#his own blood on himself someone else's blood on him cuts and bruises and wounds and stitches in a lot of places | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ms-fade · 3 months

Text

Patch Up

Older!Luke Castellan x fem!reader. 18+ drabble.

Request: What about luke x reader (whatever Godly parent) but the reader helps out in the medic Station so he gets a little cut while training so he can get stiched up by her, which leads into him fucking her in the small cabin telling her "be quite or do u want everyone to know how much you love my dick" or smth along does lines 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Warning: smut content, dominate behavior, trying not to get caught, rough style f*cking, slight degradation, small chocking.

Many times he found himself underneath your hands while you fixed him up after his mistakes in training. You’d patch up every cut and bruise on his skin, even paper cuts he used to come and see you. He didn’t need medication for any of his “injuries” but who was he to deny his overbearing lust for you.

The first time the two of you hooked up was when you were wiping off the healed cut of dried blood from his cheek. His eyes glued to your face as if it could leave his life forever if he looked away. The way you parted your lips to focus on him in every moment made him think about it in the dead of night. You had caught him staring making you get a shy grin and pull away from him. Luke ended up kissing you without hesitation, and one thing lead to another with you spreading out on the bed.

It never stopped after that. He’d come in with a small wound, you’d take him in, he’d fuck you like a whore and then leave. Waiting until the next time.

However this time was different. The gash across his chest looked bad, needing a bit extra attention from you but he was alright with that. When you placed your hands on his bear skin it reminded him of each time you’d pant and claw at his chest or back. His cock became painfully hard watching you work you magic as your soft touch made his skin on fire.

And, like always he’d have you in his clutch within minutes of his seductive eyes.

Your pants pulled down to your ankles as his arms wrapped around your body pulling you back into him with every thrust. His cock pushing into your heat making you bite your lip to try and silence the sounds you were making, but hums and whimpers filled the room. His fingers dig into your skin making sure to leave his claim incase anyone else wanted to touch you.

“that’a girl,” his husky voice spoke near your ear as the hairs stand up from his breath, “taking my cock just like that, so easy every time.” his lips kissed behind your ear.

his noises weren’t loud but still made your stomach clinch and tighten from his low groans and hard breaths. everything about him made your pussy drip.

“No matter how many times I fuck you, you still can’t stay quiet?” his hand inched up from your chest to the base of your neck to give it a light squeeze. The tip of his dick hitting far inside you when he slammed himself up making a slapping noise echo.

“M’sorry.” You mumbled as your eyes stayed shut from the pleasure within your core. He fucked you so good that you craved it from the moment you woke up, from the moment you went to sleep.

“I bet you wanna get caught with my cock inside you, don’t you? Someone seeing how good you take me, how pretty your body bounces while I thrust inside.” it was hard to deny the fact that part of you was turned on at the thought of getting caught. but it was too embarrassing.

“I see that pout at your lips, that tells me you don’t want it?” his foot moved and started a new pace. he leaned forward to start nibbling at your lower ear, “then why does your cunt clinch when I say that, hmm?”

there was no fighting when your own body was telling the truth and he could read you like a picture book. every reaction your body made he knew about it.

“That’s right baby, cry while I fuck you so good.” His hand went from your neck to your jaw and held it tightly making you whine.

“Let everyone know how much you love my cock.”

#book percy jackson x reader #book Percy Jackson #luke castellan x reader #Luke castellan smut #smut #aged up characters #no minors allowed

2K notes · View notes

corpsekiller · 13 days

Text

𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐠) — 𝐤.𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮

PAIRING. katsuki bakugou x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, overuse of quirk, mentions of burns

SYNOPSIS. after pushing himself beyond his limits during training, katsuki tries to deal with the consequences of his actions on his own.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. so, i'm finally back after taking a long break from writing! i honestly didn't plan to disappear without a word, but uni and work were keeping me really busy and i just didn't find the time to write. anyway, i hope you enjoy this little fic! <3

LENGTH. will be added later!

MASTERLIST

Everything fuckin' hurts.

His skin is reddened and the palms are blistered, aching and tender to the touch as he fumbles with the first-aid kit, rummaging through the small bag for some bandages to cover his open wounds. The cold water he ran over his sore fingers did little to soothe the pain and Bakugou swallows a broken sob when he finds nothing to stop the cuts from bleeding, tries to blink away the tears that begin to blur his vision as he tosses the first-aid kit across the room and slides down the wall to his knees.

"Katsu, are you in there?"

Your voice makes him flinch. It's muffled behind the closed door, barely audible, but he can still hear the honest concern laced in every word as you call out his name a second time. His heart stumbles in his chest, a treacherous rhythm behind his ribs that begs for help and yet, he can't bring himself to reply no matter how hard he tries — his lips part, but instead of words he finds stones in the hollow of his mouth.

No sound leaves his throat.

You're so pathetic, a voice whispers. It sounds strangely like his own.

For a second, Katsuki stares at the sickeningly white tiles beneath his feet, now stained with the remnants of his blood still oozing from his hand. Deep crimson glints tauntingly back at him, the bitter affirmation of his failure to control his explosive quirk reflecting in each little drop and fuck, he feels another sob shatter his body before he can clasp his bruised hands over his mouth — it makes him want to claw right through his chest, to grab his weakness right by the fuckin' throat and twist its brittle neck to silence it for the rest of his life.

He can't.

"Fuck off," he manages to bark around the stones and buries his face in the crook of his elbow, presses his nose into the sleeve of his of his shirt to suffocate this awful desperation that threatens to climb out his throat. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need your fuckin' help."

It's dreadfully quiet on the other side of the door.

Katsuki's breath hitches in his chest and he listens, counts the seconds — one, two, three, four — but besides the sound of his own thoughts roaring in his head, he can't hear anything else and the realization that tumbles down with this observation feels like a knife being pushed slowly into his flesh.

You left, he thinks bitterly, he finally pushed you away like everyone else. And look, he gets it — for the longest time, that's all he's ever done; shoving people away and hiding behind a carefully constructed facade of unbridled anger. He's only every held out his hands to destroy, to crush and win and maybe now, his actions finally return to haunt him in his weakest moment.

It doesn't matter that he caught a glimpse of hope when he first met you, that he thought he finally found someone who'd only laugh at his harsh comments and tell him to calm down, I know you don't mean it with an amused smile—

You left anyway, he reminds himself. It's probably for the best.

Then, a sigh.

"You're so stupid," you retort on the other side of the door, though there's no bite in your insult. "I know you can handle yourself, but I'm not leaving you in this state, even if I have to sit here all night."

Your voice cracks and his name lingers on the tip of your tongue, sweet and soft, never falling from your lips. "C'mon, let me in."

Instinctively, he gives in.

"Alright," Bakugou replies hesitantly. "Come in, but don't... Just don't fuckin' laugh at me, alright." It's a pathetic attempt to hide the pain behind a mask of unjustified anger, he knows, but he can't let you see him like this without putting up a miserable fight. It feels like he's been stripped of any dignity he's been feigning to hold on the span of his broad shoulders, like he's been reduced to nothing but an incurable ache that clings to his broad shoulders like a shadow under the scorching midday sun.

He's not even sure you heard him, words barely above a whisper, but then the door opens and you enter. With careful steps, you come closer and crouch down, your knees hitting the cold tiles with a soft thud. Immediately, Katsuki slumps against the wall, caving his shoulders into himself to escape your eyes studying his face, gaze wandering over his features as your brows crease in worry.

He hates it.

And yet, he doesn't move when you wordlessly wrap your hands around his wrists and gently turn them to observe the burns littering his bruised skin. There's a certain kind of caution in the way you touch him, something so utterly gentle, as if you're fuckin' scared of hurting him and Bakugou curses your stupid display of affection — no one ever handled him with such care before.

So, he grits his teeth and tears his gaze away from you. It's just too much, the way you look at him.

"Y'know, you shouldn't push yourself like that."

He almost barks out a laugh. The sharpness of a cynical retort burns on the tip of his tongue and he opens his mouth to spit it out, but you're quick to cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up for a second, 'kay?" It's almost as if you expected him to argue. "Listen, I get it. I really do. I know why you always push yourself in every training session until you're about to pass about, why you always strive for perfection and overexert your quirk, but this... on the long run, this will only lead you to your early grave."

"You don't know shit," he snarls. Like a wounded animal, he fears kindness, yet he craves it. Touching you makes him want to pull away and yet, he stays frozen, unable to move, because the moment you let go he's sure the pain of his burns will pull him back into the abyss he's been fighting his way out of for what feels like an eternity and he—

He can't give up now.

So instead, he just studies your expression — thoughtful, gentle, concerned. He feels his face heat up as his fingers tremble in your gentle grasp, itching with the urge to fumble with something, anything in means of distraction. He doesn't mind the lack of space — in fact, he finds it almost soothing to feel how close you are, but he's so vulnerable beneath your eyes that his mind screams at him to run if it means you won't look at him in this way again.

"I'm not judging you, Katsu," you mumble, sensing his unease. Your thumb draws small circles on the inside of his wrist, right where his pulse flutters beneath his skin. "But even the best of us need a break every once in a while. It's not a sign of weakness to ask for help, really."

Somehow, his shoulders relax.

"No one will judge you, I promise. So why don't we head to the nurse and let her take a look at your burns?"

It is almost instinctively that he desires to lean into your gentle touch, and remember this fragile feeling for the rest of his life — Katsuki finds a different kind of healing, now that he lets his walls crumble down in your embrace.

"Okay," he whispers and shakily pushes himself to his feet.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou imagine #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x fem!reader #boku no hero academia #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n

242 notes · View notes

withleeknow · 6 months

Text

in the dark.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, crying, mention of blood, mention of animal abuse, not very edited lol word count: 0.6k note: oh i've had the idea for a scene like this for a whiiiile now and i was hella motivated to finally write it after watching skzflix 😂 (twas supposed to be used for a jk fic but oh well, sorry jungoo)

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

"It was stupid of you."

"Okay."

"And reckless."

"Okay."

"And dangerous."

"Okay."

"And stupid. Did I already mention that? Because it was fucking stupid."

"Oka-"

"Fuck!" you snap. "Why do you keep saying that? Is it the only word in your vocabulary?"

Minho shrugs defeatedly, like none of this matters to him, but his guilty eyes tell you otherwise. He purses his lips for a second, before he tells you, "What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you're sorry? Say you'll stop doing it? Say you won't put me through this again?"

He stays quiet, and to be honest, you expected him to. He's too stubborn for his own good and he's too good for his own sake. He's got the kindest heart you know, and you will always love him for it, but...

