#it's very dark and traumatising and i love it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wri0thesley · 6 months

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famous last words - dottore x reader x dainsleif (9.6k)

you can take care of yourself.

cw: dead dove, do not eat. not sfw, minors dni. non-con, drugging, syringes, mind control. yandere dottore and yandere dainsleif. reader is the traveller and has been travelling with dain. bondage, restraints, misuse of the akasha system, reader is traumatised and taken advantage of by dainsleif after being at dottore's mercy. reader wears a dress and has breasts/a vagina, but is referred to by they/them pronouns. please please heed the warnings.

a/n: please please (i am repeating it!) read the warnings on this one. one of my favourite yandere/dark content tropes is actually 'reader has a horrible experience and then a character who is supposed to take care of them takes advantage of them', and i don't think i've ever written it before, so this was super interesting to write!

this was a commissioned work.

Dainsleif has been on edge since the two of you crossed Sumeru’s borders.

He doesn’t say it out loud - you have learnt, over the time the two of you have spent travelling together, that Dainsleif is a man of very few words even at the best of times - but you know his small quirks and foibles well enough now that you sense it. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, the way his eyes are constantly darting about wherever you go.

It’s somewhat in the way he walks closer to you, his height casting a shadow over your own, as if he can protect you merely by being near you. It makes a muscle in your jaw twitch - you are grateful for his care, of course, but surely he knows by now that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? You have gotten used to the feeling of a sword in your hand over your search for your twin - you have made a name for yourself in every nation you’ve traversed, and only some of the time has Dainsleif been by your side.

You suppose that the newfound relationship between the two of you is clouding his judgement somewhat too--

Well.

‘Relationship’ might be too strong of a word.

Dainsleif is hesitant with you even now; checks with you, twice and three times, before he so much as touches your shoulder. But you hope you have made it clear he does not need to, with the way you have let your hand entangle with his and the way you have smiled at him when nobody else is looking, the soft confessions to him at camp overnight that he’s one of only two people in this world you would trust whole-heartedly . . .

All of that, perhaps, has made Dain even more protective over you than he was before, despite the truth of the matter being that you are almost equal in swordsmanship and combat ability. And he’s said enough to you, too, that you understand his hesitance. Other people he has loved have been taken from him - a whole nation, in fact. Dain has had to struggle on for years all alone, and walls built over such a long time do not crumble so easily--

But still. You wish he would not fret so when you walk away from him in Sumeru City to investigate an interesting looking fruit and to ask the stallholder some questions about their wares.

You’re startled out of your reverie - handling the Zaytun peaches that lay in plump piles in round baskets upon this particular stall - by Dain murmuring your name. He has attracted some attention - he is tall and handsome and blond, an air of mystery and exoticism emanating off of him - but he is unaware of the giggles behind other people’s hands, his gaze set firmly on you.

He has always been like that - those piercing blue eyes, even through his mask-like patch - never fail to make you feel as though you are the only person in the world. You have woken up in the night at camp plenty of times, too, and felt safe in the knowledge that Dainsleif is there and his gaze will not falter.

You toss some Mora to the stallholder and turn to Dainsleif, proffering one of the peaches to him. He takes it like a precious treasure.

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, before you take a bite. His brow is furrowed - you sense something brewing in the wind. A kind of unease that lies hot and heavy in the humid Sumeru air. Dain sighs softly.

“I have some things I must do,” he says to you, his voice soft and low. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him, smiling. You wonder what it is that he does not want to take you along with, but you do not push - Dainsleif will tell you in his own time, you are sure. You have no desire to push him too far when his hope seems such a fragile thing still. “I’ll meet you tonight, here?”

His shoulders untense, just a touch.

“Will you stay in the City?” He asks you, and you laugh.

“Dain,” you say, smiling, just a touch of reproach in your voice. “I can take care of myself, you know! Go and do what you need to do. I will be absolutely fine. You know that! When have I not been?”

Dain does not look entirely convinced, but whatever it is that he has a need to do has a hold on him - he looks at you with those serious, piercing eyes and takes your hand. Your cheeks go hot all over as he bends to press a chivalrous kiss upon the back of it. The crowd of admirers that Dain has amassed are all atwitter over this - you cannot blame them. If you’d seen it happen to someone else you’re sure you’d be swooning. Even now, your heart is beating a double time march against your ribcage as you wonder how you got so lucky.

“You promise me?” He asks. You can sense he is barely holding back the urgency in his voice; anxiety that tugs at the syllables like it is weighing them down. This errand he has to run . . . your curiosity runs rampant at what it might be that it is so clearly important to him.

“I promise I’ll be more than fine,” you say to him, smiling. There is the slightest snick of irritation, in the back of your mind - have you not fought dragons? Have you not befriended Archons? His concern is sweet, but he does not need to fret about you so. You say to him, trying to make sure your voice is as reasonable and convincing as possible; “You don’t have to worry about me.”

As it turns out, this proclamation will come back to haunt you.

They will become what are referred to in some places as ‘famous last words’.

You notice the earpieces that the Sumeru citizens wear as you wander around; when you ask someone about it, they look baffled as to your own lack of them.

“Usually you’re given one when you come into the city,” the young woman explains, as she kindly guides you back towards the entrance of Sumeru City. This explains it; Dainsleif always prefers to take the least populated way into anywhere, and most of the time you are happy to agree with him. Your exploits across Teyvat so far have occasionally resulted in some notoriety that isn’t always conducive to exploring new nations; you’re not surprised that Dainsleif had avoided the grand entrance of Sumeru City proper. Still, you’re beaming as the young woman brazenly walks up to one of the men standing at the entrance greeting newcomers.

He has dark hair and a moustache, and is wearing the robes that you recognise as marking him out as a member of the Sumeru Akademiya; as the young woman explains that you two are without the devices - she calls them an ‘Akasha’ - you smile at him, as bright and hopeful and friendly as you can manage.

He nods thoughtfully, and raises a hand to his own Akasha system.

“Just a moment,” he tells you, “I’m scanning the system for any information on you - just to ensure we don’t go around letting in criminals, you see?”

As he does that, you ask a few more questions of the young woman - what it is that the Akasha system does, and whether your . . . unusual physiology (a far easier way to explain it, you’ve surmised over weeks of practise, than explaining that you are a traveller from beyond the realms of Teyvat) will effect it in any way. She is effluent with her praise - the Akasha, she tells you with a wide smile and genuine pride in her voice, has truly revolutionised what it is like to be a citizen of Sumeru.

“This is unusual,” the man says, finally taking his hand from the complicated earpiece of the Akasha system. “I’m terribly sorry, but . . .”

“Is everything alright?”

You hadn’t wanted to mention it, of course - but you’d been afraid when he’d said he was scanning for information on you. Though you have mostly made peace with the nations you’ve travelled through, there have been plenty of misunderstandings too - and there are an unfortunate amount of activities that may be considered criminal in your past. Your heart beats just a little too quickly, as you carry on smiling and hope that your nervousness isn’t written too plain on your face.

You’d hate to get yourself into trouble after promising Dainsleif you would be absolutely fine on your own.

“I’m sure there’s no problem at all,” the man assures you, as he tries to return your smile. “It’s simply that we do have a record of you - oh, please don’t worry, it doesn’t name you as a wanted criminal or some such thing! It merely asks that you be shown to the Akademiya to meet with one of our trusted scholars, if you are to set foot in Sumeru City.”

This sounds a little more understandable, you think, as you let loose a small sigh of relief. Your reputation precedes you in several places - and this scholar would be far from the first person who has sought your help with matters. It’s strange that they couldn’t manage it alone with all of the resources of Sumeru behind them, but you are not in a position to judge.

“Is it just me?” You ask. “I usually travel with another man, a different blond--”

He checks, the vine-like contraption of the Akasha pulsing over his ear, but then he shakes his head.

“No,” he says, as he offers you his arm. “The only information we have is on you.” Another smile, clearly meant to reassure. “I really did mean it about not worrying; if you were a danger, I’m certain that this would not all be so civil. Sumeru maintains several forces of Eremite mercenaries to keep the peace, and the Akademiya itself has the Matra . . . If you were about to be in trouble, there would be far more of a guard than simply me.”

You still consider running. You let your eyes flash over the surrounding area to map out all possible escape routes, to see who you might have to fight if you need to - but in the end, you take the proffered arm. No matter how much Dainsleif might want you to lie low and not attract attention, you can’t help thinking that causing a scene like that would be far worse than going along with whatever it is you’re wanted for up in the Akademiya.

You do not know it at the time, but it turns out to be just another decision that will come back to bite you.

As the two of you walk, Panah - that is the man’s name, you find out - sends a message up to the Akademiya proper via the system, to let them know that the two of you are coming. He seems almost giddy when he is done, a smile playing beneath the moustache.

“I was permitted to speak to him myself,” he says, and you gather from the excitement in his voice that whatever man it is you’re about to meet occupies a place of high honour within the walls of the Akademiya. You’re impressed by the technology; you can’t help thinking how useful it would be, if you and Dainsleif had such a way to communicate when you were apart.

He’s not going to be happy about all of this - but with any luck, this will be a quick thing for you to deal with and you’ll be able to rake in some glory and reputation in Sumeru so the two of you don’t have to worry so much on your journey. A lost dog, perhaps. A band of Treasure Hoarders who need to be taken out--

If you had one of those Akasha systems, you think, you wouldn’t need to be trailing up all of these steps. You bring this up to Panah, and he laughs, still riding a high from speaking to whoever it was he was permitted to speak to.

“Ah, don’t worry about that! You’re going to be very lucky - he told me he even has an Akasha terminal set aside especially for you, with a couple of brand new features he’s been wanting to test out--”

Later on, you’ll curse yourself for these words not setting alarm bells off in your head. But right then, under the bright Sumeru sun and with the freedom of a day in Sumeru without Dain’s occasionally too protective presence, you just laugh brightly and daydream about the knowledge your very own Akasha will place at your fingertips.

There’s a little bit of pomp and ceremony when you make it to the Akademiya proper; the other staff members and workers and students who have been assigned to help you are all excited and chattering as they wave Panah off and begin to lead you into the labyrinthine halls. It’s a beautiful building, to be sure - but it’s deceptively large, and after going through lifts and corridors and being taken through door after door you begin to lose sense of where exactly it is you are. You feel a brief flare of panic inside; you much prefer to be in places where you have an idea of how to escape, should the need arise--

But everyone around you remains excited about the great scholar you’re about to meet, and their smiles and pats and their wistful proclamations about how lucky you are serve to soothe the fear, just a little.

“Here we are,” says one of them, stopping outside a great wooden door with a complicated series of locks on it; some of them are easy to understand (you know what a padlock looks like, after all), but others seem to be rather more high-tech than you’re used to. Whatever it is behind this door, you think, it must either be very important or very expensive. “Oh! We have your Akasha terminal--”

He reaches into the folds of his robe to produce one of the vine-like contraptions that everyone in Sumeru wears on their ears.

“This one was designed by him specifically,” the man tells you in awe, as he reaches over and affixes it onto your ear. “It has a few brand new functions that he wants help testing out, and he said that your experience would be a huge boon in working out all of the kinks--”

Ah. So that’s what he wanted your help with. You wonder which of your exploits it is that has made this scholar think you’d be a good fit for this kind of testing; you wonder, too, why Dainsleif wasn’t included in this idea. The two of you have done so much together, after all--

You feel a brief electric zap that seems to flash over your vision and down to your spine. A little noise in your ear, a sense of heat that lasts barely a moment - and then, the man is stepping away from you and giving a strange little bow.

“It’s working, I think,” he says, as he reaches into his pocket to turn a key, swipe a card, as his own Akasha pulses to life and some of the locks upon the door respond in kind. “Ah - I’m afraid we’ll be leaving you. His temperament can be a little unpredictable, and I’m sure he’d rather meet you alone--”

“That’s alright,” you say, smiling. You wonder what kind of brand new functions this Akasha system is going to have; perhaps something for combat capabilities? Wilderness scanning, to be able to identify poisonous herbs and dangerous animals? The big wooden door slowly creaks open, as the entourage who have guided you into the bowels of the Akademiya all disperse, leaving you alone.

“Come in,” calls a voice.

The voice is familiar; somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you recognise it. A kind of low, smooth drawl of a voice, that shivers with suggestion as it calls out to you. But it is not enough to deter you, now you’ve made it all the way here.

You step into the room, walking further and further into it to see that it’s a . . . workshop, of some sort. There are a few tables scattered with various tools, deconstructed machinery lolling on the floor and propped against walls. There are a couple of remains of Ruin Guards, but in Sumeru this is hardly a surprising sight--

The door slams closed behind you. You hear the click and the whirr of the locks resetting themselves, trapping you in here, but even then you still do not panic just yet. You are in the Sumeru Akademiya, after all - what horror could possibly befall you at the hands of someone so well-regarded, in such a beacon of wisdom and hope in the nation?

That’s when you spot the bed in the middle of the room.

Sterile white sheets, white metal frame, restraints at the head and at the feet. An IV standing proudly beside it; a table to one side that is scattered with, instead of tools and screwdrivers, medical equipment. Needles and scalpels and pill bottles. Your throat goes dry.

“Ah,” there’s that voice again, and out of the shadows steps a figure. Your brain snaps into action sickeningly quickly; this is indeed a man you recognise. This figure, in his doctor’s coat and long boots, with his hair falling over a masked face-- “You’re just as lovely as I remembered you.”

You crouch, your body primed, your position ready to jump to attention at any moment. You reach behind you to will your sword into your hand - if you incapacitate Dottore quickly enough, perhaps you can knock him out whilst you search his workshop for tools to help you break the locks--

“Oh, my,” he says. “Such an unwelcome reception, my dear. Still. That won’t be for long.”

“Open the door,” you snarl, through gritted teeth. “Let me out, and I won’t ram my blade through your throat.”

He smiles beneath the mask, the tilt of his lips almost fond.

“There’s that lovely fire,” he says to you, in a pleased purr. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for you for what seems like forever.”

“I’m warning you--” Your fingers wrap around the hilt of your sword. Your breath comes short; your heart pounds.

You do not truly know if you could take Dottore in a fight - he is ranked second of the Harbingers, after all, and you do not think such a position would be granted without some combat capability. But you have to hold fast to your hope - and without Dainsleif here, all you have to rely on is your own skills. What might happen if he does overpower you doesn’t bear thinking about--

(You’d noticed, the last time the two of you had met, the way his gaze behind the mask had lingered on the shape of your body. The way he had spoken silky smooth, shivering with intent, when he had addressed you. The way his leather gloved hands had felt, on your shoulders, lingering there as if they wished they could be somewhere else--)

“Ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, chiding. “Now, darling. That won’t do at all.”

You realise too late that the Doctor himself is not wearing an Akasha system earpiece - but you are.

And as you feel it pulse into life, as bright colours flash against your vision and you stumble, your sword slipping through your fingers . . .

Everything goes black.

