#referenced past torture tw

[aftgficrec]

hi I'm so excited I caught you guys open :D

I was wondering if you guys could find some fics where Neil brings up his past in casual conversation or his past gets brought up because of something he said or did

Also I've read a lot of the older soulmate fics where they can feel each other's pain or communicate telepathically and stuff like that but was wondering if there are any new ones :)

Ty u so much <333

There is so much material here I decided to split it into 2 parts, one with fics about Neil’s past, and one devoted to soulmate aus.  Enjoy! - S

references to Neil’s past:

people Neil met on the run here

Foxes learn about Neil's past here

The Foxes react to Neil’s life here

The Foxes react to Neil’s scars here

The Foxes react to Mary’s abuse here

videos of neil on the run here

Neil’s secrets unravel here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil shows off his knife skills here

‘The Bet’ here 

‘here I am, there you go again’ here

‘I'm not broken (I'm made for a mosaic)’ and ‘More Afterthoughts, Chapter 39’ here

‘arrivals/departures’ here 

‘TFC minifics...’ Ch 23 here

‘heavy hands, heavy hearts’ here

‘"I've endured far worse"’ here

‘it whistles through the ghosts still left behind’ here

you may also like:

Neil with languages/accents here

Neil with languages/accents 2 here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

Neil also shows off his knife and language skills in ‘I Hope You Lie To Me’ here (ch. 9)

Neil’s past:

Andrew, I'm fine by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 2081 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew passes through the door into the ensuite bathroom, and he freezes an instant before he understands why. The bathroom tile is smudged red, just so. Someone bled here, and then wiped it, too quickly. Andrew wants to call for Neil, but he is suddenly unsure if he is alone in his apartment.

tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: knives, tw: violence

Killer Bunny by godless_writer [Rated T, 6661 words, complete, 2023]

Neil started his second year in college thinking his past was behind him. His father was dead, Riko was dead, he was no longer running – nothing left to hide from. At least that is what he thought before six FBI agents barged into his team’s practice one day. Or The team finds out Neil had to kill some of his father’s men while on the run.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Bound for Error by confusedtoadd [Rated M, 22759 words, incomplete, last updated July 2023]

“You claim you’ve left your truth bare, yet you still lie, interesting don’t you think Nathaniel?” Neil was paralyzed, stuck between begging for her to stop and strangling her. They were a mix of his parents' wishes, his father's anger was bubbling over, his mother's survival instincts charged his legs with vigor. “Perhaps I should have stepped in sooner. No matter, they will know the truth soon, you did promise no more running, Nathaniel.” OR The foxes react to Neils life, pre-canon included.

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm,  tw: violence, tw: blood & gore, tw: torture, tw: abuse, tw: psychological abuse, tw: panic attacks

Secrets by The_stars_ship_us [Rated T, 1265  words, complete, 2023]

Matt sees Neil's scars for the first time and Neil wakes up, still sleepy, and feels comfortable and safe enough to speak in his true accent

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: scars

The Best That You Can Hope For (is to die in your sleep) by Major_816 [Not Rated, 10840 words, complete, 2022]

The first time O’Malley saw the kid was in a low-level underground gambling ring, walls crawling with asbestos and next to every bastard inside armed with something sharp if not something packed with warped metal and gunpowder.  He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but he surveyed the crowd of the room with years more experience than he should have. There were scars cutting across exposed bits of skin, sick looking in the light of the place and stretching hotel-bible-page-thin over crooked bones.  He was a wispy thing. Nothing more than a scrap of a boy stitched together. O’Malley was half-convinced a strong wind might blow him over, but the kid turned, those quick and clever eyes burning across the room and O’Malley could recognize that sort of fight instinct.  He saw him again half a year later in Northern Florida.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: scars, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation

Broken bones by All_for_the_andreil [Rated T, 1126 words, complete, 2021]

Neil gets injured during a game and freaks out. Andrew finds out what exactly happened to Neil in Baltimore.

tw: implied/referenced torture

I guess I can drop the accent now by poly_pr1nce [Rated M (we say T), 495 words, complete, 2020, locked]

Neil reveals the final thing he's been hiding about himself after the Foxes win against the Ravens and Riko's death

...'ah yes, my shirt will cover this'  by @jingerhead [tumblr, 2021]

This prompt is great, I've read some angsty fics about Neil getting hurt and they're great BUT I love the idea of Neil getting stabbed and he's just like.....'ah yes, my shirt will cover this' and everyone notices right away. I think something super angst or something more lighthearted would be equally great haha!

tw: injuries

Art

what’s life on the run like? art by @meaucrow

Thinking about all he went through trying to survive art by @microolli

[bleedingintogold]

Leader should be grateful. Without her, his team would have not been able to rescue him. Maybe they would have eventually, but they would have only brought back a body.

He should be grateful that she was actively and willingly participating in taking care of him, helping Medic redress his wounds and reminding Youngest that Leader still couldn't eat full meals yet, despite not having a personal relationship with him like the others. There were even times where he realized it was her holding him when he screamed himself awake in the night from dreams that he could never tell were not real. She would pet his hair and stroke his back until he exhausted himself back to sleep.

He hates himself for hating her when he watches how easily she gets along with his team. Leader sees her playing video games with his co-captain, or assisting Engineer with her newest tech. Even Oldest had taken to her, ruffling her hair as he used to his. He was gone for almost a year and she had so easily managed to fill the space he left behind in his little found family.

They treat him like glass now. Gentle words and careful touch. None of the sibling-like behaviour he was used to. Perhaps it was for the best, he still flinched when any of them moved too fast but goddamn, he hadn't been broken by Whumper! Had he? No. They were just being overprotective! He was fine! He still had his other leg and the burns were healing! Even the marks on his wrists and face from the shackles and muzzle were gone!

He hates that he can only watch from afar as he watches her bond with his family. Maybe in a different life he would have found her instead of the other way round and she'd fit right into their dynamic like she belonged among them.

Leader didn't mean to snap at her. He didn't mean to say all those things he said. He was just tired and angry and his whole body ached.

But he also didn't expect his team to immediately take her side. He should have. It was his fault after all, she was just trying to help him.

When he watches through the crack of his door as Oldest reassures her and Medic helps her up. He doesn't get to hear much with his still healing eardrums but the words he hears are enough.

"Leader isn't himself anymore, don't listen to him. It's just Whumper talking,"

He feels his heart break as he finally comes to terms that he's been replaced as Youngest gives him a dissapointed look as he closes Leader's door, leaving him alone again.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 17 - "Lost in these Memories" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

More Fugo whump for today's @whumptober fic, (With Stand Hugs!)

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Collar, Touch Aversion, 'Leave me alone' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Fugo

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Bucciarati made up the tray of food, purposefully placing the bowl of soup, the spoon and napkin, and the glass of water as he mentally prepared to face his youngest team member again.

It had been five days now since Fugo had gone missing on a mission—three since he had been found, and he still hadn't left his room since they'd brought him home.

Bucciarati wasn't entirely sure what to do. Any attempt he had made to coax Fugo out had been met with firm denial, and while he could certainly understand such a reaction after a traumatic event, he knew Fugo was suffering and, worse, suffering alone. He had so far refused any comfort Bruno or Abbacchio tried to offer him, simply staying curled in bed, wrapped in blankets.

Bruno sighed and knocked on the teen's door before letting himself in, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

"Fugo? I brought you some dinner," he said quietly as he entered the dim room.

Fugo briefly looked up at him from the book he was reading before flicking his eyes downward once more. "You can just put it there," he mumbled nodding to the side table.

Bucciarati did as asked and hesitated before he left. "Pannacotta, I'd like to check your injuries again if that's okay?"

Fugo's hands started to shake instantly and Bruno felt terrible for even bringing it up, but an infection wasn't going to do him any better either.

"No—n-no. I really can't stand anyone touching me right now. I—I can't. Please. I can do it myself. I promise I'll clean them well."

Bucciarati closed his eyes briefly, but nodded. "Alright. I'll leave the medical supplies in the bathroom for you. But if you need help with the ones on your back—"

"I don't! I'm fine!" Fugo snapped, then ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's all right," Bucciarati told him gently. "Please try to eat something. And let me know if you need anything else."

He slipped out of the room, and his fists clenched in fury the instant the door was closed, teeth grinding.

He and Abbacchio, along with the other soldati had already demolished the gang who had taken Fugo, but what good did it do when the damage had already been done? Fugo had been doing so well recently. He'd stopped jumping when Bruno and Abbacchio accidently brushed him, just generally doing better with human proximity. He'd even started to accept hugs when he was having bad nights, calming in Bruno's careful hold.

And now all of that had been erased instantly by the cruelty of his captors, using his aversion to touch against him. Mocking, hurting, using knives and fists to demolish the fond touches Bruno sought to provide when he was sure Fugo would be okay with it, taking that gained trust and tearing it to pieces.

The image of Fugo when they'd finally found him in that cargo container would forever haunt Bucciarati's nightmares. Shivering in a corner, bloody and bruised, bound hand and foot with a collar locked around his throat, keeping him upright so he could not pull away from his captors without choking himself.

Even the act of freeing Fugo had sent him into a panic attack and there was no comfort Bruno could offer aside from words, which was harder than he had thought it would be.

One look at the teen panicking and sobbing had sent Abbacchio back out to start delivering a justified beat-down of the bastards who had dared hurt Fugo.

And when they got him back, Bucciarati had only been able to do the bare minimum to tend to Fugo's injuries before he flat-out pushed him away and retreated to his room where he had stayed ever since.

Abbacchio met him in the kitchen, breaking Bucciarati out of his brooding thoughts.

"How is he?" the other man asked quietly.

Bucciarati shook his head, grabbing bowls to dish soup out for him and Abbacchio even though he wasn't hungry. "I honestly don't know what to do. There's no telling how long this will go on, especially if he refuses help—"

Abbacchio held up a hand. "First of all, hovering isn't going to help him," he said.

Bruno huffed. "I know that. And I'm trying not to, it's just…"

"I know," Abbacchio replied with a sigh. "I don't like seeing the kid like that either. But he needs space right now. He knows he's safe here and that's going to have to be enough for the moment."

Bucciarati pressed his lips together, knowing the other man was right.

Abbacchio's advice didn't help when he heard Fugo screaming in his sleep that night. He had to get up to see him even though he knew he would be rejected.

"Fugo?" he called as he tapped on the door, hearing the moaning and shifting of blankets. He opened the door and saw the boy wound up in his sheets, struggling, eyes and jaw clenched tight as he let out breathless sobs, chest heaving too quickly.

"Pannacotta," Bruno called firmly, standing beside the bed.

The blond only continued to struggle against the sheets, breaths becoming more and more panicked. Bruno finally had to reach out and help, unable to watch this anymore.

But Fugo flailed the instant Bruno touched the sheets. "Don't!" he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"Panna, I'm just…" Bucciarati tried, but he pulled away.

Fugo's eyes finally opened and he scrambled to sit against the head of the bed, eyes darting around frantically, not seeing anything.

"Panna," Bruno called again and his head whipped over toward him. "You're home. You're safe. It's just me here."

Fugo's face crumpled, and he curled into himself. "I hate this, I hate this," he cried.

Bruno pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat carefully, making sure he wasn't in any way crowding Fugo.

"It's okay, Pannacotta."

"No it's not!" Fugo snapped, scrubbing at his eyes as he hugged himself, fingers digging into his ribs. "I-I fucked up! I got captured, and I l-let them control me, and I c-couldn't do anything about it!"

Something rippled in the corner and Bucciarati looked over to see Purple Haze materializing. The Stand moaned forlornly as it hugged its knees and rocked back and forth. Fugo didn't even seem to realize his Stand was out, proving how much distress he was currently in. As long as Purple Haze didn't start punching things though, Bruno wasn't going to worry about him.

"You didn't let them control you, Fugo," Bruno told him firmly. "They tortured you."

Fugo shook his head. "But I'm the one who let them see how much it bothered me. I told them to stop, but they—they just made a sick game of it. And I forgot—I almost forgot how much it could hurt." His voice hitched on a sob again. "Because I didn't have to worry for so long but now every time I try to sleep, it's just…that in my head again. But worse, because it's that and my recent capture combined."

