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scarredwithcruelintentions · 2 days

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chapter 7: sorrowful lash

Find the master list here!

CW: Allusions to past trauma.

W/C: 1,835

A/N: A shorter chapter this time.

Astarion rolled over, a pain unlike any he’d experienced in his two hundred years as a spawn cleaving his skull. He recognized the symptoms of a hangover, shocked to find that he could still develop one as a vampire. Though, he supposed he had drunk quite a bit to numb the shocking sting of your rejection. He moaned his discomfort, blinking blearily against the sun’s rays penetrating his tent as he sat up. He gave himself a moment to gather his bearings and then parted its flaps, wincing at the sudden increase in brightness.

Looking around the grounds, he was surprised to find them all but deserted. He could hear Karlach humming somewhere nearby, and smelled the unnaturally dark ozone of Gale on the breeze. He could not, however, find anything more than the faint fragrance of you that lingered on your belongings. It appeared as though you’d left for the day, and a sense of panic washed over him as the events of the evening prior came to the forefront of his mind.

Gods, what have I done? I’ve ruined it!

He caught sight of Karlach in his peripheral vision, head whipping around to glare at her.

“Where’ve they gone?” he snapped, voice harsher than he’d meant it to be.

“Aw, cheer up, Soldier! She’ll be back before you know it,” she chirped with a grin, taking no offense at his sour tone.

“And just what in the bloody Hells is that supposed to mean?” he snarled, bristling with embarrassment at her knowing expression.

“You’re daft if you truly believe we don’t all see it, Astarion,” was all she said in response, bright smile still residing on her face. She continued her trek onward, whistling a jaunty tune.

“That’s not a damn answer!” he shouted after her.

She only continued to whistle as she walked out of his line of sight.

He huffed his annoyance, then retreated back into his tent, yanking the furs of his bedroll up over his head.

Apparently, it was to be another very long and arduous day. ______________________________________________________________

The next time he popped his head out, the dusk was already losing its battle for the sky to the blanket of night. He was relieved to see Shadowheart and Lae’zel making nice over a shared meal, Wyll laughing heartily with Gale as Karlach told impassioned tales of her adventures in the Hells. His eyes continued to scan the campgrounds, looking for any sign of you and finding none. He could smell that you’d made it back, but could not locate your whereabouts among the other companions. A warning bell tolled in his mind, anxiety tightening its chokehold on his unbeating heart.

He crept silently from his tent, following your scent as it gradually intensified. He found you sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree by the riverbank, knees drawn to your chest and arms hugging them close. He marveled at the glow of the waxing moon on your skin, sleeves of your nightdress falling to expose your shoulders. Your hair rippled gently with the breeze, reminding him of the water as it ran over and between hidden stones. You gazed out into the waiting darkness, eerily silent.

“I’d ask if you wanted company, but I doubt you’ve come all the way out here to find it,” he called out, grimacing guiltily when you startled.

When the frantic beating of your heart had slowed to a normal pace again, he took stock of your expression. There was a weary mournfulness burdening your gaze, and he was briefly arrested in his movement by just how terribly sad you looked. You said nothing, but moved to make room for him to sit next to you.

“Just needed some space to think, ‘s all,” you whispered, voice strangely devoid of emotion.

He wrung his hands uneasily, a million worries about what might have caused your strife darting through his mind.

“About last night -” he began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“I don’t need apologies. As I’ve said before, it’s not you. Yours was far from the first bed I’d declined at the party.”

That drove an unwitting chuckle from him, quickly hushing himself at the unimpressed raise of your brow.

“I may have overheard several…propositions, shall we say, for a night of shared ecstasy,” he explained.

You cracked a small smile, momentarily loosening the grip around his heart.

“Eavesdropping, were you?” you questioned, amusement plain.

“Perhaps,” was his only reply.

You looked away again, staring unseeingly at the horizon.

Without turning to address him directly, you asked in a cold, distant tone, “Then why did you try your luck? What makes you think you’re any different?”

The grip around his heart tightened once again, breath catching in his throat and dizzying him with its sudden ferocity. Words failed him as a sense of burning shame enveloped him.

“I see the way each one of you looks at me. Admiration, adoration, idolatry…lust. As though I’m something to be consumed, a bottomless well of giving. A savior from your many sins. Have I not my own to atone for as well? Am I not due an ounce of respect for all I’ve sacrificed to get us this far?”

Though your words carried the weight of long held anger, they fell from your lips with a lifeless monotony. He hastily opened his mouth - to explain or apologize, he knew not which - but you began to speak again.

“I suppose it matters not. I am whatever I am perceived to be. No more, no less.”

A haunting echo of his own emotions reverberated dully within his skull; he knew this pain. Had lived with it for too long himself. He lost himself in the roar of agony between his ears for a time, startling when he heard a quiet sniffle.

“Forgive me,” you whispered, breath hiccupping with sorrow.