“Now,” Dottore’s voice cuts through the blackness, as everything seems to slowly fall back into place like a jigsaw puzzle being re-assembled. “This might hurt a touch. Just a sharp scratch, my dear--”

You’ve been strapped onto the medical bed, just as you had feared. The straps are wrapped around your ankles and your wrists, binding you spread-eagle upon the thin little mattress. You can still feel the vines of the Akasha system wrapped around your ear, and your throat clogs with the fear of it - if it could knock you out stone cold, what else could it do? Your eyes flutter open, and Dottore pauses--

He’s leaning over you with a syringe in his hand, the liquid within glowing with the same blue glow as the earring he wears. As he sees that you’re awake, his mouth opens into a wide smile with just a hint of too sharp teeth.

“Oh!” He exclaims in delight. “You’re finally awake! My, you’ve missed quite the little drama.”

He carefully places the syringe down upon the metal table as he reaches over you and fiddles with some kind of control on the side of the bed. Slowly, it creaks upwards, propping you up a little so you are bent at the waist.

“That’s better,” Dottore coos. “Now we can all see one another. Look, darling. Your knight in shining armour.”

Dainsleif.

How long have you been out cold? How easy was it for Dottore to strap you onto this operating table - how deeply did the Akasha knock you out?

Long enough for Dain to realise you were missing. Long enough for him to track you down - long enough for he, too, to be overpowered by the second Harbinger and find himself entirely at the Doctor’s mercy.

Your travelling companion sits across from the bed you are restrained upon, ropes tied around his broad chest to keep him lashed to a rusted metal chair. A gag has been crudely shoved into his mouth so all he can do is make a soft little distressed noise at the predicament you have found himself in; more ropes bind his ankles to each leg of the chair, just to ensure that he’s fully unable to so much as wriggle in his bindings. He stares at you, agonised.

“We’ve been talking about everything I’m going to do to you,” Dottore hums - and something hot and sour crawls into your throat as he leans over, and his leather gloves caress your face like a lover and not like a madman. “Ah, sweet little traveller . . . I’ve barely been able to wait to get my hands on you. A pretty face like that, and that fighting spirit . . . Ah! You stick in a man’s mind.” His smile is just as wide and unhinged as ever as he taps your cheek fondly. “I don’t think your poor knight is going to enjoy it, but . . . well. I’m sure you will.”

You struggle in the bonds, as your strength returns to you. You try and use your not inconsiderable strength to see if you can loosen the leather around your wrists, as fear of the undercurrent of desire in Dottore’s words and anger at Dainsleif finding you like this and worry about Dain himself all war at once within you like a churning whirlpool.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you seethe at Dottore, tugging hard. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but it would be better for everyone if you just let me go now, and we can pretend none of this happened--”

Dottore throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh,” he practically purrs at you. “You’re so lovely when you’re enraged. But . . . ah. No, I don’t think I shall. Now, my dear. How shall we start? A kiss, perhaps? Your lips have been haunting my dreams recently--”

“I’ll bite your tongue off,” you snarl, and though you cannot see Dottore’s eyes you can tell from the way that his face moves that he has raised his eyebrows. He lets out a low, silky chuckle.

“Ah. So that’s how it’s going to be. Well, if so . . .”

He reaches back over to the metal table, and in his hands now he lifts the syringe once more. He taps the barrel of glowing blue liquid once, twice, that infuriatingly calm and smooth smile returning to his face.

“This won’t knock you out,” he tells you. “I want you to be aware of everything we do together, darling, so you remember how good it makes you feel . . . how much we belong together. But it shall . . . how should I put this? Take a bit of the edge out of you.” He leans in; finding the crook of your elbow, thumb smoothing softly and almost lovingly over the patch of skin. “I’d hate for all of your fire to go missing, but . . . perhaps we should at least dull your teeth a little, hmm?”

Dainsleif makes some awful noise; a whimper crossed with a moan, a kind of noise you’ve never heard the stoic Twilight Sword make before, as the needle sinks into your skin with a sharp scratch. Panic flares in your mind white hot at whatever kind of concoction is being injected directly into your veins--

But the panic quickly dulls, as you feel the drug beginning to take effect.

It adds a muzzy kind of quality to everything. You see Dottore and Dain before you - the Doctor smiling, Dain agonised behind his patch and gag and rope. You know that there is something terribly wrong with this scene, but your mind is too hazy to pull up the specifics. You go to open your mouth and put word to a question, but nothing comes out - your tongue is too heavy, your teeth feeling as though they’re in the wrong place in your mouth.

“Oh, lovely,” says Dottore with relish. “My, you took to that sedative better than even I hoped you would! Sweet dear thing, will you let me kiss you now?”

You know, in that hazy mess of your mind, that you do not want this man to kiss you - but as he leans forward, you cannot remember why. You cannot make your tongue move to say no, and before you know it a pair of lips have firmly pressed to your own, tasting of the smell of antiseptic and peppermint. Dottore kisses you as thoroughly as he does everything else - his mouth working against yours, sharp teeth tugging at your lower lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth and laying claim to the shape of it as if he is an explorer mapping out newly conquered territory.

From somewhere that seems very far away, you hear another angry noise, half groan and half moan.

Dottore pulls back, his tongue tracing his lips as if he’s savouring the taste of you left on them.

“Even better than I imagined,” he murmurs. “But . . . ah, my dear, don’t you want to kiss me back?”

There’s a pulse by your ear. Your mind short-circuits - and then Dottore is leaning in again for another kiss, and without you sending a single signal to your body you are kissing Dottore back, your mouth working against his, your tongues twining with one another as if possessed by an unknown force. Dottore groans into your mouth, at the same time as one of his gloved hands comes to land on your thigh, bare beneath your skirt.

You realise dully that it is the Akasha, taking control of your body; doing exactly what Dottore tells you to do.

If you hadn’t been drugged with the sedative that the Doctor had used, perhaps this realisation would make horror rise in you - it clearly does in Dainsleif, who struggles desperately against his bonds. But to you, in your current state . . . it is merely a realisation that washes over you like a cool stream. An inevitability.

“Ah,” Dottore says, and he smiles something horrific and tender down at you. “We’re going to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we?”

Those gloved fingers slide higher and higher up your thigh, the touch remaining soft. You think it would be better if he started pawing at you like an animal; if he ripped and tore at your clothes. Something about the softness of how his thumb moves over your inner thigh, the soft untouched skin there - something about the gentle way his thumb brushes over your underwear . . . that feels a hundred times worse than you could ever imagine.

He sighs in pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it; your wrists and ankles bound, your entire body prone, your veins numbed with sedatives. Your eyes seek out Dain’s across the room - and he looks at you, so broken that you think you will cry.

Dottore’s other hand reaches up to the catches down the side of your dress. They are there to make it easier to dress yourself - catches and buttons up your spine are not helpful when you are alone or injured, and since you have found yourself in Teyvat you have been both of those things more often than you’d like to have - but you curse them, now, as Dottore’s other hand gently (oh-so-gently) peels them from your body and you are almost bare before him. Your nipples pebble in the cool air; your cheeks flush hot at how he tilts his head to look down at you.

If you could see his eyes, what would you see written in them?

“Oh,” Dottore is quiet when he speaks; appreciation dripping off every syllable. He moves his other hand away from where he’s been constantly petting at your sex through your underwear in order to turn all of his attention to your newly bared chest; you feel the hot flush across your collarbones at the sheer admiration that seems to ghost every movement. “You’re even more lovely than I could have thought.”

His leather-clad palms reach down, taking a handful of the soft curve of your chest; squeezing the half-globes in his hand, sighing happily at how they fit in his grip. His thumb and forefinger find the nub of your nipples, pinching one each until they stiffen and pucker beneath the attention and you squirm, a hot little bolt of lightning going straight from the place Dottore is pinching to the place between your thighs.

“You like that?” He murmurs, not missing the way you shudder beneath the attention. “Ah, sweet thing - has your knight not done this for you? Have you been saving yourself for me?”

Again, you can’t make your tongue form words; all you can do is let out a little whimpering moan of a noise that makes Dottore chuckle. It sounds far too close to affirmation for your liking, but what can you really do, as Dottore continues to pinch and pluck at your nipples and the warm zaps of pleasure and excitement continue to run hot in your veins?

You can hear the way your breath is starting to come out in little pants; how it shudders in the air, heat coalescing between the bots of you as Dottore’s insistent pinches further cloud your mind. You can’t help the noise that falls from your mouth as he bends his head and applies his tongue just so upon one of the buds; as it swirls around it, suckling the nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention that makes your back arch involuntarily.

Dainsleif, still bound across the room, fights against the ropes once again and lets out a muffled noise of anger; words caught in the gag, vitriol spewed at the Doctor as he does whatever he wants to with your body. It is all for nothing, though.

Dottore’s thumbs are hooking into your underwear. The thin cotton tears at the seams at only the flimsiest tug from the second ranked Harbinger, and then Dottore is looking down at your spread thighs and the folds of your sex on display for him and cooing at you so sweetly that it cloys.

“Oh, darling,” he says to you. “You’re this wet for me?”

It’s not fair.

Frustrated tears rise to your eyes. In your current state, drugged and confused, under all of Dottore’s touches . . . your body has betrayed you. You know you’re wet; you can feel your own slick, oozing out of you, your folds wet with droplets of arousal. Desire to be touched warring with disgust for the man before you inside of you - frustration that you cannot so much as speak to put voice to your anger. Not even to beg him to stop.

Hand on your thigh. Two fingers, deftly parting the lips of your labia so cool air hits the sensitive inner folds; the swollen bud of your clit, waiting to be touched, thrumming with excitement. A whine catches in your throat at the sensation of being studied like this; the way that Dottore is looking down at you like a wolf about to thoroughly enjoy his meal.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, again. “So much lovelier in the flesh.” He turns his head without turning his body, catching Dainsleif’s gaze. “Look, Twilight Sword. Ah. Don’t you wish you were in my position now? Aren’t you simply longing to have your wicked way with our sweet little Traveller?”

Dain struggles desperately, the muscles of his shoulders flexing, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth working at the gag firmly pressed within it. You know that he wants to help you; that Dain would tear Dottore limb for limb for what he is clearly about to do to you, if only he could get himself free.

But, too, there’s something in his eye that you do not want to admit to.

Shining bright behind the agonised blue is a palpable lust; a desire to be in Dottore’s place. You know that Dain would never hurt you - would never strap you to a table and use you against your will, you’re sure of it - but that look in his eyes makes you shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Dottore assures him, turning back to you with that wicked smile on his face. “I’ll make sure you get to watch.”

He eases the way his fingers are keeping you spread apart in order to be able to slowly slide his index finger through the valley of your sex; to wet his glove on all of the slick, to let it gather on his fingertip. He raises that gloved finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you as he tilts his chin back to savour it.

“Ah,” he says, as he tugs his glove off with his teeth. “Forgive me, my dear - I simply must feel you without them.”

His fingertips feel just as cold, as he touches you with them instead of the gloves. Your back arches again, though your own restraints keep you on the bed and stop you from being able to wriggle away from Dottore’s questing fingers even if the sedative hadn’t filled your limbs with honey.

Dottore lets out a soft chuckle at the way your body moves, another chiding click of his tongue.

“Breathe out,” he advises you, as his finger circles your entrance, as his thumb finds the swollen pearl of your clit and begins to draw slow, firm circles over it. “It will make it easier, sweet thing--”

One of his fingers swiftly presses inside of you, punching the air out of your chest. You hate it, you think - you hate the feel of his slender digits pressing further and further inside of you, the feel of him crooking his knuckle just so that the bone rubs against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars--

It feels good, too. You don’t want it to. You don’t like how the feeling of him inside of you seems to satiate an ache that had started when he had rubbed over the seam of your underwear and kissed you and toyed with your chest. You don’t like that, as a second finger rubs around your entrance in preparation to be put inside of you, your breath catches in excitement at the thought of being stretched further.

“That’s right,” Dottore is murmuring, his own voice a little breathless now as excitement leaks into his tone. “Oh, you’re doing so well, lovely thing. Ah-- you have no idea how good you feel. Like silk . . . Thinking about doing this to you doesn’t at all measure up to the real thing.”

The thought of Dottore having these thoughts about you makes your heart twist. You close your eyes, just so you don’t have to see Dainsleif sitting across from you, watching you with agonised eyes as Dottore’s fingers make you feel a way you didn’t know you could.

A few more months and perhaps you would have imagined Dain himself doing this to you - something more intimate than the shy, awkward kisses the two of you have so far shared, as Dainsleif silently agonises and worries about his body being tainted and his curse ruining everything that shimmers between the two of you like fragile gossamer. Perhaps then, it would have been slow and careful - Dain waiting for you to give the go-ahead, letting you lead . . .

That choice has been taken from you, now, as two of Dottore’s fingers scissor inside of you to open you up wide and his thumb continues to rub over your clit in firm, sure circles. The way that Dottore touches you would almost be clinical - designed solely to make you feel good, to prepare you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, to make sure that your slickness would provide adequate lubrication for the glide of the same - were it not for the bright mania that fills his grin as he stares down at you, watching your sex swallow his fingers with every wet, slick pump of his wrist.

That is the look of a man very much enjoying what he’s doing to you.

“Sweet Traveller,” he murmurs, low and cajoling. “I think you’re going to come for me.”

You have just enough control of your body to toss your head weakly, shaking it from side to side, your hair falling over your face. It does not hide the fact that your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bright, that your chest is heaving as every rub of his fingers sends brand new sparks of pleasure careening to the middle of your stomach into a hot, tight ball.

“Oh,” Dottore’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. “That wasn’t me asking, darling. Come for me.”

Another zing; a zap, a pulse, where the Akasha terminal is wrapped about your ear--

And your body twitches and pulses under his command, as the hot tight ball of want inside of you seems to get a signal from the terminal that now is the time to explode. You don’t know how to explain it; the way that your mind seems to contract at the same time as your body, and then you are panting and whining helplessly as shivers rack you underneath Dottore’s twisting wrist, his insistent thumb.

He lets out a sigh of pleasure as he pulls back, his fingers glimmering wetly with your own orgasm. Again, he lifts them to his mouth; again, you see a sharp flash of teeth as his tongue traces his own digits and he savours the way you taste on his tongue.

“That’s more than enough,” he says, pleasantly. He looks at Dainsleif, the blond all wide-eyed and desperate and seething with hatred, and gives him another smile that is like the edge of a knife. “Don’t you think so, knight? Ah. Don’t you think it’s time for me to take them fully?”

Dainsleif struggles again, and Dottore laughs like a creaked, rusting hinge on a sharp iron gate.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” he says, syrupy sweet. “Oh, they mean more to me than that. I merely want them to understand how badly I need them . . . and how good I could be for them, too.”

The sedatives in your system do not allow you to fight back; to bare your teeth and growl and tell him you could never imagine how he could possibly be good for you. But though your mind churns with these thoughts, your body is still not quick enough to respond - your veins still weighed down with honey. Too tenderly, Dottore reaches for your face; traces his thumb over your cheekbone.

“We are going to consummate our mutual adoration,” he tells you, and he reaches for his fly. You hear the buttons of his placket undo as if you are somewhere very far away, button sliding through button hole. Dottore sighs happily as he repositions the table and himself, making sure that Dainsleif has an even better view of the way that he slots himself between your thighs. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel Dottore’s cock slap against the bare skin; the wet, slick head of him, as he rubs it over your own soft inner thighs. You burn with humiliation, as the wet pap of him slapping the cockhead against your cunt echoes in Dottore’s workshop, and the Doctor keeps smiling as if he’s enjoying himself terribly.