It's hard to make peace with it when he shows up at your doorstep every few weeks with bruises all over, like an abandoned dog asking you to take him in and put him back together.

It's hard to keep track of all the reasons he tells you to justify his borderline foolhardy actions. The last time it happened, it was because he ran into some psycho abusing the stray cats near his neighborhood. Tonight, it was because he saw someone get mugged on the street.

It's even harder to be okay with the fact that he's infinitely selfless and kind because you love your friend.

You love your friend.

You heave a sigh, going back to the task at hand because you know there's no convincing Minho otherwise. Sometimes, you wish he'd think of himself, that he'd put himself over others. Sometimes, you wish he'd think about you.

You asked him about it once, why he kept showing up to yours instead of going to a hospital. Instead of going home.

He only replied, simple and earnest, "I just want to be here with you."

You soak a cotton swab in rubbing alcohol before you press it gently against the cut on his cheek, wincing when he does. Then you move to the cut on the bridge of his nose, the one on his jawline, the one on the corner of his mouth...

You don't meet his eyes, but you feel his steady gaze on you the entire time you tend to his wounds. You're aware of how your hands are shaking, the way every breath you exhale is trembling, and that there are tears ready to overflow any second now.

The first one spills as you work on cleaning the blood off the corner of his mouth.

Then, suddenly, the cotton swab is no longer in your hand. Minho carelessly flings it elsewhere, and before you can scold him for interrupting you, his palms are on your face, delicate fingers cradling your jaw.

You blink. Just a split second, and his lips are on yours.

He's soft, and warm, and sweet, despite the bitterness that's been on your tongue the entire night. You love him. You do.

And he kisses you like he loves you too, tenderly and wholeheartedly.

You want to keep him with you forever, to never let him go, to not have to see him get hurt ever again. You don't think it's possible for you to endure it anymore, now that you know how it feels to have him like this.

When he pulls away, you're dazed. Rightfully so.

Minho doesn't stray from you for too long. He lets you catch your breath before he's leaning in once more.

Another kiss. Three seconds.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against your lips, his tone so painfully sincere.

Another kiss. Four seconds.

"I'll stop doing it."

Then another one. Five seconds.

"I won't put you through this again."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho

533 notes · View notes

evsstolenhearts · 4 months

Text

Summary: Jason patches you up after a patrol

Jason Todd x gn!vigilante!reader | roughly 1k words | no y/n

Warnings: some cussing, mentions of stab wounds, cuts, and gun shots

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

Just as it was getting dark in Gotham, you and Jason went your separate ways. Leaving the shared apartment to go patrol the city. But your night way cut shorter than usual when a fight with a crime ring got a little to intense.

Normally, like any of the vigilantes in Gotham, a few scratches are nothing. A small knife wound, or even a single bullet hole can be patched up somewhere and you can finish patrol.

But last time that happened, someone (your lovely boyfriend) gave you shit. Even though you've totally found this man beaten and bruised in an alley way.

So, to please the hypocrite of the relationship, you made your way back to the apartment and gave Oracle a heads up. Which is why Jason found you passes out on the couch. Blood lightly staining your suit. It was obvious, that instead of coming home, changing, patching up your wounds, and getting some pain killers. You just fell asleep.

Jason takes it upon himself to strip off the top layers of his own costume, until he's in the compression shirt and cargo pants. Looking very yummy. You awake to this sight because he's carefully taking off and moving your suit out of the way.

"You know, you should at least take me on a date first..." you mumble as he stills his movements at the sound of your voice.

"I think those standards get thrown out the window when you're bleeding on my couch." Jason chuckles as he finishes taking off your suit, leaving you in your undergarments. "Come on, I need you to sit up."

He helps you sit up on the couch, hands supporting your lower back and hip. The pain of moving makes you groan, the gash under the right side of your chest moving with you. "Damn babe, what did you do?" He grabs the disinfectant and some paper towels, beginning to poor it on the wound and use the towels to collect the extra liquid.

"Bad bitch shit, obviously." You laugh at your own statement, but it quickly becomes a pained hiss as the movement makes the cut hurt worse.

Jason sighs as he carefully works on patching you up, kneeling on the ground between your legs to get a better view, "what actually happened?" Despite trying to sound disapproving, there's an obvious smile on his face.

While giving the actual explanation, one of your hands hold Jason's shoulder to stay distracted from the pain. "I was investigating that crime ring that's been springing up. Steph was mentioning how she has a theory they are branching out to some gags around Gotham and might be moving out of the city soon- fuck be careful holy shit-" you curse as jason applies to much pressure on the wound.

"'M sorry." He says softly as he waits for you to continue.

"Anyways- I was originally just gonna do some lurking, some snooping, you know. But I swear to God these aren't just normal assholes fucking off, I double checked myself and they still saw me." You take a break in talking to take a deep breath, as jason almost finishes, "I'm totally convinced at least one of them are a meta or something. So I'm gonna probably send the case information to someone else."

"You could have had me come with you, ya know." His voice is quite, knowing that despite what he says, he would have gone alone as well, so he really can't be mad at you. Jason finishes his work, packing up the first aid kit.

You watch him as he finishes, the apartment silent. Only thing able to be heard is the faint and distinct sound of Gothams road. "I can handle it Jay." Your voice is now just as quite, as if speaking to loud would damage either of you.

"Yes you can, I know you can." Standing up to put the first aid kit back in the kitchen, your eyes follow his movements. "It's just not a fantasy of mine to see you bleeding on the couch."

"Says the man who has made us get new bed sheets because he bled on them?" Resting your head on the back of the couch smiling lazily. He walks back over, so you see him from an upside down perspective.

Jason puts his hands on his hips as he smirks down at you, "This conversation isn't about me."

"But you would be a very good topic." Your smile grows as he rolls his eyes and walks infront of you. Everything goes silent again, looking into eachothers eyes for a few moments.

"Wanna get to bed?" He asks softly.

"Only if you carry me there." You pathetically respond. At your response, Jason's hand covers his face to hide his equally pathetic smile.

Without responding, he carefully picks you up. "This what you wanted?"

Now it's your turn to smirk as he walks you to your shared bedroom, "absolutely."

Jason puts you down on the bed as you both quietly go about your nightly routine.

Jason changed out of the remaining parts of his suit, into a pair of sweatpants and no shirt.

While he does that, you throw on some sleep clothes, careful to damage your wound more, before going back into the living room to move your suit off the floor so you can wash it in the morning.

When you walk back into the bed room, Jason is already waiting for you in bed.

"Well hello there, it's so nice of you to join us." He teases, us being him and the plushie that is on your side of the bed. With a smile you roll your eyes and crawl in next to him.

Snuggling up to him, you both latch onto one another legs tangles under the sheets as breathing evens out.

Masterlist

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood #redhood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #redhood x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #redhood x you #red hood fluff #redhood fluff #jason todd comfort

238 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 2 months

Note

If Makarov managed to capture Hound again, how do you think he'd punish Hound for letting himself be taken away?

OOOOH anon you're gonna give me more ideas for the angst lol

The punishment wouldn't be as much for getting captured as it would be that Hound let someone else touch what belongs to Makarov — Hound. And what a bad dog you've been, evidently he's been too lax with the leash if his hound got this spoiled and disobedient.

Here's 2 scenes that just came to mind that may or may not become cannon idk yet:

CW: NSFW, blood and gore, torture, angst, toxic relationship, cock-warming, dub-con at best non-con at worst

1: Blood. There's so much blood. You feel it creep from the wounds on your head down to the space between your eyes and the blindfold, your carved open back throbbing like one giant wound, shallow cuts weeping blood down your skin. Every harsh breath forces the scent of death and blood deeper into your nose, copper and iron staining your tastebuds. Scraps of flesh dig into your gums between your teeth — the throat of whichever man had stabbed you last.

Adrenaline keeps you standing, muscles trembling in preparation of another stab of pain, gums itching to bite and kill. "Good," You just barely hear before a sharp yank of the leash pulls you down. Light floods in as the blindfold is suddenly ripped off, your eyes stinging from the bright light but you force yourself to look.

Makarov smirks as he watches your eyes fly to look around, wild and feral only to focus on him. There's his hound, blood dying your world red, violence blurring the edges of your vision until the only clear thing you see is him — the one who owns you. Keeping the leash tight so you nearly choke he reaches out to grip your jaw, shoving his thumb into your mouth. There's a second of resistance he'll need to beat out later, but you open your mouth wide, blood glinting on your metal capped canines. "That's better." He presses his thumb on your tongue to keep you silent when he senses you about to try and speak, forcing your mouth to open even wider until a low whine escapes you.

A big mistake; you were ordered to stay quiet. Your muscles tense, but you don't dare anger him further and keep your eyes on him. "A disobedient dog, but at least you're smart." He tuts. You don't know why your eyes want to close when he spits into your mouth, something acrid burning beneath your skin as you feel his saliva rapidly cool on your tongue. (dumb dog, be grateful he's giving you this much)

"Good." Makarov sounds pleased, letting go of your jaw and pushing the blindfold back over your eyes. "Next." His voice rings, and you feel your stupid heart ache as violence rushes through your system as another man approaches you, ready to make you bleed even more until you can get your teeth around his throat.

2: You've experienced it all: cuts, bruises, internal bleeding, broken bones, starvation and so much more — a thousand little deaths. But the sting of tattoo needles hurts more than all of that, like they're piercing deep through your flesh to ink Makarov's initials on your heart. Your head is tilted back so far your skin stretches taught across your Adam's apple, the buzz of the machine rattling your ears.

The tattooing stops long enough for you to hear Makarov scoff before a harsh slap nearly knocks your head off your neck. You realize only then that you'd closed your eyes, quickly snapping them open to look at Makarov as he looms over you. "That's better." Makarov hums, pulling on your throat skin to make it even tighter. "Evidently I spoiled you too much."

You feel Makarov shift, his gummy hot walls clenching around your hard cock as the needles return to your throat. The pain and pleasure blur in your skull, but something about the way his cologne — much harsher and crisper than the scent's of the 141 you'd grown used to — curls in your nose that makes you feel weird. You don't know what it is, but it feels like your heart wants to vomit, the sweet sensation of Makarov taking pleasure from your body buzzing on your tongue like battery acid.

A low sound escapes your chest as he finishes, a pleased look in his eyes as he traces the black lines across your throat. Just from how your skin throbs you know they're big and bold, his claim on you clear. (as it should/n't be -- dumb brute, what is wrong with you?)

"There, now you're a proper hound." Makarov hums, tracing the crisp lines — he's a good owner, he wouldn't make a sloppy job of ensuring everyone knows who his hound belongs to. "That feels better, yes?"

