#maybe I could have run around for security or something idfk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yawneon · 4 months

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ameliorate

a/n : i’ve never publicly posted a fic/drabble here before so i’m nervous about this and i’m knew to fandom writing so bare with me.. (thanks if u read this, love u lots (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b )

pairing : luke castellan x apollo kid!reader

summary : you were there when thalia got turned into the pine tree. you were a healer, why couldn’t you have healed her?

!!! : angst, luke comforts reader, gn!reader, reader has a lot of emotional turmoil, a lot of self-loathe, reader blames themselves, i tried my best okay (｡•́︿•̀｡), you can read this to be platonic or romantic idfk, pre-percy

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a healer, that was your job.

ever since you took a step into the camp, you were given a role and that role is what you were going to do. heal and protect others, that is your purpose.

it was going to be easy. how hard could it be? heal some cuts here and there, maybe a sprained ankle when luke went too rough on another camper.

that’s what you thought it was gonna be. that’s what it was meant to be.

the events of that day still run circles in your mind. you should’ve done more, you could have. it was hard for everyone of course it was. grover failed at his job, luke and annabeth lost their sister. it was selfish thinking like this wasn’t it? to feel like you were the one taking it the hardest.

a sigh comes out shakily from your throat as you stand infront of thalia. your hand drags along the rough wooden exterior that once used to be her skin. trailing down you feel the gritty moss beneath your touch and you remember her soft hair, her laugh, her eyes. it was self torture thinking like this. you knew that.

but you were a healer.

why couldn’t you heal her back to normal? people at camp- no even chiron said that your powers are some of the best he’s ever seen so why the fuck can you not heal her back to normal? why in that moment you couldn’t have had some instinct to heal her? what was wrong with you? you had every chance to save thalia,

why did you not take it?

before you realise it tears stream down your face and your knelt infront of the solid lumber which was once your friend, your sister. on both knees you cry into your hands. thalia was gone and you failed your whole purpose.

you heal people.

you lost count of how long it was since you came to see thalia. had it been 20 minutes? maybe an hour? you didn’t know. you stood yourself up now, tears still silently rolling down your cheeks. you were stuck in your head for what felt like weeks, years almost. you came to do this often, to see thalia. to try and erase the guilt that built in your stomach and plagued your mind every living moment of every living day.

you were sick and you were tired, exhausted if you must. you wished she would wake up, gods you wished you would wake up and this would all be some batshit hallucination. but alas, the gods don’t respond to such calls.

you feel a breeze hit you, it wasn’t cold but you still shivered at the feeling. you close your eyes hoping for something to happen. you wait,

one second,

then two,

then th- are those arms around your waist right now?

“shit!” you jump, feeling two strong arms curl around your waist. turning around your met with the goofy smile of luke castellan. “sorry, sunshine.” he laughs softly, quickly you raise your hands to your face wiping your eyes and he tuts his tongue at you. “why are you hiding away from me?” luke pouts at you, one arm secured around your middle while his other hand reaches to your face cupping your cheek.

“what are you doing out here?” you say clearing your throat to stable your voice. “i’m here to make sure your not in your head.” he grabs the top of your head and shakes it about and you swat away his hands with a soft “quit it.”

“i was just about to head back in” you say, let me rephrase that. you- “your lying.” he says and quite literally takes the words out of my mouth.

“we all wish we could’ve saved her, sunshine.” luke coos, standing next to you now. his hand now securely on your shoulder pulling you close to comfort you. it was ironic calling you sunshine honestly. yeah your dad was apollo, greek god of sun and light, but your light was dimmer compared to your bright and bouncy siblings. a rough sigh escapes your throat and you hang your head low, “i could’ve done more. i should have luke you don’t get it.” you murmured.

luke looks at you worriedly, his hand rubbing your shoulder warmly. “we all wish that, sunny.” another contridictive nickname. “i know what is going on in that brain of yours you know.” luke’s the one that sighed now. “you know your abilities a lot more deeply now, you were a kid back then. we all were, you can’t keep blaming yourself for things that a kid who was barely a teenager could have never done.” luke emphasised, his eyes drawing from thalia to look at you.

“she isn’t even dead, sunshine.” luke smiles solemnly at you, his lips forming a tight line before the corners of it rise. “she’s right here.” his hand touches the bark of the tree. “right here with all of us.”

luke’s hands draw to both of your shoulders and he turns your body so both of you are face to face. “no matter how strong someone is, you can’t save everyone.” he nods sadly, “i know you wish you could, but you can’t.” he bites his inner cheek to stop his own tears from pooling out. “sun-“ before he could finish that sentence your arms were around him, embracing him softly. no words had to be spoken for luke to just hug you back. soft sobs escaping your throat as you cry into his warm body.

you two stood there for a while but that didn’t matter to him, he was your friend and he was your pillar in this time of need. no matter how wet his tshirt was right now, it didn’t matter. luke would rather stand there and hug you for a century, for a millenia, for fucking ever if that meant that you were gonna be okay. he’ll be there right by your side through everything. you’ll heal every one of his cuts and he’ll fight the ares kid that makes fun of you during capture the flag and then you’ll bake him blue cupcakes as a thank you.

you were a healer.

and despite not being able to save your sister, thalia. you vow to never let anyone else go through that. you were a healer and you will heal others and yourself for her.

f/n

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#percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #angst #fluff #comfort #sunshine #apollo #luke castellan isn’t evil here #post-thalia

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rotshop · 2 years

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*hops into ur ask box* HELLO WHATS UP HOWS IT GOIN <<<<3333

okayokayokay so this is gonna sound maybe kinda odd but. reader who was a former experiment, escaped, and is now living with the trio. theyve got a bunch of scars on their back from it that they’re super insecure about.

flash forward to a quiet moment of intimacy with their now s/o, Sanford, reader shows them to him and lets him as questions and shit ifsitditf idfk kind of just something bouncing in my head

does 5 cartwheels . anon u have my brand of shit EXACTLY ,, SORRY the 2nd part isn't a super big portion of this i got distracted </3 also if the formatting is Fucked ummm . no it isn't. hope this helps !

[ tw for past abuse / violence towards listener ]

-You'd been a more experimental project by the nexus core. They weren't entirely sure of a set goal for you, more-so that you were a stepping stone to other projects that would inevitably be created and have their own, more set in stone plans. By all means, you were little more than a test run to the scientists around you.

-As such, that allowed for a little more 'leniance' when it came to interacting with you. With MAGs, it would be a pain to re-make and re-train them if they pushed them too hard, they were made with set roles and expectations. Engineers were required to have knowledge on, well, engineering, meaning they had to live to hold onto that knowledge. You were just a means to an end- learning how different techniques and methods of experimentation and changes could affect the average grunt and be further implemented. They could always swap you out with a different grunt at any given point if they needed to. Safe to say, it lead to less than hospitable treatment.

-You were more than happy to be free from the facilities- whether they decided to let you run free (for reasons you aren't quite sure) or they simply failed at properly securing the place didn't matter. What did matter, however, was that you were out of there. You were out of there and needed to find somewhere else to hunker down, even if just for a time. Sure, abandoned buildings provided coverage, but it would be difficult to survive entirely seperated from everyone else (as tempting as it sounded). You couldn't just hope and pray on stumbling across everything you'd need to live on short, anxious journeys through empty streets and old offices.

-It didn't take long for you to catch people's eyes: at first, soley because of your more monstrous features. The teeth, the claws, the agility- they all seemed to be the markings of something exceedingly talented at killing. Luckily for you, there was still a good market for killing. Quickly, you'd find yourself living off earnings from different odd-jobs, all calling for your skills in the field of wrecking house. It was pleasant enough, gore and mess aside, people didn't bother asking too many questions about you and you could earn from something relatively effortless. (Hell you went through aside, you were at least glad you'd been gifted the ability to tear most to shreds, even if it was a logistically grim point.)

-Over time, you'd picked up bigger jobs as you caught the eyes of people higher up in the metaphorical food chain. Eventually, you'd landed a few contracts with one 2bdamned. A few turned into a handful, a handful into plenty, and at a certain point you'd just become a part of the S.Q. (Granted, you'd been considered one honorarily long before that point.)

-It'd been an odd adjustment. Sure, you'd long since realized the necessity of socializing with others if only to survive, but interactions for jobs and people getting curious about you were far different. It was very quickly noticed by many just how skittish and antisocial you could be- small-talk was stilted and pressured, you'd lean and step away from people who got close, and you'd make quick to leave a room once anyone else was present. It was an oddity to many, seeing as how you'd been appointed by the head of the organization themself, it was strange to see the killing-machine they'd come to expect was so anxiously reclusive. It didn't take long for it to become a known fact among the majority of people that you weren't exactly sociable.

-Of course, though, this didn't stop everyone from interacting with you.

You'd just been trying to clean one of your weapons off after a mission when it'd happened. It wasn't anything intense really, you just didn't like when blood dried and crusted against the guard and your claws weren't exactly ideal for scraping it off. You hadn't heard either of them coming, jolting harder than you really should've (or expected was possible) when someone had unexpectedly put a hand on your shoulder to lean over you.

"Man, you really did some damage out there huh? I'd heard you were good, but I wasn't expecting that!" Despite the praise, you couldn't help instinctively pulling away, turning to face your new company. You could see the bit of confusion from your actions in the furrowed brows of one of the figures, the one you assumed had just been talking to you.

"Oh, thanks," you'd quickly replied, hoping your tone had been able to come across as appreciative enough.

You could tell it wasn't exactly the response they'd been expecting, but seemed to recover quickly enough with a little grin. "Ah, it's nothin'. I don't think we've ever talked before, name's Deimos," he'd jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the other figure, "That's Sanford." After making clear what you could've guessed yourself, he'd stuck his hand out to you, "And yours?"

You'd paused for a moment or two, staring at his hand for longer than what was probably deemed casual and smooth. You'd debated with yourself internally. Did you really wanna try and get to know this guy? Nothing against him, of course, but was it really worth the possible trouble? Being around people and talking with them wasn't exactly your strong suit, nor was it exactly comforting given you'd rarely done it in the past .. what? couple of years? Sure, you talked to others, but it was purely business. You couldn't ever remember a time you'd talked without it being needed of you in the experiments- it wouldn't have done anything anyways. It'd been a long time since you'd really just talked with anyone without any real purpose, hadn't it?

You could tell he was about to pull away if the awkward look was anything to go by, you really didn't have any longer to think about this. Throwing caution to the wind you'd grabbed his hand (a little harsher than you'd meant to, if the little stumble he'd done before regaining balance was any indication), shaking it in what you hoped was a professional way before you'd spoken again, introducing yourself properly.

-It was definitely less than suave, and perhaps the sheer fact of how off it had been was the thing to catch Sanford's eye. All he really knows is the whole ordeal (and yourself) had been on his mind long after Deimos had made some offhanded comment about it (one he was only able to give an absent minded hum in response to).

-Whether by luck or some subconscious decision, he'd found himself showing up around you far more often. It was simple at first, he'd just quickly check on you, maybe ask one or two questions before leaving you alone. It was obvious from the first few reactions he'd gotten you weren't exactly accustomed to company, something that'd only furthered his curiousity about you. Slowly, he'd started hanging around a tad longer, sitting down close by either in (what he hoped was) a comfortable silence or with some small talk (usually it was him telling you about himself, in hopes it'd make you warm up to returning the favor a little more).