“How about,” he says, loud enough for Dainsleif to hear it, “before we begin, you tell me what I want to hear, Traveller?”

You blink at him slowly, as he pushes his hips forward, and the head of his cock catches on the ring of your entrance; as your body clenches and puckers, waiting for him to move further forward. You wish he would just get on with it, but at the same time you wish that this wouldn’t happen. If you were fully in control of your body, you’re certain you would be struggling and sobbing and spitting - but you are not.

“Oh,” he murmurs, syrupy sweet. “You don’t know what I mean? Darling, let me say it a little simpler whilst you’re still all addled from me making you come . . . Loud enough for the Twilight Sword to hear, now. Why don’t you tell me you love me?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

It’s not really silent; there’s a buzzing in your ears, there’s a constant hum from the machinery that surrounds you both, there’s the sound of three people breathing within the room, panting and seething and hating . . . but that’s how it feels.

You would never tell this monster you loved him.

But Dottore is still looking at you, his cock still pressing against your entrance, his head still tilted to one side, his mouth still quirked in a smile - and there’s an eager kind of obsession in his gaze, as if he thinks you might actually get the words out--

The pulsing in your ear. The flash across your brain. You can’t breathe; you can’t think, through anything but the sudden desire to tell the Doctor who’s about to ruin you that you love him.

Your tongue is slow. Heavy. Your voice echoes too loud around the room.

“Doctor . . .” Dainsleif lets out a pained whine behind the gag. “I-- I love you--”

“Oh, good-- well done--!”

Dottore pants in wild pleasure at the sound of your voice, the way it sounds desperate and reedy not with hate, but with feeling. He cants his hips forward, still too wild - and your head falls back, a whine escaping your slow-tongued mouth as his entire cock sheaths itself inside of you in excitement.

It’s easier to close your eyes.

You do not want to see Dainsleif, over Dottore’s shoulder - the disappointment and horror and despair that’s written clear across his handsome face. He must have seen the Akasha pulse, he must know that you would never say such a thing of your own volition - but that doesn’t stop the fact that you did say it, and he did hear it. Eyes squeezed shut, the feel of him inside you is all the worse; the way you can sense your body tightening around him, the feel of being stretched wider than you’ve been stretched before.

Dottore’s pants do not let up; there’s a desperation in him that you would never have thought the Doctor possible of - bringing a horrifying kind of truth to all of those things he had said, all of the ways he had stared at you. Perhaps it is more than just lust--

And that makes it all the worse.

His hips judder against yours in desperation, his white coat rustling as it rubs against your own bare body. One of his hands explores your chest, even as he keeps rutting into you; thumbs pinching at your nipples, palming at your hips and your waist and your chest, as if he cannot truly believe this is happening.

He is undone, like this; and you cannot quite believe he is letting you see some of those walls fall down. There is no more the strong, smooth Doctor - the one who could raze cities to the ground if he so chose. There is a man; a man who is fucking into you, a man who wants to have as much of your body as he can, a man who seems to want to devour you.

You cannot believe he made you say that you love him. The Akasha upon your ear feels like a parasite, worming its way into your psyche, taking complete control of you. You think of Dainsleif, forced to watch, and a juddering sob manages to tear itself from your throat.

Dottore kisses your cheek, the tears catching on his lips, his tongue tracing the saltwater tracks.

“Don’t fret so, darling,” Dottore murmurs, against the apple of your cheek. “It’s alright . . . Doesn’t it feel good?”

It doesn’t - and it does. You don’t want to admit to the way that his constant thrusting and the grinding of his pelvis against your still-swollen clit are working together to make your insides churn, your body feverishly hot and confused. Your breath comes out in pants that match Dottore’s own. You can’t come for him again, you simply can’t - it doesn’t matter, you try and tell yourself, that there is heat bursting anew in your stomach. That it is not really because of Dottore, but natural biology--

You came earlier, yes, but Dottore told you to; used the Akasha against you. If you came now, without him forcing you to, it does not bear to think about - it doesn’t bear to think about how Dain might react, if he watched you come of your own volition under Dottore’s fucking--

No matter how sternly you try to speak to yourself, one cannot stop biology in its tracks.

Dottore’s pelvis batters against your clit; Dottore’s cock bullies itself mercilessly into you, as if it is trying to make you mould to the shape of him. With each thrust, it rubs against spots inside of you that your own fingers have never been able to reach; ones you had never realised would feel so good. You try and tell yourself, over and over and over, that you will not let yourself come for Dottore.

But your body betrays you.

Your body betrays both yourself and Dain, a man who you had always thought would be the only one to ever do this to you, though you had not let your fantasies yet get further than a hand over your dress, skimming your bare thigh. You come for the second Fatui Harbinger, as he continues to fuck into you with wild abandon - and this time, you do not even have the Akasha to blame it upon.

Your wrists are still held either side of your head by restraints; all you can do, as the spasms of pleasure resonate out from your sex and into every other part of you, is dig your nails into your palms. All you can do is let out a heavy, slurred whine-moan escape from your parted lips. All you can do is take it - come for the Doctor, the way he always knew you were going to.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips double their speed, desperately rutting into you. “I didn’t even have to tell you to, that time - you want me just as badly, don’t you? Oh, sweet thing, don’t worry, I’ll give you everything I have--”

His words are slurred too; he is too far gone within the euphoria of finally being inside of you. His hips rock into you, harder and harder, his cock twitching wildly as he hisses out your name.

He comes inside of you with a wild bite into your bare shoulder, grunting and groaning, more animal than scientist - proof that, beneath it all, he is just a man. He remains there, humming into your skin, his cock softening inside of you. His tongue licks across the bite on your shoulder as if he wants to remember the taste of you.

“Why,” he says, a pleased hum in the back of his throat. His cock twitches. “I think I might even do that again--”

There’s a knock on the door.

You are still too out of it after what Dottore did to you to register much beyond his frustration that he is being called back to Snezhnaya, now of all times. An awkward assistant, unsure of what they’re supposed to be doing, lingers by Dottore’s side as the Doctor grumbles under his breath and pulls your clothes back on over your bruised body, his come still leaking out from between your thighs.

“I’ll see you again,” Dottore says to you, with a smile, as he brandishes another syringe. “Oh, I won’t be forgetting about how much we shared any time soon, darling. You’ll keep me warm many a cold Snezhnayan night.”

The syringe is brought up to your elbow; the liquid injected directly into the vein once again. You barely have time to wonder what he is injecting you with this time before the heaviness of unconsciousness begins to blur the corners of your vision.

Dottore strides across the room to Dainsleif, another syringe glowing within his gloved fingers.

Before you slip into oblivion, you watch Dottore roll up Dainsleif’s sleeve, and you hear him say this;

“Now, I’m sending them back with you, Knight - but you won’t soon forget, will you, that they told me that they loved me?”

You slip into the abyss.

You wake back up at the camp you and Dainsleif had established, on the edges of Sumeru, as safe as the two of you could find - as if absolutely nothing has happened.

Oh, there’s the lingering reminder of Dottore - there’s a soreness to your thighs, there are bites on your shoulders, there’s a muzzy headache from the drugs and the way he had used the Akasha upon you . . . but other than that, there’s nothing. The system itself isn’t even attached to your ear any longer.

Dain, too, has reminders of the ordeal upon him - rope burn on his wrists. A burning look in his eyes when his gaze falls upon you that makes your insides crawl in fear, lest he be disgusted by you now - lest he never want to look at you again. Perhaps, you think wildly, he is going to cast you away - say that the two of you can no longer travel together, accuse you of being damaged goods . . .

It does not end that way.

Dainsleif stares at you across the clearing after waking up, as if he is trying to sort all of his thoughts out. His fingers twitch, his eyes raking over you desperately - and then he has moved, lightning quick, and his arms have wrapped around you and you are being crushed against the weight of his chest.

“I thought . . .” He whispers into your ear, his voice so broken it makes you ache. “Oh, I can’t believe he would . . . I’m so sorry--”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you whisper to him - relieved to find that your tongue and your throat are once more capable of working. You reach up to touch his face, and Dain groans, torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away as he so often does, so worried that he’s somehow going to taint you.

You’re not sure if you could ever feel more tainted than you do right now.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” his voice cracks. Dainsleif is normally so stoic and solid; you cling to him as you journey through Teyvat, relying on him. Seeing him like this makes you ache.

“You won’t,” you reach for his hand, take it gently and place it over your collarbone, shivering at the touch of his glove on your skin. “See? I’m still here.”

Dain sighs again, his lashes fluttering closed against his sculpted cheekbones. He murmurs your name again, so softly you can barely hear it; and his fingers slide along the imprint of that same collarbone, to your shoulder, until they find the place Dottore had bitten into when he had come.

“I can’t bear seeing his marks on you,” he whispers. “I want to scrub you free of every touch.”

You close your own eyes and let yourself be lulled into Dainsleif’s arms; you let your head rest against his chest, you let yourself be comforted by the familiar scent of him. His fingers don’t stop tracing the bite marks, his touch getting more and more agitated.

“Dain--” You murmur. You’re suddenly so tired. You know you were just unconscious, but that’s not the same as getting real rest. This morning - or was it this morning? How long were the two of you really with Dottore? How long had it been before Dainsleif had come to find you? Whatever the case, it seems a hundred years ago now.

You wonder if Dainsleif would mind if you fell asleep on him, right here.

“Please,” Dain’s lowered his head now. His breath flutters against your ear; delicately tickling your ear. “Let me . . . Let me make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, but it clearly means a lot to Dainsleif, and you do not mind the gentle touch of his hands as they smooth softly over the places Dottore has bitten, the places you have bruised. Dainsleif has lost so many people, after all - you do not blame him for wanting to check on you. You nestle your head under Dain’s chin and he takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Do I still smell like myself?”

“Don’t joke,” his voice breaks. You don’t know how else to cope with it; the thought of Dottore’s hands all over you, the reminder of what the Doctor took from you. Dain’s hand slips under the bodice of your dress.

You go all-over cold, all-over still.

Dainsleif doesn’t even notice. His hand gently travels further down, further down, squeezing the weight of your breast in his hand. Your fingers twitch where they lay against him, cradled as you are in his arms - but Dainsleif is still murmuring to himself now, lost in a frenzy of his own thoughts, and for the first time you feel afraid of him.

“Dain--” You try to say, throat clogged. “Dain, don’t--”

“Please,” he repeats, ragged. “I just . . . I need to touch you. I need to know you’re here. I need to know he didn’t--”

You can’t do this. Your heart jumps into your throat, a sickening thumping beat as Dain’s thumb rubs a circle over your nipple and traitorous body, it responds to him just as it had to Dottore.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you,” Dainsleif whispers, broken into your ear. “Let me . . . I won’t hurt you . . .”

His other hand, pulling you further into his lap. Holding you spoon-fashion against him, like a lover.

You wouldn’t complain, ordinarily.

But now . . .

All you want is for him to hold you. All you want is for him, you think, to kiss your forehead and reassure you and take care of you. The way his hands keep travelling over your skin - the other is kneading at the flesh of your thigh now, his breath coming in those same great shuddering pants as if he doesn’t have full control over his own body right now. You whimper aloud as his hand brushes further, further--

You’re not wearing underwear. Not after Dottore had torn it at the seams.

Dainsleif sighs.

“It killed me seeing him touch you,” he whispers into your hair, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head, disgustingly tender. His fingers are petting at your folds, his arms iron-tight like the ropes that had wrapped around him earlier. He doesn’t notice that you’re trembling; he ignores the soft little entreaties you do manage to get out.

“I can’t,” you say, as Dainsleif tugs at your nipples.

“Dain--” you whimper, his fingers spreading the lips of your sex apart.

“Not yet,” you beg, as he drops a kiss over the bruising bites Dottore left on your shoulders.

“I wish I could cover you with myself,” Dainsleif says, as he continues to use his mouth and his fingers and acts as though he does not hear a word. “But . . . oh, I don’t deserve you . . . Not yet . . . Please, let me make sure you never think of him again--”

It’s too much. Too much, too soon, your body churning with feelings and your mind churning with thoughts that you can’t yet put in place, because Dainsleif is touching you and not listening to you and you wonder if this makes him just like Dottore, in his way.

You think about yourself, in Sumeru City, your smile bright, laughing off his concern - and you think about Dainsleif now, his touch so possessive and so desperate that he’s going to cover the bruises Dottore left with bruises of his own.

“I’ll be fine,” you had said. I can take care of myself.

Dainsleif takes care of you, when you cannot; when you are injured or sick or lost. You have always had him to rely on; your travelling companion through Teyvat, as you desperately tried to make sense of the world that you have found yourself in.

Here, though . . .

You think, as the tears roll down your face, you could do without Dainsleif taking care of you like this.

#writing #dark content for ts #non con for ts #dead dove do not eat #mind control for ts #dub con for ts #genshin impact posting #commissioned work #not sfw text

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bunni-v1 · 4 months

Note

Okay so the traumatised!reader not forgiving Jamil was absolutely fantastic!

Would it be alright if I requested the same premise but for Riddle after his overblot (he did insult us, attacked us and was the very first to overblot)?

Overblot Trauma: Riddle Edition

TW: Mentions and discussion of PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Childhood abuse, and most things in that vain!; Swearing!; Mostly un-edited, this took too long to write lol

Info: Ace, Deuce, Grim, Trey, Cater, Riddle x Reader (platonic (especially in grim’s case)); gn!reader, unless I managed to fuck up!

🍓Hi. Yippie, new writing, I did it! Anyway, I went for a different approach than Jamil's part simply because... well... Riddle's whole scenario is completely different! Btw, I wanted to make it clear that I ADORE Jamil, and me giving Riddle forgiveness isn't a bias thing! I simply believe that this is how this scenario would go! Love you all, mwah!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02

Jamil Part

This year was going to be yours, at least it was supposed to be. You were the top of your class, the best in your field of study, and you had nothing but the best opportunities in your grasp. For once in your life, you were exactly where you wanted to be… until you weren’t.

A horse-drawn carriage wasn’t too big of a shocker for you. You knew that some farmers would try to socialize their horses by taking them through town. Maybe a bit odd for where you live, but you could accept it. Until it started coming straight at you, whinnying as it clomped toward you at Mach speeds.

You tried to outrun it, you really did. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, but this horse was determined to ruin your life. And, oh god, did it.

When you woke up, it was dark and you could hear voices muttering outside your… box? You were convinced you had died, and this was your judgment day in the afterlife.

But no, it couldn’t be that simple, of course not. Instead, it was inter-dimensional travel, and you were now stuck in a Hogwarts-esque world with no way back home. You didn’t have any ruby red slippers to click you back home, not Toto to keep you comfortable. No, you got stuck with Grim who was anything but a comfort.

You wouldn’t let it ruin your perfect year, though.

You’d decided to make the most of your shitty situation. You cleaned up your awful dorm, befriended the little troublemaking cat, and even fitted your janitorial uniform so that it was more comfortable to wear.

Then… you meet Ace, and everything spirals. Again.

Statues caught on fire, chandeliers were broken, giant sludge monsters were fought, and unfair punishments were dished out upon you. That was fine! You could handle that! The monster in the mine was scary, but whatever, magic was going to be scary to you regardless. You could do this! You were going to handle everything life threw at you!

