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stylesispunk · 6 months

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"Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby"

Detective!Javier peña x f!reader

Prologue | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: You were kidnapped one winter night, but you have no memories of the incident or the person who took you. A year later, a homicide leads Javier Peña to your door, seeking help. He soon learns that he must protect the woman he loves.

chapter warnings: mentions of kidnapping, death, angst. The story doesn't follow the plot from narcos, but the use of Javier as the main lead in this story. No proofread

w.c: 4,5k

a/n: the first chapter of this fic is here! I really want to be careful with this one in the process of writing and stuff because I'm trying not to feel pressured. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think!! Remember if you want to be taglisted, you can tell me <3.

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dividers by @/saradika

Thump.

Chest raising slowly, in short breaths that made your heart ram against your ribcage.

Thump.

The blood pounded in your ears. Your hands shook. Your legs tingled. Your vision blurred, casting shadows of gray colors around your head, threatening to hurt.

Thump.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

You closed your eyes tight, taking a long, slow, deep breath, then lifted your gaze, meeting the eyes of the detective sitting in front of you, looking around your house as if you would be able to find some answers tied to that unfortunate event that had happened to you a year ago.

Poor woman, he must have thought as he looked at your poor, weak woman.

You studied him—the way his nose crunched as he lost deep in thought, writing down things in his journal or whatever the hell he brought with him. His moustache over his lip, the creases of his soft-toned skin, and his dark brown eyes that had just met your gaze again.

Javier’s heart stopped beating for a second, feeling a strange feeling against his ribcage, stealing the air from his lungs. It must be sympathy; the turmoil was evident in your eyes. He had seen that same look from horror countless times before, but yours was different.

To him.

"What does it have to do with me?” You asked, avoiding his intense stare. Just the mere name of what he had told you made your hands tremble.

“I just told you. “He answered with a calmness that made your blood boil. As if it were just a routine question of your day.

“No,” you spat. “I’m just trying to heal from that, and you came here asking me things I’m not able to remember and I don’t want to." Your voice got cut by a small sob.

It was a deep scar, something you were too afraid to remember, something that had made you lose an entire year of life, stealing memories from your story you would never meet.

“He left a note for you; that means he knows you’re in this city and that you may be in danger.”

Javier's expression softened as he watched your emotional outburst, his heart aching with empathy for the pain you were experiencing. He knew that he had touched a raw nerve, dredging up memories and emotions that you had fought so hard to bury.

“I can’t go through all that again,” you whispered, closing your palms with so much pressure that you could feel the skin getting ripped by your nails.

The warm touch of Javier’s palms over your hands stopped you in short as you lifted your gaze again to look at him again. His own hands reached out instinctively to grasp yours, preventing you from inflicting further harm on yourself. He could feel the tension in your fingers, the pressure building as you struggled to contain the emotions raging within you.

"I understand," he said gently, his voice a soothing presence in the midst of your turmoil. "I know that this must be incredibly difficult for you, but as a detective, I’m asking you to let me protect you.”

Did he just say, “Let me protect you”?

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked carefully.

Javier's gaze softened as he listened to your question, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain and uncertainty. He had spoken the words without hesitation, driven by a deep-seated instinct to shield you from harm, but he understood that his offer of protection might not be what you wanted or needed.

"If you don't want me to protect you, I won't force you," he replied gently, his voice tinged with understanding.

Your hands were burning under his gentle touch, and his eyes were diesel to your own gaze. You both could feel the intensity of the electricity running through your veins as you connected somehow.

Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingered within you, there was a flicker of hope igniting in your heart, ignited by his dark pools looking at you.

Both of you were awfully quiet, maybe so lost in the intensity of your touch over each other's skin that you didn't hear the door closing off. Your best friend, Alice, had just arrived from her running session.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of Javier holding your hands, his gaze locked with yours in a moment of quiet connection. There was a furrow of concern between her brows as she glanced between the two of you, silently urging you to explain the unexpected presence of the detective in your living room.

You could feel the weight of her scrutiny as you struggled to find the right words to explain the situation. Javier, too, seemed to sense the tension in the air, his grip on your hands tightening slightly as he prepared himself to face the questions that were sure to come.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to Alice, your voice faltering slightly as you began to speak. "Alice, this is Detective Javier," you said, your words coming out in a rush. "He's here to help me with...”

Your explanation hung in the air, as you didn’t know how to keep explaining the presence of Javier, but Alice's expression softened with understanding as she nodded, her eyes flickering with concern as she glanced back and forth between you and Javier.

“I’m Alice Wilson; I’m her best friend, by the way,” she introduced herself to Javier.

“Javier Peña,” he said, shaking hands with the girl.

There was a brief pause after the greetings, but Javier cut it off in a second. “Could I talk to you for a second?” he asked Alice, not without looking at you as if asking for permission.

You nodded, walking out of the living room towards the kitchen. You placed the palm of your hands over the kitchen counter, and you gripped the borders with strong force, trying to stop the hammer from beating your brain. You had tried; you had tried so hard to make an effort and remember what had happened that night and the whole year that came after, but you simply couldn’t; you were waiting for it to go away to a dark sea of monsters where your nightmares rest.

But what if the death of that woman was your fault?

You didn’t want your life to be tainted by the ghost of your worst fears, from your captor.

Your heart started beating so loudly against your ribcage that you felt Alice and Javier would be able to hear it.

"Hey,” a voice banished the monster lurking in your thoughts away. His voice did.

You turned around, timidly facing him. You couldn’t take your eyes away from his figure once you did. There was something about him that you weren’t able to decipher yet.

“I’m heading out,” he informed.

"Okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, pursing his lips as he contemplated what he was about to say: “If... If you change your mind about it, please call me. I let my number with your friend.”

You nodded, and Javier graced a small smile on his lips. "Please, take care," he said, praying that that person wouldn’t find you.

As he made his way towards the door, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of him leaving. Despite your initial reluctance to accept his help, you had come to rely on his brief presence, as if something invisible were pulling you towards him.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” Alice broke your bubble of thoughts.

"Are you thinking about calling him?" You asked, jealously flickering at the thought of him with your friend.

“Me?" She chuckled. "If someone stole his heart, it was you."

"I don't know about that," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you turned away from the door. "He's just doing his job, after all."

Alice raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Maybe," she said, her tone teasing. "But I saw the way he looked at you. There was something there, whether you want to admit it or not."

You felt it too, but you didn’t feel ready to admit it.

As Javier was walking towards his car, his phone started ringing.

Murphy.

With a sigh, he looked behind him towards your house, then answered his phone.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern as he braced himself for whatever news Murphy had to deliver.

On the other end of the line, Murphy's voice crackled with urgency. "A girl," he said quickly. "Around twenty-five, she missed her friend’s party; she found herself unlived in the morning.”

Javier's heart skipped a beat at the news, cursing at the sky or whoever was allowing this to happen.

"Where?" he asked, his voice firm with determination. "Give me the details, and I'll be there as soon as possible."

Javier ended the call and hurried towards his car, gazing at your house for the last time, and as soon as he drove towards the scene of the crime, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, hoping against hope that he could bring an end to the nightmare that had plagued your life for far too long.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger.

"Denisse Around twenty-five, she missed her friend’s party; she found her friend like this in the morning,” Steve explained.

Javier couldn’t take his eyes off the victim, who was lying still on her bed, dressed in a white gown with flowers on her lap. She seemed to be at peace, resting, as if her life would have been taken by a crazy bastard who wanted to reach you.

You were the only thought in his mind.

This girl, again, looked like you—the features on her face, the hair.

“Javier”

He came back from his own thoughts, lifting his gaze at Lauren, who was wearing a worried expression on her face.

“What?” he asked simply.

“I asked, What had happened to you? You seemed lost.”

“I met the girl. The one from Boston.” His voice felt heavy. "It's just... too much of a coincidence."

Lauren's expression softened with understanding as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know," she said softly. "But we'll figure this out, Javier. We'll find the truth, no matter what."

“No, you don’t understand; he is trying to capture her image on these girls.”

“And what did she say?” Steve asked, confused at his partner's demeanor.

“She doesn’t remember.”

“It's a shame; I'm sure that if she could remember. It would help us close his case and stop the crimes.” Steve said

“No shit" Javier said, angry. He was furious at everyone and at himself, so he walked away from the scene of the crime.

As Javier stormed away from the scene of the crime, Lauren hurried after him, her concern evident in every step she took. She caught up to him just as he reached his car, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Javier, wait," she called out, her voice soft but urgent. "What's wrong? Why did you speak to Steve like that?"

Javier paused, his hands gripping the material of his shirt. He struggled to contain his emotions. He knew that he had lashed out unfairly at his partner, but the frustration and anger boiling within him were too overwhelming to ignore.

"I'm sorry, Lauren," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "I just... I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something crucial here. These girls—they're not just random victims. He's targeting them for a reason, and I can't help but feel like it's all connected to her."

Lauren nodded understandingly, her eyes filled with empathy as she placed a gentle hand on Javier's arm. “I know”

Matthew gazed at his partner, trying to find reassurance in her words and in her presence, as he had always felt since he had met her, but his thoughts and worst nightmares were drifting to you.

He didn’t confess, but his biggest fear was that you would be the next victim on the list.

“You aren’t hungry." Alice, who was sitting next to her, had not eaten anything either; being too scared that something bad could possibly happen to her friend was too much to bear.

You shook your head slightly. “I can’t stop thinking.”

"No,” Alice said, touching your arm.

“There is another girl who has died.” You tried to explain, “It’s my

“Don’t even say that,” Alice interrupted. “I know it’s not easy for you to try to erase what has happened.” She held her gaze on yours for a moment.

“Alice”

“Why don’t you lie down and try to rest?” She suggested that worry was creeping up on her.

“I can’t sleep,” you replied, sad at the thought that you would never be happy again.

“I’ll give you a pill, but please rest,” she said, delicately brushing her fingertips on your naked arms.

She helped her up: “Come on, you’re going to take a warm shower, and then you’re going to go to bed, and I’ll bring you the pill, and you’ll try to sleep.”

You nodded without protesting, allowing your friend to look after you, at least for today.

But then the doorbell stopped the both of you from taking another step. Your body tensed up, and Alice, noticing the movements, walked towards the door, peeking through the peephole before opening it.

Who could it be at this time?

“It's Javier,” she announced before opening the door.

There he was, Javier Peña, standing next to the door with a wide smile on his face. “Excuse me for showing up at this hour, but I need to talk to you,” he said, looking at you, who had not taken your eyes off him since Alice had opened the door. The light illuminating the porch and the shine emanating from his brown eyes made you feel like you were naked under his stare.

His hair was messy, and some curls fell over his forehead. Your eyes traveled down over his jawline towards his neck. A little further down, a bit of dark, curly hair peeked through the white shirt he was wearing.

The trance that Isabella seemed to have fallen into faded when she heard her friend's voice. “Come in, detective.”

“Thank you.”

Isabella continued without saying a word, just a couple of steps away from him.

“Well, I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said, turning around and disappearing from the room while her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“Do you want to have a coffee?” You asked, getting nervous; your hands were starting to sweat.

“No, thank you,” he said, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at seeing you again.

“Take a seat,” you indicated.

Javier looked at you as you sat on the edge of the couch. He didn’t know what to do or say, so finally he ended up sitting next to you. He followed his instincts.

No one spoke, and the silence became increasingly heated and tense. Javier stretched his arm over the back of the couch, and his finger almost touched your hair. He wondered what it would feel like to feel the softness of the hair under his fingertips.

On the other hand, your bare knee brushed against the rough fabric of his jeans. Your soft friction caused a wave of intense sensations in you that rose to your throat. Then you looked at him, and Javier could barely contain the urgency to cup your face and kiss all the fears away.

He must concentrate on his work while thinking about protecting you.

“I wanted to see how you were doing; I guess you already know.”

You nodded; however, you tried to process what his words meant. She knew that, perhaps, it was just part of her job as a detective. After all, it was one of her duties to look after the well-being of the people, but the way he looked at her while she was complaining about her made her think otherwise. He was worried about her and her safety, worried about what might happen to her, and he had come to her house in the middle of the night to check on her.

