself inside you, painting your walls white with his cum.

He pulled out and laid down on the bed beside you, still panting.

You looked at him, calming down yourself. "What the hell was that?"

Marc chuckled softly. "Steven and I wanted to say thank you."

"It was a good thank you, very good." you grinned, scooting closer to him.

"So you don't hate us anymore?" he asked, reaching out to pull you against his side.

"No. I don't wanna leave anymore, I want to stay with you two." you laid your head on his chest.

"And what made you change your mind?" Marc gently ran his fingers through your soft hair.

"I don't know, it... just happened.."

"That's our good girl. Go to sleep, you've earned it." Marc wrapped his arms around you and gently kissed your hair, smirking because he knew they finally had you where they wanted and you'd never want to leave.

[reixtsu]

Lantern In The Shadows

Multi character x gn reader! Gender of reader is not specified.

Characters listed in the end!

Genre: Angst (comfort in the end)

Warnings: hints is self harm, mentions blood, darkness, self hate

He was the light within your darkness, a comforting lantern that stood upon your domain of blood. He was such a breath of fresh air, someone that you could tolerate in the cursed world you resided in.

However there was one thing that bothered you about him-out of all of the people he could have been with, why did he choose you?

In your opinion, you felt that there were plenty of better partners that he could have been with, and definitely have a healthier relationship with. You felt bad because it seemed like you were a burden to him, as you were always feeling down in the dumps.

Besides, you as the darkness did not want to dull the light that you loved so dearly.

The thought hurt so much, that 'he was making a sacrifice for the world by being with you'. You wanted him to be happy, to not deal with you since you were convinced you were a problem, something that should be wiped from this world. The aching in your chest only felt deeper day by day as you found yourself growing more and more distant from him.

Until one day, the medications were not seeming to work anymore. The emotions ran to its climax, and the feelings of negativity deep inside became shadows that blurred your vision.

The pain, it was too much to handle.

It was suffocating, as though you were drowning a cold sea of your own blood. You reached for the knife, hoping to dull out the agoney, only to be stopped.

"My love, what are you doing?" His voice was god-sent, a comforting tone that brought you back to your senses ever so slightly.

He looked at you with such softness, gently holding your wrist to prevent you from hurting yourself. 

Hot tears trickled down your face slowly, leaving traces of saltiness behind as you stared at the ground, ashamed to even look at his radiant gaze. "Don't look at me. I'm...so terrible."

His heart crumbled at your words, a wave of concern and protection washed over him as he took a step closer to you. "Don't say that. You're not terrible."

"But I am!" You cried out, tears falling nonstop as your throat felt dry from distress. "I don't deserve you. I'm such a terrible person, I made so many mistakes, and I never seem to do better!"

You coughed out the words that have been stabbing at your core every single day, but all you could see is blood everywhere, and your demons laughing at you, saying how much of a failure you were.

"I'm... a failure."

Warm arms wrapped around you and shielded you from the blood, demons, and darkness, suddenly making your cold, numb limbs feel lifelike again. Your lover kissed your forehead, a reminder that you were a treasure to worship.

"You are not a failure, or a terrible person," He whispered into your ear as he rubbed soothing shapes along your back. "You are such a great person with many great talents, values, and potencial. You might not see it yet, but everyone around you appreciates you. Take me as an example, I am so lucky to be with someone like you, who cares and takes care of me like no one else does. If you ever harm yourself, I will be devastated."

One sniff, then two sniffles. You tried your best to understand his words as he stared at you with love. You didn't really believe his words, but you knew that you could trust that he was being honest. The blood sea of darkness slowly seemed to fade away as the gentle light gave you a warm embrace.

In that moment, you knew you were loved, and you were worth his love.

    - KAVEH, kazuha, Tignari, Aether, lyney, THOMA, neuvillette, JING YUAN, Gepard, dan heng, SIGMA, Atsushi, Odasaku (BSD), your faves

Author’s note: This story is meant to be comforting, so I know that I may give some people triggers, it sure gave me a small trigger as I wrote this, but I want everyone to know that people are willing to help those in need, no matter the form.

[liliacamethyst]

So apologies if in advance this is in anyway triggering but I had an idea for a great angsty reveal and all I ask is to be heard out

It involves a miscarriage scare, not that it happens but the scare happens. Here’s the bare bones prompt:

During a mission Sun Spider (ie us) got really bad cramps and is of course terrified that she’s having a miscarriage. As soon as she’s able to she rushes to her place and sets up the ultrasound. (I was kinda thinking the reader were a doctor or nurse of sorts, or at least know another spider who is that would keep the secret.) She wanders the wand and begs that the baby is okay, finally breathing a sigh of relief when she hears the heartbeat and sees her tiny one. Unbeknownst to her Miguel had followed her….