Finding his voice, he murmured, “Dearest, there is nothing to forgive. It is I who should be asking your forgiveness, once again. I would lie and say it was the wine talking, but I find that I can’t when it comes to you.”

He was surprised by his own honesty, words falling from him with an ease he was unaware he possessed. You turned to look at him shrewdly, tears spilling as you narrowed your eyes to discern his truthfulness. You said nothing, wordlessly urging him to continue. He took a shaking breath, steadying himself.

“You have shown me kindness unlike anyone I’ve met in the whole of my life, both before I was turned and after. You have no expectations of me, have given me no reason to believe that your motives lie elsewhere. You are simply lovely, just for the sake of being so.

I, too, have been wanted for things I was unprepared to give, and have been forced to give them anyway. It is a burden I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you. So, please, forgive me. I am not well versed in matters of sentient interaction beyond those of carnal depravity.”

You sucked in a gasping breath as he finished his monologue, and he turned sharply to look at you just as a great sob pushed past your lips. An icy shard of dread punched through him at the sound, fearful he’d said something wrong yet again. He watched your hands twist in the fabric of your nightdress just over your heart, clawing as though you could rip the wretched thing from your chest just so that this torment, whatever it may be, might end.

“Have I done it wrong again?” he whispered, nerves making his voice tremble.

You only cried harder, despair leaking freely from you and into the recesses of his soul, a reflection of your pain mirrored in him with its intensity. He was at a loss as to how to comfort you, never having seen you so distraught. Something urged him to reach out to you, to hold you and pet through the strands of your hair soothingly until you quieted. But another voice, louder and more ominous, told him that he should not touch you just yet. It screamed that you knew exactly of what he spoke, knew it in a way he dared not fathom.

He began to hum the lament of yours that he so loved, unsurely at first, then with more fervor. It had helped him in his darkest moment of weakness; he could only hope that it would help you much the same. Your fitful sobs gradually turned into hiccups, sniffles and then silence as you came back to yourself, listening intently to your favored tune whispered back to you. You eventually reached out to clasp his hand in yours, placing a sweet kiss on the back of it in thanks.

You gestured at the space between you and him, asking quietly, “May I?”

He wordlessly held his arm aloft, inviting you to sidle closer as he continued to hum your song. You folded into his arms, resting your head against his chest to feel the rumble of his voice. He reached a hand up and into your soft tresses, blunt nails scraping along your scalp as he sang the last phrase. A contented silence fell in its wake, one hand running idly through your hair as you held the other.

You eventually broke it with a quiet apology.

“Whatever are you sorry for now, my sweet?” he murmured, continuing his slow, soothing ministrations.

“That you’ve been used that way,” you whispered back, cautious of breaking the fragile moment.

“Ah, that. Think nothing of it, darling. If anything, it’s taught me to cherish these moments of freedom all the more.”

“Nonetheless, it’s an awful burden to carry,” you responded forlornly.

“It is one of many that weighs on me, but it is far from the worst,” he intoned, voice bitter and solemn.

“I am always here to lend an ear, should you ever need it, dear Star.”

“Perhaps one day,” he answered, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

The lull in conversation preceded another blanket of comfortable silence, and he listened to the sound of your breath mingled with the night ambiance. It was serene, startlingly so, to hold you close and offer you the same sanctuary you’d given him so freely. An uncharacteristic tenderness overwhelmed him, and he clutched you ever so slightly tighter, as though this beautiful dream were liable to shatter around him at any moment.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence for a final time.

“We found the gith creche today. I’m taking Lae and Shadowheart with me tomorrow to infiltrate it. Lae insists that the zaith’isk will cure us, but I have my reservations. Besides, I found a reference as to the Blood of Lathander’s whereabouts, and I have reason to believe it might be hidden somewhere in the temple the gith commandeered. Would you like to join us and cause some chaos?”

“My dear, there’s nothing I’d love more.”

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desultory-suggestions · 24 days

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People who love you shouldn't make you feel ashamed of your interests and hobbies. What you enjoy is wonderful, even if it's uncommon, complicated, stereotypical, etc. Please keep sharing your lovely energy with the world.

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stevesbipanic · 3 months

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@steddiemicrofic prompt: edge, WC: 509, rating: T

Eddie arrived home to a quiet house, which wasn't completely unusual for the Harrington home to be quiet but usually Eddie found his boyfriend moving around the kitchen making dinner, softly singing along to the radio.

"Steve?" He called out but was met with more silence. Strange, but Steve could be up in bed, maybe he had a migraine. Eddie checked quickly upstairs but found their bed cold and empty too. He'd seen Steve's car in the driveway so he hadn't left, and Robin didn't have her licence yet so she couldn't have picked him up, plus he'd have left a note.

Eddie went back downstairs checking the loving room hoping maybe Steve had just fallen asleep on the couch. Still, he was nowhere to be found. He went back to the kitchen ready to start calling around hoping maybe Steve was just visiting someone and forgot to leave a note. He was halfway through dialling the Hendersons when a shadow in the backyard caught his eye.