"Yes sir." You say.

You don't know why those words sound like a lie to your ears.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #trinkets from the hoard #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x male reader #vladimir makarov #good dog fic #Hound-reader

308 notes · View notes

aliorsboxostuff · 8 days

Note

Hi! If your requests are open I have one! Just saw ATSV yesterday and its rotting my brain agsisghagdh anyways-

An M!Spider!Reader who is one of Miguel's trusted agents with a tendency to overwork himself to make sure that his teammates are kept safe and ignoring his own health in the process. This understandably makes Miguel very concerned but this man cannot healthily express this are you kidding? What I'm saying is classic troupe of patching you up while scolding you in Spanish and then maybe they kiss a little bit and well if you want to make it a little spicy I wont stop you >:]

Thank you very much! Genuinely makes my gay little heart happy when I see writers like you who exclusively write for gn/male readers, y'all are the backbone of the x reader community fr 💜

A/N: im so sorry this took so long this was months ago but a mf forgot and wow here i am yippee!!!! As usual, if yall find any spelling mistakes pls inform me as i’m always praciticing this damn 2nd language lmao. Lets see if my writing skills is still any good LOL enjoy!! <333

Careless

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Soft!Miguel, slight OOC, patching up, healing fic, non-graphic description of wounds, mentions of blood and cuts

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

Ever since the new guy joined the team, he quickly rose in the ranks and became Miguel’s right-hand man. He’d usually go on patrol, jumping from one universe to another with the man as they capture and contain anomalies like the bugs they are. Miguel puts his trust in him, well, as much trust as a man like Miguel can put in someone. But despite the short time the newbie has been in the Spider society, he has managed to capture Miguel and most of the Spider people's hearts so easily.

He’s a comet that passes by the compound. Each time he returned from a mission, the spiders would gather around him, congratulating him on another successful mission and inviting him to drink or eat together. A aswarm would always gather around the portal they knew he would come out from and each time, without fail, he would emerge to cheers and smiles. It wasn't like everyone else wasn't doing a good job, they were all doing what they were supposed to, but somehow the newbie was liked all around, solidifying Miguel’s slowly growing infatuation with him.

But despite the trust and praises he gets, a spidey doesn't come home unscathed, not every time. Sometimes he’d come back from one of his solo missions with a broken rib or two, bruises in more places than necessary, a torn muscle here a twisted ankle there. He’d limp his way into the infirmary, an army of other spideys following him in worry yet he’d dismiss them easily with a simple wave and a; “It’s nothing guys, I’ll be fine,”

Miguel hates it.

Whenever the man goes on missions with the leader of the society, without fail, he will come home with nothing more than one or two bruises that would heal in a couple of hours if not minutes. Miguel would roll his shoulders back and the man would simply shake his head furiously like a dog before prancing to greet his waves of fans. Miguel didn't need to pay attention to him unless they were doing teamwork. He would run around by himself, track down the anomaly with him, and they would contain it easily and transfer it back just as easily.

He might not look like it, but when Miguel brings a teammate with him on duo missions, he’s expected to cover their back and vice versa. Miguel will break any skull that dares to hurt his team and he hopes for the same response from his teammate. The newbie never disappoints.

Miguel would find himself enraged, almost cornered by an anomaly, and there come’s Prince Charming with a devastating kick towards the anomaly’s side which sends it hurling into another building. Miguel appreciates their duo missions, the main reason he puts himself with the newbie.

Not to mention, he makes a great team leader too. He’s carried out several missions with the younger ones, mainly Miles and Gwen, and despite it all, they always return successfully and with a snack in hand. When he goes on missions with Hobie, they’d somehow come back with a new intricate playlist created and when he goes on missions with Pavitr, they’d come back with pockets full of trinkets ready to give them to the other youngins. All in all, a solid team leader.

Yet, with all that said, Miguel likes to remind himself that no spidey truly comes home unscathed.

—

You were on a mission with Miles. One of your duo missions with the boy, rare considering Gwen usually tags along. But today she’s got a mission with Pavitr and Peni, which leaves you and Miles for some quality Dude Time.

It was a sunny day in the universe Miles and you dropped in. As the two of you swing from building to building, talking about Miles’ thing with Gwen and laughing at how embarrassed he gets, continuing the topic to buying a new Lego set for Pavitr and Hobie as the two of you swung past a Lego shop, when suddenly the anomaly reveals itself.

Another variant of Doc Oct holding themselves up with their extended metal arms. You can handle a Doc Oct alone, and with Miles helping you, the mission was expected to be so easy you were already thinking about what to have for dinner.

But things don't always go according to plan, does it?

It strikes 8 pm when Miguel gets a notif from Lyla that an arriving portal was opened into the containment site of the compound. The man clicks his tongue, dropping from his platform before making his way to the site. Every step he takes he leaves his foul mood like a repellent, making the other spidey avoid him, cutting the middle path of the other spideys like a blade. His scowl is not helping his case either way.

The last portal should've been at 6 pm.

The door slides open, and a slight hiss rings out into the room. Inside the evenly lit expanse of the room, he easily spots yours and Mile’s spider suits in between all the other anomaly's dingy outfits. Miguel takes a breath before he stalks towards the two men, their backs to him.

“Ugh, my rib is killing me,” You groan, pressing in the code to store the anomaly in its cell.

“You're telling me, this bruise is going to be a pain in the butt to heal,” Miles sighed, holding his left arm. “But if it weren't for you, man, I’d be dead meat,”

“Oh come on Miles, none of us knew the guy would send a gas truck our way,” You scoff. The terminal beeps and the thrashing anomaly is contained.

“The fact that it burned on its way towards us was also something we didn't expect.” Miles laughs at what you said as you find yourself cringing. You knew there were going to be burn marks on your leg.

“No, but seriously, thanks for covering me back there, I thought we’d-”

“You thought you’d what?”

Miles practically jumps into your arms as the both of you screams. You shut your eyes and it seems like Mile’s did the same before a stern cough makes you peek through your eyelids. There, in front of you, stands a solid wall of muscle and anger. Miguel has his arms crossed, eyes so sharp it could cut a mountain in half. The slight scowl on his lips would be cute if it weren't for the pure bloodlust as he gazes down into you, making you gulp.

“Heeeeeey Miguel,” Your pathetic excuse of a smile was met with nothing but him deepening his frown. Okay alright yup.

Miles awkwardly scuffles down your arms. He coughs into his fist, pulling at the edge of his suit. “Hi there haha…”

Miguel stares. “The last arrival portal should've been at six.”

Not a sound from you or Miles. Miguel holds back a growl.

“You two are late.”

“Right, ‘m sorry Miguel, I promise this would be the last time, it was just that- See me and Miles here; we didn't realize that this Doc Oct was gonna be slightly more insane than the others-” You ramble, Miles quickly nodding along.

“And haha, well, one truck lead to another and next thing ya’ now, bam! We got uh… hurt,” A nervous chuckle left your lips. Miguel replies nothing.

“B-but! I covered Miles from the fire! So he only got a couple of bruises, I promise the kid is fine and it wasn't his fault either so let’s just-”

“Enough.” He barks. You practically clamped your mouth shut.

The doors hisses open again and Gwen comes running in, worry on her face. She sighs in relief as he spots Miles hiding beside you. “Miles! Thank goodness you’re okay!”

Miguel turns as she runs and wraps her arms around the boy. “You came back so late!”

“I’m sorry Gwen, things got a bit out of control,” Miles pats the girl back reassuringly. “I just got a bit beaten up, nothing I can't handle,”

Gwen pulls back and grabs the boy's face before turning it left and right and up and down, her eyes scanning like a hawk. She deems it enough as she stops, hands firmly holding Miles’ arms. “You always say that,” She sighs.

You can't help the small relieved smile on your lips as you watch the two teens catch up with each other before Miguel makes a gesture with his hand.

“Gwen, go take Morales into the infirmary.” He says as he nods to Lyla that popped up on his brace. “And make sure he doesn't get out of bed for the next two days.”

“What?! But it’s barely a scratch-”

“Now, Morales.” The man stares them down until eventually, Miles relents with a sigh and lets the girl usher him into the Infirmary's direction, the two of them shuffling next to each other, Gwen's arm around Miles.

You hear something along the lines of ‘detention’ from Gwen as she laughs before the door slides close, leaving you with an enraged lion in its territory. You gulp as Miguel fixes his red eyes on you.

“You. Come with me.”

And that's how you find yourself walking down the halls of the many living quarters of the compound. You followed silently behind Miguel’s broad shoulders, in any other day you would find it hard to resist not ogling those massive arms, but tonight Miguel was practically a walking beacon of rage. The smallest misstep would make him burst and thats the last thing you want to happen.

“Miguel, I'm sorry, okay?” You try, catching up to walk beside him. “I promise this will be the last time I’ll come back from a mission late, plus, I won't bring anyone else with me too if I ever do it again. I swear this won't hap-”

His sudden halt catches you off guard and you bump against him. You scratch the bridge of your nose with a slight frown from the impact. The dimly lit hallway made it a slight challenge to read the nameplate but you managed to make out ‘O’Hara’ and with that, your stomach drops.

“Um… Miguel, this isn't my room…”

The door opens. The room is pitch black.

Miguel makes his way inside. His red eye glows before he commands; “Sit.”

Fear brought you to sit on his bed, not a crease in sight which only struck your fear deeper into you. You could hear your heartbeat, terrified for what's to come. The worst thing Miguel could do would probably chew you out in the comfort of his room, away from any possible witnesses, and then maybe take you out of commission for a while as your punishment.

You gulp as the man sets something beside you. It was a box, hard to make out what it was but it seemed heavy. Miguel clawed and the large hand extends towards you and you screw your eyes shut, hell did you pray to any god that was willing to listen to you so please please please-

“Bring your face closer.”

Huh?

Cautiously, you open your eyes to Miguel’s face inches away from you, a warm light bathes over his features, making the lines of worry and fear evident. “Let me see your wounds.”

You blink, once, twice, owlishly, making the man before you sigh and cup your jaw softly. He turns your face to inspect it before he brings his other hand which wipes your fringe away from covering any other possible wounds.

He hums. “Looks like just scratches.”

The mystery box turns out to be a first aid kit. Miguel flicks it open and rummages around in it before he pulls a couple of bottles and bandages out.

“Take off your suit top, we need to treat that burn before it gets worse.” He demands. You cough before awkwardly peeling off what's left of your suit before dropping it on the carpeted floor. You need to get that repaired.