“I can’t stop thinking everything is my fault. I’m destroyed; the crimes, my kidnapping, that person, you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you want things from me, and I don't know if I can give them to you. You came into my life, telling me you need my help to stop a murder and asking me to remember things I can’t and would rather not.”

“I'm sorry; I've never wanted to pressure you.”

“I know you're sorry, and you're just trying to do your job.”

“Believe me, I would never have wanted you to be involved in all this, but unfortunately, there is someone else out there who wants just the opposite.” He was dying to hug you and taste those lips that moved restlessly from side to side while you listened to him. Try the taste of your mouth and get drunk with it until he loses his mind.

You could feel it too—the magnetic pull between the two of you. You needed to move away from him and put a little distance between you. You could feel the stare of his intense brown eyes on your back. You ran your hand over your neck, and your pulse accelerated. What Javier caused was something new, a feeling you had never experienced before, clouding all your senses. You could feel it in your trembling legs.

“It’s late.” You spoke.

“I know; I don’t know why I came here,” he responded, smiling.

“I'll walk you to the door.” He walked past you, and, for a second, you thought he would stop you and kiss you passionately. But it wasn't like that. You went out with him to the porch and tried to appear as calm as possible. "See you."

As Javier walked towards his car, you felt a sudden surge of desperation wash over you. The magnetic pull between the two of you was undeniable, and you found yourself longing for his presence, craving the comfort that he seemed to offer despite the chaos surrounding your life.

"Javier," you called out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned back towards you, his gaze searching yours for a moment before he spoke. "Yes?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should voice the sudden impulse that had taken hold of you. But then, with a deep breath, you found the courage to speak.

"Could you... take me to a bar?" You asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Just to relax, you know?"

Javier's expression softened at your request, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t correct. “Of course," he replied, his voice gentle. "I'd be happy to, but you must tell Alice first; I don’t want her to worry about you.”

You put a smile on your lips and nodded.

The bar was dimly lit, with a low hum of conversation filling the air. Javier found a quiet corner booth for the two of you, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowded bar, in disguise as if he were your protector, and he was doing his job somehow. As you settled into your seats, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. You were grateful for the chance to escape the chaos in your mind for a second.

"What can I get you?" Javier asked, gesturing towards the menu on the table.

You glanced over the options, and the weight of your recent experiences was still heavy on your mind. "Just a glass of wine, please," you replied softly.

Javier nodded, signaling to the bartender as he ordered your drinks. As you waited for them to arrive, you couldn't help but steal glances at Javier, his presence comforting and reassuring in the dimly lit bar.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "I needed this."

Javier smiled, his gaze warm as he met yours. He could feel his heart beating faster at the sight of you under the lights, looking so ethereal. He didn’t know if love felt like this, but the feeling was like this; it terrified him. It terrified him to think about what he would do for you.

The bartender returned with your drinks, setting them down on the table with a soft clink of glass. You took a sip of your wine, the rich taste soothing against your parched throat. As you savored the moment, you couldn't shake the feeling of Javier's eyes on you.

"I'm sorry if I've been too forward," Javier said suddenly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I want to help in any way I can."

I care about you.

You shook your head, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "I want to help you with the case.”

Javier's eyes widened in surprise at your words, a flicker of hope dancing in their depths. "You do?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, a determined expression settling on your features. "Yes," you replied firmly. "I want to remember. I want to help put an end to all of this."

A sense of relief washed over Javier at your words, a weight lifting from his shoulders at the thought of your cooperation in the investigation. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'll do everything I can to help you remember."

As you continued to talk, Javier mentioned the idea of finding a hypnotist who could help you unlock your memories. "There's a hypnotist, I know," he said, his voice hopeful. "He's helped other people in similar situations before. Maybe he can help you too."

You considered his suggestion for a moment; the prospect of uncovering the truth was both daunting and enticing. But deep down, you knew it was the right decision. "Let's do it," you said finally, a sense of determination coursing through your veins. "I'm ready to face whatever memories may come, but please be patient with me.”

"Of course," he replied gently, his voice filled with reassurance. "I'll be right there beside you every step of the way, supporting you through it all."

Back at your house, on the porch, with his jacket around your shoulders, your body felt heavier, as if it were tightening your throat, hurting from the words dancing around waiting to come out.

One day, his presence became a drug you wanted to try.

One day, your presence was bathing in sunlight on his skin.

But you were a victim, and he was a detective playing with becoming a hero; he clearly wasn't. It was all for you, all for the desire to be your

Was he becoming obsessed with the idea of you just as the person following your track, threatening to snatch the wings of an angel from your back?

Javier couldn't stop thinking if you could perceive him as a pervert, as the thoughts of your ethereal company made him think about, or the words he would whisper in your ear for only you to hear.

Would you see him as your protector?

"Javier," you broke the silence with your voice and soothing melody, which he could listen to for the rest of his life. You tried to take his jacket off your shoulder, but he stopped you.

“Keep it. This isn't the last time you'll see me.”

You graced a smile at him, and Javier felt he could be used to face the death, and he had come to peace with it, but you? He wasn't ready for what he was becoming because of you; he wasn't ready for the possibility of you slipping away from his fingers and losing you to a monster. He didn't know how to love someone or how to take care of someone who wasn't him, yet you seemed to have turned his world upside down.

He was scared of changing, scared of your hold over him, and scared of your captor because you feared him.

“See you,” you said.

“See you,” he also said, leaning to press a kiss on your cheek. “Take care.”

The small kiss lingered like a gentle caress, leaving a warm path and spreading through your entire being.

You kept quiet, completely still, while looking at how Javier walked toward his car. You leaned against the door, looking up at the sky, before going back inside the house again.

A silhouette mingled among the shadows that the same moon capriciously drew that night. No one perceived it, and no one heard the name that silhouette whispered.

daisy, daisy, daisy.

The next day at the office, everything felt smooth; there wasn’t another victim to cry for, but still, there was no information or indication they could use to find the murderer, and that was an issue. He was becoming obsessed with a case he needed to solve for his own sake.

“Did you sleep badly?" Lauren asked while looking through some details of the case.

Javier massaged his neck with smooth movements, but nothing was able to calm the pain that pricked insistently in his muscles. After seeing you last night, he couldn’t find a way to go back to sleep.

“This pain is killing me a bit.”

"You should relax a bit," Lauren said, sitting down. She tucked her hair behind her ears.

As if it were easy, he thought.

“News?” he asked, but his expectations were killed once he looked at his partner, wearing a resigned expression on her face. “Nothing important; there are no footprints found; we have no evidence, nor am I a suspect.”

“What about cameras?” Javier asked, exasperated.

"No,” but her partner didn’t seem happy with the answer. “Come on, Javi. Don’t let this case take the best of you.”

“I know, when we solve this case, I’ll go to Italy or something, but now just let’s focus on it, please.”

Lauren nodded, walking back to her office and continuing to work. Once in a while, she lifted her gaze, and he looked focused on the screen on his laptop with sad eyes adorning his features.

She was about to get up from her seat, go over to him, and caress his shoulders to show him her support and to show him she was there, but at that moment the door opened violently, and you entered his office as if you were running from some danger.

Javier jumped out of his chair. He was perplexed to see you in such a state.

"Javi,” you said, throwing yourself desperately into his arms.

Javier's heart skipped a beat at the way you whispered "javi", at the urgency in your voice and the way you had thrown yourself into his arms. Concern flooded his expression as he held you close, instinctively wanting to protect you from whatever danger had caused you to seek refuge in his office.

“Javier, he was at my house." You took a moment to catch your breath, the fear still evident in your gaze as you recounted the events that had led you here. "He was at my house," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion.

It was all happening again.

tags: @christinamadsen @romanarose (if you want to be removed, you can tell me 🥺)

#fic: nothing's gonna hurt you baby #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javi peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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6leggedhorse · 19 days

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Mimics: What are they? How to Prevent Them From Running Your Fade? Signs of a Mimic?

Aahhh, TikTok, a recent trend in TikTok is the paranormal phenomenon of Mimics. Mimics are essentially spirits that take the form of you or some else’s voice and or presence and attempts to seek you out or lure you out. You may have heard of them in a game called Phasmophobia or seen videos on TikTok depicting the presence of them. But before get into it, grab your favorite snack and drink, perhaps get your pet, get comfy and let’s dive into these creepy things!

What exactly is a Mimic?

According to a user on the r/paranormal subreddit, a mimic can be described as a phenomenon where you may be alone at home or the person you live with is a completely different spot of the home and you hear their voice, laughter or they’re trying to open your door. This could be left over energy from the home, it could be something much more sinister and or aggressive even. They want to use you for something, whether it is to feed on your energy, feed off fear, whatever their intentions are do not let them lure you into where ever it is they’re at or have them come to you. The more acknowledge the mimic with fear, the stronger it will get. In some cases they can physically manifest into humans; which is extremely bad.

How to Not Get Your Fade Ran

- Don’t answer it: it’s that simple, if you’re home alone or in a different part of the home, and you hear your partner’s voice from the stairway but their in the backyard grilling veggie burgers and listening to Chappell Roan, something is wrong. You hear your own voice? You no didn’t. You hear grandma’s voice but she’s been deceased for a few months and she’s speaking to you in a way that is out of character? No you did not hear anything.

-Don’t show fear: It finds fear to be delicious and rather mouth watering. Showing it fear gives it power, you really need to show no fear but rather bravery and with assertiveness that it needs to get the hell out of the home.

-Cleanse the home: either on your own, with friends and or family or with someone who knows what they’re doing. Now as far as materials go, you don’t have to use Sage, in fact sometimes sage can piss off the spirit. You can try other cleansing materials, invite your deity to help you banish it.

Signs of a Mimic

- energy feels weird/off/strange: the home doesn’t exactly feel like home, it might feel heavy, intense, or even dark.

-hearing familiar voices/noises: pretty self explanatory; if your alone or in different places of the place your at and you know your alone

-Seeing familiar figures: if you see your loved one or roommate or whoever you live with, but their not home but they want you to follow them into a dark place or random place, or just seeing them in general, again ignore it and cleanse the home.

References

Epilouge

I wanted to do something spooky because summer ween is here AND fall is coming! Even though I’m a Yuletide girly myself, summer ween is fun n’ cute. I know this one was rather short and sweet, but a lot of videos or information on these things are either fictional or faked footage. Low key I am a skeptic because it has yet to happen to men even though I’ve experienced creepy things both in a casino, at my parents home and at my home as well. I hope you guys enjoy this one! Hopefully I’ll figure out another blog idea soon lol. Until next time!

#paranormal #ghost #scary #witch community #spirituality #pagan #pagan witch #witchblr #witches of tumblr #green witch #witches #witchythings #witchcore #witchcraft #spooky season #spooky vibes

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greypetrel · 9 months

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HI ARJA I’m so curious about your moby dick AU lol you always have the best AUs

HI ROWAN I'm glad you asked! :D It's gonna be a big ass rant, so it's under the cut. I'm very excited about this AU, it tackles some things I love and have first-hand experience of, so yeah, I'll be chatty about it ahahahah.

I've posted a chapter at random on AO3 and you can find some snippets in the whale au tag!

So, it's "Zoologist Aisling who thinks whales are the best thing after sliced bread saves Cullen, who happens to have survived a shipwreck caused by a whale". Shenanigans happen.

It was an idea of @shivunin (thank you again) and I'm currently trying to give it a little outline not to go totally at random. I am thinking about characters background, it's a non-magical AU and so stuff needs to be adapted. The title of the WIP is old, I realised after that... You know, it's a Moby Dick INSPIRED thing. The first idea was having Aisling as Melville and Cullen as Ishmael teaming up to write Moby Dick. Cullen has the sailing parts, Aisling filling in with conspiracy theories about whalers and spite over naturalists. And both of them inserting a gay relationship because I'm still a big part of the Bi!Cullen agenda, and that book is terribly gay.

I did realise later on that there's a limit to the horrors I'm willing to put characters through and write, and cannibalism is really NOT one. I also moved it to another period and to the 1900s because I already did research for another original project and I'm more familiar with it.

The title of the file will change when I'll have a better one for this AU.