"Oh sweetheart," he mumbled to himself as he hung up the phone. Eddie grabbed a blanket off the couch and opened to sliding door to the back deck. Steve didn't flinch at the sound, eyes staying ahead. Sighing, Eddie wrapped the blanket around Steve's shoulders and joined him sitting at the edge of the pool.

The two boys sat silent for a few moments, Eddie knew better to just wait for Steve to talk, he'd made his presence known and that's what Steve needed right now. He wouldn't always talk, sometimes choosing to simply sit before they went back inside and curled up in bed. Sometimes Steve wanted touch, sometimes he'd just want to know Eddie was there.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Steve spoke. "It's been five years and I can't look at this pool and not see her." Eddie knew who they were talking about, after all only one girl had drowned in this pool. "She should be at college with, Nance, she should get to have a grave with a body in it, she should be here instead of," Steve choked out a sob instead of finishing that thought. Even though it ripped Eddie's heart to shreds, and wanted nothing more than to tell Steve he's loved and that it's not his fault, he knew Steve didn't want that, he'd said those words a million times before, Steve knew so Eddie waited.

Steve tilted his body until he lent against Eddie's side and Eddie let out a breathe as he was finally allowed to comfort his boy, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. He sat there with Steve crying softly in his arms until they slowed to a stop, it was time for bed.

Eddie took his hand leading him back into the house and upstairs, curling him into his chest and reminding him he was there, that he'd always be there.

"I think it's time to move, Steve."

"Do you think she'd forgive me?"

"I know she already has," and that was enough.

#another month another microfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #barb holland #past trauma #grief #dealing with grief #letting go of the past

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whumpshaped · 5 months

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I know it's cliche, but hear me out. The Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master trope, just that Caretaker is trying to give Whumpee a bath, and Whumpee used to be punished being drowned or something like that, so they beg Caretaker that they'll be good, that they'll behave, etc.

tw past trauma, caretaker new master, conditioned whumpee

“No! No, please, Master, I’m sorry!”

“What’s gotten into you?” Caretaker stared down at the poor thing in front of them hugging their legs like there was no tomorrow. “Whumpee–”

“I’ll be good! I’ll behave! I don’t know what I did, Master, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being so stupid that I didn’t even realise I was being bad! I’m so sorry!”

“Whumpee, I’m just trying to give you an opportunity to wash up–”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

Caretaker sighed. Alright, they just had to pet their hair and wait it out.

“Hey, Whumpee…” they tried again once the pet had quieted down a little. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they sniffled. They didn’t sound very okay, but it was a start. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Why do you think you did something wrong, honey?”

“I– I must’ve, I must’ve! I know I did something, if you want t-to– to ‘give me a bath’, I– please, please d-don’t, I’m so sorry…”

Caretaker frowned. “What do you think a bath means?”

Whumpee looked up at them with those wide, tear-filled eyes, so terrified that Caretaker could barely stand it. “D-drowning, Master. Please, I, I know I must deserve it, but please, punish me any other way! I can’t do it again, I can’t, please…”

Oh, that sick bastard.

“Shh, sweetie… It’s okay…” They tried to unwrap Whumpee’s arms from around their legs so they could help them stand up, but eventually they just settled for getting on the floor with them. They pulled Whumpee into a tight hug, rubbing their back as they continued to cry. “I didn’t mean it like that… I’m never gonna hurt you like that, yeah? Ever.”

“Y-you’re… not?”

“No, of course not. Of course not. I promised you’d be safe here, and I meant it. Let’s just calm down.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #past trauma #caretaker new master #conditioned whumpee #recovery fic #comfort

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straight-to-the-pain · 5 months

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I’ve been thinking about how often we see stories about people getting out of an awful situation and being surrounded with support and care and getting to move on and recover.

But what if they don’t. They’ve spent god knows how long in their own personal hell, captivity, torture, isolation. For what felt like an eternity, they held onto the idea of finally being freed, rescued, released. And one day it just happens. Political pressure, a hostage exchange, a rescue. Whatever happens, one day they’re just free.

But they come home and everything’s different. They never had a huge network to begin with, and now the people who still care just don’t know how to deal with them and their trauma. It’s all too much. They’re not the person they used to be, the person their friends used to love.

Sure, they’ve been given medical treatment for their obvious wounds but the doctors just don’t seem to understand them when they say that there’s a pain that never quite goes away. They’ve had the mandatory counselling, but the therapist’s empty platitudes made them feel all the more disconnected from their reality.

For so long, they waited for this. But now it feels like their past is an impossible weight on their chest, never letting them move forward. People tell them that they have their future ahead of them, but they can’t help but wonder if they should have just died there.