-Eventually, you'd talk a little more often yourself. You wouldn't go too into depth about where you'd come from or your past, trailing off awkwardly and making vague statements about it all before sweeping it away. He didn't mind it, making it clear he wasn't trying to push.

You'd been talking with him once, a topic reminding you of something that someone had said to you in the past that reminded you of something that happened during a test. You'd gotten noticeably fidgety, shifting and stuttering as you'd continued. The descriptions got more vague, interspersed with odd glances in his direction looking for some sign that he understood what you were staying. It was obvious you were uncomfortable.

Before you could keep going, he'd cut you off. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I don't mind one bit, alright? It's your business, it doesn't have to be mine to know unless you want it to be." You'd paused, taking his words in for a moment. While he could appreciate that you were taking them to heart, he couldn't help the bit of sadness that tugged at his heart at the thought you were only doing that because you hadn't heard that in some time. You'd eventually spoken up again, seemingly content with the conclusion you'd come to, "Didn't you mention something about your family earlier?"

-It'd become more and more common to see him hanging around you- if he wasn't with Deimos, he was with you. Even then, he'd made attempts to have the two of you interact a little bit more comfortably than your first. It was slow, but with some open-mindedness on your part and Deimos' more relaxed demanor you'd become more comfortable around him as well.

-Well, Deimos' demeanor and the fact that he'd heard plenty about yoy from his friend already to have a good understanding of your deal. It was hard to not be at least a little lax with someone who your closest friend seems to talk about a whole awful lot. At first, he'd went along with it, just nodding and listening him go on about you. Then he'd start giving little suspicious glances his way whenever he'd bring up something specific to you- like the way you'd laughed at some story he told you or something you'd offhandedly mentioned once. Then it turned into a knowing grin whenever he'd trail off and go into his own thoughts, staring into space with a little smile on his lips. (Do expect him to annoy you more because of this, it's just his own way of friendship.)

-Eventually at one point or another it hits him over the head that 'oh yeah this definitely isn't strictly platonic is it.' Romantic relationships are obviously something he takes pretty seriously, so do expect him to be a little lost in thought throughout a few of your guys' interactions. It's nothing bad, of course. He's just trying to think about how to tell you or if he even really should in the first place. You're sweet and he's just glad you have at least one person to talk to comfortably, the last thing he wants to do is to complicate things or take that comfort away from you.

-At some point, he just kind of. not blurts it out but. its definitely not what you were expecting. It's during one of your guys' little hang outs where you're laughing at something he said and he's just . gotta say something or he'll explode . It's a little rambly and he repeats himself a few times but all in all it's a good confession . Even if a little bit unexpected on both your parts. He's only able to take a proper breath when you smile a little and say you feel the same.

-anyway. he definitely isn't expecting you to tell him much more about your background. Sure, he'll definitely listen if you want to tell him, but he won't exactly bring it up with the intent of trying to get you to. Needless to say, he's not very happy if you do. Not of your doing, of course, moreso directed towards the situation you were in and the people who put you there. He's not the greatest in the world at offering words of support, but he hopes that he's able to make it even a little easier by listening to you talk about it.

-if you ever mention anything about not liking your back being touched because of it all, he's making sure to ask before he does anything even close to that. He's careful of where he puts his hands on you and he prides himself on being able to read you well enough to know if you're alright with it or not (though, do expect him to still ask aplenty, he likes being 100% sure).

-If its less of a 'bad reminder' deal and more just insecurity, he acts a little differently about it. He'll still ask of course but do expect the occasonal kiss on the shoulder blade or a hand tracing lines and circles over your spine. Also expect him to point out some of his own to tell you about them. He won't push you beyond your comfort and/or well-being of course, but it's important to him that you don't feel scared or self-conscious when you're with him. It's part of the reason why he's careful with his words and actions whenever you do decide to show your scars to him.

-He's careful with the ones that he'll near, pointedly avoiding any scars that look especially gruesome or deep just in case they're an especially sensitive point. He'll ask you about some of the ones that look more inconspicuous and unrelated, hoping that they're at least somewhat more of a good memory of yours (ex. some scar from some random little accident when you were a kid that isn't really hard to look back on and is more silly and dumb than anything else). He much prefers the way you're able to laugh and ease up a bit whenever you recall the tales behind those ones to the anxiety revolving around the others.

-In all honesty, he really won't ask too many questions. He'd much rather avoid you having to relive any of your memories of a worse time in any way. He knows he doesn't really like recalling a good lot of his time in the agency, he can't imagine how he'd respond to any questions revolving around daily torment like yours. Even if you reassure him you don't mind he's still incredibly hesitant and doesn't pry much more than he normally would. He puts a little more effort into making sure you're all good than digging much.

-Speaking of which, if you get shy or anxious at all while he's looking them over, he's gonna do something about it. Uncomfortable because you're thinking about some of what happened a little too much? He'll offer to distract you, listen to you talk about it, or whatever else would help you out the most. Getting antsy over your scars?? Again, he's going to try and help curb that bit of insecurity. While obviously it isn't an easy process, he's definitely going to put the effort in either which way- it's important that you feel content with yourself with him.

-All in all ; do expect a lot of reassurance from him. he cares a whole hell of a lot that you feel comfortable and safe and he hopes that he's able to provide that in whatever way that he can. epitome of 'thats my partner' when it comes to you .

#sorryyyy i just love fucked up guys </3 #trying dividers again just bc i think they make things look a little nicer even if they'll get outdated .#i cant tell if i dragged things out or if i rushed them . um . woops <3 #SORRY if this isn't great im just sillay ...................#rot writes #sanford x reader #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader

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whumpzone · 4 years

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 9

hope you guys enjoy as always! I think it’ll be immediately obvious which part I mean, but I definitely only wrote one scene because it gave me such a pleasing mental image. And I’m definitely gonna have to draw something for it when I have the time :>

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze (ask if you want to be tagged/removed! <3)

CW: pet whumpee, violence, descriptions of gore, hospitals

It had been several days since the explosive night with Adam. Rowe remembered it all vividly, and for reasons he could not understand he kept returning to the middle of the night, when Master Tomas fell asleep next to him.

Perhaps it was because he had never seen his Master asleep before. It was quite a rarity, as far as Rowe understood, for any Pet to see their owner so vulnerable. Was it another test? Or a display of trust? Master had fallen asleep while holding Rowe, and it felt too odd to be cradled by someone unconscious, so he had gently, gently, laid him on the floor. To even be touching his Master in such a way was unbelievably disobedient, and it made his extremities tingle with nerves. He was terrified that Master would wake up, dazed and disoriented, and beat Rowe for it, but the fear felt strangely- buried? Hazy? It was there, but it didn’t make him lock up like it sometimes did. He still managed to pick himself off the floor and fetch a cushion for Master’s head.

Rowe couldn’t sleep- he had known he wouldn’t sleep ever since Master had threatened to punish him, but he definitely couldn’t risk having a nightmare and waking his owner. Rowe didn’t quite understand what a hangover was, but he knew that it made people want to beat their useless Pets with more severity than usual.

It had taken him several agonising hours before he decided to clean up the mess of bottles. What if Master needs them? He said he would cut me, didn’t he?

But then he would remember that Master Tomas had decided not to punish him, for reasons Rowe didn’t understand. He figured he had better be a good Pet and clean up, and if Master wanted to hurt him in the morning there were plenty of other sharp objects around.

Master hadn’t stirred until around 11am, and when he did Rowe quickly folded onto his knees, calm and obedient, by his Master’s side but not too close, ready to greet him.

. . .

Tomas hardly remembered the night with Adam, and he was okay with that. What he did remember was peeling himself off the living room floor the next morning, stiff all over with a pounding head and a stomach like a choppy sea. He bit back a groan as he turned his neck to look around.

And then he’d seen Rowe, kneeling quietly, his eyes hovering somewhere near Tomas’s face. With his bruised nose, grazed wrists, burnt and battered limbs. Tomas’s hangover suddenly didn’t feel so bad. He gave Rowe a weak smile and Rowe bowed his head to the floor for a few seconds.

‘’Good morning, Master.’’

‘’Morning, pal. Did you give me this cushion?’’

‘’Y-yes, Master,’’ Rowe said, going stiff, like he expected to be berated for it.

‘’Thank you. That was good of you.’’

In the days after, Tomas noticed that Rowe was acting distant, but that hardly surprised him. He had given Rowe quite a scare. If being quiet, meek and staying out of Tomas’s way was Rowe’s way of feeling a bit more secure, then Tomas decided he had to step back and let him.

One morning Tomas was boiling the kettle, snapping his fingers to whatever tune was on the radio.

‘’Master?’’

Tomas turned quickly and- looked down. Rowe was knelt at his feet, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

‘’Oh! Everything okay, Rowe?’’

‘’Did you need me for something, Master?’’

Tomas frowned. What did he…

‘’Oh! Because I was snapping my fingers, yes?’’

‘’Yes, M-Master…’’

Tomas felt quite proud of himself for figuring that out. He put one hand on the kitchen counter, fingers splayed, and crouched to rub Rowe’s shoulder.

‘’I was doing it because I liked the song on the radio,’’ Tomas told him gently. ‘’With me, snapping fingers doesn’t mean you have to come, okay?’’

‘’Okay, Master. I understand.’’

‘’Good! That actually reminds me. I have a new rule for you.’’

Rowe’s eyes widened momentarily and before Tomas could decide if it was excitement or apprehension, Rowe caught his misstep and went back to his conditioned blankness. Getting Rowe up off his knees, Tomas continued making tea, making sure to keep everything very casual.

‘’From now on, you aren’t to touch the knives, or any sharp objects, without my express permission and supervision, okay? I know it wasn’t your fault, but that little cut you gave me showed you probably aren’t ready to handle knives yet, and that’s alright. I can do the chopping from now on.’’

‘’Yes, Master,’’ said Rowe quietly. Every time Tomas brought that incident up Rowe looked like he wanted to hide himself away. Tomas gave him a pat on the back of his head and- although he flinched at first- that seemed to help. Turning back to the tea, his face fell as he opened the fridge.

‘’That’s the last of the milk, then,’’ he said, pouring it into the mugs. ‘’I… I really have to go shopping.’’

He’d put it off for as long as he could, but the kitchen was starting to look pretty sad. Rowe gazed up at him with eyes full of worry. Don’t leave me alone. Tomas could have burst with pity, but he steeled himself. This was a chore he couldn’t avoid. The pair drank their tea in silence; Tomas at the table, Rowe dusting the bookshelves in the living room. The radio continued to play.

. . .

Master Tomas left, promising he wouldn’t be long, but it all sounded muffled to Rowe. Everything had gone fuzzy after Master had told him don’t worry, you won’t be alone. I’ll ask if Kasia wouldn’t mind popping over. It all felt like a cruel joke.

Rowe wanted to tell him so badly, to beg and beg and beg that he was telling the truth, but the endless possible outcomes overwhelmed him into silence.

Master wouldn’t care- it was keeping him scared, and submissive, after all.

Master wouldn’t believe him, and ask Kasia instead.

Master wouldn’t believe him, and throw him out.

Master would be horrified that Rowe let another man handle his property without his knowledge, and decide that he didn’t need a deceiving Pet like him.

Master would be pleased, and ask Kasia to help him correct his miserable Pet more.

