#past abuse

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 1

Part 2, Ao3

Daniel Nightingale, ex Fenton, moves to Gotham for a fresh start. It's next to his friends, it's so very different from Amity Park, and Lady Gotham has promised her Knights will protect him. The world as he knew it has changed, and no longer has a place as a combat hero. Not when he's more likely to flinch than to dodge, not when the sight of a knife is enough to force him back to a time and a place he never wanted to see again. In an attempt to adapt, Danny turns to being a specialized hero-medic; his sole focus is helping and evacuating, not fighting. Except that no one told him Death Energy had the same reading to Geiger counters as gamma radiation. It isn't, but apparently Geiger counters can't tell the difference.

Danny Nightingale plopped down on his new couch, taking a moment to breathe in that new apartment smell. It was a pleasant, three bedroom apartment in a relatively nice area of Gotham. 

Well, nice for ghosts. Specifically, the sheer amount of emotions around the place, both past and present, made it an ideal spot for a healing ghost to situate himself.

Danny felt that the more important point was that he finally had a place to himself. 

He was tired of everyone coddling him, acting like he was going to break if he was even touched wrong. But luckily, Gotham was so far away from any kind of city his family would want to visit that he was free to dodge their nannying.

When he had woken up from the…Accident, it was to a political shitstorm; the Infinite Realms had been gearing up for war, and surprisingly Dan had been the only thing stopping them. The negotiations between dimensions had been a nightmare, especially with the sheer amount of effort it took to keep the Justice League’s nose out of his business, but it had been worth it.

Ghosts were considered sapient entities, were acknowledged to be from essentially a different country/dimension, and the ghosts that lived on Earth and had been negatively affected by the laws that were in place were entitled to compensation for the violation to their persons.

Added bonus, Danny could stay.

The first place he had chosen had been Gotham; it was close to Sam and Tucker, and had just the right dosage of occult to meet Frostbite’s strict ecto-therapy regimen.

That, and Lady Gotham had extended an invitation.

The move had been insane, for multiple reasons.

Vlad had insisted on coming along, something about verifying that Danny wasn’t about to live in a hovel. 

Vlad actually caring-in his own way-was still so weird to Danny.

But at least it had been entertaining; every single time Vlad had stepped out of the car to get something from the gas stations, he kept getting mugged.

Another headache was the fact that, on moving day alone, there were three separate rogue attacks, and traffic had backed up so badly Danny was almost convinced to blow his cover and just fucking fly to his new place.

Which would be the last thing Dan needed-someone with his powers cropping up in a city on the other side of the country. Dan had enough on his plate with his whole…thing he’d decided on doing; the world as a whole declaring that his natural born nemesis was opposite sides of the country would throw a wrench in his rehabilitation.

The man had enough problems.

Like Danny had enough problems, but strangely only when Vlad was around. 

The car Vlad had been driving had hit every single pothole and broken both axles, and overall Danny had the sense that Vlad should probably have never set foot in the city.

Honestly, the absolute second Vlad had left the move had gone much smoother.

Like, Danny had still had to pay the movers extra for the rogue attacks, vicinity to crimes (thanks Vlad for getting mugged so often that the muggers just started taking clothing items), and traffic; but after his Godfather had left it had been done in about two hours flat.

Did he still have to unbox his belongings? Yes. Was he going to do that at that particular moment?

Danny flopped sideways and brought his cell phone up to his face.

No. No, he was not.

He was going to take a breather, fall asleep on his new couch, read the news and watch some random memes, and enjoy his Restitution Money.

Danny had only been scrolling on his phone for two minutes when he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Danny woke up to the sounds of muffled screams.

“Well that’s never good,” He muttered as he tried to roll over. He landed on the floor instead.

Right.

He hadn’t put the bed together yet.

Groaning, Danny pushed himself up for the purpose of hunting down where he’d put his poptarts. Only once he’d opened a box and started digging through it did he realize that the muffled screams were not coming from his definitely dead phone.

They were coming from outside.

Danny tripped over his feet as he bolted for the window, pressing his face against the glass as he stared down at the streets in disbelief.

The streets were filled with a green, noxious gas. People collapsed onto the ground only to scream and claw at their own faces. Some were attacking others, and anyone who left to assist had gas masks on.

Not that the masks did much good, considering the citizens who had been dosed would freak out and rip it off of them.

Batman and Red Hood were on scene, but they were so focused on cornering and catching the freak in the scarecrow costume that the only one able to assist the civilians was Robin. Unfortunately, as well trained as Robin was, there were too many.

Robin was doing the best he could, Danny could see that, but he was clearly over-burdened and needed assistance. 

Danny…was appalled. This was the most ineffective rogue fight he’d ever witnessed.

When he’d been in charge of Amity, his citizens had only rarely been caught in the crossfire, and he never had a casualty. But here was one of the Big Leaguers and his cohorts, and they couldn’t arrange for the civilians to be treated or get to safety.

Danny, with no means to protect himself and unsure of how the gas would effect him, a halfa, could only watch from the window of his sixth story apartment.

Twenty minutes.

It had taken Batman and Red Hood twenty minutes to take down Scarecrow.

Danny had watched the whole thing.

Twenty minutes, thirty-two injured, nine dead, twelve critically injured.

And Danny, tied by the red tape of bureaucracy and his own trauma, hadn’t been able to do anything.

~~~~~~

A day later, full of unpacking and getting his apartment set up while he ignored the sounds of the emergency workers outside his window, Danny couldn’t stop seeing the attack.

There was so much room for improvement, but Batman apparently didn’t have anyone specifically trained in only defense and evacuation.

Danny had been so, so lucky for Sam and Tucker and Jazz. They had tag-teamed it; one of them would help him fight, the other two would evacuate civilians.

Batman was good at what he did, Danny could not deny that.

But there was room for improvement that was just…there. It was right there. 

Danny couldn’t offer his services as Phantom. He couldn’t. He just…every time he thought about donning his old hero moniker, he’d start remembering.

If he started remembering, he became useless until he was able to remember that he was still alive.

And being a combatant, in and of itself, was highly…dissatisfying. 

No sleep, constant injuries, threat of exposure hanging over his head; Danny’d had enough in high school. He had a whole life separate from that, in a city so big and problematic that just donating used clothes was enough to save someone’s life.

He was doing better. He could finally sleep without nightmares, people reaching out to touch him didn’t make him flinch, and he was away from a town of people who had made his childhood a living hell even before he’d had the Accident.

He refused to ask Dan to step in; the man was needed where he was, and Danny couldn’t drag away a teacher from his students.

Ellie was in college, and Danny wasn’t about to interrupt her education to drag her into the vigilante lifestyle she never even showed real interest in.

On top of his many, many other reasons for just not wanting to get into fights anymore.

Instead he took his frustrations out on kneading the dough on his counter.

His phone buzzed.

      Ellie       Omggggggggggg I don’t know what’s so hard???       Just bully Dan into doing it!

Danny snorted and allowed his hands to go intangible, the dough stuck to his fingers sliding back onto the counter, before he touched his phone to reply.

      Danny       Omggggggggg I literally can’t do that       P sure ur the only one who can bully him       He’s a pushover but only 4 u

He set his phone down and continued stress-baking. Ellie would take a bit to respond, since she wasn’t even supposed to have her phone on her at work.

But apparently Ellie had decided that she did not care.

      Ellie       Lies and slander       He’s scared of me I just know it       Also imma kill my customers

      Danny       Don’t commit murder        Diplomatic immunity only goes so far       I don’t need an inter-dimensional incident

      Danny       Ellie?       Ellie no       Don’t actually kill a human

      Ellie       This dude won’t get off my call       He’s so annoying danny I gotta       I       I’m gonna do a ring

      Danny       Ellie NO

      Ellie       Ellie yes brb

Ellie stopped responding after that, and Danny groaned.

She was absolutely going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

~~~~~~

Ellie was going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

But it wasn’t her fault!

The stupid caller-Kent or whatever-was being a total ass!

“Sir,” she tried, one last time, “I cannot assist you with this matter. Either you let me transfer you to someone who can, or I’m going to crawl through this phone and kick your ass.”

“Tt. Even if you were a meta capable of such a feat, I highly doubt you could best me in combat.”

“I warned you.”

Ellie let her form fall away, distantly hearing the screams of her coworkers, and traveled through the phone connection.

Her arm burst from the cell phones ear piece and clocked someone across the face. Then she let the rest of herself crawl through, as eldritch as she could make it without actually driving anyone insane.

There was a scream of terror on her right, but she only had eyes for the tanned asshole in front of her with the bloody nose.

Then she let loose on him.

Surprisingly, he managed to block most of her attacks once he came to his senses.

Most of them.

She just started cheating after that and phasing through his hands to connect to his body.

There was a brief moment where the terrified one to her right tried to intervene, but both she and the Kevin kicked him in the face with a joint “Stay out of this!”.

He stayed out of it.

After fifteen minutes of rough-housing, which was what it had definitely turned into, Ellie wiped the blood away from her nose and held out her hand to the man she was sitting on.

“That was a nice fight; the names Ellie.”

The man paused, hesitated…and shook her hand.

“It was admirable. I am Damian.”

“Um…” Ellie and Damian both turned to look at the other man in the room, a blue eyed black haired carbon copy of her brother almost. But like, younger.

“I’m Jon. You kick pretty hard!”

“Thanks! Well I am definitely fired. What was the real reason for calling, anyways?”

Damian sat up and forced Ellie to fall off of him, his face slowly turning red.

“I didn’t realize that my dad’s card would get charged when I made an app store purchase,” Jon admitted quietly, “Damian was trying to annoy customer service into canceling the transaction so dad wouldn’t find out.”

Ellie wheezed from her spot on the ground, laughing harder when Damian turned and left the room in a huff.

“So…is that something you could go back and-?”

“You’re so fucked my dude.”

~~~~~~

Danny checked his care package while he waited for the Arkham guards to finish verifying his visitation rights.

Muffins? Check. Pretzels? Check. Cookies? Check. Donuts? Check. Fudge? No.

Danny still hadn’t been able to make himself use his father’s recipe.

He wasn’t sure when he would be able to.

It looked like when the guards had checked everything for escape tools they hadn’t eaten anything.

Danny felt strangely offended by that.

“Alright, you’re clear. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Danny sighed, walking away from the last semblance of normalcy and into what could only be described as hell for the mentally stable.

Arkham was a place that radiated the pull to help, the pull to heal, but was overrun by lifetimes of grudges nothing short of burning the place down would ever be able to fix.

It was, unfortunately, the only place capable of holding his parents.

Who he could hear as they were led to the visitation rooms.

“Danny!” Maddie Fenton cried, attempting to throw herself at him. The chain that was held by her accompanying guards, however, yanked her back.

“Dann-o!” Jack cried as he was hauled through the other door, power-dampening cuffs active. He had far too many guards to attempt to launch forward; after he’d broken four walls, Arkham had stopped taking chances.

“Hey mom, hey dad,” Danny said weakly, placing the care package on the table, “Everything is even, so you should both get the same amount.”

“Aw, our baby boy is so considerate!” Maddie cooed, reaching forward and pinching Danny’s cheek before the guards could tug her back out of range.

“So, I just wanted to know how you guys were settling in-“

“Have you seen any ghosts in Gotham, Dann-o?”

Danny took a deep breath through his nose.

“It doesn’t matter if I did or did not, dad; they’re a protected species with rights now.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Maddie laughed, already digging into the package and pulling out a pretzel, “So what if the government fell for their acting? You know, when we caught Phantom-“

“-When you caught Phantom, you nearly started an inter-dimensional war,” Danny cut in, hiding his shaking fists under the table.

Maddie leveled him with her most disappointed look, while Jack laughed merrily.

“Come on, Dann-o, you fell for it’s rambling too? Ah, well. We found out so much when it turned into that weird jewel-“

“-When you mortally wounded the King of an entire Dimension, almost forever scarring relations between this one and that one-“

“-Young man, we really are happy to see you, but if you’re just going to quote ghost propaganda at us-“

“-It isn’t propaganda, you guys just don’t listen-“

“-Dann-o, if you’re possessed by ectoplasmic scum, just blink twice-“

Danny stood up, chair clattering to the ground, and turned for the exit.

“…I’ll come again in two weeks. Please actually talk to your doctors and at least try to get better.”

He couldn’t do it. He thought he could, but he just. He couldn’t.

Every time they spoke about ghosts, he was back in the lab, strapped to a metal table, begging them to stop, refusing to turn human regardless of how hard his body fought to.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Not because he thought it would get worse, but because if he had turned human during their…experiments, he would have died.

Humans could not survive what had been done to him.

He ignored their yelling and made his way out of Arkham, dodging the pitying looks from the workers and guards.

He didn’t remember getting on the subway. He didn’t recall anything about his walk through Park Row.

He only came back to himself far after the sun had set, curled up in the bathtub, eyes dry and tired from watching the door.

~~~~~~

Jazz gently tapped Dan’s boots as she walked towards the kitchen, reminding him that shoes were not allowed on the coffee table.