What you couldn’t handle, however, was Ace and Deuce’s tyrannical Housewarden: Riddle Rosehearts.

He was a selfish, entitled crybaby who had a stick shoved so far up his ass you wondered how he could walk without limping. All of his dorm members seemed terrified of him — except Ace, who also had the entitlement stick shoved up his ass, but this isn’t about him.

Riddle caused more than a handful of issues for you by kicking Ace and Deuce out — over a tart. Well, in Ace’s case, it was a tart. It was ridiculous, and it was more trouble than it was worth for you. More mouths to feed, more whining to hear, you couldn’t put up with it.

So you rush Ace and Deuce back to the dorm to find a way to apologize and end up meeting their far more responsible upperclassmen, Trey and Cater. The two of them were far more sympathetic to your position than Ace and Deuce ever were. You wished you’d managed to attract them instead of your bumbling idiots.

Still, they help you, and things are looking up for the idiot quartet… until they aren’t.

The tarts that Ace and Deuce worked so tirelessly on were mouthwateringly delicious. Marron tarts with extra chestnuts! If they weren’t for Riddle, you would’ve torn into those things!

Things were looking good, especially when Riddle seemed more than pleased to accept Ace’s forgiveness gift…

Then, Riddle, stick somehow shoved even further up his ass than before, blows a gasket because of some stupid arbitrary rule. Something about no tarts on the billionth day of the month… ugh. So stupid.

He tore into Ace, he tore into Deuce, he tore into you. He just kept going and going on and on like a little child. You can’t even blame Ace for punching him, you were about to do it yourself if he hadn’t.

But.. something was wrong. You expected Riddle to just scream louder, but this time he didn’t. He was quiet, and you could see that his face was twisted up in a mix of anger and pain.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. It was thick and suffocating, crawling down your throat like it wanted to rip your lungs out. Only when you saw the black sludge leaking from Riddle did you realize it was ink invading your senses?

You watched with your mouth agape, body trembling, as his body morphed in front of your eyes. The clean, well-presented Riddle you knew changed into a disheveled beast who could hardly be described as human.

He looked dead, with skin so sickeningly pale, and his body moving in a way that it really shouldn’t be able to.

He kept moving, and he kept talking and screaming, so he wasn’t — but no one's skin should be that grey. No one should be leaking ink in the first place.

The battle against him was a blur, you were simply running on instinct the whole time. Dodging, running, and throwing whatever you could to keep yourself safe. Still, you ended up with quite a few new scars and spent a sizable amount of time in the nurse's office.

Sure you got studentship for yourself and Grim, and yeah you helped Riddle overcome his trauma. You felt for him, you did. He was a good person at heart, and you wanted him to better himself and heal from the scars his mother left.

But what about you? What were you supposed to do now that you’ve been through that? What about your scars? What about the scars he gave everyone else?

Surely you couldn’t be expected to pretend that everything was fine?

Ace and Deuce

-Ace and Deuce hadn’t seen you in a good few days since the last tea party Heartslabyul held. -You being reclusive wasn’t much of a shocker, you spent a lot of time alone, to begin with, but disappearing for this long…?

-Now, it’s not like the three of you were absolute best friends at this point, but you had become pretty close up until now.

-Plus you’ve survived a lot of very scary experiences together… surely that meant something?

-It meant something to them.

-Still, you’d practically ghosted them and it was out of character for what they knew of you.

-Even when they were annoying the shit out of you, you still gave them a place to stay and helped them take care of themselves. You were kindhearted.

-Ghosting your (tentative) friends wasn’t exactly a good sign.

-So, them being themselves, they decide to come to pay you a visit at Ramshackle and wrangle some answers out of you.

-They were not expecting you to answer with tear tracks down your face and eye bags so dark they almost looked black.

-Ramshackle wasn’t any better either.

-You normally kept it so neat and tidy, but it was messy with clothes and dirty dishes scattered about.

-It was so weird to see you in such a state since you were so happy and full of life and determination before this.

-Then again, it did sorta make sense. You’d been through a lot in the past few weeks, expecting perfection wasn’t fair for anyone in your position.

-All of you had been through a lot, Ace and Deuce were just better at putting up with it than you.

-Grim didn’t seem to be much of a help either, clearly lost on how to handle human depression.

-Luckily, Ace and Deuce are willing to help.

-By help, I mean to annoy you, but they’re doing their best!

-Ace definitely pokes and prods at you a lot, and complains that you have to get up and go to class.

-It’s annoying, but you know he’s right.

-If he does take it too far Deuce is right there to put him back in line and assure you that you can take it at your own pace.

-The two of them are so sweet though, seriously. They help you clean up the place so that it's mostly back to its former glory (as much glory as ramshackle can have, of course).

-They walk you to class together every morning, even if you have ungodly eight ams. (You do hear Ace complaining a lot, though).

-They eat with you to make sure that you’re eating — and if you don’t eat with them, they come to your dorm with a full meal that they picked up for you.

-Most importantly, they keep you distracted from thinking about how horrifying the whole overblot was.

-The two of them need the distraction too, though they won’t admit it to you.

Grim

-Grim watches you go through everything firsthand.

-He lives with you, of course, he’s gonna see the rough stuff.

-He could tell something was off at the tea party, you just didn’t seem as involved as you usually were, but he brushed it off.

-He was more focused on eating as much food as possible.

-When you got back to the dorm, however, is when he noticed something was really wrong.

-Normally you’d take a nice long bubble bath, and the smell of your soaps would fill up the whole of your bedroom, but not today.

-You just fell onto your bed without a word.

-Still, it was a long day! Grim was pooped too, he wouldn’t wanna make up a bath either.

-Then you started to cry. You cried and cried and cried until you fell asleep.

-He didn’t know what to do, he never dealt with a crying human before!

-All he could do was curl up next to you and let you cry into his fur.

-You’d be better tomorrow, he told himself.

-But, nothing changed the day after that, nor the next, nor the next.

-By the third day of you laying around he was getting antsy. Would you ever cheer up, and could he help you at all?

-He’s grateful for Ace and Deuce coming around when you didn’t make it to classes that day.

-They explain to him, vaguely, what human depression is and how he can help more.

-Really, he isn’t able to do more than he’s already been doing, but you don’t need much more from him.

-He’s the perfect companion for you, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Cater

-Cater doesn’t know you, okay.

-He would love to get to know you! You’re quite a treat to be around, and you keep his pesky freshmen in line, so he does like you.

-Again, he doesn’t know you.

-He does, however, notice that at the little celebratory tea party, you are not doing too well.

-What he’s seen of you, you were a spunky bitch who didn’t take shit from anyone.

-But, here, now… you were quiet. You didn’t seem like you were really here with anyone in the room.

-He decided to keep a close eye on you, just in case.

-He noticed your symptoms, he’s lived your symptoms, so of course he’s looking out for you.

-Besides, the overblot scared more than just you — you just had a lot more to be afraid of than them.

-When Ace and Deuce wander back to the dorm complaining about how you skipped your classes for the day, a million alarm bells go ringing in his head.

-“Go check on them.”

“Cater- you were listening?”

“Hush, just go check on them! Now! GO!”

-Cater is not your friend at this point, the two of you are acquaintances at the very most, but he knows that you need someone there for you.

-Please excuse him for assuming, but he doesn’t think Grim would cut it.

-He also talks to Trey and Riddle about it all too.

-He knows that you and Trey are closer than he is with you and that he’s more likely to be of help than Cater is.

-Tells Trey to make you sweets that Ace and Deuce can give to you. Also give him advice on what to say in case you seek him out — especially since he’s closer to Riddle, you’re more likely to go to him with your worries.

-However, Cater does not expect you to seek him out.

-He was so busy working overtime behind the scenes keeping everyone together that he didn’t even think that he was part of the equation.

-You sought him out simply because he wasn’t Trey or Riddle.

-Trey would be more sympathetic to Riddle and Riddle was the core of the issue. But your reliable Senpai Cater? Surely he’d be more logical about this.

-You figured that he had something to do with everything since Ace and Deuce don’t seem emotionally intelligent enough to help you with something as sensitive as trauma.

-First you really just want to thank him for his help, but as you talk to him both of you just break.

-You, because you hadn’t really been able to talk about what you’ve been through. Cater, because he put everything on his shoulders as if it was up to him to fix it all.

-It’s therapeutic, to just cry with someone over the horrible things that you’ve been through together.

-You sort of become each other's rock when it comes to recovery.

Trey

-Trey is the backbone of Heartslabyul.

-I know we give him shit for being boring and normal, but he’s the reason anything keeps functioning around his dorm.

-He needs to be normal, because if he can’t keep a level head, who will?

-Sevens, he’s having a hard time now though.

-Riddle is going through his own issues, coping with the fact that he confronted his traumas head-on and hurt so many people doing it.

-Ace and Deuce were the core of the issue, and he could tell that neither of them was ready to deal with whatever feelings they’d been feeling.

-He can’t even lean on Cater like he normally does, because Cater is running around like a madman trying to ignore his own trauma.

-So… It’s just Trey, and he’s having a hard time figuring this shit out because he needs time to cope.

-He doesn’t get the chance to, though, because he has to be there for Riddle more than anyone.

-It’s not like he doesn’t want to be there for him, they’re best friends, but Sevens Trey is exhausted trying to get things back to where they were.

-You don’t even cross his mind in the chaos until Cater asks him to make you those marron tarts you seemed to love so much.

-You must be going through it.

-As he bakes them up for you (making some extras for his dormmates), he thinks about how hard this must’ve been on you.

-You’re not even from here. You were just trying to help out, and you nearly lost your life because his best friend couldn’t control his temper.

-You didn’t deserve that. No one did.

-He was supposed to give the tarts to Ace and Deuce, but after his thinking, he figured it was better he went to see how you were doing himself.

-The older brother in him couldn’t stop the worry from taking over now that you were on his mind.

-He knew that Ace and Deuce got you going back to your classes, and you weren’t so scared that you never came to Heartslabyul, but he wanted to make sure.

-When you open the door you look tired, but light up at the sight of the treats in his hands.

-While you and Grim are chowing down on the snacks he made, you two talk.

-Trey finally, finally, gets to talk about how he’s been feeling — because you are so sweet and so kind that you want to hear how he’s been.

-He gets to tell you how tired he is, how he feels as though he can’t allow himself a moment to deal with his own thoughts, how worried he is about everyone. How angry he was at Riddle, and how happy he was that Riddle was changing.

-It’s cathartic to get it all out, but he feels guilty for dumping it all on you.

-He was here to check on you, not pour his heart out.

-But, you tell him that you wanted him to talk to you about it. Ace and Deuce pretend like it never even happened, so to hear someone else be just as angry about it as you felt good.

-The two of you spend a lot of time together that night — Grim is there too, but this isn’t about him — and both of you feel like a weight is lifted off your shoulders afterward.

-Both of you make plans to bake something together later that week.

Riddle

-Riddle is going through it, okay.

-Not only is he dealing with the physical ramifications of his body twisting around in ways that it really shouldn’t, and the long-term lung issues he’s going to have thanks to all the ink.

-He’s also dealing with the fact that he acknowledged how awful his mother — whom he’d idolized — truly was.

-How awful he was because of her, and how many people he hurt because he wouldn’t face the music soon enough.

-Still his life didn’t stop. He still had to ensure that he was fulfilling his duties as a houswarden, and he also had to continue tutoring and running the equestrian club and his own coursework.

-His way of coping with his issues is that he works himself to death.

-Sure, he does take time to tell Trey how he’s feeling, and he has spent many sleepless nights in his room crying, but he’d rather be working than doing that.

-So he does. He works and he works and he uses his work as a punishment for himself because he does not deserve a break after what he did.

-He has to make up for the horrible things he’s done to people who simply did not deserve it.

-He’s so busy working that he forgets to make it up to the person that matters most.

-You and Riddle aren’t exactly avoiding each other, but you certainly aren’t seeking each other out.

-You know that Riddle was going through a lot and you’ve already forgiven him at this point, but you haven’t found the strength to seek him out yet.

-The both of you just happen to bump into each other in the kitchen of Heartslabyul. (Courtesy of Trey and Cater!)

-You were waiting on Trey (he promised he would make some sweets with you today), and Riddle walked in (he was also promised sweets).

-It was… awkward, to say the least.

-What do you say to the guy who traumatized and nearly killed you and your friends?

-What do you say to the person who you nearly killed?

-Well…

-“I’m sorry,” Riddle finally said, snuffing out the awkward silence, “I allowed myself to become so angry, and I hurt and scared not only you but myself. I don’t know how anyone could ever forgive me, but I am truly sorry.”

You stayed quiet, mulling over his words. You knew he was sorry, from the way he’d looked at you since his blot. You could only begin to imagine what he was dealing with in his head this whole time. How harsh he must’ve been on himself since the incident — and isn’t that what started this whole thing in the first place? His unnecessary harshness? He shouldn’t be so hard on anyone, especially not himself.

So, you being you — forgiving and understanding — you sigh and place a hand on his arm. He looked at you, shocked at your gentleness.

“It’s alright, Riddle. Sure, you really scared the shit out of me, and yeah I’m still kind of scared of you, but I know you’re a good guy. It’s not your fault that you’ve been through such awful things.”

-You made him cry.

-Good tears though! Happy tears! It’s the first time he felt seen in a very long time, and he promises you that he’s going to change for the better.

-To his credit, he does start to make those changes, and he does so very quickly.

-He begins to be more open with his friends, and he’s more relaxed about the very stupid rules that he used to enforce.

-He goes out of his way to talk to you specifically at this time too. He offers to become your tutor (which you desperately need, since Crewel is well… cruel.), and you two grow surprisingly close!

-You bond over how much stress Ace and Deuce cause you, and Riddle learns how to socialize like a normal person from you.

-(You surprise him with just how popular you are, despite being essentially bottom of the barrel at NRC. He has much to learn!)

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim twst #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader

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merricatblckwood · 8 months

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I'm thinking about the fact that so many BBC Sherlock traumatised veterans ended up being huge fans of ofmd or good omens and I feel like. Nature is healing or something. Queerbaiting aside, Moffat and Gatiss were taking themselves sooo seriously like oh look at this very heterosexual dark genius and the fans were like "oh he's gay and autistic and in love with his best friend and he's smoll and cute" and that would piss them off so bad.

With ofmd and good omens it's so unapologetically silly and unserious and any interpretation could end up canon and everyone is cute and emotionally stupid and creators and fans are on the same vibe

Nature is truly healing

#i guess i could've mentioned supernatural but i wasn't in the fandom for long and it was such a long time ago #so i don't know enough about it to talk about #idk if there's a point to this post it was just a thought that made me happy #and also a kind of petty revenge like “look mofftiss if you embraced the sillyness and queerness of the fandom you could've have it all”#you could've have it all bitch #anyway bye #ofmd #our flag means death #bbc sherlock #good omens

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spicyicetea · 5 months

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So I got the new Pokemon DLC for Christmas and I’m on a big Pokemon kick currently so I’m going to give a gift to my fellow Pokémon lovers. Now I’m more well known for Yandere work but I also do love doing more soft romantic stuff. It heals my traumatised self. So I’ve decided to go through all Pokémon games I’ve played and write romantic and yandere sfw+slight Nsfw headcannons for every character I personally like. [No DLC content because I haven’t played any of them yet]. If there are any characters I haven’t done that anyone wants, either comment or request and I can add it onto this post. Merry late Christmas!

