#the ear fluid build up is the worst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calummss · 8 months

Text

Orange, White and Dark Rosé | Rebekah Mikaelson

masterlist

summary: with cancer slowly eating you alive, you come back to school to see a beautiful girl that has started to make you question everything you thought you knew

pairing: fem! reader x rebekah mikaelson

words: 3.9k

a/n: for my girl kissers!! <33 also i believe this is my longest fic yet… NOT PROOFREAD

You’ve had the worst few months of your life. What started out as a simple cough became more painful throughout the weeks. Each cough as though your lungs were torn from your chest, no air to keep you breathing. Night sweats became drowning; difficulty swallowing became not eating at all.

‘You have pleural mesothelioma, Miss Blanchard.’ The words the doctor uttered still so freshly imprinted on your mind. He continued moving his lips but nothing but inaudible muffles penetrated your ears as the sound of your own heartbeat filled your empty void.

Several nights after your diagnosis you woke up. The air drained from your lungs as fluid started to build up between your lungs and chest wall. The sensation of drowning without water in sight. It was a nightmare. Your body turning on you, ready to take you away despite the care you took to look after it.

Following those events you were pulled out of school, your parents worried sick as their daughter was at risk for involuntary death any minute of any day. The feeling of loneliness only increasing as you spent most days alone in your room; on the chair at your therapist's office; or the dining table chair, eyes piercing through you as you tried to make conversation about anything else but your cancer.

‘Do you need help cutting the chicken?’, ‘Need more water?’, ‘Leave the dishes, sweetheart. Your dad and I’ll get to them.’

Your cancer not only took your life but your maturity, letting people treat you like a damsel in distress, needing help with everything when you wish you could just forget everything bad for one day and live as normally as you could, one day at a time.

‘I’m going back to school,’ you said, placing your cutlery down on the dinner mat, staring onto your plate as you could hear the chewing of rubbery green beans stop.

Your mother grabbed her glass of wine, clearing her throat and washing it down all at once. Your father stared at your mother as she tried to find words that reflected her wish to protect you and to keep you as comfortable as possible.

‘I’m sorry, darling, you said you wanted to go back to school?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I ask what brought this sudden request.’ She neatly folded her ageing hands underneath her chin, her eyes resting on you as your father’s eyes jumped from frame to frame, unsure what to say.

‘I just want to live as normal as possible,’ you let out a sigh, ‘I miss my friends, I miss having to do stuff, I miss…I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ you chuckled, feeling heat rush through your face. ‘I miss homework. School assignments, presentations, stuff I hated before but made me normal. A normal girl living a boring life. I’m missing my chance at a full life just because of this cancer I’m sure will rob me even further as time passes. I need to be able to feel like I belong somewhere despite…all this.’

Their eyes stayed focused on you, soft eyebrows trying to interpret what you needed the most in a time where everything slowly started to deteriorate.

‘Have you thought about what your school life would be like now, Y/n?’ Your father engulfed your hands, his thumb rubbing circles as he often did. ‘You would need to carry around an oxygen tank in case of an emergency. You complained every day that the school day was hard and now it will be three times that of before. I understand where you're coming from but I need you to know what decision you are making…Your mother and I only want what’s best for you and if that is going back to school so be it. But we will have to make sure you are okay at all times.’

‘I really do want to go back…’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fine,’ your mother took your other free hand. ‘You can go back to school. But promise us that when things get hard that you will tell us and may have to take a step back from school again.’

‘I promise.’ You smiled at them, squeezing their hands tight. ‘I will accept my limits when they come.’

The very next week you stood back on the familiar ground of Mystic Falls High; home to the timberwolves. The bell you dreaded every morning , rather wanting to exchange gossip with Elena and Caroline. However that particular morning you have never felt more excited to walk through the halls. Hallways you haven’t seen in a few months. Faces of fellow students.

Walking through the door you noticed a heap of pitiful glances, welcome backs, get well soons and prayers. It wasn't unusual for everyone to know what had happened to you, Mystic Falls was a small town after all. Their words of condolences were sweet. You cherished them. But when you live on limited time, burned out hope and terminal cancer with a survival rate of 9.6%, it was hard to pretend like you would get better when their words could easily be uttered to a person that simply caught the common cold. Nothing could fix you. The only thing you had were fifteen months to make sure to drain every last drop of experiences life has to offer. No prayers, no words of the world could help—only medicine could. And even that was a shot in the dark. Caroline had offered her vampire blood to you on more than one occasion, but you were convinced that it wouldn’t help so you declined it over and over again, continuing to deny the chance at a normal life that you craved more than anything.

Heading towards your locker, you placed your emergency oxygen tank inside, the dust of month’s absences piling on old books you had left behind the day the cough became too unbearable.

Closing the door you made your way to your first class of the day; history taught by Mr. Saltzman. Bracing yourself to walk into a room full of eyes, you noticed that the classroom was empty for the exception of a girl. She was beautiful. The type of beautiful you would see beyond your day, wondering whether or not you would see them again. She had light hair, almost as white as her skin that bore freckles across the apples of her cheeks and nose that stuck between pages of a book that let her long black lashes show. Full lips pursed, knitted eyebrows framing her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you felt rude for interrupting her obvious devotion to studying. ‘Is this history with Mr. Saltzman?’

‘Yes.’ She answered boorishly, eyes stuck on the pages, rushing her words as she paid no attention to you.

‘Where is everyone?’ God you were embarrassed to disrupt her again.

‘How would I know?’ She sighed, finally looking up. Her blue eyes locking with yours as you appreciated her beauty, wishing you looked like her. To be so flawless.

‘Oh, I’m sorry—I just—ehm, it’s kind of my first day back in a few months and the lack of students is making me doubt if I am in fact in the right room…’

‘No, this is the correct room,’ she stopped looking at her notes, her crystal eyes glued to your face as you continued to study her details. ‘So you went here before then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you stop?’

‘Got sick.’ You pressed your lips together, sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans that clung to your thighs.

‘What sickness?’ She asked with a genuine look of interest, almost as if it were her first time encountering a sick person. Lucky her.

‘Cancer.’

‘Ohh,’ she puckered up her lips, squinting at you, her words confusingly sounding concerned and uninterested. ‘That sucks.’

‘Yeah,’ you breathed, the continuous standing started to make itself known as your shoulders started to feel lighter. ‘It sucks.’

‘Well you are free to sit next to me. I don’t tend to be liked by most.’ Her pearly teeth peaked between dark roseish lips. ‘I’m Rebekah by the way,’

‘Y/n,’ you smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Walking over to sit down next to her, the sudden sound of familiar voices washed over you as Caroline and Elena came through the entrance, their eyes widening as soon as they saw you standing back in the classroom that had felt your absence the past months.

‘Y/n, oh my god!’ They almost shouted in union as they sprinted to hug you tight, their arms merging into your back as you reunited with your friends. No hospital visits or phone calls, just friends seeing each other in school like you always have.

‘Come sit with us!’ Caroline dragged you towards the front of the room, your eyes turning back to Rebekah who had observed your encounter with the girls, her eyes smiling back at you, her spark diminished as you parted from her.

In your next class you saw Rebekah again.

Again sitting alone at the dissecting table and when you made up your mind to sit next to her, Rebekah noticing your upcoming footsteps, Elena and Caroline barged through the door like they had before. Pulling you towards the opposite end of where she was sitting, her seat staying vacant as her eyes continued to find you throughout the lesson.

‘Rebekah, wait!’ You called after her, the last sound of the bell signalling the end of the school day.

Rebekah turned around, her blonde hair framing her face. Strands of hair blowing across her face, caught amongst her lashes. The sun reflecting on her skin.

‘About your offer to sit next to you,’ you lifted your arm to block the blazing sun. ‘I would like it if you held that spot for me tomorrow. If you still want me to sit next to you…’

‘Sure, it’s not like it’ll be occupied anytime soon. It’s yours to take.’

‘Okay then…’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n, okay?’

‘Sure, yeah totally,’ you cleared your throat as you mentally prepared for the criticism you were about to hold above your head. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Rebekah gave you a last smile, ‘Bye.’

‘Bye,’ you whispered, her feet already taking off towards the other side of your way home, leaving behind a manipulative smell of vanilla and macadamia nut, that you swore was the nicest fragrance you had smelled in a long time.

The next day you came walking back through the class again, finding Rebekah by herself at her assigned spot, her hand swiftly moving across her page.

‘Good morning, Y/n.’ She greeted, her eyes never leaving her paper.

‘How could you tell it was me?’

‘I smelled your strawberry perfume before you even entered the room,’ she finally lifted her head to reveal her face.

‘Do you like it?’ What is wrong with me?????

‘I do.’ Nevermind.

‘You don’t mind if I keep my word, right?’ You eyes up the chair next to her, waiting for her response, silently hoping that no one would barge in to seat you away from her.

‘Feel free to use all the space you need.’

You chuckled, letting your feet carry you to the table next to her, her familiar scent back in your memory as you took out your school supplies, feeling her gaze on you.

‘So,’ you turned your head to her body already turned towards you. ‘Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before?’

‘Yeah, I am. I moved here a couple of weeks ago. My brother has been here for a month now and I wanted a change of scenery.’ She let out a breath. ‘There’s only so much of New Orleans you can take.’

‘New Orleans? That is very different from Mystic Falls…’ You raised your eyebrows with a grin, your armpit resting over the back of the chair, legs crossed, turned towards her. ‘Do you like it here?’

‘So far I do…’ Rebekah glanced at you, a shimmer of light swimming amongst her pale eyes.

‘That’s good…’ You stared back because it was the only thing you could do.

Her hand reached for your hair, taking a strand of it and twirling it around her index finger, gently laying the curls heated with her body temperature on your shoulder, ‘You have really nice hair.’

‘Thank you,’ you felt a rush of heat make its way to your cheeks, your stomach starting to feel queasy as you let her words repeat in your mind. ‘I love your— well actually everything about you is really beautiful.’

‘You are too kind.’

‘I wouldn’t lie.’

‘I know you’re not.’

‘Good…’ Your eyes couldn’t part from her, her face burned into the back of your mind, still wanting to stare at her as long as you could. Her smile bringing warmth to you.

‘I wouldn’t lie either,’ she repeated.

‘Good.’

The teacher came in, disturbing the awful long eye contact, both cleared by loud coughs, Rebekah and your eyes settling to the front of the class; no more looks being exchanged for the rest of the lesson, though you fought the urge to catch a glimpse.

‘Do you have anything planned today?’ Rebekah and you walk out of the building, the school day coming to an end as grey clouds started to gather above you.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Would you like to come over to mine?’ She turned her face to you. ‘We could watch a movie, bake something, I don’t know. Do something typical for a teenage girl.’

Typical for a teenage girl. Normalcy. She treated you normally. Never once mentioning the fact you were sick or if you were okay with it. She treated you like an equal.

‘I would love to.’ You replied, feeling glad that a person could forget about everything shitty in your life and talk to you like you were just like them.

Rebekah drove you to her home, finding out that she had a rather large heep in possession. The kind of car you’d take to the beach on an early summer morning; running towards the cold water as sand stuck to your naked skin. Rebekah was a good driver, unlike your father that made you glad that you had health insurance…

Seemingly arriving at her house, a big mansion greeted you. Surrounded by trees, a long driveway leading to the mansion’s entrance.

‘This is your house?’ You asked, eyes glued onto the building, imagini how many room it must’ve had. How many square feet it covered.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s so nice.’

‘I know,’ she chuckled, unbuckling her seatbelt. ‘I have to admit that my brother does have great taste when it comes to architecture. Suppose it’s his only good trait.

‘You have a brother?’

‘Too many…’

You let out a laugh, you too unbuckled your seatbelt to step out of her car, feeling so small as you walked towards the door. The interior of the house was just as beautiful. Simple yet classy Rebekah threw her keys onto one of the dressers that stood by the door and told you to follow her, your head turning left and right, mesmerised by everything you took in.

‘Rebekah.’ You suddenly heard a male voice call from behind you. He had a nice accent just like she did.

‘What, Nik?’ She didn’t sound too happy to see him.

‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

‘This is Y/n from school. Don’t eat her, she has cancer.’

You listened to her with a quizzical look on your face, looking at her as she mirrored your expression.

‘What?’ She asked.

‘Vampire?’ You asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Hmm,’

‘You don’t seem surprised…’

‘I have lived in Mystic Falls all my life,’ you let out a jestful breath. ‘Nothing surprises me anymore.’

‘Well,’ his voice made you turn your back on Rebekah, his tone full of pride and confidence, ‘welcome to my humble abode.’

‘Humble is a great word to describe all of this,’ you grinned, looking at the room once more. ‘But it is really nice. You have good taste.’

‘I know I do. Best get going then,’ he pointed towards Rebekah whose facial expressions couldn’t have made it clearer that she wanted to get away from him.

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’

You paced towards Rebekah who told you to follow her, different hallways leading towards a really nice kitchen.

She grabbed all the ingredients that you thought was going to make a cake and watched as her eyes crinkled, so focused on finding everything that you needed.

‘Are we making a cake?’

‘We are,’ she snuck a quick grin, her head pack in the cabinet searching for a baking tin.

‘What type of cake?’

‘Well,’ she resurfaced, placing the tin on the counter, her cheeks lightly flushed. ‘I kind of asked Elena what your favourite cake was and she said your favourite was a lemon cake, so we are going to make that. Unless she lied…’

‘No, no,’ you tried hiding a grin, fingers picking at your palm. ‘It is my favourite.’

‘Good.’ Rebekah exclaimed, almost throwing the flour at you. ‘You'll do dry and I’ll do the wets.’

Continuing to make the cake, Rebekah was whisking the cake batter enthusiastically, dancing along to Stacy’s Mom that blasted through the stereo. Carelessly throwing her limbs up and down, swaying her head with the biggest grin you had ever seen…She was so beautiful

‘Oh,’ Rebekah gasped, your mouth widening in shocked as wet drops of batter landed on your face, Rebekah accidentally swinging the wrong arm to the rhythm.

You let out a giggle, trying to swipe away the batter but it was no ise. Every stroke just spreading it more evenly across your face. ‘Shit.’

‘Here I got it,’ she set aside the bowl and came closer, placing her thumb on your cheek, getting the batter on her finger, her eyes momentarily longing on you. She retracted her thumb and licked off the excess, eyes never breaking contact.

You stared at her for what felt like forever, captivated by her face; her eyes, her lips, all whispering to you that you should come closer. You leaned in, your heart beating so powerfully you ought to stop, exhaustion that came with the sickness. But you didn’t. Neither did she. Her breath ricocheted off your cheeks, her glimmering eyes infatuating yours as you could feel your lips take the lead but before your skins touched, a loud opening of the door made you jump back, looking back at what had caused you to separate.

‘What do you want, Elijah?’ Rebekah asked forcefully, the older man’s eyes glimpsing at both you and her

‘Do I need to want something walking around in my house?’

You observed the two, their banter making it clear that he too must be one of the ‘too many’ brothers she had talked about.

Feeling queasy, you quickly said goodbye to Rebekah and Elijah, telling them you weren’t feeling too well, a perk when being the teenager with cancer. Everyone at all times will believe it.

You had to get away from Rebekah. She was clouding your mind and falling for a girl wasn’t supposed to happen. You’ve been with a guy or two and those feelings you felt when you were around them, you recognised as the image of her resurrected itself in your mind. You liked her, but you couldn’t like her. At least not right now.