The large man grumbled but acquiesced.

“So how are the kids?” Jazz asked over her shoulder, flipping the oven light on to check on the roast hidden inside.

“There’s a new upstart in Iowa, calls himself Jupiter. Can’t be older than nine, one of the biggest crybabies I’ve ever had to train.”

Jazz snorted.

“Are we basing this off of their first look at you, or just how they behave in general?”

Dan didn’t answer.

Jazz read between the lines and stifled a laugh.

Little Jupiter had definitely cried upon seeing Dan.

“Did you go see Lian, then?”

“Fuck yeah I saw Lian! She’s so big, no wonder I couldn’t find her in the Realms!”

Jazz listened to Dan wax poetic about Roy’s daughter, letting him get it off his chest. After Lian had died, Dan had been as inconsolable as was possible for the emotionally stunted man. He’d spent countless hours in the Infinite Realms, searching for her, only to return heartbroken that he couldn’t find her.

He was convinced she was so doused with ecto-contamination due to her exposure to him that she would absolutely become a ghost.

But when she’d passed, there hadn’t been a trace of one. No matter how hard he’d searched, he’d never found her.

Because apparently, she’d been alive.

“-Anyways, how’s the twerp doing?”

Jazz tuned back in.

“Sorry?”

“Little me. How’s he doin?”

“Danny’s as tall as you are, Dan.”

Dan appeared at her side and phased his hand through the oven to swipe some roast.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m older. He okay?”

Jazz shrugged.

“He’s…awake. Well enough to be on his own.”

“Fucked up he stays in the same town as Maddie and Jack.”

Jazz shrugged again, a little more helplessly.

“How he chooses to heal is up to him, Dan.”

“He shouldn’t be near them,” Dan growled, causing some of the silverware to vibrate.

Jazz tensed and mentally prepared herself for the exact same argument that had brought Dan to her doorstep.

“Dan-“

“A four year coma, Jazz.”

“-It’s his choice, Dan.”

“They made him retreat into his core.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t be anywhere near them!”

“I know!” Jazz shouted, whirling on him, shoulders heaving as she felt her eyes glare a bright luminescent green.

They stared at each other, until ultimately Jazz won again, and Dan looked away.

“I know,” Jazz said, quieter, pulling out her phone to check it one more time, “I know, but the world has changed so much since he went down, and if this is how he wants to explore it then I won’t stop him.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, until the oven let out an obnoxious tune. No one moved.

“…Roast is done,” Dan said helpfully.

Jazz ignored him, eyes on the screen of her phone.

“Hey.”

She reread what Danny had sent her.

“Hey, Jazz-”

“I need to talk to Danny,” she muttered, picking up the oven mitts and tossing them at Dan as she walked towards her bedroom.

After she shut the door quietly behind her, she called her little brother.

The phone didn’t even complete the first ring before he picked up.

“Danny, are you alright?” She knew that he knew going to see their parents had been a terrible idea, and pointing that out would do no one any good.

So instead she focused on him.

“I don’t think so,” Danny said, his voice much smaller than it had any right to be.

Jazz tamped down on her instinctive need to ask a million questions and sat down on her bed instead.

“That’s fine, Danny; it’s perfectly okay to not be okay. Do you need to me to talk?”

“Yes.”

So Jazz did.

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix

Prompts that inspired this entire piece one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Ages are as follows; Dan (31), Jazz (23), Danny (21), Tucker (21), Sam(21), Ellie (19) Bruce (48), Dick (33), Barbara (32), Jason (26), Cass (26), Tim (24), Steph (24), Duke (21), Damian (17) Clark (47), Lois (45), Conner (26), Jon (20) Alfred (Deceased/immortal)

I'm trying a different method of writing, so this will be a bit different. Mostly because for this particular story I'm world-building alongside it.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #in the shadow of speculation #past abuse #past torture #phanfic #healing through helping others #long post

[sqquidzz]

"As Long as I'm Here, No One Can Hurt You."

Sanemi x Child!Reader (PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP)

Summary: Sanemi had found you while he was on a mission chasing a demon, covered in the blood of your own family and crying in your house all alone. He decided to "adopt" you and give you a new home.

Tags: Fluff, slight gore in backstory, Sanemi is a good parent, trauma, PTSD, slight mentions of past abuse, soft Sanemi, protective Sanemi, Y/N reminds Sanemi of Genya, loss of parents, adopting, some sadness, swearing, insults (but Sanemi doesn't really mean it) etc.

A/N: Hello readers! I'm so sorry to those following me that I haven't posted as often as I probably should, I just got writers block and lost all my motivation and I forgot to post something for you guys. I hope this will make up for it. I have not written fluff yet, so I'm hoping you guys will have some improvements for me if there are any. And also, thank you to those who are following me, I really appreciate it! About the story now, PLEASE do NOT read this as a sexual relationship, this is only a PLATONIC relationship. But anyways, enjoy!

"Get back here, you brat!"

Sanemi was currently chasing you around the house. After a long year of going on missions, Sanemi finally had a break day. Of course, meaning that he could spend that day taking care of you. And coming back to the scene before us, Sanemi swerves around tables and chairs, trying to get you to get back into your room. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, you were also wearing no clothes.

"Nanana Boo Boo!" you giggle as he dives to catch you, but you jump out of the way, blowing a raspberry at his face, snickering as you run away once again and hide, leaving Sanemi wheezing on the floor from chasing you around.

"You better get back into your room you piece of shit, or else I'll kill you!" Sanemi barks as he rises from the floor, getting up and dusting his pants before searching for you.

"Oi, you better not be fooling around my room you little fuck!" Sanemi yells as he searches your room and comes out empty handed.

However, as he approaches his room, he hears quiet sobs through the closed door. Now Sanemi is getting a little concerned.

"Y/N...?" he calls out gently as he opens the door, the door creaking slightly. He ends up finding you on the opposite side of his bed, curled up into a ball, face in your knees as you cry silently, sobs racking your small frame.

"Hey buddy... what's wrong?" Sanemi asks quietly as he reaches out to you with his hand. But immediately after his hand makes contact with your back, you flinch away, head shooting out of your knees as you look wildly around you as if your afraid the world is hunting you.

"Whoa, I'm not gonna hurt you, see?" Sanemi whispers and holds his hands out.

You slightly calm down at the gesture, but your expression is still wary, still feeling like Sanemi was tricking you.

"You wanna tell me why your crying?" Sanemi asks gently as he attempts to hold your hand again. This time, you don't flinch back, sniffling quietly as you stop crying.

"I- I got scared," you whisper out, "I knew you wouldn't hurt me.... but I couldn't help thinking about what they did to me."

Now Sanemi was confused. Who were you talking about? Who did what to you?

"What do you mean, pumpkin?" Sanemi asks. He always used pet names with you, sometimes they would be insulting, but most of the times, he would call you buddy, pumpkin, things like that that made you feel like he really cared.

"M-my parents used to do things to me," you sniffle, "They always said that it was for the best and I believed them for a while. But what they did hurt so much." You burry your face into your knees again, shoulders shaking from newly sprung tears.

Now Sanemi understood.

He had found you as a baby after your parents had been slaughtered in your house. He decided to take you in himself since he didn't want you to end up being an orphan forever or getting adopted by a bad family (bless his kind heart 😭)

However, he had never thought to ask about your past. He just assumed that you had grown up with a normal family that loved and cared for you. Oh how he was wrong.

"Y-your parents...?" Sanemi whispers as you continue to sob out of fear and grief that your parents had in fact abused you and had neglected your well-being entirely.

By now Sanemi was shaking with fury, but not at you. He was shocked. How could someone hurt someone so kind and joyful? How could they rob you of your happiness?

Sanemi took a deep breath. Now is not the time to get violent.

Instead of asking any further about your past, Sanemi simply wraps his arms around you in firm but loving embrace and you bury your head into his shoulder, letting out all of the tears that you held in for so long.

"It's okay Y/N. You safe with me. As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you," he coos, rubbing your back to sooth you and calm you.

After a few minutes, you calm down, finally running out of tears to shed and you fall asleep in Sanemi's warm embrace.

He smiles down at you, and as he gazes at you, a memory pops into his head

---

"Nemi! Nemi!"

"W-what is it?" Sanemi asks, rubbing his eyes, clearing his vision to reveal Genya.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Genya asks nervously, "I had a nightmare and I'm really scared."

Sanemi blinks for a moment, then smiles softly and throws his blanket to the side.

"C'mere," Sanemi sighs, and Genya immediately jumps into his embrace, burying his face into his chest. "Don't worry Genya, as long as I'm hear, no one can hurt you.' (sound familiar?)

---

A tear runs down Sanemi's cheek.

He hadn't realized until now how much you reminded him of Genya when he was younger. Cheerful, determined, kind. And especially the fact that you love to sleep. (pointer to those manga readers out there)

Sanemi picks you up in his arms, tucking you into bed and watches as you snuggle the blankets closer, savoring their warmth.

He slowly climbs into bed next to you as to not wake you up, and holding you close, he too, falls fast asleep.

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi fluff #slight angst #child abuse #past abuse #fluff #kny #kny x reader #kid reader #parent Sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi x reader #kinda #sanemi x y/n #fatherhood #parent issues #demon slayer

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 1: this is a gift

Find the masterlist here!

W/C: 2,700

Over the course of his unnaturally long life, Astarion had experienced many things. However, he couldn’t recall ever having had the displeasure of acting with such altruistic compassion before now. It was almost as if Cazador himself had thought up an entertaining new way to torture him, forcing him to don a mask of tight-lipped humility to maintain his facade of belonging.

One thing was made abundantly clear from the start of this journey: Astarion did not belong among this group of would-be heroes. His first taste of freedom in two hundred years, consistently squandered by the incessantly self-sacrificing actions of his traveling companions. He found himself in a constant state of exasperation these days, an eye-roll or a scoff away from striking out on his own, for better or worse. 

No matter how uncomfortable a role it was to play, far be it from him to turn down the objective safety in numbers that his companions provided him with, however unwittingly. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to playing uncomfortable roles for the sake of his survival. Were they ever to find out just what it was they were traveling with, they’d surely turn him out in an instant, if not stake him outright. Neither being vulnerable to recapture by Cazador nor the finality of death quite tickled Astarion’s fancy, so he kept his head down and the worst of his sarcastic quips to himself in hopes that he would remain relatively safe from prying eyes - or more accurately, prying thoughts.

And it worked - for the most part. The gith and the cleric were too busy quarreling amongst each other to pay him any heed, and the warlock was all too consumed by his loathing of his contracted owner. The wizard, while clearly educated and well-read, didn’t seem to have a perceptive bone in his body if the way he carried on was anything to go off of. Astarion could swear that listening to him speak was the closest he’d come to truly sleeping since he’d been turned. The tiefling woman, bless her infernal engine, had heart and brawn to spare, but had been less than fortunate in the intelligence department.

You, however, were far harder to read, and therefore far harder to trust. Not to say that he trusted his other companions, but he could at least trust that they remained steadfastly oblivious as to his true nature. He was never sure with you, occasionally catching a glimmer of something deeper in the warmth of your gaze when you exchanged pleasantries, or looking up from his book to find you staring at him from across the campfire, your pleasant voice lilting the harmonic accompaniment to the lyre in your arms. Your eyes held far too much keen interest for him to be comfortable, so he kept an especially safe distance from you.

At least, he tried to.

As the days wore on and the fights became more grueling, he found himself growing weary and bone-tired beyond what his typical nightly hunt could satiate. He felt sluggish and weak; stringing together rational and coherent thought had become burdensome. He could scarcely breathe in the company of his companions without feeling overwhelmed by the sheer might of his bloodlust. Luckily, he’d mostly learned to ignore his bottomless hunger over the span of his enslavement, and whatever wasn’t held in the firm grip of his self-control was allayed by the fear of Cazador’s retribution.

The longer he spent away from Cazador, though, the more that fear shrunk alongside his waning self-control. The fact that he’d left his most recent kill, mangled and exsanguinated, in the middle of the path for his traveling party to stumble across was testament to his current lack of presence. Under different circumstances, its discovery could have been his death sentence. As it were, he only had to listen to the shocked and horrified exclamations of his companions, none of them the wiser that the beast in question capable of such a grisly and disturbing kill resided in their camp. For his part, Astarion remained steadfastly silent, watchful gaze leveled on the back of your head and fingers twitching toward his dagger.

After a quiet “hmm” and a shrug, you stood from the corpse of the boar and brushed your hands off. 

“Nothing to be done for it now. Best be on our way,” you said gravely. Astarion’s fingers stopped their twitching, and he released a silent breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

Later that night, as his companions sang and danced and made merry around the campfire, Astarion began to hatch a plan. An ill advised plan, mind, and not one that he was proud to have conjured up, but he was so hungry and could no longer ignore the mouth watering smell of the sentient life around him. All that was left was to pick his target and wait for the right opportunity to strike.