Purple Haze wailed again, echoing his user's distress, burying his head in his knees.

Bucciarati's heart ached to hear Fugo talk about it. To know that his mind was so cruel as to combine his recent trauma and that of his horrible past only hurt all the more. He could only imagine how much mental anguish Fugo was going through.

"I don't…know how to make it better," Fugo sobbed. "I didn't want to be like this anymore, but they fucked it all up and I don't know what to do to fix myself."

Bucciarati barely resisted the urge to reach out and offer some form of comforting touch to Fugo. The boy was shaking so hard, just barely keeping the panic under control.

"I am so sorry that this happened, Panna," Bruno told him sincerely. "But none of it was your fault. It was all those bastards back there, and they won't be hurting anyone ever again—I can assure you of that. And you don't have to 'fix' yourself. There's nothing to fix. You survived, Panna, and sometimes that's its own strength."

Fugo didn't say anything. He simply pulled his knees up, making himself small, arms wrapped around himself. Bruno didn't think it was possible for someone in a room with another person—and a Stand—to look so alone, but Fugo was suffering so much right now that his pain burrowed deep into Bucciarati's soul and curled up there.

Purple Haze wailed again and Bruno straightened up, knowing he had to ask at least, for his own sanity if nothing else.

"Do you… want a hug?" he asked softly, seeing the way Fugo kept hugging his arms to his chest. "It's okay if you don't but I wanted to offer."

Fugo let out a soft sob. "I-I do but…I don't think I can handle that much touch right now. I just…I just want it to be like it was before and I'm so fucking mad!"

Purple Haze moaned, rocking forlornly in the corner. That was when Bucciarati had an idea.

"Panna, do you mind if I try something?" he asked, holding up his hands, palms out. "I'm not going to touch you, but please let me know if any of this is too much."

He manifested Sticky Fingers and the Stand crossed the room to kneel in front of Purple Haze. Fugo's stand shifted and looked up at the other. Sticky Fingers slowly opened his arms, not making a move, but waiting.

Purple Haze hesitated, moaned, then suddenly lurched forward and practically tackled Sticky Fingers backwards, letting out a mournful sound.

Bruno watched, shocked as Purple Haze curled up against Sticky and his Stand held onto Haze tightly, rocking him back and forth. It was an odd sensation, both physically and mentally comforting, like being wrapped in a soft blanket and just the perfect temperature.

After a few moments, Purple Haze started to let out a gurgling, almost purring sound, drooling against Sticky Fingers' shoulder.

Bruno glanced over to Fugo to see how he was taking this, and saw a slight embarrassed flush on his cheeks, as he watched the Stands, but his breathing had calmed down a little and he wasn't quite so tense anymore.

"Is it okay? Like that?" Bruno asked him hesitantly.

Fugo nodded. "Actually, yes. It's not bad at all."

Bruno smiled, relief flooding him. "That's good."

Fugo clenched the sheets in his hands, staring down as his cheeks flushed again. "Could you…stay, until I fall asleep?" he mumbled.

"Of course, Panna," Bruno replied, settling into the chair. "I won't go anywhere."

Fugo let out a shuddering sigh and lay back down in the bed, allowing Bruno to help untangle the rest of the covers and tuck them back into the mattress. He then took up a book and stayed there reading until Fugo fell asleep. All the while, Sticky Fingers and Purple Haze stayed cuddled together on the other side of the room.

Over the next few days, whenever Fugo was having a hard time, Purple Haze would appear somewhere in the apartment and Bruno or Abbacchio would deploy their Stands for comfort and hugging. Abbacchio had been somewhat hesitant at first, but Moody Blues had had other ideas, going directly up to Purple Haze and pulling him into a firm embrace.

Another week passed and Fugo finally ventured out of his room for more than just the bathroom and water.

"Feeling better?" Bruno asked kindly as he set some breakfast in front of Fugo.

The blond nodded, and though he was still covered in bruises, showing up all too much on his pale skin, he did look a little better. He picked at his nails, then looked up at Bruno. "Could I…try a hug?" he asked.

Bruno didn't say anything, simply opened his arms to let Fugo come to him.

The boy hesitated, then got out of his chair and came forward, tentatively looping his arms around Bucciarati before he leaned fully into him with a long exhale.

Bruno lightly wrapped his arms around Fugo's shoulders. "How's that?" he asked.