Ahhh this is so angsty and good. Thank you so much Jesse! I thought it would be perfect to combine it with this comment by @fleeingdawn-blog1 :

"Imagine him being FURIOUS that you slept with someone else, the screaming and all the vitriol he would spit your way. Then the dawning horror when he slowly pieces it together and feels his world fall apart around him."

So, because you guys are amazing and have even more amazing ideas, here's another alternate reveal Drabble:

In the middle of an intense mission, you feel an agonizing pain in your lower abdomen. It's a sharp, cramping sensation that doubles you over and forcing you to stop in your tracks. You clutch your stomach, dread sinking in. No, it can't be... Please, no.

You have to leave. You have to get home.

Making some vague excuse to your fellow Spider-people, you swing off, all while trying to ignore the terror building up inside of you. ��Please, please let my baby be okay,” you whisper to no one in particular. You had never prayed so hard.

You're careful as you swing, each movement precise so as to avoid jostling too much. As soon as you reach your apartment you rush inside, immediately heading to the hidden medical room you've set up.

You're not a doctor, but you're resourceful. You had to be. You had to protect your baby.

Setting up the ultrasound, your hands tremble with anxiety. You take deep breaths, trying to stay calm for the sake of your unborn child. Picking up the device, you slowly move it across your belly, your eyes glued to the screen, your ears straining to hear that precious heartbeat.

And then you see it. The tiny flicker on the screen, the reassuring beat that echoes through the room. Your baby is alive. The relief washes over you like a wave, tears prickling your eyes. You breathe out a shaky laugh, one hand coming up to cover your mouth.

"You're okay... oh, thank god, you're okay," you whisper, tears streaming down your face. You continue to stare at the screen, memorizing every curve, every line of your tiny baby. You're so wrapped up in your relief and joy, you don't hear the door creak open.

Miguel, who had silently followed you, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He's staring at you, at the screen, at the clear image of your unborn child.

As Miguel’s gaze moves between the ultrasound screen and you, something inside him snaps. His face contorts, his nostrils flare, and his eyes flash with a fury you have never seen before, turning even more red than usual.

“What is this?! Who is he?!” Miguel’s voice fills the room as he points toward the screen.

“Miguel...” you start, but he cuts you off, his voice now a roar.

“WHO’S IS HE? DIME!” Miguel’s words are like knives, slashing through the air.

You’re cowering back, tears streaming down your face. “Mi... Miguel, please, just...”

“WHO ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH, HUH?” He's practically spitting the words at you, venom dripping from every syllable.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” he bellows. His eyes are wild, his rage all-consuming.

“I... I didn’t... you...” You’re stuttering, trying to get the words out, trying to tell him the truth, but his anger is like a tidal wave, overwhelming you.

And then just like that, in the midst of his rage something changes. His gaze flicks to the ultrasound screen again, and his face goes pale. The room is deathly silent except for your ragged breathing and the rhythmic beating of the baby's heart on the ultrasound monitor.

He blinks. Once. Twice. His voice drops to a whisper. “How... how far along...?”

“Three months,” you manage to whisper back, choking on your tears.

His brain races, the timeline whirring in his head. Realization dawns on him like a cold sunrise.

“Is it...?” His voice is barely audible, a ghost of its former fury.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “Yes, Miguel. It’s yours.”

[yanderes-galore]

I don't if you are this far in One Piece but. Platonic Yandere! Zoro from One Piece with weak darling that cannot fight at all?

I feel for this one how far I'm in doesn't matter. So here you go :)

Yandere! Platonic! Zoro with Weak! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Stalking, Forced companionship.

Zoro is a very stern, serious, and distant swordsman.

He isn't very emotive and tries not to let emotions control his judgment.

Despite this, he is still quite temperamental, reckless, and ruthless in battle.

He may try to hide it, but Zoro is protective of his crewmates.

Honestly, when thinking about it, Zoro would be terrifying due to what he's willing to go through for his fellow crew.

Now, the Straw Hat Pirates usually have strong members who can hold their own in physical strength.

However, while you weren't brought on the crew for physical strength... you have a strong mind.

You don't participate in fights, yet were brought on to help the ones who can.