For now I do have a background for Aisling, what she's in Nantucket to do, and I'm so happy to say @melisusthewee jumped on the bandwagon aboard with Quinn and Horatio, but I'm letting her introduce you to them in this. I'll just say that Aisling refers to Quinn as "Mr Arch-Nemesis".

She's in Nantucket for a research over sperm whales behaviour, restore her family's name (dad was a scholar too, but alas, he was caught being a member of the Fenian society and giving money to the Irish revolutionaries... She's the Royal Society's favourite person, yes) and hopefully put a brake on whale hunting (the 1900s saw the peak of killed whales, you can bet miss "I'd adopt a dragon if Bull didn't constantly prevent me to try and befriend one" won't be ok with it). Dorian and Josephine -whom I couldn't fathom being there with her, seriously I can't picture Dorian on a ship if not in first class, unless he was beaten unconscious before boarding and dragged on. Josie finances ships, sure... but being on board of one and working? A whole different thing. So, they're Aisling friends, but they stayed in London to get her fundings.

Cullen needs to find reason to get to the sea again, he was a harpooner and worked on ships all his life... After being the sole survivor, he needs to find his centre back and get on with it. The crazy whale fangirl may or may not help him on this.

And there was only one bed, of course. (have I already said that Moby Dick is VERY gay?) (I had a blast reading it, thank you so much @salsedinepicta for making me curious about it! <3 Also if you want to throw your characters in this GO ON.)

I thiiiink I may change names and design and also do something fully original. I'm particularly enthusiastic about it because it allows me to tackle stuff I experienced in my life (I did some sailing! Very little and purely recreational, but still) and to re-use some research I already did for another original project which I love dearly, but it's definitely more than I can chew on my own. If I don't chicken out because the place is linked to some trauma, I maaaaay add a part in the seaside town I spent a lot of time growing up.

But again, let's see how it goes, researching on Italy isn't the easiest thing ever if you're not aiming at Rome or the Renaissance, and we're talking about a pretty regional side of Italy. I have good hopes because the people are very very very much into their own history and claiming it back, so I may find some good infos without spitting too much blood.

it's a work in progress, but there's gonna be more about this!

#whale au #petrel replies #dragon age inquisition #dragon age AU

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phobia-sweets · 2 years

Note

Can I ask for any version of John (of your choice, which is more interesting for you to write about or which seems to you suitable for this request) and the Reader who has a habit of strongly panicking because of their health?

It seems that, for example, if this person has felt pain in the lower back (which they fell on unsuccessfully in the past), then it begins to seem to them that the consequences of the old fall are making themselves felt and soon they will have problems with walking, or even the body will stop conducting nerve impulses normally, and they will not they will be able to walk.

Oh, or, let's say, if they get sick for a particularly long time as a result of a cold, then it seems to them that their immunity has catastrophically weakened, and now they will get sick much more often and longer than before.

Being just such a person, I sympathize in advance with your John, about whom you will write XD, Although I think he is… adapts both to these bouts of anxiety on the part of the Reader, and learns to calm them down.

I'M GENUINELY SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT'S BEEN IN MY INBOX SINCE DECEMBER BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT

I had like 2 different drafts for this, deleted the other one, didn't like the one i chose, deleted it, started over... YEAH

Arkham knight! Scarecrow x reader

Warnings & Notes: I don't know what i'm doing and it's not proofread

Getting sick was a nightmare – not because of the fever, stuffy nose or how nauseous you were. No, no, you could handle those – What you couldn’t handle was the thoughts that came with it. Doubt filled your head, convincing you that what you were experiencing wasn’t just a headache– filling you with even more anxiety and fear, which only made you feel worse. Sure, you could seek out your boyfriend’s comfort, but would it help? Despite the doctors trying to convince you it was no worry, you couldn’t just believe them. What would make this any more different from that?

“What’s the matter?” Jonathan’s gravelly voice took you by surprise, seeing as you hadn’t noticed him enter the room. He was standing next to the door, his expression hard to read, like always.

“It’s nothing, really- I…” You started, looking away from him. He tilted his head at that, doubtful. “I’m just anxious. I have a headache and, well-” You sighed. “I can’t stop thinking that it might be more than just a headache.” Jonathan hummed in response, seemingly deep in thought.

- Jonathan is a (ex) psychiatrist. This means he’ll probably listen to you talk about this problem, whether it was because you’re a hypochondriac or not.

- ANYWAY, I’ve probably said this earlier, but Jonathan may seem very emotionless, but that’s not true – He still has the ability to feel emotions, sympathy included, even if he doesn’t show it or feel it as much as others.

- His strategy on calming you down? Reading. Even if he’s not willing to read to you, be it because he just refuses to do so, or because of his bad eyesight sometimes preventing him from reading, He’s willing to lend you some of his books to read.

“Frankenstein?” You questioned, turning the book in your hands.

“Something to keep your mind occupied.”

“...Thank you.” You smiled up at him, Opening the first page. Even if you couldn’t focuse on the book, you’d try your best.

- Now, if reading doesn’t help… He might have some horror movies laying around…? Or he could just sit and listen to you.

- Now, I don’t know how to console people, but he probably does. He might give you some comforting words. Might. We don’t really know if he has it in him, considering he made his patients rub salt in their eyes when he was working.

#scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x reader #arkhamverse scarecrow x reader

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emergentcounseling · 1 year

Text

Depression Does not Discriminate

Depression is a serious medical illness that has negative effects on how you feel, think and act. It also affects relationships and may affect your ability to function in various settings such as school or work. Depression common symptoms are feelings of sadness, loss of interest in activities once enjoyed, difficulty sleeping, loss of sex drive and hopelessness.

It’s important to note, that when experiencing depression, you should not try to resolve it by avoiding your feelings. Many times, people deal with their depression by “staying busy”, “avoiding the topic”, or just point-blank self-denial which can look like “no, I’m fine, seriously. Everything is good!” In my experience, depression becomes a major issue for my clients when they neglect to address their feelings. When depression takes root without “treatment”, it can lead to an onset of other issues; health decline, insomnia or even fatigue and loss of interests. Depression can even trigger crisis behaviors such as suicidal ideation. Depression can be improved through the use of medication and/or talk therapy, but the “consistent” cure is found in identifying and maintaining a consistent routine of self-care and positive coping skills throughout daily life.

Contrary to popular belief, depression isn’t just an issue for people who battle with mental illness. The truth of the matter is that all human beings experience depression whether for a brief time frame or extended period. Depression does not care about your color, ethnicity, gender or socioeconomic status. It doesn’t stereotype whether you are supported or alone; depression has no bias when it comes to who it can affect. People experience situational or circumstantial depression, which isn’t necessarily a mental illness but can often be based off of a traumatic experience, painful, or even stressful situation. Depression takes over our lives when we have identified that we are lacking something that provides us a level of peace or balance. For example, a rich man can become depressed due to isolation and loneliness, and a poor man can become depressed due to lack of financial resources. Both men are experiencing a lack, which contributes to their decline in peace and increase in stress.

One can never really get away from stress, pain or hurt as long as we are living and breathing beings. It is important to have the coping skills needed to navigate through the ups and downs of life. Through my own personal experiences and the experiences of the client’s I serve, I have found the most effective way to prevent and cope through depression has been integrating daily self-care habits.

Here are some great tips to regulate mood and decrease depression:

Learn to UNPLUG (disconnect from social media, emails, text messages and other things that triggers decline in mood even if it’s just 30 minutes a day)

Make time to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner (poor diet or irregular eating can create an imbalance in mood)

Laugh often! (watching comedy, do something silly, avoid viewing horror or sad media/TV)

Explore self-care routine (Regulate sleep times, diet, pampering, and fun activities)

Seek counseling (talk through your feelings instead of hiding them)

Exercise (Run, walk, swim or skate can get those endorphins in your body to elevate your mood)

Access healthy supports such as friends and family. If you don’t have have supports you can join a local support group for individuals who struggle with depression. A great resource for support is Celebrate Recovery they are located through the US and is a powerful source of support.

No matter what you do, if you are experiencing any form of depression avoiding or keeping busy will not solve the problem, seek proper outlets and validate every single feeling with embrace and strategy. Its’s okay to feel, but it’s dangerous to suppress what you feel and not allow yourself to heal.

Get support now! Request an appointment.

#depression #discriminate

0 notes

book-place · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home

Warnings: guns, kidnapping, mentions of drinking and being drunk, running away, a little bit of violence, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Batfamily x batsis!reader

*not my gif*

Summary: You were the one to make the decision to run away all of those years ago, so you really have no one to blame but yourself for the situation you now find yourself in

A/N: This took me a long time- please let me know if you enjoy it

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You slowly opened your eyes with a muffled groan, your brain seemed to be trying to pound its way out of your skull.

When your eyes were finally able to squint open, you looked around, trying to assess your location because you didn’t remember the last thing that happened to you.

Your first guess was that you ended up going to a party and got blackout drunk, which would explain the headache and amnesia you were experiencing, until you realized that you were tied to a chair in an unfamiliar room.

Your eyes finally fully snapped open and your still throbbing head whipped around in a mix of utter confusion and fear. Your hands and feet were tied behind you so tightly that you could feel your circulation being cut off, and the piece of duct tape over your mouth was making it hard to breathe in your panicked state.

The room that you were in was dark except for what seemed to be a very bright spotlight shining directly at you. The room was big enough and ceilings were high enough to where you guessed that you were in some sort of warehouse.

“Oh good, she’s awake.” An unfamiliar man walked out from the shadows and into the light right in front of you, the smirk on his face sent shivers down your spine. “I was beginning to worry that my men had killed you.”

You only stared at him, eyes wide. Even if you wanted to say something, the large piece of tape over your mouth prevented you from doing so. If it wasn’t there though, you probably still wouldn’t have been able to say anything out of fear.

Then it all came back to you.

You had been out on a walk, trying to soak in the first spring days sunshine and warmth, when all of a sudden five men were blocking your path.

You could proudly say that you were able to fight four of them off before the fifth one snuck up behind you and knocked you out with something hard and heavy.

“I will admit though,” the creepy man continued, smiling a smile that made you want to cry from the sheer horror you were feeling, “You put up a very good fight…” he paused and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t look away, “But I suppose being trained by Batman will do that for you.”

Whatever color had remained in your face had now been drained of it and your eyes went even wider.

He let out an evil chuckle, “Oh, or should I say Bruce Wayne?” He seemed to have been getting joy from the look on your face, “Oh yes, Miss. Wayne, I know all about your father. It’s not that hard to figure out really… but I won’t bore you with the details.”

The tape across your mouth was the only thing keeping your jaw from dropping.

It was true, you had been able to hold off those men because you were trained by Bruce, your father.

You had been a Batgirl, like all your sisters had been, after your mother dropped you off on Bruce’s front step, claiming that you were his daughter. Except you didn’t go on to become your own hero after Batgirl, you just went on.

You had moved on with your life when you realized that running around in a Halloween costume every night wasn’t the life for you. You could be so much more, do so much more.

Not to mention how bad the city of Gotham was. It was dirty, and always full of crime, and that was not the kind of place that you wanted to live your life.

You knew how much your family would protest if they had known that you planned to leave, your father, sisters, and brothers. But it wasn’t their decision, it was yours.

One night while you knew they would all be on patrol, you stayed home claiming not to feel well, then you deactivated all of the trackers that your father had on you and your things, and you left Gotham. Never looking back.

Of course you missed your family more than anything, but you couldn’t live the life that they lead any longer. For once in your life you did something for yourself without worrying about the effects that it had on the others.

When you left you changed your name to Y/n L/n to ensure that your family of detectives never found you.

You had left five years ago, leaving behind your two big brothers and two little brothers, and your sisters who all lived separately, to desperately want to know where you were and why you left them.

While you were away, you stayed away from any and all news that had to do with the city of Gotham, knowing that your family would always find a way to be on it. Whether it be for your siblings doing something stupid, your father donating to another charity, or just because they were the Waynes.

Either way, you knew that if you started watching it, you would get even more homesick and go back. Which was something you couldn’t do to yourself.