"I think I'm getting there," Fugo said sincerely.

~~~~~~~

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

If you want to follow me on other social media or ask about commissions, find my info on My Carrd

[tryan-a-bex]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), InCryptid - Seanan McGuire Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gault & Jed Walker, Antimony Price/Sam Taylor Characters: Jed Walker, Gault (The Sandman), Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Alice Price-Healy, Antimony Price, Sam Taylor (InCryptid) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Torture, flensing, Explosives, Grenades, Knives, Nightmares, Nightmare death, jed walker is a knight, gaulcienne, Canon-Typical Violence, Alice is just being herself, Separation Anxiety, Tea Parties, talking is better than fighting, it's sweet and fluffier than it sounds i promise Series: Part 6 of Walking with the Walkers, Part 10 of A Quiet Love with Wings Summary:

“I hate to ask you this, Gault, but it has to be a Major Arcana and I have a feeling Fiddler’s Green is too peaceful and the Corinthian is too violent. I need someone who can talk her down.” “Of course, Lucienne. You know I will always be willing to help you.” “I know, love! But be careful, will you? None of the nightmares who have been assigned to her this week have come back, and we don’t know what she is doing to them.” “I promise to be careful. I’ll come back to you, Lucienne. Major Arcana, after all. And hopefully whatever she is doing to her nightmares, she won’t do it to a dream.” “Go with my love, then.”

@monsterfucktoberbingo for the cryptid square

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter One

Masterlist

AO3 link

Lydia Vector is a trauma surgeon trying to find herself again after a traumatic incident--on top of surviving the zombie apocalypse. Along the way, she finds community, friendship, and maybe something more.

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

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

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

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

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--blood, violence, amputation, swearing

“Lydia Rae Vector, Board-Certified in Trauma Surgery!”

The grin that spread across my face caused my cheeks to ache. I looked out and saw my parents and brothers, who fought like hell for their front-row seats to witness their only daughter and sister receive her certification. This was the moment I had worked my entire life for.

My residency was complete. And my boards had been passed. I was officially a surgeon.

The “waterproof” mascara I had spent my last $20 on ran and flaked into my eye, causing it to water more. I take my certificate from the officiator, shake his hand, and look out to the audience once again.

And I see him. Every single time, I see him.

A man stumbling down the center aisle, appearing drunk and disorderly, but he’s covered in blood, and his skin is bluish-grey. Decomposition has clearly already started. That was evident by both the open wounds on his body and the putrid stench that accompanied him. And the rest always happens the exact same way.

The crowd notices him, and slowly, the entire auditorium falls silent. Security starts to come around from the emergency exits, but before they can get to him, the man has made his way to the front row.

And he attacks my mother.

Her screams, the screams of my father and brothers, the screams of the audience and the screams coming from my own throat haunt me. He rips her vocal cords out with one swift bite, and her screams cease as quickly as they began.

And this is always where my nightmare ends.

I wake up in a cold sweat, nothing unusual there. I throw myself upwards, letting out a small yelp and feeling all over myself with my hands, checking for wounds and blood. My mornings went exactly the same way.

Every. single. time.

The small shed I had spent the night in looked even dustier during the day. I used my hands to prop myself up off of the floor and and pulled my backpack, which was my pillow every night, out from behind me. Scooting slightly to my left to get out of the blinding sun coming in through the window, I unzipped it and went through the checklist that I always do, making sure every weapon I had was still in its place.

“Axe, knife, guns, spear,” I said out loud, pulling one of the small guns and the collapsible spear out and setting them on the ground next to me. Checking that the safety was still on for both guns, I checked for my other items. Nothing had ever been stolen from me in the night, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Journal, water bottle, clothes, food, tools, gauze, lighter, bandages, disinfectant, sewing kit, pills, and my most unique weapon.” Once everything was accounted for, I took the blanket I had been using and folded it as best as I could, stuffing it in on top of everything. I slipped my water bottle out and took the smallest sip, just enough to get rid of my cotton mouth and dry throat. I slipped the gun I left on the floor into the strap on my leg and extended my spear, getting up off of the ground and dusting myself off.

I paused for a moment and listened to the birds chirping outside. I wonder what they were saying to each other, I thought to myself. They seem happy. Of course they did. They don’t have to live through the end of the world in the same way humans do.

My reveling in listening to bird calls was quickly interrupted by the sound of a scream. A human scream. And Walker groans.

I swung my backpack onto my shoulders and jumped to the corner next to the door. I lifted my head slowly, just enough for my eyes to enter the window frame.

There was a man, probably around my age, on the ground, and three Walkers surrounding him. I could see that he had lost his knife in the scuffle, and I imagine he was hesitant to use a gun because he didn’t want to attract more of the reanimated corpses. I readied my spear, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open in one fell swoop.

“Aye motherfuckers!” I yelled, drawing the attention of all three Walkers towards me. I skipped backwards, away from the man, putting a little more distance between myself & the undead. I swung my spear and stabbed the closest one right between the eyes, pulling it out and watching the heap fall to the ground. The other two went down similarly. I paused for a moment, perking up my ears and listening to make sure no others were coming.

Once it was clear, I ran to the man. He was still on the ground, groaning in pain. That’s when I saw the bite on his ankle. My heart sank. But I knew what I needed to do. I ran and kneeled down next to him.

“Hey, what’s your name man?” I said to him, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. I saw a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“A-A-Aaron,” he said, gritting his teeth through the pain.

“Alright Aaron, my name is Vector. I’m a doctor, and I can save you, but we gotta get you inside that shed right there. Can you sit up?” He nodded and used his arms to pull himself into a sitting position. I got up on my feet and put an arm around his back, under his arms.

“Alright Aaron, let’s get you on your feet,” I told him, and I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. He put his body weight onto his right foot & onto me, and we slowly stood up together. Thankfully, the shed was right by us. I got him through the door and helped him back down onto the floor. Once he was on his back, I moved like lightning to get out my small axe, disinfectant, lighter, bandages, gauze, and two of my shirts, one with long sleeves and a small one.

“Aaron, you probably know where this is going, but I’m going to have to cut your foot off. And then I’m going to cauterize your wound so it hopefully won’t get infected,” I said between inhales, taking the my smaller shirt and tying it into a knot to form a gag. We couldn’t have him attracting any more Walkers. “I need you to take this and bite down as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes…” Aaron said. I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes. He put the knotted shirt into his mouth, laying his head back onto the dirty floor. I poured a small amount of disinfectant onto my axe and onto his leg, just above the bite mark. Some of the disinfectant ran into the wound, and he writhed in pain.

“Alright.” I looked over at him, meeting his eyes, “I need you to stay completely still. Bite down as hard as you possibly can. You got this my man.” He squeezed his eyes shut. I raised the axe up, lining it up with where I was going to make my mark.

“I’m so sorry Aaron,” I whispered, swinging the axe down as hard as I could. Thankfully, his foot and ankle came off with one hit. His blood sprayed across the shed, getting onto the walls and all over both of us.

Despite the muffling of the shirt, his screaming was loud. The tears were flowing. And so was the blood. I grabbed my lighter with my right hand and grabbed Aaron’s hand with my left one, squeezing it to remind him he wasn’t alone.

“I’m going to cauterize it next. This pain is probably going to be worse, but I know you can do this. Just keep breathing through your nose and squeeze my hand when you need to,” I told him. He didn’t nod or acknowledge what I said in any way, but I had to keep moving to stop the bleeding. I flicked on my lighter and held it to his open wound, gliding it back and forth across the whole area. I did this for a couple of minutes to ensure the whole area had been cauterized. For Aaron, I’m sure it felt like hours. He squeezed my hand so hard that I was sure he was going to break it. His muffled screams were the only sound I heard.

“You’re doing great bud,” I spoke softly, “I have padding and gauze that I’m going to put onto it next, then I’m going to wrap it in one of my shirts. Keep biting onto that one for as long as you need.” This time, he opened his eyes, which were bright red from crying, and nodded. I took a couple of pads and pressed them to his leg, holding them in place while I started the gauze wrapping.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ice pack or anything to help with the burning,” I said. He spat my shirt onto the ground and let out a small chuckle.

“Sorry? You just saved my life.” I took my long-sleeved plaid button-up and wrapped his leg in it, using the sleeves to tie it around his calf. He was still hyperventilating a little.

“Just rest for right now,” I instructed, “once you’re doing a little better, I’ll help you get back to your home base.” He tried to pull himself up to a sitting position, but I lightly pressed on his shoulders to let him know to lay back down, “Stay like that. Just focus on your breathing. I have some water, and I have food if you’re hungry.”

“What did you say your name was?” he asked me. I pulled my water bottle, which was about half-full, out of my bag.

“Vector,” I repeated. I scooted over to him and helped him lift his head enough to sip some water without choking on it. I took my knotted shirt and unknotted it, giving to him to wipe the tears and water off of his face. He rotated his head and looked up at me.

“Vector, why did you help me?” he asked, “you could’ve just killed me, saved your resources. Or taken my stuff and ran.” I squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“I took an oath,” I explained, “I’m a doctor. This is what I do.”

“How can I—“ a cough stopped him mid-sentence, “repay you? I can get you food, water, supplies. I have a community. Just say the word and whatever you want is yours.” I leaned back and grabbed my spear, which I had dropped on the way in, and collapsed it fully, rolling back and forth on the floor between my hands.

“Honestly, I could just use directions to a certain place, I must be close to it by now. I’m looking for a safe zone, it’s called—“

“Alexandria.”

I cocked my head at him, my words catching in my mouth and my facial expression displaying my shock. “How did you know that?”

“It’s the only one around here. We’re only a couple miles out” he laughed. Despite my protests earlier, he used his upper body to pull himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against some boxes, “I’m actually from there. I’m a recruiter. I go out with my partner Eric, and we search for survivors, like yourself, and see who would make useful additions to our community. And hell, we could definitely use you.”

I couldn’t believe my luck.

“I’ve been looking for Alexandria for months.”

[awyeahitssam]

My Writing Masterlist

Since I post on here far more consistently then on ao3 for reasons, I figured I would compile a list of my writing for those who don't like sifting through fandoms they could care less about to get to the good stuff. 

Separated by fandom, and somewhat by trope. 

Harry Potter:

Harry eats a God. 

Harry just can't seem to stay dead. TW: Suicide, character death, frequent character death, torture, murder, disjointed snippets, discontinued + Harry dissociates. Connected, same warnings may apply. 

First Encounters: Time loop, Voldemort-as-Quirrell visits the Dursleys and is less than pleased. 

First Encounters: The first time Harry meets Voldemort, the man he's been trained to kill all his life, he's nineteen, and Voldemort recognizes him. 

Prisoner Harry tells Voldemort about the Dursleys like it's a bedtime story. 

Except for the incident, Harry really doesn't tend to talk a lot when he has a concussion. Stream of thought narrative, character injury.

Literally just Empath!Harry spoilers. Harry, at his trial, allowing himself be petty to an extent. 

Harry gets drunk, pulled into Voldemort's mind, and decides he wants to share his good mood.

Tea shop AU.  + more�� Tea Shop (weather) AU. + something actually Tea-based under the cut

Four of a Kind AU: Learning to kiss split-scene. Harry/Harry, referenced Harry/Horcrux + They meet. They kiss. What if. Voldemort/Harry + In the aftermath Voldemort/Harry

Kid Fic: Harry ‘dies’ as a child. Mentor!Voldemort, absolutely not a pairing ficlet. 

Kid Fic: Harry and Voldemort’s kid lands in the past during a duel at the Ministry. Pre-Harrymort, Micah, not quite the kiss you'd expect.

Female Harry, world-jumping, rationally angry. Tom/Harry intended, if Harry will chill out on the murder. 

Harry likes to feel pretty. Horcrux/Harry, Harry wears makeup, etc. 

Tom and Harry jump through time to each other. Tomarry, growing up, fluff, brief kissing, Harry’s older

Dragon AU, I have a lot more of this one written, I should dump that some day. Harry/Horcruxes

Harry/Tom: pillow forts, soft angst, unresolved, broken promises

Harry's really fucking sick and tired of being told what the fuck to do. 

Tom-after-Voldemort is the first person Harry has ever spoken to. Isolation, lighthearted, odd, old and forgotten. 

Harry never imagines the effect getting a boyfriend would have on Riddle. Jealous Tom. 

Harry messes with Diary!Tom

Harry and Voldemort have to complete a task based on the colour of the others' robes, for some reason?

Harry is kidnapped and wakes up in an incredibly comfortable bed. Voldemorts knows Harry is his horcrux.

Harry ruthlessly defends Hogwarts against encroaching Death Eaters. Sixth Year.

It's one paragraph guys.

Prompt-based: Tom possesses Harry when he's afraid. Hermione POV.

Prompt-based: Santa forgot about Harry, again.

Prompt-based: Tom watches Harry draw dirty, dirty things at church.

Teen Wolf, all at least peripherally intended as Stiles/Peter

Kid Fic + Genderbend + Time Travel: Stiles is in the past and nobody is raising Malia, so she sure as shit will.

Stiles has known about werewolves since he was nine, and now that he's off the college it seems his dad has gottten involved. No Hale Fire, Protective Stiles