‘I’m home!’ You called into the house, the smell of grilled eel filtering through the air: your favourite.

‘We’re in the kitchen!’

You placed your backpack next to the stairs, ready to take them to your room once you were done with dinner. Entering the kitchen you saw your mother plate the last of the cut up eel pieces onto the plate, placing it on the table with some salads and rice. Your father stood by the kitchen aisle making some mocktails from his newly purchased mocktail cookbook thing you got him recently.

After dinner you went up to your room, putting the oxygen tube on your face as today’s exhaustion came running to you. Thinking back on the moments that increased your heartbeat.

‘Honey, are you okay?’ You heard your father’s footsteps approaching your room, leaning against the door frame.

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, glancing at your oxygen tank. ‘Hard day. Have to catch my breath. Literally.’

He chuckled, coming in to hug you. ‘Just make sure to tell us once you’ve reached your limit, okay? I know you like to act tough and pretend that you can still keep up but you need to have a reality check. You’re not the same as before and that’s okay. No one is trying to put you in a box. You just need to accept that certain limits cannot be reached anymore…’

‘Yeah I know, dad. I know. It’s just hard having to turn my back on my past life.

The next few weeks Rebekah and you pretended like the moment back at her house didn’t happen. Continuing to sit next to each other in class, meeting at each other’s houses or going out in town.

It was easier ignoring the moment than trying to talk about it because if you were being honest, what would you even say? You liked her as a friend. Nothing more. You’ve known her for less than a month so how could your heart possibly flutter at the thought of her touch on your skin.

Then you were invited to the Mikaelson ball, a card delivered to your doorstep. On the back Rebekah’s writing said, to meet her there to clear stuff up.

So when Friday came, you managed to find a dress and head towards the mansion you had previously entered before. Only this time you were hooked to oxygen after a water build up episode that caused your lungs to fill with water.

Arriving at the mansion you were greeted by servants who took your coat, without looking, wanting to grab your tank thinking it was luggage. ‘I’ll be needing this…’

‘Hi.’

You turned around, already knowing whose soft voice it belonged to.

‘Hi.’

‘You look gorgeous.’ She awed in amazement.

‘You too.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ you noticed her lingering stare on your tank. ‘Lungs filled with water. Nothing crazy.’

‘We need to talk. I’m sorry.’

‘No I’m sorry.’ You said.

‘For what.?’

Compelled in the moment you pulled the last of your confidence together and stepped closer to Rebekah, who looked unsure of what you were about to do. ‘For this.’ You placed your lips on Rebekah’s, gently kissing her lips as a thousand thoughts filled your mind, all screaming to stop, but you didn’t want to.

Rebekah’s hand found your face as she deepened the kiss,careful not to tangle the oxygen tube.

You’ve never felt this way before. You thought Rebekah was just the type of pretty you wanted to be, not knowing that she was just someone you wanted to be with. And with dying time there wasn’t another person you would rather kiss other than her.

The start of a short love story; the dead and dying.

346 notes · View notes

ilikesaladforks · 1 month

Text

most hinged rika fan

rika's design means a lot to me because her particular build is something you don't ever see (at least, i haven't so don't shoot me)

design stuff i love but it gets more unhinged as you go down the list

wearing a men's shirt (buttons on right instead of left)

wearing a very visibly loose men's shirt (loose enough that she rolls her sleeves up once before rolling it up again on top of that)

foot tapping habit (denoting irritation, which she also does in battle when you damage her babies. she's got a resting bitch face up but you are absolutely getting on her nerves!!!!)

NO BOOB NOT A SINGLE BOOB IN SIGHT CHEST FLATTER THAN GRUSHA FOR ALL YOU KNOW HER BOOB THERE'S NOT A PEAK TO BE SIGHTED

that itty bitty little bit of shave at her parting

PIERCED EARS EQUAL TO THE NUMBER OF TIMES SHE STABBED MY HEART

her legs are longer than her body and i want to highlight this so much that the paper tears from the amount of highlighter fluid being used because sure long legs are a pretty normal thing but rika's long legs are practically disproportionate like if you compare her with literally anyone, i fucking dare you, just put her in game model next to literally anyone her legs are actually longer than they (typically) should be for her height she has such a tiny fucking waist and the fact that the anime normalised her proportions (understandable. anime. just anime things. not the worst thing that could come out of anime concept art so i close an eye at this) makes me shed a single tear. she has no fucking torso she's so lanky her legs look like they trip over themselves on the regular and that's rika pokemon for you

her shoulders are so broad in concept art (ESPECIALLY IN HER OFFICIAL ART) THOSE SHOULDERS COULD CARRY SO MUCH ON HER BACK LIKE THE PALDEA LEAGUE

DID I MENTION SHE HAS NO BOOBS

the comically smooth curve that you can draw from her shoulder to her legs that gets straighter once you get to her waist down on her official art is a big chef's kiss i can't just compliment the chef i need to french kiss them

broad shoulders that get her unexpectedly occupying more horizontal space than she looks like she should mmmm MMMM mmMMmmM

boobless woman

#pokemon rika #rika simping on main

24 notes · View notes

thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 10 months

Note

The problems I have with HP's world building and the Wizarding World as a whole can be summed up perfectly with Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. Sounds like a appropriately whimsical treat for a secret magical society. But, they beans flavoured like bodily fluids. We know there's ear wax and vomit flavoured beans, but I bet there are... other flavours.

And the question is, why? Why do that? Why sell something to children where there's a chance they might end up eating a bean that tastes and smells exactly like human shit.

Like, obviously, Rowling wrote it as a funny bit in a children's book that I doubt she expected people to dissect and nitpick over twenty years after she wrote it. But, in-universe, it shows that wizards just lack basic common sense. it's a wonder they made it to the 21st century without going extinct.

As weird as it sounds, I actually find the wizarding world fascinating in that it makes an eerie amount of sense: it's just not what JKR nor anyone else thinks it is/what it's supposed to be.

There's a larger post to be made but to me the wizarding world reeks of an extremely isolated and inbred society, complacent in their use of a technology they no longer understand and slowly forgetting aspects of that technology including the underlying fundamentals, neighbors to very different societies they feel threatened by for all they won't admit as much, and a society that has roots in western traditions but missed out on much of the Enlightenment/Post Enlightenment British history.

So, we see a world that's like Britain but... not...

The professors are there to teach, not go provide emotional guidance or emotional intervention of any kind with the students (read anti-bullying measures). There doesn't seem to be a child welfare or any kind of welfare system in place (orphans get a stipend to attend Hogwarts, but we see no mention of a wizarding orphanage/foster care system or money allotted to those like Ron Weasley who are poor but not Muggleborn). There are two historians ever mentioned and from what we see of Hogwarts a History it is not a modern western historical approach that's covered there. Everyone's extremely closely related and there are no actual positions beyond those a) made for yourself through entrepreneurship b) the ever bloated Ministry. They have no understanding of Muggles at all and those who claim to or wish to tend to be... grossly offensive is the only word I can think of.

It's a great satirical world of a decaying society and, most important, not quite one we'd be familiar with.

But this has nothing to do with your actual question (well, it does, but it's tangential).

To get back to the damned beans, from what we see, the wizarding world loves practical jokes and slapstick humor. Given they're wizards, serious injuries seem relatively easy to repair. If you start vomiting slugs all day, there's a potion for that. If you lose your bones, there's a potion for that. Blow off your hands, there's probably a potion for that.

What that means is that physical injuries in the wizarding world tend not to really matter. Unless you're using dark curses (see Bill's torn up face in HBP), you can probably get whatever it is fixed quickly. Which means that wizards find slapstick style practical jokes very funny.

Which gets us back to the candy.

The beans aren't alone, there are also the acid pops that actually burn through your tongue, blood pops that taste like blood, chocolate frogs which will jump away from you, ice mice that do... something I forget, but point being that we see wizards get very excited about the prospect of not only magic in their candies but some element of danger/just awfulness with it.

That's the exciting gamble of the beans. Sure, you might end up with a nice flavor, you might, but then you could end up with vomit or diarrhea flavored. When the latter happens, you can make a big show to your friends, "OH NO, I GOT THE VOMIT BEAN! OH HELLS, I GOT THE VOMIT BEAN! THIS IS THE WORST! I GOT THE VOMIT BEAN!" and everyone laughs at and with you over your terrible rotten luck over getting the vomit bean while Jimmy over there got strawberry.

It's kind of like a demented version of playing one of the first few editions of Mario Party: someone's going to be fucked over, that's just how the game goes, the delightful enjoyment of it is seeing who the loser is and lording it over them when you steal all their stars they eat the vomit bean.

Basically, you're kind of right about Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean. They exist because it's funny, I just think the wizards find it funny too.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the wizarding world #anti the wizarding world #meta #headcanon #opinion

110 notes · View notes

bizlybebo · 3 months

Note

Yknow what, fuck it, I know next to nothing about JRWI but I hope I wrangled a few of your favs

A gender headcanon and a headcanon about a weird quirk of theirs: Caspian

A headcanon about their family, and a headcanon about anger: Jay Ferin

An appearance headcanon, and a headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them: Riptide

OHHH HELLO THIS IS SO NICE !!!! HELLO HOPE THE DAY IS BEAUTIFUL AND KIND WHEREVER YOU ARE !!!

caspian: ough he is SOO gender to begin with. i like to think of him as like a big clusterfuck of gender sillies,, specifically like. non-binary/gender-fluid/transfem/demiboy. they use he/they/ae pronouns to me

i think a silly thing about them is that he is a traitor is very throwable. like ae just kinda rag dolls, wiwi style, but in a much more agile way. during the paramount championship, he and john actually attacked via john straight up throwing them and him using that momentum for an attack.

jay ferin: YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING ASKING ME ABOUT HER FAMILY AND HER ANGER RAGHHH

the ferin family’s known for their iconic orange hair. jayson ferin has very straight, vibrant hair. mae ferin, who married into the family, has brown hair, but it’s very curly.

so, building off this hc, i like to think ava ferin had the same fiery hair as her father, and that it was also straight. jay still has the iconic hair color of the ferins, but her hair is very curly, representing the remaining love she still has for her family/legacy, but also showing how she does not exactly fit the mold of the ferin name.

and hee ANGER pugoaifohigiai something i could go on about all day.

i think jay has a lot of pent up anger she doesn’t let go of, and so oftentimes there’s nowhere else for it to go but inward. of course, she’s found healthier ways of managing it but it’s still there. i think she’s always been angry at herself, most of all. i think grief manifests in anger for her,, like anger is the strongest stage of grief she goes through (where for chip it’s bargaining and for gillion it’s denial)

riptide is the name of the general main campaign but thank you for trying !! just gonna do some rapid fire ones for albatrio

appearance:

-chip has very dark eyes, the kind that always reflects a lot of starlight (coming from a guy who always compares fnc to the sky and the sea)

-WINGED JAY FERIN NEED I SAY MORE

-gill’s hair is veeeeery long. i hc that in the undersea, one only cuts their hair as a sign of failure/after they have lost a battle. he nearly cut it after ep 53 but jay convinced him not to. he’s stopped cutting it since then

worst thing that happened to them:

-chip: i mean you could obviously go straight ahead and say it was the events of the hole in the sea/sinking of the black rose, but honestly i think it was the aftermath. i think it was about having grown up as nothing, then finding stability for only a couple years just to be tossed back into a turbulent life of bared teeth and stealing and violence. i think that his relationship with price is a really good instrument for showing that.

-jay: similar thing here— i don’t think it was just the fact that ava died that hurt her, but the fact that nobody seemed to fucking care, not in any way that mattered. of course they all grieved ava, but her father was never around for jay when she needed him most. i think it was growing up without ava and with a shattered family that hurt her the most.

-gill: changing tempo here. i think that when he was banished (one of if not the worst thing to happen to him) his hair was cut very short— like up to his ears. the first time chip and jay ever saw him was with such short hair, and he probably felt somewhat ashamed being seen like that.

#vixen rambles #jrwi #jrwi riptide #jrwi spoilers #jrwi riptide spoilers

14 notes · View notes

visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

His

Bo Sinclair x Victim!GN!Reader

3k. Reader is a captive in Bo's dungeon falling prey to Stockholm syndrome and this means dubcon under duress. Forced multiple orgasm, praise & mild degradation, blood & pain kink, bondage and vibrator use. Bo is hardcore manipulating the reader because this is not soft Bo, this is worst Bo.

You're almost used to it by now, the way he takes and takes from you no matter how little you think you have left to give. But today marks a new milestone in your relationship, and today he is going to give you something. Companion piece to Date Night.

Your ears were ringing, the fluorescents blown bright and blurry in your eyes, all but blinding you. Someone was whimpering. That someone was you.

Your head fell forward and you met his eyes. He grinned at you, your slick on his chin and your blood smeared across his cheeks. “Well wasn’t that special,” he deadpanned, drawing a thumb across his lips.

Your hips jerked helplessly. The vibrator he’d shoved inside of you was still kicking away, tightening the claws of pleasure around you until they pierced and ached. Every clench of your thighs sent a fresh, warm tickle of blood creeping across your skin. The slicing had come after the vibrator.

“C’mon, one more,” he said. “Y’got one more, I can see it.”

You shook your head violently. Language was slippery. A monstrous climax was building fast behind the pain, beating against the door. “N…nah – “

“Y’need a little more help?”

Your heart was a frightened bird. “No!”

“Think y’need some help.”

“No – ohhh.”

He touched you, just a nudge, just one knuckle of his pointer finger sweeping over your most sensitive spot, still wet with his spit. The dam broke. All the air whooshed from your lungs as the tide swept over your head, sucked you out head over heels, you had time for half a breath and then you were screaming, straining against your bonds, collapsing beneath the pressure beating relentless through your fragile form.

“There it is,” he said, almost to himself, because you certainly weren’t listening. “What a slut.”

You moaned loudly, twitching, caught in a perpetual state of orgasm, everything gold but for the scarlet pain in your thighs, but even that was exquisite, and he knew it, and you hated him.

“I’ll be damned but you are a treat.”

Agony, sharp and white, lanced into your brain from your right side as he licked up the length of one of the cuts. You inhaled sharply and felt a fresh set of tears burble over your lashes. He made a sound of approval and stood up suddenly. You jerked and it hurt and it felt so good.

“Doin’ so well, bunny.” You met his gaze the best you could, his face out of focus. He touched your cheek and you gasped. “Sweet thing,” he murmured, and locked his lips over your open mouth. Your body, disloyal, betrayed you again with a whine when his tongue slipped over yours. Your blood on his breath was salty and rich. The heat in your pelvis was roiling. It was going to consume you; you were going to combust underneath him.

“Wish I had time to fuck you proper,” he said, chucking your chin, reaching down between your legs to ease the vibrator free. You let out a wavering cry of relief, shaking violently as the waves finally receded. “But we got a big day ahead of us.”

The vinyl beneath you was slippery with your sweat and other bodily fluids. You sat limp, a broken toy, frayed and quivering. You stared blankly ahead and tried to remember how to think coherent thoughts as he buzzed around the room, cleaning his tools, putting them away.

Hours. It had been hours. And to think you’d almost been glad to see him this morning.

You’d had a dream. Nothing vivid, nothing cohesive. Just the feeling of safety, contentment. A strong arm around you, a hand in yours. It was blissful and bright. And when the sensation coalesced into pictures, when the dream gave you eyes, you turned them upward and found yourself looking at him. That proud, angelic face, square and sloping. And there was no fear of anyone or anything, because he was the most terrifying thing in the world, and you were his.