Master would smack him so hard he hit the floor, and grip his face with all his strength and ask him just who he thought he was, crying about a few beatings, and then he would reconsider whether Rowe really deserved food, and a bed, and he definitely wouldn’t let him speak, in fact, he’d get one of those awful muzzles where the bit cuts into your mouth and he’d strap it onto Rowe’s face until he learnt his place as Master’s property-

And maybe Rowe could handle the hellish meetings with Kasia if it meant he stayed good, and afraid, and in Master’s favour. So when he heard the unmistakable heavy footsteps of Kasia coming up the stairs towards his room, he let himself go limp and pliable. Even when Kasia pushed open the door with a face like thunder. Even when he kept something hidden behind his back as he walked towards Rowe.

‘’Oh- oh, god, it hurts! Please, please!’’ Rowe cried, his face shiny with sweat. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and Kasia grabbed a fistful of it to pull Rowe’s face towards his. He stared hard into the whites of Rowe’s eyes.

‘’Bad Pets get muzzled, you know,’’ he warned, and Rowe forced himself to be guttural, to only moan and gasp in pain. He was allowed that, at least. His hands twitched above him, tightly bound to one of the end bedposts. His chest trembled with sobs. But he didn’t speak, and Kasia grunted, returning to his work.

Rowe’s legs were a mess. His skin was barely visible under the blood that rolled down in drops and soaked into the cream carpet. The hammer came down with a swish and a sickening thud. More blood was flecked onto Kasia’s shirt with every circle he battered into Rowe’s flesh.

Each time Kasia bludgeoned him, Rowe would spasm in pain, the thrashing of his legs doing nothing but making the injuries worse. He was scared to look down- his legs, his pretty legs that he needed to kneel on and attend his Master with, they were ruined. What- what was the point of this? This wouldn’t make him better. Rowe’s head slumped back against his shoulder blades, pulling his bruised neck taut. He’s just doing this for fun, isn’t he.

All thoughts were pushed from his head with the next awful, wet crunch of the hammer. Thud thud THUD, faster and faster, and this wasn’t methodical, this wasn’t like his training, this was like when Rowe had smashed his old master’s favourite bowl and he was beaten until old master had spent all of his rage and hatred and made Rowe scream.

Sure enough, Rowe was screaming now, and he was good at just screaming, he knew when begging would get him somewhere and when it wouldn’t. He was beyond proving his obedience. Kasia just wanted a living doll to torment. Rowe risked a glance at his legs- and then his screams were broken up with heavy, wet cries.

When the pain finally let him rest, finally pulled him into a thick sleep, Rowe was so, so grateful. As the gory scene blurred before him, all he could think about was the feeling of the bedframe against his back. I’m with my old master. He’s letting me sleep at the foot of his bed. I must have been good. I’m so happy…

. . .

Tomas clenched his teeth as he hurried up the street to his door.

[Work called, I had to run. Left him in his room, he seemed fine.]

[What???]

Fuck’s sake, why now, why now? He had needed Kasia to keep an eye on him, he needed him! The house was silent as he pushed open the door and set the bags down heavily, running up the stairs.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened Rowe’s bedroom door. Tomas gasped, inhaling sharply, and then he couldn’t breathe. Rowe was lying on the floor, passed out, his wrists tucked together under his chin and his shirt thrown carelessly in a corner. Oh fuck. Everything below the knees was a mess of gore, there was blood everywhere, holy fucking shit, and a god damn hammer lying nearby. His calves were so battered Tomas could hardly look.

‘’Oh god, oh god, oh god! Rowe, Rowe, oh Rowe, my Rowe, oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck fuck fuck!’’ Tomas panicked. Rowe didn’t stir and Tomas thought he might pass out as well. ‘’What the fuck did you do?’’ he cried, ‘’Rowe, wake up, what the fuck did you do?’’

Tomas’s knees buckled and he collapsed in the doorway, fumbling for his phone with trembling fingers. After a few seconds he managed to steady himself enough to dial 999.

‘’Ambulance service, is that patient breathing?’’

‘’Ah,’’ Tomas choked out. He was barely breathing himself. He forced himself to crawl over to Rowe and check his pulse.

‘’Hello?’’ drawled the operator.

‘’Yes, yes, he’s breathing, fuck-‘’

‘’Describe exactly what’s happened for me.’’

‘’I just got home, and I, he, oh my god!’’ Tomas started to cry desperately. ‘’I just got home and he’s upstairs and there’s blood everywhere-‘’ his voice cracked ‘’-and his legs are all smashed up wi-with a hammer and please, you have to help, you have to send someone!’’

‘’Stay calm for me sir, who is it that’s had this injury? How old are they?’’

‘’It’s- my Pet, I don’t know his age.’’

‘’A Pet?’’ the operator asked, in the same collected, monotone voice. ‘’Sir, we can’t waste ambulances on Pets, you’ll have to bring them in yourself if you want medical help, okay?’’

‘’What- but wait, it’s bad-‘’

Click. They’d hung up.

‘’Fuck!’’ he breathed, his phone almost slipping from his hand. ‘’Fuck, Rowe, Rowe, wake up! Wake up!’’

He didn’t mean to hurt him, but he needed Rowe to respond, and before he knew it he had smacked him across the cheek. It only made Tomas cry harder, but sure enough, Rowe stirred.

‘’Rowe,’’ Tomas gasped. ‘’Rowe, Rowe, oh my god, what the fuck did you do?’’

He didn’t answer, but he did moan in pain. Tomas lifted Rowe’s face up, but his eyes were rolling back into his skull. He had lost so much blood.

‘’I’ve got to get you to the hospital.’’

Rowe’s mouth opened a tiny amount, and Tomas bent close.

‘’C…c-collar…’’

‘’I… fuck, yes, Pets have to wear a collar outside, okay, okay, I’ll get one. It’s gonna be okay, Rowe.’’

Luckily, Tomas had never got around to throwing out the collar he’d bought for the animal he’d been expecting. It was made for a dog, and slipped around Rowe’s tiny neck just fine.

‘’Can you breathe?’’

Rowe twitched his head in a nod, but his eyes had fluttered closed once more. Tomas stumbled into the bathroom and took two towels. As he lifted Rowe’s left leg to slip one underneath, he screamed in agony. Tomas cringed, trying to stop crying.

‘’Please, please Master,’’ Rowe whimpered, and Tomas just wished he was dreaming. This was too horrifying, he must be dreaming, surely.

‘’I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’’ he sobbed, pressing a hand now wet with Rowe’s blood into his hair, doing his best to stroke him with his trembling fingers. ‘’They’ll stop the pain soon, I promise.’’

As soon as he’d slipped Rowe’s legs into the towels, Tomas wiped his eyes on his sleeve, hauled his broken Pet into his arms and carried him downstairs.

‘’I don’t- have a car,’’ Tomas explained as he gripped Rowe with one arm to lock the door behind him, ‘’but you’re so small, I think you’ll just about fit. I’m sorry, this is so fucking stupid, I’m sorry. But I’ll get us there quickly. Quicker than a taxi.’’

Rowe didn’t struggle as Tomas lowered him into the basket attached to the front of his bicycle. His wrapped legs dangled freely, and his arms wrapped around his waist like a hug. Tomas slung himself into the saddle and pushed off down the hill.

‘’Do you- treat Pets, here?’’ Tomas asked the receptionist timidly. Looking around, he didn’t see any other Pets. The receptionist barely even glanced up, even though Rowe was gently dripping blood onto the linoleum floor.

‘’Try the other reception. Down the hall, you’ll see the sign. We have a separate ward for Pets.’’

The second receptionist was far more friendly, scarily so.

‘’Hello there, sir, what’s the issue?’’

‘’My Pet- his legs are definitely broken, and he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s unresponsive.’’

‘’Okay,’’ she said as she typed something into her computer. ‘’And what’s your name, please, sir?’’

‘’Tomas Grzegorzewski.’’

A few more questions and then Rowe was lowered into a worn wheelchair and taken away. Tomas watched him leave with a heavy weight in his stomach.

He couldn’t sit still, he still had Rowe’s blood on his sleeves and if he had to just sit and think about what had happened he knew he was going to have a breakdown right there. So instead he marched outside, charmed a cigarette off one of the smokers outside, and called Kasia.

‘’You all good, mate?’’ Kasia said coolly.

‘’I am not fucking-! I am not all good,’’ Tomas hissed, remembering to keep his voice down.

‘’Did something happen? Look, I’m sorry I had to leave.’’

‘’He fucking- oh my god, I might throw up if I even describe it. He took a hammer to his own fucking legs.’’

‘’Oh, shit,’’ Kasia said. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. Tomas supposed it was his line of work. ‘’Why’d he do that?’’

‘’Kas, I asked you over for a reason! I don’t know, he goes off the rails every time he’s left alone,’’ Tomas snapped, trying and failing to keep his voice level.

‘’I’m sorry, okay? Don’t have a go at me, mate. Work called, I was doing you a favour and you know I have a busy schedule.’’

Tomas sighed. Kasia was right. ‘’Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just… I got really scared when I came home. I’m sorry, I know it’s not your problem.’’

‘’Yeah, well, I know you’re upset, but I couldn’t have known he was gonna pull some crazy shit like that.’’

‘’Yeah. I’m at the hospital right now,’’ Tomas said, dragging on his cig. ‘’I’m gonna go back in, it’s fucking freezing. See you later?’’

‘’Yeah, let me know if he’s alright.’’

Back in the waiting room, Tomas put his head in his hands, raking his fingers through his curls. He couldn’t stop seeing Rowe’s legs. The way he’d just been lying there, letting himself bleed out. And where had he even found that hammer? He must have really wanted it. And Tomas hadn’t been there to stop him.

A woman called his name uncertainly, and Tomas stood up. He suddenly felt desperately tired. She gave him a delicate smile and he followed her into the belly of the hospital.