As he pretended to eat his bowl of stew that the wizard had prepared, he sorted through the list of his companions in his mind, weighing his options. Both the gith and the warlock were sure to kill him if they caught him in the act, so they were immediately discarded. The tiefling would melt his face right off if he got too close to her, which made her an impractical option. Something about the wizard smelled off, so naturally he was struck from the list. That left the cleric… and you.

Just as he was preparing to puzzle out the best option between the two, you waltzed past him with your gentle instrumental and sultry lilt, and he made the mistake of inhaling. His mouth practically watered at the smell of you: jasmine blossoms and orange peel and heady musk. Without any further thought, he had his vict- target. 

He shook his head warily, attempting to clear his disquieted thoughts like so many cobwebs from his mind, just as you turned to send a soft smile his direction. 

His insides twisted with the sharp discomfort of shame and he smiled back, taking care to keep from baring his fangs. He couldn’t tell if the vise grip of unease was of his own or his master’s making, but it was almost strong enough to make him reconsider. Almost. Then, his hunger returned to him full-force and all at once, and his resolve was strengthened. Once everyone else had reached the land of dreams, Astarion would have his first true taste of freedom: ‘the blood of a thinking creature’. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion volunteered to take first watch, so, mercifully, he was the only one awake. If he were capable of nervous sweats, the back and underarms of his shirt would be soaked through, his palms clammy and the curls at his forehead damp. One would think that being abducted by mindflayers would make the prospect of drinking his companions’ blood pale in comparison, but he found himself more terrified now than those handful of nights ago when he’d been snatched up and imprisoned on the Nautiloid. Perhaps it was the fear of Cazador’s wrath, when he inevitably found out Astarion wilfully disobeyed his cardinal order; perhaps it was the fear of losing control and hurting you, and then paying the price with his life.

Whatever the case, Astarion made a concerted effort to steel himself before proceeding with his plan. He crept from his post, silent as the grave with the practiced ease of a night stalker and crossed the camp to your tent, its flaps open to dispel some of the muggy summer air trapped within. The closer he got to his prize, to you, the further his wits were flung from him until he knelt at your side, salivating at the thrum of the pulse in your neck. He licked his lips and leaned in, intoxicated by the smell of you, fangs poised to puncture your carotid artery -

“You could ask, you know,” he felt more than heard you say. “It’s impolite to touch people without first gaining their consent.”

Astarion reeled back as if he’d been struck, a muffled curse escaping him as he hastily tried to retreat.

“Move any further and I’ll scream. I’d fancy a guess that you don’t want the whole camp to find you unwelcome in my tent, so I suggest you quit squirming away and explain yourself,” you grumbled, and though your voice painted a perfect picture of disenchantment, Astarion could see the way your body had drawn taut with adrenaline; you were prepared to fight your way out of this if necessary.

“No, no! It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he pleaded, voice just shy of frantic and hands held aloft in placation. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.” 

The shame returned to him at a near dizzying magnitude, his last words falling flat in defeat on a final exhale, sure to be his last.

You sat up, body still tense and prepared to strike if the need arose, and scrutinized him with narrowed eyes. To his surprise and immense relief, you only questioned him further.

“How long since you last killed someone? Days? Hours?” 

Though your voice held the edge of cold steel, it could not conceal the glint of curiosity in your gaze. Despite his better judgment, Astarion decided to tell you the truth, hoping to appeal to the bleeding heart of your empathy.

“I’ve never killed anyone! Well, not for food,” he sneered, then schooled his expression back into something non-threatening after remembering that he did not want to make his predicament worse.

“I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. But it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak.”

“Ah, so that was your dinner we found so carelessly discarded this morning,” you bit back.

He weighed his next words carefully after examining your body language, still finding you tense but sensing no fear.

To Hells with it, he thought.

“If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please,” he begged, eyes wide and round with desperation.

He watched in relative discomfiture as the tension drained from your posture, expression morphing to regard him with no small amount of pity as your tadpoles connected and you were granted a fleeting glimpse into his centuries of abuse and torment. It took all of his courage to not shut you out; he felt painfully flayed open and on display with what little you were able to glean from the brief brush of your minds. 

To your credit, you didn’t ask about what you’d seen.

“Why didn't you tell me, Astarion?” you whispered.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no,” he scoffed, then sighed, “More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

He held his breath again, daring to hope that you might actually be amenable to helping him.

“Hells. I do trust you, Astarion. Believe it or not, I do. Would have preferred you to just ask instead of having this uncomfortable confrontation in the wee hours, though,” you chuckled.

He almost couldn’t believe his luck, or perhaps it was your stupidity, and he waved a hand noncommittally in front of him.

“Does this mean…” he breathed, his nerves alight with something akin to elation.

“Yes, you may make a meal of me,” you sighed.

“Wonderful! Thank you, truly-” he began, abruptly cut off by the hand raised wordlessly to silence him.

“But you’d better not take a drop more than you need, or there won’t be a next time,” you finished with a resolute nod.

Astarion nearly balked at your words, simultaneously blessing and cursing whatever gods would listen for leaving something so preciously stupid as you alone in his company.

“Of course, darling. Not one drop more, on my honor,” he said, placing a hand over his undead heart.

You snorted inelegantly, “Right, honor. As if you have any of that, Rogue. How do you want me?”

“You wound me, my sweet. More to the point, how don’t I want you?” he drawled, playing up the flirty charm in an attempt to ease the stiffness of anxiety that had once again overcome you. 

However, it seemed to have opposite the desired effect, and he watched in disconcerted fascination as your hands balled into tight fists at your sides. You rhythmically unclenched and clenched your fists a few times before releasing a shaky exhale.

“Do you plan to bite me sometime before the sun rises or not? If you’ve changed your mind, I’d very much like to get some sleep before we have to spend another day meandering through this blasted forest, hunting down an impossible cure for our stowaways,” you huffed out.

“My apologies, do get comfortable,” Astarion mumbled as he scrambled to kneel at the edge of your bedroll once more. He brushed the wisps of your hair away from your neck, fingers trailing down the delicate column of your throat almost reverently. He wanted to savor this moment, this first.

“Will it hurt much?” he felt the rumble of your words through his fingertips.

“Not terribly, but it will be uncomfortable for a moment. I will try to be gentle,” he murmured back, steady gaze leveled with your apprehensive one.

“Get on with it, then,” you gritted out, turning your head to expose more of the tender flesh of your neck.

Astarion leaned in, once again overwhelmed by the smell of you in this close proximity, but no longer dogged by the feeling of malaise at what he was about to do. He gently dragged his fangs up the column of your throat, searching for your pulse point. He heard your quiet gasp and felt the slight shudder that ran through you, one of your hands flying up to nestle in the silvery curls at the nape of his neck and the other twisting in the furs of your bedroll. It was then that he struck.

The first splash of blood across his tongue was like the finest wine he’d ever tasted. He vaguely registered the sound of a groan, but whether it was yours or his, he wasn’t sure. Everything beyond your lifeblood spilling from the puncture wounds in your neck and his tongue lapping at it was hazy with his euphoria. He could taste the salty musk of your sweat coupled with the ferrous tang of your blood, the fleeting sweetness of your desire giving way to a deeper, more buttery contentment. 

He quickly lost himself in the act of drinking from you, gulping down great mouthfuls of your blood like a man having stumbled across an oasis after spending too many long nights parched in the desert. He drank deeply and greedily, rational thought all but gone as he slaked his bloodlust.

Eventually, he registered the bitter taste of your fear and felt the fingers buried in his curls tighten and pull.

“Astarion,” you garbled in warning, “that’s enough.”

Reluctantly, and with no small amount of effort, he pulled back. 

“That - that was amazing,” he mumbled in awe, tongue darting out to clean the blood from his lips and wiping up the droplets that spilled down his chin, only to lick his fingers. 

“And strangely intimate,” you laughed breathily.

“Indeed. My mind is finally clear. I feel strong, I feel… happy!” he breathed, voice full of wonderment. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you fight,” you whispered, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips.

“Shouldn’t take long,” he smirked back, “So many people need killing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.”

He stood and turned to exit, then thought better of it and paused at the mouth of your tent. He looked over his shoulder to find you seated upright, looking at him expectantly.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

He didn’t miss the way your face fell as he turned to continue out into the waiting darkness. This time, it was guilt that made his gut churn unpleasantly. As to why, though, he couldn’t say.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #tav #astarion pov #unnamed tav #no use of y/n #reader insert #afab tav #bard tav #trauma #angst #astarion needs a hug #past abuse #past torture #slow burn #the bite scene #au canon divergence

[halsinswhire]

It's going to be okay (sample)

Halsin x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Angst to fluff, past ass*ult, past abusive relationship, kinda unintentional self harm, Halsin is a big softy (yes this is a warning)

Summary: You tell Halsin part of your past when he finds you upset

Should I keep this going or start on a new idea?

Tears fill your eyes as you run into the forest away from everyone's prying eyes. You keep running until you find a spot far enough away from everyone where they won't hear your crying. As you stop and take in your surroundings you realize there is a beautiful pond not too far away. Walking towards the pond, tears now running down your face, you decide this is a good space to be alone. Sitting by the edge of the pond you finally let your sobs escape your throat into the open air. Not realizing exactly what you're doing, or registering the pain, you start to hit your thighs as hard as you can. "Why can't I get over this? When does it stop hurting so much?" You scream. The sound of a branch snaps you out of your trance-like state, and you turn around to see Halsin close behind you. He walks towards you slowly and sits down beside you. "I felt the need to check on you when you ran off, would you like to talk about what it is that's upsetting you?" He says. You think for a moment, 'should I tell him?', but decide against it. Shaking your head you say "no it's- it's silly I'll be fine. Just give me a moment." Halsin does not believe you for a moment, but decides not to push the matter yet, instead staying seated beside you in case you change your mind. "Nature's gifts sure are beautiful, sometimes I sit out here just to observe." Halsin says. You know he is just trying to distract you, but for now you allow it to work. "You've been to this spot before? It's beautiful." You say. Leaning your head against his shoulder you let out a long sigh. "My problems are not yours, they are mine to deal with." You say. " My love, let me be here for you. You can rely on me."

#Spotify #halsin x reader #bg3 fluff #bg3 #bg3 halsin #bg3 angst #halsin #halsin fluff #halsin angst #past abuse #mental health

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Two}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

Warning(s): Mentions Of Past Abuse, Abusive Ex, Confrontation, Drug Overdose Mention

Knocking at my door caused me to stir out of my sleep, I groan and sit up in bed. "Yes?" I call. "Morning, Y/n! Hurry can get dress please. We have a new guest staying at the hotel!" I could hear Charlie from the other side of my door, voice filled with excitement.

I raise an eyebrow. A new guest? Huh...Well, alright. I tell her I'll be down in a second before getting dressed. I leave my room and make my way through the halls. Angel had caught up with me, and joined me on the way down.

"What do you think of the new guest?" I ask him as we step into the elevator. He shrugs. "No idea, haven't met em' yet. But, I hope it's a new hottie." He says with a smirk, I laugh lightly.

We get out of the elevator after a few seconds and walk into the lobby. Everyone was gather to greet the new sinner looking for redemption. I didn't get a good look at them, as they were being blocked by Charlie. Who, by the way, was over the moon to see them.

"Alright, who's the new guy?" Angel asks, crossing his arms. Charlie looks back at us with a wide smile. "Guys, I want you to meet Liam, our newest addition to the hotel! Yay!" She cheers as she steps aside, given us a better view of him.

Liam was a average sized wolf demon, his jet black fur looked an almost deep blue under the lights of the hotel, his red eyes scanned the room, ears flicking slightly. When his eyes landed on me, he grinned. But, for some reason...

His grin was not a friendly one.

I furrow my eyes in confusion, and then, he spoke.

"Thanks for having me. It's a pleasure to be here."

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach.

That voice...I may have lost a bit of my memory, but I could never forget that voice. The voice that one minute, would be so loud it'd send me into a frozen shock.

Then the next, be so soothing and loving, that it'd make me forgive everything he's done for a while. I could never forget. Never ever forget that voice, his voice.

Angel seemed to be the only one who noticed my distress, he placed a hand on my shoulder. Only to take it away when I flinched under his touch. "Y/n?" He says quietly, voice filled with concern. I open my mouth to speak, but I couldn't find the words.

There was nothing I could say, even if I wanted to. My mind raced, everything became so loud so fast. My heart was beating like crazy, and I felt sick. "Y/n-" Angel didn't get my name out before I took off back to my room.

He watched me for a second before turning back to look at Liam, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 'Something ain't right...' He thought.

And he wasn't the only one who thought it. Alastor had thought anyone who'd come to this hotel for redemption, wasn't all the way there in the head. But...Liam seemed to be a whole new case. But, he kept his false welcoming persona as he spoke to Liam.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, my good man. But, I have important matters to attend to, so, you'll have to excuse me." Alastor says to him. Liam nods. "Sure thing." Alastor excuses himself from the group and walks away. Angel said nothing as he passed him by, but secretly hoped Alastor could help...