You have medical knowledge and often offer input on plans.

So while you can't fight...

You're still quite the asset.

Unfortunately, being unable to fend for yourself often means relying on crewmates.

In this case, Zoro often ends up taking the role of your protector.

I like to think of Zoro as a subtle yandere.

He's often quiet and hard to read, not showing his true emotions often... unless it's anger.

Your interactions with Zoro are positive, the swordsman finds your company nice.

Considering what you do for the group... he protects you like any other member.

If not more.

A platonic Zoro would normally be quite protective.

Yet due to you being weaker than the others? He finds himself... more attached.

He worries about enemies... yet he also worries for Luffy's tendency to pull others into problems and Sanji's tendency to cling.

Unlike other crew members, he gives you your distance.

But distance doesn't mean he's not obsessed.

He is, He just values your personal space.

You're always in his sight, though...

Even if you don't know it.

He's definitely someone in the background most of the time

He's subtle... yet so dangerous.

He takes your safety very seriously.

How could he not? Most pirates would crush you.

Admittedly he's also quite attached to the smile you give him when he talks to you.

That and even your scolding when you patch him up is endearing.

Zoro is so used to being around the strong that he's unsettled by your weakness at times.

He's worried one day other pirates or the marines will hurt you to hurt him.

But... that won't happen.

No, Zoro vows to prevent that.

He's cut many down before.

Any threat that comes to hurt you will also fall by his hands.

Zoro's used to blood being on his skin when fighting.

It just feel more... relieving if he knows he did it for you?

Cutting a foe down... being covered in their blood... he does it for you.

The faster they die, the longer you stay safe.

You scold him about the blood, but you don't know the real reason behind it.

He doesn't show much emotion on his face... leaving you clueless to what he's thinking.

He tries to remind himself to be wary of his emotions.

His thoughts on you are affecting him.

Yet he continues on, still sent into a rage at the thought of you being hurt.

While he usually stays quiet on the boat and out of the way, he ends up stepping in occasionally.

He shuts down Sanji's flirting with a glare and rough shove.

He hovers around you when Luffy or Usopp try to drag you into shenanigans....

Zoro just assigns himself as your bodyguard and friend, no one has much of a say in that.

It's a role he took himself due to your mutual care.

Others can not convince him otherwise.

The most unnerving thing about him is the distant stares he gives.

He will silently watch you, yet his gaze quickly becomes seething if he feels you're threatened in some way.

Which, to him, that could mean anything.

It's intimidating for those speaking with you.

You could be in deep conversation, only for said conversation partner to look away...

Only to be met with a glaring swordsman in the distance.

One wrong move and he could gut them.

Despite Zoro being one of the more dangerous yanderes... he's controlled if not pushed.

Would he be affectionate with you? In private, yes.

You are a dear friend to him....

He feels comfortable when you're close to him.

He gives quick casual hugs, yet loves feeling you be there against him.

It reassures him you're safe, he's protecting you, he's doing his job well.

Zoro would take on the strongest foes if it meant he could be a barrier to prevent you from harm.

Some other downsides could be him being too stern or condescending.

Sometimes he gets so caught up in protecting you he makes you feel like a child because you can't fight.

Zoro would open old scars if it meant the blood he spilled would keep you out of harm's way.

Of course... there will always be hardship and danger as a pirate.

Which means... Zoro won't be leaving your side anytime soon... if ever.

He's not clingy like most of the crew, but he lurks.

Zoro would sacrifice anything to protect you.

After all, who will fight for you if you can't?

[cowboywithacunt]

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CONTENT WARNING ;

This blog is an 18+ only kink/nsfw blog. I'm going to be posting explicit text and images. Please be aware that some of my kinks may be triggering to others! A full list of my kinks and limits are under the cut.

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RULES BYF ;

🐄 DNI: Men DNI blogs, detrans/misgendering/trans fetishization blogs run by cis people, cishet men, weight loss/thinspo blogs, feederism blogs, MAPs, minors and ageless blogs

🐎 My asks and dms are open to anyone! Please respect my boundaries, and don't send me stuff that involves kinks I list as a limit. Also be aware that I might not always respond! Sometimes I just ain't got the energy, don't know what to say, am offline, or just aren't interested at the moment. I'm fine with sexting, pics, and roleplaying. Do not message me several more times if I don't respond to your first message.

🐄 I block liberally! It's nothing personal, just how I curate my experience. Please don't circumvent blocks for any reason.