The first thing Kate does when she comes back to Beacon Hills is kidnap Peter. Human!Alpha Stiles, eventual Steter, pre-slash

Stiles has the curse of obedience. Stiles/Peter

Flower shop AU! Ft. Petty Peter and insulting bouquets.

Peter says he hates Stiles. Stiles begs to differ. 

Werewolf Stiles wakes up in the middle of Beacon Hills woods naked, and tries to keep it low key from there. Bakery AU, kinda. Peter/Stiles

First Encounters: The Hale pack summons Stiles to the past. 

First Encounters: The first time Stiles meets Peter he is drunk. Stiles is a rude, very straight-forward drunk who steps all over issues like dead family and psychosis. It’s like he had a minefield map and is intentionally stepping on every trigger. 

Stiles meets Peter in the hospital.

Stiles pulls back because he doesn't want Peter to mess up his dress shirt, not because he doesn't want the bite. 

Stiles crochets magic shit. Fluff. 

Negotiations go well. 

Peter being the literal worst, holy hell, this hurts to read. Have some angst. Past-Stiles/Peter

Okay, my bad for that last one. Have some comfort. Crying, comfort, Stiles & Peter

Dragon Stiles is constantly underestimated. 

Stiles beats Peter, sore loser extraordinaire. 

Me acting like Stiles has shame for some reason.

Female Stiles gets forcibly genderbent and is not putting up with anybody's shit. Body dysmorphia, shitty friends, anger issues, sexism. Peter/Stiles

Female Stiles and Peter. Shower, soft.

Stiles writes smutty fanfic, as he should. 

Stiles being a bad influence on his little self, ft Knowing Himself Too Fucking Well. Time travel AU, torture

Peter walks away. 

Peter/Stiles, marking, one of the sexiest things I've ever written imo 

Peter is dumb, stupid, silly villain. 

Peter’s timing is about as good as Stiles’ filter. Dumb, stupid villain antics. 

Stiles threatens Peter, /lh

Stiles is justifiably sad after a movie. 

Tony Stark-centric:

Gen: Tony takes after Maria. Few people recognize a predator wrapped up in such Tony packaging. 

Gen: Tony bantering with, and teasing, Peter. 

Tony Stark uses the infinity stones. 

Tony survives the stones. 

Tony proposes. In public. In a way that undeniably affirms his feelings. Loki/Tony

Loki meets Morgan for the first time. Loki/Tony, kid fic

Hair Kink—I mean braiding! Aha, ha, ha… Loki/Tony

Female Toni doesn't take well to her children being threatened. 

Soulmates? Tony/Loki

Rhodey gives Loki the shovel talk ft. Parks & Rec

Tony saves the day…?

Bleach / Time travel: Ichigo isn't supposed to be here. 

The 100: Cage Wallace stages a coup before the forty-eight arrive. (Or: Dante Wallace dies before his time.) This changes everything.

Tagged: 10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Shorts

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 23

massage/wiping away tears/gentle touch

Cut Down the Altar (dubiously canon) TW: referenced self-destructive habits, past torture, exes to lovers (sort of) word count: 359 @augusnippets

[September 2011]

Mr. Garnett had warned Joshua countless times that recovery wouldn't be a straight line. Even so, Joshua couldn't silence the thoughts that he failed. He let himself self-destruct again, let his friends get caught in the crossfire. Worst of all, he let himself believe all the worst opinions about himself. He was a monster, undeserving of love and comfort, only worthwhile as a vessel for the bloodlust of others.

Perhaps Joshua could've deserved love, but not it.

It- no, he did learn one lesson after his reversion, his imprisonment, and all the pain. Even if he couldn't see his worth at times, the company he kept was quick to remind him.

Especially Izzy and Maddie.

With Isaac out of the house during that particular rainy day, off to scope out new pedals for his guitar, Maddie was the one who had her arms around Joshua's waist, rubbing circles around his hips as he stared at his claws.

“I… I still don't get why the hell you decided to take me back,” Joshua muttered. “You know what I look like.”

“If all I wanted from a partner was looks, I would've gotten on one of those godforsaken dating apps Izzy and Leah have been struggling with.”

“I doubt Grindr will have what you're looking for.”

Though his comment got a laugh from Maddie, Joshua only felt the weight in his chest increase.

“Well, my point is, I don't care how you look,” Maddie continued. “I care about how you've grown. I care that you're telling me when something is bothering you, and that you're letting me help. And…” A sensation akin to a warm shower washed over Joshua when he felt Maddie rest her head against the crook of his neck. “I care that you gave me a second chance. I know how much trust something like that took.”

Embarrassing as it was, Joshua did little more than let his eyes close as purrs rumbled up his chest and through his throat.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, purr adding an extra growl to his voice. “Bet you only like me ‘cause you've always had a thing for monster guys.”

“Josh!”

[thewhumperinwhite]

WKW: Spine

Masterpost // Previous

@annablogsposts @whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff @the-monarch-whumperfly @iboopsstuff (also: i finally added a taglist to my main wkw doc, so please send me a message if you wanna be on that list)

TW for: back injury; burns; Magical Injury/painful healing; guilt; Injury To The Degree That It Is Kind Of Body Horror; potential/partial paralysis; referenced past abuse/murder; referenced noncon; nonsexual nudity (brief/implied).

----

Night has barely fallen when they bring the dying Prince to Feira’s salon. By the time she has stitched him together enough to leave him sleeping on her table, his face shadowed and aura flickering but death no longer crouching on his chest, the sun is streaming through the salon’s single window and directly into Feira’s eyes. She collapses back into the single chair that sits opposite her table, wiping sweat and stray strands of grey hair from her forehead with the least bloody part of her sleeve.

It should not have taken this long.

Spines are delicate things, and the care with which she knits one back together will mean the difference between a Prince who someday walks again and one who doesn’t; but she has studied the inner workings of the spine extensively, ever since she put the Prince’s back together from whole cloth after his botched execution. This was never going to be easy, but it should certainly be possible.

It takes her twenty long, harrowing minutes to identify the problem, as she has never encountered anything quite like it before. The iron manacle, clamped to the stump of the Prince’s wrist, is drinking in her magic. Sucking it up like a rag in a puddle. By the end of that first twenty minutes, she is sweating with effort, the Prince is still writhing with the effort of each breath, and when she happens to brush the manacle with the back of her hand, she draws back with a hiss. The metal is hot enough to burn her skin.

Feira is familiar with iron as an insulator against magical energy, of course. Magic-resistant armor is always made of iron; one of the earliest ways to recognize magical aptitude in a child is a rash-like reaction to the touch of iron. But she’s never seen anything like this before. She takes hold of the Prince’s wrist to examine the manacle—seeing, now, the way his skin is already reddening from the heat—and sees the unfamiliar rune welded into the metal. It can be no accident: it must be an intentional damper on the Prince’s magic.

There are—implications, there. About the fall of Fourshield House; about claims that the White Crane has made. None of which Feira has time to think about now, while the Prince is dying on her table, and she does not have the key to his cursed shackle.

It is—not an insurmountable obstacle. But it does mean that Feira must dig deeper into her Patron’s magical reserves than she ever has before, must strain her own aura to the point of pain and dig deeper into the Prince’s soul than she would ever have done given the choice—and must close her eyes to how the skin of his arm reddens and then blisters. The Prince slips in and out of awareness throughout the night; sometimes he is even awake enough to beg for mercy, though he never seems coherent enough to know who his torturer is, and Feira is shamefully grateful for that.

In the end, he still—has an arm, however useless it is without a hand attached. It is a horrible sun-scorched red up to the elbow; the place where the manacle once touched skin has burned down deep into the flesh beneath; in between the skin has bubbled and blistered in ways that make Feira have to stop in the middle and waste seconds she doesn't have gulping air and trying not to be sick. And even then—a spine is a finnicky thing. She may have twisted his arm beyond repair without even returning the use of his legs. She doesn’t know. Certainly he will be well within his rights to hate her to the end of his days, for these hours of torture if not for the years of neglect that preceded them.

But he does not die.

----

Thorne does not expect to fall asleep, not even when he gives up on pacing the hallway and sits down outside the Healer’s door with his forehead pressed to his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. Andry is not screaming as much, by then. Thorne doesn’t know if that means the pain has lessened, or the Prince’s throat has simply given out.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps; he doesn’t even know it's happened until he hears his Master’s voice—he knows it immediately, even in sleep, and is halfway to his feet before he is fully awake or his Master has finished the sentence—say, “What are you doing here?”

Thorne snaps to attention, though he has to grab the wall to keep from falling over while his vision clears. Morden is looking at him with blank surprise but no anger, thank the gods. Morden looks like he hasn't slept, either, and for some reason there is a smudge of blood near one corner of his jaw, like he has tried to wipe it away and not quite succeeded.

“Master,” Thorne says, his mind blessedly blank with relief. “I was—�� Part of him knows he is not being careful enough, that he is too tired and wrung out to pay attention to what he says, that he must no better, by now, than to speak to his Master without thinking first.“Someone—I wanted to—they almost killed him, Master,” he blurts out. He sounds like a child to his own ears; high pitched and near tears.

Morden blinks at Thorne. Thorne cannot read his Master's face. That sends an immediate spike of panic into Thorne's guts that brings him halfway back into his body, thankfully. He pulls himself together, with a mighty effort, and bows his head properly, like he is giving an ordinary report, and his voice is almost steady, this time.

“There was an attempt on the Summer Prince’s life, Master,” Thorne says, without lifting his head. “I was—absent from my quarters at the time. I apologize for not taking more care with your gift.”

He should say more. He should tell Morden about the guards. Even if... they were enlisted men, not officers, but Morden might still notice their absence. Thorne didn’t even think to look around the Healer’s room' their bodies might be right inside the door for all he knows. He should tell Morden.

(The word "gift" shouldn't make his mouth fill up with bile, like he's going to gag on what his Master has given him. He should be anticipating his Masters needs and striving to meet them. He shouldn't be thinking about his Master's needs and feeling—feeling—)

(Morden, for his part, is afflicted with a strong desire to laugh. Thorne, his head still bowed, does not see this. Morden schools his features carefully before Thorne meets his eyes.)

“…I see,” Morden says. “And was that attempt successful?”

Thorne shakes his head.

“No, Master,” he says. “No, he—he’s alive. But—I—they—” The words do not want to come. But his Master is watching, so he makes them. “His back is broken, I think,” he says, though it comes out thin and whispery and wrong.

Morden raises his eyebrows. Thorne looks at the blood on his Master’s jaw. His Masters next words are muffled by the sudden buzzing in Thorne’s ears.

“I imagine he'll be fine,” Morden says, and brushes past him to open the Healer’s door.

----

Andry knows the ceiling of the Healer’s room as soon as he opens his eyes. It is decorated with vines and fruit and beehives, sculpted out of white plaster, cracked a little with age.

He feels cracked that way himself. He doesn’t try to move his arm, but even in stillness it feels

(like it is filled with crawling insects who are eating it from the inside like old wood like it is in a sleeve of struck matches like it has swollen so far that the skin has split like rotten meat left in the sun)

bad.

The door of the Healer’s room opens. Andry does not see who has entered, at first; he only sees Lady Feira, the old Court Healer, leap to her feet, placing herself bodily between him and the intruder.

“No,” Lady Feira says, in thickly-accented Leisevan. “No visitors. Get out.”

“Now is a bad time to be in my way, Madam Healer,” the Winter King says in a soft, gentle voice. His Craetan is very good, as always.

Andry feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest, but it has been a long, long night, and he is too tired to feel properly afraid.

Lady Feira is shaking her head. “No. It is enough. You have done enough, you will do no more, I will not—”

Andry takes hold of the Healer’s wrist with his good hand. She stills, though he can feel that she is trembling slightly.

“It’s alright, Feira,” he rasps.

Lady Feira turns to look down at him, over her shoulder. She looks—stricken in a way he has never seen her look before, even when his fever came back a few weeks after his back had begun to heal. He might feel sorry for her, in a few hours. He is too tired for it, just at the moment.

Lady Feira removes her spectacles and rubs her eyes, letting her shoulders sag and not looking at either Andry or Morden.

“Fine,” she says, after a moment, in Craetan. “Fine. Speak, Winter King; but do no more or you will waste the hours I have just spent keeping the Prince alive.”

Andry can see just enough of Morden over the Healer’s shoulder to see him cross his arms and raise his eyebrows at her expectantly. The Healer swears under her breath. She turns back to Andry.

“Don’t try to move,” she says curtly. Her expression seems more under control, though her eyes are still tight with misery. “I won’t go far.”

It’s—kind enough, as a sentiment. Andry knows she can do less than nothing against Morden, any more than he can. It’s nice that she's—thinking of him, he supposes.

Morden watches her leave. When she has closed the door behind her, he turns to look down at Andry, narrowing his black eyes.

Morden pulls up the Healer’s chair and sits down beside the sickbed. The Healer has draped a blanket across Andry's chest; it is the only thing between him and the Winter King. Andry tucks his ruined arm underneath it.

“Alright, Summer Prince," Morden says. "You've got my attention. Tell me about your sister.”

[serickswrites]

Whump One Shots

Here are all my one shots (can become series by request!) organized by theme (this is the first of many)

Whump

That Didn't Work Out as I Intended--TW: implied/referenced kidnapping; hurt/recovery; trauma response: flight and freeze

Definitely Not--TW: kidnapping, torture, future torture, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Just Watch--TW: kidnapping, confinement, creepy/intimate whumper

Let's Kiss--TW: noncon; assault, future assault, kidnapping, self-sacrifice, creepy/intimate whumper

You Can't Quit On Me Now--TW: kidnapping; blood; hospital; wounds; mild description of gore; major character injury; recovery and aftermath