#kasia treats tomas fuckin BADLY bro #tomas and rowe #whump #whump fic #dehumanisation #pet whump #pet whumpee #master/pet

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #451

“taste the waste of their god’s grace & spit your hate upon your young”

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube? A shitload of people. Do you like to go to the farmer's market? Yeah, sure. What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be? Probably black. What's your favorite melon? I don't really like melons, actually. What was the name of the last pet of yours that died? Teddy. :( When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with? Literally every day. Seriously. It's funny, I dread fighting to sleep at night, but I also just want it to be time to sleep so time will pass. My life is just so fucking boring that I just... wait for something exciting to happen. Name one person you've never had a fight with: Tez. What are you currently listening to? "Sex Metal Barbie" by In This Moment. What would you rather have: cat or dog? I prefer cats. Who is your least favorite person in real life? Probably my sister's husband. Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really? I'll sometimes watch live let's plays. Does your house have security cameras? No. If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be? I'll be dyeing it. What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened? I'm not sure. What soundtrack do you listen to the most? Silent Hill 2's, definitely. Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult? I don't know if it's really a secret, but I didn't know until this year that my dad did some really dangerous drugs before us kids were born. Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you? Yes. What’s something you like to have many options to choose from? Food, ha ha. Feels great to have a full kitchen after a grocery trip. What’s the strangest decorative object you own? Nothing "strange" to me. What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now? One biggie is having a baby. I just... could not imagine. My life would plummet. What’s been your proudest moment? Graduating in the top percentile in my high school graduating class. What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen? Omfg, Sausage Party. That movie was so gross. Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals? Thankfully, no. I don't even think I could befriend someone who doesn't like animals. Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts? No. Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal? Yeah, like me with whale sharks. Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer? Not really, no. Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills? Amy Lee's. And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand? Yeah, such as Bob Dylan. Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf? Tui T. Sutherland, but only because I read their series Wings of Fire. Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today? I'm sure on Facebook at some point. Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? Does the freezer count? If so, this Healthy Choice grilled chicken pesto bowl I have in there. I am like addicted to them. Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately? I don't know. If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it? It varies month-to-month. Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to? I had my Markiplier tattoo essentially redone by a better artist. I also plan on getting my "ohana" tat covered, as well as my "how rare and beautiful it is to even exist" one (I adore the quote, but it's not an original design, which I don't like having anymore), and I want to move and redesign my "perfectly flawed" one because I want a bigger tattoo in its location. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind? Yeah; I'm pretty sure I like-like my friend Girt now, something I was never entirely sure about. When was the last time you did something on a whim? *shrug* Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? Well, I guess both, but Dad didn't do a lot of the teaching part about life and stuff. Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week? No. Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’ Yes. Colleen tried that with me and Girt and only succeeded in making us very uncomfortable. She said something I wanted to slap her for that I won't repeat. What is your card game of choice? Magic: The Gathering. What is your favourite books series? I think my favorite series of all time was the Shiloh trilogy. I adored both the books and movies. Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions? You'd better give me landmarks, ha ha. Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books? Of course. What was your favourite gym class moment? There're such things as GOOD gym memories in school? Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun? Yes. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? No, I always thought it was very flattering that they even wanted mine. Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie? The Phantom Virus one. I had the video game as a kid, too. Could never beat the damn thing. Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down? No? I don't like seeing children - or anyone - fall. Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past? So, this really only happened once, and it was coincidentally the day I learned of her pancreatic cancer, but before Mom told me. I had an assignment to interview someone of an older generation about how various sources of media affected their lives, like the development of TV and such, and she really got into it. It was very interesting to learn about. Do you have a crush on someone? I guess I do idfk. If so... what does his/her name begin with? "D." What attracts you to them? More than anything, the fact he's been there for me without fail. Both single and when I was with Jason and he was interested in me, he's just... been there and has made an effort since high school to be in my life in one way or another. Do they know that you like them? Not anymore, no. We dated for a few months, but I broke up with him because he felt more like my brother, so I would assume he doesn't think I do. Maybe he still is family to me. I really don't know what I feel. If they don't know, why didn't you tell them? I might at some point, idk. We just haven't talked in a while. Name two people that you miss: Jason and Megan. Have you ever seen Titanic? When I was in the hospital, yes. Everyone was crying, lmao. Have you ever swam with dolphins? No, but I would. When was the last time you had a stomachache? Now. Mother Nature finally visited me after three whole fucking months and is v angry. What's going to bed early for you? Like 7:00. Do you want to have a big family in the future? Of pets! Human kids ain't for me. What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? Hell if I know. Favorite Nicholas Cage movie? Ghost Rider. Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have? Yes. I got Moderna. If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects? I did on my second dosage. I was OUT of it the day afterwards, but then I was fine. What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself? I need new bras badly. What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful? It's called "Not Just A Pet Rock (Python regius)" and is a group for advanced ball python husbandry. It is very informative, but I will say there is a SHITLOAD of very rude elitists. Do you like your butt? Why or why not? NO because it's a PANCAKE and I want CAKE. Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia? I personally think so. When Sara visited and we were trying to go to my older sister's so she especially could meet her, Ash entirely ignored Mom's messages. I know her homophobic husband well enough to nearly be able to guarantee he didn't want us coming over because the kids "don't need to see that." Ash kinda does what Nick says, so... you know. Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I know I'm happier with pets. Who was the last person you went on a date with? Sara. Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid? No. What’s your favorite way to curl your hair? It's too short to do that. At what age did you start swearing? However old I was in 7th grade. What is something you physically can’t do? Clean up vomit lkdsjal;sdkjfa;lkwd. I can't clean up my pet's or even my own. I literally can't. My mom has to. What do like better, apples or oranges? Apples. I don't like oranges. Around the holidays, do you hope for snow? Yes!!! What are your top two favorite bands? Ozzy Osbourne and Metallica. How many people do you 100% trust? Like two. Maybe. Do you care what others think about you? Way too much. Has anyone ever called you a bitch? My grandmother has. Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger? Omg yes, I was obsessed. Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don't even have that. Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat? No. Not because I don't want to, because I do, but I would have an extreme protein deficit if I did that. Besides meat, I don't like enough protein-rich foods. Have you ever had a rolling backpack? Yes. Did you make any money today? I haven't made any money in a very, very long time. I'm only ever paid when someone hires me to take pictures for them. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I don't know. Definitely not very high. Have you ever gone swimming in a river? Yes. What was the last souvenir someone got you? I have zero clue. Do you have a favorite remix of a song? Hm. Perhaps this techno-y remix of "Psychosocial" by Slipknot. I don't know for sure, though. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? Either the violin or piano. Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Nope. Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)? Probably clouded leopards aesthetics, but I think lions overall. If you had $500,000, what would you do with it? Pay off school debt as well as help Mom with various financial issues, buy new glasses, buy Mom and I a new house and car, get Venus a great tank with all the optimal supplies, get LOADS of tattoos, donate to various charities, adopt a few specific pets, travel to Yellowstone, get laser hair removal on my legs and teeth whitening... There are a lot of possibilities. Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid? Just scaly ones. :') "First loves are never really over." Is this true for you? Yeeeep... Did you like Michael Jackson before he died? I didn't really have an opinion on him. I know/like a couple songs, sure. What are some things that would make you break up with someone? If they became abusive, started doing drugs, acted arrogantly, didn't understand my mental conditions and were unwilling to be emotionally supportive, stuff like that. What was the worst breakup you've ever had? Ha, the one with Jason. For. Fucking. Sure.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''degrade'' by 3teeth

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green-eyed-whumpster · 3 years

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My OC Universe: Rowan 106

Summary 106 Summary: Cordelia has to try and make sense out of Rowan’s behaviour, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it himself. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee

The door swung open the next morning and Peter’s eyes rested instinctively on Rowan’s bed, furrowing in worry when he found it empty, except for Olivia, who was reclined in the centre of the mattress. He turned his head and realised where Rowan had gone when he recognised the larger-than-normal outline in Cordelia’s bed and the vibrant red hair exposed from the blankets.

“Did you know about this?” He asked Olivia quietly, she met his gaze apathetically and rolled off the bed, trotting towards him and passing through the door. “Fine, fine,” He murmured, stepping away from the doorway and gently leaving the pair to sleep.

Cordelia awoke just after the door shut and took a moment to get her bearings. She was surprised to find Rowan pressed against her eagerly, arms pulling him tighter to her and head resting in the crook of her neck.

It took her another moment to remember how Rowan ended up in her bed at all, and then a few more to heavily consider whether or not she should risk moving and waking him. The way he had latched onto her was so needy that she eventually decided that he had been truly upset by his nightmare, and was now looking for physical support, which had to come from her.

She couldn’t help but admit, a part of her wanted to slide out of his grasp and escape the embrace, but a larger part of her couldn’t bear to imagine the look on his face when he realised he was alone. So she decided to stay, at least until she couldn’t anymore, and even then, would wake him as delicately as possible.

He grumbled softly, like a squirrel chittering to its friend, shifting even closer to her, tightening his arms and nuzzling her skin. She froze, waiting patiently, certain that it wouldn’t be long now until he woke up enough to remove herself. Once Rowan realised she was strangely still his grasp loosened, gravity pulling him further away as his eyes fluttered open and met hers.

“Good morning, Rowan.” She said softly, taking her newly-freed arm and brushing his hair from his eyes. “Did you sleep better?” She asked and he nodded eagerly, eyes crinkling as his lips turned up in a smile.

“I did, thank you.” He said, cuddling closer to her. Cordelia was stupefied by his affectionate behaviour, Rowan had never been so needy, or so forward.

“Are you all right?” She asked curiously and he hesitated, looking up to meet her eyes before turning away, cheeks tinging with shame.

“I…yes, sorry,” She felt some sort of relief when he slid from her arms, but it was immediately destroyed when she saw the way he had curled away from her, shoulders hunched in defeat.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” She placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him from climbing out and running away from her. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” She asked as her hand gently pushed his shoulder back into the mattress.

“I’m sorry! I-I just, I feel safe with you, I wanted to…to be closer to you,” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks as red as his hair. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I’m so sorry!” His voice cracked weakly and she rushed to comfort him, it was far too early for him to be crying.

“It’s all right, Rowan, don’t cry, I was just a little confused, I didn’t know why you wanted to be so close.” She soothed, stroking his cheek gently. “If you want something just tell me, you know that I’ll help you however I can.” He finally met her gaze and nodded shamefully.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered and she shushed him comfortingly, wrapping her arms around him again and letting his hands clutch her against him and his head nuzzle into her front.

“Don’t be sad, Rowan, it’s just a bit hard when I don’t know what you’re doing, that’s all.” She said and he looked up, studying her face carefully.

“I-I want to be with you,” He murmured. “You, you’ve been so kind and patient with me, and I just…I feel better when you’re around.”

Cordelia had no idea how to respond, she had no idea how to process the idea. He waited earnestly for her answer, eyes already sparkling with tears in preparation for her rejection. Cordelia thought of both what he had said, and Peter’s confession. And of the uncomfortable situation she was now in. Last time someone professed their desire to be with her she ran away from home and was saved by Peter.

“Rowan,” She began softly. “I’m scared that you don’t actually want to be with me, in the way you describe, but you just think I’m safe, and you feel as though you ‘have’ to be with me in some sort of way. I don’t want you to think that your affections are some sort of payment, and that I should have them purely because I’ve been nice to you.”

I told you! Why would she want to be with a pathetic waste like you?

“I-I-but I want to be with you!” He squeaked. “I could make you happy, if you just gave me a chance!”

“Rowan, that’s…” She paused to intercept his hand as it lifted to touch her cheek and took it gently. “I couldn’t make you happy. After everything you’ve been through the past few…years, I wouldn’t rush into a relationship. Not even with someone you trusted. I’m leaving soon, remember? In a week I’ll be halfway around the world and I won’t be back for a long time. Not only will you not be happy with me, but you won’t be with me.” He hesitated as her thumb gently stroked his and sniffed.

“I-I miss being held…” He whispered in shame, turning his head away. “I don’t…I can’t trust people’s words, I know better if people are happy with me if they…if they show me.” Cordelia readjusted the way she was laying and embraced him carefully, in a very obviously comforting as opposed to intimate way.

“We don’t lie to you, Rowan,” She whispered, lips brushing his messy hair. “We don’t want to manipulate you like William did. We don’t want you to think that what William did to you was normal.” She still cringed as he curled into her arms and sighed softly.

“Why don’t you come out and we can have some breakfast? I won’t say anything to Peter about this, and,” She hesitated, feeling the way he trembled under her arms and sensing the head radiating from his cheeks. “If you just want someone to keep you company then I don’t mind, keeping you company.”

“No.” He pushed away suddenly and stood up, shaking slightly as he rocked on his heels. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Rowan, I’m only offering you comfort if you want it.” Cordelia replied. “Just because I don’t want to be with you doesn’t mean I don’t want to look after you.”