🐎 Feel free to claim an emoji, but I will remove you from the claimed emojis list if you don't send anything for a long while. It's nothing personal, just a way of keeping organized! If you start sending asks again I'll put you right back on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

INFO ABOUT ME ;

🐎 I'm Harvey! 22, transgender (FtM), he/him, bisexual, country boy who's learned to embrace it as a thing people are into lol. Currently living on the west coast, originally from Georgia. I'm fat and hairy and masc, take it or leave it. 5'5". Deer boy tbh 🦌

🐄 I'm strictly masc, have been on T for about 4 years, and I got top surgery done last summer. I don't have bottom surgery, and probably never will.

🐎 I'm happy to be a dom or sub for any and all genders! I enjoy both roles equally. Same goes for topping and bottoming. I'm about as versatile as a guy can get!

🐄 Asks and dms are open to anyone who's interested!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KINKS, FETISHES, ETC ;

🐎 CNC; includes rape play, dubcon, somnophilia, intoxication, primal play, and kidnapping.

🐄 Fauxcest; may include some ageplay elements, such as MILFs/DILFs, cougars, etc.

🐎 Humiliation and degradation; includes exhibitionism, voyeurism, pet play, free use, force fem/masc, misgendering, and detrans.

🐄 Monster fucking; werewolves, vampires, tentacles, you get the picture. May include non-human genitalia references.

🐎 BDSM; mostly pertains to bondage, but some light impact play might also be present. Nothing beyond spanking or slapping!

🐄 Overstimulation and understimulation; too many orgasms and not enough orgasms. Edging included in this.

🐎 Breeding; including impregnation of others, not of myself.

🐄 Misc; wilderness sex, cowboys/rednecks, putting city assholes in their place, T4T, bears, butches, sex toys, fighting for dominance, light gun/knife play, medical settings, older men/women, trans supremacy, furries, leather. Open to trying new things!

🐎 I do not tag any of these on reblogs! If you genuinely cannot stomach one or more of these things, just do your mental health a favor and don't follow me. Keep yourself safe!

🐄 Please keep in mind that all fantasies I post about are in the context of consensual roleplay between adults.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LIMITS ;

🐎 Heavy blood, gore, death, necrophilia.

🐄 Scat, watersports, emetophilia. Very light omorashi stuff is fine.

🐄 Choking, beating.

🐎 Detrans/misgendering directed at me.

🐎 DDLG and similar kinks that focus on infantalization.

🐄 Race play; if someone wants to call me a stupid little white boy or something, that's fine, but anything even edging towards white supremacy isn't cool with me

🐎 It's okay if you're into the above things! I won't yuck somebody's yum. You can follow and interact. Just please don't send me asks or dms involving those kinks, and be aware that I may not follow back if you post a lot of one of these.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TERMINOLOGY FOR ME I'M OKAY WITH ;

🐎 Sir, mister, bitch, faggot, whore, slut, masc terms, sweetheart, darling, buck

🐄 Dick, cock, t-dick, clit, cunt, pussy, chest, hole(s)

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TERMINOLOGY FOR ME I'M NOT OKAY WITH ;

🐎 Daddy, puppy, fem terms

🐄 Tits, boobs, vagina, front hole

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If you're not sure about something, just ask! I don't bite!

[jjcre8]

✩˚｡⋆ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍: 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.

below is a list of dialogue said by various characters , including villains , guards & doctors , & The Batman himself. this dialogue was gathered from the game wiki page , & compiled into a list for easy access & use. feel free to change names & pronouns as needed. do not add to the list , & always reblog from the source.

TW DISCLAIMER. this meme may contain potentially triggering content , pertaining to care of patients in the batman franchise.

" How did he get out? I mean, you're here and... "

" Some loyalty! Do you need any help? "

" You and your men are safer here. I'll find you if I need anything. "

" I saw the alert, what's wrong? Where are you? "

" I don't get it. This place is supposed to be secure. "

" Unfortunately, some of the patients will always try and escape. I'll stop them. "

" Thanks for the concern, officer, but it will take more than guns to stop me. "

" I'll take care of this. "

" Thanks. Let me know if you need backup. "

" Exactly. He's left me a trail to follow. He's alive. "

" You wait here. I'll be back. "

" You heard the lady. We've got another psycho on the way. "

" Keep your weapons trained on it at all times. "

" It's my favourite show. I'm Warden Idiot, You'll Never Escape'. "

" Just gotta check your prisoner. "