You couldn't bear to meet Miguel's eyes. Not when he’s kneeled in front of you, his usually intimidating body looking small as he’s hunched over. He looks tired, his frown is a mixture of worry and annoyance, but there is something beneath it. Something you don't dare to think about but you know. You always knew. From the first day, you finally managed to see that crack in Miguel’s hardened exterior, you’ve been scared to make another move toward him. Behind this wall of a man, is a heart guarded with spikes and what he has in his eyes right now as he’s wrapping a cooling pad around your arm is something that petrifies you.

“Next time you’ll be doing missions with me and me only. I won't be assigning you to any other spiders until you learn to take care of yourself,” He huffs, unveiling another roll of bandages. He pulls at your shoulder which makes you turn slightly.

"Fucking hell, ¿cómo puedes ser tan descuidado? You run around saving everyone else but who’s going to save you, huh?" He huffs, wrapping the last of the bandage slightly too tight which makes you wince. He notices but does nothing.

Once again, he holds your chin between his fingers as your gazes suddenly meet. Miguel growls with how you won't meet his eyes, firmly pointed anywhere but into Miguel’s red eyes. He sighs before letting you go as he takes out some ointments. He puts the substance on your cheek and under your slowly blackening eye, then down your jaw where you know a pretty bad bruise taints your skin. You feel his movement slow before his hand rests on your nape, sending jolts of warmth through your body.

“Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate." His voice devastatingly soft.

Confusion and a steady wave of feelings start at the bottom of your heart, which only worsens as you finally find the courage to look at Miguel. To your surprise, his eyes are wider than usual, pools of crimson oozing with care as he scans your features. His thumb rubs at the base of your skull. “I can't lose my right-hand man.”

He sighs. “Please, necesito que estés seguro por mí,"

You inhale sharply. Without realizing it, he's practically inches away from you. Your heart races, beats out of your control when Miguel rubs your nape again.

“Miguel…?”

A beat passes. Silence.

Before Miguel growls roughly and promptly stands, taking the med kit with him. He makes his way to what you assume was his wardrobe. Panic rises beside you, making you wave around your hands. “I- Um- Miguel please I didn't mean to- Oof!”

Something was thrown at you. Something soft and large and is this hit shirt and… boxers?!

“Change your clothes. You can't sleep in those.” Miguel points out, his scowl now a pout on his lips.

“But-”

“I'm not saying this twice.” He growls before he slides into the bathroom and leaves you in his bedroom along with the pile of his clothes in your arms.

You slowly look down at what you're holding. Carefully, you slide off what's left of your suit and drop them in a discarded pile before pulling on Miguel's clothes. To no one's surprise, you're practically drowning in the shirt. His boxers barrel fits you and the first goes over your tighs easily. You feel smaller even for your height and stature, but it feels… safe.

The door of the bathroom slides open to reveal Miguel standing with slightly damp hair as he's drying it off with a towel and in nothing but gray sweats. Something grows within you and it’s definitely something else besides your heart.

“Ah, you're done,” He glances toward you before setting the towel down neatly. He saunters to the side of his large bed, pulling the covers off before sliding in. An arm keeps the cover slightly open, before he raises an obvious brow.

“Get in here and sleep,” He huffs.

You jump and quickly slide beside Miguel, careful to keep an inch of a distance. But that was deemed unsuccessful when the man beside you pulled you to his side, and his arm wrapped protectively around your middle which made you drape your hand over his chest. Before you can squirm, he locks his chin over your head with a content sigh.

Shit, he really is a giant lion. You sigh.

“Sleep. You need your rest to heal.” Miguel’s voice purrs through you while you're practically glued to his side. You chuckle slightly before pressing a peck just below his jaw.

“You sleep too.” You smile. “Good night Miguel.”

You hear Miguel hum before he presses his lips to your crown. “Good night.”

Translations:

how can you be so careless? = cómo puedes ser tan descuidado

Take care, huh? Take care of yourself. = Cuídate, ¿eh? Cuídate.

I need you to be safe for me, = necesito que estés seguro por mí,

Reblogs are appreciated <3

#miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x m!reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff

61 notes · View notes

anonymousbeefriendfanfics · 2 months

Note

Helloooossss. I am once again in your inbox to bother and corrupt you with my brainrot.

So we know how Gaming has just the most golden retriever bf energy. How would he react if his s/o was to get hurt by some treasure hoarders or something?

Okay byee love yaa. Take care. Don't forget to drink water.

Fandom: Genshin Impact Characters: Gaming Warnings: Vague description of attack, mentions of blood. Comments: *sips water* Thank you so much for sending my first genshin request! I love you too, I hope you enjoy your boy!

Gaming is an incredibly protective boyfriend. It's just who he is. Protecting those he loves is one of the many ways he shows affection. You could even call it overprotective, if you can handle yourself in a fight, but he's not trying to protect you because he thinks you're weak; it's just that he would rather take any injuries himself than put you in danger. If you're not a fighter, though, his protectiveness would increase even further, because he's desperate to protect you from any and all harm.

I don't think you would get hurt if the two of you are together. He's too good at fighting for that, and he's so quick on his feet that even if you're seriously outnumbered, he can fend off just about anything to keep you safe.

When you're on your own, though, you've managed to get hurt. We'll say you were walking to meet him, and you get ambushed by treasure hoarders, and they hurt you during the ensuing fight, before you eventually managed to get away, and you arrive at your meeting spot bruised and bleeding from the cut(s).

Gaming sees red. Blood red, specifically. That's right, his number one concern is you. He immediately asks what happened, a note of panic in his voice that isn't normally there. He'll tend to your injuries with a small medical kit he carries with him (you can never be too careful in his line of work). He doesn't care if it's just a small cut or if you're covered in wounds, you're bleeding and he's going to bandage you up. Don't even try and convince him that it's not that bad, or that you can do it yourself. If you try to resist him, he'll give you those big puppy dog eyes until you surrender.

You're probably expecting a lecture about not going on walks alone or being more careful, but it never comes. He's nothing but gentle as he patches you up, softly apologizing for hurting you any time you so much as inhale more sharply than normal. He's so concentrated on his work, too, and you can't help but notice how adorable he is when he's focused.

Once you're all fixed up, what he does next depends on how badly you were hurt. If it's bad, he'll take you back to the city, carrying you if necessary. His first priority is getting you to safety. Nothing else matters until you're okay!

If you're alright after being bandaged up, you'd better believe those treasure hoarders aren't getting away! He asks you which way they went, and he's gonna chase them down and make them pay for harming you. Gaming doesn't often get angry, despite having something of a hot temper, but if someone he cares about is hurt? You betcha he's mad.

If he takes you back to the city, he'll likely take you by Bubu Pharmacy or a local doctor to have you checked out, and then he's taking you home - yours or his, whichever is closest. He'll get you settled on the couch or bed with soft pillows and blankets, and he immediately makes you some delightful tea and some tasty snacks. He'll sit with you and talk about anything and everything to try and cheer you up, telling you tales of his various adventures.

He's more gentle than usual with you over the next few days, especially if you got hurt badly. He makes sure you're taking good care of your wounds so they can heal, and he spends more time at home with you than he normally would, just to help out if you need him. But hey, you're not complaining - the workaholic needs a break anyway, and you enjoy his company. Expect lots of cuddles, though he'll be careful not to touch any of your injuries. He'll also be more than happy to fetch anything you could possibly need, day or night, be it painkillers or take out or anything in between.

He's just so sweet okay. He pampers you like he would if you were sick and he basically acts like a big puppy that wants to cheer its owner up. He tells so many dumb jokes and funny stories that recovering is almost fun with him around!

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open! Tag List 🐝

#beefriend-writes #genshin impact #genshin gaming #genshin ga ming #yip gaming #genshin x reader #hi mossy

40 notes · View notes

williamvapespeare · 8 months

Text

torturing myself with Astarion/durge heartbreak 2k23 (some comfort immediately after that scene)

“Anyway it’s a brand new day, I’m sure we’ll find lots of people for you to kill.”

He means it as a joke, he really does, the sort of thinly veiled thing he pulls out when a conversation gets too close to the endless darkness of a tomb or the trusting eyes of yet another victim, pain dragged down each of his limbs, screams caught in his throat, or, well - he figures he’s owed a bad joke or two for all of that.

And Tav humors him with a small huff of something that might have been laughter, only it catches on a sharp sounding inhale and all of a sudden he’s clapping a hand over his mouth and curling into himself and Astarion has done quite enough sitting back and watching that night already.

When he pushes himself closer, Tav turns away, his eyes squeezed shut, shoulders heaving. Astarion reaches out, slowly, with all same the caution he uses as he feels his way through the mechanisms of a trap, fits his fingers under a spring, eases it open. He’s good at this, Astarion knows, and now he gets his hand around Tav’s wrist, pries it gently away from his mouth. Tav’s skin is still raw, dried blood flaked around the wound. Astarion does his best to be gentle as he pulls Tav’s hand towards him, holding his fingers loosely in both of his own hands.

It reminds him of a night weeks ago, when Tav accepted Astarion’s terrified words with the most grace he’s ever known, warm arms around his waist, a soft smile on Tav’s face, gentle fingers curled around his own. I care about you.

“I’m sorry,” Tav says now, voice choked and raw. Like he’s been screaming all night. “You shouldn’t. I tried to, I fucking tried…”

“I’m here,” Astarion cuts him off. Tav’s hand tries to clench in his own, twisting into a fist where Astarion can see the bloody imprints of nails already etched into his palm. He tightens his grip. “Someone already beat you to the whole killing me thing, love, and look how that turned out. I’m still here, whole and beautiful.”

Tav’s shoulders hitch again, but he blinks his eyes open, and while Astarion doesn’t like what he sees there - dark circles like bruises above his cheekbones, fear still radiating from him like a pheromone - he sees Tav there in his eyes, nothing more, nothing less.

“That’s it,” he soothes, calming and utterly nonsensical. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Tav says again, but his voice is steadier this time.

Astarion reaches out, touches Tav’s cheek in what he hopes is a delicate caress, like he too is something gentle to be taken care of, even when his body and his brain are fighting it with everything they have.

The fire is long since dead, and Astarion lets his gaze wander up from the blackened logs to the dull grey sky, it looks this way just before sunrise, he’s learned. Sometimes, the subtle hints of pink blink into view on the edge of the horizon without warning, and he’s struck with awe at the sight of it, the light, the freedom, every useless cliche it’s come to represent.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there, but by the time he hears the first rustling of their companions around them - it’s Gale who always appears first, he knows, the man wakes ridiculously early for a human - the sun is high enough in the sky that it’s beginning to peek through the early morning clouds.

“I should probably, uh,” Tav motions vaguely to his hand where it still rests loosely in Astarion’s, “deal with this before anyone else freaks out.”