Idiots--TW: referenced kidnapping; implied torture; helplessness

If I Have to Tell You Again--TW: kidnapping; creepy/intimate whumper, implied torture, noncon, defiant whumpee, conditioning

Horribly Wrong--TW: kidnapping; future/implied/referenced torture; beatings; restraint; forced to watch

A Mask--TW: kidnapping; blood; death; character death (temporary)

Impossible--TW: referenced torture; hurt/comfort; hurt/aftermath; recover/aftermath; reluctant whumpee; hospital

Kind of Fun--TW: suffocation; blood; creepy (not intimate) whumper; defiant whumpee

Moon--TW: blood, major character injury, restraints, captivity, stabbing, rescue, caretaker and whumpee

Stars--TW: mentions of torture (electrocution, beating, whipping, waterboarding), attempted drowning, bound, forced to watch 

Rain--TW: past abuse/torture, recovery/aftermath, conditioning, burns, break with reality

Wake Up--TW: torture, burns, kidnapping, creepy whumper, blood, future torture implied

Lost--TW: restraints, rescue

Flirt--TW: wounds, injury

Movie--comfort, vaguely referenced whump

DND--TW: kidnapping; torture; blood

Late--TW: restraints, torture, defiant whumpee

Sleep--TW: torture, creepy/intimate whumper, water torture

Braids--TW: kidnapping, restraint, gags, torture, creepy/intimate whumper

Call Me, Maybe?--TW: kidnap, rescue, injury, referenced torture, restraint, gags, seizures

Smile--TW: kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon, future assault, past assault (assumption)

Earth--TW: kidnapping; burial; buried alive; rescue attempt

Gone--TW: recovery/aftermath, discussion of suicide (very very passive ideation), implied torture

Five Minutes--TW: kidnapping, torture, blood, creepy/intimate whumper

Flowers--just comfort, vague implication of past whump

Tree--TW: restraint; kidnapping; defiant whumpee

Hush--TW: ball gag, gagging, noncon, implied kidnapping, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee

Ghost--TW: character death, death of a loved one

Snow--TW: kidnapping, escape attempt

Reunion--TW: past mention of trauma/abuse; dissociation; comfort; hospital; mention of blood

Taste--poisoning

Five--TW: kidnapping; torture; blood; stabbing; creepy/intimate whumper; conditioning

Beloved--TW: past abuse/trauma; aftermath/recovery

Sizzle--TW: restraints; mild depiction of gore; branding

Countdown--TW: kidnapping; torture; referenced murder

Here?--TW: kidnapping; beating (aftermath); hallucinations; referenced character death (major)

Sleep--TW: sleep deprivation; kidnapping; torture; restraint; defiant whumpee

Song--TW: hospital; coma? (honestly idk what medically is wrong with whumpee....); aftermath and recovery; implied torture; implied kidnapping

Shoulder--TW: gun; blood; gunshot; wound; mild depiction of gore

Snap--TW: escape attempt; broken bones; torture (mild); kidnapping (implied)

Crackle--TW: sickfic (maybe, idk what caused Whumpee’s pneumonia--which is what this is y’all if you didn’t know lol)

Pop--TW: restraint; kidnapping; dislocation

Cook--TW: kidnapping

Shirt--hurt/comfort

Roses--TW: non-con drug use, creepy/intimate whumper

Unsure--TW: aftermath; trauma aftermath; hurt/comfort; hurt/recovery

Better--TW: captivity; kidnapping; implied torture; referenced botched rescue attempt

This--TW: self sacrifice elements

Lies--TW: torture, blood, knives

Anniversary--TW: captivity, non-con, drugging, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Touch--TW: referenced captivity, hurt/aftermath, referenced blood, implied kidnapping, implied torture

Wake Up--TW: implied kidnapping; mcd; noncon drug use; poison

Sea Sick--TW: cruel whumper, seasickness

Dropping the Eaves--TW: captivity; physical assault; implied torture

On My Way--TW: no express whump warnings, but pain is coming

Sick--TW: creepy/intimate whumper

Tired--TW: blood, unconsciousness, hurt/aftermath

Sense--TW: implied kidnapping/captivity

Worse--TW: injury, blood

Writing--TW: hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, implied torture, implied kidnapping

Missed--TW: implied torture, implied future violence, rescue

This is a nightmare--TW: referenced kidnapping, referenced torture

Wrong--TW: captivity, restraint, torture

Wonderful--TW: kidnapping, torture, restraints, non-con, sexual assault, blood

Hug--TW: hurt/aftermath, referenced kidnapping

Stubborn--TW: captivity, torture

Try--TW: abduction, implied future torture

G'Morning--TW: implied noncon, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper

Interesting--TW: choking, implied noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Last Chance--TW: kidnapping, restraints

So Many--TW: restraints, implied torture, stress position, noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Goodbye--TW: self-sacrifice

Happen--TW: hurt/aftermath, blood, unconsciousness

Plan--TW: hurt/aftermath, hospital, broken bones, head injury

Unexpected--TW: bindings, gags, restraints, implied noncon, creepy/intimate whumper

Stay Down--TW: head injury, blood, physical violence, gun

Struggle--TW: kidnapping, sensory deprivation

Blood--TW: blood, blood loss, knives, stabbing, gore, caretaker and whumpee

Bad Dream--TW: kidnapping, torture, restraint, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, hurt/aftermath

To Annoy--TW: stress position, whipping, blood, violence

Let Me See--TW: blood, wounds, gunshot, sprains, self-sacrifice

Cold--TW: hypothermia, hospitals, rescue

Dreaming--TW: mcd, referenced death

Bolt--TW: arrow wound, wound, blood, losing consciousness

Worse Ways--TW: threats of death, electrocution, defiant whumpee

Spiked--TW: drugging, referenced kidnapping, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort

Why Care--TW: hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

My Heart Belongs to You--TW: medical whump, blood, gore, blood loss

Yandere Whumper Request--TW: yandere whumper, captivity, non-con, restraints, gags

Self-Inflicted--TW: captivity, blood, knives, self-harm, escape attempt

Shrapnel--TW: explosion, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, self sacrifice

Alright For Now--TW: Hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, tbh this is just fluff

Don't Leave--TW: hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, implied sensory deprivation?

Like That--TW: torture, knife, blood,, defiant whumpee

Safety--TW: torture, captivity, restraints, electrocution

Clown--TW: captivity, torture, wounds, whipping, restraints, defiant whumpee

Promise--TW: implied torture, kidnapping/captivity, mcd (maybe? you pick your ending folks: does team arrive in time to save whumpee? or do they just find caretaker? the world may never know)

[aftgficrec]

I would loveee fics where Andrew defends Neil to aaron and the other foxes (but definitely Aaron), i’ve seen so many of Neil defending Andrew but not a lot of the other way around and Neil deserves to have his man defend his honorrr

In canon, post-medication Andrew does not talk much to anyone besides Neil. Still there are definitely fics with this. Just know Andrew’s defense of Neil can be one sentence in a story, and physical violence is often his preferred method of communication. -A

previous recs  

‘The Ash is in Our Clothes’ here

‘Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder’ here

‘in the common tongue’ here 

‘I hate him,’ ‘One day we'll reveal the truth,’ ‘i'm getting static from my better sense’ and ‘My brother under the sun’ here

‘some1 saying something…’ here

‘Ember’ here

‘Can he play?’ here

‘Surreal But Nice’ here

‘Least Favorite Only Child’ here

‘Fighting Words’ here

‘Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms)’ here

‘(Don't) Stand So Close’ here

‘In the Eye of the Beholder’ here

‘Beach Bois’ here

‘I'm Not Okay (I Promise).’ and ‘It’s not living (If it’s not with you)’ here

‘soft spots make easy targets’ here

‘Even the Darkest Night Will End’ and ‘The Andreil escapades’ here

in Masterlist for Nicky Kissing Neil: ‘The Kiss,’ ‘History Repeating,’ ‘Andrew Finds Out,’ ‘Something, Nothing & Everything’ (also big twinyards confrontation), ‘A Crack in the Mask,’ ‘Truth Time, ‘Truths Come Out,’ ‘The Unkindness of Ravens’ ch 16, ‘Delayed Reaction,’ ‘Delayed reaction (the fear of falling remix),’ ‘All For The Game Musings,’ ‘andrew finds out about what happened…,’ ‘Hold Each Other’ ch 6 and ch 15, and ‘Slip’. Finally, ‘Lessons in Cartography’ has Andrew defending Neil to both Aaron and Jack throughout

Andrew defends Neil to non-foxes

‘Something About The Sunshine’ here

‘Warmth’ here

Foxhole Tidbits ‘Ch. 22: Silent, but Snarky’ here

‘Through A Glass Darkly’ and ‘Some Things You Just Can't Bury’ here

‘Martyr’ here

‘The Bones of You’ here

‘monsters at night’ here

‘Killer Bunny’ here 

‘you're not next before forever’ here (completed)

‘looking for you’ here

‘Give Me Another Minute (to Lay Here in Your Echo)’ here 

‘Ficlet Collection…’ ch 35-37 here

you may also like

feral protective Andrew here

protective/possessive Andrew here

overprotective Andrew here 

protective Andrew here

protective Andrew gets hurt here

protective Neil/Andrew here

jealous Andrew here

previous recs where Andrew kills Nathan here

our latest Neil & Aaron ask here

Unconventional Therapy by JostenlovesMinyard [Rated M, Twinyards Appreciation Week 2021]

Twinyard Appreciation Week - Day 2 | “bottle episode” Andrew and Aaron attend their weekly therapy session but things don’t quite go to plan when the door handle falls off and they’re stuck in there together.

tw: implied/referenced rape/nocon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Written On His Skin by hismiley16 [Not Rated, 11344 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 4 of Nothing is Safe Series

The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

this is me trying by crownowl [Not Rated, 2142 Words, Complete, 2023]

After Neil has a panic attack Andrew finds out exactly what happened when Nicky drugged Neil and he is not happy.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual kissing, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual drug use, tw: ptsd

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: violence

One Step Forward by thecompletebookworm [Rated T, 1665 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Winter 2020]

Based on the prompt: “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems” "If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?"   Dobson asked during their Wednesday session. Aaron dug his fingers into the couch.  He hated this.  Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink.   A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.  

tw: implied/referenced rape/nocon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Angry Alone by obsessivereader156 [Not Rated, 1799 Words, Complete, 2023]

“Of course I’m not homophobic, you asshole. What are you even talking about?” “Aaron, please don’t use that type of language here,” Betsy softly interjects. “You’ve been very hostile towards Neil,” Andrew says plainly, as if that’s enough of an answer. ______________________________ Aaron has been feeling angry and alone lately. Maybe he doesn't have to be alone about it.

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

A flash of anger. prompt fill by @nickyhenmick [Tumblr, 2016]

All reporters got on Andrew’s nerves. They were invasive and never asked interesting questions, and there was probably a reason he was rarely allowed to be on press duty.

a stupid ass decision prompt fill by @find-yourself-in-passion [Tumblr, 2017]

“I recognize that you have reached a decision,” Andrew replied over the top of Neil’s protests, unwrapping his right hand in such a rush that Neil knew he was going to have red marks where the tap ripped at his flesh. “Andrew-” “But given that it is a stupid ass decision,” He continued on, refusing to acknowledge the other man’s piercing gaze on him as he threw his bag and shoes in the closet, knowing what faced him when he turned around. “I have elected to ignore it.”

Art

3 & 10 art by @thematicallycoherent

im thinkin bout these two art by @wiltkingart

Safe. art by @eislekaj on instagram

exy banquet smoke break art by @twohiddenhalves

Vkook as reference art by @reyko__ on instagram

roof. andrew. tattoos. and two cigarettes. and neil. art by @puhnatsson

Someone strong to lean on art by @fornavn

[senseigrace]

Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly (Part Two)

I did NOT expect the story to blow up on here the way it did. I'm so glad you all enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoy part two!

(TW for referenced past torture.)

Lloyd slept for most of the day. The exhaustion from being unable to sleep and from being in pain made him sleep much later than he ever would have wanted to. 

When he woke up, Kai was still sitting beside him. He had a book in his hands, something that Lloyd knew that Nya had probably brought to him. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Kai said as Lloyd sat up. “How are you feeling?” 

Lloyd ran his tongue over his teeth. The fangs were still there… He wondered if they were there to stay instead of being retractable like the claws.

“A bit better,” he answered, then reached up to feel if he still had the little horns that his hair mostly covered. 

He did. 

And he knew he still had the wings. Even though his back didn’t hurt as much anymore, he could still feel the new limbs. 

He moved them slightly, still weirded out by the new sensation. It wasn’t often when he grew new limbs. 

“The others got back from their mission,” Kai said. “Zane made some food if you want any.” 

Lloyd nodded, but he wasn’t really hungry. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass for now,” he said. “Um… Do you know if Uncle Wu is around?” 

If Lloyd was being honest with himself, he didn’t really want to talk to his uncle. It wasn’t anything personal, but there had been something about Master Wu earlier that had felt off. 

“You know you don’t have to go talk to him yet if you don’t want to,” Kai told him. “I’m not gonna tell him that you’re awake and avoiding him.” 

Lloyd looked up at Kai, his mouth falling open for just a second. “I’m not avoiding him!” he protested, even though he knew his brother was right. “I’m just…” 

Kai laughed. “It’s okay, Lloyd,” he said. 

Lloyd rolled his eyes, then stood up. As much as he didn’t want to talk to his uncle, he definitely didn’t want Kai thinking that he was avoiding him. 

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” he said. 

Lloyd didn’t give Kai a chance to react, he didn’t give himself a chance to chicken out. 

He opened the door to his room and walked to his uncle’s room. 

When he reached the door, he knocked on it with a shaky hand. 

He didn’t understand why he was feeling like this. His uncle had always been kind to him, he had never judged him for who, or what, he was. There was no reason to be scared. Especially when it was something that he couldn’t even control. 

“Come in.” 

Lloyd swallowed harshly at the sound of his uncle’s voice, but opened the door and walked in regardless. 

When he shut the door behind him, his uncle smiled. 

“How did you sleep?” Master Wu asked. He was sitting on the floor, an incense burner in front of him. He looked like he always did, a kind and gentle old man who was wise beyond his years. 

Still, Lloyd hesitated by the door, his arms and wings pulled behind his back. “I slept well,” he said. “Um… You said you wanted to talk to me, Master?” 

Over the years, Lloyd had begun using Master and Uncle interchangeably. Neither one of them were wrong, but sometimes he wanted the distinction. Sometimes Wu was his master, not his uncle. 

Master Wu nodded. “I did,” he said. “Come sit down, Lloyd. Join me.” 