I paced in my room, arms clutched and wrapped around my body in a weak attempt of comfort. What the hell was going on!? Why was he here!? I mean, I'm not surprised he went to hell, but. Why here of all places!? Tears pooled in my eyes, my heart beating so fast it hurt. What am I going to do now?

I let out a sharp gasp as my door was open, I quickly turned to see Alastor. A wave a of relief washed over me at the sigh of him. "Alastor..." My voice cracked.

Alastor shut the door behind him and approached me, he didn't touch me right away, which I was grateful for. For now at least. "I take it, that was your ex?" He asked gently. I nod my head, tears streaming down my face. "W-What is he doing here? How the fuck did he find me?" I sob.

"I'm wondering the same thing." Alastor muttered. "Y/n, just give me the word, I'll go down there right now and have him taken care of."

"No!" I quickly say. "N-No...I...I don't want anyone to know by drawing attention."

"I can do it discreetly, it'll look like a bloody accident." Alastor tells me. "But...Charlie was so happy that there's someone new." I sigh. "Does that matter? Out there in that lobby is the reason your life was misery and why it was cut short." Said Alastor, almost in disbelief that I wouldn't let him get rid of that man.

"It doesn't...But, I think..." I exhale shakily. "I think I need to say my peace before I agree to anything." Alastor raises an eyebrow. "You want to speak to him?" He asks.

I nod my head. "There is so much I want to say to him...I want him to answer for all the pain he's caused me." Alastor was silent for a moment before speaking. "If that's what you want." He says softly. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"I think I should do this on my own. I might not get the answers I want, if it's not just the two of us." I tell him. "If you insist...But, the moment you feel that you're unsafe, just call for me. I will hear you." Alastor says firmly. "Understand?"

"I will, I promise."

Hours later, after Liam had gotten accustomed to the hotel, and when I was sure he'd be alone, was when I decided to finally speak with him. Wave after wave of anxiety washed over me, though I tried to stay calm. It would do me no good to run away. I've endured so much of his shit for so long, he will answer for it.

I will say what needs to be said, what should have been said a very long time ago. I found him right outside of the hotel, cigarette in hand. A puff of smoke left his lips, along with a deep exhale. His ears flickered towards my direction as I closed the hotel doors behind me.

He turned, and another rush of anxiety shot through me. "Hey there." He greets me. "Liam, can we speak?" Liam stares at me for a moment. "Do I know you?" He asks with a grin. "You do." I mutter. "I may not look like I use to, but I'm still the same. And I know it's you under that new form as well. Let's not pretend."

Liam's grin remained the same. "Yeah. I figured it was you, based on your reaction when you first saw me." He says before taking another drag.

He exhaled the smoke and casually asks me. "How have you been?" I clench my fists tightly at my side. "I'm surprised to see you here." He continues. "You were always so nice. What did you do? Hm? You do some terrible things I didn't know about or something?"

"Why did you do it?" I ask, ignoring his questions. "Hm? Do what?" He asks. "Don't act like you don't know! Why!? How could you do that to me!?" My emotions began to take over. And his stupid fucking grin was only upsetting me further.

Liam flicks the cigarette away before taking a step towards me. "I was good to you." I kept on. "I tried to be a good girlfriend, a good fiancé. I would have been a good wife. But you...all you've ever done was hurt me. You never appreciated me, you lied to me, you made me feel like less than a person. And for what? I would blame myself, but I've done nothing wrong. I stayed with you because it meant so much to my family, as well as yours. I did it for their sake, but most of all, I did it for you."

I continue. "I know how your family was. They were so insistent that we marry, or else you'd get the shit end of the stick for it. And I loved you...so why wouldn't I agree?"

"Why Liam? Just why?" Tears filled my eyes. "Why did you kill me?"

Liam was but a step away from me. "I didn't want to kill you." He starts. "You know how much shit, I went through because you died? My parents had to pull so many strings, get through to the right people, just to make sure no one found out. They hated me for it...Said I was a fucking disappointment. Didn't want me to get the shit end of the stick, huh? If only you didn't fucking mouth off to me that day. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten so angry. But you always had to test me, even now...you don't know when to quit."

"You have no one to blame but yourself Liam." I said firmly. "I didn't make you push me down those stairs. God, I feel so stupid. I don't know why I couldn't see it sooner. You were a bad person then, and I see nothing has changed now. Liam, I wanted to stay with you because I really did love you. At one point I did. I wish things could have been different, but, I see now that we were doomed from the start. I can't help you, I don't know how to, and I can't suffer by trying. I wish I were brave enough to say all this while I was still alive. But better late than never, I guess."

I turn to leave. "That's all I wanted to say. I don't think you're serious about this hotel, so I don't expect you to stay long. But while you're here...I hope you'll stay away from me. Because, I want nothing to do with you ever again."

"I don't think you really understand, Y/n."

I stop walking. "You ruined my life when you died. My parents pretty much disowned me. Cut me off, and I was left on my own. I struggled to keep employment, I turned to drugs, and I eventually died trying to forget that fucking night when you died. It's your fault you died, it's your fault I became an addict, and it's your fault I died. I'm suffering, and I will continue to suffer forever, because of you!"

I couldn't believe what he was saying. I was right, he really isn't capable of change. I turn to give him a piece of my mind, but it was then in that moment, he lunged at me...

And everything went dark...

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #abusive ex #abuse mention #past abuse #drugs #overdose

[fanfictilltheend]

A Trick of the Winter Light (Joel Miller/You)

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/n: To fill the anon tumblr prompt: "I have a Joel x daddy issues!reader request!! Reader sees how good Joel is with Ellie, and it makes her happy and sad at the same time. She's happy Ellie gets to have an amazing father, but she can't stop thinking about what was wrong with herself that her father couldn't love her the way Joel loves Ellie. This causes a bit of trouble in their little family until Joel and ellie confront reader about why she's being distant. I'd like a happy ending where joel comforts reader too!!!"

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, past abusive father mention, daddy issues, referenced past domestic violence, sarah mention, please take care of yourself!!

Summary: Reader comes from an abusive home and seeing Joel and Ellie's good relationship is heartwarming but also confusing at times. When Joel and Ellie get in a snowball fight reader assumes the worst between the two of them and Joel and Ellie comfort you the best way they know how.

Your dad was an asshole. There was no other way of saying it. You can’t even count the number of times that fucker came after you with a belt. This wasn’t the worst of it though, you think. The worst was that that motherfucker basically ignored you your entire childhood except to criticize or beat you. No playing dolls, no showing up to soccer games, no high-fives if you managed to scrape up an A on your report card. Instead, radio silence except for the slamming of fists or the shouting of harsh words. 

To say this didn’t fuck you up would be a lie. But it didn’t just fuck up how you felt about yourself, that could have filled up a novel, no, it also fucked up how you perceived other people’s relationships. And that’s where Joel and Ellie came in.

When Joel and Ellie moved into Jackson it turned your life upside down in the best possible way. You were an assistant teacher in the Jackson high school and met Ellie first. She charmed her way into her heart and that dark and mysterious Joel Miller was soon to follow with prompting from Ellie. Joel had initially been cold to you as he was to everyone (maybe that’s what drew you to him – another emotionally unavailable older man who actively didn’t give a shit about you), but he warmed up to you quickly when he saw how awesome you could be with Ellie. The rest was history and you moved in with Joel and Ellie soon after.

Most days were amazing! You were so impressed with the way Joel fathered Ellie, always being so kind and considerate to her and the way he looked at her like the sun shone out of her ass always melted your heart. But it was a lot to get used to, seeing a real, mostly-functional father-daughter relationship that you just never had. And then sometimes you were transported into the past against your will.

Take today, for example. It was winter and snow covered Jackson like a Christmas card. School had been canceled for you and Ellie and a construction project Joel had been helping with became a snow hazard so he had off too. You and Joel had been reading contentedly on the couch until Ellie raced inside and threw a live snowball right into Joel’s chest. You died laughing until Joel got up and declared war on Ellie who raced back outside, giggling hysterically. You and Joel grabbed coats and gloves and ran out into the front yard and began lobbing snowballs at Ellie who was screaming with glee from behind a snowbank. Everything was fine until Ellie managed to hit Joel square in the face. Joel stopped what he was doing, wiped the melting snow off his face gruffly, got up from the embankment you two had hidden behind, and marched over to Ellie. Ellie’s eyes widened in fear and she ducked down behind her snowbank. In seconds, Joel was upon her and tackled her to the ground behind the large pile of snow and you simply lost it. You didn’t think Joel would ever be capable of hurting Ellie, but you had seen that ferocious look in his eye – that same look you’d seen in your father’s. 

“Joel!” you yelled urgently, running over. “Get the fuck off of her! How the fuck could you–”

But you cut yourself off the second you realized the two were just laughing, rolling around, and play-fighting in the freezing snow. 

Oh, I am an idiot . You thought to yourself, wiping away the tears that had somehow collected in your eyes.

“Chill out, Y/N–” Ellie giggled, turning over to face you. “Oh my god. Shit. Are you crying!? We were just messing around…” she trailed off, looking over at Joel with worry.

Joel was looking up at you now with concern too. He knew about your past, but you didn’t blame him for not connecting the convoluted dots. 

“Shit, darlin’,” he said gently. “Don’t cry. What’s the matter now?”

“I-I-thought–” you began, but suddenly you were crying. You were always a crier. Every time your dad hurt you verbally or physically, you always cried. Like clockwork. “Thought you were m-mad at Ellie. I-I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Ellie looked up at you again with worry. Then she put two and two together. (Always was a smart kid).

“You…you thought he was really gonna hurt me?” She asked, looking up at Joel from her spot on the ground. 

“Kinda,” you nodded, staring down at the snow-drenched earth.

“Joel’d never ever hurt me like that, Y/N,” Ellie said, getting up and taking your hand. “Don’t you know that?”

“Yeah, is the thing,” you replied, looking over into Joel’s eyes. “I know he never, ever would. You’re so lucky to have that, Ellie. I just knew some people who weren’t like that is all. And I sometimes forget how good people can be.”

Joel stood up too and put a large hand on your shoulder.

“Over my dead body, I’d ever hurt either one of you,” he said meaningfully, looking into your eyes and you knew he was telling the truth. 

And because of that, you burst into tears.

“Ellie, kiddo, why don’t you go over to Dina’s for a little?” Joel suggested gently.

Ellie gave you a kind of awkward side hug and nodded and made her way over to Dina’s house, looking back a little uneasily.

Joel mouthed something to her, but you couldn’t tell what because tears had flooded your vision.

“Hey, I dunno who you’re talking about, Y/N,” Ellie shouted from half-way down the block, cupping her mittens around her mouth. “About those asshole people. But I’ll kick their asses for you!”

“Thanks, Els!” you giggled through the tears. She was always looking out for you like that even though she was only fourteen. “You’re a good kid.”

And with that, Ellie disappeared into town with a last nod.

“Uh, why don’t we head on inside and have something hot to drink,” Joel suggested. 

You nodded your head and Joel took your hand so gently, which was so different than how you’d seen him handle a weapon on patrol that your heart broke a little more, unsure how you got lucky enough to find someone who handled you so tenderly. 

***

You both sat at the kitchen counter with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate as the sun got lower in the winter sky.

“Gonna tell me what that was all about?” Joel asked, putting his hand on yours.

“It’s so fucking stupid,” you replied, taking your hand away.

Joel frowned. 

“Not to me it ain’t,” he responded seriously, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Nothing you say is stupid. Hell, half the time I’ve gotta look up words you just slip into normal conversation.”

You grinned at that. This was Joel after all. You knew you could tell him pretty much anything and he wouldn’t judge you, had probably done fifty times worse. 

“You just…had this angry look in your eye when Ellie threw that snowball at you. It reminded me of how my dad used to look at me before he’d…get physical. In my mind, I know you would never, ever hurt Ellie. But it’s like my body hasn’t caught up to my thoughts and it’s still a little girl, living at home with a terrifying asshole.”

“I get that,” Joel said after a moment. 

“You do?”

“Sure. Sometimes…sometimes my body still feels like it’s holding Sarah the day I lost her even though it’s been twenty years.”

Joel rarely mentioned Sarah so you were honored he felt comfortable enough to bring her up. You put your hand back on his and rubbed his calloused skin tenderly.

“Never’d hurt you or Ellie though. Over my dead body, alright?” Joel continued meaningfully, reaching out a large hand to rub your back. “But your dad? That asshole? Like Ellie said, I’d kick his ass six ways to Sunday.”

You snort into Joel’s flannel-covered shoulder, trying to imagine it. Joel would rip that asshole limb from limb with his bare hands, you were sure of it. You’d heard stories of what he was capable of, had seen glimpses of it on patrols. Ellie would be more than happy to assist. Come to think of it, maybe you’d get a kick or punch in edgewise of your own.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked slowly, your foot tangling with his own. 

“‘Course, doll,” He replied with a kind smile.

“This may not mean a lot coming from me, seeing as I don’t know much better, but I really do think you’re an amazing father.”