As much as Astarion agrees, he can’t quite bring himself to let Tav go yet.

“Of course,” he says, instead of any of the disgustingly possessive thoughts on the tip of his tongue. “Get yourself cleaned up, darling.”

He helps Tav to his feet, watches as Tav rubs his face on his sleeve, skims his own fingers over his bloody wrists, taking stock of the damage. Astarion recognizes the motions.

“Will you,” Tav starts to say something that tapers off into a tired sort of silence, but Astarion is already nodding.

“I’ll be right here,” he says. “Whenever you need me.”

#astarion #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #bg3 durge #durge spoilers #astarion x durge #astarion fic #h/c

96 notes · View notes

viiiiiiiiiin · 4 months

Text

Silent Echoes - His Legacy (Prologue)

The day drifted on and on , like an endless loop of brightness. The sky was clear , not a cloud in sight. Though the sun beat down on the bright grass below it , the crisp air that blew in everyones hair made it chilly. Not even the sky shared pity on those it watched over. It didn’t even bat an eye to torture. Not a care in the world.

Not even to the poor blonde boy on the ground covered his head from being hit by switches from other young children. The pain burned his skin like a fire igniting across his pale skin. The boy had raggedy clothes and scrapes , bruises , and scratches all over his frail body. He was sobbing loudly and calling for his father , not knowing what to do. 3 words. 3 loud words from a sweet voice stopped that torture. “LEAVE HIM ALONE.” Shouted a sweet , sweet voice. The child stepped in front of him with their hands held in front of them. He looked up through his blonde bangs and saw the back of a short childs head. A bright light seemed to cover their body , as if they were some sort of God. They had a branch of their own , batting off the other children. Though , the children started beating up the other child as well.

Eventually , the 3 taller children left. The blonde boy nimbly lifted himself up onto his knees and stared worriedly at his now scratched up savior. “Are . . . are you okay ?” He mumbled , crawling over to the stranger. Said stranger turned around to him and smiled brightly. He managed to see what they were wearing while waiting for a response. A baggy gray sweatshirt and baggy blue jeans. They wore no shoes , making their feet dirty with the wet mud below. The child had messy hair and a sharp tooth that made their smile even more goofy.

“I’m fine ! These scratches don’t hurt ! Are you okay though ?” The stranger asked , helping the boy up. They pulled out some bandaids from their dirty {f / c} bag and patched some of his wounds while he spoke back.

“. . I don’t know . . I’ve . . never felt like this before.” He spoke quietly , almost embarrassed to speak in such a way. The stranger giggled and shook their head.

“I get ya , I get ya. Luckily , there are only small cuts that have blood. They won't get infected since I put a bandaid on ‘em.” They reassured , patting the smaller boy on the head. He was surprised. Nobody in this town liked them , so why was this stranger helping him ? His look of surprise must’ve caught the attention of the stranger , who laughed at it.

“I don’t care who you are. Everyone deserves second chances. Children shouldn’t have to live in the shadows of their parents.” They said while taking a swig of the water they had brought.

“Want some ?” They offered , holding the bottle out to him. He shook his head , still thinking of the words they had shared with him.

The other child brushed off their knees and laughed , turning away from him. “Welllllll , I’ve gotta get goin’ ! See ya , strange blonde boy !” They waved and began walking off. The boy in question grabbed their hand without thinking and halted their walk.

“What’s up ?” They asked , turning their head to see him.

“. . . What’s your name ?” He finally asked after gaining the confidence to do so. The {h / c} haired child turned to him and held their hand out to him. “

“Name ! Nice to meet ya !” They informed , doing a playful bow. The boy shyly took their hand and stared.

“. . . Well , it’s quite rude to ask for someone else's name and not tell ‘em yer own . .” The child , now known as Name , playfully said. The boy scrambled to bow as an apology and shyly spoke of his name.

“. . . Rosinante . . .” He spoke quietly , twiddling his thumbs.

“Pretty name ya got there , Rosi ! ~” Name gaily spoke , a bright smile radiating from their dirty face. Their {shape} cheeks turned a shade of red from all their laughing that made them look sweet to Rosinante. Speaking of red , his pale cheeks had begun to turn a shade of that. The nickname threw him off guard.

He stared at the {h /c} haired child and shook his head violently. He looked away and played with his fingers. “See ya , Rosi !” The stranger shouted , waving and running off. He held out his hand to them , as if about to stop them. Quickly , he retracted his hand and smiled softly.

On the walk back to where he and his family resided , he thought back to the stranger that defended them. They were so kind to him , but he didn’t understand why. He sighed and turned towards the sea , deep in thought. “Rosi . .” He repeated to himself , almost as if he was in a trance. He didn’t understand why the nickname rolled like sweet honey off of Name’s tongue like that. He liked it. He hoped to meet them again.

#one piece #reader insert #trafalgar law #x reader #op #corazon #corazon x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader #one piece angst #silent echoes - his legacy #vixenwrites #one piece x you #angst #prologue #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

18 notes · View notes

wh0refornikolailantsov · 1 year

Note

Prompt: “Haven't I given enough?”

Song: Two Birds - Regina Spektor

For Tolya x Reader please!!

In Times Of War - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warning: Canon Compliant Violence, Suffering And Threat. War. Loss. Not Beta/Proof Read.

You knew the fight was never going to be easy. Going up against The Darkling and his loyal Grisha was never going to be easy. But amplified and relentless Grisha, it is hard to not feel like this is a losing battle.

You can feel the blood rushing in your ears, your bones ache from the fighting, but you just keep moving. You can see Tamar to your left, she has her hands pressed together, in a tight formation, as she pulls her hands closer to her chest, the durast she is up against doubles over, hand clawing at his heart as if any action could dislodge the pain, the man crumples to the floor and does not get up.

You notice the man about to lunge for you quickly enough that you can smash your elbow into the side of his skull, hitting the soft spot on the high temple, you don't hit as hard as you had planned and the man just stumbles back. You don't have much time to plan your next more before he is hauling himself at you again. He freezes, for a moment before he gets to you, you land your right palm fiercely down on his face, shattering the bone in his nose, the man falls to the floor, his breathing laboured.

You have enough time now to look to your right, and you see Tolya, moving in a similar motion to Tamar minutes before, as the man's breathing gets worse and worse you realise the stumble before had been Tolya's doing. Between his own hand to hand combat he was watching your fighting closely, and throwing you assistance where he can.

"Thank you," you mouth in the chaos, and he nods at you, understanding.

The battlefield would never be your first choice of place to be, violence although sometimes necessary did not come so naturally to you as it did to others. But you could handle yourself well enough, it had seen you this far, but knowing Tolya was close, and he had your back, it gave you a sense of safety and assurance you rarely felt.

When Tolya said he would do anything in his power to keep you safe, keep you from harm, you believed him.

Tamar moves both her axes in unison and you turn away from the bloodbath that ensues.

Tolya slides his sword across the ground, and you're surprised, it is rare to see the sword in its sheath, and it's rarer to see Tolya favouring anything but the blade in a fight. He moves quickly, using his leg to swipe out someone else's, knocking them to the floor, and he has moved over them, grabbed his sword with one hand and made his advances onto the next before the man hits the ground.

A bullet tears through a nearby barricade and it sends wood splintering everywhere. Tamar, ever the warrior, takes a few steps back, and lands an axe in the back of someone attempting to land a shot on her, they don't manage it. Their body drops and Tamar who knows better than to her back on a wounded adversary, swings her other axe back around to finish the job.

You turn to run, but something knocks you off your feet, and the air is yanked from your chest as you hit the ground hard. You aren't sure if it's the impact or a Squaller ripping the air out of you.

Tolya's reaction is subconscious, automatic. He runs at the Grisha towering above you, cutting them down with a single swing and a quick response the backup who came after him in turn.

Somewhere in the distance between your head thundering from the pain, and the ache of your bruised skin, the cut in your leg that you didn't even feel before you hit the ground, you can hear another familiar voice. You think it might be Nina, it sounds like it could be Nina.

You try to get up quickly, and you feel like your whole body is on fire but you have to keep moving.

It is Nina, she has knocked five men down, which is impressive, but their are eight and she is feeling backed up, you don't have to be a Heartrender to sense everyone's fear.

Mortal danger brings clarity.

You make it to your feet, and your eyes search Tolya out, desperate to find him in the crowd, desperate to be sure he is okay.

Mortal danger brings clarity.

But you cannot see him, in all the fighting you don't know where he has gone. You can hear Tamar calling out your name. You move, lumbering at first but soon the adrenalin takes over, and you're running. Tamar grabs your arm, and you feel your pain lessening.

You shake your head. "Save it," you advise. "What is it Nina is always saying? It's so much easier to tear people apart when put them back together, isn't that why Heartrenders and Healers are defined as such."

Tamar laughs and it would feel out of place is Tamar's laugh didn't so soften feel like a battle cry. "We don't use such narrow terms," she reminds you.

"I don't like this," you say. Tamar laughs.

"It's war, I would be worried if you did," Tamar looks around, and you know in your heart who she is searching for.

"Have you seen Tolya?" you ask. Tamar shakes her head.

There's a heat, a searing heat to the right, as something is set on fire, and Tamar heads fowards.

You take a moment to catch your breath, eager to find Tolya, eager to be done with the fighting. You were relying on others now, you just had to keep moving.

Everything was coming back into focus, you hadn't even realised how blurred your vision had become from the winding, but now your breathing was becoming rooted in something steadier once again. You felt as if you were returning into yourself.

You move through the fighting, like a ghost, as people seem to fall either side of you. It feels nothing short of a waking nightmare. Your eyes are searching for Tolya, it's all you seem to be able to do.

Your mind is screaming, racing with all the worst thoughts. All the ways things could have gone wrong, all the reasons you might never see him again.

No. You try to shake the thoughts away, like if you knock them hard enough they'll shatter out of the realms of possibility, like if you push them far enough away they couldn't come true.

'Haven't I given enough?' You feel like screaming. So much pain and loss and anger boiling up inside of you. You cannot add Tolya to the losses. You can't.

You wouldn't survive it.

You couldn't survive it.

You feel someone grab you and pull you back against a wall, you turn and the scrawny stranger with long coat and his hand deep in a brown satchel that clinks and rattles as he rustles through it. He pulls out a small fabric wrap and throws it a distance, and flicks up the length of his coat to shield you both from the blast. A piercing white light can be seen from behind the fabric, and then it's gone. Wylan you presume. He is skittish as he talks. "We need to go," he says.