Lloyd obediently walked over and sat across from his uncle. His heart was beating at a hundred beats per second from the anxiety of whatever his uncle was about to say. 

So he spoke first. “Did I do something wrong?” 

A look of shock flashed in Master Wu’s golden eyes. “No, of course not,” he said. “Lloyd, you haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Lloyd let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. He knew that he had no control over what his body did, but he knew that taking the form of an Oni could never be a good thing… 

“But I do want to talk to you about your new features,” he said. 

Lloyd looked up at him. He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded. What else was there to do? 

Master Wu cleared his throat. “I owe you an explanation,” he said. “And an apology.” 

Lloyd’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Why was he trying to apologize to him? He was the one who randomly turned into some sort of hybrid freak. “Uncle?” 

“I had known that this day would come for a long time, however the Tomorrow’s Tea changed my timeline quite a bit,” Master Wu said. “I should have prepared you for this, and yet I did not. I kept it to myself and I never should have done that to you. I’m sorry, nephew.” 

Lloyd looked down at his hands. Earlier, there had been claws instead of fingertips. They had been sharper than swords… “I don’t understand.”

“Lloyd, you are so much more than meets the eye,” Master Wu said. “You are an Oni, Dragon, and Human hybrid. It means that you will go through changes to represent all three sides of your heritage, you’ll live a longer life, and you’ll have the powers of creation and destruction as well as your element of Energy.” 

Lloyd swallowed. “I already knew that I was a hybrid,” he said. “But why did it show up? Why am I like this now?” 

Master Wu sighed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “As I said, the Tomorrow’s Tea changed a lot for you.” 

He hated thinking about the Tomorrow’s Tea. It hadn’t ruined his life, but it was a fair source of trauma that he didn’t like to think about. He had tried to make peace with the fact that he had been aged up so unfairly, but whenever he thought it was okay, something brought it back up. 

Lloyd looked up at his uncle. “Will anything else change?” he asked. “I’m not… I’m not gonna end up like Garmadon, right?” 

At the mention of his brother, Master Wu flinched. “Lloyd…” he said softly. “His Oni genetics were not the cause of his evil, that was because of the venom of the Devourer. Yes, the man that was brought back is all Oni, but he is also only the evil side of your father.” 

Lloyd felt his eyes begin to burn. He had been told that all of his life, but when Garmadon had been brought back… He couldn’t help but wonder if the evil was caused by more than just venom from an evil snake… 

“I’m sorry, Uncle…” he whispered. 

Master Wu sighed. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I did not mean for this to become a lecture on your father. Even if he does possess many of the Oni characteristics that you perhaps will inherit.” 

Lloyd nodded and looked down at his hands. “I just don’t know what to do, Master Wu…” he said, and he hated himself for the way his voice cracked. “I don’t know if I need to hide this part of me or if I should… I dunno…” 

“It is perfectly acceptable not to know things, nephew,” he told him. “I certainly didn’t know what to do when I had my first experience with my Dragon side.” 

Lloyd looked back up at Master Wu and tilted his head. In the midst of everything else, he had somehow forgotten that his uncle was also not a human. He was just as supernatural as he was, if not more. 

“May I see your wings?” Master Wu asked. 

Lloyd nodded his head. He had no problem with his uncle inspecting his wings. After all, he was probably the only person in all of Ninjago who had any idea what wings on a human should look like. 

Lloyd sat up straight and allowed Master Wu to extend his wings all of the way out, to inspect the newly formed joints on his back, to touch the sensitive scales… 

His touch was the same gentle one that had cleaned many wounds and wiped so many tears out of his eyes, but Lloyd couldn’t have been more relieved when the poking and prodding was finally done. 

“They look healthy and strong for a pair of new wings,” Master Wu said as he sat back down. “If they continue to grow like they are, then I have no doubt that you’ll be able to fly by your next birthday.” 

Lloyd couldn’t hold back a gasp at that. Of all of the things that he would be able to do, flying had always been one of his favorites. Of course, he used to be able to summon an elemental dragon, but after everything that had happened… 

That wasn’t important. 

He had wings now. He could fly. 

Well, not yet, but one day. 

Then a thought popped into his head, one that wasn’t related to him, but to his uncle. 

Master Wu was more Dragon and Oni than he was, and yet… He didn’t look like it. Not in the same way that Lloyd did. 

Lloyd leaned forward towards his uncle. “Do you have wings, Uncle Wu?” 

For a second, the question seemed to shock Master Wu, his expression completely unreadable for a second. And then he smiled sadly at Lloyd, his golden eyes filled with a sorrow like Lloyd had never seen before. 

“I did.” 

It took a second for Lloyd's brain to register what his uncle meant, but then his eyes widened. “You mean..?” 

Master Wu let out a shuddering sigh. “I had them when I was your age, and I was so proud of them. After all, they were stronger and brighter than Garmadon’s were. But then…” he stopped and a dark expression took over his face. 

Slowly, two and two were being put together and Lloyd’s stomach flipped. 

“Nephew, we’re in a unique position. Our heritage is what makes us strong, but it’s also what makes people hunt us down,” he said. “They took me and I… I couldn’t fight them off.” 

Master Wu frowned and looked down. “They cut them off,” he said. “There was nothing my father could do to fix them.” 

Lloyd heard a strangled cry come out of his throat, but he hardly processed it. 

Someone had cut off his uncle’s wings. Master Wu had been hunted down and tortured. They had taken something that he loved away from him. 

He could feel the tears burning his eyes as his mind began to spiral. 

Lloyd had been captured so many times before, but would he be targeted more now? He no longer had the protection of looking human. He couldn’t blend in anymore now. 

“I.. I,” he stuttered as he pushed himself away from his uncle. “I don’t wanna lose…” 

Master Wu reached out and grabbed both of Lloyd’s hands. He held them tightly in his own warm hands. “Lloyd, look at me.” 

Lloyd looked up at his uncle’s gentle golden eyes. He didn’t say anything though, he couldn’t even come up with any words to say. 

“I will never let that happen to you, nephew,” Master Wu told him. “I promise.” 

Lloyd wanted to protest. He had been kidnapped by snakes, had his Power Drained by The Overlord, possessed by Morro… There was so much more too. 

No one could truly protect him, not even himself. 

However, Lloyd found himself nodding at his uncle’s promise. The idea of blissful ignorance to the truth was much more appealing than the reality. 

“If you wish, I can teach you more about your heritage,” Master Wu told him. “And even though I cannot fly anymore, I can teach you when the time comes.” 

Lloyd wiped the tears out of his eyes and nodded at his uncle. His uncle had been there for him for so long. He had been the first kind person who had interacted with him in years after he had taken him in. 

“Really?” he asked. 

Master Wu nodded. “Of course,” he said.

A smile found its way onto Lloyd’s face, and he knew that his newly acquired fangs were probably showing, but he didn’t care. “I’d love that.” 

Master Wu grinned, and Lloyd noticed that his teeth were more pointy than normal for the first time. “We’ll start first thing in the morning then.”

[nikodimopoulos]

save me from the dark ;;

LOCATION: an abandoned building near the california border FEATURING: niko dimopoulos, @stefanosxdimopoulos, @heyymikki

MENTIONED: @elliottortegax, @giovanniiricci, titan dimopoulos

TW: blood, death, mentions of torture, guns, etc

The hours ticked by one after the other, and while Nikolaos Dimopoulos was not the type to stand idly by, he'd recognized the importance of giving the benefit of the doubt from time to time -- at least when it came to his relationship. But at a certain point, at the twelfth hour of no word from Mikayla during her 'business trip' to Las Vegas, the location she'd shared from her phone still stagnant in it's position at the hotel she'd be staying at past checkout, he knew that something had to be very, very wrong. Though concern, worry, fear struck him to his core once the realization hit, he remained calm.

The type of calm that was often unsettling.

The first step was calling the hotel, offering up the name Mikayla typically used as she 'worked' under the guise of her personal assistant in need of an invoice. Thankfully, to his luck or perhaps his uncanny ability to sound convincing over the phone, it only took moments for the detailed receipt to be sent right to his inbox where he saw – Endeavor Property Holdings. Immediately his mind sprung back to the only place where he'd ever seen that name: Mikayla's article.

Jaw clenched tightly, his composure slipping for the briefest moment as he abruptly stood, the kitchen chair he'd been sitting on immediately toppling to the ground from the sheer force. Giovanni. This was all his doing, the silent waiting game they'd been playing for weeks now finally coming to a head.

He should have known, should have suspected this could be a trap. Foolish of him to think Giovanni wouldn't step outside the town line to conduct his sadistic fucking mischief, if only because he rarely did himself in all his years with Los Santos.

Moving to the office, he opened up his laptop and did a quick search for Endeavor Property Holdings, writing down each address registered with the company, cross referencing with the current operations, how long they'd been in business, any particular financials...until he came to an unusual one. A building that'd housed a small furniture store for a few years before closing up shop, and yet the address -- the Las Vegas address -- was still registered to the company.

Even better, Endeavor Property Holdings had been actively making payments this entire time.

This had to be it. And, if not it, then at the very least something.

Moving over to his bedroom closet, the male opened up his gun locker and pulled out two semi-automatic handguns, as well as a bulletproof vest, tactically strapping them to his person before pulling out his phone and dialing the only person he knew he could trust.

There was a temptation for Stef to just let his phone ring, irritation building at the sound of it vibrating as he pulled it from the pocket. Squinting at the screen in annoyance he only answered once he saw the caller ID.

"I need you for a job." Niko said by way of greeting, knowing Stefanos was the last person in the family that would take offense to his urgency. Closing up the gun locker, he pulled a thick shirt over the vest, along with a dark colored jacket, heading out of his room and towards the door.

There's relief rather than offense at the lack of pleasantries between them when Stef always preferred to get to the point. It's shown in his brief response, though part of him considered it something that his cousin should already know. "You got me."

"Small operation, but bound to be bloody. I'll explain on the way." Niko didn't expect Giovanni would house a lot of men wherever Mikayla was being kept. If anything, the less eyes, the better, even if this entire thing was sloppy. Perhaps the CEO was getting desperate. 

“Is it gonna be a long one?” Stefanos’ question wasn’t asked out of concern for himself, not when as long as he had time left to give it’d be given to his family without a second thought. Niko could have as much time as he needed, though the urgency in his voice seemed to suggest that time was of the essence.

“It’s ninety minutes out,” Niko replied, “if we’re smart we should be in and out in less than an hour. I’ll be there in five.”

Stef’s mind had gone to his dog, reluctant to leave him alone in case they got tied up, especially when the malinois had taken after his master a little too much with how few people he liked. But a plan was already forming in his mind without really waiting for Niko's response. “I’ll get someone to stop by for Titan.”

Stef fired off a text to his neighbour and with the minor obstacle now taken care of, the man sprung into motion. Vague grunt of acknowledgement was given to the few details that Niko provided, pulling out what he needed from his tightly organised closet accordingly. Nondescript clothes and a bulletproof vest. Guns and rounds were then stashed on his person, even picking up a small knife in case it ended up getting a little more up close and personal.

"And Stef? It's...personal," Niko swallowed thickly, getting into his car. "But I need you to prepare as a professional. Got it?" He spoke as he drove, his mind racing as fast as he sped down the highway as he worked to connect the dots, to strategize with the very limited amount of information that he had. Despite the worry – dare he say, the fear – that gripped at his chest in anticipation for the state Mikayla might be in, the brutality she must be experiencing, he kept a level head, a calm disposition. The last thing he needed was to lose his grip, and he was confident that with Stef by his side he could do just that. 

Another might have paused at Niko's next words, shown some hesitation or surprise at hearing the admission, pressed for details or remarked on the way that his voice seemed to have grown tight with emotion. But not Stefanos. He barely missed a beat before uttering his clipped reply of “Say no more.” 

The pair of them had always been similar enough that he felt safe predicting how his cousin might feel. If his twin had been his other half, possessing all the traits that he lacked, then Niko was his mirror image reflecting so much of himself back at him. It was maybe an assumption that the other would feel uncomfortable with his brief display of emotion but Stefanos knew that if their roles were reversed he'd have wanted to move on from the vulnerability of it immediately.

Final check was given to the space around him, ensuring he had what he needed for whatever lay ahead of them. Satisfied he was prepared enough for what they would face, he locked up and waited on his porch. “I’m ready.”

At five minutes on the dot Niko was pulling up to Stef’s place, and only moments later they back on the road and heading west, close to the California border. Silence fell over their drive at first, the former capo attempting to collect his thoughts before deciding it was time to give his cousin an explanation – at the very least, it would provide insight into what they were doing. The why of it all didn’t typically matter; whether it was Stef’s call or his call, there was an innate trust between them where they knew that whatever they were doing was necessary.

“You saw that article that came out a few weeks ago. In the Tribune, about Giovanni Ricci.” It wasn’t a question – of course he did. Stef had his ear to the ground just like he had. “The person who wrote it, she’s my girlfriend.” Niko’s eyes briefly flickered over to the other male, knowing that he’d divulged he’d been seeing someone but leaving it at that. “She went to Vegas last night, was supposed to be back this afternoon. I did some digging. I think he’s got her.” 