“To me, angel, that means the world,” Joel told you with a genuine grin.

He leaned over and kissed you on the top of your forehead and then between your lips. You kissed him back lovingly.

“Your dad didn’t know what the fuck he was missing with someone like you,” Joel murmured low against your ear.

You grinned.

“Love you, Joel,” you told him, pulling him in for a hug.

“Love you too, babygirl. Never gonna let anyone lay a finger on you ever again.”

A/n: Any feedback would be much appreciated! Lmk prompts or suggestions or if you would like to be tagged! Thanks for reading!! ❤️

Masterlist

#ao3 #fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fluff #fluff #hurt/comfort #past abuse #daddy issues #anon prompt #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x original character #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #kissing #established relationship #my fic

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Texts from the Ex

Pairings: Weems x Reader

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Reader is a fairly new teacher, and you have a panic attack at school luckily not in class.

TW: implied past abuse, stalking, panic attack

A/n Hi guys sorry I disappeared for a hot minute there I just finished the last of my exams and have been very very busy. I’ll be back to posting as per normal (hopefully) now. Thank you all for your support with my exams and to the people who wished me luck with them your all very sweet. Again, sorry about the random ghosting haha.

Also, this fic is Larissa x reader. I know I said this was a platonic fic of oneshots but it was requested (I won't be doing any more romantic pairing for weems or Thornhill in the foreseeable future), this is just a one off so… live with it. (Dw as per usual its SFW)

Your phone screen flashed again as you did your best to hide it under the table and out of sight. The panic swelled in your chest as you pushed the tray of food away.

It had started that morning in your first class. You had been teaching about the renaissance when your phone buzzed in your pocket. As per usual you ignored it, you had a class to teach. The buzzing happened again ten minutes later while the kids were doing some still life sketches. This time you pulled it out, feeling the blood freeze tight in your veins.

How did she get this number. Your ex-girlfriend had managed to track you down, most likely due to your response to the ad for this position a few months back. You had responded with your number like an idiot and now she was onto you again.

She was awful, she ignored you and she had always possessed a special talent to make you feel unwanted and small.

You quickly shoved the phone back into your pocket and drew some deep breathes trying to quell the rising feeling of panic. You had managed to stave it off until the class left. It was only then you had let yourself collapse onto the floor and sob. She was trying to get back into your life to ruin it again.

The messages hadn’t stopped all day. Each one had made you feel closer and closer to the impending panic attack and now you were sat here with Ms Thornhill trying to hold a conversation. However, she was doing about 90% of the talking while you sat there nodding. You were close with the botanist. After all she was close with your girlfriend who happened to be the principle. None other than Larissa Weems herself.

Realising you had zoned out you tried to tune back into what was being said around you. Your phone buzzed under the table again and you began to feel sick. What if Marilyn saw? What if Larissa found out? What if your Ex found you?

Your chest began to feel tight. Constricting slowly and making it harder to take a deep breath. Your head was pounding and your stomach roiling. Your hands were shaking and clasped tight under the desk. Your body was overwhelmed with fear, and it was getting harder to hear Marilyn. It sounded distorted, as if it was under a layer of thick liquid like juice or honey. Things were moving weirdly as well, almost slowly but also too fast.

You thanked God that you had agreed to have lunch with Marilyn in the conservatory away from students. They didn’t need to see the new art teacher having a breakdown over some silly text messages.

“Y/n?” Marilyn asked as she laid a hand on your shoulder. “Honey, are you ok?” She said softly. You recoiled from the touch, and she quickly withdrew her hands into a surrender. “Ok. Ok. Its ok. Im not going to touch you sweetheart. What do you need?” She said and you shook your head, taking shaky breathes which weren’t helping ease the nausea. You curled yourself into a tight ball.

“L-leave me al-lone pl-lease.” You begged. You couldn’t see past the haze of tears and your head hurt so bad.

Marilyn stood back for a second, seeing she was getting nowhere. Suddenly she had an idea and whipped out her own phone.

“Honey? Do you want me to call larissa?” She asked softly. You hesitated and then gave a small nod. “Good. Good. Ok? Take some deep breathes. You're doing great Y/n.” She encouraged and began to dial your girlfriend.

The whole time she was on the phone she studied you closely to make sure you were still breathing and not at risk of passing out. After a few seconds she nodded and said something you didn’t hear before hanging up.

“She’ll be here in a second. Come on Y/n. You can do it. You're doing such a good job sweetheart. That’s it.” She gushed and you let out a shaky sob as you saw a pair of heels enter your vision.

Looking up at her with a tear-stained face Larissa’s heart broke for you. She quickly sat on the floor beside you, uncaring about her expensive suit and pulled you into her arms. She pulled you into her chest and tucked your head under her chin, her arms wrapped around your back. One of your legs either-side of her as you straddled her waist. She rocked the two of you side to side as she brushed her hands through your hair.

She exaggerated her breathing as you listened to her heartbeat and slowed your own. After a bit of just sitting there you took a deep breath of her perfume and released a shaky sigh.

“Hello darling.” She said cooly and with a tender tone.

“Hi.” You said almost shyly. She chuckled.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and rested her cheek thereafter. “Your safe baby. Your safe. Ok. Im here.” She said still rocking the two of you. After another brief silence she shifted slightly, and you let out a whine.

“Hush. I’m not going anywhere sweets.” She said and you let one last tear fall onto her blazer before playing with her broach and starting to speak.

“She texted again.”

“Who texted?”

“My ex.” You said and you felt her stiffen. You had told Larissa of your time with your Ex and she more than disapproved of her.

“How many times sweetheart.” She said softly.

“Seven.” Larissa sucked in a breath.

“Im buying you a new phone.” She said and you gave a half snort half laugh which made her heart warm.

There was another short pause before you let out a content sigh. “I love you Issa.” You said and closed your eyes and nuzzled into her neck, you were emotionally and physically drained and in desperate need of a nap. Right here would do, you decided as you began to drift off.

“I love you too my darling girl.” She said and kissed your cheek, smiling at the small snores you were making into her neck. She wondered what the students were going to think when she carried you through the hall on her hip like a toddler, fast asleep. Maybe a little bit of a distraction from the students would be good for you she decided.

#weems comfort #Larissa weems #principal weems #marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill is not laurel gates #ms thornhill #nevermore #teacher r #art teacher r #past abuse #truama #ex girlfriends #weems x reader #stalking #panic attack #texting #fanfiction #fanfic #whump #fluff #comfort #sicfic #wednesday addams #hurt / comfort #emotional comfort

[i-eat-worlds]

Stab O’clock

Phoenix gets stabbed, whump ensues.

Thanks to @snaillamp and @whumpy-daydreams for helping with the medical stuff in this! Aaron and Phoenix belong to @pigeonwhumps

cw: medical whump, dubcon medical care, past medical abuse, graphic depiction of medical procedures (tube thoracostomy), needles, blood, implied current abuse, fear of punishment, wound fingering, immortal whumpee, wishing for death, past death, comfort believe it or not

“Firebird!”

Phoenix rolled away from the voice calling their name, trying to drag themselves deeper into the alleyway. If they were discovered like this, it wouldn’t end well. You couldn’t fight if you could barely breathe.

“Firebird!”

A black, blue, and orange uniformed hero rounded the corner, and Phoenix shrunk back further. Absurdly, they wished they could bleed out and die quicker, so they could heal. Being found like this was sure to end badly. Injured heroes were useless heroes, and useless heroes got punished. The hero called out for them again, moving towards the alley way.

They held their breath, hoping the hero would walk by and ignore them.

They didn’t.

Instead, the hero turned into the alley, dropping to their knees in front of them. He mumbled something into his coms before he looked at them. “Hey Firebird, I’m Exhale, I’m a medic.” He gestured to the patch on his left arm. “I’m here to help you, yeah?”

Medics? Who had sent medics out for them? That was a gross waste of resources. Phoenix shook their head. “ ‘m immortal.”

Talking was hard. Every word stole precious, precious air that was getting harder to take in by the second.

Exhale nodded. “Good to know, thanks for telling me.” He quickly located the wound on their chest and started quickly cutting the fabric away.

“No, ‘m immortal.” Phoenix whispered, pushing his hands away. “You don’ need to do that.”

“Not how that works. Let me help.” Exhale pressed a clear, sticky bandage over their chest. It was clear he wasn’t planning on arguing.

His hands wrapped around them, checking their backside for another wound. “ ‘m sorry,” they wheezed.

“It’s alright.” His hands pulled away. “I need you to lay down. I’ll help, yeah?” Phoenix let him gently set them down on the ground. This moved them out of the shadows, casting streetlight over their upper body.

Their chest still felt heavy and tight, even though the weird bandages he’d put on helped a little bit. It did nothing for the pain, every movement of their rib cage extending the burning ache. In the distance, they could hear sirens. Stupidly, Phoenix wondered if the sirens were for them.

That was silly, though. Why would they need an ambulance? It wasn’t like they were going to die.

“I’m gonna need to decompress your chest,” he said. He was holding something in his gloved hand, but Phoenix couldn’t really see what it was. “It’ll probably hurt, but it’ll also make it easier to breathe.”

They whimpered as Exhale pressed his fingers next to their sternum, only a few inches away from the wound, then slid them across their chest. In the corner of their vision, they saw light glint of of a very long needle.

They didn’t have time to really process what it was until after it was driven through their chest.

Shocked, they gasped, breathing hitching and head popping off the ground. Exhale didn’t seem so surprised, pressing his hand onto their shoulder to keep them from moving too much. “You’re alright, you’re going great.”

It certainly didn’t feel like that.

“The ambulance is on its way, they’re a few minutes out.” For some reason, he was still gently squeezing their shoulder. It wasn’t that they minded, it was just odd.

It was easy to tell that the ambulance was coming, sirens screaming through the night. Phoenix closed their eyes to try and get away from bright flashing lights as it parked. It was so easy to keep them like that.

“Phoenix, can you open your eyes for me?” He shook their shoulder a bit, but when they didn’t respond, he switched to grinding his knuckles into their sternum.

Their eyes popped open, and they raised the arm on their uninjured side to try and push his hand away. “I need you to try and stay awake, for me, yeah?”

The ambulance ride passed in a blur. So much was going on. While Exhale was starting an IV, another paramedic was attaching them to a monitor. An oxygen mask was looped over their face and then they were covered by a blanket. They felt a strange coolth running up their arm, and they realized that they’d been given painkillers.

It was too much, really. All the care and attention would've been better spent on someone who wouldn’t live anyway. The thought of having to pay for this made them nauseous. Hopefully Kai will believe that they tried to say no, because Abbie wouldn’t care.

Phoenix heard the arrival alarm go off as they were rolled into HAL’s medbay. Aaron, along with a cache of other nurses met them by the door. They clumped around the stretcher, and Exhale started rattling off a long list of words and numbers that they didn’t understand at Aaron.

“ ‘m sorry,” they mumbled to them, but he was too busy talking to hear them. “I promise ‘m sorry, sir.”

Nobody responded. Of course they didn’t. They were being annoying, and they needed to shut up.

“Three, two, one, lift!” Somebody called, and they were hoisted off the stretcher and set back down on the table. The movement caused pain to flare in their chest, and they groaned loudly. The assault of hands returned as they were attached to the medbay’s monitor, nurses swarming around them.

“You with me, Phoenix?” Aaron was standing at their head. His face looked weird upside down.

They nodded, feeling the tears starting to build. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good.” Aaron’s eyes flickered up, watching as their blood pressure cycled. “We’re gonna take an x-ray, okay. Just lie still for us.”

Someone pulled an x-ray machine over the bed, and Aaron backed away. There was an awkward moment of quiet as the machine hummed and wirred, and then everyone briey stared at the radiograph that Phoenix could neither see nor interpret. Aaron rattled o a list of stuff he needed done, and the room descended back into organized chaos.

“I’m gonna need to place a chest tube. You’ve got blood in your chest, so we're going to put a tube in and drain it out so you can breathe better,” he explained as he rubbed cleaning gel on his hands.

Phoenix swallowed nervously, giving up on holding back tears. They could feel the pain of the scalpel slicing through their chest, of cold metal pushing their ribs apart, of hands digging around inside them as they died and resurrected and died again.

“You’re lucky someone is willing to help you at all. You know you don’t deserve it.”

A nurse pulled the blanket all the way to their belly button, revealing the myriad scars that covered their body. Burns, several GSWs, an old wound from a spear, and the long, thick, almost keloid scar from the thoracotomy.

“If you stopped fucking moving I wouldn’t need to paralyze you. It’s not like you need to breathe.”

Their attention was drawn by Aaron’s voice. “Phoenix, I need you to keep breathing for me. In and out, in and out.” He looped a mask around his face, then plunged his arms into the sleeves of a waiting gown. While he spoke, the nurse wiped the skin around their chest and up their arm with a stinky orange solution.

“Please, ‘m sorry, sir,” they gasped. The monitors screeched as their heart rate spiked. “I promise, sir, ‘m sorry for getting hurt.”