" You have to listen to me! It's a mistake. I didn't do it! "

" I've waited a long time for this, Bats. Let's start the party. With a BANG. "

" I think you need a little more...! Tell me, what demons do you have left to beat? Shall we see? "

" This isn't a simple escape attempt. Joker's been planning this. "

" Please help me! "

" You're going to be fine. Stay here. "

" Batman's here! Just hold on a little longer! "

" I want all the doctors rounded up. Search every inch of the Medical building. I mean it. "

" La la la la lu lu lu la! Hey! Scram, Bats! This is my me time. "

" Shut it and get down there with the others. MOVE IT!! "

" Batman's as good as dead. "

" The medical building is ours. No one's takin' it from us. "

" I can't wait to get outta here. This hospital scares the crap out of me. "

" Man, I hate the smell of hospitals. "

" Ain't hospitals supposed to be clean? This place stinks. "

" The room's clear. You're safe now. "

" Did they have anyone with them? "

" They took someone into the elevator, I couldn't tell who it was. "

" We'll be fine. "

" What about the others? We heard gunfire. They could be dead. "

" Batman, we've got another problem. "

" Why are you doing this? I have done exactly as you've asked "

" Look at me, you think I care? Stop your whining and listen good. "

" Keep quiet. I'm not sure how much more of your yapping I can take. "

" Bad publicity will effect his campaign for Mayor. "

" Don't speak. You're safe now. "

" What are you waiting for?! April Fools' day?! Get down there! "

" HE'S HERE! "

" Yeah. Big Bad Batman. C'mon, tough guy, come and get us. "

" Oh. Look at him, stuck out there. Ain't ya got a cat to rescue from a tree or something? "

" Yeah, that's right. Go on. Get lost. We're in control. "

" Is he dead? "

" I think so. "

" You may wanna do a quick head count. "

" BABOOM! Another one bites the dust. "

" Batman's as good as dead. "

" Yeah. Give us orders and then sit in your nice safe room while we fight Batman. Nice... "

" Batman? Can you hear me? Show yourself! "

" Oh, I'd like to thank my fans for their undying support, and the people of Gotham, who I will be seeing very soon. "

" I salute my fallen enemy. "

" Oh. Isn't that cute. Little Bat's a-sleepin'. Someone finsh him off. "

" That loser didn't stand a chance. I mean, look at me. "

" Gotta say. I thought you'd last longer. "

" Loser, Loser, Loser! "

" Bye bye, Bats! "

" Once again I have defeated you, Batman! "

" I will enjoy feasting on your bones. "

" Tick, tock. Feed the Croc. "

" And at the end of fear, oblivion. "

" Now madness takes you, forever. "

" You're dead and buried, darling. "

" Sorry, love, you're plucked. "

[teddy06writes]

Ghost of His Lips

Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Prompt: "Why is it whenever we see each other, you're covered in blood?"

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, blood/bleeding, Tommy in his natural state (beaten and bloody), Reader was a nurse during the war.

Summary: As the Peaky Blinders push further and further into Billy Kimber's territory it becomes a fairly common occurrence to find a certain gangster on your front step, asking for some favor or another. You and Tommy have an unconventional relationship, to say the least.

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Somehow, before you had even laid down for bed, you knew that it was going to be a sleepless night. It was almost as if you could feel whatever odd tension was filling the air, like you could sense that somewhere, a storm was brewing.

For hours, you lay in bed, restless, until finally you threw off the covers, certain that if you just had a cup of the right herbal tea, you'd finally be able to drift off.

Pulling your robe around yourself with a huff, you shuffled off toward the kitchen. Kettle securely heating up on the stove, you puttered around, searching for the tea Polly had gifted you after helping her with some errand or another that she swore helped with insomnia.

You were making a valiant effort of not checking the clock, to see just how late of a night it was, when there was a sure sounding knock at the door to your flat. You froze, waiting for a long moment before the knock sounded again, insistent.

There were only a few people who would dare knock at your door so late. Keeping the chain in place, you opened the door a crack, peering out into the darkness, "Christ, Tommy."

Thomas Shelby stood on your front stoop, leaning, almost casually against the door frame, a lit cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. "Ms. (l/n)."

"What the hell are you doing here so late?"

He took a drag of his cig, almost pondering how much he could tell you, before "Got into a bit of a scrape over in Digbeth. Can I come in?"

You eyed him wearily, before moving to unlock the door fully and let him in, "Put that damn thing out."