But dreams weren’t for you anymore, were they?

The ringing in your ears faded. He stepped back into your field of vision, hands on his hips. “You’re a mighty fine mess, darlin’,” he remarked. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He started to undo your restraints, paused. “Almost forgot. What d’we say?”

You hadn’t forgotten. The words had been heavy on your tongue, just waiting for the signal. “Th-thank you.”

He smiled, and in spite of it all, he was so handsome it hurt. “Welcome.”

Once your left hand was free, he offered you a cup, and despite your trembling you gulped the water with gusto. Your lips were sticky and your throat was sore and the water was like a healing balm. You stopped to breathe and he peered inside. “Whole thing, c’mon now.” You obeyed. You were good at that.

When he took the cup back and set it on the workbench, you realized you were unbound. You didn’t move; couldn’t, maybe. He slipped his arm around you and lifted you out of the chair onto your unreliable feet. He’d left your hands uncuffed. You slumped against him. Your thighs stung something awful.

He half-carried you to the shower, turned it on for you, chuckled when you sank to the ground without the strength to stand. “Gotta do everythin’ myself around here. Hold tight, sugar.”

The water pelting your back felt like forgiveness. You let it comfort you as you watched him strip down, hanging his clothes on a hook on the wall. His chest and his groin were shadowed in dark hair. He was stronger than he looked with his narrow waist and hips. He was still half-hard from the morning’s activities. You saw the scars on his ankles, a matching set to accompany his wrists. Absently, you wondered how it would feel to touch them. He knew your body so well, but you were barely acquainted with his.

He caught you staring, cracked a lopsided smile. “Like what ya see?”

You stiffened as he stepped into the shower, but all he did was adjust the showerhead and lower himself to a seat behind you. He laid his legs out long on either side of yours and pulled you back against him. You were snagged somewhere between panic and exhaustion and your breath came labored. Your nerves were frazzled with heavy pain and weightless pleasure. The tiles were changing shape before your eyes, expanding, contracting. You could feel his dick against your tailbone.

“Relax, honey. Relax.” He trickled water from his hand down your front, caressed your hip, wove his arm around your middle. “Ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

This was comical. You laughed, and it was only when he didn’t react that you realized it was only in your head. Your psyche was sore and throbbing like a bruise. A thick sob lodged in your throat. You were broken, you felt broken, this is how broken feels. You tried to take a deep breath but it crumbled into a whine and then you were weeping.

“Aww, shhh, why you cryin’, baby?” He gave you a gentle squeeze, nuzzled your ear. “Didn’t I make you feel good?”

You nodded reflexively. You were so spent, sagging against him, head lolling into the crook of his neck.

“Gonna clean you up, then I got somethin’ for ya since you been so good. Think you’re gonna like it.”

His words gripped your stomach like a vice. Incredible that the tang of fear still sprang to your mouth at the slightest provocation. Incredible that he hadn’t run out of games to play.

You were compliant as he worked up a lather and then washed you with his hands. He was tender, touching you like a lover, not an inch of skin left wanting. He stroked the length of your arms, laced his fingers through yours, squeezed gently. He kissed your neck as he rubbed your chest, one hand sliding over your stomach, the other dipping carefully between your legs.

His touch was soothing and you had held on so tightly for so long you couldn’t bear it anymore and impossibly, you relaxed, a little at first and then all at once. You released a soft sigh, let your eyes waver shut, let your fists uncurl.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Good.” He tilted you forward and ran his hands down your back, massaged your shoulders. You groaned, rolled your neck, arched your back as he worked out the knots he had put there. “Y’like that?” You made a sound in the affirmative. His hands were big and his grip was strong and it was a different kind of pain they caused now, blunt and welcome.

“Lemme clean those cuts, sugar. ‘S gonna sting.” You opened your eyes, furrowed your brow. He sensed your tension returning, kissed the back of your neck. “Has to be done.”

You leaned back against him, hesitantly placed your hands on his thighs. He never let you touch him; your wrists were always bound anyway. He hooked his feet beneath your ankles, pried your legs open, and with fresh soap he scrubbed careful circles over your wounds. There were six of them. It hurt like a motherfucker and your breath hissed through clenched teeth.

“I know,” he said. “Be brave for me.”

You wanted to be brave. You had been so brave. But it was so hard. You dug your nails into your palms and bit your tongue, didn’t make a sound, watched the lather turn pink and melt down the drain.

“All done. Y’did good.” He kissed your cheek, squeezed the unbroken flesh of your thighs. His praise made your heart sing and your stomach roil. You did good. Doing good kept you alive. You had to stay alive. You wanted to be good.

“Get up,” he said, tapping your ass. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Dressed? Dressed in what? You’d been naked for so long you couldn’t even remember what you’d been wearing the day he wrestled you down those stairs. You remembered it was bloodstained when he tore it off of you, and that was enough remembering.

Some of your strength had returned. Your sex was numb and swollen, and there was an insatiable muscle twitch in your bottom lip, but you dug your fingertips into the seam of the tile around the outside of the shower and wobbled to your feet like a newborn fawn.

His hands on your hips stabilized you, and then he was up behind you, turning off the faucet and brushing against your back as he leaned over you to grab a towel. He tapped your arm and you raised them both so he could wrap the towel around you. You clutched it like a security blanket, shivering. He snuck past you, dried himself off quickly and pulled his clothes back on, then flashed you a smile.

“Alright, kitten, c’mon.”

You pinned your spasming lip between your teeth and followed him cautiously around the corner, clutching the towel like a shield. He had brought a bag with him this morning, and from it he produced a pair of plain cotton underwear. Immediately the sight of it brought you to the verge of tears.

He tilted his head, regarded you with amusement. “Here, I’ll letcha do it yourself.”

You took the underwear from him, unwrapped the towel and set it in his waiting hand. Careful not to brush your cuts, you pulled the garment on and the second it settled against your skin you felt like a person again. It was like Cinderella in the fucking moonlight. It was magical. You looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he was smirking. God, you hated him, and you were so grateful, and your mind was dissolving, and you thought maybe you needed him.

“I got more if y’want it,” he said casually.

“Please,” you said in a hoarse and wavering voice.

His smirk widened. “'Course, baby, anythin' for you.” He handed you a large black t-shirt, soft with wear, the Nine Inch Nails logo cracked and peeling on the front. “This used to be mine.”

Your breath snagged within your lungs as you pulled it over your head. The hem fell just above your wounds. Never had you felt anything so comfortable, so reassuring, as the ringspun cotton of that t-shirt. It smelled fresh and clean and like a world that existed somewhere outside of your hell and you pulled the collar up and tucked your chin to inhale the scent.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and you meant it. You felt the tears spill over as you stared down at your body, covered for the first time in weeks, and you didn't even try to stop them.

“C’mon now.” He reached toward you, hooked the hem of the t-shirt with two fingers and tugged you closer, looped an arm around you and squeezed your ass. “Don’t start that again, they’re jus’ clothes.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “You want a smoke before we go?”

You furrowed your brow. “…go?”

“Mmhm.” His finger slid down your cheek along the track of your tears. “’S a big day, darlin’. Bringin’ you home to meet the family.”

His words hit your brain like bullets. Home. Family. Visions of the Sawyer house, furniture made of bones, one thousand corpses in underground tunnels materialized behind your eyes.

You searched his face for clues, for some expectation, something like reassurance from the man who had managed to reduce your world to him and him alone and was now about to yank back the curtains and let something back in. You didn’t notice the way your fist gripped his shirt like a lifeline. But he did, and he smiled.

“Think you need a cigarette. We got time.”

He drew the pack from his pocket, flipped it open for you. You removed two by default, placed them both in your mouth without thinking, your mind still hung up and struggling on his words. You caught him eyeing your lips around the smokes like he was watching you doing something dirty. The way he lifted the flame of the lighter to the tips made you feel like you were doing something dirty.

He held your gaze as you pulled his cigarette from your mouth, offered it to him; he opened his mouth and his lips and his tongue stole your attention and obediently you placed the butt in the corner of his mouth and when he took a drag you knew he was savoring the smoke and the way it mixed with the taste of your spit.

His grip around your waist relaxed but you stayed pressed against him, hand unclenched and resting on his stomach. His warmth had become familiar; the shape of his body was known and understood. You supposed that as long as he was with you, you could transcend this tiny basement room, venture out somewhere else. As long as he was there to guide you through the unknown.

Yeah, you were pretty sure you needed him.

The idea of escape flickered frantically like a choking ember in the deepest, darkest part of your brain. Escape. You supposed you would like to escape. But the size of that undertaking grew with every passing day even as you shrunk and assimilated into the grime on the concrete floor. The thought of it alone sapped your strength—the running, the woods. And escape meant taking something from him, and you knew he wouldn’t like that.

You turned your head to blow smoke away from him and rolled your most important question around on your tongue before spitting it out. “If your family likes me…what happens next?”

He raised one eyebrow, looked thoughtful like he hadn’t considered that far. “Well, they’re a pretty particular bunch. But I suppose, if you mind your manners, they might just let you stay up at the house.” He squeezed your hip. “Let you eat at the table…get you some real clothes….” The words fell from his lips like gold, like fairy tale promises. “Y’have to earn your keep,” he said. “Help out with the chores and such. Think you could do that?”

You nodded slowly, then faster. You could do that. You could do anything if it meant you didn’t have to spend another night in that chair.

“I been tellin’ ‘em you’re real well-behaved and polite. Y’ain’t gonna make me a liar, are you?” You shook your head. “Good.” He threw down the stub of his cigarette and you mirrored him. He stepped on the pair of them, dragging his boot across the floor to add to the filth. “I like you, bunny. Break my heart if they tell me I gotta get rid of you.”

He must’ve caught the fear in your eyes because he cooed reassurances, wound his arms around you and cradled you to him. “You’re safe with me, darlin’. I won’t let ‘em touch you.”

He had never held you before, not like this. You trembled inside as you laid your head on his chest. His heartbeat in your ear scared you, ensnared you; how he could be so all-consuming and invincible and still run on the same engine as you did.

Slowly, your arms found their way around his waist and you clung to him like a frightened child. He was everything to you, held your life in his grease-stained hands. You looked up at him and the fluorescents were pure and white like a halo behind his head. You knew he would keep you safe. He wouldn’t let them hurt you. Because you were his.

You settled your head back over his heart. “That’s it, baby.” He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “Be good for me an’ I’ll take care of you.”

And he would, you knew he would. He always did.

He nuzzled your temple. His lips found your ear. “Tell you what,” he whispered, and his voice sent goosebumps over your skin. “I’m really lookin’ forward to fuckin’ you in my bed.”

He gripped your thigh, hitched it around the outside of his leg, pulling you in tighter, breaking open the tentative clots of your wounds. You winced and then he was kissing you and your soft squeak of pain was transmuted into something desperate and hungry and pleading and lost. He was chewing you up and spitting you back out and it was okay, maybe.

You kissed him back, because you wanted to be good, and you wanted to survive, and damn you but you wanted to kiss him back, because that made it feel like something else. Something better. Something good.

You clenched his shirt in your fists. You felt him smile against your lips.

Your blood soaked into the cloth of his jeans.

Thank you to @leatherfaceologist for beta reading for me! One last note: the discarded title for this piece was Love Languages, because Bo does indeed employ each of the five love languages in this and yes I know we are his captive but come oooonn I'm so fucked up we're all fucked up he's so toxic I need him send hel-- *I am dragged away from the grocery store intercom microphone*

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfiction #slasher x reader #my writing

337 notes · View notes

cardierreh15 · 1 year

Text

The Secret Life of August Walker

I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Bodily Fluid (containing of Blood, amniotic sac fluid , & Mucus ) , Child Birth , Angst , Grieving .

Pairings: August Walker x Mya (Black!Female OC)

Description: Mya takes a trip down memory lane on the night their baby girl was born.

Word Count: 2.3K

Song: Just My Imagination by The Temptations

Part 2

The small family sat at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. August was holding on to Ava with dear life. His large arms hugging her gently as the tiny human slept peacefully in his grasp.

He just couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He would leaned down halfway before bringing her up some too and place kisses on her chubby brown face. Then ever so often, he’d nuzzle his face in her neck and inhale her baby scent. It was as if he was trying to make sure she was real.

Or trying to make up for all the lost time.

It was quiet, Mya sat in her seat just watching him with their little girl. She would find herself tearing up and wiping those tears when they’d slip out. She just couldn’t believe this! So she had to ask…

‘What happened?’ Her voice was small and a little shaky. Part of her knew, but she wanted to hear his voice once more to be honest.

August looked up at her, the moon illuminated through the kitchen. The natural light made her pretty brown flesh glow. Motherhood really did a number on her. She had a beauty to her this world had to appreciate… he had to appreciate.

‘I had a guy take over… when I found out Nathan found my location. I was about to repair the artificial mask system and make new masks. It wasn’t hard to sneak by.’ He then looked down at Ava.

Mya’s eyebrows tugged into one as she folded her arms across her chest, ‘What?! So you stole CIA equipment, repaired it and then convinced an innocent bystander to be “you” and you pretend to be them for a year?!’

‘They weren’t as innocent as you think. He worked for me. And I knew I’d die if I got that chopper. He fought a good fight.’ He then looked down at their daughter, ‘If it meant for me to live and be in the shadows for a year … I’d do it again a thousand times more.’

She stared at him before she rubbed her face and pushed her curly fly aways behind her ear. ‘Alright… what about the end of the world? You were involved with a cult August. You were planning on destroying the world with me in it?!’

August didn’t look up at her yet, he seemed remorseful.

‘What’s stopping me from getting up and calling Nathan right now and —‘

August snapped his head up at her, his dark blue eyes showing a reflection of darkness she’d never seen him give her.

Yet she refused to back down.

‘Well? What do you have to say to yourself? To me?! Our daughter?!’

He just stared at her before looking back down at their sleeping baby.

Rage pumped through her veins. She felt lost, confused and the worst of all… disconnected.

‘So you have nothing to say?’ Her voice was cracked and broken from the tears that was building the the lump that was forming in her chest.

‘I thought I was doing the right thing Mya. This world is so full of darkness, pain… hate. I wanted to rid it of those things. Am I the bad guy because I want a new and peaceful place to raise our children?’

She burst out in hysterical laughter, ‘You? Who do you think you are?! God?! No one is capable of wiping out the “bad” in this world because they’d be taking themselves out too! Do you even know the kind of pain you put me through?! Would you kill me because I grieved you?!’

He pressed his lips together and looked over at her. He hesitated at the question. ‘I’ve had this conversation with myself over the past year. It started that the day at the graveyard… I saw how my death effected you. It wasn’t fair to you… to the both of you.’

She reached across the table and ripped a piece of paper towel off of the roll and pat her cheeks and nose.

‘I’m sorry.. and from now on I want to spend every waking moment trying to make up for this disaster I’ve ensued.’

Ava stretched in her sleep, causing her father to look down at her in a hurry. ‘Uh oh.’ He chuckled as she then snuggled back into his chest. ‘She’s so beautiful, Mimi.’ He then carefully ran his hand over her little head. ‘Everything I’ve ever wanted…’ He was gushing over how much hair she had, and how soft it was.

Mya sniffed as her heart tightened at the nickname. He was the only person that was allowed to call her that.

‘What was it like?’

‘What?’ She asked.

‘The pregnancy… the birth— with me not being there? I want to know what happened.’