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not mad at you for getting hurt, Phoenix. I’ll never be.” Cold flared in their arms, but they were too scared to recognize it as pain medication. Latex snapped as he donned a pair of sterile gloves.

The squelching of viscera echoed in their brain.

“If you don’t stop screaming I’m going to cut it. I can literally see your aorta. Don’t test me.”

He started to unfold a drape on their chest, looking up at a nurse on the other side of the table. “Can you get Joseph in here? They need more support than I can provide while I’m doing this.”

Phoenix whimpered, tears rolling down freely down their cheeks. They’d known that Aaron’s kindness wouldn’t last forever, that it was too good to be true, but it still hurt. And Joseph as well? Was he going to hold them down while Aaron cut them open? Or would they just slit their throat and be done with it?

“I told you I wasn’t fucking around. You could’ve prevented this if you would’ve just kept still.”

“I‘m sorry, please, I promise, I’m sorry, sir.” They tried again, desperately. “I didn’t mean to get hurt. I know I don’t deserve it, sir. I know. I promise, sir, I know.”

They gasped for air, hand clawing at the tide of the table.

“Can someone gag them please? I don’t want to hear them breathing like that. It’s annoying.”

Joseph appeared in the entryway to the room, quickly crossing on the side away from Aaron. He was wearing his full INSUPA uniform, med patches and all, same second in command stripes as the person in the alley had. Was Joseph Exhale?

It didn’t really matter now. He was going to hurt them anyway.

“Can someone hold them down? They move too much when they resurrect.”

“Hey Phoenix, can you look at me?” He was smiling at them, but he still looked terrifying.

They tore their eyes from the needle in Aaron’s hand to look at him. “That’s good. Eyes on me, eyes on me.”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know it's your own fault.”

Joseph kept talking to them, voice low and calm. “Is it okay if I hold your hand?” They nodded, knowing their answer didn’t really matter anyway.

“We’re gonna take care of you. I know it’s scary.” His hands were calloused and hard, and he gently started to massage the top of their hand with his thumb.

Why hadn’t he killed them yet? What was he waiting for?

“Stop crying. It’s distracting me.”

Aaron touched their chest. Fear exploded in their gut, along with boiling waves of nausea. Even though they knew they’d come back, they didn’t want to die.

“Aaron’s starting the local now.” Joseph said, squeezing their hand a little.

“I don’t care that it hurts. Just keep still.”

The needle punctured their skin, and they did their best to not wiggle away. There was an acidic burn in their chest as the medication took hold.

“I know it burns, but it’s nearly over,” Aaron said, grabbing another syringe. “That’s the first round of local anesthetic in, you’re doing great.”

Joseph smiled at them again, and Phoenix wondered what the point of the medication was. Weren’t anesthetics supposed to make things hurt less? That couldn’t be right.

They were supposed to be dying.

“Pain meds? That would be wasted on you. I don’t think it’d even work.”

Aaron swamped out the syringe for a scalpel, and their eyes went wide with fear. This was how he was going to kill them then.

“Eyes on me, remember?” Joseph’s voice was commanding, and their eyes snapped back to his face.

“I’m sorry sir,” they said, voice filled with fear.

“I didn’t know you were too stupid to follow even simple instructions. Stop. Squirming.”

They prepared themselves for the pain of being sliced open, waiting for the agony to spread along their ribs.

“Tell me if it starts to hurt,” Aaron said. There was a strange pressure on the side of their chest, and the metallic smell of blood filled the air.

It was strange, but it didn’t hurt. It was supposed to hurt.

“It’ll go faster if you don’t cause problems.”

There was an uncomfortable tugging and pulling sensation, and then Aaron’s finger slid inside their chest. They suppressed the urge to cringe away.

“They need more local.” Joseph said, his tone switching from soft to business when he talked to Aaron.

“ ‘m okay,” they insisted. They didn’t need any more superfluous medication wasted on them. It already wasn’t as bad as they’d thought it’d be.

“I wouldn’t have had to do this if you’d just behaved.”

Joseph kept holding their hand as Aaron reached for another syringe. “You’re doing great, keep it up,” he assured them.

The burning sensation returned, and then they were being spread open again. A rush of blood splattered onto the floor, splashing on Aaron’s gown.

“What, are you afraid of a little blood?

He stuck his finger into their chest again, rotating it around inside them. “Any pain, Phoenix?”

“No, sir.” They were crying more now than before.

He snatched the tube off the tray. “Give them another point-two of Eropental.”

“If you complain that it hurts one more time, I’m going to just leave the rest of the shrapnel inside.”

Joseph let go of their hand to administer the medication, and for some reason, Phoenix didn’t like it.

Meanwhile, Aaron was deep in concentration. He carefully threaded the hard, plastic tube into their chest, then quickly connected them up to the strange looking drainage machine and opened up the clamp. “Tube’s in.”

It was quickly filled with blood. “Now all we gotta suture it in place. You’re nearly done, Phoenix.

“It’s kinda useless to stitch them, since they'll heal up anyway.”

This, at least, they were familiar with. Aaron had stitched them up way more times than was justied for any one person.

Joseph was back to holding their hand now. If they’d made it this far, the punishment would probably come later. “You did great, Phoenix.”

They didn’t believe him, but they weren’t going to argue.

“Just catch up after you heal. We don’t have the time to carry you back. You have to pull your own weight.”

Aaron dosed the wound liberally with another round of anesthetic before he covered it with several layers of gauze and tape.

The blood was practically flowing out of them, out of the tube and into the pump. “We’re gonna get you scanned next,” he said as he tore off his blood flecked gown and gloves. “Hopefully your healing is doing a good job of patching it up.”

Joseph squeezed their shoulder. “We gotcha.”

For a brief moment, Phoenix let themselves entertain the thought that they weren’t going to be killed at all. If Aaron was expecting them to heal, then maybe they’d be okay. But the anxiety settled in there chest again.

Now they had to do was survive what Abbie would dole out to them.

Aaron and Joseph had let them off easy.

Abbie wouldn’t.

Taglist: @/pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump

#worlds babbles #whump #medical whump #past abuse #medical procedure #needles tw #blood #fear of punishment #multiple caretakers #medic caretaker #wishing for death #joseph oc #aaron not my oc #phoenix not my oc #this is long and I love it #also Eropental: #superhero strength narcotic #this was fun I should write more surgery #it’s dubcon bc Phoenix doesn’t want it #bc they think they’ll be hurt #but HALs/INSUPAs implied consent policy is very broad #superheroes don’t get DNRs basically

[supercap2319]

Baby It’s Cold Outside Chapter 2

A/N: Warning: Mention of child abuse. Abuse. Running away. This is depressing as fudge, I promise next chapter will be happier.

Tyler nervously watched the time on his phone change from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am. It’s midnight and his father still isn’t home yet. The young man had been pacing around the room in a nervous anticipation ever since his conversation with Y/N at the Weathervane earlier today. After his shift at work, he waited antsy for his father to come home in hopes that he could ask him for permission to spend Christmas with Y/N.

Hopefully, he said yes.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door opening up jolted Tyler out of his thoughts as he watched his dad come into the living room, still dressed in his sheriff’s uniform. His tired eyes cast a glance over at Tyler as he turned fully towards his son. “Looking for something?”

Tyler shook his head no.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed already?” Sheriff Galpin asked. He sat down in a chair and began to remove his boots. Tyler watched him pull his feet free of them before putting them on the side of the chair. “I-I couldn’t sleep. Plus, there’s something that I need to ask you.”

That got the Sheriff's attention as he looked at his son with inquisitive eyes. Eyebrows raised. “Oh, and what might that be?”

“Can I go to Y/N Munster’s house for Christmas? He invited me to go.”

“Munster invited you?” The sheriff asks.

Tyler nodded his head.

The sheriff is silent for a second, looking at Tyler. Looking him up and down and Tyler has to fight the urge to look away from him, or look down. Finally, Tyler’s dad gave him his answer, and it makes his heart sink faster than the Titanic. “No. No, I don’t want you to go with that boy. He’s a menace, and I don’t trust him or his family.”

“But dad it’s only for a few days and I’ll be back in no–”

“–What part of ‘no,’ don’t you understand, boy?” The sheriff glares up at his son as the youngest Galpin falls silent. His father’s tone was any indication that this conversation was over. No more arguing or bargaining. Tyler wasn’t going anywhere, and that was final.

Tyler nods his head in defeat as he tries not to cry in front of his dad. Cry would only make the situation worse for himself if he did. So, he sucks it up until he’s safely inside the confines of his room to cry in peace. “Yes, sir. Sorry, dad. You're right.”

Sheriff Galpin nods his head. “Good. Now, go to bed because you still have semester tests tomorrow before winter break.”

Tyler nods once again as he leaves the living room, and up the stairs towards his room as he goes inside, shuts and locks the door before the tears fall down his face. He should have seen this coming. His father was the walking personification of a macho, straight male guy. Of course, he wouldn’t want his son going to an outcast's house for Christmas. Tyler was so stupid to believe that he would say yes. He should have expected the disappointment.

He sat down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling as he cried. His dad never used to be like this. So cold. Mean. Abusive. It started after his mom passed away when he was 6. And now sheriff Galpin was always on his son’s case about everything. And the worst part of it all was that Tyler hadn't told him about Y/N. That they were dating. He wouldn’t be disappointed in him, no, he would be fucking disgusted and beat him black and blue until the homosexual came out of him. Which is why Tyler hasn’t told Y/N that he hasn’t told his dad about them. He didn’t want to put Y/N through all that, but none of that mattered because he wasn’t going to be able to spend Christmas with his boyfriend.

Tyler looked at his phone and debated in his head on whether to text Y/N the bad news. Tell him that his dad has forbidden him from going anywhere with him. He could picture his boyfriend’s face, sad and full of tears, and it was enough to make Tyler cry once again, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever again. Maybe it was the Hyde side of him taking over, but in the recesses of his mind, a plan started to form. A plan that would change everything for him. His life. His relationship with his father. All of him. Was he prepared to accept the consequences?

Tyler got up from his bed as he began packing his things. Throwing clothes, shoes, personal items inside a giant duffel bag. He realized that his Hyde side might be pushing him, but ultimately this was his decision. He was conscious even to know what this would mean, and that there was no turning back once he chose to go down this road. And to be honest? Tyler couldn’t care less. He was running away from the town of Jericho. From his abusive dad. All of it.

….

The next day, Tyler kept spacing out, staring at nothing. He wasn’t paying attention during his classes, and he almost failed his semester tests, catching the worried eyes of his teachers. The thought of his father easily finding out about his little plan to run away. Catching him and punishing him. It made him shiver more than the cold weather was supposed to. He shakes his head, as if that act would instantly clear his head. That’s when he focuses on his task at hand, finishing his tests so he can leave school, pick up Y/N, and go. Once he’s finished each and everyone one of said tests, he leaves the classroom thinking he’s done his best. Probably not an A+ material, but good enough to pass for the semester.

Tyler holds tightly on his backpack straps as he passes by Lucas Walker. The son of the former mayor and sheriff as he nods to Tyler in understanding. This morning before school, Tyler offered Lucas a deal. If he would say that Tyler’s staying at his house for a few days, the Galpin boy would pay him fifty dollars to keep quiet. By then Tyler will have come up with a better plan by Christmas, he hoped. Lucas’s friends eyed him suspiciously as they still resented him for hanging and being friendly to the outcasts at Nevermore. Thankfully, not knowing of his Hyde side and all the terrible things he did, because they would hate him even more than they already did.

The young halfbreed pushed through the doors of the school as the frigid air of December blew through his clothes as he walked towards his truck.

“So, you and Tyler are both coming home for Christmas?”

Y/N could practically hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she said that. He chuckles. “Yeah, Ma. Tyler and I are coming home for Christmas. Tyler’s picking me up at 1:00 pm after he gets done with his semester test and we’ll head that way.”

“Well, your father and I can’t wait to meet him. Neither can grandpa Marilyn and Eddie.”

“Did you say that the whole family was coming from the old country?” Y/N asked as he pushed the last of his clothes into his duffel bag.

“Yes, dear. All your uncles are coming home for the holidays.”

“Well, I can wait to see you guys and everyone else, but I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, honey. See you soon.”

“Bye, Ma.” Y/N hangs up the phone as he makes sure he is everything ready before Tyler gets here. Nevermore was almost empty. Almost everyone had left this morning. His cousin Wednesday and Thing had left when his Uncle Gomez and Aunt Morticia came to pick up their daughter. Enid’s parents had come to get her. Bianca’s mom came to get her. Then Ajax had left with his older brother. Then a black, sleek car pulled up to the front of the school, as Xavier got in and winked at Y/N as he left for home as well. That left Y/N and a couple of other students who were still waiting for their rides and staff members.

About 15 minutes later, Y/N gets a text from Tyler that he’s on his way.