“And of course you’ll be wondering why you’re here now. But it’s a bit boring really, just a score to settle with your father” He continued after waving his hand dismissively, “See, I know that you tried to leave Gotham behind you all those years ago. And I also know that you have not seen your family in any of that time or had any form of contact with them… As far as they know, Miss. Y/n Wayne dropped off the face of the earth five years ago.”

Your heart dropped to your toes. No matter how he knew this, he was right. Your family didn’t know whether you were alive or dead.

When you left, some part of you must have subconsciously banished all thoughts like that from your head so you wouldn’t worry so much about it.

He strided over to you and quickly tore the piece of tape off of your mouth, ignoring the small yelp that you let out, “Anything you would like to say, Miss. Wayne?”

You paused, trying to find your voice, looking up at him before you finally asked quietly, “Where am I?”

Then, he grinned a grin to rival the Jokers, “Welcome back to Gotham, Miss. Wayne.”

-•-

“Okay, you remember your lines?” The man asked in a joking manner that was actually anything but that.

You stayed silent, only looking at him as he set up the camera in front of you, the piece of tape was back on your mouth, which is what made him think that his joke was the funniest thing ever.

This made his grin drop, “Smile.” He warned before turning the camera on with a click, the top corner lighting up red to prove it, you quickly dropped your head.

He walked in front of the camera and next to you and clapped his hands together in front of him before giving a goofy wave, “Hello there, Batman-or do you prefer to go by Bruce? I never know!”

You kept your eyes trained on the floor, remembering his plan that he told you. And to tryand make up for your scared and weak behavior before, you decided to do everything in your power to go against what he told you he wanted. And that started with not allowing yourself to look up.

-•-

Tim groaned, spinning in his chair slowly and lazily, his head lolled over the back as it gently rocked back in forth while he kept spinning.

Jason was cleaning his gun for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

Steph was hanging upside down on the couch, trying to hold her breath for longer than five minutes.

Barbra sat at the computer, playing a game of snake with her head resting in her hand.

Dick was playing with a soccer ball he found, kicking it off of the walls and trying to make it come back to him.

Cass sat in the center of the floor, silently meditating with her legs crossed and arms gently resting against them.

Damain was gently trying to teach Bat Cow how to speak, by using simple words like ‘imbecile’ and ‘absurd’.

Even Bruce was there, sitting in a chair in front of one of the computers, tossing his cowl in the air and catching it again.

To say that it had been a slow night would be an understatement.

All of them had been patrolling for about five hours with absolutely nothing happening, not even any jaywalking.

It was like all of the crime in the city of Gotham packed up and moved out over the course of a day.

Don’t get them wrong, it’s not like they actually wanted there to be crimes going on, but when it didn’t they were forced to sit in the Batcave and be bored out of their minds.

“Okay,” Bruce said, finally standing up, “I think we can call it a-“

He got cut off by a loud beeping coming from the tv, causing all of the vigilantes in the room to jump at least a foot in the air.

An image popped onto the screen showing an incoming video.

Barbra furrowed her eyebrows, knowing that the only people that could do that to the bat computer also have their phone numbers so they wouldn’t need to do that.

Her and Bruce exchanged a look before he nodded, letting her know to let the video go through.

A grinning face of an unfamiliar man popped onto the screen, making everyone in the room quickly stop whatever they were doing and run over and crowd around the screen.

“Is it-“ Bruce started.

“Yes,” Babs cut him off, furiously typing away while trying to figure out where this video was coming from and how it got on their screen, “It’s live.”

“Can he-“

“No,” she cut him off again, “He can’t see us.”

“Hello there, Batman-“ The man then paused and laughed maniacally to himself, “Or do you prefer to go by Bruce? I never know!” He threw his hands up innocently.

“Wh-how?” Jason stuttered out, only to be shushed by six other people.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Fine, a random stranger knows the old man's identity, excuse me for worrying.”

Everyone ignored him though and tried to lean impossibly closer to the screen.

“I suppose that you’ll be wondering why I’m talking to you, though.” He continued, “Well it goes like this,” his smile dropped, “I have a score to settle with you. My father is in Arkham because of you, and I want my revenge.”

Jason squinted, “He does look kind of like Bane, come to think of it.”

He was once again shushed though.

His smile once again returned, “So, I sat and started thinking to myself: hmmm, how do you get revenge on vengeance himself?” He put a hand to his chin and pretended to think, then held up a finger as if a lightbulb went off. “The answer was simple, of course. Take the person he loves most.”

Dick looked down at himself and patted his stomach, “Nope, I think I’m still here. This guy is wack, B.”

“Shh!” Jason shushed him childishly as their other siblings glared at Dick threateningly and Cassandra smacked his arm.

“And of course by now you’ll be wondering what I mean by that.” His voice now turned a pitch higher, “All of your children are with you, are they not? And your butler is upstairs cleaning the floor of mud!”

Everyone seemed to pale slightly, because it was true.

Just a couple of moments ago, Alfred had come into the batcave and scolded all of them for tracking mud through the house. He then proceeded to tell them that he would be cleaning it up for now, but next time it happened he would be making them clean it up.

The man, who the family was beginning to grow very annoyed with, fake gasped, “But how could you forget? After all this time, how could you forget who you miss more than anyone in the world, Brucie old boy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened a little bit as his children slowly started coming to the same realization as him, “No.” He whispered out in horror, his wide eyes never leaving the screen.

“In case you’re feeling a little slow today, Batsy, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he leaned closer to the camera and started whisper yelling, “Her name is Y/n Wayne.”

Right no cue he moved out of the way and showed your tied up form.

Barbra, Dick, and Tim each let out a gasp.

Jason, Bruce, Damain, and Cass stared at the screen with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Steph, who was still holding her breath, finally released it and fell into a coughing fit. Cass was the only one who seemed to notice, and reached over to pat the blonds back, not even taking her eyes away from the screen.

The man looked back at you and a hard look came over his face, “I told you to smile for the camera.”

He quickly reached back and yanked your head up by the hair, causing you to let out a yelp of pain, which was muffled slightly by the piece of tape that was still over your mouth.

Everybody who was watching clenched their hands as their faces hardened as they watched him do that.

It was you.

After all these years it was you.

And they had no idea where you were.

Right away, Tim pushed everyone out of the way and immediately jumped into the other chair at the desk and began furiously typing away at a different computer, as Babs did the same at her own computer.

“Hurry up.” Jason said gruffly, tightly gripping his gun, and this time nobody shushed him.

The man still held a hard glare on his face as he looked down at you and sneered.

Your wide eyes finally found the camera, where you now knew, or were at least told, that your family was watching.

“Found her!” Tim and Barbra pretty much screamed at the exact same time, Tim quickly standing up and Barbra continued to type away.

Everyone looked to Bruce, who was yet to take his eyes away from you, waiting for instructions.

Jason looked like he was about to march out of the cave by himself to go find you before his adopted father finally spoke, this time as Batman, not Bruce, “Spoiler, Orphan, Red Robin, the three of you will hold off any guards that will most likely be there,” He knew that you wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, and that the one guy in front of him wasn’t enough to do that.

He continued once the three nodded, “As for Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing, you will all come with me to where that psychopath is holding…” His authoritative voice faltered, “Where he’s holding Y/n.”

Once everyone nodded, he continue, “Oracle, you’ll hack into the cameras and let us know what’s going on.”

She nodded as well and everyone began getting ready.

Each of them secretly took a deep breath to try and prepare themselves for what was to come.

Soon enough, but what seemed like hours to them, Bruce was in the batmobile with Damain, Tim, and Dick. Jason was on his motorcycle while Steph and Cass shared one of their own.

“Not much is happening.” The redhead informed them from her wheelchair in the cave, “He’s rambling about how you put his father in the asylum, B… n/n seems fine for now.”

That seemed to make everyone feel the tiniest bit better.

“…father?” Damain hesitantly asked from the back, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Bruce hummed in acknowledgment, not taking his eyes away from the street he zoomed down, “Will L/n be joining us back at the manor?”

Bruce didn’t respond, instead pressed the gas pedal even harder, the silence deafening.

All they could do for now was hope and pray that you held out for just a little bit longer.

-•-

You had long since tuned out your kidnapper who was rambling about one thing or another.

Your mind was elsewhere, wondering about if your family was actually watching this right now.

You also knew that if they were, then they would’ve found where you were a while ago, they did have Babs and Tim after all.

But then you were struck with a horrible thought. One that made your heart squeeze in your chest until it felt like it was killing you.

What if they weren’t… there anymore?

What if after all this time away, something horrible happened to any one of them?

Something that they couldn’t walk away from?

And then it was like another sharp knife was lodged into your chest, what if they didn’t want to come?

You were, after all, the one who left. Without telling anybody or giving them any reason.

You hadn’t even tried to reach out to them for all of those years.

Those thoughts made you so sick to your stomach that you were half debating vomiting on your psychotic kidnapper if you could somehow get the tape off of your mouth

Just as you were about to explore that thought more, the sound of screaming followed closely by an explosion was heard throughout the room, causing you and the still unnamed man to snap your heads in the direction of where you thought the door was.

The man smirked, “Here they come.” He said in a singsong voice.

He began to make his way back into the shadows, and right before he did so you noticed him grab something out of his pocket.

A gun.

You paled even more as he disappeared from sight.

But of course it wasn’t you that you were worried about, it was whoever was causing all of the chaos outside.

The sliver of hope that you felt that your family would come disappeared. And now it was replaced with the selfish hope for it to be anyone but your family out there. Anyone but them.

You didn’t know if that was just because of the gun, or because you also didn’t want them to confront you about leaving.

The sound of a door being kicked open banged through the room, cutting through the silence like a knife.

You looked up and glared against the bright light that still beat down on you relentlessly.

The sound of multiple footsteps running your way were heard.

-•-

Steph, Tim, and Cass were doing their job of holding off all of the guards so that Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Damain could all slip into the room that Barbra told them you were in.

They didn’t know how the three distractions were able to cause an explosion, but they also learned a long time ago not to question what happened when those three were around.

Once they got to the door that Oracle led them to, Jason kicked the it in with more force than necessary, especially considering it was unlocked, which no one even made fun of him for this time. Their minds were all elsewhere.

They all quickly ran into the room, and it didn’t take long before their eyes landed on you for the first time in five years, that wasn’t through a camera.

You had clearly heard them, but all the bright lights surrounding you made it impossible to see into the darkness around you.

As they ran towards you they noticed things that they had been too shocked to see while watching the video.

Your hair was a tangled mess, revealing that it hadn’t been brushed in a while, so who knows how long you had been here before the video was taken.

You also had a dark bruise around one of your eyes, and the way you were leaning over, they figured you were injured on your ribs too.

Both of those things made their jaws clench even tighter.

Your eyes widened from their glaring position as soon as they came bounding into the light.

-•-

They had changed so much.

So much, yet you knew who was who right away.

Call it sisterly/ daughterly instinct.

Your father had his suit upgraded, probably by either Alfred or Babs.

Dick had also had his suit upgraded, and it was no longer that old time disco one that you would always tease and make fun of him for.

Damain had grown taller, and had more muscle than last time, which only proved how much he aged since the last time you had seen him.

And though Jason had a new suit, and probably hero name, altogether, you automatically knew that it was your big brother, even though he as well had grown and gained more muscle.

They slowed to a stop in front of you, and time seemed to freeze for a moment as you all looked at one another, taking each other in.

Dick was the first one to snap out of his daze and quickly rushed over to you, pulling you into a hug that you couldn’t recouparte due to your hands still being tied behind you.

“I missed you so much.” He whispered in your ear so only you could hear.

As much as you wanted to say something, tell him that you missed him more than he would ever know, you again couldn’t.

He saw this and quickly reached up and ripped off the duct tape, wincing and apologizing as you flinched.

You looked behind your eldest brother to see Bruce open his mouth and was about to say something, but you quickly cut him off, “He’s still in this room.”

Although it felt like you had just used your voice moments ago to ask where you were, your voice was still scratchy and hoarse as if it hadn’t been used in days.

The men quickly put their guard back up and drew their weapons. Damain with a katana, Dick with two batons, Bruce with a batarang (which you had amazingly named all those years ago), and Jason with a gun.

You had no idea how the last one got past Bruce, but at the moment you weren’t really complaining.