#whump #tropes and prompts #past trauma #implied/referenced torture #emotional whump #my stuff #I’m sorry this is such a bleak one but I just felt like it wasn’t represented much in writing #but like sometimes there isn’t a happy ending for a long time #i do hope that it’ll get better for this hypothetical character but who can say for sure

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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 14

14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation

cw past trauma, implied noncon/torture, hurt/comfort, aftermath of whump

“You’re slower than usual,” Hero teased when they pinned Villain to the wall. “Lost your edge after that little vacation you took?”

Villain was breathing heavily. Their hands grasped at Hero’s, which were fisted in the front of their suit, but Villain lacked their typical strength. “Wasn’t a vacation, you jerk,” they huffed. “And I’m doing my best here.”

Hero pulled one of their hands back, and their heart jumped when Villain flinched away from them; they’d never reacted like that before. The instinctual fear was clearly visible in their eyes.

“Whoa, hey,” Hero said softly. “I was just gonna—your mask is slipping.”

Villain looked down, frowning. “Sorry. I just...go ahead.”

Hero raised their hands slowly and adjusted Villain’s mask, noting the sharp intake of breath when Hero’s fingers grazed their cheek. As they put it back in place, Hero could see a dark bruise hiding under the mask. The slightest bit of purple spread up their cheekbone.

Villain was trembling when Hero stepped back.

“Are you okay?” Hero asked. Logically, they knew they should take advantage of Villain’s weakness and bring them in. But they just couldn’t bring themself to be that cruel.

“When I was gone this week,” Villain whispered, “I was...Supervillain took me hostage. I’ll spare you the details but...they did some shit to me I wouldn’t even do to my enemies.”

Hero felt their heart ache at the admission and the pained expression in Villain’s eyes when they looked back up. “I’m sorry, I—I had no idea.”

“Not your fault,” Villain said with a shrug. They tried to force a smile as well, but it didn’t quite work. “But it messed me up pretty good. I can’t sleep. I can’t move without remembering their hands on me.”

A sick feeling curled in Hero’s stomach as they imagined what the normally collected Villain must have been through to have them on the verge of tears at the memory. They slowly reached out, giving Villain enough time to stop them—but when they didn’t, Hero pulled them into an embrace. “It’s over,” they muttered into Villain’s hair. “You're safe now.”

Their words seemed to open the floodgates, and suddenly Villain broke down. Hero didn’t know what to do, so they just held their nemesis as they cried. The fact that they’d been in the middle of a fight passed through Hero’s mind, but it didn’t matter now. They were a hero—their job was to help people. Even if those people regularly made their life hell.

“I’m sorry,” Villain choked out. “This is pathetic. And I—I deserved it.”

“No one deserves to be hurt like that,” Hero said, rubbing their back in soothing circles.

Villain tried to steady their breathing as they looked up at Hero, eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. Just—give me a minute, and we can get back to it.”

“What do you say we get a rain check,” Hero asked with a small smile, “and you let me buy you a coffee instead?”

Villain sniffled and rolled their eyes. “As long as you promise to reschedule. Because I was looking forward to kicking your ass.”

Hero laughed. “Okay, deal.”

Although the coffee may not have truly fixed anything, it was a welcomed comfort.

taglist: @morning-star-whump

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno14 #flinching #breakdown #hero x villain #hero villain writing #hero caretaker #villain whumpee #implied torture #implied noncon #aftermath of whump #past trauma #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #snippet

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feverdreamsanddelusions · 4 months

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dialogue 15

bad caretaker ask game

15. "one more sound and i swear i'll bring you back to whumper."

[tw bad caretaker, whumpee goes nonverbal, betrayal, past trauma]

"One more sound and I swear I'll bring you back to Whumper."

The room immediately fell silent after that, and Caretaker didn't even seem to care about the way Whumpee's tear-filled eyes widened in sheer terror. They went on with the bandaging process as though their words had meant nothing at all. As though that wasn't the most horrifying thing they could've said.

Whumpee couldn't see straight from the panic. They took the rough treatment without a single hiss, focusing all their energy on drawing the quietest breaths they could.

They were not going back. They didn't want to go back. They didn't want Caretaker to bring them back. Going back was one thing, but if they absolutely had to, they would've... wanted their friend to object to it.

Was that selfish of them?

Had they been selfish this entire time?

Was that why Caretaker was so incredibly upset with them, to the point of wanting to hand them over to their abuser?

After minutes of having worked themself up, Whumpee's mind gave out. It was like a switch being flipped, all that anxiety suddenly disappeared and left a gaping hole in its wake. They felt nothing. They couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in their ear; the sound of static was too overwhelming.

They stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity. Their mind was going to places it hadn't in a very long time, and they flinched violently when Caretaker shook them by the shoulders — they didn't let a single sound escape, though.

"Whumpee. We're done."

Whumpee looked at them almost like they were a stranger. In a way, they were. It was easier to believe that, than to think a person who had promised them protection and safety was so ready to threaten several more years of torture at the hands of someone who had already done it once.