Niko shook his head. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to take her for payback alone, I think he’s probably trying to get her to reveal her sources. She’s just stubborn enough not to give ‘em to him.” A slight, humorous scoff fell from his lips, his expression turning dark only a moment later. “I’m not planning on leaving anyone in there alive.”

Stef had little to say in response to Niko's revelations on their drive over, hardly feeling as though there was any need for his additions. Acknowledgement had been given when it was needed, the odd nod or grunt, finally speaking only when his cousin had made his intentions for the kidnappers clear. "You got it."

–

The building was a far cry from the boutique furniture store that was shown on a few old Google photos, but it hadn’t been hard to find. He turned his headlights off and parked on the very edge of the lot, Niko’s Bentley shrouded in darkness as the two of them cased the joint.

Two Escalades parked right beside the building, yet no one inhabited them. Gun drawn, Niko motioned for Stef to follow him toward the back door, pressing his ear against the cool exterior. Immediately he could hear the sound of two men speaking, the aloof, casual cadence of their voices causing him to tense up in anger.

A shoulder against the door frame, Niko held up two fingers to his cousin and then pointed towards the door, before motioning for him to come closer. His finger moved to rest on the trigger, his free hand wrapping around the metal knob, and he nodded towards Stef before swiftly opening the door and shooting the man on the left square in the chest whilst the other took the man on the right. 

Swift nod was given in response to Niko's instruction. Stef could practically feel the tension rolling off his kin. The stakes were high and emotions along with them but Stefanos had always been able to play at being the calm in any storm. Shifting so that he could take aim through the ajar door, he lifted his gun and pointed it where his cousin wanted, exhaled and shot. The thud he heard moments later signifying that he'd hit his target.

“Clean.” Niko complimented Stef as he stepped over the bodies, his boots narrowly missing the pool of blood beginning to expand out on the floor.

"Always." Humourless smile tugged at the corner of Stef’s mouth after his quip left it. Taking the life of another maybe should have been a heavier thing - the weight of a life was supposed to be something he carried around with him, wasn't it? - but Stefanos had pulled the trigger enough times it felt almost as natural as breathing. Nothing more than a reflex, an instinct now.

There'd be time for overdue guilt one day but in that moment he only cared about doing what Niko needed. 

Niko’s ears perked up upon hearing the sounds of frantic footsteps above them, and he nodded towards the stairs and began to ascend. Obviously these men were pure grunts, no substance by how frantically they seemed to be moving about. 

The sounds of gunshots were unmistakable, and they were getting closer. Mikayla should have felt some sort of relief that someone was coming for her, but the man in front of her eyes went wide with fear, a similar feeling taking her over. People did reckless things when they were nervous or afraid, and the gun in his hand and the frantic gaze between her and the hallway was enough to tell her this might not end well for someone. There was nothing she could do, her hands and feet bound to the chair beneath her – though even if they weren’t, the bruises and swelling around her body surely would’ve made escaping past the two men nearly impossible.

“You can get away before they get here,” she murmured in an even tone, hoping to reason with them. “You won’t get out alive if you don’t.”

“Shut up!” the second man hissed. In a few long strides, he made his way across the room to her, slamming the butt of the gun against her head and moving the gag back into place.

Once upstairs, Niko turned the corner to see one of the doors slightly ajar, raising his weapon and slowly pressing forward until he was beside the door frame. Through the opening, a man stood with his gun drawn, facing towards the inside of the room as he shouted commands to what sounded like another person. Brows narrowed and he listened a bit closer, the groans of a woman under duress becoming more and more apparent. He swallowed thickly. Mikayla.

“You.” Niko mouthed to Stef, gesturing to the man in the sliver of the doorway, squatting down low to give him a clear shot. “And then we…” He clenched his fist, motioning towards the room. Once he was confident that his cousin had the shot, he held his head down to allow him to take it, pushing into the room a moment later.

Standing tall, Niko pointed the gun at the forehead of the first man – the only man – that he saw, jaw clenched tightly as he realized that he was pointing his gun elsewhere; right at a bound and gagged Mikayla’s head.

Mikayla was afraid to move, to speak. The instinct to plead for her life grew more with each tense passing moment. She looked at the two men, one unfamiliar but looking so much like her boyfriend he could only be one of his many cousins, and then her eyes locked on Niko’s. She could feel the trickle of blood through her hair down the back of her neck, head swimming from the earlier impact.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle!” The grunt shouted, pushing the gun further against her temple. Quickly, Niko was able to deduce two things: one, based on his body language he could tell that this guy was nervous. He wasn’t told that there was a possibility of violence. In fact, none of this was anticipated – at least not this quickly. Two, there had been more people here only moments ago, judging by the way the room had been laid out. Perhaps Giovanni himself had also been here, perhaps they could even catch him if they moved fast enough.

However, for once in his life Niko wasn’t thinking about the smartest thing to do. He was thinking of what he wanted to do.

Stef moved into the room behind his cousin, instantly coming to a stop as he took in the scene before him. Brief internal debate waged, wondering if he should try to go after the others but the idea was quickly shot down when he caught how jumpy the kidnapper looked. One sharp movement from either of them could end in tragedy.

So he stayed still, reading both the kidnapper and his cousin's body language, never for a second doubting that Niko didn't have the situation under control. 

A sigh escaping him, Niko met Mikayla’s gaze for a brief moment, attempting not to fixate on all the pain and anguish evident in her wide-eyed stare. Stay calm. Don’t get emotional. “Close your eyes.” Niko advised her sternly. He looked back up at the man, a cruel grin twitching at the corners of his lips as he shook his head. 

“Amateur.” 

Niko took the shot, the bullet immediately piercing the kidnapper’s forehead and propelling his body backwards, blood spurting in all directions. Mikayla flinched as the gunshot echoed off the walls, blood and gore splattering across her face. A stillness fell over the room, and Niko quickly cased the area before calling back to Stef. “It’s done!”

Niko let out a large breath, pushing his gun back in his holster before switching gears, immediately moving to tend to Mikayla. “You’re okay, baby – hey, you’re okay.” His tone was soft, calm as he began to undo her binds, removing the one from her mouth first before working on her wrists, her ankles. “I’ve got you.” Once undone, he knelt down, meeting her at eye level and taking her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the fresh blood that had just been spilled from her cheek. “It’s over, it’s done.”

Mikki’s whole body shook, the adrenaline of the moment coursing through her veins and washing the fear along with it. She had never stared death in the face in the same way she had tonight, and though she knew Niko had blood on his hands from his past, knowing and seeing it for herself were two very different things. He was lethal, and all of the warnings he had given her before about the kind of person he was finally felt real.

A sob ripped forth from her throat and she threw her arms around him, holding on for dear life. “I’m so-sorry. I-I-I shouldn’--” her voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have come tonight...”

Niko shook his head, squeezing her tightly, securely, in his arms. “This isn’t on you.” He assured quietly, his own cheek now stained from the blood that matted her dark locks. “None of this is on you.”

Feeling too much like an intruder to a private moment as Niko's attention shifted to his girlfriend, Stef made his way through the room towards where others might have made their escape. Methodically he checked the rooms finding them all empty - bar one. Two men lay within the last room, one with a gun in his hand, the other tied to a chair looking worse for wear. Decision was made quickly, shot fired at the kidnapper before checking on the man in the chair. There was a vague sense of familiarity that reassured him that he’d made the correct choice, relief felt when he could feel a pulse beating in the other’s neck. With a sigh he threw the man’s arm over his shoulder, balancing his weight before he made his way slowly back towards the lovebirds. 

He made sure his footsteps were heavy on his approach, not wanting to startle them or interrupt at the worst possible moment. Clearing his throat as he re-entered, Stefanos cut straight to the point, though the man he was propping up would likely have drawn attention regardless. "Assuming he’s with you?” Brow raised, question aimed at the woman before gaze moved back towards his cousin, confirming that there was no one else left to worry about.

Niko turned to look at Stef, another heavy sigh escaping him as he recognized the man passed out at his side. “Ah, shit.” He muttered. 

Hearing Stef’s footsteps, Mikayla looked up in time to see the man dragging an unconscious Elliott into the room. Another sob left her and she nodded, moving to stand and stumbling in the process. “Oh my god, what did they do to him? Is he alive?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead making her way to them and checking for herself. He was beaten and bloody, probably as much as she was, but he was alive. That’s what mattered.

“He’s breathing,” Niko assured, following close behind Mikayla and wrapping a hand around her arm, pulling her closer to him in an attempt to keep her steady. He could imagine adrenaline was coursing through her at a mile a minute, knowing that she’d more than likely be in absolute anguish once that wore off.

“No sign of anyone else." Stef’s eyes traveled over the room, wondering if there'd be anything useful that they should pick up. But even with the option of evidence he had no desire for them to linger. "We should get out of here."

Niko nodded. “You get him in the back seat, make sure he’s still breathing.” His eyes flickered between Elliott and Mikayla. “They’re both going to need medical attention. We’ll tell the docs in the ER that they were mugged.” As much as Niko preferred to avoid formal hospital settings considering the risk of police intervention, he knew it was warranted here.

Taking one last glance around the room, Niko steeled himself and gently lifted Mikayla up in his arms. He met his cousin's gaze, giving him a knowing look – one that expressed all the gratitude that he wasn’t able to verbalize at that moment – before nodding to the door.

“Come on, let’s go.”

[kaufmann-6]

Oh, hiiii! It was about time I made an official introduction to my blog!

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm Kaufmann, but you can call me Kauf! I'm a writer on ao3, an avid fic reader and a pianist!

ᓚᘏᗢ I like to reblog some of my favorite fandoms content, like PJO, Batfam and TUA on this blog and share my fics. (feel free to send me writing prompts and headcanons from the fandoms I'll list below, I'd love a challenge!)

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm also open to fic colabs and friendly chat. You have my permission to remix, translate, make podfics and/or fanarts out of my works but please tag me when posting here on tumblr. You can also post on ao3 using the "inspired by" or gift feature. (do not post content based on my works out of ao3 and tumblr)

ᓚᘏᗢ Did you know I'm the owner of a Jasico Discord server? I host creative challenges on @jasico-challenges and decided to create a Discord so people can talk about the events, Jasico, and random PJO! You're welcome to join by clicking this invite link.

ᓚᘏᗢ --------------------- >

ᓚᘏᗢ I go by Kaufmann on AO3. Here are some things that I've written:

The Umbrella Academy

ᓚᘏᗢ Absence → A remix fic I wrote for @tua-masked-author based out of @littlerit's amazing work, The Time Traveler's Life. It's Klaus pov of his 14th birthday and Five's multiple appearances. Angsty.

ᓚᘏᗢ If Only → An AU in which Patch didn't notice Five's van across the street and Cha-Cha got tired of waiting so she kills Klaus on S1E4.

ᓚᘏᗢ Bubble Thoughts → Another @tua-masked-author entry, an older one this time. It's a post-S3 fic in which Klaus reflects on his father's betrayal and his actions in that season. Luther helps him cope.

ᓚᘏᗢ I can die when I'm done. → Written for @tua-masked-author first edition! It's a missing scene fic from when Klaus was locked in that tiny motel closet in S1 when Hazel and Cha-Cha left to blow up Meritech. Character study, internal monologue. Lots of Angst & Hurt/No Comfort.

ᓚᘏᗢ The Bargain → An old wip that I really should pick up again. It's an AU in which the Handler decided to use Five's love for his siblings against him and uses Klaus as a hostage to get Five to work for her on S1E5. TW: SA.

DC Batman

ᓚᘏᗢ 'Cause you all try to keep me down → This fic was written for @febuwhump 2024. In this one, Black Mask kidnaps Red Hood and Red Robin and Jason is forced to watch Tim get tortured by the man who hates him the most. TW: Whump & eletric shock torture.

ᓚᘏᗢ I'm absolutely obsessed with Jason Todd at the moment and have so many fic ideas, including a Time Traveller's Wife AU coming up soon. Stay tunned!

Riordanverse (PJO, HOO, TOA)

ᓚᘏᗢ Oh, ho, the mistletoe (is hung where you can see) → Jasico Imprint Soulmate AU written for @jasico-challenges's Bingo Challenges 2024. Between flashbacks from the past, nightmares and christmas presents, Jason and Nico figure out how to tell their friends the truth about their relationship.

ᓚᘏᗢ If you had one more chance → Jasico fic for the Percy Jackson Gift Exchange Autum Equinox 2023. Nico struggles after Jason's death and decides to risk everything to bring him back. Orpheus & Euridyce style.

ᓚᘏᗢ Every Breath You Take → Jercy fic written for the Percy Jackson Gift Exchange Winter Solstice 2022. Percy and Jason are secretly pining for each other. In a road trip across the country, they finally face their feelings, but not withought some angst and jelously in the middle.

ᓚᘏᗢ It Doesn't Matter Anymore → A Jason Grace character study from when he was stuck in the wind prison in TOA. What was he thinking on his very last moments? Angst and Hurt/No Comfort. TW: Major character death & implied/referenced suicide.

ᓚᘏᗢ --------------------- >

I've written fics of some other fandoms like Maze Runner and I Am Not Okay With This but the fadoms above are the ones I'm still active in.

If you'd like to send a writing prompt or to make a request, here's my Bad Things Happen Bingo card, I'm accepting Jason Todd & Batfamily requests.

[thevegandarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Two

Masterlist

AO3 link

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

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

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