You follow him, and a familiar face joins the side of you. "Didn't think we would see you again gorgeous," Jesper says, his smirk bright, as he flips one of his guns into the air, catches it with the opposite hand and takes a shot, which lands perfectly, as they always seem to. There wasn't a doubt in your mind Jesper could shoot the scent off a skunk at almost any distance. And he knew it.

"Have you seen Tolya?" you manage to ask. Wylan shakes his head.

"Things are getting worse from here up," Jesper explains, "you might want to pick a Saint and start praying."

Only one prayer comes to mind. But it was the only one that matters. Please, let Tolya be okay.

On the other side of a few barricades Tolya is dealing with a Tidemaker, he can feel the pain in his shoulders and ribs, but the pain is a sensation and he tries his best to block it out, set it aside. He keeps reminding himself over and over, as he absorbs the pain, swallowing it.

Water hits Tolya with a force, he has been expecting it, anticipated it, and in the moments after landing he let his body relax. He did not let the Tidemaker land another.

He sees people he recognises around him, but no one he is looking for. He just keeps moving. He finds himself shoulder to shoulder with Nikolai and the relief is overwhelming as he spots Tamar to the other side.

"Good to see you," Nikolai smiles.

"You had us worried for a minute," Tamar says. Tolya looks at Tamar and Tamar can see the question on his face, she shakes her head. "I lost them back at the fire." Tamar hears it as she says it, her poor choice of words. "I'm sure it's fine."

"We need to keep moving," Nikolai says, "things are about to get a lot worse before they get better. But hey, either we win or I get that hero's death I always wanted, silver linings."

"Always the optimist," Tamar says.

The explosion is noticed first by all, Nikolai looks up, trying to figure out where it was coming from. But you don't hear a single thing said as soon as you spot Tolya with them. You could scream the thanks to every Saint you know but you just find yourself staring. He sees you and he breaks out into a smile.

"You scared me," you tell him as you make your way over to him as quickly as you can.

"You think I wouldn't make my way back to you?" he asks, pulling you in for a tight hug. "I'll always make my way back to you. Always."

#shadow and bone #tolya #tolya x reader #tolya yul bataar #grishaverse #six of crows #tolya and tamar #nikolai lantsov #tolya my darling i adore you #i will always find you

63 notes · View notes

whumpflash · 1 year

Text

Penumbra: Uncertain

for Angstpril, Day 24: Trauma (alt)

cw: whump aftermath, wound cleaning, mentioned weight loss, non-sexual nudity, discussed death wish/suicide attempts

prev ///// masterlist ///// next

note: please mind the warnings. If you'd like to read a version of this chapter without a specific element, feel free to PM me and I'll send you an edited version. Stay safe, everyone!

•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•

It was a mile's trek back to their great-uncle's house, made all the longer with the pelt of the rain on their back and the weight of the injured man in their arms. Cerus had begun the journey upright, stumbling along with a thin arm wrapped around Tansy's shoulders, but it had soon become apparent that he was in no condition to walk. They'd lifted his shaking form, trying not to think about how light he was, how his flesh radiated heat even through the wet clothing. How the shipwrights had him working out in the cold anyway.

Neither of them spoke a word throughout, and when Tansy spared a glance down to check on Cerus, his eyes were closed. For his own sake, they hoped he was unconscious.

Aldon was still not home when they opened the door, but that was perhaps for the better. They weren't certain he'd be all too happy at the idea of sheltering the former tyrant. For now, Cerus would have to be their secret.

Tansy carried him upstairs, to the sparse room their uncle had set aside for them, and lay Cerus on the bed. Their shoulders burned from the effort of getting him here, but now was not the time to rest. They discarded their waterlogged cloak, and began to cut away Cerus's soaked rags. The man seemed to be awake now; half-lidded eyes above hollow cheeks, staring dully at the ceiling. He made no move to struggle, or even speak.

He was considerably thinner than he'd been at his trial, the sharp outline of ribs and hip bones jutting against pale skin. Scars and bruises, old and new, covered his body, and when they rolled him onto his side to check his back, they were met with a horrific number of whip marks, some still oozing blood, darkening the bedsheets.

Though his eyes were open, Cerus responded to Tansy's examination as if he were unconscious, offering neither remark nor resistance, and Tansy was left wondering if it was the fever that had left him numbed to the world around, or if it was simply how the man protected himself from the constant maltreatment.

"I'm going to clean your wounds," they said, watching for a response. To their surprise, Cerus's eyes sharpened.

"And wh—" He let out a cough that shook his body. "Why would you do s-something like that?"

Why indeed? Wanting to help the suffering was human nature, but when the sufferer himself was the cause of so much misery, what was one to do? They did not reply, rolling Cerus onto his stomach.

"Wait here," they said, though they doubted he was capable of doing otherwise, and walked down the stairs, toward the kitchen.

Why indeed. The strangeness of the situation was starting to take hold of them. How could they do something like this? Saving the very person they'd sworn to depose, bringing him into their home, tending to him. Would anyone else in the village, in all of Feyadel, do the same, or was Tansy mad for making such a choice? What would their comrades in the battalion think of their decision, were they here to see it?

More than why they'd done it, another question was heavy in their thoughts; what were they going to do, now that they'd chosen to help? Cerus was under sentence. He lawfully belonged to the shipyard, regardless of the abuse he'd suffer there. Even if they could grant him a reprieve from the rain, he couldn't very well stay here; eventually someone would come looking for him. Still, they couldn't in good conscience just hand him back over to the docks, not when he was clearly ill, not when he could barely stand.

For now, they'd try and curb their worries, and think only of tonight. Whatever tomorrow brought, they'd handle it in the morning.

They gathered linen cloth and water from the kitchen, tucking a small bottle of brandy under their arm as well. Tansy was a soldier, not a medic, but they'd still treated their fair share of wounds. The parcel of clams watched them forlornly from the wooden counter, and Tansy cast a glance back at it as they climbed the stairs. First they'd tend to Cerus, then get a start on dinner before their uncle returned. And hopefully, he wouldn't notice if they cooked for three.

Cerus flinched when they opened the door, as if startled from sleep, and Tansy knelt by the bed, depositing their supplies beside them.

"This will sting," they warned, as they wetted a cloth with brandy, then wondered why they bothered. Couldn't they at least find catharsis in the necessary pain that came with cleaning his wounds?

Cerus inhaled through clenched teeth as Tansy touched the cloth to his back, his next breath turning into a whimper when they began to gently scrub the torn, feverish skin. As much as they wished they could, Tansy found no solace in his pain. They finished cleaning and binding the cuts without another word, then covered Cerus with a blanket, trying to ignore the way he stared at them.

"You're not a priest," he said bluntly. "Nor a healer."

Tansy lifted their chin. "I'm a soldier," they replied. "I fought to end your reign."

He showed no reaction. "And you did. So why?"

Tansy turned away. They didn't need to have this conversation with him, of all people.

"Y-you should've left me."

That halted them in place. "To die?"

Cerus let out a bitter laugh that rapidly degraded into a coughing fit. "Do you think I don't desire an end? Do you think I fear death enough to cling to a life such as this one?"

Tansy frowned. "If that were so… would you not have found your own end?"

"If I throw myself into the sea, they haul me out. If I cut a vein, they hold me down and send for a healer. I am not allowed to escape. All I can do is wait for my body to fail."

"You'd rather I'd left you to be beaten, then."

"I have received more beatings than a man can count. What's one that goes unfinished?" His words dissolved into another vicious cough. "You were a soldier. Certainly, you saw friends felled by my troops. Family."

"You'd have difficulty finding a soldier who hasn't," Tansy answered, their tone flat. Why would he bring up such a thing now? Did he wish to turn them against him, to drive them to throw him back out into the rain?

"Then you have as much reason to hate me as everyone else," Cerus said. "Why bring me here? Why not leave me to die, or even end me by your own hand?" He tried to push himself up with shaking arms, but fell back onto the bed with a cry. "Y–ghnn—you've lost family by my hand. This very village burned by my hand. Why let me draw another breath? Why not strike me down?"

Tansy shook their head. It seemed that Cerus was trying to goad them into anger, but why? Whatever the reason, they would not allow themselves to be persuaded by him.

"I've seen enough bloodshed for one lifetime," they answered.

"And I am at fault for that," Cerus protested.

They closed their eyes against his words, reaching for the door. "Rest."

"I felt no remorse, no regret," Cerus called after them, voice rising, shaking. "Will you not take vengeance?"

Tansy closed their fingers around the door's handle, clenching it tightly. They almost wished they could, and certainly wished they didn't feel this odd, misplaced pity. But it wouldn't be vengeance anymore, it would be simple cruelty. An honorable execution was seven months too late, and they could never bring themselves to raise a hand against someone as weak and sick and hurt as Cerus was right now, especially not at his behest.

When they glanced backwards, the former tyrant was wearing an expression they couldn't quite place. Was it anger? Fear? Simple disbelief that Tansy would dare tend to him?

"Will you not take vengeance?" he repeated, his voice now barely above a whisper, and Tansy shook their head.

"What vengeance is left to take?" they murmured, and finally opened the door, stepped through, and pulled it closed behind them.

§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump

#angstpril 2023 #fic #day 24 #trauma #alt prompt #penumbra: shadow king #whump #fantasy whump #whipping tw #painful wound cleaning #royal whumpee #villain whump #villain whumpee #reluctant caretaker #tw deathwish #tw: suicide attempt #tw abuse #tw weight loss #tw sui ideation

62 notes · View notes

sissytobitch10seconds · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump 7: Quiet, For Once

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows Summary: Blood is easy to hide when you're covered in someone else's. Warnings: Blood, wounds, gang violence, hiding injuries, possible/implied character death, and heavy mental angst Word Count: 1,590 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey

Archive link!

In their line of work, things went wrong quite often. Blood, gore, and viscera were something that was unfortunately common for them to see. It was standard for each person to help the other back to a safe location and then to vie for the attention of whatever medik or Healer had managed to be secured for that job. They worked with each other to make sure that they were safe and then became greedy for the real help that would prevent death.

Kaz had seen it more times than he could count and yet it would never fail to make his heart stutter in his chest when he realized that it was happening to one of his Crows. He had seen Matthias almost die when he had been shot during the Van Eck job, he had seen Nina laid out by a poison that had helped her body for only a short time, he had seen Inej almost bleed out on the ship in the belly of a boat, and he had seen Wylan on his knees with hand prints covering his pale swan neck.

Nothing would ever compare to the way that it felt to find Jesper as he had now.