As mentioned before, these posts will contain NSFW topics like violence and sexual references, so if you’re triggered by these topic please be careful. The reader in this is also a Fem reader, I can redo this post for a Masc or GN reader if wanted but I’m writing it as Fem currently is just easiest for me. I don’t describe appearance like skin colour or hair but I do write the Y/N with a curvy figure in mind (I can’t help myself, I love thick thighs IM SORRY-)

Kanto

Red

Ah the original silent protagonist. I love this man so much, even more after his cameo is Sun and Moon. I’m not sure what it is about him but he has this strange allure to him, although I doubt that’s a unique opinion on silent characters. Anyway, onto the headcannons.

This is almost a given with the silent types but I feel like he is an amazing listener, only ever nodding to show he’s still listening or giving small “mhms”

You’re probably the only one he comfortably talks to other than Blue.

In public he likes holding your hand, he often communicates through squeezing your hand or fiddling with your fingers.

Psychic boyfriend No.1

This man can just tell what you need, when you need it. Whether it’s comfort cuddles after a bad day of for period troubles.

Speaking of period troubles, this man not only will buy you whatever you need, he’ll wash the sheets, run you a bath and let you use him as a personal heater.

Yandere + NSFW

This man doesn’t open up to people easily yet you made him fall apart.

You made him stutter, drop things and slip up in battles when you cheered for him, he’s whipped.

You were the only woman that’s ever caught his attention and you aren’t leaving him anytime soon.

So get used to him possessively having a hand on you at all times, glaring daggers at any other person you pay attention to.

He’s a very private person so isn’t one to leave marks on you openly, but he does take great pleasure in leaving dark marks on your thighs.

Speaking of thighs… he’s a giver, do what you want with that.

Blue

Ah the smug bastard rival, and I promise you… he’s still insufferable, but in a loving way.

Bullies you playfully. A day doesn’t go by where he doesn’t mess up your hair and trip you up.

But he loves you truly.

You could not have asked for a more cuddly man, I didn’t expect to have this headcannon but I imagine this man is very eager to stay cuddled up to you as much as possible.

Although he talks a lot and loves it when you compliment him, I also think he’s a good listener, but like I’m a hype man way.

He’ll sit by the bathroom door while you’re in the bath letting you vent about anything you want just egging you on. “Wow she sounds like a bitch-“

A man who loves PDA, it’s his favourite way of staking his claim on your beautiful self.

Yandere + NSFW

Has dated his fair share of girls, but he wants you so bad.

He will fight for you, no matter what. This man will abuse whatever position he has to impress you. A relative of the professor’s, ex Champion, and a gym leader. He will do whatever he can to have you.

He is incredibly touchy, the moment other people aren’t looking, his hands are under your shirt. Nibbling your neck and kissing your earlobes. Actually he’d do that even with people watching,

Although he’d be mighty mad if someone watched your gorgeous body, he might even hurt someone.

Brock

This man is underrated.

The most loveable family man you’ll ever meet.

He loves to cook for you. Everyday. Please let this man make you breakfast in bed.

In fact no, he wants you to cook with him. All romantic. His chest to your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ears while you chop up vegetables.

If you get along with his siblings, he will propose to you on the spot.

Very openly affectionate, but never goes further than a hug in public… ok maybe you can get a kiss on the cheek.

Yandere + NSFW

This man has a breeding kink… you can’t change my mind.

He wants a nice big family and the idea of you, heavy and round with his baby. Not to mention how your… other assets will change.

Will happily suffocate in your tits, and if you’re pregnant, he will help relieve any discomfort you have.

If another man hurt you in any way, he’s going to go… missing. He’d break a man in half over his knee for you, and his Onix is very strong.

Lance

Am I the only one who would smash? Yes? No? Alrighty-

He’s always hits me as a someone who likes spending time with his lover in silence.

Not opposed to PDA but gets worried about his fans potentially harassing you, let’s you borrow his dragonite to escort you between towns.

Away from the public and just with his friends (elite four mainly) he loves to have you by his side, often whispering things about his day to you, information he only shares with you.

Also a man who is very hot, like he’s warm constantly, will be the best snuggler when it’s cold.

Yandere + NSFW

Originally I thought this man would be rather… vanilla but I feel like he’d be into wax play. I can’t explain it, but I can picture him loving to spill wax all over your tits.

For the more yandere side of things, he’s the strongest dragon trainer in Kanto. He will use his influence to make himself your only option, not that you’d realise, he’s not an idiot.

Giovanni

BARK BARK BARK GRRR MAFIA DADDY-

Your relationship is hidden very well from most people, you don’t get to villain status with a clean record and no enemies.

Despite that, you love a life of luxury baby.

He loves nothing more than to pamper you. His beautiful girl sat on his lap, with her hair all done up and nails all pretty. Now that’s the life.

Yandere + NSFW

I think he has great Yandere potential.

You sat comfortably on his lap in his office, his hands trailing comfortably under your skirt.

He loves watching you squirm as his fingers traces tight circles- well that’s all you get for now.

As I mentioned before, I believe he’d default to yandere to be honest.

He would not hesitate to kidnap but I like the idea that he’d try and woo you first. Dinner dates… wine… murdering his competitors.

Yeah, he’d be a yandere.

Johto

(I’m ashamed to admit I’ve never played these ones so I have no significant opinion on any of the characters)

Hoenn

Steven

This is just a crow in a human form, mr I love shiny rocks (me fr fr)

His love language is most definitely gift giving. Your shared house is littered with crystals and shiny things he’s found over his travels.

He loves to press kisses all over your fingers, buying you as many rings as possible for you and him to match. If he buys himself a new ring you’re getting one too.

Loves showing you off to the elite four, and begs that his dad approves. Not that he needs his approval but it’d be awkward if he didn’t.

Yandere + NSFW

Possessive as fuck.

You ain’t getting away from him easily. He will track you down as long as he needs to before you calm down and quit running away.

Loves pampering you once you behave though.

He kisses up your legs to your thighs, such passionate loving words followed by the mantra of “dirty girl” and “slut”

Maxie

Ok all the villains just radiate Yandere energy- so they’re all gonna be pure yandere + NSFW warning

This man doesn’t have it in him to kidnap someone… oh wait that’s a lie.

When he met you that all changed

He needs you, he would hurt anyone to get you to himself.

He’d leave dark bites on your neck, massaging your hips to tangle you together.

Another man I think would be into wax play, also a corruption kink. (No I won’t elaborate)

Archie

Big brute of a man… he’s going to make you beg for his mercy.

He loves holding you in his lap, cradling you delicately while he peppers kisses along your neck.

Will bite you, this man is a shark and will leave slightly bloody bite marks all over your body.

This man eats pussy for breakfast, you will never not cum first, a truly good man.

He is far more eager to kill a man to prove his love for you than he should be.

Sinnoh

I’ll be honest I tried to but I’m tired and I’m just going to be writing Yandere and NSFW headcannons. I’m sorry people-

Barry

This boy is so happy to finally have met someone who loves him… you’re not allowed to leave, he’ll cry.

For some reason I see this mans as wanting a family… he wants to be a more present father than his own.

Not one to leave marks on you but will beg you to stay home so he can cuddle and pamper you all day.

When he eventually takes over the battle frontier (he so would you can’t tell em otherwise) he will use that position to “protect you”.

Cyrus

Ah yes, the cold emotionless man who falls for a sweet woman and kills all competition… I approve!

PDA? Who is that? The most you’ll get from him is his hand on your shoulder moment before he orders team galactic to handle someone who was making moves on you.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You’re the only woman he could ever love.

He lays awkwardly in bed but melts when your head rests on his chest, that was when the yandere switch flipped and he locked you in his apartment.

At least the man lays some good pipe, also this man has a bondage kink cause I said so.

Unova

Elesa

You think that the world won’t notice the famous model and gym leader with a girl on her arm. You’re going to end up centre of the Unova news for the next month.

She loves this though, now everyone knows you belong to her, and anyone who ignores that will just get zapped.

Prepare to share clothes, and prepare for her to watch you undress, she can’t help herself.

The woman loves to zap you, just lightly though, you’ll live… and probably cum.

Emmett + Ingo

Yes you get both, these two are a package deal ok?

Now… prepare to never leave their sight.

They want you at every battle, cheering them on, cuddling with the Joltiks or napping in their office using their coats as blankets.

Now… ok these two are kinky. They just are-

Ingo is 100% a family man, big breeding kink.

I think Emmett is more, adventurous, bondage and impact play seems right in my opinion.

Love to… “threaten” to throw people on the tracks when they flirt with you.

Aww what a sweet little thing, come and give me a hug- now time to hide you away where no one can ever see you again!

Honestly, he probably fell for you after seeing your relationship with your Pokemon. Almost every Pokemon you see likes you.

He’s very possessive over you. It’s no secret that he was raised in an incredibly unhealthy way, so he can’t exactly discern between inappropriate and appropriate behaviour in pursuing his courtship with you.

Now onto more NSFW art themes, he 100% praises you constantly and makes sure you’re tended to first. Often ends up super pent up because he wants to take care of you but sometimes go so far and overstimulates you. Don’t worry, the aftercare is amazing though.

Ghetsis

. . . Bastard

I’m only including this mother fucker because he’s so evil he’d be one of the most extreme Yanderes out of all of them. And because if still smash because I’m sinful-

The moment he sees you and falls for you, you can bet you’re getting kidnapped, sorry you just are.

I would bet money that he is the most possessive out of all of them but, and hear me out, would also be kinda attentive?

I can totally picture him being cold and accidentally upsetting you only to spend the rest of the next day showering you on gifts.

You’d also be seen as a god to the rest of team plasma, so enjoy being worshipped.

Oh and NSFW… spanking, degrading and tying you up, enjoy

Colress

Ah yes, my adorable scientist that I think is a kinky motherfucker-

He would make a collar to track you when you leave his side, he isn’t too keen on the idea of locking you insider after all.

Wouldn’t kidnap you but would murder the competitors.

Anyway onto the kinks I think would suit him…

He’d 100% make different types of vibrators so he can cuff you to the bed and watch you squirm. Considered making you a ball gag but he gets off on your moans, that does mean he ends up edging you before fucking you himself.

Kalos

Lysandre

Sugar daddy

I could leave that like that but fine fine I’ll feed you horny bastards.

He parades you around more than any of the others, always making sure you’re wearing the finest clothes. Usually also wearing his jacket, he can’t stand gawkers staring. Admiring your beauty he can handle, but staring at his woman is punishable by a flamethrower.

You live the luxury life. Fancy bath soaps and massages. Cafe trips daily so he can make sure you’re eating well. Sex in the back of his car in secluded car parks when you’ve been misbehaving at dinner.

He’s a rough lover but amazing with aftercare, so there’s that.

Alola

Nanu

Dilf energy… and I’m hungry for it I’ll be honest.

So tired, but you give him energy. Energy to do crime to keep you to himself but still energy. But hey why argue, you get to cuddle his cats all day.

Also, if you’re a trainer that has cat Pokemon… he’d probably marry you. Proposal on sight. Already on one knee.

He isn’t very openly affectionate but as long as no one is around he’ll always have an arm around your waist. You’re well protected.

Another man that I believe would make sure you cum first every time. Just make sure you have a warm bath after for your back, he hits me as a rough lover.

Guzma

Oh you poor girl… not because he’s going to treat you bad but he’s obsessed.

You’re probably kidnapped by team skull but you had no idea it was a kidnapping, it was more of a scooby-doo chase.

Yeah you now have like 50 babies to care for but don’t worry, big sis Plumeria and your new husband will help you. What you don’t remember getting married? Oh silly, you belonged to him the moment your eyes met.

He’s very inexperienced with relationships so give him a little time to learn. He’s a fast learner in bed so he won’t leave you unsatisfied. Will pamper you anyway he can.

Oh and have mercy on this man… don’t wear his clothes, he can’t handle it.

Hisui

Volo

Little shit… he’s going to try and use anything he can to claim you.

Whether that be advances in front of people to scare them off and stake his claim over you.

He does have a decently good reputation so no one would expect him to be dangerous, so you’re kinda fucked, Cyllene would protect you if she needed to though.

He talks down to you all the time, you’re not his equal, you are his property in his eyes.

Adaman

This man is smitten. No more smooth and confident Adaman, this man is a stuttering mess.

He wants to marry you so badly, please let this man marry you… and then put a baby in you but marriage first.

This man gives you jewellery, clothes, helps you befriend Pokémon or catch them depending on which method you prefer.

Cuddler, he will snuggle and cuddle as long as you want, so what he has duties? His pretty little wife wants his attention and you will get it.

Irida

Had noooo idea how to handle her feelings. Probably started as a childish crush at first but it developed into something much more.

She wants to spend the rest of her life with you by her side.

Glares at everyone who speaks to you, even people from her clan. She’s very jealous very easily.

But she loves you, and will let you spend unsupervised time with some people she trusts… only her Wardens, although she doesn’t trust Ingo as much as she doesn’t know him as well, not with you at least.

Warden Ingo

Dilf energy again

His memory may be strange and shaky but he remembers how to treat a woman he loves. Remembers things Elesa told him and Emmet, although to him it’s more echos of voices he thinks he knows.

He loves cuddling up to you while watching the newly hatched sneasels learn how to live. Although this does awaken a want for family he forgot he had.

He isn’t the most trusting person, but he is a good judge of character… and has gotten into a fistfight with Volo when he hit on you. Blood was drawn.

He throws a good punch, but would never hurt you, he adores you, you make him feel good in a familiar way.

Anyway you freaks want NSFW- this man lives up in the mountains, them rough hands can do wonders. And he loves making you feel good, people pleaser but only for you.

Paldea

Arven

Aw what a sweet boy, who will strangle anyone who tries to take you from him.

This boy lost both his parents and nearly lost his best friend/dog… he is terrified he’ll lose you too.

He cooks he cleans and then makes sure to rub your back and give you love so you’ll love him back

Please give this boy some affection or the boys around you will pay the price of you don’t.

Professor Sada

Mommy?

This woman is feral, not only did she basically throw you over her shoulder when she met you but you never don’t have bite marks all over your skin. It’s her way of telling everyone your hers.

I feel she’d give more freedom than Turo, only if Robo Sada was with you for safety… and to break the arms of whoever looked at you the way she did.

Also this woman is a mosterous pussy devouring fiend, don’t argue, you know I’m right.

Professor Turo

Oh daddy Turo- criminally underrated daddy let alone Yandere daddy.

I feel like Turo most definitely would have kept you locked down in his lab with him, convincing you that you help him with his research. I mean… he isn’t wrong, you motivate him to keep going.

However girl has needs and he often get consumed by his work. It wasn’t until he caught you handling problems yourself on your shared bed that he decided robo Turo should take over his research a little bit more.

It’d be a shame if you fell in love with a toy he so kindly made for you than him himself.

Larry

Ah my favourite ordinary business man… I’m so normal about him.

He is very normal about you too, except the fact that he has pocketed any handkerchief you’ve used while eating with him.

