#EVEN MORE DEVASTATING AND I COULD TWIST IT TO BE WORSE IF YOU GIVE ME A MINUTE😋

[thatstoomanysausages]

In all seriousness, if we want to get introspective and dramatic about Grian’s reactions to Skizz and Mumbo’s deaths, then the implications are completely devastating.

Grian’s loud sobbing for Mumbo because he knew it was the third time he been (at least partially) at fault for Mumbo’s final deaths. Everyone knew about Grian and Mumbo’s closeness, and Grian was alone and out of earshot for anyone to hear him mourn so viciously.

However, in complete juxtaposition, Grian’s calm acceptance of Skizz’s death could’ve been because Martyn was right there, and he would’ve been seen as weak. And this is a common theme for Grian, playing off his loyalties as flippant and temporary when he is in actual fact one of the most loyal teammates. He’d been preparing for Skizz’s death the whole season, having spent many episodes helping Skizz stay alive, but the one in which he doesn’t help him as much and instead Mumbo, Skizz dies.

Mumbo’s death was the first sign for Grian’s team, once again, falling apart with him left behind to gather their pale corpses and place them underneath the ground under a bland headstone. Skizz’s was the expected and inevitable confirmation, something Grian had accepted was coming.

Mumbo’s death was loud and explosive, while Skizz’s was expected and underwhelming. Just like Grian’s reactions.

[thebearer]

in your eyes, the man that i could be |carmen berzatto x reader| part two

prompt: after carmen finds out you're staying at pete and sugar's house, he goes to try and talk to you. he's faced with his furious sister and harsh truths instead.

or part two of the devastation fic lol that is based off this ask from the other day <3

contains: angst! angst! this one is very much so more carmen focused bc let's be real... he's the problem in this one lol. still hurt with no comfort but more this one than last one?? mentions to past trauma, family trauma. sugar clears carmen in this one. slight mean carmen still, slight angry carmen still. language. dad!carmen x mom!reader. no resolution but the make up is in the next and final part! still heavy so read at your own discretion! word count- 4.8k+

Fak twisted his hands, nervously watching Carmen pace back and forth furiously. One hand running through his hair, tangled and matted from the continued motion; the other lifting and pulling the cigarette to and from his lips. Fak wasn’t sure how Carmen wasn’t sick yet. He’d never seen him smoke so much, seen anyone smoke so much. 

“Neil, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ anymore, ok? You’re startin’ to really, really fuckin’ piss me off.” Carmen’s jaw ground tight, voice starting to growl with that gravelly warning shake that had Fak flinching. “You better tell me where you put my fuckin’ car keys, alright? I-I’m not sitting here, ok? I’m not gonna sit around wi-with my fuckin’ thumb up my ass like a jagoff while my wife and kid are a-at fuckin’ Sugar and Pete’s!” 

“Carmy,” Fak tried to keep his voice calm and firm, like Sugar and Richie had coached him to, hyping him up before he entered the house. “I can’t give you your keys right now, becaus-” 

“-Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Carmen roared, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. 

Fak didn’t think he’d ever say it, but he missed the sad Carmen from before. When he’d been sent to check on Carmen and Richie, to find out where the hell they were before Sydney had a meltdown in the kitchen, only to find a nearly hyperventilating Carmen and an unsure and frantic Richie trying to calm him. Fak had known Carmen a long time, his whole life, really, and never once had he seen him so… so sad. 

That sadness was long gone now. In its wake, an anger, worse than before, than he’d ever seen or could have imagined. Fak had just tried to comfort Carmen, offer up some encouragement that you and Teddy and Anchovy were all ok, taken care of- at Pete and Sugar’s. He didn’t realize how that would flip the switch, how it would infuriate Carmen. 

“I-I’m Fak.” Fak blinked, nervously. “You know me. I’m your friend, Carm, and I-I’m just trying to help you-” 

“-You’re trying to help me? You’re trying to fuckin’ help me by keepin’ me away from my wife?” Carmen’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of the house. 

Even in his loud rage, the house seemed too quiet, too still. There was no baby TV show on, no hum of the diffusers, or Anchovy’s small purrs and chirps. Carmen missed him, missed him jumping on the counters just to piss him off. He missed you defending him, missed how Anchovy would startle and run anytime Teddy would gurgle or whine. 

God, he missed Teddy. He spent the first night in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, staring blankly ahead, wishing he had the small screaming bundle to rock to sleep. 

Carmen couldn’t bring himself to go into the bedroom. Not again. Not after he found your ring laying there. He’d scared Richie so badly with his cries that Richie had enforced the ‘Mikey Prevention Plan’, his twisted humor of a way at keeping Carmen from being alone, from hurting himself in his misery. 