They nodded in acknowledgement.

Caretaker sighed. "Don't... don't do this. I didn't mean that. You don't have to go on a week-long nonverbal strike against me."

Whumpee opened their mouth to answer, to make sure Caretaker knew they weren't upset at all. Because they weren't. Not at all. They weren't upset. They weren't. They couldn't be. They had no right to be. They had to be good, they had to be pleasant so Caretaker wouldn't have a reason to threaten this again. But as they tried to form the words to reassure their friend, they just couldn't do it.

"For fuck's sake, Whumpee..." Caretaker rubbed their temples in frustration. "I– no, I'm not– I'm not doing this. I'm not indulging your fucking paranoia. Not today. Take your time, calm down a little, and then we can talk later if you want." They stood up and grabbed the remaining roll of gauze, promptly leaving Whumpee alone in the kitchen.

Whumpee eventually forced themself to move so Caretaker wouldn't get even angrier by the time dinner rolled around and they were still sitting in the same spot, retreating to their room instead. They knew hiding in there would cause more conflicts, but their brain still felt like it had been scrambled. There was nothing in their head but a primal need to protect themself, a need so strong it made their throat close up every time they tried to practise their apology.

They couldn't even cry. Whumper hated whenever they cried.

#thank you!!!#whump #whump drabble #bad caretaker #whumpee goes nonverbal #betrayal #past trauma #res writes

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meraki24601 · 3 months

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You didn't do anything wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee said, cleaning up the largest shards of the broken glass they knocked off the table.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Caretaker replied, plastering a smile on their face as they wrote a mental note to announce themselves before approaching Whumpee from behind.

-----------*-***-*-----------

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee moaned as their tears stained Caretaker’s new shirt.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Caretaker sighed. They held Whumpee tighter in their arms, hoping their presence would scare away the bad dreams haunting the night.

-----------*-***-*-----------

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee laughed. Their hand rose to cover the lopsided grin spreading across their face.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Caretaker squealed, running to shut off the watering hose. Their soaked clothes clung to their skin, and their shoes squeaked as they ran.

-----------*-***-*-----------

“I’m sorry,” Caretaker wailed as Whumper’s thumb covered the large red button.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Whumpee closed their eyes. Their muscles tensed, ready for what came next.

#whump fic #whump scenario #whump #whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #whump ideas #oc #whump tropes #past trauma #hurt/comfort

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lionlena · 10 months

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Unforgivable mistake (JoelMillerxreader) Part 3

Summary: Reader is much younger than Joel and is in love with him. One night, after arguing with Tess and getting drunk, Joel spends the night with a reader, but in the morning he breaks her heart… She runs away from Boston hoping that she will never meet this cold bastard again in her life. But almost six years later, she unexpectedly sees Joel in Jackson. She decides to hide herself and her little secret from this asshole.

Warnings: age gap (reader is about 28 years, Joel 58), strong language, swearing, past trauma, bullying, attempted rape, memories of sexual abuse, unprotect p in v, dom!Joel, Joel is asshole, ANGST, hurt, sadness and heartbreaking

Part 3

Joel stared blankly at your door. His breathing was heavy, and his hands moved restlessly and clenched into fists. He wanted to start knocking, banging on the door, and screaming. He wanted to know more about his baby boy. He wanted to argue with you, but at the same time, he didn't want his son to associate him with evening arguing. He didn't want Teddy to be afraid of him.

He finally came home and locked himself in his room. He slept little in the night, still thinking about what he had learned and… He didn't agree with you. He was Teddy's father. Whether you wanted it or not, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant without him. No matter how small and bad a part of him was, he had a part in it. And he knew he would be a good father to his son, just as he was to Sarah. He may not have always been perfect, but he could love and show fatherly love. He wanted to look after Teddy. He just didn't know how. He suspected you'd stop him every time he tried to get close.

So all he had to do was watch the boy from a distance.

Almost 3 weeks after he found out about his son, he saw a scene that made his blood boil.

He had just returned from a patrol with Barbara. He was beginning to suspect that Maria kept connecting him whit this idiot on purpose because she could see how much he hated her.

Suddenly, the woman laughed and murmured, "This little son of Y/N is such a weakling."

He shot her an angry glare, then looked at the scene that was playing out a few meters away. Two boys, older and taller than Teddy, laughed at him as he tried to take his stuffed bunny away from them.

"Weakling? Is that what you call a child who is the victim of two bullies?!" He looked at her with contempt. "But what do you know about children? You're too old for your own. Which is lucky, because you'd obviously make a terrible mother!"

The woman opened and closed her mouth, and he moved quickly to the children. He snatched the stuffed animal from the boy's hands and growled: "Are you having fun? Why don't you try it with me."

Only then boy's mother appeared, who had previously been standing with another woman a few meters away, step in.

"What's going on?! They're just having fun."

"Play? Rather, they bully the younger child."