Mya sighed softly and sat back in the chair. Her arms were folded lazily over her belly. She didn’t even know where to start.

***

A loud thunder clap shook the house, causing her to be startled out of her sleep. ‘Ah!’ And with that sudden jerk, it scared the baby. The baby twisted and turned in her womb, kicking and punching. Mya hissed at the pain, ‘I’m sorry honey… shhh… it’s alright.’ She rubbed her rounded belly, doing her best to soothe herself and her startled baby.

Mya looked over at the time, it was 1:19am. Cradling her belly with both of her hands now, she let out a tired sigh, ‘looks like you’re gonna be up for the rest of the night Hmm?’ She smirked, ‘Your father was a night owl… you and him alike in so many ways already.’

The baby began to kick around again, this time landing a strong one on her bladder, ‘Oh! That’ll do it! Why don’t you take it easy on me?!’ She whined playfully as she pushed the sheets off of her lap and pulled her legs over the sides of the bed, one by one.

Letting out a small whimper and placing her hand on her lower back, she waddled her way towards the bathroom. But before she could make it to toilet she felt herself leaking down her maternity tights. ‘What? Not again.’

Being pregnant came with a lot of complications. One of them being not being able to hold your bladder they way you use to.

But this time… this wasn’t urine.

‘MA! I happened again!’ She called out. Mya then carefully pulled down her tights and underwear to see this strange looking piece of tissue.

‘What’s wrong honey?’ Ericka said as she looked at her hunched over daughter.

‘Ma… I think my water broke…’ Mya murmured, her voice trembling as she never broke her gaze with that mucus membrane.

‘What? Why would you think—‘ she walked around her daughter and she saw it for herself. ‘Oh my god…—‘

‘Ohhh!’ Mya whimpered as she placed her hand on her belly. It felt tight to the touch. And she felt crampy as if she was having Braxton hicks. But this was different. Sooo much different.

She held her breath as she reached out for her mother’s hand. She gave her a gentle squeeze and breathe through the pain. Within seconds, it was gone.

‘That was your first contraction… honey, I’ll get the bags ready.’ She said softly, panicking as she rushed out of the bathroom.

Mya took in a deep breath and did her best to stand up straight. ‘OK Mya. You’ve prepared for this day! You got this.’ She coached herself as she quickly waddled back into her bedroom.

Contractions were 7 minutes apart at this part and were pretty moderate. Ericka helped her breathe through them.

‘This isn’t so bad… I think I may go without the epidural.’ She giggled as she carried the car seat out to the car.

What a naive way of thinking.

The whole ride was uncomfortable. The contractions dropped from 7 to 4 minutes. And they gotten stronger. Each one of them had her whole body tensing up, holding her breath.

‘You have to breathe Mya! It’s not helping that you’re holding your breath, you’re going to pass out!’

‘Ughhhh! I’d rather die at this point!’

Ericka sighed and clenched her jaw together for a moment, ‘I wish I could tell you it gets easier… you think this is bad?!’

Mya sniffed as she felt so overwhelmed and in so much pain at the moment. She then began to sob. ‘Maaaaa!’

Her mother looked from the road back over to her quickly, ‘What? What is it?!’

Mya whined as she began to sob uncontrollably, ‘I’m hungry! And I can’t eat anything!’

Her mother sighed and reached over to grab her hand, ‘I’m sorry honey but to keep you and the baby safe—Ah!’ Her words were interrupted by a firm grip from Mya.

‘Ughhhhh!! Ooowww! Ow! Owwwwww!’

‘Breathe Mya!’

***

By the time they made it to the hospital, she was only 2 minutes apart and the baby was beginning to crown.

She laid on the bed, trying to focus on her breathing, ‘Can I get my epidural now?!’ She breathed out. Her mother pat her head with a cool rag.

The nurse looked down at her with a saddened expression, ‘I’m sorry doll… I’m afraid it’s too late. You’re dilated 8cm now. The baby could come at any moment now and it’s—‘

‘WHAT?! What do you mean it’s too late?!’ She was then hit with an even stronger contraction. ‘UGHHHH! FUCK! August! You son of a bitch! I hope you’re having a goddamn blast where you are or id kill you myself!’

‘MYA! You have to calm down!’ Ericka snapped at her. ‘That wasn’t a nice thing to say about him…’

She finally began to calm down from her moment but in that instant, she broke down in another sob. ‘I miss him ma… I wasn’t suppose to be doing this by myself!’

‘You’re not… I’m here baby… we’re going to get through this together… that’s a promise.’ She said softly as she pushed her daughter’s sweaty, curly hair out of her face.

She wiped her tears with her wrists and looked down at her belly. Another contraction came, this time she closed her eyes and breathe slowly.

‘Good Job sweetie… just breathe.’

***

‘When you feel another contraction sweetie, push OK?! Press your chin into your chest and push with all your might, understand?!’

A nurse held her left leg and her mother held the other. Mya gave the doctor an impatient nod before she was smacked with strong one. ‘Ughhhhhhhh!’ She groaned out as she pushed. The doctor counted as he helped loosen her so the baby could pass easier. ‘OK! Good! Take a breath— when you feel it coming—‘ then she began to push once more.

‘There you go! Here’s the head! You’re doing great sweetie!’

Mya sighed heavily, as she tried to take a moment to breathe but they just kept coming! ‘UUGHHHH! OWWWW!’ She yelped out. She felt like she was being torn apart slowly.

It was like none of those classes mattered! She wasn’t prepared for this kind of pain!

‘I know honey! You’re gonna feel a lot of pressure and a little bit of a burn alright? Just give me one big push!’

‘GRRRRRR!’ And she gave the last push with all her might.

Finally the room was filled with the pained tears of her sweet baby.

‘It’s a girl.’ The doctor said as he carefully cleaned out the baby’s throat and nasal pathways.

‘A girl? A girl!’ Mya repeated as tears filled her eyes. Her mother squealed happily before kissing her head gently.

Not only was she a surprise… but it was what August would’ve wanted. What he said he wanted.

The nurse cleaned off the baby and laid off and laid her on her chest. She had her tiny little fingers in her mouth, sucking away.

‘My girl,’ Mya began to sob, ‘My sweet baby girl! Ava.’ She laughed through her tears as she ran the pad of her thumb over her pink cheek.

‘Ohhh, she’s so beautiful Mimi…’ her mother cooed softly as she gently placed her hand over her tiny covered head.

***

‘She came out looking just like you… a head full of hair… her eyes didn’t come in until later but she stole those from you too.’ She giggled as she looked at him with their baby girl.

August smiled softly as he ran the back of his fingers against her soft cheek. ‘She’s beautiful… I couldn’t imagine-‘ he said as he looked back at her across the table, ‘the pain you went through. With me not being there — it was such an important milestone and I missed it. Im sorry for that… but I won’t miss anymore… I promise.’

Mya tapped her finger on her arm, swallowing her spit. Her eyes roamed his face; taking all of those features she adored so much. That mustache that Was trimmed to perfection, paired up with that 5 o clock shadow. His blue hues were hidden by the darkness but she knew they were glued onto her.

Damn, she missed her man.

‘So what are you going to do if Nathan finds out you’re alive.’

‘He won’t…’

‘How?’

‘Mya… I’ve been gone for a year and you’re already forgotten? I always have a back up plan for my back up plans.’

She smirked gently; trying to hide that giggle that was threatening to come out. She then shook her head as her head fell, ‘I haven’t forgotten how smart you were… it’s one of my favorite things about you.’

August carefully moved the baby so her head was resting on his chest. ‘She’s so tiny… is this normal?!’ He chuckled as he looked up at her, this time his dark blue orbs glistening in the moonlight.

‘Completely. She’s 3 months. She was born 5lbs & 13oz… 18inches long.’

August smiled softly as he began to pat her baby bottom gently. ‘She’s perfect.’

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill x black reader #daddy #henry cavill fanfic #dad!henry cavill #dad!august walker #daddy!august walker #daddy!august #august walker x black!female oc #august walker x black!oc

91 notes · View notes

birth-stories · 2 years

Text

2k drabble of my princess oc giving birth to her kings babies

PLEASE DO NOT RE BLOG MY POST

The swell of her stomach was hidden by the layers of cloth, but she could still feel her womb tighten every so often. She had been experiencing these pains for a few days now, at first they were just mild. Similar to what she felt before her pregnancy with each month that she bled. But now, they were different, much stronger. Painful even. Often taking her breath away at the worst of times.

She could hear the chattering amongst the maids and servants from where she sat at the dining table.

Hand cradling the bottom of her tight midsection, she suddenly stood up. Trying to keep herself steady so she wouldn't topple over from the weight of three large babies pressing on her hips and softened cervix.

"I'm going to lie down, please do not disturb me" she stated before turning to exit the room.

Her husband knew that was a complete lie, he could read right through her. She wasn't hiding her labor as well as she thought, he could sense all the changes. But of course, he wanted to respect her and decided against bringing it up in front of anyone.

Meanwhile Rose had made the quick journey to their shared bed chambers, glad nobody was following her or asking questions.

Quickly shutting the door behind herself, she let out a breath, working on fumbling with the layers of her dress.

Allowing the pieces of fabric to fall to the floor, she felt goosebumps rise to her bare skin which was flush.

After feeling another wave of painful contractions that tightened her low sitting mid section, her legs shaking from the strength of the pain.

Pulling in a sharp inhale of breath, she forced herself to move forward. Her legs felt like they could buckle any minute, the contraction still wrapped around her taut belly.

"Oooh-" she whimpered weakly, feeling a sudden wetness between her legs. The realization that her waters had broken, soaking her thighs and the lush carpet beneath her feet.

Eyes screwed shut, she finally reached the bed, practically collapsing upon the lush sheets, the best her husband had said at one time.

Breaths still heavy, she shifted to lay down on her side, legs spread across the bed as folds continued to leak from her tender nethers.

She could feel the first baby's head press against her throbbing nether region.

Hand reaching down to push a few fingers again, she bit back a whimper. She could just barely feel the head brush and push against her finger tips, still not quite open enough.

As her hand laid to her side, the door had suddenly opened and her eyes quickly opened, trying to cover her naked sweaty form.

"It's just me love~" her husband crooned, having closed the door behind himself, noticing her lack of clothing.

"Ah, labor must've started~" he spoke quietly, making his way across the room and over to where her withering body was.

Cool hands resting on the side of her swollen stomach, he hummed rubbing his thumbs against the contracting skin. He could hear each babies unique heart beat, it was a soothing sound to his ears. Of course nobody knew that he was a vampire beside Rose and a select few in the court.

He also knew these children would be on the bigger side, and was trying his best to comfort his laboring wife who seemed to be in agony as she withered and moaned on the bed. Sweat and other bodily fluids soaking the once clean sheets.

Getting in behind her, he settled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her contracting waist. Hands lifting up the rounded mid section to ease up the pressure on her pelvis.

A small gasp left her parted lips, a brief moment of bliss present on her face. But it had vanished in a mere few seconds at the building contraction. Wrapping around her waist and creeping up her back, she let out a choked cry.

Her body screaming at her to bare down, to bring the first of many children earth side into her arms, to suckle from her swollen milk filled breasts.

As the contraction peaked, she began to bare down. Giving into the primal instinct to birth her children.

The first few pushes hadn't made much progress, between each one she was desperate to catch air, chest heaving up and down as her body trembled and ached from how tired she felt.

But suddenly between the haze of exhaustion and pain, something gave way within her womb. She could feel the first born's head push against sensitive lips. Just barely inching forward, a teardrop shape present before it suddenly slipped back in.

"Come on love~" her husband coached, slim fingers brushing against her bloody thighs, not minding such a mess. It was a beautiful mess in his eyes.

Moaning yet again, she leaned forward and bared into her chest as hard as she could muster, letting out a strangled scream deep from her chest. The white hot burning of the baby's head did not stop until it popped out with a sudden force.

Blood and other bodily fluids soaked her thighs, the delicate skin in her cervix bruised from such a large head that dangled between her shaking thighs.

"I can't! I can't!" She sobbed weakly, nails digging into her lover's arm as he carefully pried her off, allowing her to rest against the pillows.

Hurriedly making his way across the room, he settled a mirror in front of her, the baby's head in clear view of her watery vision as he situated himself at the end of the bed. Preparing to catch the first born into his arms, large hands gently cradling the head, checking for a cord that thankfully wasn't wrapped around the neck.

"One more big push for me, my love!" He encouraged, unable to contain his excitement. For years he longed for a family, unable to find a wife that would be able to carry his heavy brood of children. That is until he met Rose, who even through the bodily fluids of birth, looked amazing in his eyes.

With the last bit of energy she could muster up, Rose bore down again, another pained scream ripping from her throat as the shoulders tore through her sensitive folds, the baby shooting out with a gush of fluids that soaked the bed entirely.

Slumping back, Rose attempted to catch her breath, tears welling up in her eyes as she heard the first gurgly cry of the newborn who was kicking and squirming in Adam's arms.

"It's a boy!" Adam announced loudly, placing him on top of his mothers bare chest.

Rose took a few moments to process the squirming and wailing infant who was rooting against her chest, in search of her swollen nipple.

"Oh-!" She gasped out, letting Adam clean off the newborn while he greedily nursed, tiny hand kneading against her chest as she studied him.

"Oh.. you're so beautiful-" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. She was thankful to have a few quiet minutes with the newborn since the contractions had eased up.

As the baby had finished nursing, Adam quickly brought over a large bassinet he had custom built, along with a damp washcloth.

Gently taking the baby from Rose's arms, he laid the baby down, securely swaddling him in a soft blanket so he could rest.

After doing that, he began to clean up Rose's thighs as she leaned back into the pillows with a shaky breath. Her hand still cradling her fully belly as she felt the contractions begin back up, this time with much more force.

"Ohh-" she moaned out weakly as Adam set the washcloth to the side, gently bending her legs.

"Nice slow pushes~" Adam soothed, rubbing a cool hand over her thighs as she began to bare down.

This baby was large as well, a bit bigger than the first. Though it was moving much faster than the first, the teardrop shape returned. Her folds turned white from the strain.

"Good good!" Adam encouraged, reaching to rub at her throbbing clit as she whimpered, slumping back into the pillows.

"I can't do it again!" She wailed, hands shaking as she balled them into tight fists, tears rolling down her reddened cheeks.

The head hadn't slipped back in, but it was stuck from what Adam could see, pulling the thin skin taut.

"Breathe for me" Adam stated, moving to sit in front of her as he moved a hand to rest against the bulging head.

Rose tried to focus solely on her breathing, withering and in quite a bit of pain. Though Adam's fingers inserting her thin folds that were leaking blood and birthing fluids was by far the most painful thing she had ever experienced.

Another deep scream ripped from her throat as Adam forced the head out and onto his palm.

"Good girl!" He praised, leaning into pepper tender kisses on her face as she whimpered and hiccuped, feeling the baby turn.

"Don't push for me, let me pull a little bit~" he soothed, helping the baby begin to turn before giving a tug as the shoulders popped free with a strong contraction.

Rose gasped, eyes wide as she waited for the second born to cry, and after a few moments of tense silence, she gave a shaky smile as the baby let out its first cry.

"A baby girl!" Adam announced, once again proud of his wife for birthing their first beautiful daughter.

Rose tried to take a moment to catch her breath, holding her as close as she could, letting the second baby begin nursing from her aching nipple.