The sound of a gun cocking, that wasn’t Jasons, filled the vast room, bouncing off the walls, making it impossible to tell which direction it was coming from.

Damain quickly rushed to join Dick with standing next to you, sword raised and ready to fight at any given second.

The sound of the man's laughter filled the room, “You think you can protect her? Even if you could, you think she wants your protection?” He was trying to mess with their heads, “SHE was the one who left, after all. Without giving you a reason, much less a goodbye.”

Even with the cowl on, it was clear that Bruce’s eyes were ablaze in rage.

He then stepped out of the shadows, gun raised and pointed straight at Bruce. “While you spent years looking for her, she spent years trying to not be found, running away. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why that was?”

-•-

Of course he had asked himself it it.

He’s thought about it every day for five years.

Wondering what he did wrong, what led you to run away without any explanation.

He beat himself up over it for years, completely heartbroken by your leaving, as he knew his other children were as well.

Right now though, as he stared down the barrel of the gun, all he could think about was that he just got you back. And he wasn’t going to let you go. He would protect you and the rest of his kids until his dying day, even if that day was today.

Bruce hadn’t even meant for his silence to be the answer to the man's question, but he was grinning, as if he won the lottery, “So it’s true then? I could only assume that she hadn’t told you she was leaving, but you just confirmed it for me.”

Bruce glanced back at you, but your eyes were trained on the man holding the gun, as if willing him and the gun to burst into flames with just the glare on your face.

He looked at his sons, hard looks on their faces, ready for anything that might come their way, then back to his daughter, and made a decision.

He stepped closer to the gun.

-•-

Your eyes widened as you watched your dad step closer to the psychopath holding the gun right at him.

“You have absolutely no right to talk to me about MY children.” He said, his voice never once wavering.

The man just laughed for what felt like the millionth time, “And you had no right to lock my father away. It is because of YOUR actions Bruce that led me to do this. And in front of your children nonetheless! So don’t forget, children, this is your fathers-“

He cut himself off as his eyes rolled back and he slowly fell forwards before landing in a heap on the ground.

Steph, Cass, and Tim all stood behind the man, the blonde one holding a pipe.

She rolled her eyes, discarding it to the side after hitting him on the back of the head with it, “He talks too much.”

The trio's eyes then landed on you and you all once again fell into a silence, staring at each other.

You cleared your throat, “Look, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but-“

This time, you were the one being cut off, but not because of a pipe.

Bruce had barreled towards you and brought you into his arms in a bone crushing grip, hugging the life out of you.

You stumbled a bit, eyes wide, before hesitantly wrapping your arms around your father once you were sure that it was actually happening.

“Dad-“ You let out a sob, eyes filling with tears.

“Shh.” He shushed you, “It’s okay.”

Soon enough, Cass joined the hug, quickly followed by Dick, and then everyone else.

You stood there, embracing your family for the first time in five years, all of you with tears running down your faces for different reasons.

“Come on. I called Gordon and he’s outside ready to take this man to Arkham” Bruce said softly, pulling away after what seemed like hours of hugging, “Let’s get you back home and then we can talk.”

You smiled with still tears eyes, “Home. I like the sound of that.”

-•-

As soon as you stepped out of the batmobile and into the batcave, Barbra and Alfred were waiting for you.

The woman quickly rolled over to you and pulled you into a hug before letting Alfred bring you into a gentle one.

You pulled away, looking over at every single member of your family, who all looked back at you with smiles.

“Welcome home, Miss. Wayne.” Alfred said with a small smile.

And this time those words didn’t send shivers down your spine like they had when the man said them to you just earlier that day.

“So,” Dick piped up after a moment of comfortable silence, “What’s this I hear about Y/n being your favorite, Bruce?”

A/N: Should I write a part two following the aftermath of this one?

Next part here —> Now That You’re Home

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luveline · 3 years

Text

a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

------------------------

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

------------------------

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

------------------------

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

------------------------

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

------------------------

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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chokiipng · 3 years

Text

Hay fever : Genshin various

a/n : suffering from seasonal allergies isn't fun . so instead of trying to do school work, i'm gonna write hcs to make myself feel better

character(s) : Xiao, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe contents : fluff with a bit of crack (my specialty) + : reader has really bad seasonal allergies

Xiao :

he doesn't really understand tbh

he plays it off as a common cold at first and entrusts you with Verr, much to her annoyance. he didn't realize the true severity of the situation until a week had passed.

he's heard of seasonal allergies before, so it's not like he was entirely clueless, he just didn't know how to go about treating it.

because of this, he turned into a big ball of concern for the entirety of spring

he asked everyone he could for help, even that ginger haired harbinger (to which he had no clue since he basically lives on an iceberg)

this also happened to peek Zhongli's interest, who then took him to Bubu pharmacy to learn more. it took Xiao about 5 different interrogations to actually visit Bubu, he cursed himself internally for not checking there in the first place

of course, Baizhu laughed it off and informed the both of them on how allergies work, how they're triggered, and how to prevent/soothe them

if you sneezed/sniffled, he was immediately by your side with a tissue and some water. itchy eyes, he had a small bottle of eyedrops for you courtesy of Dr. Baizhu and Qiqi

it was amusing to say the least, watching a feared Yaksha running around frantically in order to soothe your allergies

of course, he soon picked up that it was because you went outside every goddamn day to complete commissions and to pick flowers for who knows who (Qiqi, you often found yourself picking herbs with her because who could say no to that face?)

he legit locked you in your room at Wangshuu Inn and did your commissions for you. he didn't want you in any pain, so he stayed with you when he finished all of his tasks

he didn't isolate you though, but if he takes you out he makes sure you take your allergy medicine (given by Qiqi, ty bby) and that you have a mask on

Diluc :

he never really experienced hay fever, but he knows the gist of it

he's heard stories of it from customers of the Angel's Share and was immensely grateful to the Archons for blessing him with immunity to seasonal allergies

but he wasn't prepared to catch you practically sneezing your guts out one morning

Diluc drops everything, much to Adelinde's horror, and orders for a box of tissues and water immediately. he whips out the blankets from under the couch that he knew you hid and props you on some pillows he fluffed in a panicked rush

the maids watch with a nervous chuckle as he runs around the mansion, completely forgetting about his shift at the Angel's Share and his nightly heroic duties

as soon as he calms down from the initial shock of how hard allergies hit you, he asks you how your feeling and if he can do anything

the next day he asks Donna (who stutters at his mere presence), who mind you is an employee at the Floral Whisper, since Flora isn't there herself about hay fever. he figured that people who worked at a flower shop would know about allergies caused by the pollen produced by flowers

he brings back medicine that you've been instructed to take daily as to lessen the affects of your allergies

despite his day duties, he offers to take up your daily commissions during the days you are physically unable to do them or just does them of his own volition

he trusts that the maids will take care of you in his stead

in the mean time, you're allowed to roam the city as you wish, but that's about it. he threatened Lawrence and Swan that they would feel the wrath of retribution if you stepped foot outside the city

Mondstadt was a land of eternal springtime, there was no way in hell he was letting you out of the city without his supervision

while all of this may be a bit much, he makes sure to let you know that this is just him caring for you. he doesn't want to seem overbearing and trusts that you know what's happening to your body and how to treat it

Kaeya :

he laughs at your demise

what did you expect ?

but he really is worrying on the inside

he makes sure to check in with Barbara just to make sure that you're not suffering from a lethal disease

once he knows that they're just seasonal allergies, (almost) all his worries subside and he sighs of relief

he notifies Jean beforehand (but sometimes forgets), he works considerably less during the time of your allergies since he doesn't really trust anyone else to take care of you

he also doesn't drink as much, surprising, he knows

he refrains from bringing you flowers as he usually does and instead spoils you with unnecessary affection

Kaeya doesn't worry as much since he puts faith in you that you know what's going on in your body. since they're seasonal allergies, he realizes that you must've gone through this before and know how to treat it

since you can't really cure it, you just act more cautious in the outdoors

he often accompanies you on your daily commissions and such, just to be sure that your okay. he takes over the moment you pause to sneeze or itch your nose even once

aside from this, he's the other reason why your allergies are unbearable

once they're all done and over, he teases you relentlessly about how reliant you were on him when in reality it was him doing your tasks of his own volition rather than you asking him. you told him several times that you could handle it, but he persisted nonetheless

he's more reasonable during your hay fever, and despite his unnecessary comments, you find it endearing

Albedo :

he is among the few men who are actually calm during the situation, but since when is he not?

he probably already has a remedy for you that greatly lessens the affect of your allergies

but even without it, he trusts that you know how to handle it

the only factor in here that would cause chaos-

is Klee

once Klee hears you sneeze all hell breaks loose in Albedo's workspace

she runs around everywhere looking for tissues and then ends up bringing Mondstadt's entire supply, which you and Albedo laugh nervously at

once Klee calms down, you explain the bare minimum of hay fever, which she manages to understand

while he has faith that you can treat it yourself, Albedo still recommends that you stay inside more rather than going out exploring and looking for chests, to which you sheepishly comply

Jean cannot thank you enough when it comes to Klee's behavior during this season, as Klee tends to spend more time at home with you and Albedo once you finish your commissions so that "you don't feel lonely!"

she even drew you a picture to show how much she cared!

if you can't sleep at night because of your allergies, Albedo (who is probably still up working) will gladly allow you to indulge in his studies or to just simply read with you until you fall asleep

he too is also happy that you managed to tame Klee

Childe :

this man has no idea what the fuck hay fever is

need I remind you that he grew up in the land of perpetual winter, hay fever doesn't even exist to him. unlike everyone else, he hasn't even heard of the concept

so when you hold a finger up during your weekly sparring, he pauses with a curious tilt of his head

he screams in horror as you sneeze out all of your bodily fluids not once, not twice, but three times

Childe calls off the spar and cradles you in your arms as if you're about to die

it's until he rushes you to Baizhu in a panicked frenzy that he realizes that its...a fever?

now Baizhu is a patient man, he had to raise a zombie child who basically loses her memory each time she wakes up and wields a sword/cryo abilities

but he was getting tired of Childe's endless questions quick.

Childe shrieks as the normally passive pharmacist slams his hands down on the counter with a sickeningly sweet smile

he ceases in his questions, apologizes for bothering him, and races back to the Northland Bank in a cold sweat

it takes you explaining it in a calm voice for him to finally understand it

and he takes this very seriously

while he knows that it's seasonal and that you've gone through it before, he can't help but worry for you

he coddles you, and he doesn't relent even if you tell him

he slaps a mask on you, takes away your fighting privileges, and even order his subordinates to keep an eye on you at all times

that is if he's not already

he clings

he's attached to you

he just wants you to feel better, and you appreciate it, but it can get a little too much sometimes

and while you do tell him this, the same situation happens every year when spring comes around and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Baizhu can't catch a break from the rowdy harbinger

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asmo-ds · 4 years

Note

I've seen alot of headcanons about Simeon turning into a demon, but how would everyone react if Luke managed to turn himself into a demon 🤔 Like maybe he didn't amount up to Celestial Standards (I headcanon the Celestial realm is kinda weird due to the events of the anelic event) and then he made some type of minor violation and they kicked him out of heaven to avoid the possibility of him growing up to be undesirable in the Celestial Realm

When a Child Falls

Luke-centric ANGST & FLUFF

Warnings: Pain, falling from heaven, Luke hurting :(

Summary: After failing to live up to the standards of his superiors Luke is kicked out of the Celestial Realm and becomes a demon. Luckily for him the exchange program had given him so many new and old friends who wanted nothing but to help the poor child despite any bitter past they may have had with him

a/n: i was gonna do headcanons but then i was like what if i make a whole one shot about him falling and everyone helping him adjust to his new life and uh yea <3

Also this didn’t come out as angsty as I wanted it to but demon brothers comforting a fallen Luke >>>>>>>

He tugged on his own arm, begging for the elder angel to release him and give him a second chance, his once hopeful blue eyes filled with tears and terror.

“Stop, I swear I just need more time, PLEASE!” Luke cried, punching the elder’s arm and attempting to pry his wrinkly hands from Luke’s small forearm. The elder yanked Luke’s arm harder, resulting in a distressed cry from the short blond.