“I don’t want anymore pity!” He snapped in reply and scrunched his hands in his shirt. “No one ever treats me like an adult! And I don’t want to be reliant on everyone! I’m not a toy for you to look after to make yourself feel better!” Cordelia sat up and raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise.

“Rowan, you can’t be an adult. You don’t behave like one. You are a traumatised child and until we can fix that aspect of you we can’t be expected to treat you like you’re capable of being one.” She answered, her voice was firm and it hit Rowan like a physical blow, knocking him back a few steps. “If you can’t even go into a quiet village without being attacked, how can we trust you on your own?”

“S-stop it!” He whimpered. “I-it’s not my fault!”

“Rowan you don’t seem to realise, that you can’t just sweep what happened under the rug and forget about it! An experience like that will live with you forever, and it’s a long road to finding the place where you can move on from it! I don’t think you accept that you need pity, you need that extra layer of security. As soon as you acknowledge that you can’t ignore what happened, everything becomes far easier.” Her face softened as she saw the tears streaming down his cheeks and shook her head softly. “You would still rely on us, but at least once you’ve come to terms with your trauma it won’t be so hard asking for or accepting our help. Do you understand?”

She waited for him to scream at her and accuse her of being like William, like anyone in his past. But, to her surprise he nodded weakly and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I do,”

It was too early for the depressing tone in his voice.

“Do you want a hug?” She asked uncertainly. She shouldn’t have been the one to talk to Rowan in such a way, but Peter was curiously absent.

“Yes please,” He whispered and stepped forward, collapsing against her stomach as his arms wrapped around her waist. “I’m sorry for getting upset,” He murmured against her naval.

“It’s all right,” She sighed gently. “I may have spoken a bit harshly. I was just surprised by this morning.”

“I’m sorry about that, too,” He admitted. “Maybe you’re right. I was too afraid to ask to be close to you. I-I think you were right.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Peter #Olivia #Cordelia #PTSD whumpee #therapy animal #angst #conditioned whumpee #broken whumpee #coping mechanisms

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 5 years

Text

Stay Ch. 16

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, and fluff, and feels oh my!

A/N: So yeah I swear I wroth an authors note for this... but idfk what happened.

ANYWAY! Thank you all for being so patient while I got my life together. This one is also short and sweet (guess that’s the mood I’m in). However, y’all should know me by now. This is just the calm before the storm.

Hope you enjoy this one my pumpkins!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight@jeromethepsycho @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere@wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

March 2007

At some point in the last five months, you’d stopped recognizing yourself. The woman in the mirror wasn’t Y/N. Her hair was different, down to even the eyebrows. Her accent distinctly that of a life long Londoner. She worked for an independent UK couture fashion magazine, chose wine over whiskey, and was distinctly heterosexual.

When the chance to work this job requiring deep cover came up in December you jumped on it. You didn’t want to be you anymore. The you that couldn’t be with the woman you loved. The you that was heartbroken. The you who was beginning to doubt that you’d ever be happy. Fuck her.

Being Charlie Daniels was far better. She was, of course, a real person. Just one who was now living comfortably in the Bahamas courtesy of MI6. Even legit agencies had use of freelance talent every now and then.

Settling into her life had been easy. Not setting her boss on fire or blowing his brains out daily was a different task altogether. Turned out that a magazine was a great front for a crime empire. Lots of international travel, young and beautiful and desperate men and women, money exchanged in countless untraceable ways, on and on. And this fucker was happy to take advantage of every single disgusting avenue it opened up.

You almost had everything you needed to hand to MI6, get your obscenely large payout, and get on to another gig while they threw all of these bastards into cells to rot for the rest of their miserable lives. Just one more trip. After whatever horrible things they lay out in Tokyo you’ll be set.

Tokyo is one of those cities you can lose yourself in. Like New York but better for its interesting balance of vibrancy and grounded reserve. You absolutely love it.

The whole point of the trip, at least on the surface, was to focus on Fashion Week Tokyo. Honestly, there was a part of you that wished this was your world. Nothing but runway shows and after parties. Writing about the latest trends rather than delving into the inner workings of the worlds miscreants

Oh well. It was nice enough to pretend. You had to admit that you’d miss Charlie Daniels once you shed this skin in a couple of weeks.

You’re sitting two people down from your boss at an underground show. The level of security here screams that there are other things going on behind the scenes but it’s still a room filled with a who’s who of the Japanese and international fashion communities.

This was your third show of the day, and you knew there would be a party after where you’d have to schmooze all while plucking information from your unsuspecting fellow guests. You’re exhausted. So rather than pay much attention to the show you let your mind wander.

When she walks out you feel her rather than see her. Slowly you turn your head to stare dumbstruck at the model walking onto the catwalk. Your heart begins beating against your ribs, your mouth goes dry, your hands shake.

It takes every ounce of control you have to keep your emotions in. To not scream “Natasha!” at the top of your lungs. To not grab her and run for the hills. Charlie Daniels and her easy life be damned. It’s hard but you manage.

As she turns and comes back down, passing now closer to you, her eyes don’t graze the crowd at all. Head up, shoulders back, she walks the runway like she’d been doing it for years.

The rest of the show is maybe ten minutes but it feels like years. You know the models are all attending the party. Eye candy for the high end guests.

It’s fairly easy to ditch your coworkers in the crowd as you try to find the best vantage point in the room without being too obvious. After a solid twenty minutes, you find yourself planning an escape route. Most of the models are milling about but she’s no where to be seen. You will find her.

But you know you can’t skip out just yet. At the bar, you order a red wine and make yourself seen. Charlie would never miss the whole party after all. You spend a bit chatting with designers and a few models, feigning interest in the whole thing until you hear your boss call out to you.

“Oy, Charlie!” Carl’s voice alone makes you want to put him down. When you turn he’s waving you over to the bar. Sighing heavily you head over.

You’re about ten feet away when you see her, head back laughing at something Carl or his friend had said. Both men are far to close to her for your liking and the hungry look on Carl’s face sets your blood boiling.

He slings an arm around your shoulders and you carefully coach your face to not show disgust. “Charlie here is my best writer. Doin’ some pieces for us on this whole thing,” he waves his other hand around wildly.

“Good to meet ya, Charlie, I’m Dan,” the other man, clearly American says.

“Likewise,” Natasha doesn’t react to the accent at all.

“This here is-”

“Natalie,” Natasha cuts him off, extending a hand to you. Holding her eyes with yours you take it. It’s like touching a live wire.

“Natalie is an American model working here in Japan. May be a good topic for a piece.” He ribs you leaning closer, “And a good piece for the office eh?” Suddenly that MI6 money seems far less appealing.

“I’d love that,” Natasha beams. “Why don’t you guys go mingle and Charlie and I can chat!” The men exchange a glance, but there’s plenty of fresh meat around to sink their teeth into.

Carl flashes you a greasy smile and a wink as he walks away. Thinking clearly that you’re going to snare this woman for him. You, unfortunately, had a few others. Not something you were proud of. Demands of the job you told yourself.

“She’ll take a vodka neat,” you tell the bartender.

“Yes,” Natasha smiles at him, “Whiskey for her. Makers if you have it.” He thinks nothing of it and makes your drinks.

“So, how’s modeling in Japan?”

“Probably about as good as writing for a sleazy jackal.”

You laugh, “That bad? What’s the goal.”

“Getting a cover,” you commend the clever word play.

“That’s a good goal. Long term?”

“Something like that.” She takes a sip of her vodka, “How long are you here?”

“End of the week.” Your skin itches to touch her. The men are rounding back. You hold her gaze and shift your eyes back to them. She catches on.

“Perfect! It’s so hard to have a good interview here, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you come by my hotel?” You whip out your spare key card. “I’d love to get your story for the mag, maybe do a full feature.”

“A feature would be excellent exposure!”

“Wouldn’t it?” Carl slides up next to her. “We can get you all the exposure you could want Ms. Natalie.”

“Charlie was telling me all about it.” She flashes him a coy smile. “Thank you so much Charlie! I forgot I have a late fitting tonight for another show so I’ve got to run. But we’ll chat soon yeah?”

“Absolutely! It was so good to meet you Natalie.”

“Same! Bye!” She hurries through the crowded room and disappears.

“Busy girl.” Carl quips. “Whiskey?” You look down at the glass by your hand.

“Some guy sent them over,” you gesture to Natasha’s lipstick stained glass. “Seemed rude to refuse. Can’t stand the stuff though.”

“That’s a mans drink,” Carl laughs at his own perceived joke and you force a smile.

Somehow you make it through the rest of the evening. You’d refused to allow yourself to hope that she’d be here, too obvious to come the same night, better to wait. Kicking off your shoes you head straight to the mini bar and crack open a whiskey, downing it in one gulp.

“You really need to be more careful,” Natasha’s voice comes from the bathroom. “I mean not even checking around. Sloppy.”

“Charlie Daniels doesn’t have to check for Russian assassins in her bathroom,” a smile pulls your face so tight it hurts.

“Well, Natalie Rushman isn’t a Russian spy. So…”

You let your real accent resurface as you pull her into your arms, “Natalie Rushman, I don’t know if that’s clever or lazy.” She kisses you hard, tongue sliding over your lips hands gripping your ass.

“Mmm,” she hums. “Kinda like the accent.”

“Oh?” You revert to the clipped posh Londoner sound. “Would you rather be with Charlie? I hate to break it to you, she’s strictly into dick so you may need to get a bit creative.”

Natasha’s head falls back with laughter, “I’m always into a challenge but,” she cups your face in her hands, “I’d much rather Y/N, she’s got a cute accent too.” Your kiss is soft this time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, honey.” Gently you push a strand of hair out of her face. “Is this smart? Are you gonna get-”

“I’m good. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was risk.” She pulls away and tugs you toward the bed. “There’s no surveillance on me here, I check in every week, that’s it. This is strictly to build a cover.”

“Cover for what?” She gives you a sideways glance. “Right. National security.”

“Do you really want to talk about work?”

Smirking at her you push her back on the bed. “Maybe later.”

You lean down to her but she stops you by planting a strappy heel in the center of your chest. Trailing your fingers down her leg you snag a knife from her thigh holster. Carefully you slide the blade under the straps, the incredibly sharp edge cuts through the thin suede like it’s nothing.

“Those were very expensive you know,” eyes sparkling with desire.

You slip the shoe off and toss it aside. “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Your lips press against her ankle.

Everything in your life until her was so fleeting. Even your own name, the sound of your own voice, who you were… But with her, you were grounded. You weren’t anything but her’s, you were Y/N.

Suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Caressing her muscular calf you just stare at her eyes. Emerald green, dark liner, lids heavy with lust and exhaustion.

“Natasha…” Your voice cracks and you fight for composure.

“Y/N? What is it?” She shoots up, cradling your face in her hands.

You shake your head, unable to really find the words and unwilling to send this storm of emotions to her. “I just…” You cover her hands with your own. It’s not that you don’t want her, you do. But…

“Can we just… I just wanna hold you…” Her expression immediately softens, eyes sparkling a touch with tears. “Sorry… I… I just…”

“I’d love that, baby.” Tenderly her lips brush yours, then your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids as they flutter closed.

You shed your clothes and crawl into the plush bed. Holding tight to one another you spend hours drifting in and out of sleep, covering the other with soft kisses. Before the sun rises your hands wander southward.