The woman snorted and looked at him indignantly. "How dare you." She reached out to her sons. "Boys, we're going home."

Joel snorted, then looked softly at Teddy. The boy ran to him and with a big smile took his bunny.

"Thank you," he said and looked at him like a hero.

Joel patted his head, but their interaction was interrupted by the woman who was the mother of the little girl.

"Teddy, we're coming back too."

The boy shook his head and suddenly snuggled up against Joel's leg, taking him completely by surprise. The woman winced slightly.

"Your mom asked me to take care of you. Come on."

"No," the little one moaned.

Joel bent down and picked the boy up. The toddler immediately wrapped his arms around his neck and it was the moment when Teddy, completely unconsciously, took over his dad's heart. Joel cleared his throat and confidently said, "I'll take care of him. I live next door to Y/N."

The woman looked uncertain, but she did not have the strength to face the childish tantrum. She shrugged and finally said, "All right."

Joel smiled and patted his son on the back. "Teddy, do you want to meet Ellie?" The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "Let's go. Do you want me to carry you?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

When Joel entered the house, Ellie gave him a surprised look. He walked past her and sat Teddy in a chair in the kitchen.

"Wait here. We'll find some crayons and paper for you in a moment."

Ellie grabbed his arm as he tried to cross the threshold. "What happened witch keeping distance?"

"Maybe it's time to break the ice." Seeing her shocked expression, he laughed a little and added: "Two boys were bullying him and I chased them away. And he stuck with me. What was I supposed to do?"

Ellie looked at the boy, who sat politely and waved his legs rhythmically. "Yes, he's cute, but what about Y/N?"

"Leave Mama Bear on my head."

"As you wish." She spread her arms and ran to the baby. "Hi, Teddy!"

The little one smiled widely and started talking to her, and Joel… Joel felt proud and happy. He had a wonderful, beautiful, smart son and he was not going to give up being his dad.

You were furious when Joanna told you who she allowed to take your treasure, your precious little one. You wanted to yell at her, scratch her eyes out, but at the same time, you knew that she often helped you by taking care of your child. Plus, how could she know about your hatred of Joel, from what she said, Teddy really wanted to go with him.

Ellie opened the door for you and gave you a sharp look. You knew he didn't like you, and you guessed why.

"Where is he?" you asked trying to contain all your rage.

The girl nodded and led you into the living room, your heart skipping a beat at the sight you saw. This could be the cutest picture in the world if it wasn't for the fact that your son fell asleep in this asshole's arms. Teddy looked so calm that your heart trembled. Joel was sitting on the couch with your little one sleeping on his chest, Teddy's little head resting on Joel's shoulder. You saw how protectively he held the little one and you wanted to break his arms. You moved towards him and hissed, "Give him to me."

Joel sighed heavily and whispered, "Calm down. I'll take him to your house in a moment."

You shook your head. "Give. Me. Him. NOW. And never touch him again," you hissed.

Joel rolled his eyes and muttered, "I won't hurt him."

You felt a wave of rage wash over you, and you didn't even care that Ellie was standing next to you. "You already hurt him. The moment you conceived him. The moment you ignored the fact that your dick was causing me pain."

Joel felt as if someone had punched him in the face. You took advantage of this and quickly took your son, who sleepily purred, "Mommy?"

You rubbed his back and whispered, "Shh, sleep baby."

You looked at Ellie who stared at you in shock. " I'm sorry that you heard this," you said as you walked past her and left their damned living room.

Ellie looked at Joel sadly. "Teddy is your son." he nodded. "And you hurt Y/N?"

Joel immediately stood up and walked over to her, but she backed away sharply, so he stopped. "What? No, Ellie... It's not like that. Y/N was an adult and... She wanted it."

She looked at him. "Really? Because it didn't sound like that at all!" He reached out to her, but she pushed him away and ran out of the house.

Joel rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. Why did he have to screw everything up? But he didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted to spend some time with his own child.

You put your son to bed when you heard a soft knock. You swung the door open and growled, "What the fuck..." You stopped mid-sentence. "Ellie? Sorry, I thought it was Joel.”

"Can we talk?"

Her behavior disturbed you. She didn't look like the saucy, rebellious teenager you used to see. She was more like a scared child, and your maternal instincts took over immediately. "Of course. Come on." When she came in, you put your arm around her and led her to the kitchen. "Would you like some lemonade?"

"Hmm."

You sat across from each other at the kitchen island. Ellie was silent, and you decided to break the silence. "Look, I'm really sorry. I lost my nerves. I just told Joel not to go near Teddy and..."

"Did he force you to get pregnant? Did he rape you?"

You froze at first. Ellie stared at you with sad eyes, and you realized there was something more in this question. You grabbed her hand and calmly asked, "Ellie, did someone hurt you?"

She nodded at first, but then said, "No... I mean... He tried."