Adam cleaned up the baby and cleaned up Rose yet again, moving across the room to grab a cup of water and some more fresh towels.

Allowing Rose to take a few small sips of water, he brushed her hair out of her face, a small smile on his face.

"I'm so proud of you~" Adam purred out yet again, nuzzling her sweaty cheek gently.

Rose gave a small nod, allowing Adam to take the second born to swaddle and set her beside the first born who was fast asleep.

Adam's hand moved down to her stomach, contracting belly, rubbing the stretched skin gently. He would miss seeing her so heavy with his children, but he was thrilled to soon have three children running about the castle.

"Are you ready for the last one?" He asked quietly, feeling her belly tighten beneath his palm. All she could manage was a weak nod, shifting a bit as she tried to get somewhat comfortable. She wouldn't say it aloud, but something felt off about this baby, but she wasn't sure what.

But within a few minutes of pushing, the problem had revealed itself. The baby was breech, and the body was quickly descending out of her battered folds.

"Okay-" Adam sucked in a breath, fighting down his nerves as he reached to cradle the small body.

"This one is breach my love, I'm going to need you to give me your hardest pushes for the head-" he coaxed, feeling around the neck to make sure the cord wasn't tangled, which it wasn't.

All Rose could manage was a small nod of her head and a few sluggish blinks, her head spinning from how tired she was. She wanted this to be all over, she was exhausted and sore.

Giving a hard push, she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood as the head suddenly shot free as she yelled out, clearly surprised.

"Good girl!" He cheered, getting the final baby to cry- another girl.

"We have another daughter!" He announced, still proud as he laid the large baby on top of Rose's chest.

Rose slumped back, whimpering softly as the contractions seemed to slow down, the after birth was easy to expel too.

After getting a much needed wash down and the babies all cleaned properly as well, the new family was seated in the fresh bed set.

Adam was still so proud of her, cradling her now somewhat flat belly as he nuzzled her neck, allowing her to rest.

He couldn't wait to knock her up with even more babies soon.

#birth #birth kink #birthing blog #fem birth #fem pregnancy #fic #writing

119 notes · View notes

ventiswampwater · 8 months

Text

find the word wip game

rules: search your wip(s) for the words given to you and share a sentence, then assign words for the people you tag

@visceravalentines MEG TYSM FOR THIS TAG this was so SO fckn fun. what an electric concept!! I shared more than a sentence for each bc I'm a fiend

my words were mouth, fall, dirt, teeth, and open!! cracking my knuckles like wooooooooo let's GOOOO

MOUTH;

from sacramentum (midnight mass // father paul hill x reader)

What happened to Mary in that cave? Alone, having stripped herself of all other pleasures—nothing but her thoughts and the one book she’d allowed herself. Wandering the seaside and building crucifixes out of sticks and roots, tied together by some stray fishing line. Had she looked down on his face, whittled crudely out of stone, and wished for steadier hands to carve his likeness? How many times had she woken with the sound of the sea in her ears? Perched by the mouth of the cave, watching the sky turn from gray to blue to gold to black?

Did she ever see ships on the horizon? What did she think of them? Had she ever thought of flagging one down? And what was the punishment she’d given herself for that?

When did you stop feeling hungry? You couldn’t survive on tears alone.

FALL;

from dancing in the moonlight (an american werewolf in london // david kessler & jack goodman x reader)

“We could’ve gotten frostbite.” Jack mutters.

“In the worst case scenario, yes, I suppose.” David replies, helping himself to a bagel.

“We almost got trench foot.”

“We did not!” David exclaims, laughing.

“That’s why I said almost, poindexter.” Jack counters. “One more night of wet socks and my toes would’ve fallen off. One by one—” He flicks his index finger three times, making a popping noise with his lips. “And it would’ve been all your fault. Good luck explaining that to my mother when we get back in the states. Oh, sorry Mrs. Goodman, I had Jack trekking through miles upon miles of soggy moorland and now he’s toeless. Those socks you knit him, forget about it. Maybe give it ‘til next Hanukkah and he’ll regrow his toes—oh, wait…”

“You’re ridiculous.” David shakes his head.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember that when I’m decomposing next to you. Toes gone. Rotting.” Picking up the tongs, Jack wavers above the platter of croissants. “Sure you’ll find me real funny then, you schmuck.”

DIRT;

from sometime after midnight (house of wax // bojangles sinclair x reader)

The dull blue glow from the keypad barely illuminates the ground, but you can make out the unmistakable sign of cherry red fluid leaking onto the dirt. A steady trickle of it drips from the underside of the car—and it's not stopping anytime soon.

Your transmission is fucked.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You exclaim.

TEETH;

from serotonin (house of wax // carly jones x reader)

She pictures her tank top, bloody and tattered, stuffed into a plastic bag labeled with EVIDENCE in bold letters. The prosecutor clicks to the next projection slide and there she is, another picture.

“Who are the women in the photographs? Are they still alive? It’s difficult." The detective on the screen grimaces. "We only have remnants of them. We’ve found teeth…clothes. The trophies they kept of these women will hopefully lead us to discovering their identities. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. But they deserve to have their names given back to them.”

“Carly?”

OPEN;

from a handful of bluebonnets (tcm // thomas hewitt x reader)

He’d been young. Young enough to still show his face, but old enough to know that it was the reason people were staring. He didn’t remember much from that day, just open-mouthed stares and the cow at the county fair with big watery eyes. Black, shining irises eclipsing the thin white sclera, framed with long lashes. She was a regal old thing, standing with her neck held high, ears twitching.

He thought he saw her again once, years later.

Her coat was duller, her head dropping. She’d traded her blue ribbons for slippery red blood, splattered along the wall and running down the grate. You use up all your usefulness on pride and this is where you’re bound to end up.

Maybe she’d been the first one. Spoiled with the heartbreak of a life that never came to be.

tagging @possumteeths, @f1nalboys, @pretty-possum, and aaaaaaa I'm blanking on who else might have wips fdjshjhfdsjhsdf

so!! whoever else wants to do this!!! pls consider urself tagged!!

your words are blood, eyes, sleep, skin, & break 👀👀👀

#this is such a cool idea!! luv it #:)#sam speaks #my writing

7 notes · View notes

yokasaris · 1 year

Text

Just me rambling (a lot), but I want to have it for posterity’s sake. Just in case. tldr: pet illness/death, overly dramatic ramblings, maybe goodbye finally, doesn’t mean much to nonfriends so feel free to not read on

I mostly just use this blog for myself these days, and even then only half hearted (I did Rae’s yearly little drawing for his nameday! but no one will see it because... what’s the point, i already have it for myself i guess). So, even then a lot of my reblogs have just been related to black cats. Rae only became a fluffy black-furred miqo because of my own cat, and my efforts in RL trying to help people overcome prejudices about these animals (because I live in an area that’s like 50 years behind the rest of the USA most of the time). I love this cat so much. The shelter called him Elvis, but I changed it immediately to Ellis (my own birthname is “related to music” and my social anxiety can’t stand it when people I barely know start serenading me unprompted in public). I’ve never had a pet I’ve bonded with entirely because I’m just... a cold feckin robot that can’t connect with anything. I mostly adopted him because I felt bad for him. He was consistently ganged up on by the other cats at the shelter and no one wanted him because he was one of a handful of fully grown black cats and had the “worst” personality of the bunch. As soon as I brought him home it became apparent that he was sick. He had hyperthyroidism, and it was... a lot considering I was working minimum wage. I don’t even go to the doctor myself anymore because of the expenses unless things progress to the point where I have to go. A few years later, he developed an insulin resistance as well. Both endocrine diseases and one of his medications all had side effects that make him sick off and on, and of course balancing everything means frequent vet visits. There have been many times where I wasn’t sure what to do in regards to his healthcare and I didn’t make the best calls every time, but we’ve pulled through with the help of his awesome vet. And he got so... comfortable. For the first few years he mostly kept to himself, but over time he started getting more confident and affectionate. I was lucky that he takes pills and the shots like a champ because he has to take them twice a day every day. He learned how to play! I can pick him up and give him little smooches between the ears and he’s okay with it! He’ll curl up with me to watch cooking shows or when I play vidya games! He started purring! With so much shit happening over the past half decade, this little dude has been my reason to keep going. He’s the reason I get out of bed a lot of the time (also literally because he wakes me up for his meds now). A while ago (maybe a year or two?) the vet said he believed he had either lymphoma or a non-life threatening bowel issue. It was impossible to tell which it was without an invasive biopsy, which was out of the question due to his other health issues. So, I’ve known for a while that it was possible he didn’t have much longer to live. A few months back he really started having issues stemming from this problem. And yet... I chanced to try giving him a different food about a month ago and! suddenly! he got better! I thought that meant he definitely didn’t have cancer and it was the irritation instead. Besides, he was gaining weight now! It’s always been hard for him to put on weight, but he was looking healthier than he has in a very long time. Yet a couple weeks ago I started keeping a closer eye on him due to a few reasons (I had to leave a few XIV events early because of this, and I apologize).

This past weekend he started deteriorating.

What I thought was healthy weight gain was fluid build up in his abdomen due to, yes, lymphoma. So, at least it’s finally a concrete diagnosis. All the vets present agreed there was nothing they could do, so they removed as much of the fluid as they could and gave him some meds to make him feel better. Thursday his vet will back in, so we’ll be taking him in to be put to sleep. Took a shower as soon as I was home because can’t be sad, no one’s allowed to be sad and at least no one would notice the feckin horrid crying. I don’t know when I’ve actually cried like really cried last. I’d been ready for the possibility he’d die for so long, but I’d discarded that mentality when I naively thought for a moment that I knew better than the vet. But, he’s getting all the cuddles when he doesn’t want to be left alone, and he’s going to get his favorite treat meals these last couple of days (tuna Tuesday and chicken+ rice Wednesday). I’ll bring him one of my blankets when we finally have to go, and I’ll hold him as the sedatives put him under before they actually put him to sleep. Because this lil furball is the only thing tangible that reminds me there’s something good here, and I want to try and make him as happy and comfy as I can. After... I’m not sure. There’s nothing else here for me. The farm’s gone. My last link to anything and anyone tying me here is about to be gone. I want to go, but I don’t know where and there’s no place that I can fathom thriving. There’s no prospects, no ambitions or dreams. It’s something I’ve had on the mind for a long time, ever since I was first told Ellis was possibly terminally ill. I’ve just been... coasting through life ever since knowing I’d have to find some kind of purpose eventually. I can’t make any decisions right now because I don’t think this is the proper state of mind to decide anything, though. But, I don’t know. Maybe this is finally how I can let this blog go. I don’t know if I can handle all these lovely droves of absolutely amazing black cats I am so lucky to see on my dash every time I log in. Sometimes they’re funny, sometimes they’re cute. But, they’re fantastic every time. It pains me that there’s going to be one less of these lil critters around, but at least I can know that Ellis was one of the lucky ones who managed to find a loving home. So, maybe for the final time... black cats are good cats.

#ooc stuff #maybe i'll come crawling back one day #if i'm too coward to move on #but we'll see #we'll see #be good to each other and take care #black cats are good cats

13 notes · View notes

the-eldritch-it-gay · 2 years

Text

i feel like no one is taking me seriously. I’m in the worst pain I can ever remember feeling and I’ve fucking. Broken my ankle and walked a mile home, I’ve broken arms and gone bike riding, I’ve had severe ear infections without noticing, I got a tattoo and didn’t even flinch or feel pain. I have the highest pain tolerance. And my pain is at a 9. I still have an ear infection and it’s awful. That infection started maybe a week and a half or more ago, and I only got seen for it this past Wednesday when I was in so much pain I went to the urgent care. There they barely examined me for 5 minutes, said it looks like an ear infection, and sent me home with a few antibiotics.

Today my neck is in excruciating pain so much that I can’t do anything. I’ve spend to much of the day just sitting because I can’t even use my computer. I haven’t had any appetite, I’m feeling nauseated and light headed and sick. My ear still hurts, and there’s still apparently a lot of fluid build up behind my ear drum.

I go to urgent care again, a different place, and I stay for 2 hours and they don’t know what’s wrong with me because my neck doesn’t seem to be stiff and while I might have had a fever, I took Tylenol before going so I didn’t have a fever there. They suggest that my head scarf might fucking be the cause.

At home we only have a infared forehead thermometer that’s wildly inconsistent so I can’t confirm if I have a fever because it will give me a fever reading once and then a second later I’m well working normal temperature. So even though I’ve gotten advice that if I do actually have a fever, I should go to the emergency room, I can’t even ducking confirm if I have a fever and my family thinks I just have some bug and no fever and I’m worried about nothing.

26 notes · View notes

the-fools-route · 1 year

Text

THE FOOLS ROUTE

THE ARCANA: fanfic 3,503 words

Chapter 1

_______________________________________________

At first, it was an indescribable nothingness. And then, it was everything. I'm drowning.

When did I get here?

How did I get here?

Why am I here?

I'm pushed around like I'm oil in a machine, but what am I fueling? The churning fluid weighs down my bones. Exhaustion. I try to open my eyes, and I am rewarded with nothing but stinging lingering pain.

" I'm like a fly. " I think to myself.

" A fly that fell in an inkwell. " I give up struggling, I'm going to wake up anyway.

" I'm never falling asleep on the bus again."

I sink with burning lungs. The fire breathes untamed in my body, licking through limbs and fingers.

Wake up

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

I observe my surroundings blindly. The bus is no longer in motion. I don't hear humming or the rattling of the windows. I'm laying down but I don't feel the stiff seats of my school bus. Instead, I'm very warm, and face down in something gritty.

Wake up

First, Sound returns to my ears. Shrieking seagulls greet me first, then lapping waves and distant creaking. Second, my sight. The light blinds me, the stinging is worse now. My eyes water and my mouth tastes of copper. My bones feel like lead, weighing me down.

Wake up

The white light dissipates into a dirty yellow. Sand.

" OK, one thing at a time. "

I lift myself to my knees to get a better look around. My backpack, slung around my shoulder, falls to the sand making a dull loose thud. I brush the sand off my arms and torso. I'm on a neglected beach, ruined wooden buildings lie in front of me on a raised cobblestone platform. Might as well explore, who knows when I'll wake up.

My dirty shoes squeak on the slick cobble, echoing off the empty buildings. The streets are dirty, filled with barrels, planks, distant conversations, and empty bottles. The street is divided, the middle has a water canal, likely for boats. Then the sidewalk is planks and cobblestone. As neat as it is, it's honestly depressing here. I hum to occupy myself, but it doesn't distract the fact that I'm being followed. At least, I think I'm being followed. I feel eyes on me, I don't feel alone. I don't feel safe. I quicken my steps, I feel my heart pounding, I need to wake up already.

" Come on dream, what's the worst you have for me? Giant spiders? "

Immediately, I am answered. A loud crash startles me, it was close. An alleyway I passed was the source of the sound. I backtrack and peek around the corner to see the greatest creature in all existence. A cat. It was puffed up and hissing, it looked like a plank fell and scared the poor thing. I sit on the ground, so as to not scare it further. He's a black and white short hair, majority white with a black back. The last 3rd of his tail is black, As is the right side of his face. He's a chonky boy.

" Are you who was following me? "

I stench out my hand and wiggled my fingers to hopefully catch his attention. Thankfully, I did. He cautiously tip-toed toward me to smell my hand. However, instead of smelling me, he skips my hand completely and flops in front of me. He wants attention.

" Aww, I'm keeping you. No arguments. "

I pick him up.