This time you don’t fuck one another senseless. It feels like you’re trying to memorize every curve, every sound, every subtle thing that marks being together. You both know you many not get to do this for some time. The knowledge aches but it doesn’t make having her any less sweet.

Post Snap

You lean your head back on the wall behind the booth. The crying man from last night is gone, you find yourself hoping that he’s resting peacefully somewhere… even though you know it’s pointless to hope for such things.

There are more people filling the bar than there was before. The TVs are off, radios turned up, reporters frantically trying to determine what happened. It was global, that was clear. All planes grounded, trains stopped, communications spotty due to damaged cell towers.

A man speaks frantically to someone who seems to be a friend that he was heading to Nuremberg from Budapest, how the roads are almost not navigable. He doesn’t know if his family is even still there but he has to find out.

Despite his distress, your lips curl a bit at the mention of Budapest.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #queer fic #wlw

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liilgoobs · 5 years

Text

Think Twice (tua/spn crossover) Pt. 1/??

A/N: This is most definitely going to be a series, but I honestly have no clue where I’m going with this. I just wanted to make it happen. Hope you guys enjoy, I’ll update as much as I can :)

Warnings: language

Pairing: (idfk yet we’ll figure it out but this is for sure an x reader)

The world as we know it is filled with monsters. Angels, Demons, and all of the horrible things in-between. The Winchesters were raised to fight them. Save people, hunt things, the family business. John Winchester was the one to save number eight. She was the fraternal twin to Vanya Hargreeves, the two of them being anything but special.

It was a Tuesday when Number Eight left her life at the academy behind.

“It’s time to get up, Number Eight!” Grace chirped as she entered the bedroom, pulling the curtains open to let light pool in.

She opened her eyes slowly to meet a dull, gray ceiling.“Thank you, Grace.”

Sitting up as the blonde leaves the room, her eyes squint to adjust to the brightness. She glances at the clock beside her which read 8:30 AM. A sigh escaping her lips she swings her legs over the bed, standing up.

It was the same routine everyday for her. Wake up at 8:30, breakfast, school, watch the other siblings train, eat dinner, go to bed. With an occasional mission here and there.

She was sick of it. She was desperate for change.

Throwing on her uniform and glasses, Number Eight makes her way downstairs to see her siblings already seated at the table.

“Number Eight,” Reginald’s voice booms through the kitchen. “You’re late.”

She shrugs. “Sorry.” She mumbles, sitting across from Five. She meets his eyes, which faintly have concern glazed over them.

Eight avoids his stare, picking at her eggs. Five was her best friend, being able to immediately pick up when she wasn’t feeling 100 percent.

“Children,” Reginald says, standing up at the table. “You all have a mission today, and we are leaving in exactly 15 minutes. Please prepare as you need. You are all dismissed.”

All the siblings get up to leave, but Number Eight stays in place staring at her plate with a blank look.

Five goes to leave, but stops himself at the doorway. He turns around and sees her sitting there in silence. “Eight?”

She pushes her plate away, looking up at Five. “Yeah?”

“You coming?” He asks, walking over to her slowly. She shakes her head.

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking,” She mumbles, quickly standing up to walk with Five.

“Thinking about what?” He asks as they stroll over to the staircase.

The teenage girl hesitates, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

She always loved the color of them, it was like staring into a never-ending ocean.

“I just,” She sighs as they approach her door. “I’m tired of this. This everyday routine. There is nothing special about me. I don’t have powers. This is basically a damn boarding school. Why am I even here?”

Five nods in agreement. “I wouldn’t say you aren’t special, you’re extremely intelligent.”

Eight’s cheeks flush slightly. She was very smart, and helped all of her siblings with homework. She could even teach Grace a thing or two, if she really tried.

“But I am tired of him holding us back. Holding me back. I’ve been working on my spatial jumps. I’m sure as hell ready to time travel.”

Eight leans against the doorframe, “But Five, we’ve been over the risks of what could happen. You and I both know you’re more than ready ability wise, but knowledge wise we have no clue on where it could take you or what it could do to you,”

Five scoffs. “Should’ve expected that from you. I thought you believed in me,”

Eight straightens her posture, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Of course I believe in you, I just don't want to loose you because we didn’t do enough research..” She defends.

“We have spent night after night researching, Eight. What more do you want?You’re just jealous I have the ability to do things you can’t. You and Vanya are jealous of us. All you two do is shove your nose in a book and think that’s enough.” He spits, his temper getting the best of him once again.

His words sink into Eight’s skin, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

Hearing such hurtful words come out of his mouth was a stab to the chest.

Five sees the hurt spread across her face, instantly regretting his words.

“Eight..I-” He starts to say but she cuts him off, tears brimming her eyes.

“Save it.” Her voice was low and quiet. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

She walks into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Five sighs, staring at the wooden door with a metal eight on it. He walks away, already planning on how to apologize to her later when she’s cooled off. But for now, he needs to focus on this mission.

The car ride was silent, until Reginald breaks it with the rundown of the mission.

“There are 10 burglars in this bank. You are to eliminate them and save the hostages. You are to use the strategies and skills we trained for. No funny business.”

Klaus chuckles, earning him a hard glare in return.

As all the children listen intently, Eight stares out the window and tunes her ‘fathers’ voice out.

Her mind wanders, wondering what her life would be if she lived with a normal set of parents and siblings.

Maybe she’d live in a cute little house. And have a dog. Maybe even have a name, not a number.

What she wished for most, is a family who actually loved and cared for her. She’d give anything for that.

As the car stops, the kids pile out while securing the masks on their face. Five and Eight make eye contact, but she breaks it as soon as they connect eyes.

The 6 kids take off into the building, as Vanya and Eight stay by Reginald’s side.

“Rough morning?” Her sister asks, making Eight shrug.

“I suppose you could say that.”

Their father tunes them out when it comes to missions, so they carry on having a quiet conversation.

“Your violin sounded nice yesterday. You'e improving. You know I read-”

“Cut it out, Eight. I heard yours and Five’s argument before we left. I can tell you’re upset,” She presses, making her sister go silent. “I am your twin, you know.”

Eight didn’t know how to respond. She played with the hem of her coat anxiously.

“I’m tired of people thinking we aren’t special, just because we’re not like the others. You’re musically inclined. I study my ass off,” She whispers, just so Vanya could hear. “We’re just as important as them.”

Vanya nods in agreement. That was something they bonded over constantly.

Their attention is shifted when two of the robbers are tossed out of the bank, landing on the steps painfully.

“That looked like it hurt,” Eight giggles lightly, making her sister chuckle. “Leave it to Luther to literally throw someone out of a building.”

“Come on Number Seven, Number Eight. Reporters are here. You both know what I expect of you.” He orders, not glancing once in the twins’ direction.

They share a look with each other before walking to the car to wait for everyone.

The duo stood by the car for about ten minutes, watching their siblings get their pictures taken.

Eight admires Five’s shit-eating grin and it makes the corners of her mouth turn up. But it’s gone as soon as it’s arrived, his painful words flooding back into her brain.

Her attention is shifted when she sees a tall, rugged backed creature sprint into a nearby alleyway. Eight glances at her sister, who wasn’t paying attention.

“Did you just see that?” Eight asks, making Vanya look over.

“See what?” She asks in confusion, glancing over in the alleyway.

“It was this huge, slimy thing. It looked so cool! We have to follow it!” She exclaims, tugging her sisters hand. Vanya quickly pulls away.

“We can’t! Father said we have to stay here,” Eight scoffs.

“Oh come on Vanya! This is our chance to make something interesting happen in our lives! What could go wrong?” She pleads, Vanya still shaking her head.

“We could get hurt or get in trouble! We can’t just go running off!” She denies, looking quickly back over to where the rest of the siblings were.

Eight rolls her eyes. “Whatever, suit yourself. I’m going to go check it out. I need something exciting to happen in my life.”

Vanya’s eyes widen as Eight takes off running towards the alleyway. “Eight!” She calls out half heartedly, starting to panic.

5 minutes go by, and she still hasn’t returned. 5 minutes turn into 10, and 10 turn into 15.

Vanya debates on going to look for her, until Reginald is by her side as the kids pile into the car.

“Number seven, where is number Eight?” He asks firmly, making Five stop in his tracks.

“I-I,” Vanya stutters, anxiety building in her chest.

“Spit it out, child!” He orders, growing more impatient.

Five’s heartbeat starts to rise out of worry. Where was Eight?

“S-She saw something in the alleyway and r-ran off towards it about 20 minutes a-ago,” She stutters, making him grunt in anger.

Five’s heart drops, as the kids stare at him in confusion.

“Get in the car, Number Seven.” He says with anger clear in his voice.

“What about-” Five protests but he cuts him off.

“I SAID GET IN THE CAR. If she wants to run away, so be it. Not like her presence made a difference in our lives, anyways.” He roars, climbing into the passenger seat. The kids exchange sad and confused looks, as they drive away.

Where is Number Eight?

#fanfic #tua #spn #crossover #tua imagines #spn imagine #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #oc #writing #requests open #x reader #ben hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #series

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Curious Conundrum (Part 31)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1682

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

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

In the early spring, your beautiful niece Rosie was born. John and Mary asked that you and Sherlock be the godparents. You nearly jumped at the thought, something Sherlock didn’t quite understand but was honored, nonetheless.

All was still not entirely settled around the lives of the Holmes and the Watsons as it seemed someone was trying to dredge up Mary’s past. Six busted Margaret Thatcher busts made that clear. Eventually, Mary realized her past was catching up with her so she left. In her letter to John, she tried to make it apparent that she was not running, she was temporarily relocating.

Eventually, John and Sherlock found her. Easy, considering the three of you had talked about approaching her. John suggested the tracker. Sherlock had it fashioned, installed, and then confronted her. She went on the lamb that night.

But then they located her and convinced her to come back home. That still left the puzzle as to why Ajay thought Mary had betrayed him and the rest of AGRA. Sherlock had worked it out and sent texts to John and Mary, to which he called you.

“Y/N, I need you to meet me at the London aquarium. Take the service entrance.”

“Why?”

“Vivian Norbury. She’s behind it all.”

“Not Smallwood?”

“No. It’s Norbury, the secretary. Nobody expects it but--”

“But they hear and see everything,” you finished.

“Precisely.”

“Wait, but why the service entrance?”

“I am going to find her there, at her favorite spot. Her office just told me about it. I think she’s bold enough to double cross the British government and a group of highly trained assassins, she’s bold enough to bring a gun to her exposition.”

“Let’s just call Lestrade,” you said.

“No, he’ll never make it. She knows we’re onto her. She’ll flee, he’ll be too late. I’m almost there.”

By now you had hailed a cab, and were climbing in.

“Okay, fine, service entrance. Then what?”

“Wait. She’s going to want to tell me why she did it all. I’ll stall her for as long as I can until the police do arrive. In case she tries to run or kill us, I need you there. Tell no one you’re coming.”

“Okay.”

You did as you were told and when you arrived, you took the service doors. You tried to find your way through the maze of windowless walls and cold corridors. Eventually, you came out at far end of the hall, and looked to your left, seeing an old woman holding a gun.

In the shadows, you tiptoe down the corridor, until you were just outside the room.

“Maybe I can still surprise you,” she said and she pulled her gun up, aiming it.

“Now come on, be sensible,” Lestrade’s voice carried.