You swallowed, afraid to ask if it was Joel. Part of you absolutely didn't believe it. Joel was a bastard, he was an asshole, he was a complete dick, but... Not a pedophile. You didn't know how far you could go and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was silence for a long time and you wanted to apologize to her when she took a shuddering breath and started saying, "It was after we left Jackson. Joel got hurt and (...)"

You listened patiently to her stories about David and his cult, how they ate people, and how he wanted to use Ellie, even force her to have children with him. You were scared and angry at the same time. The dude was worse than Joel. He was a hundred times worse dick. If it weren't for the fact that he was already dead, you would have found him and killed him yourself.

"Then Joel found me and I thought... I thought I was safe with him."

You wanted to hit yourself when you realized how Ellie read your words to Joel. You squeezed her hand tighter and said, "You're safe with him. I can say a lot of bad things about him, but Joel is not a pedophile, cannibal, or rapist."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said." You took a deep breath. "Listen to me. I was young and naive. I was in love with him and he... He didn't act like a decent guy, but he didn't rape me. I went to bed with him of my own free. Sex with him... He wasn't gentle, and in the morning he thought our night together was a mistake. He said a lot of nasty things to me and left me with a broken heart."

Ellie nodded and muttered, "He was an asshole."

"Yes."

"He's acting like that less and less." You smiled slightly at her words. "And Teddy?"

"He didn't know about him. I left Boston the next day and found out about the pregnancy while traveling."

Ellie looked down and mumbled, "I'm sorry that I thought you were a bitch."

"It's okay. I even understand you a little."

Suddenly Teddy appeared in the kitchen. He was still sleepy and rubbing his eyes with a small fist, but when he saw the teenage girl, he immediately woke up. "Ellie! Will you play with me?"

The girl looked at you, and you said, "Go ahead."

You were surprised at how well they got along. You didn't know if Ellie was affected by your son's charm or the fact that he was Joel's son, but you didn't care. You enjoyed their good relationship. By evening, Teddy had told you about how Joel helped him, and you felt a little silly. Maybe you needn't have been so hard on him. Your son obviously already loved him, not even knowing it was his dad.

You heard Ellie's quiet grunts and turned your attention to her.

"It's getting late," she said, and you nodded. "Could I stay here tonight?"

You were really surprised how quickly the relationship between you two changed.

"Of course you can, but Joel won't really hurt you."

"I know, but I'm still mad at him, for cheating me. He said you were getting revenge because he didn't want to leave Tess." You snorted annoyed. "He left out the rest."

"Okay. But you have to tell him." Ellie winced, and you sort of automatically added, "Okay, I'll let him know."

You didn't really know why you suggested it. Did it was, your motherly instinct to protect Ellie? Or did you want to stick another pin in Joel, letting him know that the teenage girl prefers you?

You couldn't back away from your words and you made your way to his house with heavy steps.

It was even funny to see how stupid Joel looked when he opened the door.

"Y/N?"

"Ellie wants to stay with me for the night. I agreed."

Joel leaned back slightly. He blinked once, then twice before he understood your words. He was sure Ellie stayed somewhere in town. When he realized she was with you, he felt uneasy.

"She talked to you?"

"Yes. She told me about David and wanted to know if you raped me." You could easily see the horror on his face. "You care about her?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"I told her the truth that I went to bed with you willingly. And that you were an asshole in the morning, but... You're not a pedophile or a rapist."

Joel's shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh of relief. You had the opportunity to hurt him deeply. Ruin his relationship with Ellie, but as always you had a good heart.

"Thank you and… I'm sorry I took Teddy."

He surprised you, but you didn't show it. You calmly replied, "Teddy told me what you did. He thinks you're a hero."

Joel smiled slightly. "These kids were teasing him and I..." He looked at you confidently. "I am his father, Y/N. No matter how hard you try, you won't change it. And I won't abandon him. I will protect him, love him, and take care of him. You can fight me or accept my help in raising him."

You shook your head and replied, " And here is old Joel. You're trying to fix the whole world, even though you're destroying it yourself, but fine. I'll let you date him but on one condition."

"What?"

"You're not allowed to say you're his father. You can be his friend or uncle, but not 'dad'. Do you understand?"

Joel clenched his jaw and looked at you angrily. He thought you were playing unfairly, but at the same time, he really wanted to look after Teddy.

"Alright," he murmured.

"Great" you replied and smiled. Then you turned on your heel and went home pleased with yourself. You knew your requirement would hurt Joel, but you thought he deserved it. Yes, he defended your son and took care of him, but that didn't mean your wounds were healed. You still felt that Joel didn't understand how much he hurt you. So you had every right to attack him.

A/N: I really think after what happened in episode 8, Ellie should talk to someone.