Tommy did as he was told, stubbing out the cigarette, and following you dutifly into your flat, just as the kettle began to sing.

"Tea, Tommy?"

In the light, you could see the bruises already beginning to flower around his eye, and as he moved toward the counter, you found yourself taking stock of the almost imperceptible changes in his stride, of the damage that might have been done.

"Do you have anything stronger?"

With a sigh, you were easily dragging down a bottle of whiskey and pouring him a generous three fingers, "Are you going to take off your coat and stay awhile, or is this just a quick in and out sort of night?"

"I wager you might not like it if I did." All the same, he began shrugging out of his overcoat, revealing the torn and bloody clothes beneath.

Yet again, you couldn't help but sigh, "Why is it whenever we see each other, you're covered in blood?"

As he reached for his glass, Tommy let out a huff that sounded suspiciously amused, "Believe me, if I could avoid it I would."

You rolled your eyes good naturedly, already rolling up the sleeves of your robe, "I suppose then the better question is whether it is your blood, or someone else's."

"Mine, mostly, I'm afraid."

Reaching for your medical kit, you let out a wince, "Of course it is."

You worked quietly and efficiently, something that Tommy appreciated more than he could ever put into words. There was something calming about the way that you didn't balk at any of the injuries he had presented to you, as if nothing could surprise or shock you now.

A part of him felt guilty for appearing on your doorstep at all hours, disrupting whatever peace you had made for yourself, and yet he couldn't help but return. He would never admit it, but there was no one in the whole of the city who he would rather see him at moments like this.

Watching at you methodically pressed a pad of bandages to his side, hiding the neat line of stitches that hide beneath, Tommy couldn't help but let his mind drift.

What would it have been like, if you hadn't been stationed on that hospital ship during the war? If he'd been brought before you, freshly dragged from the dirt and the mud that had threatened to suffocate him? If your paths had crossed just once?

"You're not there anymore, soldier."

Your firm, kind voice pulled him from his thoughts and he found you leaning close, two fingers tucked into the pulse point just below his jaw, where his heart suddenly hammered.

Gently, he grasped at your wrist, and miraculously, the fingers at his neck turned into a hand cupping his cheek. He could see the distance hiding behind your own eyes, the rigidity in your posture.

"Neither are you."

For a long moment, you were both frozen there, lost in the gentleness that neither of you had known in so long. Almost experimentally, you brushed a thumb across his cheek, wiping away some invisible tear.

He leaned into the touch, eyes half lidded as he turned, lips brushing against the heel of your hand. Not quite a kiss, but something so close, so strangely intimate that in that moment you couldn't be sure it wasn't a mere dream.

Tommy looked up at you, at the unreadable expression on your face, and then allowed his gaze to drop to your lips, if only for a moment. For a split second, you could've sworn there was gravity building between you, pulling you closer to him.

And then the spell broke, and Tommy was pulling away, knocking back the remains of his whiskey, and standing, clearing his throat, "Well, I should be going. Thank you, for your hospitality."

You muttered something in response, and then he was gone, disappearing back into the night; leaving you standing in your kitchen, the ghost of his lips still whispering across your palm.

~~

Enjoy this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

[autumnheartsprice]

"You're my issue!"

price x gn!reader

<mentions of gun going off, bullet wound, crying, kinda angsty? slow burn if you squint? happy romantic ending, no smut>

"God damnit, you fucking muppet! The 'ell were you thinking?!" he mutters, carrying you against his chest as he rushes back to the helicopter, a hand pushing against the bullet wound in your abdomen. He looks down for a brief second and sees your half-closed eyes as you whine in pain as he presses your wound more in attempt to stop the bleeding; "You stay awake, you idiot, don't you care close those fucking eyes!"

The whole way back to the base was hell for the poor medics, Price's yelling only a distraction to the point he had to be separated. Gaz sat with him in the back to keep an eye on him, not wanting his Captain to do anything reckless.

"You put a bullet through me and you'll have one on your back until the moment my team kills you, Graves." Price says, as he holds his hands up in the air, weapons being stripped away from him. You stand next to Price, in the same exact position as him. A knife hidden in your boot is your only resort but his gun pointed at Price would kill you before you even had a chance to reach for it.

The two men bicker at each other, throwing insults and threats in the air as Price stalls, waiting for the rest of the team to get to their location in the building to take him down and rescue you two from the unhelpful situation.