You peeked around the corner to see just who she was pointing at, and it was mainly trained on Sherlock and Mary.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said and you knew she was about to shoot. This woman was cornered like a wounded, wild animal.

Nothing went through your head except saving Mary and Sherlock. No afterthought. No hesitation. No weighing the options. You knew there would be no time for that. The moment you ran from your hiding place in the shadows, was the moment she fired her weapon.

A loud bang hit your ears first. Then you noticed you’d been propelled into Sherlock’s arms. At first, you wondered if you had tripped on your way over to him, but then the sting in your lower back started to settle in. Then that sting turned to a strong burning, concentrated sensation in your body.

Sherlock grabbed you, holding you tight as you became dead weight in his arms. Mary gasped as her eyes grew wide. She helped Sherlock try and ease you down to the ground.

“Call an ambulance,” she ordered as she turned to Lestrade and his team.

“Sherlock?” you said, wincing in pain.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he assured as he took your hand, his face a flurry of emotions.

“Hiding in the service entrance was a stupid idea,” you remarked.

“Sherlock, she’s bleeding a lot,” Mary noted quietly.

“I know,” he said through clenched teeth.

A second later, John showed up.

“Y/N? Y/N!” he exclaimed when he realized you’d been hit. “Let me through!” he barked at everyone, and everyone obliged except Sherlock. He couldn’t move an inch.

“Oh god, she’s been shot,” he murmured. “Alright, Y/N, I need to roll you to your stomach to stop some of the bleeding.”

“Okay, doc,” you teased, trying not to show too much discomfort. He helped you roll over to your stomach and then he peeled up your shirt to look at the wound. “No exit wound. Alright. Where is the bloody ambulance!” John shouted as he turned around.

“John, I… I feel cold,” you stated. “Is that normal?”

“Yes, that’s perfectly normal,” he said, lying to you as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over you. You were going into shock and he needed to stop it, now.

Before you knew what was really happening, paramedics had arrived and they were getting you secured onto a stretcher. They said only one person could ride with you. In this case, you wanted your brother. You trusted him, and you knew he would be a nervous wreck if he wasn’t in there with you. And if anything went wrong, it was another pair of medical hands on board. Mary followed in her car with Sherlock.

You were in surgery for only an hour, but it felt like an entire day passed when you woke up.

The doctors brought in your family to explain what they had seen and what you needed to do. According to them you were very lucky. It grazed your hip bone, shattering a very small portion on the top, barely touched any major organs. The most difficult thing was to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out for them.

Eventually, they got it out, stitched and bandaged you up. They wanted you in the hospital for a few more days to make sure the stitches didn’t come out and that you didn’t start to bleed internally.

As soon as the doctor gave them the information on how to keep you on the road to recovery, he left.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” John demanded, shouting at you.

“I wasn’t,” you admitted quietly.

“You’re damn right you weren’t! You could’ve been killed!”

“I know, but all I could think of was saving Mary and Sherlock. I saw that gun on them and… nothing else mattered.”

John shook his head in disbelief before he drug a hand down his face. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, shouting at the poor girl isn’t going to help,” Mary insisted.

“It might make her think with some bloody sense!” John retorted, his voice still raised.

“John Hamish Watson, you listen to me. Your sister was just shot. She took a bullet for me and your friend. You start showing her the love she needs right now or so help me I will personally kick you out of this hospital room,” Mary ordered.

John looked stunned at first but then he shook his head, knowing she was right. You didn’t need a lecture right now, you needed care and love.

“Yeah, alright, you’re right.” He sighed and walked over, sitting on your bed and taking your hand. “I’m sorry. You just scared me. I saw all that blood and I... “

“I know,” you assured, nodding. “It’s okay.”

Mary glanced to Sherlock who hadn’t said one word since the ambulance had arrived. “John, what do you say you and I go down and get Y/N some nice get well soon gifts?” she offered.

“What? But you just told me to be there for her,” he said, confused, his brows furrowing.

Mary’s gaze pointed at Sherlock and he caught on. Without another word, he got up and joined his wife on the way out of the door.

“What’s wrong?” you inquired with a worried tone. Sherlock being quiet only meant one thing: deep in thought. Otherwise he never shut up.

“Me? Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong. How are you feeling?”

“Don’t change the subject,” you said with a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you, nothing.”

“And I told you years ago to never lie to me.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what? Take a bullet for you?” you asked incredulously, as if it weren’t obvious.

“Yes, why? My life is no more important than yours. So why?”

You chewed your lip for a moment, trying to find the words. “I love you, Sherlock. Isn’t that enough?”

“I work with lovesick fools all the time, very few of them would literally take a bullet for someone so why me?” he insisted, his eyes glinting with a touch of anger.

“Because I’ve already lived through losing you once. I won’t do it again,” you informed.

A painful, sorrowful look colored his handsome expression. You wanted to feel bad, but it was the truth.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I know that does awful things to your conscience but its the truth. The idea of losing you or John losing Mary killed me. I couldn’t let it happen. I can't bear the thought of going through life again without you.”

Venom filled his voice as he retorted, “Oh, but I’m supposed to be okay with losing you?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, you just did it. You decided for both of us.”

“If the shoe were on the other foot, don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same because it would be a lie.”

He met you with nothing but a cold silence.

“Feel better. I’m going home to grab some things for you.”

Not another word could be spoken, for he turned quickly and sped out of the room. You let out a breath and John and Mary returned. Clearly, the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy.

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

Forever Tag:

@cocosierra94-deactivated2018081

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

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CC tag: @disneyoncerlover815 @ultrarebelheart @tngrayson @clairese1980 @ladyblablabla @molethemollie @lareinedususpense007

#curious conundrum #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x readder #sherlock holmes #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock #sherlock bbc #john watson

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hectordestroy · 4 years

Text

TW: my writing sucks

Prologue - Star’s Crash

Name: Imberia’Yalim

Sex: Female

Revolutions: 22

Species: Fantasma

Residence: Expiravit

Mission: To release Ghost Dust upon Earth, thus ending homosapiens

Earth was a whirlwind of egocentric color that seemed to be screaming for the entire universe’s attention. The deep blue of the ocean was calling out to be explored, only to be silenced by clouds floating over. Most of the landscape was brown and green, littered with the golden lights of cities.

How could such a breathtaking planet have such a terrible major species?

I didn’t want to look away from the sight before me, though I would surely die if I didn’t. This was the first time I had truly seen Earth- not in pictures, not in generated 3D spaces. In reality, with the intense vastness of the planet and its ancient history. Perhaps there was even the slightest possibility that humans aren’t so bad as I had been taught?

I forced myself to look away from the space shuttle window. It wouldn’t do me any good to dwell on these strange feelings. Emotions inevitably equals failure. That’s what I’d always learned.

I pushed my shoulders back and stepped toward the escape door. The Ghost Dust would be released on a timer, so I didn’t have to worry about it. My job was escorting the ship to Earth, making sure it would arrive. Now I had to go back to my planet.

I ran my tag through the door scanner, only to receive a red light. The door wouldn’t budge. I frowned and pressed a button on my headset. “Weslai, this is Imberia again. There is a technology issue. I cannot access the escape shuttle.”

“Oh, you can’t?” His voice came back. “Did you use your tag?”

I inhaled. “Yes, Lar! I did.”

“Let me see the problem. Put up a screen.”

I quickly radioed his station on a big screen that faced the door. “Do you see the issue?”

“Huh. I wonder why that’s happening.” In his voice, something strange was there. A hint of… pride.

He shrugged. “Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to override whatever’s keeping me from accessing the shuttle! I want to go back to Expiravit, not crash land on Earth!”

Lar smirked. “Ah… well, I’m afraid I can’t do that- well, I can. But I won’t. This opportunity was just too perfect.”

My thoughts clicked together like a final puzzle piece. Of course, I realized. Two birds with one stone. Destroy the humanoid forms of Earth, and get rid of me.

I spun back towards the screen. “Lar, you sycophant!”

“What of it?”

I quickly radioed a different station, but only received static. He’d already hacked my outside communications.

I began frantically trying to open the door, running back and forth between the keyboard controls and the escape hatch. My fingers skimmed the keyboard, furiously typing. Each time I almost got it, the same message came up: Access Denied.

“Weslai’Lar, you are the most petty, psychotic, selfish Fantasma ever!”

“Thank you. Although I could say the exact same for you. You know, one thing we’ve always had in common is our ruthlessness. I would do anything to get my way, but so would you. You already have.”

“Is this about the Comet Test? It is not my fault that you were caught cheating!”

“That’s a nice way of saying it to where the story paints you as the good one. It was, after all…”

He continued talking as I raced to the windows. I could make out the United States of America now. The ship was rapidly descending to Earth, and the timer only had two minutes before the ghost dust would be released. Wait. Ghost dust… that’s it! I began to change my focus on the ghost dust timer. Maybe, if I could find a way to work around that...

“Enjoy Earth!” Lar was saying. “Even if you survive the landing, which you won’t, the humans will devour you like the monsters they are.”

“I’d rather be with humans than stuck with you any day!” That wasn’t quite true, I hadn’t even met any humans. I had only heard rumors and learned about the flawed species from mentors. I really just wanted to make him mad.

Lar’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. Yalim, that almost sounds like treachery. You know that’s punishable by death.”

“You hypocritical bastard!” I spat out a strew of colorful phrases from various languages as I worked. It helped a little.

I could see his eye roll without looking at the screen. “Incredible, you can speak thirty-seven languages because you’re a spoiled mentor’s favorite. I know. I’ve had to put up with you for years. It’s a good thing- WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

I whipped around to face him, enjoying the panicked expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Did you for some reason think that the top student of the generation couldn’t bypass your trifling security?”

“Imberia’Yalim, what in Beetlejuice’s name did you do?!” He screamed again, trying desperately on his own keyboard to reverse my hacking. I had successfully managed to postpone the ghost dust from being released for seven minutes. Now while he was distracted trying to fix that…

“You’re still going to crash!” Lar yelled. “You’re still going to crash land on Earth and you won’t survive!”

“Au contraire.” I stepped away from my keyboard and glanced out the window. Earth was rapidly coming up to meet me. I hoped I’d gotten the coordinates right.

“You changed the crash location?” Lar asked in disbelief. His pale face became transparent as it quickly morphed to fury. “Yalim, I hate you!”

“Careful with those strong emotions, Weslai. You wouldn’t want to come off as human.”

He solidified and glared at me through the screen. “Mark my words, Imberia’Yalim. I will find you. I will get rid of you forever.”

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. “The chances of that are unlikely. You never could best me. Your entire plan was based on self-pity and envy. Since I don’t know the feeling, tell me. How does it feel to fail?”

Lar growled. “You-”

In one fluid motion, I snapped out my gun and shot at the screen. It flickered to black and dissipated.

“Good riddance.” I mumbled while looking at the screen. I couldn’t see the entire United States anymore, but the crash course definitely wasn’t above Kansas anymore. Through the stress, I bit my lip so hard that blood came. My hand carelessly wiped it away, spilling the white liquid on the floor.

“Please, please!” I muttered. “Recalibrate!”

Finally, I could spot the blue waters of Earth right below me. “Yes!” Then I heard the hiss of the space shuttle releasing ghost dust. “No!”

I glanced out the window, watching as the dust flew from my ship. It was too late. Some of the humans in this area would be affected.

Forget about the humans. It wasn’t too late for me to survive.