Oh and many dates that are just trying new food, oh and bird watching.

Again, call me weird but I think this man wants a family, total breeding kink.

Also I feel like he likes a rather feminine woman, not in the frilly skirt way but in the way of “I don’t N E E D a man but I like you”. You like him, right?

Rika

M m mommy?

Dominatrix… owns a whip… bondage. ANYWAY-

Not above using their position as elite four to scare off competition and keeping you in line.

Oh don’t cry, you won’t escape anyways.

She only uses PDA to send a message to other women or men, “hands off”

Jacq

Teach me about biology bb-

ANYWAY… loves to discover new Pokémon with you.

Will happily teach you about your favourite Pokémon for your attention.

Please don’t look away, he’ll have a breakdown.

Miriam

Ah cute little nurse… she has access to so many dangerous drugs.

She will scream and cry if you choose someone else, don’t do it, she’s an ugly cryer.

She loves to give you “check ups” when no one is looking.

On a side note, don’t you know that orgasms are good for your health? You didn’t? Oh silly let Miriam help you out, her fingers can work wonders.

THIS TOOK FOREVER…

But it was worth it enjoy animals. I want to get more serious with Pokemon x reader writing so I hope some people enjoy this… I’m never doing this big of a post again… this was meant to be a Christmas post- way to many bloody tags to add :,)

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web-novel-polls · 3 months

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MXTX Side Characters Tournament

[Image ID - two images. The first is a cropped image of Shang Qinghua from the cover of the English Scum Villain novel. He has brown hair tied up in a loose bun. He is wearing a light blue-gray ribbon in his hair the same color as his robes as he glances over his shoulder at the viewer.

The second image is a drawn image of Jiang Cheng from MDZS looking at the viewer with apparent disgust or contempt. He has long dark hair tied up by a silver hairpiece with bangs framing his face. His eyes are a pale blue. /End ID]

Shang Qinghua / Airplane from SVSSS

Submission: He's a sidekick and he's so sidelined that despite creating the universe he's treated as an afterthought - doubly a side character! But also? So relateable. He would absolutely have been on tumblr in his first life, he gets so excited about his blorbo who treats him terribly (until they finally get a happy ending in the extras - also! he has to wait for the extras to get his happy ending! very side-character of him). He holds the fascinating position of being mostly irrelevant to the story and yet without him the themes would totally fail. He deserves a win on something for once, okay?

Jiang Cheng from MDZS

Submission 1: Extremely traumatized yet also somehow the most normal and functional by the end. Huge bitch but I (and at least one of the other characters) think he deserves to be even worse after everything he's been through

Submission 2: Simultaneously badass and the most cringefail man. Extremely funny and stylish but still manages to be very uncool. Cries a lot. Also he's lost a lot of tumblr polls—let's give him another shot! We definitely love him more than his dad did!

Submission 3: He's got mommy issues AND daddy issues. He loves his sister and his shige so much. He's traumatised and incredibly competent. He rebuilt his whole sect! He's an asshole (affectionate). He's purple! He's got the coolest weapon ever conceived. I'm so worried about his blood pressure basically all the time.

["Anti-Propaganda" that attacks other characters is NOT allowed. Please only give reasons to vote FOR a character.]

#shang qinghua #svsss #jiang cheng #mdzs #mxtx #polls #mxtx side characters tournament #mxtx side characters grand finals #queue

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partnerlesspansexual · 8 months

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No, you kill it!

(Hobie Brown x Gn!reader)

Synopsis: Hobie being an absolute man baby

It's around 9:30 pm. You're nesting on a pile of soft blankets and cushions on the sofa in your and Hobie's shared flat, reading your favourite book and munching on your favourite snack, peacefully winding down after your stressful day at work.

But just as you're about to fully surrender your body to relaxation, you hear a shrill, high pitched scream come from the kitchen. You jolt upright, startled by the sudden loud noise and are curious as to what the hell just happened. After roughly 2 seconds of silence, a voice calls out from the kitchen.

"Y/N! Can you pop into the kitchen, please? Preferably NOW"

Hobie yells in distress.

You sigh as you effortlessly decipher who the voice belongs to. Then you begrudgingly drag yourself off your sofa nest and through to the kitchen (at a pace a lot slower than Hobie would prefer). When you reach the entrance to the kitchen, you lean on the doorway and fold your arms as you behold the site before you. Hobie is crouched on the kitchen counter, plunger in hand and is adorning an expression that gives the impression that he's just witnessed the most disgusting creature known to man. You smirk and raise your brows at him.

"Evening love. If you don't mind my asking, what the hell are you doing in here?"

You ask, your tone laced with exasperation as you eye your boyfriend with a suspicious stare. He points to a black speck in the middle of the kitchen floor with a shaky hand, and speaks as his voice quivers with fear.

"There's a s-spider"

He whimpers like a little boy who's just been severely traumatised. Your eyes widen before you burst out laughing, clutching your chest as it heaves with hearty chuckling. Tears begin to stream down your face as you try to contain your outburst of laughter; all the while Hobie is glaring at you as if you've just kicked him in his crown jewels.

"It's not funny"

He grumbles, crossing his arms like a moody toddler that has been denied sweets. After a moment, you're able to regain your composure and give Hobie a sarcastic look.

"Oh, but it is, my love. It truly is"

You saunter closer to him, a smug expression slowly spreading across your face.

"The great Spiderpunk himself, Mr Hobie Brown... is afraid of spiders? My my, the irony of this situation is just delectable"

You tease him as his cheeks flush a dark shade of red, his embarrassment becoming very visible. After a moment he rolls his eyes and bonks you on the head with his trusty plunger.

"Yes, yes, there'll be time to mock me later, but right now I have a favour to ask"

You eye him suspiciously, raising one of your brows at him

"Go on?"

He takes a deep breath before responding

"I need you to kill the spider for me"

You make a shocked face, pretending to feel sympathy for the 8 legged creature just to annoy Hobie

"Why would I do that? He's just a little guy, he's not hurting anyone"

You say with an overly sappy tone as Hobie looks you dead in the eyes and responds with

"That's a load of bollocks and you know it! That wanker is a menace to society"

He shouts passionately as he waves his plunger at the spider. You give a hearty chuckling and decide to put an end to Hobie's suffering.

"Alrighy, alright, princess. I'll pop him outside but I'm not killing him. Deal?"

You hold your hand out for a handshake, hoping this will satisfy Hobie's bloodlust and hatred for the tiny arachnid. He ponders for a moment and then returns the handshake with a nod.

"Deal"

You chuckle and shake your head as you crouch down to the floor, pick up the little spider and walk to the front door. But before you reach it, Hobie calls out to you again.

"Y/N!"

"Yeah?"

You yell back, wondering what on earth he could possibly want now

"Love you!"

He shouts as a warm flush spreads across your cheeks and you roll your eyes at his adorableness

"I love you too, you big baby"

You call back

(I know this isn't my best work but it's 10 pm and I'm so tired 😭)

#hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x reader #gn reader #atsv hobie #atsv

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bluespiritshonour · 5 months

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Oh my God!

I just caught up with World's Finest: Teen Titans and I absolutely have to write this out:

First of all, I love this cover:

The thing that caught my eye: “you're grounded.”

Not the dramatic “you're fired” as if the motherfucker didn't raise that damn kid in his own damn house for YEARS.

(I know. I know. Bar on the ground, but what would you?)

Also, the anger palpable on Bruce's face and Dick's absolute disregard for it. I'm laughing here y'all. This is what teenagers act like. This is what fights between parents and children look like.

Also. Dick Grayson, I've been missing. You're back from war!

I love how curt he is. The “Get lost” hits in all the right places. We love a strongly-principled character that stands for what he believes in. With all the lukewarm Dick Grayson writing floating around I felt like walking into a coffee shop while it's snowing outside.

More of this writing, please.

I'd been waiting for this moment all through this series.

This conversation.

I compare things all the time. It might not be the right thing in every field but I think it serves well when it comes to comic books. We all have personal “canon criteria”—for example, mine are “Darwyn Cooke wrote this Bruce so I'm taking it as valid characterisation ” or “Every version of Bruce played by Kevin Conroy is valid”. (Minus Bruce Timm bullshit!)

Which was what cinched my hatred for Bruce after reading a Robin short story that Cooke wrote and alluded to Robin: Year One in it. I mean, I might not fuck with Dixon, but am I going to call even Cooke's Bruce OOC? No. It means Bruce is a jerk. Full stop.

Waid is one of the writers I respect (excluding Kingdom Come. I hate it and I can't put my finger on the why. But I just do: I hate it. I hate it for Clark. I hate it for Diana. And I'm a professional Bruce-hater so let's not even go there. I hate it for Dick too.)

And Dick and Bruce's relationship has a lot of baggage from the fact that a) Bruce is himself traumatised and fails to meet Dick's emotional needs b) he wasn't ready to be a father when he adopted Dick c) Dick simply suffers from being the eldest—the test child.

And very rarely have I seen writers manage to walk on the thin line of complicated-but-dedicated-and-strong.

Young Justice cartoon did it. Dick and Bruce's relationship is going strong. But they fight and have different values. And Dick can see all that is wrong with Bruce's approach to vigilantism in particular and life in general.

Grimm (Legends of the Dark Knight #149-154) did it right. Where Bruce hurt Dick deeply and made him feel unwanted all the while overthinking about Dick's well-being. Way to go, buddy! You can see the repercussions it has for Dick while simultaneously stare at this man who's tying himself into knots trying to think how best to parent.

I think that's what most Bruce and Dick comics miss: the excessive worrying. They don't show the worry, make them fight for drama, never address it apart from throwing out a “it's because Bruce's worried” (bitch, where?) and have Dick running back to Gotham at the first chance. It sounds an awful lot like “your parents hurt you 'cause they love you” bullshit.

I think World's Finest manages it well because foremost, Bruce says, in words, that he's worried about Dick's well-being. He's taciturn, he's putting constant pressure on Dick all in the hopes of making him quit Titans. All this makes him a jerk. But I don't hate him for it.

It's between Dick's “you don't trust me” and Bruce's “no, I don't trust them.”

Most teenagers clash with their parents. It's normal. That's what Waid has shown here and I love it. It feels very—normal?

Especially when the Bats aren't normal! Bruce sure as fuck ain't a normal parent. But there was something very bitter-sweet coming-of-age in this conversation.

Bruce does all those things that are bad for Dick and his growing independence. You're not supposed to handle teenagers like that.

He's worried and taking desperate measures. “If I punish him, then maybe he'll obey me and quit Titans and then he'll he safe”—lots of parents who don't know how to deal with teenagers do it.

But the sequence of it: Bruce is worried → Bruce wants Dick to quit Titans → for Dick it means proving himself to be better, to not get hurt (as if he can control that beyond a certain point) → Bruce being alarmed at Dick's insistence to stay with the Titans and taking desperate measures like benching him.

At least it makes sense.

Compare it to Dixon's Nightwing origin story, which honestly, personally I think was lazy writing. Drama for drama's sake. “You’re fired because you're spending too much time with the Titans.” The same writer also had Bruce say that he did it because he wanted Dick to strike out on his own. Blah, blah, blah.

And no matter whatever happens he'd never ever say it to Dick's face that he's worried about him because—well, reasons.

Robin: Year One logic:

I'm worried about Dick's health so I fire him. He runs off and can get hurt? He joins a school for assasins? None of my business. He can get hurt on his own, I don't care as long as it is not on my conscience. Peace.

—Bruce “professional narcissist” Wayne.

So, yes. When faced with this book(WF: TT), I'd call Dixon's writing lazy.

I'm also comparing this to several other instances when Bruce verbally says (never to Dick, mind you) that he loves that Dick's a better person and better vigilante than him. But in the same book he'd yell at Dick for exactly the same thing. (I consider that lazy writing, since BTAS made sure to show a shot of Bruce smiling whenever Dick was happy/not like him).

I like this thing here where he says it to Dick's face. He's still grounding him for “discipline's sake” or whatever—very, very IC for Bruce.

But he also lets Dick know that he appreciates his values, that are different—better—than Bruce's own.

I can stomach that.

Honestly Bruce's writing in this book felt like BtAS writing (pre-Bruce Timm fuckery). That's a compliment.

P.S. Waid's a good story-teller overall. His Superman: Birthright was one of the first Superman comics I read and I fell in love with Clark right away.

Peace ✌️😂

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #world's finest #teen titans #robin #titans #wf: tt #world's finest: teen titans #dc #comics

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hypnostouched · 6 months

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Reread Dark Heir and I love that the trauma the characters go through actually follows through in the writing

Visander is incredibly claustrophobic after having to dig himself out of his grave and its a repeated theme when hes anxious; walls closing in, shortness of breath, darkness, returning to that box. Its such a nice touch, especially because Visander does keep getting put into claustrophobic environments; the carriage, tight clothes, the boat, small rooms... He's the perfect Champion and he is traumatised and he is still the perfect Champion. He's very human, for lack of a better word, he isn't untouchable

And Will has a so much trauma from his mother, and then from Kathrine and he links them together so much. To be hated, for those he loves to try to kill him. Choking. Being stabbed; his mother through the hand, and Kathrine's visage stabbing him as Prescott.

A lot of characters in media go through shit and while they might talk about it, the way Pacat writes out the extending effects of trauma is so good. Especially when you can just assume that all of Will thinking of his mother was just to build up to the reveal in Dark Rise, but he continues it into Dark Heir because its not just a writing trope, not just for a reveal, its part of him

(also speaking of repeated words and a reveal, im fucking feral in realising that the 'try to run, i'll always find you' was said to Sarcean by Anharion and not the other way around, even though its echoed now in reverse with James and Will fearing the Dark Kings pull over James)

#dark heir spoilers #dark rise spoilers #dark rise #dark heir #will kempen #visander

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borathae · 8 months

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↳ Index [Snippet #40 - Annoying]

"When Jungkook acts like the annoying idiot you fell in love with."

Genre: married life!AU, Fluff

Warnings: Kookie being annoying and cute <33, a summer holiday, our queen OC suffers from holiday indigestion rip to her, she describes her poop to him in vivid detail, listen!! they’re married and in love and the intimacy they share makes me weak

Wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: i had this thought that "dookie" would be actually a really cute (and annoying<3) nickname. And i think that out of all my bois, ogc!koo is the best candidate for such a nickname. So here we are, enjoy this cute lil fluff piece 🧡

Your husband is where you left him. He is lounging on the sun bed under the shadow of the straw umbrella, wearing nothing more than black swimming shorts and a pair of dark sunglasses perched atop his nose. The only jewelry he wears is his wedding ring, his piercings and a small fake shark tooth pendant on a leather string, which you both got from the street vendor in front of the hotel. He is currently on his phone, moving his foot in a mindless rhythm.

You and he went on a vacation together. Very far away from home. So far in fact, that you had to take a plane to get there. And it was the best decision ever. The beaches are beautiful, the ocean is clean and has just the right temperature and the hotel is gorgeous. Food is amazing as well, but there was one problem with that. You haven’t been able to take a shit ever since you started this holiday and this was five days ago. You can barely fit any more food inside, your stomach has been hard from everything collecting in there and you have been suffering from a strong tummy ache for two days already, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t get your body to work. Jungkook had less problems this way. This complete traitor already went to the toilet three times. Unlike you, who still hasn’t been able to go.