The young Munster smiled as he got his duffel bag, his backpack, and bundled up for the cold as he walked out of his dorm room, down the stairs and out to the front, waiting for his boyfriend to come pick him up. When he saw the red of Tyler’s pickup truck, Y/N smiled widely.

It pulled up right in front of him as the windows of the passenger side rolled down and Tyler’s boyish face could be seen. “Hey, baby.”

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at the nickname as a blush chases its way onto his face as Tyler comes from the driver side and pulls Y/N close into a kiss as red colored both their cheeks. From the kiss and the cold. Tyler pulled away, his blue eyes shining and a teasing smile on his handsome face. Y/N noticed the way light snow fell on Tyler’s golden brown locks and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers through them.

“You all set?”

Tyler’s voice brought Y/N back to reality. “Yeah, all set. Just this duffel bag and backpack and I’m good.” He showed the other boy his contents as he grabbed them from his hands and put them gently in the bed of his truck as he came back and laced his fingers with Y/N’s, pulling him towards the open passenger door. Tyler then puts a hand on the small of Y/N’s back, and the curly-haired barista pushed him into the passenger seat and closed the door as he came around to the driver side and got inside as he smiled. “Alright, next stop, New Jersey?”

“Yeah. I have the directions on my phone.” Y/N messes with his device for a few minutes before the navigation system comes on. It’s about a seven hour drive if they don’t stop too much.

“Great. And I’ve got a phone charger here for our phones and I’ve got chips and soda here, but if you get hungry we can stop somewhere later if you want?” Tyler asked him.

“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait for my whole family to meet you. I’m so excited.” Y/N is practically jumping in his seat with excitement as Tyler chuckles at his boyfriend’s amusement.

“And your dad was okay with you spending Christmas with my family?”

Tyler knew this question would pop up sooner or later, but he was still shocked when he heard Y/N ask it. He had prepared a whole speech for Y/N last night about how his dad didn’t give him permission at all to come with him, and oh, there was that small little detail of him running away from home. No biggie. Instead of telling him the truth; Tyler slipped into his other half. The half of him that lied to Y/N the first time when he had been accused of being the Hyde by Wednesday. The part of himself that almost ruined things between them. And now here he was, jeopardizing that very same relationship again, thanks to his lies. He just hopes that Y/N will understand and won’t hate him for lying to him again.

Tyler then put the truck in drive as he and Y/N drove away from Nevermore as it got smaller and smaller in the background as they drove through Jericho as Tyler’s heart spiked as they passed the Now leaving Jericho sign. Any minute now, his dad’s police car would show up behind them in the rear-view mirror. Tyler would be in so much trouble. His dad would probably beat him so badly that he wouldn’t dream about running away ever again and he would forbid the barista from associating with Y/N ever again. But it didn’t matter because Y/N would hate him when he found out about Tyler’s lies and deceptions. The same old tricks. Looks like Hydes couldn’t be trusted no matter how many chances you gave them.

Tyler’s heart didn’t stop hammering until they drove past Burlington and towards New Jersey.

.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #wednesday 2022 #tyler galpin x male reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #hunter doohan x male reader #hunter doohan #sheriff Galpin is an asshole parent #sheriff galpin #past abuse #christmas fic #will get better #the munsters #Y/N Munster

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2

Part 1, Ao3

Heavy chapter, please heed the following; Blood tw vivisection tw descriptions of a flashback descriptions of a night terror descriptions of recovery abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)

Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.

A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.

Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.

“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.

Danny attempted a smile.

“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”

“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”

Danny paused.

“Who-?”

“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”

Oh thank the Ancients.

Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.

Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.

He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.

That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.

And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.

But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.

And Danny still felt awful about that.

Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.

There it was.

The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.

With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.

“Hey man!”

“Danny!”

Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”

~~~~~~

Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.

He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.

He was in the Fenton’s basement.

The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.

Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-

Stop.

Assess.

What was going on?

Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.

Why?

Who would…?

There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.

If he survived.

But he had survived, hadn’t he?

Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.

That was a kidney.

That was a stomach.

There was blood on the floor.

There…there was blood on his shoes.

Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.

The door opened.

Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.

Dan had two options.

He could kill the things that had done this.

Or.

He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.

The world glitched again.

Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.

With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.

He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.

He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.

It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?

He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.

Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-

Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.

It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.

So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.

Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.

…

Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.

~~~~~~

Dan may have failed steps one through ten.

It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.

Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.

He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.

He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.

The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.

Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.

They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.

It would be so. Fucking. Easy.

In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.

Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-

-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.

“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-

-Dan dropped the hand.

Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.

Fuck.

Fuck this place.

Fuck this city.

Fuck everything about this situation.

~~~~~~

Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.

The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.

Batman waved him off.

He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.

A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.

It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.

Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.

Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.

It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.

Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.

The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.

The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.

Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.

The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.

From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.

Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.

The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.

Who were housed in Arkham.

Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.

The third time was the present.

Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.

But he’d reigned it in.

“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”

The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.

Phantom did not say anything.

He did not have to.

His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.

Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.

Alright then.

“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”

Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.

Then Phantom opened his mouth.

“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.

Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.

While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.

And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.

“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.

Batman nodded.

“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”

Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.

~~~~~~

Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.

Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.

“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”

Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.

Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.

“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”

Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.

“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”

Danny avoided Sam��s flat look.

Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.

Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.

Tucker threw up his hands.

“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.

Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.

“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”

Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.

~~~~~~

Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.

Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.

Dan steadied him as he bounced back.

Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.

He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?

Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.

“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”

“We’re the same height?”

“Nah, we’re not.”

Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.

“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”

“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”

Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.

He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.

He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.

He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.

“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.

Dan snorted.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”

“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”

Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.

Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.

Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.

“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.

“Yeah.”

“So you got to see the Bats in action?”

“…Yeah.”

Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.

“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”

Danny shrugged.

“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”

Dan snorted and leaned away.

“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.

What was he gonna do about it?

He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.

“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”

Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.

“I think…I’ll be a medic.”

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those. I apologize if my descriptions are off. Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to. From my notes; "Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it. We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son. For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’." This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride. Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.

#in the shadow of speculation #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #blood tw #vivisection tw #flashback tw #night terror tw #descriptions of recovery #physical therapy mention #self hatred tw #abled verbiage tw #forced parenthood tw #healing through helping others #past abuse #past torture

[sulasnsleep]

“i do not recall the taste of love. i remember being fed poison and told it was sugar.”

— sulasnsleep

#tw self destruction #tw abuse #tw child trauma #tw child harm #tw childhood abuse #tw childhood trauma #tw childhood neglect #tw neglect #self writings #self written #self written quotes #tw past trauma #tw past abuse #past abuse #past trauma #tw manipulation #manipulation #manipulative #depressing quotes #sorry for being depressing #depresjon #kinda depressing #depressing poem #tw depressing stuff #tw depressing thoughts #this is depressing #depressiv #depressing shit #depresión #depressing life

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 3: a desperate revelation

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Astarion talks about his abuse.

W/C: 2,795

A/N: My dog had heart surgery last week... please send all the good vibes for her recovery!

After the arduous fight with the Hag, Astarion wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bedroll. Shadowheart had mended the worst of their wounds with a healing prayer, and your quiet songs of rest had bolstered their energy for the trek back to camp. Once out of the bog, the fading rays of the sun’s light were visible once more.

He paused a moment to marvel at the way they painted the sky in various hues of pinks and oranges, a sight he had long since given up hope of ever seeing again. He tried to convince himself that any day spent in the sun was a day worth having, no matter how fleeting a retreat it might be. 

A plaintive sigh escaped him at the prospect of returning to the shadows after being blessed by the warmth of the light.

“Copper for your thoughts?” you intoned from behind him, startling him out of his quiet reverie.

“For nearly two centuries, I’ve known nothing but darkness and pain. To stand in the sun, after so much tragedy and despair, is nothing short of a miracle,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would shatter the beautiful illusion he’d come to know and he’d instead find himself a psychotic wreck, locked in a mausoleum somewhere at Cazador’s behest again.

He tracked your approach in his peripheral vision, mentally preparing himself to broach the topic of his past, of his Master’s cruelty. You stopped at his side and gazed out into the encroaching darkness with him, listening along as the song of birds gave way to the chirp of crickets. The stars began their winking, and the ambiance of rural night crept over them in a subdued melody.

“Without darkness, there would be no light,” you said quietly. 

He peered over at you, watching as the moon started its trek across the indigo sky just above your head. You glanced at him, and your eyes met his for a moment. He did not expect the sorrow that he found in their depths. He opened his mouth, but no sound left his lips, the icy fingers of fear choking him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, preparing to spill his darkest secrets upon reopening them.

“Come, friend,” your hushed voice met his ears. “We are not far from camp. We may speak there.”

With that, the moment was broken. Astarion opened his eyes to see your retreating form, and silently thanked whatever gods still were for the extra time to gather his strength. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion sat alone in his tent, lost in his thoughts. He could hear the chatter and laughter of his companions just beyond its thin walls, but he didn’t even have the heart to observe from afar tonight. He waited in trepidation for you to come find him, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the closed cover of the book in his lap. Even reading had proven to be an unhelpful distraction.

“Astarion?” 

He recognized the lilt of your soft voice and cleared his throat.

“In here, darling,” he called, unwilling to move, lest his legs were to carry him far from this conversation, far from camp in cowardice.

You parted the flaps of his tent with a small smile, a question in your eyes. He waved at the space in front of him, a silent go ahead to enter and sit. You nodded imperceptibly and sat down, crossing your legs and setting your lyre in your lap.

Astarion raised a brow at the instrument.

“Do you ever go anywhere without that?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

“Never,” you grinned. “It’s the source of my connection to the Weave.”

He scoffed, “A lyre?”

“Well, not the lyre specifically,” you blushed, “but the music it creates. Any instrument will do, but this is my instrument of choice.”

“I see,” he said, though he really didn’t.

“Would you like me to give you an example?” you asked kindly.

“Please, be my guest.”

He watched as your delicate fingers plucked a soft melody on the instrument, caressing the tune from them with practiced ease and fondness. The mellifluous sound of your voice began its harmony, and a sense of peace like he had never known washed over him. He was enchanted by your performance, finding it a strangely intimate experience with no one else to accompany the two of you.

All too soon, the final chord resonated in the cavern of his chest with a quiet hum.

Astarion opened his eyes - not remembering having closed them - and gazed at you. The warm feeling from earlier had returned at the start of the song, and had slowly spread its way through his limbs with each progression until he felt light and fuzzy, an unusual and somewhat dizzying sensation. A slight flush had spread across your cheeks and into the bodice of your nightclothes as he regarded you with a soft expression.

“That was lovely,” he murmured, loath to break the tranquil quiet of the moment.

“A Song of Calm for my tense, toothsome friend,” you smiled, voice lowered to match his own.

“Ah! Well that explains the sudden silence in my mind.” 

He cracked a wry smile and delighted in your answering giggle. Stillness enveloped the tent once more, and your expression morphed into one of concerned sincerity.

Here we go.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he bit out, rage and fear laced in his voice. You recoiled at his tone, and it took conscious effort for him to soften it. “But that won’t do anyone any good.”

You remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. He heaved a great, mournful sigh, and began.

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people,” he said with carefully construed apathy, “The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.”

His eyes had fallen to the space separating him from you, avoiding the questions he knew he was sure to find in yours.

“How were you turned?” you asked in a whisper. “Did he attack you?”

Astarion sighed again.

“Not him, no. A gang of thugs, the Gur,” he sneered, “attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as a magistrate.”

“I see. Is that why you were on edge with the hunter today?”

“Indeed. They’d beaten me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.” 

He repressed a violent shudder at the memory and ploughed ahead, “It was only afterward that I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“I take it he was rather lacking as a master,” you intoned gravely.

“He had me go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find by whatever means necessary. It was a fun little ritual of his - I’d bring them back and he’d ask me if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat.”

He could still taste it even now, the fetid blood of overripe rodent corpses. He wanted to gag and retch at the thought.

“Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, that’s terrible. I’m so bloody sorry,” you sniffled.

He looked up at the sound to see the glistening tracks of tears running down your face in the glow of the oil lamp, more yet unshed making your eyes glassy. He didn’t know what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Thank you, but this isn’t about the sympathy,” he continued uncomfortably, “it’s about knowing what we might be up against. The Gur hunter won’t be the only one looking for me, what with his favorite plaything being misplaced.”

“Plaything?” you nearly choked.

“Yes, he always did say that my screams sounded sweetest,” he intoned bitterly.

He did not raise his eyes at the sound of your sharp gasp, fearful of what your face would betray.

“Vampire spawn are less than slaves - we’re puppets. All he need do is speak and our bodies obey. The things I’ve done, seen… felt. Well, there are some things better left unsaid,” he finished, voice hollow.

He looked up again to find tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running with your sorrow, the whimpers and sniffles of your sobs echoing in the silence. He was unsure of how to console you, so he simply looked away, giving you time to gather yourself.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” you garbled, and he looked back to see you dashing tears from your eyes. “How insensitive of me. You don’t need my tears to make this wretched retelling any worse.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. It isn’t called a sob story for nothing, after all,” he chuckled, trying for levity to lift the stifling gloom of the atmosphere. His attempt wrested a watery giggle from you, so he considered it a success.

Once your sniffling had died down, a comfortable silence settled over the tent. He had gone back to staring at the empty space of his bedroll between you and him, and a new plan slowly began to unfurl in his mind. You seemed to like him well enough, but was well enough going to keep him safe in the dire straits ahead?

He was broken from his musing by the gentle strings of your lyre, a different melody this time but with a similar effect. The dulcet tones of your harmony flooded him with that strange, tingly warmth again, and he made up his mind in that moment. You were an unalienable ally with your charisma and quiet authority, and he needed to do whatever necessary to stay in your good graces.

Resolute in his decision, he listened intently to your music, laying back on his hands and closing his eyes to bask in the beauty of it. Your songs transitioned smoothly from one into the next, and he soon found himself drifting into his nightly meditation with unprecedented ease. He didn’t even register when the music had stopped, only noticing when your hushed voice temporarily disrupted the blissfully quiet calm of his mind.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” ______________________________________________________________

He rose early the next morning and was pleased to find you already awake. You were breaking your fast with some sludgy gruel the wizard was stirring while Wyll regaled you with animated tales of his heroics. He rolled his eyes at the warlock’s prideful display, but noticed you listening intently, gasping and asking questions at all the perfect intervals. The warlock regarded you with a smile far too fond for his liking, and he found himself calling out to you before he was even sure of what he was going to say.

“Darling, a moment, if you please?”

You gave Wyll a sheepish grin and excused yourself, setting the bowl of lumpy porridge on your stool and sauntering over to him. Astarion snickered to himself at the way the warlock’s face twisted.

“Good morning, Astarion,” you said brightly, smile more radiant than the morning sun.

“Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?” he asked, laying the charm on thick.

“Alright, I s’pose. You?”

“Vampires don’t sleep, dear, though I’ll say that last night was the closest I’ve come to it in two centuries,” he replied, trying for his most disarming smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you responded softly. “If you’d like to dine with me tonight, I’d be happy to lend my neck.”

Astarion could swear he felt his undead heart give a flutter of a beat before going dormant again.

“Why, there’s nothing I’d love more darling! But, are you sure you’re feeling up to it so soon after the first time?” he asked, his portrayal of concern surprisingly effortless.

He watched as you pulled a pendant out of your decolletage, holding it up so that it glinted in the light. He could feel the faint thrum of the Weave surrounding it.

“I went hunting through my things last night when I remembered I had this. It’s an amulet of restoration. Shadowheart confirmed for me that it will counteract the effects of blood loss,” you beamed.

“My, my. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as you noticeably retreated into yourself.

“I only wanted to help,” you mumbled, eyes downcast.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, Astarion shifted the subject back to the amulet.

“And wherever did you find such a pretty bauble?”

Your answering grimace and accompanying flush was an unexpected reaction.

Oh, this must be good.

“I nicked it from the druid grove,” you said sheepishly.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear,” he responded with a hearty laugh.

“Shut it, Rogue,” you grumbled at him good-naturedly.

“Never! And in answer to your earlier question, I would be more than delighted to dine with you.” He bowed dramatically, earning him a few bright peals of laughter.

“Your tent, or mine?” he purred. He made a show of watching the way your flush deepened and crept its way down into the plunging neckline of your nightclothes.

“Erm, I’d assume you’d be most comfortable in your tent,” you responded, wringing your hands with eyes downcast once more.

Well, that won’t do.

He reached forward slowly so as not to spook you and tucked a finger under your chin, gently raising your face so he could catch your eyes.

“I can make myself comfortable anywhere for you, dear,” he breathed, watching closely as your lips parted in a silent gasp and pupils dilated infinitesimally wider.

Just as he was about to celebrate this small victory, your eyes cinched shut and a pained expression flitted across your face. He dropped his hand instantly, taken aback by the dramatic shift in your reaction.

“S’not you,” you gritted out, confusing him further. You opened your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Just a bad memory,” you clarified, standing tall in a display of faux confidence.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and he could see right through it to the rigid way you held yourself. He felt his face fall with a doleful kind of understanding.

She, too, has endured much torment.

“Ah yes, those I am quite familiar with. We all have skeletons in the closet. An unfortunate side effect of living…” he paused, “and unliving, I suppose.”

You chuckled, easing up again.

“I’m taking Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale with me today to look for the missing druid. We’ll let you know what we find,” you changed the subject, meeting his gaze.

He felt a pang of disappointment with the chill of fear quick on its heels and fought to keep his face neutral, but was ultimately unsuccessful. You caught a glimpse of something, however fleeting, in his eyes that turned your countenance steely.

“He won’t have you, Astarion. You don’t need to go back to him,” you said, suddenly vehement in your determination. It only increased his panic.

“You don’t know Cazador,” he relented in a whisper, “He could have spies anywhere. I could be gone long before you make it back. If he finds me, I will have no choice but to return.”

“He won’t find you. You’re safe with me,” you murmured back, reaching out to take his hands. It was an odd sensation, being held, made odder still by your initiation of the contact.

“Then take me with you,” he begged, just shy of desperate.

He could feel your thumbs sweeping over the backs of his hands, no doubt a placating gesture to ease the burn of your next words.

“Not today. You need to rest after yesterday’s events.”

“How rich, coming from you,” he snapped, withdrawing his hands from your grasp abruptly.

He caught the hurt that flashed across your delicate features before you managed to school your expression, straightening your spine and squaring your shoulders.

He sighed in defeat, “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” you nodded and turned to leave.

You took a few steps away from him and paused, turning halfway back toward him.

“And I mean it, Astarion. You are safe with me. I will watch your back, so long as you watch mine.”

With nothing but your parting words for reassurance, Astarion returned to his tent, succumbing to the biting cold of dread’s barbed claws.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #astarion pov #unnamed tav #no use of y/n #reader insert #afab tav #bard tav #trauma #angst #astarion needs a hug #but so does tav #soft astarion #past abuse #past torture #emotional hurt/comfort #emotional manipulation #fluff #slow burn #au canon divergence

[whump-dump]

Sidekick is kidnapped by Villain. Villain is about to try and get information from Sidekick but much to Villain’s horror, Sidekick is already bruised and scarred all over. Villain is furious. They roughly grab Sidekick’s face in one hand, but Sidekick doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even utter a word. “Who did this to you?” Villain growls. And there it is. The moment of weakness as Sidekick breaks eye contact and looks down. Villain doesn’t need a verbal reply, they know exactly who they need to kill.

#whump drabble #villain x sidekick #whump #whump prompt #villain #sidekick #sidekick x villain #past abuse #bad hero #good villain #hero whumper #villain caretaker #sidekick whumpee #idk what to tag I’m so out of the loop in the community #my writing

[rgbyshipper101]

Hello! It’s EctoImplosion time! I wrote a fic based off the-oaken-muse art piece! It was a blast conversing with them and exploring ideas! Shoutout to the EI server for a great time and thanks to the mods for helping it to run smoothly.

Go check out The Box Cat!

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Pairings: Box Ghost/Lunch Lady

Warnings: Creator chose not to use archive warnings

Tags: past abuse; neglect; post traumatic stress disorder (trigger tags are here; more tags in fic)

Rating: Teen and up Audiences

#ectoimplosion2023 #ectoimplosion #danny phantom #fanfic #box ghost #read tags on AO3 and here #past abuse #neglect #post traumatic stress disorder

[go-whump-in-the-night]

a character who desperately craves touch, who needs to be held and cared for so much it's eating them up inside. and that same character was hurt so badly in the past that even the gentlest brush of fingertips on their skin makes them fall right back into the person they were before. do they react with fear? or anger?

#whump #whump prompt #emotional whump #touch starvation #touch aversion #past abuse

[em-writes-stuff]

hidden scars

warnings: (implied) past abuse, child whumpee

characters: villain, sidekick

1020 words

a/n: this was in my drafts as needing a part two, but i probably won’t end up doing that. have it as is!

---

Sidekick falls to the ground, air pushed out of their lungs as their back hits the soft ground. Villain advances, glaring menacingly at their small frame.

Sidekick tries to sit up, trying to gain some control over their body, but the pain in their ribcage stops them. Instead, they curl in on themself, sheltering their stomach with their shins. 

Villain crouches down to face them and whispers, “I’ve got you now, Sidekick. No more running. No more hiding.” 

They hold Sidekick’s wrist gently and pull them up, trying their hardest not to aggravate any of their new wounds. 

Sidekick looks at them uncertainly, “Why are you being so…gentle?” 

Villain laughs, “I can hardly in good conscience take you to be tortured for information if you’re injured before we even arrive.” they sling an arm around Sidekick’s waist and start walking. “Besides, you’re only a child. Most of your torture will be psychological.” 

Sidekick laughs dryly, “Oh, goodie.” 

Villain smiles and picks up the pace, not failing to notice how Sidekick favors their left leg and winces when they adjust the arm holding them up. They choose to ignore it for now. 

As soon as they got to the car, Sidekick had crawled to the back seat and hadn’t moved since. Villain sat in the seat in front of them, in an attempt to gain their trust. Villain would have thought they were sleeping, but they could see Sidekick’s eyes wide open. 

“Tell me, Sidekick, why do you work for Hero? What does he do for you?” Villain asks. 

Sidekick turns to face the window. Villain thinks for a moment that Sidekick won’t tell them, but then they speak. 

“Hero… saved my life a long time ago. And I didn’t have anywhere else to go. He took me in and I owe it to him to do what he wants.” They close their eyes and lean their forehead against the cold glass. “Besides, there’s not much else I can do.” 

For the rest of the long car ride, they sit in silence. 

At Villain’s hideout, Henchman opens the car door for Villain and Sidekick, but Sidekick stays in their seat. Villain rolls their eyes and crawls back into the car. They gently touch Sidekick’s arm and they flinch back, hitting their head on the car window. They wince, but say nothing. Villain tilts their head to the side for a moment, but then they reach their arm out for Sidekick to grab. 

“We’re here.” They say simply. 

Sidekick is shown to their new room, which is more impressive than they were expecting. The ceiling was high and a light hung from it. There was a large window on the wall facing a lake. A queen sized bed was covered in blankets and pillows. 

Villain clears their throat and Sidekick quickly turns to look at them. 

“I trust you’ll be comfortable. I’ll come back with a change of clothes and some first-aid supplies in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can get you while I get those?” 

Sidekick shakes their head, blinking in confusion. 

Villain smiles gently and walks out of the room. “I’ll be right back then. I have to lock this door behind me, but that’s just since you’re technically the enemy and a prisoner.” 

Sidekick wanders around the room, checking any spots that could be used to hide things, seeing if there’s any chance the window can be opened (there isn’t), and organizing the things on the bed. The door opens and Villain walks in with an armful of clothes and a first-aid kit. 

“Here, change. Those clothes look really dirty. I’ll wash them for you.” They throw the bundle of clothes at Sidekick and turn around to let them change. 

“Why are you being so kind? Hero told me that you’re cruel.” Sidekick asks. 

Villain closes their eyes and tilts their head up. “Just because I do things that go against Hero’s moral code, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. Hero, of all people, should know that.” 

They can hear Sidekick’s sharp breaths as they aggravate wounds and have to fight every instinct in themself to turn around and help. They know that if they’re to gain Sidekick’s trust, they have to move slowly. 

“Villain?” Sidekick asks with a small tremor in their voice. “Can I have something with long sleeves?” 

“Are you sure? It gets pretty warm here at night.” They turn and see Sidekick. There’s a pile of their clothes on the floor next to them and Villain could swear they saw scars on their arms, but they crossed their arms in front of them too quickly to be sure. 

“I’m sure.” 

Villain nods. “Ok, well, let me dress your wounds first, then I’ll find something.” “I can do it.” 

“Nonsense, I have much more experience than you do in this. Besides, you look like you’re going to pass out. Just sit down and let me.” 

Sidekick shakes their head. “I can do it.” They look down, “Please.” 

“Alright, but I’ll watch just to make sure you do it alright. Don’t want any of these getting infected.” 

They set the first-aid kit on the table and watch as Sidekick cleans their cuts. 

“You’re pretty good at that, kid. Where’d you learn?” they chuckle. “Let me guess, Hero makes you patch him up?” 

Sidekick grits their teeth, “Not quite.” They hiss as they dab some rubbing alcohol on one of the bigger cuts. Villain tilts their head and Sidekick looks up at them. “I have to dress my own wounds a lot of the time.” 

Villain nods, not quite knowing what to say. “I’ll go get you a jacket or something.”

Sidekick sighs as the door closes. They finish bandaging the last major cut and lean their head against the back of the chair. They cross their arms in front of them, trying their best to cover the majority of the scars on their arms, but failing pretty miserably. 

Villain comes back into the room and hands Sidekick a large hoodie, trying their best not to stare at the surplus of scars along their skin. 

#em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #sidekick whumpee #villain caretaker #past abuse #hero whumper #sidekick whump #child whumpee #whump #whump fic #whump writing