" You're a chunky boy aren't you, you weigh 1,000 pounds. "

He blinks owlishly at me, not really caring what I have to say. Now bored of me holding him, he climbs to sit on the top of my backpack, resting his front paws on my head. He purrs contentedly, definitely proud of his new perch.

Wood blurs into stone and marble, beautiful towers and spires compete with stained glass and bells. The roads are clean and filled with people swaddled in silk, fine fabrics, and jewels that catch the light perfectly. I feel out of place. My hair is up in a messy bun, my glasses are crooked, I'm wearing my dirty signature gray hoodie, busted up red shoes, and my tie dye backpack. The passerbys glance at me as I pass by, the mystery cat seems to enjoy the attention however. I was his throne and the people were his subjects. He kneads my head, catching some of my hair in his claws.

" You know what mystery cat, you need a name. A nice name. "

He chuffed in acknowledgement, at least I think he did.

" How about Candlewick? I like it. What about you? The end of your tail looks like a burned wick "

Candlewick shows no signs of protest.

" Perfect, Candlewick it is! "

I didn't even realize I had walked into some sort of market, I had been walking around subconsciously. Stores and carts filled to the brim with products owned by barking vendors. The street is narrow, it looks like everything is sold here. I see a stall filled with jams and preserves that catch the light, causing a light glow. And a tent with candles, some of them are long and thin. Some are short and some have flowers in the wax. The light scents perfumed the air with smells of sandalwood and of sweet vanilla. I don't want a candle, I want something to eat. Candlewick seems to have the same idea because he jumps off my bag and trots to a nearby fish stand.

The man working the stand is butterflying fish and putting them into a barrel of salt. Preservation. Small dried fish are loosely wrapped in wax paper, Candlewick is sitting on the counter looking at me, he's hungry too.

" How much for 2 of these dried fish ? "

" 5 coins each. "

Coins?

" I'm sorry, I don't have any change. I have 10 dollars though. "

I pull out my wallet and take out a 10$ bill. As I hand it to him, he makes a sour face.

" That's not money, come back when you have something real. "

A pit forms in my stomach. That's funny, this usually works.

" But, I'm dreaming. You shouldn't care about what currency I have. It- it's money. "

Now the man looks upset. The pit in my stomach grows, filling me with dread.

" Oh um, alright. I'll go. "

I feel confused, I don't understand. My dreams aren't like this. I lucid dream, so "realistic details" don't faze me. But this? This is a first. I completely forgot about Candlewick wanting food too, he seems to have grown tired of me waiting because he takes a fish from the paper and runs I to the crowd.

" Candlewick stop! That's stealing! "

I apologize profusely about the fish, the vender yells at me to get it back or he will report me for stealing.

I weave between pedestrians chasing Wick. I can't believe it, I'm a criminal now. Great.

People blur into colors in my peripheral vision. Candlewick skids around the corner to the right, I didn't even see the person walk out in front of me. We collide with a great force, sparking my headache from earlier. He drops a small bag of what seems to be roots of some sort, spilling them everywhere.

" I'm so sorry, let me help you. I should have been watching where I was running. "

I drop to the ground to help with the mess, he grabs my hand to stop me. The man has fluffy white hair, like a cloud. He's wearing a colorful traveler's cloak.

" Don't worry about it. It was an accident. "

A slick purple snake glides out from the inside of the stranger's sleeve, bobbing it's head. It startles me at first, but it must be a kind snake to be kept in a sleeve like it is. The snake tilts its head, assessing me. Must have taken a liking to me, because it stretches out from the man and gets real close to my face.

" Friend? "

My jaw drops in astonishment. Did this snake just speak to me? That's impossible. Snakes don't talk, right?

" The snake just spoke. To me. Right now. "

He smiles in amusement.

" She must like you alot to have spoke to you. "

" Snakes don't talk where I'm from. "

He starts picking up the mess, I hastily begin to help.

" Where are you from? "

" Excuse me? "

He gestures loosely to my clothes.

" I've been all around and I've never seen anyone dress quite like that. "

" I don't - "

I pause.

" I don't know anymore. I thought I was dreaming, but now I'm not sure. This all feels too real to be a dream. "

He looks at me puzzled, but he doesn't ask any more questions. I don't like the silence.

" What are the root things for? "

" Well, I am conducting an investigation on behalf of the Countess. And I need ingredients, hence the roots. "

Countess?

" Can I meet her? I have some questions, I don't know where I am. "

They smile, and I swear the snake did too

"You're in Vesuvia, first time here? "

" I guess it is. " I try to avoid eye contact.

" I'm not sure if I can help you meet the Countess. but if you want, I can answer your questions. "

I give them the rest of the roots and smile.

" That would help a lot. "

He smiles back.

" My name is Asra. "

" My name is - "

*Crash*

I turn around to see 2 large men in armor standing over a large broken crate, a woman is scolding them.

" How dare you break that, do you have any idea how much money was that worth? "

The poor guards look a little uncomfortable now. They raise their hands in defense.

" We are just trying to find a fugitive, the broken crate was purely an accident. "

The vendor doesn't look any happier.

" You break it, you buy it. "

Are they here for me? I'd really rather not find out.

I stand up quickly, almost falling over. I apologize to Asra and then I book it. I turn into the alleyway that Candlewick darted into, but I don't see him. I keep running. I lose track of how many buildings I dart between, my lungs are on fire. I stop and lean against a brick wall to take a breath. Panting, I look up to see Candlewick licking his lips.

" You do realize I'm an accomplice to a thief now right? I'm going to have guards after me, I'm a fugitive! And you don't care, because you are a cat. "

Candlewick indeed, does not seem to care.

" Jerk. "

We walk to less populated streets till only a few drunks remain. The buildings are old but still well loved from the looks of it. Some windows have flower beds. Some windows glow, hinting to the life inside. But the thing I notice the most is the smell of food, my stomach growls and feels tight. I'm still hungry. Candlewick rushes from my side to a smaller building to the left of me. The stained glass windows glow orange and faint laughter rings from the inside. The hanging sign reads, The Rowdy Raven.

Wick sits in front of the door, looking at me.

" Don't stare into my soul like that. Ok we can go inside. "

I am engulfed in warmth as I walk in. It smells of alcohol, fruit, and stew. All walks of life are here, I see people in silks and rags, and a few with scars and eyepatches. I see tall people, short people, skinny people, and some built like brick walls. They all seem so familiar with each other. They're playing poker, card games, drinking, dancing, and sharing stories. Like a large strange family, kinda like mine. Candlewick makes himself at home in front of a fireplace, rolling on the rug. I occupy a booth to the left side of the bar. Wooden round tables are placed haphazardly to the right most side of the building, the bar is in the back. Strings of bells line support beams in the ceiling. I won't lie, it's pretty homey here.

I take this time to reflect on what has happened. I woke up on a beach, found a cat, became a fugitive, and found somewhere to stay warm. But most of all, I'm not dreaming. I think this is real. I'm not home, and I dont think I'm in the past.

*Pick*

I pick at my fingers and nails, a nervous habit of mine. The pain is dulled from years tearing and picking. I never know when to stop, but my fingers are usually left raw and bloody.

As I think about my situation, I must have been spacing out because I didn't realize a man was trying to get my attention.

" Er, hello? Excuse me. I don't mean to be a bother, but your hands are bleeding. "

He has to bend over to talk to me, he's very tall and lanky. A " bean pole " if you will. He has curly auburn hair hiding an eyepatch on his left eye. He looks very sleep deprived, yet he has a distinguished look about him.

" Your um, hands? "

He points at the blood beading from my fingers, I didn't even feel it till he said something. The pain stings, but only a bit. I'm used to it now.

He slides into the seat across from me, his long legs struggling to get comfortable.

" I'm a doctor. " He begins. " Well, ex doctor. But still just as good. May I look at your hands? "

" Ex doctor huh? " I give him my hands for inspection. " Were you fired? "

He flips my hands over a few times and has me flex my fingers.

" I'd um, rather not say. How long have you been picking at your fingers? Your cuticles are in terrible condition. "

I look around the room, the crowd has calmed down a bit. I hear someone a few tables away playing a violin, just out of my view.

" Since I was at least 3 or 4, a terrible habit really.

" And how old are you now? "

The violin fills the room with a calming atmosphere. People are slow dancing, but most people are drinking now.

" 17. "

" Huh. "

" What? " I look back at him now.

" Well, you look a few years younger. I mean no offense of course. "

" None taken. I'm a pretty small person. "

Candlewick trots over and jumps on the table, demanding attention.

" Is this handsome little fellow a friend of yours? "

Wick lays on my arms, trapping them on the cold table.

" Yep, this is Candlewick. Because of him, I am now a criminal. He stole something and I don't have money to pay it back because money is weird here. "

" What were you trying to use? The money, I mean. "

I sigh.

" A 10 dollar bill. My money doesn't exist here, I dont think I'm supposed to exist here either. "

He raises a thick brown at me.

" Not supposed to exist? "

Maybe I shouldn't have brought that up.

" I dunno, it's weird. One second I'm on a bus going to school, then I'm on some beach in some city named Vesuvia. Money's weird, snakes talk, almost everyone looks incredibly rich and - "

He interrupts me hastily.

" Talking snakes? "

He looks almost concerned.

" I just told you that I'm from a different world and you are more worried about a snake? But yes, a snake spoke to me. Is that not normal? "

" Well - "

He pauses.

" Not typically. Was the snake with anyone ? "

I recall the poofy white hair.

" She was with someone named Asra, I met him in the market. "

" Asra? "

He recalls the name with such familiarity.

" Do you know them? "

He looks somber.

" I used to. It's been so long now. "

Old friends I guess.

Dropping his frown he grabs my attention.

" You know - "

He scoots a little closer.

" I never told you my name. "

He straightens himself and readjusts his blouse.

" Dr. Julian Devorak at your disposal. "

Julian stretches his hand out toward me. I weasel my hand from under Candlewick and take hold.

" Call me Leigh. Just Leigh. "

We firmly shake hands.

" Well "Just Leigh" from another existence, do you have somewhere to stay tonight. "

" Nope, I didn't really plan this far ahead. I originally thought I would have woken up by now. "

Julian begins to speak but is cut off by a frazzled drunk.

" Th-the guards are coming! "

The bar immediately flew into chaos, over half of the people there were freaking out and trying to hide.

" Oop, that's our call, we have to go. "

I fasten my backpack and grab Candlewick, he squeaks in protest. Julian grabs hold of my shoulder and pushes me in front of him, leading me to a back door.

" Why are we running away? "

He glances back to the front of the bar.

" Not all of us are not exactly favored by the law. "

I didn't realize how dark it had gotten while I was Inside. The sun no longer hung in the sky, I'm pushed into a cold alley littered with boxes and led elsewhere. Julian leads me around in a very specific manner, a pre-planned path. Is he on the run? We walk for a while before anything is said.

" So, what is a bus? "

" Well. "I begin.

" It's kinda like a long yellow carriage that usually transports students to school for free. But your parents need to sign you up first. "

" A yellow carriage? I don't know, isn't that - "

He pauses.

" Tacky? "

We walk into a garden, meticulously tended to.

A small house lies in the middle. Julian strides straight to the door as if he owns the place. He opens the door and greets in a sing-song voice.

" Hello? "

He holds out the " O " for a few seconds. No answer. It's a small quaint house, short ceiling. Colored bottles line shelves, plants are hung to dry, it's really nice here. Julian seems right at home, he starts rummaging through cabinets and checking bottles.

" Is this your house? "

He opens a bottle and sniffs it.

" It is not, but I know who lives here. "

I still don't understand why he trusts me, I could have lied about everything.

" Why did you believe me? "

He stops, then puts down the bottle without closing it.

" Because I have a good feeling about you. And you certainly don't act like you are from here, too many things lean toward the fact that you aren't lying. "

I guess that makes some sense. I drop Wick and set my bag on the table. I sit on an overstuffed couch as Julian grabs a small glass cup. A small woman busts through the door, pointing a wooden spoon at Julian.

" Ilya, you better not be in my good whisky! "

" Malzinka darling, me in your whisky? Perish the thought. "

She smiles.

" Then why is it open on the counter, hmm? "

She hasn't seen me yet, will she be upset that I am here? I didn't exactly ask to visit.

Julian shamefully puts the cork back in the bottle.

" Ilya? Is Julian not your real name? "

All eyes on me now, I shouldn't have said anything.

" Hello. " I wave awkwardly.

" I'm Leigh, sorry for the intrusion. "

Mazelinkas eyes soften, but only for a second. She marches over to Julian and pinches his ear, pulling him to her eye level.

" You bring a guest into my house and don't tell me? Have you even fed her yet? No, you were too occupied with the alcohol. "

Julian is a sputtering mess, I chuckle. They are definitely family. She turns him loose and points to a small room, closed in by a curtain. He slinks away defeated, rubbing his ear.

She pulls something from the ceiling, something that was drying. Mazelinka gently grabs my hand and leads me to the middle of the room. She kicks a rug to the side revealing a trap door.

" It's very late, you can sleep there for the night if you need. "

She slips dried meat into my hand and opens the door, leading me to the bottom.

It's a small room filled to the brim with quilts and pillows, like a secret little nest. Candlewick follows me down.

" I'll leave the door open a smidgen for some light. If you need something, ask. "

I relax my body into the pillows and cocoon myself in a few blankets. I'm particularly excited about the jerky though, I still haven't eaten. It's tough, but savory. Peppered.

I can't believe I'm here, Vesuvia. In a cellar. Strange place. I start thinking of home, and if I'll see it again. I start to pick my fingers again, but I stop. I hold my hands to the sliver of light, casting a shadow on my face. There is no pain, no stinging. My fingers are healed. Did Julian do this? Candlewick crawls on my chest and layes down quite lazily. I hold him, grounding myself.

" Goodnight Candlewick. "

#isaki #the arcana #asrathearcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #julian the arcana #Fanfic #the arcana fanfic

8 notes · View notes

ask-spidersisters · 1 year

Text

The Original (Lab Break-in Pt 1)

Scarlet Spider surveyed the building her spider tracer indicated it was in. It was a good ways away from the city in a large fenced off area. Her spider sense pulsed as her stomach churned, not too dissimilar to how she would feel before having to present in front of the class except with an extra dash of existential fear. She fought with her breath to steady it, double checking her utility belt that it was fully stocked with darts, extra web fluid and smoke bombs. She loaded one of her web shooters with a dart, then pushed a few buttons on the other one.

Location Broadcasted.

Good. That was online. She just hoped someone useful would receive it. Until then she was on her own. It had already been a concerning amount of time since Octavius' attack, and Scarlet didn’t want to leave the teens within his captivity any longer. With a final deep breath Scarlet Spider lurched forward, heart racing, jaw set and mind focused.

Getting in was easy enough, she found a vent that she just barely fit in, having to hold her breath and suck in her gut slightly. She landed in an utility closet stocked with rather ordinary cleaning supplies. She pressed the side of her head against the door one hand clutching the doorknob as she listened. It was eerily quiet, with only the soft buzzing sound of the electrical currents in the walls and the steady pulse of the air conditioner filling in. She took a spider tracer off her belt and slipped it under the door, putting her free hand up to her mask as her lenses connected with the camera on the new tracer. Directly outside was a long hallway. She moved the spider’s camera head upwards, finding what she was looking for. Security cameras positioned high up on each end of the hallway. She directed the tracer forward and up the wall, jumping the last length to stand on the top of the camera away from its lense. It then activated its electric pulse through its legs, short circuiting and cutting off the camera’s feed. She repeated that a couple times till all the cameras in the area were out before pulling at the door a bit roughly to get it to unlock and walking out. The spider tracer, now on autopilot turned to look down at her from the ceiling before scurrying off, its directive set. Find the other tracer, disrupt all security cameras along the way. Scarlet Spider followed it at a distance, tip toeing around with her ears perked and eyes scanning left and right constantly.