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

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, mention of amputation

Word count: 2.1k

Aaron and I stayed in that shed for probably two hours. He told me about his S.O. Eric and how they got separated, how he hoped that Eric had made it back safely. He told me about some of the people in Alexandria, how this large group of ragtag misfits had come together to form one giant family. There was power and water and food and shelter.

Alexandria sounded like a dream.

At some point, he took a lengthy nap, which I used as time to write. During my residency and throughout this last year and a half, the only hobby I had & thing that managed to keep me semi-sane was writing. I came to love writing poetry in med school & had journals upon journals filled to the brim with my work stuffed into my bedroom closet on a small shelf. I wish I could have brought even a few of them with me.

After he woke up, I gave him some more of my water and a little bit of my food. He pulled at the corner of the silver bag, stopping to read the text on the front.

“Is this fucking freeze-dried ice cream?” Aaron asked, laughing as he tore the corner off the bag.

“My dad was an astronaut. You don’t wanna know how much of that shit was stacked in closets in his office. I took all that would fit into my backpack before I started making my way out here,” I responded. He pulled the small, hard Neapolitan brick out of the bag, taking a bite out of the corner.

“Can I be frank?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“This tastes like shit,” he chuckled. I laughed in response.

“It does, but it’s food. I’ve been living off of that for the last year and a half. And any random cans I’ve found along the way,” I said, “I haven’t kept track of time, but it feels like it’s been months since I had food that wasn’t freeze-dried.”

“Well, once we get back, we’ll get you taken care of,” he told me. I suppressed my squee of joy and instead let it spread across my face in a gigantic grin.

After a little more time talking, he seemed like he had gotten enough strength back to slowly head back to Alexandria. I grabbed my spear and put it under my arm, propping myself up onto my feet.

“Alright, we’re gonna get you on your…” I caught the word I was going to say in my mouth, “foot…and take as long as we need to get back. Is there any chance some people could be sent out looking for you?” I put my arm around him again, and he put his weight onto his foot to push himself into a standing position. He then distributed his weight between his foot and on me.

“I mean, there’s a chance, but only if Eric made it back and told them what happened,” he told me. I unsheathed my spear to use as a walking stick, the sharp end pointing to the sky. We hobbled slowly to the door, and I had him stop and rest on a table.

“Let me make sure it’s clear.” I swung the door open and walked the perimeter of the small shed, listening and making sure there weren’t any Walkers nearby. I found a large stick on the ground for Aaron to use, picking it up and bringing it back to him. “Here, use this.” He took it in his free hand and gave me a nod. I grabbed him again, and after slipping through the door, I let him lead the way to the road.

“So you’ve obviously got medical skills. What’s your combat experience like?”

We hobbled along the road, me telling him about my brothers and my family and how I’d been alone all this time. Never had a group. There was the occasional Walker, which I would take care of with my spear. It was a peaceful walk for the most part.

After a couple of hours, I could see a wall through the trees. Aaron’s face lit up, as did mine. The two people on either side of what I assumed was the front gate raised their guns in our direction, keeping them poised. After we were out of the trees, they dropped their weapons when they realized it was Aaron.

“He’s back!” one of them shouted. One of them signaled to someone I couldn’t see, and they started opening the gate. A blonde man slipped through the small gap in the gate like butter and began running over.

“Eric!” Aaron yelled, starting to pick up his pace a little. Eric ran over at mach speed, embracing Aaron in a vice grip the second they touched. I pushed forward on Aaron to keep both of them from falling over. One of the two started making their way towards us, the other walking off towards the side to the trees. I was so enamored by Eric and Aaron that I didn’t even see him coming up behind me.

“No, no she’s with me!” Aaron screamed behind him. Before I could fully process what was happening, the back of my head was struck, the pain vibrating across my face and down my neck. I could feel myself falling forward, and everything turned black before I hit the ground.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I slowly opened my eyes. Wherever I was was very bright, and the light was blinding. The back of my head was pulsating, each throb matching my heartbeat. I was sat upright, I could tell that much. After several rounds of blinking, I was able to open my eyes.

“She’s awake,” I heard a man’s voice say. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I realized I was in some kind of small cell. The first thing I noticed was a man sitting in front of me. He was leaned back in a chair, one leg propped up onto the other. He looked cool as a cucumber as he held his crossbow up, pointed right at me.

His voice was like gravel in my ears. And I liked it.

I practically fell over jumping up to my feet, putting my hands up at my sides. I backed up into the far corner. Looking around the room, I saw a few more people come in, each one taking a seat either in a chair or on a set of steps.

“Ya got other weapons on ya, sunshine?” the man with the crossbow asked me. I chuckled a little. I was wearing a black cropped tank and a skort where a portion of the front skirt part was missing. My clothes were small and fitted, so I don’t know where else they thought I could store a weapon.

“Look at me,” I said, shaking my hips a little and twirling in a circle, “where could I possibly store another weapon, up my p—“

The three women in the group giggled at my comment. “Shut up and sit down,” another man instructed. This one was wearing a cowboy hat and had a star-shaped badge pinned to his chest. The way this man spoke indicated that he was some sort of authority figure in this group.

“Could call it a pussy knife,” I said under my breath as I sat down on the small bench against the back wall of the cell.

“You’re gonna start with telling us who you are and what happened to Aaron,” he instructed. I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest, examining the group. There was the one with the crossbow, the sheriff with an attitude, a woman with grey hair, an Asian guy, another woman with short hair who looked around my age or a little older, and a Black woman with dreads, probably also not much older than me.

“What’s your name, cowboy?” I asked the sheriff, sass lacing my voice, “y’know, so I can address you properly.”

“Rick,” he told me, “Rick Grimes.”

“Well Rick, have you talked to Aaron yet?”

“You’ll give us your story first, then we’ll make sure it matches his.”

“Can I have my stuff back?”

“You might get it back, depending on whether or not I like your answer.” I met his gaze and sighed.

Fuck cops.

“I’m Vector, and I think I’m 32, depending on what month it is. I’m a trauma surgeon. Well, I had a month left of my residency when…all of this started. I was at Johns Hopkins for my residency and going home to see family for vacation. I had hardly left the hospital when people started evacuating. I decided to drive all the way back home where I found out that one of brothers had already lost his life. I, umm…”

I paused, trying to find my wording without letting my emotions get the best of me, “had to put him out of his misery. After some wandering, I found out about Alexandria, and…here I am. Got lucky enough to find Aaron. He got bit, by the way. I had just woken up and he was getting attacked nearby, which I saved him from. You’re welcome. I carry medical supplies on me, so I got him to safety, amputated his foot, patched him up, and here we are.”

“He said you gave him food and water?” Rick said. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

“So you have talked to him?” I scoffed, “and yes I did. I could’ve just killed him, or taken his stuff and ran, but I didn’t. Because I’m a doctor, and he needed help. That’s what I do.” There was a silence that hovered over us for what felt like ages. It felt like they were reading me, trying to gauge whether or not I was telling the truth. Meanwhile, the one with the crossbow hadn’t let up once.

“What kind of doctor did you say you were?” the woman with the grey hair asked.

“I’m a trauma surgeon. I was working in the ER before all this. I amputated limbs, put limbs back on, did organ transplants. I saw gunshot wounds, third-degree burns. You name it, I’ve probably done it,” I explained, “actually, my plan after completing my residency and getting a few years under my belt was to eventually join Doctors Without Borders, but now we’re here.”

“That’s uh…wow, that’s really commendable,” Rick stated, a small smile crossing his face. I nodded. “Do you have a group that would be looking for you?”

“No, I’ve never had a group. Just me, the pack on my back, and my own thoughts,” I explained, pointing to my head. The group looked surprised by what I said.

“You’ve survived by yourself this whole time?” he asked me, sounding surprised. I nodded.

“Never wanted to join anyone. I had my heart set on Alexandria from the moment I heard about it. Sometimes I would come across people, like I did Aaron, and I would offer my medical services and take off. Never really stuck around one place for too long.”

“Well that’s very trusting of you,” Rick commented, “how has that worked out?” I bit my lip to keep myself from wincing at the memories from that day.

“Well, for the most part,” I said. I rubbed at the rope scars on my wrists in a way that I hoped was discreet, “I mean, I’ve made it this long on my own, right?”

“What are your combat skills like?” he questioned. I had to suppress my laughter.

“I grew up with three older brothers…all Navy SEALs…they taught me everything they knew.” I leaned forward between the bars, locking eyes with Rick. “I’ll let you guess how my combat skills are.” The man with the crossbow made a face, though I couldn’t decipher what it meant. Rick seemed to take notice.

“Would you like her to demonstrate, Daryl?”

“Yeah, would you like me to demonstrate, Daryl?” I smirked, “I could kick you in the balls, bring you to your knees, and knee you in the face. Don’t need to be a Navy SEAL to know how to do that.”

“I like her,” the woman with the short hair said, laughing.

“Ya just tiny s’all,” Daryl commented. His Southern drawl and gravel-laced voice made me weak, though I didn’t let it show.

“I’m like 5’7”, I am not tiny,” I retorted, “and can you tell him to stop pointing that thing at me? I’m clearly not going to hurt anyone from in here.” Rick nodded to Daryl, who finally lowered his bow. “Thank you.” He then turned to the Asian man to his left, who got up and came over toward my cell, unlocking it and swinging the door open. I hesitated for a moment before stepping out, scanning my eyes across the group.

“Sooooo…does this mean I get to stay?” I asked, a small but enthusiastic smile crossing my face, “I promise I’ll be useful. Sassy, but useful.”

“Yes,” Rick said, “Welcome to Alexandria.”

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 20

Path of Comfort Prompt; Alt. "Gentle Touch"

Day 20 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Caretaker: Gawain - The Green Knight

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 607

TWs; Tending to wounds, referenced self-flagellation, lashings

"I can help, if you'd like?"

Lancelot looked up to see Gawain standing at the entrance of their tent. Too preoccupied attempting to fold himself like an origami bird in order to salve the wounds on his back, he hadn't noticed the Green Knight's approach.

"I can... do it..." Lancelot huffed, cheeks flaming in embarassment at being caught like this.

Gawain held his hands up in mock surrender, ducking past him further into the tent. Lancelot heard the telltale signs of water being poured into the washbasin, the methodical scrape of knife against cheek as the Knight began to shave.

After several more minutes of wishing he had eyes in the back of his head, or perhaps that he could detatch one of his arms, Lancelot had managed to smear salve on approximately four-and-a-half of the lashings, as well as into his hair somehow and all up one of his arms.

Lancelot sighed, raising his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea for mercy, glancing back when he heard the knife thud softly as Gawain placed it down and stood.

"Let me."

Lancelot sighed again, but begrudingly nodded permission, willing himself to relax though he found it nigh on impossible. It was strange, he thought, the difference in how willing he was to hurt himself unhesitatingly, yet waiting for pain given by another had him arguably more nervous.

As anticipated, Gawain's touch was indeed painful. Lancelot couldn't help but tense to keep still despite trying not to react at all.

Lancelot was, by nature, intimately familiar with pain. This sensation at a base level was indeed the same as ever, yet it had a depth to it most unlike anything he had experienced before, the gentleness of how Gawain tended to him... 

It was oddly comforting. Soothing even.

"Gods, I wish all my patients were as well behaved as you are..."

"Well... behaved?" Lancelot repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Gawain chuckled behind him.

"Aye. They never stay so bloody still."

Lancelot heard a distinctly impressed note in Gawain's voice, unable to resist closing his eyes to the feel of Gawain's soft but sure touches. Unbidden, he wondered if Gawain had a lover somewhere. He'd certainly revealed nothing of himself despite being tortured, yet it felt too personal a question for Lancelot to ask, so he remained silent. He knew Fey had odd customs, not least that it made no difference to most if one was man or woman, or even both, neither, or somewhere in between. Perhaps his lover was a man, given the ease with which his hands roamed Lancelot's back...

"Is it nice where you are?" Gawain asked, mildly.

"I- What?" 

"Is it nice? In your thoughts. You look very... lost in them." 

Lancelot didn't have an answer for that, but gave a wry laugh all the same. Usually, the answer was a quite definite no. Sometimes he'd rather be anywhere but in his own head.

In this instance he certainly had zero intentions of admitting he'd been pondering whether or not the Green Knight was single... Yet the way in which he'd spoken suggested Gawain may have guessed at their subject. 

You're just being paranoid now...

Now that his mind had gone down this particular road, he couldn't deny Gawain's gentle touch was beginning to set a fire through his veins, something else he daren't say. He bit back an involuntary groan as pain mingled with pleasure.

"Sorry, Ashman."

Lancelot smiled slightly at the apology, as unneeded as it was it was nice of Gawain to offer it. Perhaps if he focused on the pain, it would stop his traitorous mind from wandering...

Whoops, posted this one REAL early, yes I was meant to put it in my drafts for tomorrow when I'm at work, no, I did not in fact click "save to drafts"... oops.

An alternate prompt because I was really struggling to write for the given prompts, but I had two ideas I couldn't pick between for Day 23 so I wrote one of them for today!

As always, thanks for reading, onto the next!