Luke tried to steady his breathing as they approached the boundaries of the Celestial realm, where he was to be pushed off for his failure to earn his wings in a timely manner. The Celestial realm saw him as useless and decided they would be better off discarding a weak angel like himself.

“LET HIM GO, PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS!” Luke could hear Simeon’s breaking voice screaming at the elders who held him back from Luke to prevent any interference, “JUST LET ME SAY GOODBYE PLEASE,” he begged to which the elder finally agreed and the two embraced tightly. “Luke you listen to me, you get to the Devildom you go STRAIGHT to Lucifer, he helped his brothers and himself through his fall he can help you, please, trust him with at least getting you through the transition then you can hate them again or whatever you want, pl-”

“I get it, Simeon, I promise I won’t let you down,” Luke interrupted, tears falling from his eyes onto Simeon’s broad shoulders.

“Times up. Luke come to the edge, stand here,” an elder guides him into position.

Luke’s hearing starts ringing as his adrenaline kicks in, the fear of death and disappearing from existing overwhelming him. His breathing grew fast, and before he knew it, he felt a push and wind pounding against his skin as he fell, and fell, and fell, until he saw the Devildom soil and he tensed, preparing for the worst.

Instead of hitting the ground he hears a fwoosh and finds himself caught in strong arms.

“Luke! What happened, where is Simeon? A young angel like you shouldn’t be down here all al-” Lucifer starts questioning the angel, concerned to see the small boy falling from so high. He was interrupted by a cry of agony, Luke pushed away from Lucifer, doubling over and screaming as the pain began to set in.

Lucifer recognized the transition immediately and how badly it hurt his brothers, so he gently approached the young boy, who glared at him with teary pained eyes, and he murmured a spell, before darkness washed over Luke.

His innocent blue eyes fluttered open, not recognizing his surroundings, he sat up quickly, wincing and hissing as his back was suddenly filled with unbearable pain.

Oh that’s right, I fell. They pushed me and now…His eyes snap open, remembering the feeling of falling, but nothing that happened afterward.

“I have… to find… Lucifer..” Luke spoke to himself, taking short breaks between every few words to take a painful breath, feeling his ribcage expand and contract as his wheezing continued.

“I’ve already found you, Luke, you’re in one of the bedrooms of the Demon Lord’s Castle. Please lay back and take off your shirt, your back is bound to be in a lot of pain, this serum will help.” The blond flinches as Lucifer rises from a chair next to the bed where he laid.

Luke raises his arms and let Lucifer take off the shirt before laying on his stomach.

He hears Lucifer’s breath catch in his throat as he stares in horror at Luke’s back, where wings were starting to form, dark and mangled with feathers tangled and in need of a cleaning.

So like that, Lucifer kept Luke safe and took care of him whilst the other brothers prepared a room at the House of Lamentation for him to stay.

“Luke, I’ve brought you some tea and cake,” Barbatos walks into the bedroom carrying some snacks and drinks for the injured boy.

“Thank you Barbatos, I missed your cooking,” Luke smiles slightly before taking a big bite of cake and groaning. “Like, I really missed it-”

“Yes, Barbatos makes splendid food, which is why I keep him around!” Diavolo winks, nudging Barbatos with his elbow a bit.

“Actually sir, you only keep me around because no other demon has been able to keep up with your antics-”

“ANYWAY, Luke your wings look like they’re growing in nicely, and so do your horns,” Diavolo walks over to examine Luke’s new form. “You’ll probably be in a lot of pain for at least a few more days, but if you want to get situated into your new home we can let you go and just check in on you everyday.”

“Uh… I don’t want to intrude at the House of Lamentation, if it’s going to be any sort of burden to them-”

“Nonsense, my brothers and I are glad to take care of you and take you in, you experienced the same fate as us, albeit for different reasons, but still, we know your pain and we want to guide you so please, Luke, let us help you,” Lucifer places a reassuring hand on Luke’s shoulder as he says this.

“...Okay, BUT no calling me a chihuahua- GOT IT?!” Luke pokes Lucifer’s chest aggressively and earns a hearty chuckle from him.

“I agree not to call you a dog anymore,” Lucifer laughs out, “though I cannot speak for my brothers.”

“I can’t believe the chihuahua of all people got kicked out…” Mammon says, still in shock that the angel who had been so determined to make people smile just a year before during the exchange program had somehow managed to get himself thrown out of heaven.

“I remember when I almost didn’t earn my wings in time,” Asmodeus shudders at the memories of being threatened with exile and constantly pushing himself way too hard, “I got so many wrinkles from the stress.”

“Luke makes good food, I’m glad he’s staying with us.” Beel’s mouth was watering as he and Mammon moved a dresser, finally finishing getting Luke’s new room in order.

“Oi, try to be sympathetic when he gets here Beel. He may be a little annoying kid but he’s going through what we went through,” Mammon scolded his younger brother, an uncomfortable silence taking over the room as each and every one of them remembers the pain they were in as their bodies morphed into those of demons.

“God is such an asshole…” Belphegor mutters, getting extremely angry the more he thinks about it.

Luke had done nothing wrong, Lilith had done nothing wrong, so why? Why would he keep getting rid of the most determined of his angels over such insignificant things?

Suddenly all their phones go off with a text from Lucifer saying he and the boy would be arriving soon. They all gathered in the entrance hall, waiting for Luke to arrive. The front door creaked open, all of the brothers standing up straighter and nervous as Lucifer stepped through the entrance with Luke just behind him.

The brothers all gasped quietly in shock at the state of Luke. He was pale and thin and the look of complete and utter despair in his formerly innocent eyes filling the room with a depressing atmosphere.

“H-hey there Fido- I mean- Luke, how’re you feeling?” Mammon tries to start up a welcoming conversation, getting a nasty look from Lucifer, who Luke was clinging to for dear life.

“Luke! As soon as you’re feeling able to, what do you say we bake something together?” Beel smiles sweetly, most of them getting nothing but nervous looks from Luke in response to their questions.

“I’m just going to help him get settled in. Satan you’re in charge of everything else around the house while I take care of Luke and my own paperwork.” Lucifer guides Luke up the stairs.

Satan rolls his eyes but mutters a small “fine,” before the two head upstairs to the attic, where they’d set up the room to look just like the dorm he stayed in at Purgatory Hall.

“Oh wow, it feels like I’m back in the exchange program,” Luke chuckles a little, clearly faking any sort of joy.

“Luke,” Lucifer kneels down, “you are one of my brothers now, you have nothing to fear, and Simeon will be able to visit at some point-” His attempt to ease Luke’s worries is interrupted by a loud sob.

“Don’t you get it?! Michael and Simeon will never look at me the same, ever again!” Luke wails, using his sleeves to wipe the tears that streamed down his face. “All I ever wanted was to impress them! To impress God and make humans happy and protect them! But now my natural instinct to hurt humans ruins any chance of me becoming the person I’d always thought I’d be!” Luke falls to his knees, sobbing and wheezing, his vision becoming blurry as a panic attack hits him like a truck. He can barely hear anything except for Lucifer calling out a name, and all he could make out was that it wasn’t his own name. A dark figure walks into the room and Luke hears muffled voices for a minute before he is suddenly extremely calm, his eyelids growing a bit heavy and he feels exhausted.

He then realizes someone was holding him and murmuring some sort of spell, causing him to panic once more, but this time he was perfectly aware and just jumped up ready to fight.

“Hey you dirty demon! Don’t use your dark magic on me or else I’ll-”

“Pfft hahaha,” Belphegor laughs hard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “you still look like a chihuahua when you get annoyed!” Belphie teases and Luke blushes, before running at Belphie and tackling him, leading to a wrestling match on the floor as Lucifer stands by and watches the two of them closely, to ensure nobody got hurt under his watch.

Dinner was the worst, to be honest. Luke had asked Lucifer if he could cook to say thanks for taking him in, but now he sat awkwardly and all of the brothers remained quiet, watching his every move and watching him like he was an injured little puppy.

“I-is the food not good?” Luke questions looking around nervously.

“AH- no its great Fido- LUKE, ah jeez I’m getting a headache this is so hard to adjust to,” Mammon slams his head on the table, earning a glare from Asmo and Satan who he sat between.

“Anyways, I know you’ve been to the Devildom before and don’t really need a tour BUT you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg, there are so many more places to go!” Asmo smiles widely at Luke, “So let’s go together soon, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Ooooh Luke, you have to tell me what Celestial Realm video games are like, GAH I wish we had waited to start a war until after the invention of video games. Anyway I got a new one so I can show you a Devildom game and-”

“Shut yer trap Levi,” Mammon leans over the table to attempt to cover Levi’s mouth.

“But let the GREAT Mammon show ya all the best spots in town~”

“NO-no do not take the child Gambling, Mammon,” Asmo smacks him.

“Asmo for all we know you’re gonna scar him and take him to a strip club,” Belphegor smirks, knowing he just started a war.

“I WOULD NEVER, COME HERE YOU BRAT,” both of them in demon forms chasing each other around the house and screaming.

Suddenly everyone hears a child’s laughter and looks at the blond who had barely even smiled since arriving.

“We can try to do everything you guys want to show me,” Luke smiles. Everyone lets out a sigh of relief seeing that Luke was feeling more comfortable around them. “Um, question though… how do I go in and out of my… demon form?”

“HAH that’s easy, just relax and let the GREAT Mammon teach ya!”

“Mammon, not yet. Luke, I will teach you, but we need to wait a bit longer or else the pain of transforming will be unbearable for you,” Lucifer looked down at the disappointed boy.

“Oh, ok.”

“Don’t look so gloomy Fid-LUKE JEEZ LOUISE- there's a lot the GREAT Mammon can teach ya in the mean time!” Mammon stands up with a cocky smile, hands on his hips. “Think of me as ya new master and you are my apprentice!”

“NO do not think of him like that he will make you do his dirty work,” Satan says, hitting Mammon in the stomach.

“Thank you,” Luke looks at Lucifer, “thank you for taking me in, I-I know we don’t have the best past and I was super rude towards demons during the exchange program but-but I’m trying to change for you guys! Thank you!” Luke bows his head, tears falling down his cheeks. The knowledge that he can never go back to the way he was bringing on more tears, but they didn’t mind. They’d been through the same process. So silently they all comforted him and welcomed him into their home with open arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luke #obey me angst #obey me angst hc #obey me angels #om luke #om! swd #om! luke #obey me angst oneshot #obey me fluff #obey me fluff hc #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me oneshot #obey me imagines #sad obey me imagines #obey me imagine

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candlelight27 · 3 years

Text

Reiner - NSFW Alphabet

Reiner x F!reader

A/N: I really wanted to write something for Reiner and this happened! I hope you enjoy it. I might have added way too much drama for a simple nsfw alphabet but I have so many strong feelings for Reiner that I CAN'T. I'm just a simp... Okay, so keep in mind I made this thinking of post-timeskip Reiner.

Warnings: NSFW, obviously. Smut, fluff, angst. Some kinks discussed.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

First things first, he’ll help you get cleaned up. He will either get a clean rug or you’ll share a shower. He won’t leave you alone, asking if you’re okay, if you need help, leaving several kisses on your shoulders and lips.

He’s rather emotional afterwards too. When you are lying on your bed in the dead of the night, he doesn’t understand how you are able to love him after all he’s done. He embraces your body and buries his face right in the crook of your neck. Reiner inhales your scent as you trace random patterns in the broad expanse of his back. He trembles in the slightest of manners, and you hear a faint sob, but you don’t say anything. You let him stay like that for as long as he likes. Sometimes it takes five minutes for him to calm down, while other times, it takes hours. But you don’t mind, and let his warmth surround you. He’s ever grateful of your love and carefulness. It’s not easy to forget all he’s done, and it’s even more difficult to accept he must live with the weight of his sins, so these moments of some kind of normality crush him. But you’re there, ready to help him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He might be biased because of his training as the Armoured Titan, but he loves his arms and back. Reiner is strong and he uses it to his advantage. It makes him feel powerful and in control, more so when he has an opportunity in bed to show off his strength. He’s always elated when you absentmindedly caress his shoulders, arms and back.