Why the fuck is it so quiet.

Her nerves started to spike as her mind started racing with hundreds of possible worst case scenarios.

Focus!

The spider tracer stopped, turning its head around to look down at its creator before pointing with one of its legs towards a large metal doorway. Her suit’s lenses lit up with a message from the tracer.

Target located. Inside. Six feet. Camera Damaged.

She walked up to the keypad musing over it for a while as the tracer tried to slip its way inside, unable to make it through the sealed seams of the armored door. Scarlet found herself letting out a small smile at the drone’s antics. It was almost as if it was alive. She opened up her palm and let it climb onto her, finding a resting point somewhere on her shoulder as she turned back towards the keypad. She took in a deep breath, muscles tensed as she let out a small electric shock through her fingertips, frying the keypad and unlocking the doors with a soft click.

The room was dark with only the light of various computers and screens lined across the walls. The spider tracer on her shoulder leaped off and onto a desk scurrying across it. It was hard to follow its black form in the dark, Scarlet Spider had to squint and get closer. It stopped suddenly by a glass square, tapping on the glass of it. Scarlet leaned her head in closer, narrowing her lenses as they adjusted to the dark.

Oh no.

Her spider sense spiked, she launched herself to the side, as the unmistakable four pronged arm of Doctor Octavious lurched forward, knocking over the desk. The box with the captured spider tracer flew in the air and landed loudly halfway across the room. Scarlet twisted her body, and as soon as her feet landed on the ground she shot a dart at the direction the attack came from. As if on cue the lights to the room turned on as Doctor Octavius himself emerged from another doorway at the far end of the room, one robotic tentacle grasping the dart and gently bringing it down to the doctor’s waiting hand. He tilted his head, twirling around the dart as he examined the liquid inside.

“Fascinating. You found a way to better utilize your venom in long ranged combat. It’s nice to finally have a sample.”

He gently placed the dart on a shelf nearby, folding his arms behind him as he casually stalked forward, his four metallic arms glowing yellow as they snapped like impatient attack dogs, following the vigilante’s movement as she shuffled sideways to remain as far away from the advancing scientist as possible.

“I really thought I had recreated your mutation with the spider serum, but alas something went amiss. The boy doesn’t possess your venom, or your electrical abilities. It’s nice to finally have the original. To see where I went wrong.”

Her heart rate spiked as her body seemingly moved on its own, jumping upwards and shooting webs at the advancing threat. Two of the arms moved to shield his body while the others snapped forward towards the masked vigilante. She managed to dodge the first one by vaulting over it, using the momentum to try and make it towards the door she came in from. She was cut off by the other arm wrapping around her leg. She yelped as it pulled her backwards and threw her violently against a wall. She hissed as she forced herself onto her knees and into a crouch, fingertips sparking.

“Octavius.”

She sputtered out rather pathetically, her voice cracking as it cut off, unable to remember what she was going to say. The scientist grinned.

“There’s only so much one can learn from video feeds. A hands-on field test however can yield more accurate results.”

#metal mirrors arc #tw violence #tw kidnap mention #67889 Doc Ock #writing #tw swearing

8 notes · View notes

funnel-webbed-au · 8 months

Text

A Quiet Calamity

Tag List: @skellebonez,

Riley's Notes: Knock knock bitch, it's angst o'clock. Nezha has to go talk to Ao Guang because he feels obligated to. He is NOT received the way he expected because this AU is supposed to have themes of trauma and recovery. Also, CW for referenced suicide as per Nezha's myth. Also note I am working on something else at the moment and this blog isn't high on my priorities right now.

He'd always known this would be the hardest part.

As Nezha made his way through the underwater, yet watertight city, he could feel a sinking sense of dread, a sense of fear that made his skin crawl... and that made the venom in his veins burn far worse than the restraints that had been used to subdue him. The Deity flinched as he caught glances of the distant descendants of the still-living children of Ao Guang, innumerable Dragons who each paused to look at him.

He could feel them staring, feel their judgement, feel their hatred for taking one of their ancestors from them. Nezha sighed, crossing his arms as he allowed the Fire-Tipped Spear to be taken by the Huan-Tian Ling Sash. The armillary sash clasped the spear firmly, wrapping itself around the blade in a blatant reminder of the blood that still couldn't be washed off, despite its invisibility.

Each step began to feel heavier, like someone was dragging him down, trying to stop him from going further. Still, he persisted, even though he could feel the fear of his younger self as he struggled to slow him down, even enough to stop.

No.

The only thing he had to fear was fear itself.

Nezha walked up the steps to the grand East Sea palace, even though each piece of cut material felt sticky, like his feet would be glued to them. Still, he marched on, until he was close enough to knock on the front gates of such an enormous building.

The deity hesitated, but soon enough, two knocks on the palace doors reach his ears, and now all he could do was wait.

The East Sea Dragon King opened the doors. His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed, brow furrowing. This man had some nerve to be here, at his palace, after all of the blood on his hands and on his spear. One of the Dragon's sons had met his fate to this man long ago, but the Dragon's wrath faltered as he saw the tired bags under the Deity's eyes, and the way he carried himself. He behaved as if he was under duress, and as if he had been forced here.

He had no will of his own.

"What did they do to you...?" Ao Guang's voice brought Nezha pause. The Deity's eyes widened as the electricity in his veins died down, and with it, his tremors. Well. If there was any kindness, any love, to be found in this terrifying place, he wasn't letting that lie.

Nezha sighed. "Only the ones that love me would believe the answers I have for that question, and I can count them on one hand. Hong Hai'Er, Bai Xian, His Highness Erlang Shen, and Lady Lian Lanhua. Although Sun Wukong and Chang'E might be applicable, which would make six."

The East Sea Dragon King released a heavy breath.

"I will not press you for an answer you are unwilling to give... but you underestimate how many cartoonishly evil acts I have heard of, witnessed, and done..."

Nezha couldn't help but restrain a chuckle. Cartoonish evil? He'd been privy to that, privy to the worst of it. He'd been a victim of it. Sure, Ao Guang had his reasons, but nothing justified it. Nothing ever would.

"Like forcing a child to-" The Deity stopped and pulled away, the icy claws of dread sinking into his heart.

"...I... I should take my leave-"

Ao Guang grabbed his wrist.

When the shorter immortal turned to him, he realized that Ao Guang's brow had furrowed, expression and thoughts muddled.

"...No. This needs to be addressed.

I didn't have the right."

With those words, it felt like the world was closing in on him. Nezha could feel the stares, feel the judgement from across the city. His lungs felt like they were filling with fluid, filling with his own blood... just like that day. His vision swam as the steps shifted beneath his feet, all while the Dragon King remained steady on them.

Ao Guang caught the ancient Deity when his legs gave way beneath him. Some part of him just wished it would all stop, wished it would wait for him. But nothing and no one would wait for him...

He needed to rest.

~ ~ ~

Ao Guang carried the tiny Deity through the halls, arms firmly yet gently clasped around him. Where a 6'2 Deity had once stood and walked alongside him, a frightened, 4'6 child was now in his arms, trying so hard to trust one of the people who'd hurt him the most.

As the East Sea Dragon King sat down in his chambers, he let Nezha rest on his lap, running his claws through the little boy's hair. It was hard for him to miss the tremors from him that resulted from every touch, no matter how light, and it made Ao Guang's heart feel like it was made of lead.

"...do you promise...? Promise not to be a scary dragon...?"

Ao Guang retracted his claws, carefully adjusting to scratch behind Nezha's ears. Six hundred years ago, he wouldn't have known how important such a small gesture would be, but he'd come to appreciate a man he hadn't even liked before as a dear friend. It was only natural at this point.

Nezha released soft purrs, breaching the relative quiet of the room. For once, the scales felt familiar, soothing, and he couldn't help it. The tension in his body melted away entirely, as if he hadn't felt like he was choking on the steps mere hours before. As his heart slowed and his eyelids grew heavy, he finally felt the magics in his veins balance themselves. Finally, the volatility was quelled for a time, and Gods, had he missed this.

Ao Guang didn't move him, even after the little Deity fell asleep there.

Footnotes: FW!Nezha sometimes regresses as a trauma response and defense mechanism. It's the only way he can fully block out his traumatic memories for lengths of time. This is how I chose to integrate both his child and adult forms into this AU, as both depictions are important.

#[once bitten and twice shy - sydney - nezha]#[The Restless Tides of the Eastern Seaboard - Ao Guang]#cw physical abuse mention #[arc two - toxic tides - post-canon]#cw suicide mention #tw suicide mention #lmk ao guang #lmk nezha

3 notes · View notes

dragonmuse · 1 year

Note

Oluwande and Jim for the explicit ask? You’re the best 😘

(fuck me running, the devil is fast, but you folks are faster. this came in within seconds, I salute you.)

Jim was on top, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Oluwande was damp too in a way that made him feel as if he'd never be dry again.

Their bedroom was impossibly hot, muggy with the mid-spring day that had come on with surprising force. No A/C units had yet struggled into place, their day still weeks away. The window was open to let in the weak breeze that did little, but provide an empty hope.

Oluwande had laid out in the bed after lunch in a vague hope of a mid-day nap to sleep through the worst of it. The Revenge was on schedule for later and the central air there was always beautifully cold to preserve makeup from melting away.

It had taken ages to drop off , only to be awoken some time later by Jim skimming up and over him, looming until he woke by sheer proximity, their presence making him a a noticeable degree hotter even though they were barely touching.

"Hi," he'd said as his eyelids unglued. Jim had given him a Cheshire grin, their best wordless flirtation. "Yeah okay, but you do the work."

That had not met with any argument. Now here they were naked as Adam. For a long, breathless (mostly metaphorically, but for a few literal seconds) time, Jim had straddled his face as he ate them out with leisurely pleasure, hands kneading at their ass as he licking and sucked until they bucked wildly against him, grasping at the pillow behind his head.

"Yessss," they hissed and then shimmied downwards, sheathing him into themselves in one long continues movement until he was clawing at the sheets himself.

"Fuck, you're so good like this," he groaned.

Their hands landed on his chest, kneading a little as they rocked.

It left Oluwande gazing up at them. He could just lay back and admire their lines. Jim's body had changed so much since the first time he'd seen them naked. They had sculpted themselves with care, the knife and their own iron will. The way they rose up from him now was likely not their final form, but it was a glorious one.

Their hair was wild with the day's heat, a raked up cock's comb with the shaved sides glistening. Head thrown back, the line of the neck led to the strong shoulders that could hold up the world. Their chest was subtly broader, the intricate vines that they had tattooed on their scars, shifted with their rapid breath. Their stomach undulated along with their hips, fluid and agile. Their legs clamped around him, the muscle corded beneath his palms.

"You're perfect," he told them as they took their pleasure.

"So are you," they panted.

In the sweet merciless heat, still tinged with the threads of sleep from his nap, Oluwande imagined that it went on for hours. This moment leading to the next then looping around again so that they were fucking in an ouroborus of pleasure.

Too bad that reality would not hold to fantasy. He could feel his own orgasm building, the failure of the flesh frustrating, but predictable. He unstuck his hand from one of their thighs to slide between wet pink folds. His thumb found it's goal and Jim arched hard against him.

They worked together until they threw their head back, body arching and squeezing down so hard around him that no force on earth could keep him from rushing to the inevitable.

Jim slumped, strings cut, then shifted with a wince as he slid out from them.

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured, reaching for them.

"You're fine," they dismissed as they lay down on top of him.

It was far too hot for that, the press of skin to skin instantly sticky and uncomfortable. He wrapped his arms around them anyway, drawing them closer.

"I love you," he whispered into their ear like it was a secret instead of the iron truth that rammed through their lives.

"Love you too," they whispered back.

Outside, thunder rumbled, the promise of a cooling storm still miles away. That was fine. Oluwande was cool enough as their sweat intermingled, Jim's breath humid in his ears.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #paint me orange and teal #oluwande boodhari #jim jimenez

19 notes · View notes

thatgeekyemo · 2 years

Text

What He Won’t Know Won’t Hurt - Part 6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

peter parker x reader | 4.4k

note: homestretch

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right

Refill [Right]: Recommended

Karen's voice buzzed in your ears, reading the words that flashed red in the corner of the screen aloud to you.

You dismissed her.

•••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: Imperative

Refill [Left]: Recommended

You ignored it, pushing on. New York City was huge, and you were only one person.

Assuming he was still in New York.

•••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: Danger

Refill [Left]: Imperative

You sent Cindy to voice-mail for the fifth time in a row. You couldn't get distracted. You thought you caught a trail.

Muting Karen was also the only way to get her to stop speaking.

•••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: EMPTY

Refill [Left]: Danger

The empty click of your webshooter seemed to echo in your ears. You knew this was coming, having not heeded any of the warnings.

You felt the black hole of defeat begin to form in your gut as you reluctantly gave up, using the rest of your web-fluid to zip across rooftops when you needed to. Back in the direction of the backpack that had your civvies.

You were moving fast, but it stung as you retraced your steps back. You were going to have to start at square zero again. Completely helpless; hanging on to the whim of a mad man.

•••••

Low Web-Fluid Cartridge: Right, Left

Refill [Right]: EMPTY

Refill [Left]: EMPTY

You stumbled on the broken pavement of the alley, making it back just barely with the rest of your resources.

The sun was rising proudly in the sky, casting and orange glow over the city in cloudless wonder. It would have been beautiful; you would have stopped to look if it were any other day, maybe even perched on the Empire State Building for the best view.

But you were too shrouded in the darkness of your reality to care. To even see it.

You had gone through all of the web-fluid refills that were clipped on your belt over the course of the night. You hadn't eaten. You hadn't slept. Only searched. Swinging through the boroughs of New York City in a wild craze, Peter's parameters set into your scanners, trying to get even the smallest hit of him - his voice, his heartbeat, his hair, his clothes. Anything.

But you came up with nothing in the end.

There was one time you thought you had found the car he was taken in, but you had just wound up scaring a couple of innocent frat boys preparing for spring break. No doubt earning yourself a brand new story for J. Jonah Jameson to rant about on his radio show.

It wasn't until you consciously realized that you were in the place where you had last saw Peter, the place where you had let him get taken away, that you remembered he had your bag. Wherever he was. Being held captive.

You nearly swallowed your tongue, suppressing yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs and falling to your knees. Your eyes burned like you were crying but no tears tracked down your face. Your throat was dry and scratched every time you gulped.

On the left side of the screen in your mask, Cindy's picture filled the corner as she attempted to call you again.

Feeling the black hole grow bigger, you didn't seen any option other than to fall into it.

•••••

She had already left her window open and was sitting on her bed, waiting patiently for you. Cindy was always a better actress; not as free with her emotions as you were, but you've seen her at her worst. And this was pretty damn close.

You barely had both feet on the floor of her bedroom before she stood up and barreled into you, hugging you so tightly it almost felt suffocating.

You tried to find the comfort in the action, but you could feel yourself failing. You didn't deserve it.