Gunshots go off in the building, appearing closer as the team makes their way through to you, the mistake of arriving quietly ending with a consequence. "Tsk tsk. I told you just a little meeting with just the three of us, seems like you can't follow instructions, Captain."

"Actions have consequences. Thought you'd know this by now." Graves says. Your eyes focus on his finger moving to pull the trigger and you quickly step in front of your Captain before the gun could go off and the bullet hits Price.

You fall to the ground, hand rushing to feel the site as blood doesn't hesitate to gush out. Your ears ring, almost missing the gunshots that go off towards Graves but you're too distracted to look over. Tears gloss over your eyes as you see someone's figure kneeling down in front of you and yelling going on.

Price sits at your side, refusing to take shifts with everybody else because he wanted to be the only one with you. The medics said it shouldn't take long for you to wake up; the sudden shock and blood loss wasn't a shock to cause you to pass out for a while.

He doesn't change out of his clothes or even take off his vest, not wanting to take his eyes off you or leave you alone for a second. He only washed the blood and grime off his hands once they arrived back to base because he knows how much you hate dirty hands.

It takes about 48 minutes and 32 seconds, to be exact, to wake back up. Price continuously looked back between you and the clock to make sure you weren't out for a concerning amount of time.

Your eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times as the bright florescent lights welcomed you. Your hand moves to cover your eyes and shield them from the assaulting brightness, only causing you to whine in pain as the movement makes the wound stretch out a little.

Price's eyes immediately snap towards you from the clock as he hears you waking up and whining in pain. He quickly moves his chair even closer to your bed to try to help you. "Easy, hon. Don't want to go hurting yourself even more." He mumbles, the tone in his voice was a mixture of emotions. Fear, anger, sadness, guilt.

You groan in annoyance, not a big fan of the growing pain in your abdomen. "Don't wanna fuckin' hear it. Don't act like such a reckless idiot next time and you won't be in this sort of pain." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, unsure of what happened as your memory was still coming back to you.

After he calls in the nurses to come check on you now that you're awake, he sits in silence and just stares at you and your blurry tear-filled eyes as you start to take in everything and remember, his harsh words not helping in the slightest.

After the nurses leave and it's just the two of you again, he moves to sit on the side of your bed, making sure to sit on your unhurt side to avoid the pain that'll come from the large dip in the bed. You wanted him to ignore the tear that rolled down your cheek, but he didn't fail to miss it. His hand comes up to gently tuck your dirtied hair behind your ear with a deep sigh. "Let it out, sweet girl. It's okay, nobody's mad or disappointed with you. It's no good keeping in all these emotions, hm?" he whispers. He leans closer to let your head rest against his chest as sobs start to escape from you. Harsh and scared sobs rack through your body as tears start to stain his shirt. "There ye go, good girl. Let those emotions out."

He continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he lets your emotions run free. It takes a little bit to get you to calm down again but he doesn't mind; it's not his first rodeo to calm you.

Once your breathing is more stable and just occasional shaky breaths and sniffles, he leans back to look at your face. Red and puffy. He takes your chin into his hand and forces you to look up at him despite you trying to avoid it.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again. Ain't no man on this Earth that's good enough for you to risk your life for." he pauses, trying to think of what to say next. "Do y'know how fuckin' scared I was? Holding your unconscious body, not knowing if you were about to die in my arms or not? Did you even think about how stupid it would be to jump in front of a bullet?!" He finishes, voice slightly raising by the last sentence. Your hand moves towards his to force it away from your chin, forcing it to rest in his lap.

Tears start to brim your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall this time. Your head falls back onto the pillow behind it as you stare at the empty space in front of you. "What? All of a sudden you can't handle the consequence of being so stupid out there? Should 'ave you written up for this." He mutters out.

"Really? Go ahead and write me up then, tell 'em to switch me to a different team once they read it since my efforts can't be appreciated around here." He tries to interrupt you to talk, "No. You had your chance to speak. Not even one "Thank you"? You know damn well that shit happens out there that you didn't expect beforehand, you know soldiers end up getting shot all the time. Thought as Captain, you'd know this by now, but obviously not."

He scoffs after you finish and steps closer, looming over you from the side of the bed. "You're not transferring. You're not leaving me." It was your turn to scoff now, irritated by his words. "Really? That's the only part you heard? What the fuck is your issue? Huh? Old age making you lose your hearing?" He rests a knee onto the side of the bed, and grabs your face. "Really? What's my 'issue'? You're my god damn issue! Can't you see that I can't bear you leaving me and being out of my life?"