Risking being vulgar, Reiner adores your ass. He takes a handful whenever he can – yes, even in public. If you wear something that accentuates your rear, the blond completely loses it, and it takes all his willpower not to kiss you and take you right there and then. During sex, it turns him on to see it, so he’s all into fucking in front of a mirror, or any position that lets him stare at your bum.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Reiner’s favourite place to cum is inside of you. He’s always a little scared, even with all the preventive measures, because the last thing he wants is getting you pregnant. Still, as a forbidden fruit, Reiner will enjoy every moment he’s releasing his seed inside of you, filling you to the brim. Unless you’ve gone a few rounds, Reiner’s cum is usually thick and abundant, always leaving a mess behind.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Reiner legit steals your underwear. He will regret it afterwards. But he does it anyways and more than once, he’s masturbated to your smell. To be fair, he would also steal other items that smell like you for those times you’re not around. Your scent helps him fall asleep and comforts him a lot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He wasn’t that experience, although he had done the deed before. You live in a world where you could die in any moment, so he hasn’t held his urges that much. However, until he met you, he hadn’t let any of his previous partners see his most vulnerable side. Reiner always had that façade of confidence and assurance, that he always knew what he was doing, when in reality he was just faking it and hoping no one would notice. With you, that came to an end and he finally admitted he wasn’t as sure as he was supposed to be. Of course, it led you to a journey of exploration and you’d confidently say he’s now an expert. Reiner knows your body like the back of his hands, and he know exactly what to do to make you moan the way he likes. And of course, he’s an expert in making you cum whenever he wants, and for him, that’s enough experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favourite position is the one where you ride him with your ass facing him. He loves the view of your rear, that you can use him as you like for your own pleasure and that he can touch wherever he wants. He just sees advantages this way. Reiner would start eating you out while you were on all fours, getting you wet and ready for his cock. He’ll take his time as he savours your essence. Then, with his strong arms, he’d help you slide into his dick and grope your waist and your butt.

Since you often complain of him getting the best views, he’s committed to try as many positions as humanly possible. So, every other day, it’s an adventure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on Reiner’s humour. Sometimes, when sadness hits him, he just wants the solace of your body. During those times, he barely talks, and you answer to his silent pleas with actions rather than words. On the other hand, when he’s in a good mood, he loves teasing you. He’ll banter until you get slightly offended, all heated and cute, and then kiss you everywhere.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Reiner doesn’t have that much time to shave, so he just does labours of maintenance from time to time. And yes, the carpet matches the drapes. He’s got a dirty blond mop of hair down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The blond gets too into it. He looks at you in the eye and smiles adoringly. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when he’s embracing you, your skin on his. He repeats all the time how much he loves you, how amazing you are. Reiner’s the whole romantic package. It may backfire, though, because if it becomes too emotional, he might cry. He doesn’t believe he deserve any happiness, much less with you involved, so an uncontrollable, deep horror takes his heart until he can’t take it anymore. Thankfully, your reassuring words help him forget all those intrusive thoughts. You’re quite used to Reiner’s ups and downs, so it won’t ruin the mood that much, and you will continue your activities at some point during the night – or right away if Reiner insists.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he steals your underwear, it’s inside his coat’s pocket. Reiner takes them with one big hand, while the other goes to his girthy cock. He’s working on paperwork, most likely, and alone in his room or an office. He starts slowly pumping his dick up and down, turned on by your smell. Then, he thinks of the last time you were with him and his pace increases until he can’t take it anymore.

His favourite place to masturbate is the shower, though. His muscles relax under the hot water and he can let go all the tension that’s been accumulating there all day. Reiner can spend hours there. And he’s so kicked back, that his hands slowly roam his body and find his dick. He will lean against the wall, supporting himself with this free arm. His quiet moans get drowned by the noise of the shower, and he can take as long as he wants. So he strokes himself slowly, lazily into completion. One of the best parts is that he doesn’t have to clean all the mess he leaves, since he’s already under the running water. One of the worst parts is that he’s alone and, even though he enjoys it, but it’s not the same as being with a partner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Is dry humping a kink? Because he adores it. Reiner loved watching your body rub against his with clothes on. This way, he can see how your face becomes more and more desperate for him to take you, and he loved the feel of being needed. So, yeah, he’s all into you both wherever you are – the chair, the sofa, the bed – making out, his tongue exploring your mouth, while you are riding his thigh, or your crotches rub together.

Reiner is into spanking, too. Not as a punishment. He’s just so turned on that he forgets all his manners and morals and spanks you sporadically. However, when the skin he’s hit turns red, he regrets it deeply. He feels bad, because it reminds him of all the harm he’s done, and you are always so loving… You like it anyways, so when you see the shadow of doubt grace his face, you reassure him that you enjoy it just as much as him. He still feels like a brute, but a happy one.

Finally, edging. Reiner has never had the reins of his own fate. Never. He became a warrior to please his mom and basically, his life has been determined by the decisions of other people. Most of the time, he feels helpless. Therefore, his love for edging roots in the control it grants him. He can decide when you are going to cum, when he’s going to give you your reward, and he loves that. It’s weird, because he’s not usually attracted by the idea of dominance over you, but this does it for him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Truth be told, he’d make love to you anywhere. He likes the risk of both of you being caught, so I’d say an unfrequented yet public place. And he’ll never lock the doors, because there’s something appealing at someone seeing with their own two eyes that you love him, that he’s a great lover and that you chose him. He might be into exhibitionism a bit, but at the same time, he’s too shy to be open about it. In the end, he’ll try; Reiner kisses you deeply in the secluded but risky space, like the cleaning supplies closet, but just when things get heavy and sexy and you slide your hands to grab his dick, the blond proposes moving to somewhere more private. You’ll tease him a lot, and you’ll convince him to have sex in a place where you’ll get caught. On those rare occasions, you notice Reiner is hornier than usual. Actually, whenever you are in bed, just the fleeting mention of those episodes makes him lose his mind.

Other locations he enjoys, or rather pieces of furniture, are armchairs and sofas. The close contact it gives you, because you can’t lie down, makes him be able to reach any part of your body and cage you, so he’s all into it. Besides, it’s quite refreshing from always doing it on the bed. And it’s a plus if it’s not his or yours, for tainting an space that’s not yours adds to the spice and the fantasy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your whole self gets him going. You ass, mainly, but also your cute and gorgeous face, your voice, your body… When you dress up for him, it’s a treat. There’s no better gift. He can’t believe how lucky he is that someone like you loved him. Apart from those things, what gets him going is dirty talking. Mention his kinks and he’ll be up and ready to fulfil his duty. He’s filled with energy, love and anxiousness, so Reiner is nearly always up for sex.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Reiner is a bit possessive, so I think a threesome would be kind of a turn off, even though he might enjoy it if he tries it with someone he trusts. He’ll be reluctant to try toys, simply because the idea makes him all shy and uneasy.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Our favourite blond gives oral like a starved man. Your taste enticed him, and he can never get enough of you. He laps and laps all over your clit time after time, then lets his tongue roam inside your hole. At some point, he uses his fingers as well, because he doesn’t have the heart to tease you and wants to make you come. He’s going to give you more orgasms afterwards, so he won’t skimp on the pleasure he gives you.

There are few times in which you give him a blowjob and he’s not eating you out. During those rare occasions, he treats you as if you were made out of glass. His fingers caress your face and your hair delicately, and he tries staying as still as he can. Even when you scratch his thighs lightly, or play with his balls, he’ll behave, as disciplined as the soldier he is.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Reiner always starts slow and sensual, but it doesn’t last long. Not in the least. He gets impatient and once his mind is set and he sees you like it, his rhythm becomes relentless. It’s quite the experience, to be ravished in that way, but he can’t help it. Yet, in the rounds following the first one of the day, he’ll relax and control himself better. That’s when your most tender moments during sex are shared. He’s no longer chasing your high, but enjoying the moment, and you share loving words. This can last a lot, until you are oversensitive and cum because you’ve been at it for so long, you can’t take it anymore. Reiner, on the other hand, just comes at the same time because he can’t contain himself when you’re contracting around his cock.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like quickies. If there’s no other option, he’ll take it. Sometimes you can’t see each other as frequently, and you’ll have a mere hour together, so those are the occasions where he might accept a quickie, but it’s not his style. He needs his time to properly adore you. Otherwise, it leaves him cold a confused. Reiner considers quickies a bit soulless and he gets a bit paranoid that you’re distant or angry. Because of this, he prefers avoiding quickies altogether, because even though he knows those thoughts aren’t real, they make his heart ache even more in your absence.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Reiner likes to experiment different positions. He will try every position at least once – or almost any position. And he takes mental notes of the ones you enjoy the most, for real. Yet the only real risk he takes is having sex in semi public places, and it happens really far in between and at your constant begging. Reiner loves the idea of exhibitionism but can’t handle his shyness.

When it’s late at night, and you are in an office where anyone can enter, you kiss his lips with passion. He knows where this is going, and he’s torn. But your lips are so soft, and your hands roam across the muscles of his shoulders and arms… and he’s forgotten almost everything already. He’s sat on an armchair, so you climb onto his lap, straddling him with your legs. Your fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his dick is already hard and pressed against your sex.

“What are you doing?”, he murmurs.

“Nothing”, you answer. You slowly sway your hips back and forth and Reinter lets out a moan. You let your tongue roam his mouth as you pull on the blond locks of his hair, then his hands find your waist. He’s squeezing you, and he answers to your movements with his own.

There are voices outside, but you don’t care. You undo his pants, and his dick breaks free. You discard your underwear, grunting at the lost of contact, but quickly come back to him.

“So?”, you tease.

“Let me have you already”, he sighs. You’ve caught him unarmed, and he’s ready to surrender. During the hour you are there, nobody interrupts you, but the noise outside is constant. You know he notices because his cock twitches every time. But you can see, at the same time, that he’s having way too much fun.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Reiner’s first round is usually the shortest, because he’s dying to have sex with you. Still, compared to other guys, it’s a long period of time. But once he’s come and breathe a bit, he wants more rounds. And this time, he’ll last much longer because he will be focused on enjoying all you have to offer instead of being overwhelmed with your presence. Reiner, all in all, is a guy with a lot of stamina, and being a warrior only enhances that aspect.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys and he’s reluctant to use them. You might be able to convince him little by little. First, you could introduce him with toys he can use with you… but it will take long and a lot of patience.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You tease him way more that he does tease you. Instead, he loves to spoil you, and even when he’s edging you, if you plead way too much, he’ll let you come. He’s got a heart of gold deep inside, and he can’t avoid not giving you something you want. Reiner’s just like that, attentive and helpful.

He enjoys teasing you with words, though. And he’ll tease you about every little thing you can think of. Until he finds a certain aspect that particularly irritates you, which he will use to his own benefit. He loves when you seem angry, but can’t resist his advances.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s usually silent, releasing a moan here or there. But he will dirty talk a lot, so be ready. He starts with obscene sentences, but he softens and ends up being a flustered mess saying loving words. But the things he says, corny or not, do turn you on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Modern AU! Reiner is not the kind of guy to send dick pics. However, the first time you were sexting, he sent a video without a warning. You hadn’t even sent each other a picture, so it caught you by surprise. It was incredibly sexy, as he was caressing his dick through his underwear, then taking it out and pumping it up and down. However, it took a few minutes to reach, which were enough to make Reiner paranoid. He started apologizing, until you phoned him and told him to come to your place right away.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Reiner is not the longest, but he’s thick. And when I mean thick, I mean that he has to make an effort to make you wet and ready for him. You love it, because it fills you completely and you can feel every little movement, so the stimulation washes over your whole body. He’s very confident in the way he makes you feel, so he likes his size. It’s also slightly curved upwards and a bit to the right, and his head is bright pink. He has foreskin and there’s a big vein gracing the left side. He’s never really thought about his dick at any level – he hasn’t done that thing of comparing his prick to his friends’ – but he can feel his heart swell with pride when you compliment him and praise him, and when you worship him with your mouth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man always wants sex. Unless he’s really, really sad, in which case he needs a good hug… and it sometimes leads to sex because your body pressed against his own and he can’t control his urges. Fortunately, you’re almost always as needy as him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Reiner has a lot of troubles falling asleep. You’re more likely to drift off first. He’s always dwelling on something, but he won’t be anxious. Instead, when your asleep right next to him, even if he’s awake, he feels calm and a sense of peace.