“Carm, I-I can’t.” Fak stuttered, looking at the door, begging Richie or anyone, really, to walk through the door. “You know I can’t.” 

“This is fucked up, Neil. You know that? You know how fucked up this is? Keepin’ me from-from Teddy? From my kid?” Carmen took a long drag of the cigarette, smoke blowing out of his nose with his panicked breathing. His hands still shook, everything was still shaky and rattling with uneasiness inside him. 

“Carm, I- Don’t say that.” Fak shook his head, he could feel himself caving. Carmen could too. 

“You’re keepin’ me from her, Fak. You know that? You know you-you’re keepin’ me from my daughter? My baby? Don’t you-you know how fucked up that is?” Carmen shook his head, lips pursing in disgust. “You’re lettin’ Richie boss you around like he always does, an-and you know, you know deep down that this is wrong. Keepin’ me from them is wrong.” 

Fak hesitated, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Richie said-” 

“-Richie can get fucked. Ric-Richie doesn’t know shit! He doesn’t know shit, you know he doesn’t know shit, a-and you’re lettin’ him tell you what to do? Richie?” Carmen scoffed, throwing his hands out. “The fuck does Richie know, huh? H-He’s divorced, an-an-and barely sees his kid-” 

“-Hey!-” Fak’s eyes widened in shock. “Carmen, you don’t-” 

“-Is that what you want? You want me to end up alone?” Carmen’s eyes are wild, crazed, but he goes still. “Y-You want me to end up like-like Richie? Li-Li-Like that?” 

Fak swallows, both standing in the thick, tension filled silence. “Carmen, I-I can’t.” Fak shook his head slowly. “I don’t… I think you need to, I don’t know, I think you need to calm down before you go see them.” 

“Calm down, you’re tellin’ me to calm down.” Carmen snarled, bitterly scoffing at Fak. “Fuck you. Alright? Fuck you. I will never forgive you for this shit. You hear me? You-You doin’ this to me, keepin’ me from my family. I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you.” 

Fak flinched, Carmen’s words cutting brutally through him with a bitter sting. Carmen stormed off, the front door slamming with a force that sent vibrations through the house. Fak was surprised it didn’t split the wood in two. Walking towards the front window, he saw Carmen storming off, furiously lighting another cigarette, running a hand through his hair, again. Fak assumed he was out of Spirits, that he’d smoked through another pack, walking to the corner store to get more. After thirty minutes, he called Richie, frantic that he’d let Carmen loose. 

“What part of Mikey Prevention Plan don’t you fuckin’ understand?” Richie sneered over the phone, trying to keep his voice low so the new hires didn’t hear. As far as they were concerned, Carmen was on a vacation, only the OGs knew the truth. 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Fak’s voice lilted high, a shrill of nerves that had Richie’s eyes pinching in annoyance. “I thought he was going to the corner store to get more cigarettes, an-and then he didn’t come back for a while-” 

“-What’s a while?” Richie muttered, catching Tina’s eye through the glass. She set her rag down quickly, walking towards him. 

“I dunno… Fifteen, thirty minutes?” Fak mumbled. “Maybe closer to an hour now. B-But then I went to look for him, and he wasn’t there, so I asked the guy working and he said he hadn’t seen him, and-and now I’m driving around trying to find him. I-I’m shouting his name out the window and everything!” 

“He’s not a dog, Neil, he won’t-” Richie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know where he’s at.” 

“You do?” Fak perked up. 

“Yeah, I mean, no, but I-I’m pretty sure I know where he’s at since you fuckin’ told him where they were stayin’.” Richie rolled his eyes bitterly. “Just- Come over here and get me, alright? Let me call Pete- God, you and this fuckin’ kid, got me callin’ Pete. You’re killin’ me Neil Jeff.” 

Richie hung up the phone with a huff, looking up at Tina. “What’s goin’ on? Jeff alright? What’s he doin’?” She pressed. 

“Yeah, Fak-Fak fuckin’ lost him.” Richie rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “But, I think I know where he’s at. Have a pretty good idea, anyways.” 

Tina eyed Richie carefully. “Richie, you know I love that kid, you know I do. But if he’s fuckin’ with Mama,” Tina shook her head, lips pursing in fury. It was no secret how taken she was to you, even before the affectionate nickname that came with the pregnancy. 

“He’s not,” Richie shook his head. “He’s stupid, hot headed, a fuckin’ baby- all that. But… C’mon, T, you and I both know he loves her. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Do somethin’ to himself before that.” 