The cool air of being inside hit your face like you were dunked in a bucket of ice water as Cindy peeled off your mask, bringing it to your attention just how much you had been exerting yourself. She was talking quietly, but you couldn't hear her over the pounding in your head. Migraine throbbing and mixing in with your unfliltered senses in the worst possible way. You weren't focused enough, so everything was both too loud, too bright, but also not loud and bright enough at the same time.

You were sore everywhere. Everything hurt. The room was spinning. It was getting hard to breath.

"Help,"

The word was a slurred whisper, and you had only seen double of your best friend, concern troubling her expression before you blacked out.

•••••

You woke up with a jolt, bolting upwards and raking in breaths however you could get them.

You hadn't dreamt. There was just nothingness. A fade to black. But it was just as bad as a nightmare. You had been left alone with your fears. Your worries. Inside your head, where they could torment you the most.

Cindy was by your side in a moment, and you could hear her beating heart. You had scared her when you woke up, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she kneeled on her bed where you were resting and grasped your shoulders.

"Y/N, you're okay," she said softly, "You're here with me. But you need to calm down."

Your brain couldn't seem to comprehend those words - calm down.

You grabbed her arm back, chest still heaving, careful not to hurt her with your strength.

"Peter-" you choked out his name, the only priority on your mind. "I need- Peter- What time is it?"

Cindy tried to stop you from getting up, but you did anywhere. You ignored the protests from both your best friend and from your body, pleading you to sit back down.

"Almost six in the morning," she finally relented, knowing it was no use trying to get you to listen to her.

You stumbled to the window, wiping away any trace of sleep from your eyes and staring outside. Sure enough, the sun was proudly making its way into the sky.

You were wasting time.

"Where's my suit?" You asked as you stared down at Cindy's clothes on your body. "I gotta-I need to refill my webshooters, dammit!-I need it. I gotta go."

"You aren't going anywhere until you tell me what happened last night!" Cindy demanded although she stood up and grabbed a pile of fabric from her desk you assumed was your suit, holding it securely in her hands.

You didn't want to tell her. You didn't have the time. You needed to get back out there. You needed to find Peter before he got hurt-more hurt.

But as you stood across from Cindy, racing heart and twitchy nerves, you realized that she deserved an explanation as well. She looked pale from anxiety, with darkening circles under her eyes. But she still held her place firm. You had caused this-caused her worry-and how much guilt were you willing to keep piling up on yourself if you continued to hurt the people you loved?

"Did you sleep?" You gulped, hating yourself for being the core reason so many problems were unwinding out of control.

Cindy looked away, answering with a quiet "No." She glanced at her bedroom door before stepping forward. "You never came back to us, and then Peter ran after you, and-and there were more gunshots-God, what were you thinking? We all tried calling you-both of you-but only got sent to voice-mail. We were so scared."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "I shouldn't have-It was a trap-"

You gasped, your chest tightening and the feeling of being unable to breathe coming back.

"Y/N," Cindy appeared in front of you, her voice soft yet forcing you to look at her. "What happened?"

You pulled at your hair, trying to find the words to say. Trying to ignore the voice in your head that told you that you were just wasting time. You were running out of time.

Instead, you took a deep breath. It was choppy and you had to try a few times before it became even, but you finally calmed yourself down enough to think straight for a second.

"It was a trap," you repeated, "It was all planned.. They wanted me. Wanted to-to hurt me. Spider-Woman was probably interfering with their business, I-I don't know. But they-they took Peter. They took..."

You had to stop yourself. You couldn't afford to break down again.

"Peter got kidnapped?" Cindy gasped, her voice full of horror. "Oh my...holy shit."

She reached out to console you, but you pulled away from her hand. You didn't deserve it. Not right now.

Pulling at your face, you fought the urge to scream again. You needed to keep your head clear. You needed to think. To be smart while you tackled the problem.

Cindy blinked, and then suddenly she seemed to be on the same wavelength as you, her face snapping set into determination.

"Forget about Peter." She said suddenly.

"What?"

"I said forget about him. Forget they took Peter. Think-think about this like its a hostage situation at a...a bank or something."

"Cindy-" you began to argue, but you were slowly seeing what she was talking about.

"Whoever they are, they made it personal by taking Peter. Whether they knew it or not." They did. "So you can't act on impulse, you won't make the right decisions. You need to think about this and make a plan. What about-what about the Avengers?"

"I can't." You shook your head. "He said it has to be me and only me. He'll kill Peter if I don't come alone."

"Okay. Well then, that's all the more reason you need to think straight." You could hear the hesitancy in her voice from the fear she was trying to suppress, just as you were, but Cindy was also trying to extend confidence to you. As you stood next to her, you tried your hardest to let it in.

"I have no information." You admitted. "I don't know where he is. The only thing I can do is wait for him to reach out to me. How did I let this happen?"

This time you let Cindy approach you, but mainly because you had no choice. The girl grabbed your face and focused your attention on her, a fire in her eyes. "Listen to me Y/N: you didn't know. You'll have your fair share of blaming yourself for things later, but it wasn't your fault that they took Peter. You were in no control of that. The only thing you can do now is to save him. And that's what you do, isn't it? You save people. Every day. Now, are you going to let me continue to lecture you into sense, or are you going to get Peter back?"

You didn't know how many times Cindy was going to be your voice of reason in your life, but you were sure this wasn't going to be the last.

The air in the room was grim, the consequences hung thick above your head, but through the dark, there was a sliver of light. And that was all you needed.

"Do you still have that emergency web fluid I stashed here?"

•••••

Whoever he was, the man was smart, you'll give him that. Not that you found any consolation in the revelation.

The first thing you did once you had suited up was order Karen to search for and single out anything out of the ordinary such as power outages or spikes, as well as keeping an ear open for police broadcasts.

Cindy stayed at her home, but she promised to help you the best she could. You had hid while she told Nari that she was going to stay in her room for the day to practice piano and it wasn't too much of a surprise that the excuse had satisfied her mother. What was a surprise however, was the fact that Cindy had a recorded audio file of her practicing a few pieces on her phone, and after plugging it in to a speaker, it sounded like the real thing. She told you it came in handy when she wanted to read or do something else to get her parents off her back. In hindsight, it wasn't entirely surprising.

Anyway, Cindy was still in her bedroom, except you had hacked her into the CCTV footage that was now restored in the alley where you had last seen Peter, in case something popped up there.

Needless to say, he had to send a message to you somehow, and you had to be prepared to intercept it in any way it could reach you.

What wound up catching your eye-or rather your ear-was the signal broadcast Karen brought to your attention. And you were glad she did, because you wouldn't have heard it otherwise.

The frequency had to be put through three different translators for you to actually be able to hear it, and even then, the tone was still shrill and left a residue of ringing after every beep.

You knew this had to be the message somehow. You had been searching, waiting. While it was barely ten in the morning, Peter had been gone far too long. You were getting him back today, that wasn't up for debate.

It took you longer than you would like to admit for you to realize that that the beeps were not only on a loop, but were morse code. Things progressed faster from there, Karen translating as the message came in, and soon you had a set of coordinates locked into your suit's GPS.

He was still in New York.

The news brought relief to you, but you couldn't fully enjoy it. Peter had still gotten kidnapped because of you. Being held to ransom because of you.

Cindy's voice reminded you to stay calm as you told her about the coordinates. To pretend that it wasn't Peter you were saving.

It had helped at first, to try and pretend. But then it didn't. You cared for everyone, whether they were friends or family or a complete stranger. Any injury - any death - would weigh on your conscience no matter the situation and who was involved.

The reminder helped you from charging in headfirst with no plan, but there was nothing that could change the fact that it was your best friend that was in danger. The boy that you'd grown up with. The boy you had fallen in love with.

The coordinates led you to an under construction building in Staten Island. The first ten stories were complete, but the ones above only had drywall and metal beams for support. You perched a few blocks away, talking to Cindy as you scanned the building.

"I was expecting a fight," You murmured as the scan highlighted only two heat signatures, both near the top. One was definitely standing. "It looks like there's only one guy and..."

"Is one of them Peter?" You inhaled shakily. It did look like the other figure was being forced down. The odds were more likely than not.

"I-I think so."

"Okay, so the plan just changed a little. No fighting just yet, but don't let down your guard. He could have the place surrounded and ready to become a battlefield in a matter of seconds."

"Right. I should have brushed up on my negotiation skills."

"Don't let him get to you." Cindy commanded over the line. "I need to go, it sounds like someone's coming up the stairs, but keep me updated and I'll call back as soon as I can."

"Yeah." You were trying your hardest to keep the confidence you had any other time you donned the Spider-Woman suit, but it was hard. Harder than anything else you've ever faced. This was the most personal your job as a hero had ever gotten, and you weren't prepared.

You hung up with a click, and began to swing to where Peter was being held. Keeping your eyes peeled, you watched to see if anything on the ground seemed physically concerning, but all was normal. No big vans that men could come rushing out of. No traces of bombs or any other weapons. But there were cameras. A lot of them. Around and even inside the construction zone. If this guy was in control of them, it looked like you wouldn't be getting the element of surprise.

You dropped in on the upper floors anyway. Out of years of media consumption and combat experience, you knew it was always better to have the high ground.

One by one, you slowly cleared the floors, trying to get a scope of the unfinished layout of the building, when you heard the sounds of a laugh, a chair being dragged across the floor, and a partially muffled yelp. Turning the thermal scan back on, you began to panic. You moved quietly but quicker as you watched the figure drag Peter toward what would be an exterior wall. But as of this moment, it was nothing but openness.

Your lenses returned to normal as you stalked on the rafters just above the room. You could see only the tips of fours shoes from your position. One a pair of beat up converse, the other steel toed worker boots. Scared, you didn't want to move forward in case you would be spotted. But you also knew you had to. You needed to get Peter out of there and safe again. He was priority number one.

But it looked like go time was now. You had already been spotted. Just as you made eye contact with the black glass covering of a camera right in front of you, came a voice.

"Come out of hiding, Spider, we know you're here."

It was the same man from last night. The amusement that oozed from his voice fueled the part of you that wanted the satisfaction of punching him in the face.

A beat, and then you dropped down. There were monitors set up behind you all viewing live camera feed, including the one from the camera you just faced. Your stomach churned with humiliation as you realized that Peter had seen your hesitation. But humiliation wasn't an emotion you could afford to have as your eyes focused on the sight in front of you.

Peter looked relatively unharmed, spare for a black eye and a cut lip, and again, it sent a flicker of relief through you. But all color had drained from his face, and dark circles took up residence under his eyes. His expression didn't show fear, but everything else about him did. It took you a second to register why his hands and feet weren't bound, and you didn't like the answer.

Your gaze then saw the arm that was holding the back of the chair in which Peter was seated. The hand that was holding Peter up in place at an angle. Because the two front legs of the chair were tilted up in the air so that his feet were an inch from touching the ground.

And to make matters worse, in the man's other hand, he held a gun, finger around the trigger and barrel pointed at Peter's head.

You didn't like that. You didn't like that at all.

"I'm impressed." The man spoke, his face still covered with the scarf. You wanted to rip it off with your bare hands, but one wrong move and it would be game over. "We only got here about ten minutes before I got reports of your spotting coming over the bridge."

"Anyone else joining this party, or is it just us?" You decided to ask. You were trying your hardest to keep your calm, but behind the mask you wore, your eyes kept glimpsing over to Peter.

The man tilted his head. "Just us. I told you the theatrics hadn't yet started, and lucky for you, I can make a lot out of a little."

"Lucky me," you said, the words gritting through your teeth. You could practically feel Peter's gaze burning into you like a flame to a paper and there was nothing you wanted more than for this to be over. For your arms to be around him, bringing him far away from here. For him to be safe. Because it was obvious he was never safe with you. "What are the chances you'll let him go and we have some kind of epic fight that leads to your eventual time behind bars?"

"Oh no," He chuckled and Peter's eyes widened, the hold he had on his emotions slipping. You were jealous he had one in the first place, but now wasn't the time or place. "This is going to be quick and to the point. I took a page from one of the oldest books out there. An ultimatum."

You knew where this situation was going and you knew where it was going fast.

"You might wear a mask to hide your face, but we all know you use it as a shield. I know how scared you are under there. You don't want him dead, and frankly neither do I. But someone has to teach you a lesson since no one has succeeded before."

"I thought you were smart." Your voice was close to a growl, you deciding to let anger lead. Anything was better than fear.

"I am, don't you worry," He clicked his tongue. "The choice is yours, Spider. See, you either take out me, the leader of a group that has big plans for New York City, and put me in prison for a few years, or you ensure his safety, but unfortunately for you, I get away scot-free." You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something you would regret. "But don't forget your boyfriend here has had hours to prepare his last words. We spent a lot of time together, wouldn't you say? Learned a lot." The man finished with a chuckle.

Peter started shaking his head and before you could tell him to stop, he spoke. His words fast and shaky. "Y/-- I never said anything about--"

You nearly launched yourself forward the millisecond the gun made an impact with Peter's face in a sickening slap. "What did I tell you about talking?" The man hissed. "Your turn with the spotlight is over." You flinched when he leaned Peter back even more, the boy's head now clear over the edge. Once he was let go, he was sure to fall. It was rare you ever wished anyone dead, the list reserved for mainly fictional villains, but this man had just skipped himself straight to the top.

"You're insane." You attempted to speak, but you were losing what control you had and your voice trembled. The little confidence you did have was now nearly completely gone. You knew you were going to have to make a decision, and you knew which one it was going to be.

"I'm logical." He said, a correcting tone to his voice. "Come on," he then coaxed, "Make your move. We all know what it's going to be, and I have a reservation at eight."

"Don't."

Peter's voice was a whisper. A plead. And it pierced right through you like a blade.

Peter Parker had always been a boy who cared about everything. So it would only make sense that he would also be the type of person to put others before him. And he has, for as long as you could remember. Peter's heart was his biggest asset as well as his worst downfall. He thought with it as well with his brain every second of every day for every situation. You've thought more than you could count about what could have been if that spider had bit Peter instead of you. If it had chosen the next person, the boy that was standing right by your side that day. If instead of you, he had become Spider-Man. He would have been better at it than you were, you were damn sure of that.

You didn't know what he had seen in the hours he had been taken that would make him decide to sacrifice himself for, and you hated that he had seen it. That he would be willing to die so the bad guy didn't get away. So that the man that kidnapped him and hurt him to get to you would be sentenced to prison.

You didn't know what he had seen, what he knew, but something you did know was that you were going to find out.

And Peter was going to be the one to tell you.

You lifted your wrists with the purpose to yank Peter to you with one web, and to get rid of the gun with the other, but you weren't expecting the man to be watching as closely as he was. To be as ready as he was.

The sound of a gunshot rang in your ears and you had missed both of your targets.

In a moment of panic, your spider sense made time seem to slow down. You watched as Peter tipped back over the edge. Listened as his heart pounded in his chest.

Peter reached out for you, mouth open in a silent scream.

But his hand was too far away. Even as you leapt to him.

There wasn't any time to think steps ahead before you acted. You didn't know if your webs had held the man in place or not because you didn't even spare a glance when you aimed or to see if you had cemented the man to the floor or not. He was right. He knew what you were going to choose, he knew what you cared about more, and it was Peter.

It always was Peter, and it always will be Peter.

And that's why you dived after him.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel #peter parker imagines #ppib #peter parker #spiderman #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagines #avengers #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #marvel imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #mcu

20 notes · View notes