#reiner x reader #reiner x female reader #reiner smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #reiner braun

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 4 years

Text

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I want to talk about trauma triggers in this letter. I’ll use a car crash as an example of a traumatizing event.

First of all, what is a trigger exactly? The easiest definition is that it’s something that triggers a reaction in your body related to a trauma you experienced. It could trigger flashbacks (very intense memories of the event that feel like you go through it all over again) or panic attacks,

It can also lead to physical symptoms (like shaking, nausea or feeling like you’re choking) or make you feel like you’re frozen/unable to move.

The painful memories are usually quite easy to imagine, even for people who don’t have any personal experience with trauma reactions: If someone has been in a car crash and that experience was traumatic to them, we can imagine that seeing a car crash on tv will bring back memories from that day.

Most people would probably understand if the person tries to avoid movies with car crash scenes in them. After all, car crashes are a dangerous and scary thing, and if you’ve been in one, then seeing one can make your body go “I remember this, we were in danger the last time we saw something like this. We are in danger again right now!”.

But triggers are not always that obvious - and in fact, they don’t always come with clear memories at all. The heel of your shoe could get stuck in something and suddenly you “just get irrationally upset over that”: You’re shaking, your head hurts, you feel unreal and distant from everything. Everything feels kinda blurry and scary and you just want to run away...

You may not even make the concious connection between your heel getting stuck and being unable to get out of the car wreck on your own. But your body remembers “stuck” as a warning sign.

It’s often more difficult to explain those triggers to others - “I can’t wear high heels since the accident” just sounds illogical to others. Maybe you weren’t even wearing high heels that day. But the thought of wearing them and getting stuck somewhere again fills you with a horror you can’t explain. You just know it hasn’t been that way before the crash.

High heels aren’t a dangerous thing, there’s nothing inherently scary about them - the human body can still connect them to danger. Panic is difficult to grasp, even for our own brain. And so it tries to create connections to more tangible things, so it can protect you and avoid danger. In that sense, there’s nothing “irrational” about it at all - of course our body will try to prevent us from ever going through something so scary agan!

I will not go into the topic of “how to deal with triggers” here - that’s something highly individual that should to be discussed with a therapist who knows you and your unique situation. I just want to let you know that having triggers is not uncommon and you’re not weird or overly sensitive.

These internet insults like “Snowflake who gets triggered by everything” got it wrong - you’re not weak. You went through something difficult, you survived and now your body tries to protect you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

P.S: As always: I am not a medical professional. Mental health related posts like this one are just based on my own research, my own experiences and things my therapist told me.

#lgbt #lgbt+

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neighborhoodparker · 3 years

Text

Book: Novitious

Word count: 2,191

Summary: Cedric dies. Cho wasn’t the one dating him.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Drabble! A version of this may potentially be seen in the books.

She felt like she had been sitting here for hours. The sleek wood seat underneath her rear had grown uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that no matter how much she shifted she was unable to find peace in her lower back and thighs. At this point, she was nearly ready to burst out of her own skin - her whole body was trembling in anxiousness for Cedric, her Cedric. Amos had long ago given up on trying to comfort the young girl. Instead, he had his own worry plastered across his body - shown in the way his right leg continuously brushed up and down against her left, shown in the worn fingernails he had started chewing on, shown in the way his eyes continuously raked across the hedge mass that filled what was once the Quidditch pitch.

Cedric’s favorite sweater had been pulled over her small frame before they had left the Hufflepuff dormitories to come to the pitch. It was a little big for her, as the sleeves fell past her hands and the left shoulder had slipped down to reveal some of her bare skin. She also had his most favorite, well-worn scarf curled loosely around her neck; he had given it to her as an extra way to keep her calm. The way his scent engulfed her from the clothes did take an edge off of her consuming anxiety, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. She knew that something was wrong. Her gut was continuously twisting in on itself, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She swore her heart was beating millions of beats per minute - she almost felt sick from how hot her skin was growing. In an effort to cook herself down, she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. Her eyes made contact with Amos as she looked at him for the billionth time in the past ten minutes alone.

“He’ll be okay.” Amos whispered, offering her a shaky smile.

She wasn’t sure if he entirely believed the words he was saying to her. His whole posture screamed unease, and the glistening in his eyes was telling her that he felt the same undeniable sense of horror bubbling very deep within his bones. She took a deep, soft breath before forcing herself to return the smile. It felt awkward and out of place on her lips; she knew now wasn’t the time for such pleasantries. She shifted once more, leaning her right side into Neville’s left. He offered her a quick squeeze of her opposing shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed on the hedge looming in front of them. She had to assume the reason she was so anxious was because of everyone around her. Her empathic tendencies were making it way worse than it needed to be. Cedric would be fine. She didn’t think Dumbledore would want to risk losing someone so kind, so good, so strong. He would want him when the war she knew was on the horizon finally collapsed upon their reality.

Her hand found Neville’s, lacing their fingers together. She had been continuously going back and forth between holding his hand, leaning against him for comfort - and offering her own shoulder for Amos to briefly lean against as new waves of anxiety drowned over him. She had lost track of where her boyfriend was in the maze a while ago; if she was asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he and Harry had disappeared within the misshapen claws of the final Triwizard Tournament task.

After she had grasped his hand, trying not to hold it too tightly, she managed to steal a glance of two forms appearing outside of the maze. Her view was then obscured by the sudden movement of everyone around her; their various builds jumping to their feet in lieu of celebratory noises. The music began to play, but she couldn’t fight the panic that began to build in her chest. It bubbled quickly. It simply started around her heart as it constricted, inching down inside her before it slammed into her lungs - taking all air out of her body as her diaphragm was soon swallowed by what she could only recognize as dread. It quickly spread after, making every inch of her body feel numb. She was caught off-guard; she wasn’t sure why she was experiencing such hysteria. Another deep breath filled her lungs as she noticed Amos was trying to get through the horde that kept him stuck by his seat.

Her body went to follow, but was quickly pulled to a halt. Neville was gripping her hand in a fashion that almost hurt. She met his eyes with confusion - he was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, like it was a mixture. Dumbledore was yelling at Harry in the background. Every sound made it clear to her that she had been shoved under water, that she was on the verge of drowning in something she hadn’t yet discovered. She realized, with shock, that the emotions he was showing were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and distress. He discovered something she didn’t. Her eyebrows furrowed as she went to follow Amos again and his grip tightened, preventing her from moving.

“Nev, are you crazy? Let me go,” She tugged her arm. “Cedric’s there.”

“Isobel, you can’t go down there.” He stated.

“Neville, let me go.” She pulled against him again, starting to give him a glare.

“Is…” He trailed off.

“Neville. Let. Me. Go.” She demanded.

Her attention was drawn away from him for a split second, allowing her to see as the crowd around her paused - almost as if they were all involuntarily holding in the same exact breath. He seemed to grip even tighter on her wrist - and she cried out in response. He was trying to keep her from seeing something traumatizing, but was hurting her in the process. She could almost feel the regret of it oozing out of his body.

“You’re hurting me.” She almost growled, starting to become hysteric as she tried to pull away from him. ”Neville, please let go.”

He refused, but it didn’t matter. In the next second, screams from Amos were filling the air - letting everyone know his anguish in something that had to do with his son. She slammed her foot against Neville’s groin without even thinking. She jerked her hand back as he doubled over in pain but she didn’t stay to make sure he was okay. Her body moved on it’s own as she shoved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get down the stands, down to where she had briefly seen the outline of Cedric and Harry.

Someone was calling her name. She couldn’t tell who it was in her state of pure alarm, but if she had glanced back she would have seen Neville moving to grasp Draco’s arm - to hold him back from running to her. It was difficult to get through the mass of students, almost like they were all attempting to block her from getting down to the Diggorys. She could hear the older man sobbing, and she knew that the feeling she had in her gut since she had said goodbye to him wasn’t a mistake. Something awful, terrible, wretched had happened out in the maze.

She finally broke through the horde, and all anyone could hear was a loud, awful, gut-wrenching shriek. Laying there, in his father’s arms, was the first person she had really loved with her whole heart. And he was pale. Lifeless. His eyes stared blankly at the sheet of stars above him, his chest giving no movement. His father was clinging to him like he was the only thing still anchoring him to the world. The grief she felt yanked her forward; it made her legs collapse, her lungs stall, her eyes widened. She was caught by the rough embrace of someone - nearly taking both of them down to the ground with the blunt force of her anguish. She barely recognized that it was Harry as he pulled her into his chest. He tried to hide her from the heart-breaking sight in front of her - even though he knew it would forever be etched in her mind.

Suddenly she was seven years old again, breaking as Draco’s arms held her. Suddenly, she was back in the home she hadn’t seen in months - back in the manor that she had lost so much of her childhood to. Draco was holding her tightly, almost like he was scared she would sink through the floor and disappear if he didn’t try to hold all of her pieces together. Suddenly, it was her mother splayed out on the marble floor, her spiritless body outlined by a growing crimson puddle. She wasn’t fifteen, collapsed on the field of a Quidditch pitch in the arms of Harry. She was at home, witnessing the cruelty of her father; witnessing her world crashing down around her. She was experiencing a pain she thought nothing could ever beat. Her sobs were filling the large foyer of her father’s home, echoing throughout the empty space that was just so previously filled with screams from her mother, that was filled with Draco begging her to stay back with him.

And it didn’t matter if she was fifteen or seven. Because her heart broke all the same. The pain in her chest was immense, vast, monumental. It engulfed her. Her heart had been seized out of her chest and thrown at the ground, just before it was stomped, crushed, pulverized underneath the cruel heel of life. She shattered as her brain filtered through a long list of everything she would never get to see through with Cedric, filtered through the myriad of things his father would never live to see, filtered through the life they one day could have had. And she was that fifteen year old collapsed on the pitch. She was the fifteen year old girl struggling to stay afloat as her grief threatened to drown her. She was the fifteen year old girl who had just lost the one thing that had seen her through her darkest moments.

There she was, wishing the same blond-haired boy was there holding her as her whole world churned, tumbled, disintegrated. But she had a brown-haired boy instead, one with uncontrollable locks and teary eyes hidden behind crooked frames. She took what she was given, accepted that she had lost that blond-haired boy two years ago, accepted that she had Harry. She forced her hands to relieve their tight grip on his jersey before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly to his shaking form. He was crying right along with her and she wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him and reassure him that everything would eventually be okay. But she didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t. She didn’t believe that they would be okay again. Cedric was a loss to the Wizarding World. He was a loss that she didn’t know that she could bounce back from, that anyone could bounce back from. He was a lively, beautiful soul that had offered her a safe haven - he had given so many people hope that things would turn out okay.

Instead, Harry was here - comforting the girl who was always there for other people. It broke her even more to think of how she was failing to help those she loved, but she couldn’t calm herself down enough to help him out. Her chest was still heaving with panic and, though the tears had stopped, her shoulders still shook from the force of now silent sobs. She was terrified that he would let her go, that he would help her back to her dorm and leave her alone. She didn’t want to be left alone; she hadn’t been since she had first met Cedric, since she had moved in with Sirius. She couldn’t handle this loss. She didn’t know what would happen if she was left alone.

“Harry, do you think you could carry her? Let’s clear the area. We’ve already got most of the audience out.” A rough, cracking voice spoke up - pulling her attention away from her screeching thoughts.

She only moved to cling more securely to Harry, squeezing her eyes closed as the owner of the voice pulled them off the ground. She didn’t want to get another glimpse of Cedric. It was already carved into her brain. It took her far too long to process that the voice belonged to Mad-Eye Moody, but she didn’t care. She was more worried that Harry would decide she was okay alone and would leave her. Even so, she was more worried about the feeling of dread growing once again in her stomach. It was almost unsaid between the two of them that they knew that Cedric’s death marked the beginning of the war. This would only be the first of many deaths that would completely alter her existence.

#trsdrafts #theredemptionseriesdrafts

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