Part II

Part IV

Taglist: @ajeff855, @anislabonis-love, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi, @i-workwithpens, @milla-frenchy, @quality-lust @liatome @sarahhxx03 @creedslove @jojo-munson @pascalislove @sofiparallel

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel and ellie #ellie williams #joel miller x reader #joel miller and you #joel is daddy #joel is asshole #angst #past trauma

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echoingalaxies · 4 months

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A Whumpee who never smiles, never laughs, never shows happiness in those typical ways. When it finally does happen, everybody around them knows something is terribly wrong, and that the hysterical laughter is not from a place of joy, but because of the endless pain and horrors that have brought Whumpee to this extreme state of exhaustion and despair.

Whumpee's breaking down right in front of their friends' eyes, nearly unable to breathe through the fits of laughter because crying is no longer enough, and it's terrifying.

#riina </3 #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump ideas #whumpee #past trauma #breakdown #emotional whump #recovery whump #whump prompt

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whumperofworlds · 8 months

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A Whumper who has the power to enter dreams. They entered Whumpee's dreams and made them nightmares. Maybe they make them dream about a past trauma. Maybe they make a dream where Caretaker hurts them so bad that when Whumpee wakes up, they're outright terrified of Caretaker. Or maybe they trapped them in nightmares that they can't wake up from, as Caretaker and the team have to find a way to wake them up.

Feel free to add more!

#whump #whump prompt #nightmares #whumper #whumpee #caretaker #team whump #sort of?#dreams #past trauma #sleep #inspired by me having nightmares last night that made me cry

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desultory-suggestions · 2 months

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You will never have it all figured out. That can be an uncomfortable truth to accept, but remember that the goal is not to be prepared for everything. It is simply to be capable of responding healthily to the unexpected.

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friendlylocalwhumper · 8 months

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your character witnesses someone else going through the very same trauma that broke them. except it doesn’t break this person. it turns out okay - no one dies, or a gruesome injury is avoided, or someone actually comes to the rescue. your character is left to cope with the grief of not having been so lucky back in the day.

#whump #prompts #mine #angst #past trauma

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whumpshaped · 5 months

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this is a disgustingly fluffy prompt so beware slfkdh

caretaker always calls whumpee a word in their (caretaker‘s) native language, which whumpee doesn’t understand. but since they are very self loathing they just assume it’s something negative, since caretaker has to spend so much time and energy caring for and „tolerating“ whumpee. one day whumpee gets too curious though and decides to look up the word, only to find out it’s a pet name and caretaker has been calling them something lovingly the entire time

(bonus points if you do it in your native language i love learning new cute pet names!!)

sorry to all hungarians i know seeing this will cause some whiplash

tw pet whump, past trauma, caretaker new master

‘Easy, szívem.’

‘Szívem, could you bring me some water?’

‘You don’t have to push yourself, szívem.’

Whumpee accepted the nickname as their own easily. Whumper had given them plenty, although never ones they couldn’t even understand; useless, stupid, mutt… who knew which one Caretaker was using on them?

They avoided asking about it for the longest time. They told themself they were prepared for the meaning, that they could handle whatever degrading thing their new master ‘friend’ threw at them, but in reality… They weren’t prepared at all. They didn’t want to know. They wanted to pretend it was something nice, a term of genuine endearment, dear, darling, honey… Something people said to each other with kindness.

But eventually, curiosity won out. Whumpee sneaked into the study one day, picking out one of the dictionaries from the shelf. They thought about using the computer, but they chickened out. It would’ve been a much more egregious crime than opening a book.

The issue was, they had no idea how to spell the word. They started at ‘S’, flipping through pages upon pages and finding nothing. See-vem. See-vem. None of the words looked right. They eventually crossed over into the next letter, ‘Sz’, unsure what sound that would even make. It was all so confusing… How did Caretaker even speak this?

“Can I help you?”

Whumpee flinched at the voice, slamming the dictionary shut immediately. “C-Caretaker– I– I wasn’t– I wasn’t doing anything! I was cleaning, and the book fell down, I was just trying to check whether it was intact–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” they said with a smile. “I’m not mad, szívem. But if you were looking for something specific in there, maybe I could help.”

“N-no, no, it’s… it’s nothing… I…” They took a deep breath, trying to ground themself. It was now or never, really. They wouldn’t get a better chance to ask. “Well… I, I was wondering about, um… The nickname, I guess. What you always call me.”

“Ah, of course. I’m sorry, I’ve never really explained it, have I? It’s just a term of endearment.” They pulled out their phone and typed something. “I’m pretty sure the dictionary only has the root word. Here.”

Whumpee took the phone gingerly, looking at the translation program. Original word, in Hungarian: szívem. Yeah, they would’ve never gotten that right. Translation, in English…

Their eyes widened in disbelief. Next to them, Caretaker chuckled. “What did you think it meant?” they asked cheerily, seemingly unaware of all the horrible options that had been swirling around in Whumpee’s head before.

“I… I don’t even know,” they breathed.

They definitely didn’t think it meant something as innocent as ‘my heart’.

#asks #whump #whump drabble #pet whump #past trauma #caretaker new master #recovery fic #comfort

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