It was time. I ran to the bay doors, easily opening them with my tag this time. Maybe Lar had given up.

I stared at the dark blue waters my ship was rapidly approaching.

I hated being rash. I hated not being given options and time to think about the best one.

Regardless, I leaped.

—

Idfk if people will even see this but if you do uhhh please tell me if you like it? I do not accept constructive criticism though, I am a sensitive child. Everything related to this story will be tagged #staralise

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whumpzone · 4 years

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 7

look at me smashing out chapter 7 ahead of schedule !! but I’m gonna reiterate again that uni is starting up, so updates may begin to slow down. with that said, please enjoy!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, general violence, mentions of self-harm (but not actual), dehumanisation

And then Kasia would come again. He seemed to always know when Master was out of the house. It was no different today.

"Hello, pet," Kasia said. Rowe didn’t look up, instead sliding silently to his knees. Kasia had him well taught already. "You may speak, this time."

"Thank you, sir." Rowe’s stomach felt hollow with fright. Every time Kasia appeared he was unprepared. He always seemed to arrive just as Rowe had started feeling calm. Maybe even settled. But the minute he heard that voice he felt like he’d just been caught doing something awful. And this was all so wrong! This wasn’t his Master; he shouldn’t be grovelling like this. He was Master Tomas’s property. It went against all of Rowe’s training to let Kasia treat him like his Pet.

But… what could he do?

The gentle rattle of metal brought Rowe back. He mechanically pulled his t-shirt off and didn’t resist as Kasia put the handcuffs on, securing his hands in front of him, hanging between his hip bones.

"Tight enough?"

This was a game. Rowe could win this one. Kasia played it every time. "No, sir. Not yet." He gritted his teeth as the cuffs ground deeper into his wrists, hissing quietly, but it was certainly better than making Kasia angry.

"How are things going with Tomas? Are you being good for him?"

This was a game Rowe couldn’t win. "I- I am b-being good."

"Mm?"

"I’m being good," he said, clearer. "H-he’s gone out for grocer-"

A smack on the head made his thoughts whirl. "He?"

"M-master! Master To-omas, Master Tomas h-as gone out for groceries."

Another smack. "Stop panicking. You’re so damn annoying. And yeah, I know. He told me he always goes the same time each week so you won’t freak out so much. So lucky for you, he hasn’t twigged that it’s not him leaving that gets you messed up, so much as it’s me coming over. But-"

Kasia grabbed Rowe’s chin and hauled him to his feet. "You’re still giving him trouble. All your trembles and flinches and-" He flung a hand at Rowe’s face, stopping a hair’s breadth from his healing nose. Rowe couldn’t help but jerk away with a gasp. "-all that. So you see? You’re not being good. You’re being a fucking pain."

"I’m s-sorry-"

"No you’re not," Kasia said, matter-of-factly. "But you will be."

The knife trailed casually along Rowe’s collarbone. Tiny threads of blood ran down his chest, which was rising and falling normally. His back was perfectly straight against the chair.

"That’s good. Stay nice and calm for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Tomas needs a Pet that doesn’t cry all the time. You don’t want to stress your Master out, do you?"

"N-no, sir, no."

Kasia dragged the knife along to Rowe’s shoulder, digging it in deeper as he cut down his arm. Rowe focused on being blank, and obedient, and keeping his breathing calm, and not making any noise, and not pulling a face, and definitely not crying. He could do this. The knife was momentarily taken away from his skin, leaving the cut to fill itself up with blood.

"Does it hurt, pet?"

"That doesn’t matter, sir."

"Good boy."

Kasia kept his eyes firmly on Rowe’s face and slashed his forearm without warning, watching for any sign of pain or fear. Rowe steeled himself. He wouldn’t give it to him. He let the adrenaline of the sudden cut overcome the pain.

Kasia frowned, clearly hoping that Rowe would falter. He swung the knife viciously along Rowe’s bicep, then another above his bellybutton, then another frighteningly close to his neck- but Rowe was being good-, then another diagonally across his chest. Kasia stood, the knife hanging by his side, taking heavy breaths as he watched Rowe. By now, blood was running down Rowe’s upper body in rivulets, seeping into the waistband on his shorts and dripping off the end of his fingertips.

"You look creepy."

Somehow, this hurt more than being told he looked ugly, like Kasia usually did. "I’m sorry, sir."

Rowe felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed, and a new prickle of fear took over him. He couldn’t cry, he’d made it this far, Kasia couldn’t see him cry. He knew being obedient wasn’t enough to earn him any mercy- Pets were made to take pain, they didn’t deserve pity. He had to be perfect, and then maybe he’d only be hurt a little bit. He took a breath, and the way it hitched made his heart sink.

"What’s this?" Rowe screwed his eyes shut and bowed his head, but Kasia delicately placed the bloody knife under Rowe’s chin and lifted his face up. "Look at me, pet."

When Rowe opened his eyes all he could see were watery shapes- a blink sent tears running down his cheeks. Kasia clicked his tongue. "I’m disappointed."

Rowe whimpered. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

This man wasn’t even his owner, but displeasing him meant more pain. Sure enough, Kasia dug the knife into Rowe’s thigh, slowly pulling it down until he reached his knee. The cut was perfectly straight. Rowe braced himself as Kasia lifted the knife, but he wasn’t prepared for it to nudge itself back into his leg, starting at the top of the cut and following it down, pressing a little deeper.

"You want forgiveness?" Kasia asked calmly.

Rowe’s breathing was becoming desperate, and he couldn’t suppress a whine as he opened his mouth to speak. "Hh- yes, yes, please-"

"Beg for it then. Be a good pet and beg."

"Please," Rowe gasped. This felt all too familiar. "Please, sir, s-sir, I’m s-sorry-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not good enough."

"I’m so-sorry f-for being such a b…bad pet! I’m sorry f-for crying," Rowe whimpered as the knife started its journey down the cut again. The pain made his limbs shake, only aggravating the cut further. "Agh- please!"

"Please- sir- I know I’m worthless, I- ah! B-B-But I w-want to be better- so please- f-forgive me…"

"And?"

"And- I, I, uh- agh!" Rowe cried out as the knife twisted in his leg, forcing his words out faster, "Ah, ah, th-thank you, sir, thank you f-for teaching me, I n-needed this, I’m- ah! I’m grateful!"

The knife stopped, but Kasia stayed silent, so Rowe continued. "I’ll b-be good, I’ll be quiet, I w-w-won’t inconvenience Master Tomas, so tha-ank you, thank you sir, th-this is what I deserve as a pet…"

He chanced a glance at Kasia’s face as he pulled the blade away. He was looking at his watch, frowning. "Time for me to go."

Rowe whimpered as Kasia moved around the unclip the handcuffs. Please, at least tell me that was good, tell me I did it right, tell me I begged the way you wanted, tell me I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…

…

The house smelt strongly of bleach. Tomas winced, kicking his shoes off in the entrance. "Only me, Rowe!" he called. Not five seconds later there was a small figure kneeling at his feet, forehead to the floor.

"Welcome back, Master."

"Hey pal. Up you get, I need your help with the shopping."

As the pair set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Tomas wrinkled his nose again. "What have you been doing in here?"

Rowe looked up with frightened eyes. He hates being questioned, mused Tomas. Always thinks he’s done something wrong. "I- I was cleaning the furniture, Master. I th-thought it might please you."

"It does," he reassured. "It smells very fresh in here. And since you cleaned it, you might as well get to enjoy it, hm?"

"My…my place is at my Master’s f-"

"I know," Tomas held up a hand to stop him. "I’m not testing you. But a lot of pets are allowed on furniture." Well, my mate lets her dog up on the sofa. That’s close enough, right?

"O-oh, really, Master?" Rowe asked with a glint of hope, before freezing up again, "I mean! I’m n-not questioning you, Master, I d-d-didn’t mean that!"

"It’s okay. Yes, really. You don’t need to ask for permission- from now on, you’re allowed, okay?"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, let’s unload all this food, yeah?"

Tomas rummaged in one of the bags, bringing out a packet of cheese. He handed it to Rowe, underlining a word with his finger. "What does this say? Take your time."

Rowe’s lips moved silently as he sounded out the letters. "Ch…cheddar."

"Well done! That was so good! Want to try another?"

"Yes please, Master."

"Good! Now, I’ve got one I need to write down. It’s a whole sentence, but I think you’re ready."

Tomas looked back at the shopping. What was easy to read? What was pronounced phonetically? He didn’t worry that Rowe obviously already knew what everything was called- he was so keen to learn properly he wouldn’t dare lie. Eventually he handed him a small spice jar.

"Puh- ah- pap- r…rika. Ah! Paprika?"

Tomas smiled as he quickly scribbled the words on the side of the paper bag, keeping his handwriting neat and even.

"Try that."

Rowe brushed his hair out of his face and leant in. "My name is Rowe. Hello, Tomas."

"Hello, Rowe!"

Rowe took a step back with a jolt, looking up at him uncertainly. "I- I- I didn’t mean to- to address you w-without your proper title, Master."

"And yet you just did."

Rowe quaked, shrinking away from him, but Tomas forced himself to be steadfast. Come on Rowe, you can do this.

"You were. You’re being good. You’re still being good."

"I’m sorry! I d-didn’t- I didn’t me-mean to, I w-was doing what y-y-you asked Master…"

"Th-then…"

"Try saying my name again."

"T- T- T… I can’t," Rowe whispered, "I d-d-don’t want to be hit."

"I won’t hit you. It’s okay. I’m not your old master."

"I w-was trained to always address my Master properly."

"I know," soothed Tomas, not stopping to think too hard on what Rowe’s ‘training’ entailed, "I know being here is confusing. Can you just try, one more time?"

"T- Tomas…" he forced out, ducking his head and bracing himself. Tomas reached out and Rowe flinched, violently, before seeming to catch himself and force himself to stay still. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling, even as Tomas gently rested his hand on the side of Rowe’s head, rubbing his thumb up and down. It took a few seconds, but Rowe leaned into the touch, his breathing coming under control again.

"There, that was really good. Well done, Rowe. I know that was hard for you."

"Master?"

"It’s okay, it’s okay. We can work on that. For now, I think your reading is coming along just fine. I’m very happy with you."

"You… you are?"

"Mmhm. Now, let’s finish putting this stuff away. I have some work to get on with."

Tomas’s smile vanished as he closed the office door. He hadn’t been imagining it. He’d kept calm, and casual, but there were definitely cuts on Rowe that hadn’t been there when he left. They were hard to miss, long searing red slices poking out from his white t-shirt and the bottom of his shorts.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on a curl by his ear. What to do, what to do? How had he got those?

He remembered a horror film he’d seen once where a woman had lived in captivity for so long that she kept harming herself even after she was freed, because living without constant pain was too unnatural for her. Had Rowe given himself those cuts? Had he- Tomas’s eyes widened- had he also broken his own nose? Was he that desperate for punishment that he was willing to punish himself?

His panic rose as he realised Rowe could be doing that right now. What was he thinking, making Rowe call him by his name? It was far too early for that, he was still learning it was okay to sit on the damn sofa, Christ alive Tomas.

He rushed back downstairs to keep an eye on Rowe. He had to figure out a way to stop this.

#tomas and rowe #whump #whump fic #pet whump #dehumanisation #master/pet #pet whumpee #begging #aftermath of torture

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