He stares at your pupil-blown eyes as you try to register what he just said. "You stupid idiot." he mutters under his breath before leaning closer, his lips ghosting above yours. You seal the kiss; you pull him as close as possible without hurting yourself even more and tangle your fingers into his beard.

The kiss feels like it lasts an eternity, a good kind of eternity. Your tongues slip into each other's mouth, exploring the newfound closeness before he pulls away - almost causing a whine to escape your lips but his face stays close to yours. "You're my issue." he repeats. "A good kind of issue?" you ask, silently enjoying the way each other's breath fans against the other's. "Enough to make me gonna start graying soon, how about that?" he teases; you playfully pretend to inspect his beard before replying, "I think I already see a few gray hairs, Cap." You giggle as he leans in again to press kisses against your face.

"Fuck, I love you, idiot."

[the-teufort-nine]

Can you do the mercs with an autistic scientist wife, who loves books, music and butt pats please? (Preferably spy, medic, Engie, scout and sniper please!!) thank you!!! Have a good day!!!

this you? XD ahaha im sure you loved that this took me forever to answer😬

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Mercs x Autistic/Scientist/Wife!Reader: Books, Beats, and Butt Pats ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring: Spy, Engineer, Scout, Medic, and Sniper

Spy:

You got this man to settle down and marry you?! Good lord, you must be magic.

Big sugar daddy energy from Spy ngl. Expect to be treated to lavish gifts from him often. Deep in the grips of a new hyperfixation? Prepare to be gifted something related to it every week or so.

Loves how smart and driven you are. After years of working with moronic lunatics and madmen, you are a welcome change.

Will go out of his way to get you hard to find records and books if you are mad at him.

You can try and get him to quit smoking, but unless its a huge trigger for you, he probably won't, even if you show him what his lungs probably look like.

Probably won't pat your ass, since he's a

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Gentleman. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

But he might give it a squeeze if you two are in the mood ;)

Engineer:

ASS MAN ASS MAN A S S M A N

You're this man's wife? Butt pats ahoy! No, seriously, you're getting your rump lightly smacked on the daily.

Really enjoys having a partner that is near or on the same intellectual level as him. He would still love you if you weren't, but its really nice to have someone aside from Medic that he can talk shop with.

I hope you like country music, because Engie built every single music playing device in the house, which pretty much gives him complete control over the music choice when he's home.

Let's be honest here; this man is probably also autistic.

Your interests may not be the same, but you two like to be together when you're engaging with them. The parallel play goes crazy.

You two definitely have matching reclining chairs in your living room that you read your books in. Comfortable silence your beloved <3

Scout:

God, please stick around. This man needs someone in his who isn't a deadbeat good lord-

He will happily listen to you talk about your interests any day, even your science related ones, but do not expect him to understand anything above, like, a seventh grade level.

ADHD 🤝Autism power couple

Butt pats? Hell yeah! Grass grows, birds fly, and brotha? He's smacking your ass like a set of bongos.

Household music is an equal mix of your interests and his. Expect to hear Tom Jones in the mornings; he likes to play his records while he makes breakfast.

Can't read nearly as well as you, but he really likes listening to you read.

Medic:

Like Engineer, this man appreciates a wife with a good head on her shoulders and a t h i c c ass.

Will give you butt pats, but be warned! There is a 50/50 chance his hands are covered in blood.

Probably also on the spectrum.

He probably introduces you to German music and literature, and will happily teach you the language if you ask!

Need some less-than-legal supplies for a project or experiment? Don't even worry, queen, your man will provide. <3

You are definitely going to live longer than most humans. Even if an accident takes you out, Medic surgically grafted your soul to his a long time ago, so not even death will do you part!

I think you two would dance to your shared records together pretty often.

Sniper:

Butt pats? Nah, butt bites.

FREAK behaviour with this man. He is a wild bushman who lives in a van and who's most developmentally impactful social interactions came from insane, bloodthirsty mercenaries who were not even close to being normal. How did you get him to propose.

A good listener though! He remembers the little things that you mention, and will often surprise you with something related to an interest of yours, even if you only mentioned it once.

Not a huge music fan, but he lets you have total control over his van's radio. You are the only one who gets this privillage.

Asks you to preserve small animals for him sometimes. He likes to keep them as decorations.

Please invent something to counteract those Mann Co. kidney enlarging pills. Please.

Loves reading with you! This man enjoys silence, and he actually really enjoys a good book or two when he had downtime.