That is until today when the sudden urge to poop overcame you as you and Jungkook enjoyed piña coladas by the ocean. You abandoned Jungkook by the beach and ran to get back to your room.

Now, almost an hour later you are back.

Jungkook turns his head to you when he feels your presence. He lowers his phone.

“And? What’s the status?” he asks.

You lie down on the sun bed next to him, letting out a long sigh.

“I did it.”

“Yaaay, let’s go”, Jungkook cheers quietly, throwing his fists in the air in tiny motions, “no more tummy aches for you.”

“Yeah, I guess but I can’t be happy yet.”

“Why? That bad?”

“It was a warzone. You have no idea what I’ve just been through. I have PTSD just thinking about it. I had the sweats and everything, even had to take off my clothes and I kept gripping the edge of the sink and even had to put my feet up higher. I stacked like three toilet rolls for that.”

“Damn.”

“And it smelled so bad. You have no idea, I stank up the entire room so bad that I had to leave the windows open when I left.”

“Oh no, that bad?”

“Yeah, that bad. I was constipated at first until it shot outta me like a torpedo and I thought it was over until I got a tummy cramp and then I started to explosive diarrhea everywhere.”

“Ooh damn okay that sounds traumatic.”

“It was traumatic. My ass hurts and I still feel dirty even though I took a shower. With two rounds of soap. But I had to do it in like my own toxic shit fumes and I think they’re burned into my nostril hairs because I can still smell it.”

Jungkook cracks up.

“Awww baby, you’re my little stinker now”, he teases, nudging your arm playfully, “my little stinkbug.”

“No, stop, don’t call me that”, you whine, “it’s already embarrassing enough.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, my stinkbug. It’s only natural to shit.”

“I told you not to call me that”, you get out under your breath, hitting his thigh gently, “what if someone hears you?”

Jungkook snickers, “and it’s okay for you to describe your traumatising shit to me in vivid detail?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I did it quietly. I know you, you’re just gonna call me stinker for the rest of the day and that’s embarrassing.”

Jungkook snickers, “I think it’s cute. My little stinker”, he says and leans over to smooch your cheek.

“Shut up, you’re so annoying”, you mumble, nudging his chest.

“Mhm and you married me, so you love it.”

You roll your eyes at him, letting out a small chuckle.

“You’re annoying”, you say fondly and rest back on the sun bed.

“I’m happy for you though”, Jungkook says, caressing your tummy gently, “I was suffering with you. Holiday indigestions are the worst.”

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Traumatised but happy.”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh. You laugh, patting his hand.

“Hey, my stinker?” Jungkook asks then.

“Urgh, shut up. What?”

“Can you lotion up my back? I wanna go for a swim, but I’m scared to burn”, Jungkook asks as he already turns his back to you.

“Yeah, of course”, you say, sitting up so you can comfortably reach his back. You own one of those sunscreens which comes in a spray bottle. You spray it directly onto Jungkook’s back, earning yourself a loud yelp of shock from him.

“This is so cold. No. Don’t do that”, he whines, trying to writhe away which only makes you spray more cream onto his back.

“It’s what you get for calling me stinker”, you say with a shiteating grin on your lips.

“Wah, you’re so mean”, he says, making you chuckle.

You place the bottle aside and connect your hands with his back to spread the sunscreen evenly. His body is very clearly warmed up from the summer heat, his back feels hot under your palms. You are sure that a swim in the cool water will do him good.

“Make sure to get the tattoos”, he says.

“I am”, you promise him, “don’t worry.”

“Thanks, stinky.”

“Do. Not.”

You pinch his sides, making him squeak and writhe away.

“Don’t call me that.”

You tickle him again, forcing him to laugh and fight you off with his hands.

“Stinky, please.”

“Don’t call me that”, you warn as laughter escapes you and your fingers squeeze his ticklish waist even harder.

“Sorry fine sorry, I yield”, he gives up, twisting around so he is facing you, “you win, don’t tickle me”, he laughs, pushing your hands away gently.

You grin in triumph, “good.”

Then you reach for the face sunscreen, opening it.

“Good idea”, Jungkook says, closing his eyes in anticipation.

You spread an even layer of sunscreen on his face and neck, making sure to get his ears as well. The remnants of the sunscreen, you spread on his shoulders.

“Do you need it reapplied on your arms as well?” you ask him.

“No, I managed to get everything else. It was just the back I struggled with.”

“Okay, then you’re good to go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart”, he says and gets up, “do you wanna join me?”

“No thank you”, you let out in a breathy laugh, shaking your head, “I still need to recover.”

“Okay. See you later, my dookie”, he says and grins.

“Jungkook”, you gasp, gawking at him with widened eyes.

Jungkook laughs and turns to jog down to the water with snickers of mischief leaving him.

“You’re annoying!” you call after him with your eyes racing over the other people to see if somebody had heard him. It seems that nobody did. You are simply yet another couple teasing each other lovingly in a sea of strangers.

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thefirstknife · 9 months

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i unironically hope Eris stays in her Hive form at least physically bc im already loving how both her & Immaru are pointing out Ikora's (and humanity's) inherent dehumanization of the Hive.

Eris being all "If this form does not leave will you still view me as a friend?"

Immaru when asked where the Experiment Subjects come from and responding with "Don't act like you care."

Honestly, it's so good. I really love the Eris stuff and some of these questions being posed. A lot of people react negatively to Eris doing this, forgetting that Eris has already been part-Hive for a long time. She was just hiding it behind the eye cover.

Technically, nothing inherently changed about Eris; she just embraced that part of her. And that's super important for her arc I think because she's been on a journey of accepting her trauma and her losses for a very long time. We helped her face her fears and traumas in Shadowkeep and she came out of it victorious. And the story never treated it as her traumas being gone; she still has them, but she has the means to tackle them and handle them and live with them. Since we helped her, she became more open and more involved with what we do to save our home, even if it meant tackling dangerous things.

And the thing is, now that her traumas cannot be exploited by Darkness anymore, she's capable of involving herself in these things, knowing that she has friends to fall back to and a support system and better mental fortitude. We've seen it through her endurance beneath the Pyramid on Io, and her grasp of stasis, and her dealing with the Crown of Sorrow and egregore and the Lunar Pyramid nightmares. And now with her embracing her Hive self. It doesn't change anything about her, but people prefer when she hides it so they don't have to see it. And she knows it (Sororicide lore book, page 1):

It's a perfect example of how we inherently view the Hive as untrustworthy. Obviously, there are good reasons for it! The Hive have caused immense pain and trauma to pretty much everyone in the universe, Eris included. It must take an incredible strength of character to embrace the fact that you're physically half-Hive, creatures that traumatised you in the first place. No one else has dealt with anything similar so naturally they're afraid for Eris. But I believe in her strength. And so does Drifter and Drifter is never wrong:

He'd read the reports. He saw the theories on VanNet. He didn't trust them. He trusted her.

There's a cutscene that people skip and can cause people not to see it, I recommend replaying the thing on a different character or seeing it online, but it shows Eris taking off her bandage in front of us:

It's such a powerful image to me. A symbol of her taking off her mask. Not pretending to be the same as us anymore. Because she isn't! The Hive are a part of her and have been for centuries. And she's always been in control. Our mistrust has always hurt her, but before this, we could act with pity towards her. Now that she's fully in Hive form, people's perception of her changed, for really no good reason other than prejudice. She is still Eris.

I definitely think that eventually we will have to reconcile with the idea of the Hive not being inherently evil in totality as a whole group of people. Obviously this is going to be difficult, especially when their leaders act the way they do, but eventually I do believe we will have to accept some of them, even if it's only Eris for a start.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #season of the witch #season of the witch spoilers #eris #immaru #hive #ask #long post #there's just something about like. eris embracing her full self that's so incredibly powerful to me #and that the way we tolerated her before was steeped in the whole. 'as long as you're sufficiently similar to us you're fine' vibe #but she isn't. fundamentally she has been changed to her core and she kept it hidden #we could only see the light of her third eye and even that made people suspicious of her just based on her physical appearance #but beneath that bandage has always been Hive eyes #the hive killed her and the hive saved her. i can't even begin to imagine what kind of complex emotions that would bring her

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testingthewatersss · 5 months

Text

Jericho Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, flashbacks etc. Bucky Barnes x (injured) F Reader Oneshot 4430 words Angst, fluffy, fluff. 18+ MDNI

Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced. Bucky loves her. He really loves her. So what happens if she gets hurt? not for long, just for angst.

She wakes up slowly at first. Consciousness creeping in towards her like a flame flickering at the end of a very deep tunnel.

It’s memories. Jumbled and inaccurate. And then it’s voices.

It’s Tony’s voice. His laughter, echoing around her. It’s the sound of his panic, thick and hidden under the more familiar lilt of frustrated sarcasm.

And then it’s screaming.

It’s Natasha shouting urgent, desperate phrases in English and Russian.

It’s the word Sister, and Sestra- which mean the same thing.

And it’s Steve. Steve using the Captain tone he usually reserves for lectures.

And then it’s silence.

It’s silence, and an ache in her side as the reason for the darkness behind her eyes comes back to her at once.

I got stabbed, she thinks— or was I shot?

Both, maybe? Probably both, knowing my luck.

She hadn’t thought about how likely this outcome was when she’d acted, really.

She hadn’t thought of anything other than Steve.

Of the way his shield was on the ground behind them both, and the way that he was looking the wrong way, talking to Bucky-

Oh, god— Bucky.

His face, watching horrified as she’d pushed his old friend out of the way— only getting more distraught as she’d fallen.

At least she didn’t have to hear him screaming.

Her chest aches as she tunes into the distant sound of beeping.

It’s getting faster by the second.

She wonders if she’s dead. If maybe this is- well, it’s probably not hell.

Remembering the traumatised look on her lovers face is painful, but it’s not torture.

Not hell torture anyway. Though the more she dwells on the last thing she remembers seeing that wasn’t darkness she’s not certain that it’s not getting harder to bare.

Purgatory seems possible.

That would be okay. She could make her peace with purgato-

Ouch.

Okay- Okay- that’s new

A hot, sharp pain flares across her flank, making her whole body tense.

She still has a body.

That realisation makes her head spin.

And then, yeah- that’s a groan.

She’s groaning.

Not dead, then.

Wounded, though. Definitely wounded.

Her hand goes to feel the source of the pain, but no-

“Hey, No”

Back to voices then, she thinks grimly, surrendering to whatever state her body wants to be in with a sigh.

“Are you awake?”

Am I? she thinks, trying to decide on an answer.

“Y/N- Can you hear me? It’s Bruce.”

Bruce. Bruce Banner.

“You’re in medical” he says next, “You took a hit, been out a few days”

She tries to reply, knowing she should, but all she hears is a moan, barely louder than a breath.

Still, she hears a spool of elated laughter.

“Good! That’s good- I’m going to get Tony-”

and then she can’t decipher words anymore. Just steps and excited chatter.

and she wants to ask him not to go- because now she’s aware, she’s scared.

The beeping is getting faster, and faster and the pain is getting sharper and sharper and she doesn’t know what’s happening other than that she’s clearly in bad shape—

“—Hey, Hey—” she hears, “—calm down, you’ve got to stay calm”

That is so annoying.

It’s the same thing she’s said to hundreds of patients, but still, hearing it from the other side is just… annoying.

She tries to roll her eyes and realises they’re taped shut.

That only makes her panic more, because if they’re taped shut then she’s been unconscious for more than a day—

days, he did say, days

“Where is she?!”—“What’s goin’ on?!” —“Is she awake?!” “—get out of the way—”

The last voice is Tony’s.

It’s the only one she recognises instantly, and it’s the only one that actually makes her feel better.

“Hi, kid” he says, tone soft and almost relieved, “can you hear me? You’ve gotta let me know you’re okay..”

He sounds desperate. It hurts worse than her ribs.

I’m okay, she tries to say, “-‘m okay”

and then he’s laughing, loud and relieved, and she realises that at least some of that had been audible.

“Get the tape off her eyes” Tony instructs next, “up the pain relief.”

Just the knowledge that he’s there. That her brother is there taking control of the situation makes her feel better. Safer, and more able to relax.

She feels fingers on her face, gentle and cautious as they peel the adhesive strips away from her lashes.

“Keep them shut” a voice she recognises as Bruce advises, “Just for right now.”

“I know” she thinks— she says. That’s her voice. She’s speaking.

A smile tugs at her lips as she tries to wet them.

“I’m a doctor, remember?”

Yeah, it’s a little dry, but it’s her voice for sure.

And now there’s laughter, again.

So much laughter. Tony’s and Bruces, and others, mixing with the annoying medical sounds that are still going off in the background.

“Friday, dim the lights-”

I’m in tower medical, then, Y/N thinks, or Tony wouldn’t be talking to FRIDAY.

“-Alright, slowly—”

That’s Natasha.

That’s Natasha’s voice and god, she’s almost certain that’s her hand on her brow.

“—Open your eyes.”

With a poor attempt at a grimace, Y/N obeys. Blinking tiredly until her vision clears enough to make out the collection of faces surrounding her.

Tony and Natasha are the two closest. Both look hopelessly relieved. Steve is there too, off to the side with Bruce, he looks elated. They both do, actually, they’re both beaming so wide that she can’t help but try and return the expression, even though her cheeks ache.

Bucky.

He’s not there.

Her poor attempt at a grin drops instantly.

Eyes flicking around the room in frantic search-

What if he did something stupid after I went down?

“Hey” Tony cautions, reaching down to steady her head, “Hey, relax”

“Where is he?” she asks, dry voice cracking, “Bucky, is- is he okay?”

“He’s fine” Natasha replies, “He’s there, see, he hasn’t left.”

She watches the red head nod over to her right, to the side where the others aren’t gathered.

Oh.

He is there.

He’s sat on a plastic chair that looks ridiculously small compared to his frame, starring at her with wide, sore looking eyes and all she wants to comfort him.

She goes to reach out, but then she feels it.

Metal fingers curled around her palm. Warm and solid and locked in position.

“Hi” she whispers, seeing the sheer exhaustion he’s sporting, and realising he probably hasn’t even been blinking much while she’s been out— “Did ya’, miss me?”

Tony scoffs again, and she feels something cold running into her vein from the cannula he’s clearly messing with;

She doesn’t even bother to look. She trusts him completely, and besides, her gaze is set on the tears that have started to stream across Bucky’s face.

He’s still. Not even breathing in a visible way, but tears are now pouring from his eyes.

“I’m alright” she swears, “I’m okay, I promise.”

As she says that, she cringes. Something hurts.

There’s pressure on her side, and it’s painful. She grits her teeth and breathes.

“Sorry” Tony tells her, “I’m almost done.”

“What happened?” she asks, looking back at Natasha now.

“You got shot” the other woman replies, “Pushing Steve out of the way.”

“I’m so sorry-” Steve goes to say, Y/N cuts him off with a shake of her head that makes her temples throb.

“How long was I out?” she asks firmly, directing the conversation away from his misplaced remorse.

“3 days” Bruce replies, before Natasha can, “2 nights.”

“From a bullet wound?” she says, exasperated, “I’m getting old.”