He could barely even remember the point of the job. He was fairly certain that it had been a favor that the King of Ravka had called on them for, something that would promise them a lot of money and even more notoriety. Kaz was not only greedy for kruge, after all. It was something that was going to require a lot of stealth and the talent that Jesper had tried hiding away until he had gotten married to a Grisha from the Second Army. They had snuck away in the night so that they could complete the tasks assigned to them and then returned in a sight worse than Kaz had seen them in for a long time.

Nina had already collapsed down onto the couch in the front room of the boarding house that the royal couple had placed them into. She was being fawned over by Inej, the one that knew how to suture a wound, and Wylan, the only one that could actually take instruction when one of their own was ill like this.

Kaz had wandered down the hall so that he could find them something to clean up the blood. He knew that the innkeeper that had leased them the rooms would be very upset to find that they had soaked all the way through his couch, after all. He figured it would be a better use of his time than standing over Nina and fretting like he always did when one of his Crows was sick. It was a task that would be useful in the end and remove himself from Inej and Wylan’s way. Matthias could take the job of being underfoot.

The bulletwound in Nina’s arm was a big enough gash that he had completely forgotten about the fact that Jesper had strayed into the same house and had faced the same end of the weapon. He knew that his husband was far better at redirecting metal and would have been more likely to come out unscathed, but it was possible he was being a giant idiot about it all.

Jesper had never been like the other Dregs or even the other Crows. When he had gotten injured after his first month on the job, he had sat sullenly near the kitchen counter while waiting for the medik that they had hired to finish with the others. The wound that he had sustained on his head led to a concussion and him being out of commission for a good long while. Kaz had half assumed that the concussion was the reason that he hadn’t spoke up to try and get some attention on himself, at least until the next time that Jesper had been hurt. He had nearly shattered the bones in his ankle and yet hadn’t said anything until the others had all been seen to.

He had an insanely high pain tolerance, which meant that he didn’t have to cry out for the strong alcohol that the Dregs usually shared when they were trying to cope with cuts and bruises. He had also grown up on a farm, which meant that he knew at least somewhat how to set a bone and deal with his own injuries until someone else could.

Kaz was still standing in front of the linen closet of their rented rooms. His dark eyes bore down into the fluffy white towels as he replayed those facts over and over again in his mind. He knew what they meant, what they could lead to. He knew his husband inside and out, even if Jesper let his own brain run away so that no one else could understand how it worked.

He could feel his stomach drop out from under him and the adrenaline shoot through his veins at the same time. He left his cane leaned up against the built ins without a second thought as he darted towards the bathroom. He banged on the door with one hand while pushing against it with his shoulder. “Jesper! Jesper, open the fucking door,” he snarled. His voice was harsh and raspy because of the stress of the day but it only sounded more like a demon now that he was shouting.

He grunted as he felt no give, which meant that the thing was locked. Now that he had been given no response from the man inside, he dropped down to his knees. A simple flick of his wrist brought the lockpicks he always had stashed in his sleeves out into his hand. He shoved them into place and acted like the Queen of Ravka herself was going to bite his head off if he didn’t get the door open. Something much, much worse might happen if he failed at his task, he reminded himself.

Kaz finally got the lock to click and then flung the door open. He didn’t even bother trying to raise to his feet before he shoved himself through the doorway and into the bathroom.

Just as he had feared, Jesper was laying on the floor of the bathroom in a puddle of quickly growing blood. His white shirt and green pants had already been doused in the stuff when he had returned home with their wife, but Nina was squirming so much that they had all assumed that it was her’s. Now that his face was visible after that stupid hat had been taken off, Kaz could see that his lips were ashy and his eyes were glassy. The blood spreading out form under him into a large circle would have been proof enough of that without the rest of the symptoms.

“You stupid, stupid-” Kaz gasped as he shuffled over to his husband. He didn’t pay any attention to the sticky red mess clinging to his knees as he wrapped his arms around Jesper to bring him up slightly.

“Come on, Kaz, you’re quicker with your tongue than that,” Jesper winced.

“Shut up, you’re dying, I can’t think of something to say to you other than the fact that you’re dying!” he nearly screamed. He turned towards the door. “Inej! Wylan! Someone come help!”

“I’m sorry, Kaz,” Jesper whispered. His voice was just as hoarse and scratchy as Kaz’s was when he had spent the entire day shouting at the other Dregs. It made Kaz wonder how long he had been in there screaming or repressing noises for.

“Where are you hit?” he demanded. He gently placed his husband back down on the ground and then began the laborious job of trying to undo twenty buttons with shaking hands.

“Chest, s’upper right quadrant,” Jesper gasped out. The hand furthest away from Kaz raised up so that he could gesture vaguely at it like that would somehow help.

Kaz eventually ended up wrenching the two pieces of fabric away from each other, sending buttons flying everywhere. “Shit, fuck, Jes,” he whispered as he saw the actual scene in front of him. The bullet had entered just to the left of Jesper’s shoulder so that it had shattered his collarbone, but there was another wound underneath that. There were two wounds that weren’t bleeding at the same rate because the other man’s binder had managed to act as a sort of tourniquet despite the garment being ruined.

“We’re going to get you help, we’re going to figure this out,” Kaz whispered. Despite himself, he reached up and cupped Jesper’s face with his hand just to remind himself that his husband was still there.

“Probably not, I think,” Jesper groaned as he let his gray eyes fall shut in a grimace. “At least I didn’t go out because I was a Grisha.”

“No, you went out because I love you,” Kaz whispered. “No, fuck this, you’re not dying. INEJ!”

He heard footsteps on the wooden ground of their hotel before the aforementioned woman appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened almost comically when she saw the blood before she sprinted away. He knew that he was getting her suture kit and the others to come and help him repair their husband, but he couldn’t help but feel that he had been abandoned. He was left with Jesper, who was bleeding out in his arms because he hadn’t valued his own life enough to tell them that he had been wounded too.

13 notes · View notes

squeebies · 2 years

Text

nick furcillo x gn reader [fluff]

took me a week but my second post !! now who do i do next heheeh ………

You wished your blood would wash out easier. As you trembled over a quiet stream, trying to clean the large gash in your forearm (a scratch compared to what you’ve seen happen to your fellow counselors) and the taste of blood from your mouth, all you hoped was that your blood would wash out easier. And that you’d get home, but as the night progressed that seemed to matter less and less.

Or maybe it mattered now more than ever, considering the looming arrival of daybreak. Maybe you could live to see another day. To get home.

You choked back a sob, the exhaustion and thrill of the night finally settling in. The tears in your eyes and smell of blood overwhelmed you, it was as if you could puke. You felt like you were fighting a losing game; everyone was hurt, and Nick was …

Well, nobody knew what Nick was.

Every part of you wanted to scream - to plead for someone to help you. Cuts and bruises littered your arms and legs, proof that (so far) you’ve overcome the bullshit of this night. And that you were pretty clumsy prey, but the former option made you more optimistic.

Because even when you’re caked in mud and dirt, and starting to feel a little woozy from the blood loss, you have to stay optimistic.

Optimistic that the sound you just heard - that soft ‘crunch’ of that dead branch - was a squirrel. Maybe even a bear, at least then you may have a fighting chance.

Compared to what else you found out lived in these woods.

“(Y/N) ..?” You couldn’t tell what you felt when you heard his voice: fear, maybe nausea? You whipped your head around.

Nick stood there, clad in shreds. A tree supported most of his weight, his weak form soddened from the rain and (hopefully) his own blood. He tried to catch his breath, his voice strained and scratchy, “Are - are you okay?”

You watched him defensively; his eyes were a deep brown - deeper than they were at the poolhouse, anyway. You swallowed, “I’m ok.” You shakily rose to your feet, “Are - are you-“

“I’m alright.”

You didn’t worry about whether that was a lie or not - you didn’t care. You walked over to him hesitantly, “S-Shitty night, huh?”

“… Yea,” he didn’t laugh, instead raising a trembling thumb to your cheek, “you’re caked in blood …”

If he remembered anything about what happened, you guess he would’ve apologized by now. You pulled him into a hug, “You’re worse.”

You supposed you could wait to tell him he was practically naked, or that he was the reason your arm was so mangled. You were just glad to see him human, see him as anything but that abomination that chased you through the woods.

You backed away and looked down to his hands: no claws - soft, too, as if he hadn’t been walking on them all night. That thought made your stomach weak, that he’d been through such hell and yet the first thing he did when he saw you was ask if you were okay.

You assumed he didn’t really have to worry about himself, considering the shotgun wound from Abi - as well as any other potential wounds (the one on his leg, especially) - were nowhere to be seen.

“Holy shit,” he gasped and cradled your injured arm, “Jesus, (Y/N).”

You tensed in pain, “Shit, let go. It’s okay - I mean,” you studied the injury, “I wasn’t bit. I don’t think.”

“‘Bit’?” Nick questioned, “What do you mean? What did this?” He studied your face when you couldn’t reply, “(Y/N)?”

“… You did, Nick.” You recalled the incident at the poolhouse. How he turned, and a second later disappeared through the window.

You met him later, exactly like he’d been: inhumane strength, long claws, no skin. You couldn’t tell how many of them were out there, but you could tell the one you saw was Nick.

It’s not like every strange creature at Hackett’s Quarry had a ‘Mannington’ campus shirt on. What was left of one, at least.

He stood, speechless, his expression contorting from confusion to a hurtful contemplation. He clenched his jaw, “Fuck, (Y/N) …”

He wrapped his arms around your waist - a cautious attempt at a hug. You wrapped your good arm around his neck, “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” You whispered comforts in his ear as he sobbed into your hair.

“I’m - I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he stammered out apologies, his voice a weak whisper. He shook as he held you, “Please forgive me, I’m so sorry - fuck, please.” You leaned into his touch, you hoped it told him what you couldn’t.

You weren’t sure how long it’d been - only minutes, surely - but the sun was finally rising. You watched it over Nick’s shoulder, a newfound hope igniting inside of you, “We’ll be okay, I - I promise.” It suddenly felt true. It suddenly felt like everything that happened tonight was leading up to this.

He cupped your cheek and laughed through his tears, “Is - is now a bad time to admit that you look really good?”

“All … bloody?”

“No! I’m - I’m sorry, just,” he shrugged, “in my arms, I guess …”

The danger had passed, right? You weren’t sure, but it felt like now or never as he held you. You simpered, “Well, I can get used to this.”

You both laughed quietly. He pet your hair, “Can I …” His gaze went from your eyes to your lips.

You bit your cheek, “What?”

His grip on your waist tightened. He leaned closer, “Can I kiss you ..?”

You looked into his eyes: a deep brown, “Of course.”

He closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours gently. He hesitantly pinned you against the tree, one hand on your hip and the other laced with yours. His knee pressed between your legs, his hands moving up to your waist as he kissed you deeper. When you parted he kissed your cheek.

He smiled, “Wow, you’re - that was …” He trailed off, his embarrassment evident. He pulled you back into his chest, “I’m just … wow.”

He held you tightly, the dull thumping of his heart soothing you. It reminded you he wasn’t going anywhere, you weren’t either.

You heard the police sirens distantly - just a little longer and everyone would be okay. You hoped so, at least.

“Nick?”

“Yea?”

You pulled him closer, “One more time ..?”

#the quarry #the quarry game #the quarry x reader #fanfic #imagines #the quarry nick #nick furcillo #nick furcillo x reader

322 notes · View notes

whumpily-ever-after · 1 year

Text

It's Okay to Not Be Okay Whump List

Summary: It’s Okay to Not Be Okay (Psycho but It’s Okay) follows three people who are each trying to fight (or ignore) their demons and make it through life. Brothers Gang-tae and Sang-tae are on the run from a traumatic past and their latest move take them back to their hometown where they are joined by Mun-yeong who keeps her own trauma buried. The three of them learn how to become a family while being forced to face the traumas of their past.

Country: South Korea

Year: 2020

Genre: Psychological, comedy, romance, drama, fairy tale elements

Watch it on: Netflix

Note: This show does not have a lot of physical whump but it is full of emotional whump. There is so much crying. This show is also very good. It has great characters and found family. I highly recommend it.

Possible spoilers ahead...

Whumpee: Moon Gang-tae played by Kim Soo Hyun

Episode 1: Scolded because of his brother’s actions, scars on his body, pushed into a sound table, blood running down his arm, grabbed the blade of a knife, cut on hand wrapped, wincing in pain, told to stop hurting himself, forced to take the fall for an incident out of his control, loses his job, catches a helmet with his wounded hand, wincing and grunting in pain

Episode 2: Someone grabs his wounded hand by accident, wincing in pain; causes his wounded hand to bleed again, bloody bandages; flashback to the murder of his other when he was a child and him running away with his brother; told he is running away because he’s scared, called a coward, teary-eyed

Episode 3: Crying

Episode 4: Threatened; flashback to his childhood with his mother; emotional, teary-eyed; yelled at, lightly punched in the chest, slapped; crying; concern for him

Episode 5: Lets his brother hit him, holds his arm, says he got what he deserved

Episode 6: Says he is done being someone who is needed by others; his brother crashes into him, pushed him through a door and onto the ground, hit repeatedly, crying, scared, told his brother abandoned him; flashback to him falling in a frozen river as a child; crying

Episode 7: Told he whimpers like a dog when he sleeps because his heart is hurting; crying about his mother; crying, says he misses his mother

Episode 8: Crying; suspended from work

Episode 9: Water is thrown at him, his brother brings up painful memories, crying, falls to the floor, shakes his head in denial, has a breakdown

Episode 10 (this is the Moon Gang Tae downward spiral episode): (Picks up from previous episode) Has a breakdown; feels guilty for his actions as a child, asks why she saved him (from the frozen river), crying; feels guilty for doing something for himself and not focusing on his brother, crying; told to work on getting himself together, crying, says he doesn’t want to be born again; begs for his brother’s forgiveness, crying, asks not to be abandoned; sick, concern for him; worried about someone

Episode 11: Sick, cared for, sleeping; his brother bites his arm, gets into a fight with his brother, bruise on his cheek, bloody nose

Episode 12: Finds a threatening message sent to his brother, worried; hears his brother's account of their mother’s murder, thinks his girlfriend’s mother murdered his mother; punches a door, crying; wraps his hand, lashes out, crying; crying, falls to his knees

Episode 13: Concerned for his family, crying

Episode 14: Betrayed; asks if he’s ill-fated; crying; told to admit that he’s weak; asks for a hug, says that he’s scared, his brother says he’ll protect him; brother taken by the person who killed their mother, goes to meet them; concern for him; sees his unconscious brother

Episode 15: Confronts the person who killed his mother, told the story of what happened to his mother; crying, stabbed with a syringe (drugged), holding his side, stumbling back, falls to his knees, uses himself as a human shield (to protect someone he loves from hurting someone else), stabbed in the hand, collapses, passes out, concern for him, the person who killed his mother moves to stab him; unconscious in a bed, hooked up to an IV, hand bandaged; asked to leave; crying

Episode 16: He and his brother go their separate ways, crying

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #kdrama #whump list #whumplist #moon gang tae #kim so hyun

62 notes · View notes

prelovednikaidou · 2 years

Text

devotion :: gojo satoru

genre: angst

content warning: historical fantasy setting, 1st POV, afab reader

trigger warning: past child abuse, forced child labour, mention of suicide, enslavement

author's note: this is a 10 chapters story. enjoy !!

It was winter. Yes, winter. If my memory is still true, it was winter when I met him. The harsh weather where the dry wind were strong, the little-to-none sunlight that came through the cracks of the broken roof, the biting cold that slowly consumed ones body with no heat - it was winter when I almost died and he saved me.

Can I count it as a help? Perhaps he just didn't wish to witness a death in his life thus why he reached out his hand or maybe, he just felt guilty if he didn't help a dying person. None of them mattered to be honest. I was still saved by him at the end of the day.

I knew him at one glance. Gojo Satoru. His name sounded elegant and rich, coming from the mouth of a slave like me. I never received a name. People called me "Hey" "Hoi" and "Dimwit" for most of the times, so only recently I figured out that those weren't names. It did make me feel a little embarrassed. How silly, for me to be happy that I finally have something that belong to me when I never did.

His appearance was beautiful too, benefitting to his name and aura. But he didn't suit this place. He was better suited in a lavish mansion with tons of servants lined up to serve him. He deserved to be in a shaded area where his pale skin wouldn't be burned by the hot sun. He deserved to be in a place where pretty people go. Anywhere but this place.

Yet what was he doing here?

I often met him in the back of the kitchen, rummaging through the leftovers from the dishes I was supposed to clean. While it was dirty and disgusting to eat from someone else's leftovers, I understand how it felt to be so hungry that even biting your own arm won't reduce the hunger. Being hungry for people like me isn't simply craving. It means that my body is at the final limit and if I still couldn't eat, then I will die.

So it became a routine for me to sit in silence while I picked up any edibles from the plates, separate them to a small piece of cloth. It did take a while for him to come so when he did, I often saw purple bruises on his cheek. That must have hurt a lot but he remained quiet. Both of use ate from the food I saved and none of us said anything. Not that by asking him, "Is it painful?" would change anything. I've been hit like that before. I knew the answer.

There were times where he didn't come to eat too. Sometimes, he went to disappear for days and when he returned, he barely looked like a human. I didn't say anything. I only looked at him, pulled the hem of his clothes while he trotted behind me and entered my room. It wasn't a room. It was an abandoned storage room for alcohol. It reeks of a heavy stench and mould, it was also humid and hot.

"Sit down, I'll see your wounds." I said. His blue eyes were so beautiful but they didn't shine.

Gojo Satoru complied to my words and showed his torso. The bulge of his ribcage could be seen from the malnourished body, sickly thin and the dent inwards his tummy was so deep. Was he kicked? I wonder what he did.

I grabbed the dry bread I hit under my ragged pillow and took the water I collected earlier. Soaking the bread into the water until it became soggy, I crushed it to smallest pieces until it diluted into the water. He couldn't eat because his mouth was full of blood. Was he missing tooth? Or did he get his tongue cut off? I didn't realise that while I was stirring the cloudy and lumpy liquid in the broken bowl, I was crying.

What did we do for us to suffer like this? Should we just kill ourself for this pain to end? Would this life get better if we continue to believe that fate has arranged everything for us?

"Don't cry." He said. It was barely heard but I knew that even forcing himself to speak would be so painful. The purple deep marks around his neck must have broken his voice cord. We both knew that tears won't do anything. I didn't cry when I was slapped so hard that I fell sick for days. I didn't cry when my stomach felt like twisting my inside dry. I didn't cry for what happened to me because I accepted the reality.

Yet it took another living person, who experienced just like what I did, for me to understand that we were indeed suffering.

"Toru, do you want to continue living like this?" I asked.

His eyes were deep and dark, hiding everything from me. I couldn't see clearly anymore as tears rushed to the damp of my eyes so heavily, and I put down his food. Holding his fingers that were full of callous and missing nails, I smiled to him and asked again,

"Toru, do you want to continue living?"

At that moment, I saw how Satoru was indeed a strong person. Under such a heavy condition, he continued to live and live, worked his bones to death and never stopped but me?

I couldn't live like this. I didn't know when it happened but every time I closed my eyes, I have the fear of not waking up. Ironic but I should be glad that I'll be dead, right? But no. I needed to wake up everyday because if I died, what would happen to him?

What would happen to the boy who sought mw out through the rain, the one who brought me to the highest roof when the flood was wiping away the villagers?

What would happen to him? I wasn't ready to let him go. I wasn't ready to acknowledge the fact that I had always been reliant on him. I knew from the moment he saved me from the clutch of the old mad man, that I will go everywhere he goes.

"I am in pain, Toru. My tummy hurts and I've been peeing blood. I'm going to die, Toru. But I don't want to leave you. I want to stay with you for the rest of my life. But my body doesn't allow me, Toru. I don't fear death but I fear of not meeting you anymore. I fear that I have to wait for years in the grave until I can meet you again but what if you go to Heaven and I don't? What if this is the last I can see you? You're in front of me yet I've already planned on missing you. What should I do, Toru?"

"Then don't leave." He said.

In his eyes, there was a small face reflected. My face could be seen in his clear eyes and he calmly stroked the side of my cheek, he winced a little and for the first time in my life, I saw the two tail of his lips quirked into a smile.

A smile that is gentle, a smile that didn't mean any harm towards me and a smile that resemble the innocence of a young boy where he said,

"Wherever I go, I'll bring you with me. We will grow out of this place and I will take you to mang places you have never seen before."

I saw he took something out of his pocket, a small round ceramic container and before long, he uncapped the lid and it was a lip rouge. Gojo Satoru had the proudest face at that moment as his shaky fingers swapped over the red cream and slowly reached for my lips.

I could never forget how relieved he looked when his trembling finger finally landed on my chapped lips. Rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip, the crack in his voice could be heard as he whispered,

"Alas, good people deserve good things."

His sincere smile as he applied the lip rouge over my lips, the clear eyes of his where he never looked down on me, the soft tone he used when he talked to me -

how could I not devote myself to you?

>> Chapter 2

Taglist: [comment because my google form isn't working]

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x yn #gojo x you #toji jjk #megumi jjk #zenin clan #tw dark content #read warning

175 notes · View notes