Tony scoffs again, and then he’s back in her line of sight—

“It wasn’t a bullet that hit you, it was Steve they were aiming for-”

When she furrows her brow, he sighs, pawing at his goatie and frowning.

“-Remember those Super Solider ballistic plans we found in Berlin?”

Vaguely.

She vaguely remembers a USB stick full of weapon plans.

Tasers and grenades and smoke bombs full of crippling gas and -

Bullets that expand upon impact, releasing toxins into the muscle to paralyse the target while increasing the amount of blood loss—

“Oh, god” she moans, “That sucks.”

“You’re an idiot—” Natasha cuts in, just as Tony starts laughing again, relief making him almost giddy—

“I’m a hero” Y/N corrects smugly, “I”

“You could’ve died” Bucky says suddenly, in a voice that sounds totally shattered-

Ouch.

That hurts more than whatever her brother was doing to her wound.

“Hey” she exhales, turning her head back over to stare at him, “I told you, I’m alright”

“…I- I could’ve lost you” he replies weakly, like he hasn’t even heard her reply, “…You went down and I- I couldn’t-”

“-Buck” Steve cuts in, tone sympathetic but warning, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it wasn’t” Y/N agrees, hating how injured she looks, flat on her back on a hospital bed, “Is this what you’ve all been doing while I’ve been past out? Trying to decide who’s fault it was that I got shot?”

The disbelief in her tone turns almost angry by the time she’s finished her question.

“Seriously?” she says, bitter now, “It was my fault- There- I’ve answered it for you— Ow! Tony, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Sedating you” he replies calmly, “Your pulse is 210”

“Asshole”

He mutters out a ‘yep’ that sounds so cheerful she almost suppresses her groan of dismay-

Almost.

“I thought you wanted me awake” she says, angry now. “You’re going to sedate me because I’m telling you-“

“I’m sedating you because you’re going to give yourself a stroke” Tony cuts in.

She hears it then, the strain in his tone that lets her know that he’s no more happy about her returning to unconsciousness than she is.

That’s all it takes for her to stop fighting. To sag back onto the trolly with a sigh of defeat and final glance at Bucky which is half apologetic and half accusing.

Has he really been sitting by my bedside wondering if he could’ve gotten himself hurt instead? She thinks bitterly, Maybe he just wishes you could’ve changed things some how? But- how exactly?

What could he have done?

What could any of them done?

Darkness shrouds her before she can come up with any answers.

Her lack of clarity doesn’t matter, though. Because Bucky- Bucky has a list of answers.

He’s been formulating it since the second he took his place at her bedside, aching and non blinking with the image of the love of his life lying wounded on the ground.

Reminding himself of her new position, safely within the medical bay of the tower hadn’t helped much. Not with her looking the way she did.

Steve had called it ‘peaceful’.

“She looks peaceful, Buck.” He’d told him, “not like she’s in pain, she just needs to sleep it off- she took a hit”

Like he didn’t already know that she’d taken a hit.

She’d taken more than a hit.

She’d taken a super-soldier grade ballistic to the chest to save him. To save Steve. To save him from losing Steve.

‘It’s not his fault’ The ghost of Y/N’s voice had reminded him, or- or maybe it had been Natasha’s? Soft and Russian, whispering like their conversations should be a secret.

‘Don’t blame Steve, Barnes. He feels bad enough about it already’

In hindsight that was definitely Natasha.

Y/N only calls him by his last name when he’s in trouble. It’s always playful and teasing and never, ever, sandwiched by Russian.

Ms Romanoff on the other hand? She calls him Barnes more than any other name or title, and she’s always barking at him in whatever language she wants, though, somewhat expectedly, Russian is the default when they’re trying not to be overheard.

Why are they trying not be over heard now, anyway?

It’s not like it would’ve mattered if someone had heard them. Steve would be upset, he supposes, but, even that wouldn’t make a difference to his current situation.

Realising that almost makes him feel something other than the all consuming ache he’s been drowning in ever since he’d seen-

No.

Absolutely not.

Bucky is very good at not letting himself dwell on certain memories and that is one he has no intention of ever revisiting.

All he knows is that something changed the moment it happened.

Something in him changed. It’s like his DNA shifted to allow for more pain than he’d ever felt before, which is saying a lot really. Considering how much pain he’s lived through already.

All of that had been better.

He’d happily beg for another lifetime of Hydra tortures if it meant he could erase the memory of that.

But he can’t. He can’t do that. And he can’t feel anything other than the agony now it’s there. So, even when faced with the very real possibility of hurting his oldest friends feelings in a way that even he recognises as cruel, he can’t bring himself to care.

Not about anything other than Y/N, and the way her breathing is slower now.

Not much slower, but, yeah- it was rhythmic before. Quick, but stable. Now it’s… less.

Panic.

Panic makes his throat tight as he watches.

‘She’s fine’

That’s not Natasha.

That’s Steve.

There’s a brotherly hand on his shoulder and he doesn’t even make himself shrug it away. No, he just sits. Watching.

Making his list of what he could’ve done differently.

Of what they all could’ve done differently.

It’s a long list.

429 items long by the time she opens her eyes.

By the time Tony has made sure she closes them again its up to 500.

He wonders absentmindedly if he’s ever going to stop adding into it.

Maybe?

Probably not.

He knows people are talking around him. Tony and Bruce, Wanda even drops in to check on Y/N, but Bucky tunes them all out. Eventually Steve and Natasha become background noise. They blend in with the rhythmic beeping of machines and hum of the air conditioning.

‘Buck, did you hear me?’

He tilts his head a fraction, eyes not shifting from his lovers chest as a familiar voice presses for his attention.

‘I’ll go’ Natasha says calmly, clearly not expecting him to reply.

That’s fair. He wasn’t listening anyway.

‘I just thought he’d want to-‘

‘Want to what?’ He hears himself say, voice gruff and dry.

It’s sounds foreign to him now, like it’s coming from a stranger.

‘She’s going to want her own clothes’ Steve repeats, putting his palm back on his shoulder, "since she’ll be up soon, I figured you might want to go grab her something from your room’

It takes a while for his brain to process the other man’s sentence,

‘Where’s her brother?’ He asks, looking around for the other Stark, wondering why he wouldn’t have gone himself.

‘Tony crashed a couple of hours ago’ Natasha says conversationally, ‘now they know she’s out of the woods, him and Banner decided to finally try getting some rest- you might want to think about doin’ the same’

He shakes his head sternly. Eyes back on his partner.

Her chest is still rising and falling so gently that his own heart races in response.

‘She still keep her sweats in the second drawer across?’ Romanoff aks, not bothering to press the issue of him sleeping.

It takes Bucky a few seconds to answer her with a confident nod, and then she’s gone.

Steve leaves at some point too. Silently, or at least, without Barnes noticing, and then, Natasha comes back. She hands him a bundle of cream cashmere that is so soft that his metal fingers barely register the weight of it.

‘Be careful putting the top on’ Natasha advises, ‘it’s a button up, so it should be pretty easy’

He looks at her, sore eyed and confused. She cracks a laugh at his expression before crouching beside him so that she can make eye contact more easily.

‘If you swap her outfit now, she won’t have to move, if she does it herself when she wakes up, she’ll feel it’

He swallows drily, understanding. He looks over at Y/N again and feels tears spilling across his cheeks again.

Natasha shakes her head kindly, before reaching up to wipe them away with her palm. The action reminds him so much of Y/N and how she comforts him that he flinches. She stays silent, looking at him with sisterly concern.

‘This time tomorrow she’ll be telling you she’s fine’ Natasha says calmly, ‘until then, I promised her I’d always look out for you if she couldn’t, so do us both a favour and drink some water-‘ she pauses, handing him a metal flask, ‘and help her into her clothes, you’ll be gentler than me’

She pats his knee fondly before standing and leaving the room, knowing he’s more likely to follow her instruction if given space and privacy to do so.

He’s not sure when he brings the bottle to his lips, or when he puts it down, empty and light by his boots.

He doesn’t know when he makes the conscious choice to move either- to stand, peeling the covers away from Y/N so that he can remove the thin hospital gown from her body and start to replace it with the cozy offerings Natasha had brought down from the room they share.

The room he hasn’t been able to force himself to enter without her.

He disconnects her IVs with ease. Slipping her arms into the sleeves with such painfully gentle movements that she would have struggled to feel them even she had been awake. It’s only when he has to shift her hips to raise the bottoms that she seems to notice at all.

It’s only the slightest furrowing of her brow, but it makes his breath catch painfully in his throat all the same.

The thought of her hurting her is more than he can bare.

He finishes quite quickly after that, and then, he realised that he doesn’t want to return to his chair. He wants to stay right by her side, where he can feel the warmth of her breath in the air, where he can see details of her face, even when his eyes inevitably glaze over.

He drops to his knees without hesitation, resting his cheek on the pressed sheet by their tangled palms.

It’s dark.

Y/N realises as she blinks tiredly that it must be night time, now. There is a gentle glow from the monitor and the lights in the hall, but otherwise the room is shrouded in shadows.

Her eyes find the seat that Bucky had been in before, when she finds it empty, she hisses in a nervous breath, catching a glimpse of her own chest and noticing the clothes she’s wearing. Before the distraction can take too much of her attention, she hears the low breathing beside her. It’s so familiar that her pulse settles in response.

There he is.

Sleeping quietly with his face by their hands.

He looks exhausted. Even in the dark she can see the deep-set hollows beneath his eyes. She can see the sunken edges of cheeks that always appears when he skips a few to many meals.

“Your metabolism runs too quick for that, Barnes’ she reminds him in a horse whisper. “You need to eat”

That’s all it takes to startle him awake-

Her almost inaudible scolding.

“Hey” she purrs, seeing his eyes snap open, “I’m sorry, sweetheart… I didn’t mean to wake you”

She means that. He clearly needs to rest.

He’s gawking at her, horrified that she’s apologising to him.

Before he can formulate a response she swallows dryly. It looks painful and he’s instantly moving, reaching over with his flesh hand to pass her the glass of water that’s waiting on the side table.

She takes it silently, draining it before passing it back to him. He discards it quickly, and then she sighs;

“Come on, angel” she murmurs, “come snuggle up”

He blinks at her confusedly until she humours him, offering a smile as she pats the space beside her on the bed.

It’s small, a regular hospital trolly, but she moves herself over before he can object, knowing the pain the adjustment must’ve caused her-

“I’m worried about you, Buck” she says quietly, “I know I scared you, I’m sorry, but I’m okay- I promise, alright? I’m gonna be just fine”

He opens his mouth to object to her apology, but she shakes her head to silence him before he finds the words,

“I missed you” she adds gently, “I’m tired, baby- You must be too”

When he sees the way she’s looking at him, he finds himself nodding in agreement.

“Yeah” she says encouragingly, “yeah I thought so, come on, come up here” again, before he can object, she adds, “You’re not going to hurt me, Tony’s got me on so much morphine I can’t feel anything, and we both know I’m not going to back to sleep with you down there…”

It’s Bucky’s turn to sigh then. He knows when he’s beaten, and even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he really does want to just hold her.

Despite her assurances, he’s so afraid of harming her that he barely lets himself touch her, leaving half of his body over the edge of the bed as he puts his head mechanically on the pillow. He’s on his side to face her, and when he sees her laughing silently, shaking her head fondly he feels himself crying again. The tears burn his eyes, stinging sorely before spilling across his cheeks,

“C’mere…” she purrs, adjusting herself and trying her best to tuck him into her front, “don’t cry, sweet boy… I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere….”

“I’m so sorry” is all he manages to say as he surrenders, sniffing lamely as he curls into her embrace, “It’s all my fault- I nearly got you killed-”

“Hey” she cuts in, reaching down to cup his jaw, “it wasn’t even you I took the hit for”

He shakes his head stubbornly,

“I was watching Steve” he reminds her quietly, “I had his six, that way my position-”

“Yeah, during the job” she counters dryly, “we were done, Buck… nobody was holding their positions or I’d have been with Natasha, not Steve”

He goes to shake his head again, but her hand on his face stops him,

“James” she says seriously, “I knew what I was doing- I thought it was a bullet, but still- the only people to blame are me and the bastard that shot me, I’m guessing there’s no point asking how he is?”

“No” Bucky admits quietly,

“Did Natasha get him?” She wonders,

“Tony” he corrects gently, ashamed that it hadn’t been him.

She beams at his response though, and then he feels her fingers in his hair and has to bite back the desperate whine it draws from him.

“Did she take good care of you for me?”

He feels his cheeks burn pink,

“She tried” he confesses, “I-”

“Haven’t been very cooperative?” She guesses softly,

He nods, biting his lip to stop himself from sobbing.

“That’s okay” she purrs, leaning in to press a kiss against his brow, “I’m not always good at that either”

The skin is hot against her lips, she nuzzles into him, knowing how desperate he is for the contact. It feels nice for her too, having him so warm and close beside her-

“Let’s call a Jericho” she suggests next, knowing that considering their situation, that should’ve been the first thing out of her mouth.

He blinks at her, stunned.

A Jericho was something they came up with when they first got away from Hydra. When the idea of working with SHIELD was first broached with the young Stark, when Bucky had panicked and gushed about his fears about not being able to handle being in the field, despite his overwhelming desire to help out.

No matter what was going on, no matter who was asking either of them to do anything. If either of them ever wanted to pull out, for any reason, they’d call a Jericho, and they’d both know that until further notice, fighting was out of the question. They’d gone over the details with Tony, knowing that he’d be the one dealing with any disappointed council members should the two former winter soldiers decide to take a leave of absence.

He’d only ever called one, when he’d had a flash back so terrible on route to the job that he’d whispered the word frantic and in Russian to his partner, while they’d been sat together on the Quinn jet. She hadn’t said anything to him, just nodded once and whispered something to her brother. All Bucky remembers happening after that, was the hanger emptying around them, and Y/N turning the craft around, flying them both straight back to the tower. Nobody had ever questioned them, and he’d never had to explain.

Even now, he thinks she’s probably calling it on his behalf. Despite the nagging guilt that thought breeds, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of relief.

‘Yeah’ she nods encouragingly, ‘yeah, baby… Jericho, huh? I’ll let you fuss over me for a while… just promise me one thing”

He’s exhausted he realises. 3 days without sleep had finally caught up with him, he can’t even make himself reply.

Anything, he thinks tragically, I’ll do anything, I swear-

“Stop blaming yourself” she requests gently, knowing he can’t really help it, “don’t blame Steve, don’t blame anybody, okay? If I thought any of you could’ve done something to stop it, I’d have told you…”

Hes crying again. He can feel it. And then, before he can lock his jaw to stop it, a sob jumps up from his throat.

“Barnes” she whispers again, “it wasn’t your fault, don’t beat yourself up because I got brave, you held your position, you did so good in there—”

“I- I- didn’t keep you safe” he argues wetly, words cracking in his throat,

“Sweet, sweet, solider” she says adoringly, “of course you did, even while I was passed out you kept watch”

I did, he thinks urgently, I kept watch- just like he’d done back then, when the medical staff were far from caring, where watching from wherever they could was the only way they could protect the other from further harm-

She nods in agreement, even though he hadn’t spoken.

“You did great” she murmurs gently, “now, you need to rest up, okay- rest up with me”

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