Tina paused but nodded, face softening. “So, you know where he’s at then? You don’t… You don’t think he’s gonna…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, looking at the picture of Mikey with Richie, Tina, Ebra, and Marcus only a few months before he passed. Carmen had placed it at the front, a reminder of the legacy that was there before him, of The Beef and his brother. 

“No, I hope not.” Richie muttered, looking at his phone’s screen with dread, Pete’s contact on the screen gleaming back at him nearly mockingly. “I think I know where he is.” He sighed, pressing the button. 

Pete could feel his phone buzzing in his pants, ignoring it as he held the front door in a white knuckled grip. He hadn’t expected to see Carmen there, on his Ring camera, knocking on the door softly, softer than he expected given his manic looking state. 

“H-Hey, Carm,” Pete closed the door as casually as he could, only leaving a sliver open. “What, uh, what’s up, man?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Carmen could barely meet his gaze, suddenly overly aware of how disheveled he must have looked. 

“Uh, what-what brings you by?” Pete stuttered, heart picking up when he heard the soft thump behind him, Anchovy lurking behind his legs curiously. He gripped the door, shuffling his legs together, trying to close it on his frame so Anchovy wouldn’t slip by. 

“C’mon,” Carmen sighed, a tired look in his eye, too exhausted to even be pleading. “You know why I’m here, alright. I-I know they’re here.” 

“W-Who is? Sugar? Yeah, she-she’s off today.” Pete stiffened at the claim, swallowing nervously, trying to play it cool. Anchovy meowed loudly behind him, cringing when he was  given away by the cat. 

“Pete, don’t-” Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in slowly, trying to calm the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear Anchovy, hear the sounds of the house- the home. Soft child shows, the hum of the dryer, all the things that made the house feel alive. Carmen would give anything to have his home sound like that again, the silence was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Where is she?” Carmen looks up, his gaze much harder than before, a frantic look beginning to take over his sadness. 

“I, uh, I-I don’t-” Pete stutters, fingers tapping on the wood of the door anxiously. 

“-Pete, I really don’t want you to fuck with me right now, alright?” Carmen takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his emotions that were already beginning to climb in his throat again. “I need to- I-I need to see her, Pete.” Carmen couldn’t bring himself to say your name, sure even the first syllable would have him in tears, breaking down on the front porch. 

Another meow, louder than before, came before Pete could answer. The soft scratching of Anchovy’s paws on the door, a demanding meow that Carmen knew all too well. He’d learned to drown it out, or try to. It became nearly a soundtrack to your sex life when you’d first gotten the cat, locking him out of the room so you two could fuck, only for him to yowl and scratch and demand to be let in. Carmen could remember how you’d giggle, pouting at him exaggeratedly to let him in. His heart fell with an ache that was warm yet still made him feel sick. 

Pete looked down at the cat, then back at Carmen, a hesitant grimace on his face. “Carm… You-You know I would,” He started. Carmen’s heart soared with hope, eyes wide, a near adrenaline rush of excitement shooting through his system. “But…You know I can’t.” 

Carmen’s heart crashed, shattered with the hope he’d finally begun to find, to feel again. “What the fuc- Pete, that’s… Pete, c’mon. C’mon. Yo-You gotta let me in. Let me in.” Anger surged through Carmen’s chest. He closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow it down. All he’d been is angry. For weeks now, it had been a never ending cycle of anger and sickness and distraught, all amplified to new heights the second you left. 

Carmen could feel himself spiraling, ears starting to ring again, rushing and roaring flashbacks flooding into his mind. Your face when you left, Teddy’s cries, the critic’s pursed lips, Sydney’s disappointed face when he forgot something again, Tina’s eyes cutting. Carmen turned, shaking his hand lightly, trying to do a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube, years ago when he’d moved to New York. 

His breaths were deep, shaky, but deep enough that it cleared his head, dulled the ringing. His mind wandered back, Richie’s voice ringing in his head. “You wanna get her back? Quit actin’ like a goddam baby. Quit actin’ like this isn’t your own fuckin’ fault. Like you didn’t do this shit to yourself, Cousin. Take some fuckin’ accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin’ shit together, alright? And maybe-maybe you’ll get your family back.” Richie’s voice rang clear through his mind from a few nights ago, when Carmen was especially mean and awful. 

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Pete hesitated, leaning towards Carmen, his grip on the door loosening. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he turned back towards Pete, eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. “Pete, please? Please?” Carmen begged, voice soft, cracking at the end. “Please, jus-just let me see her? L-Let me talk to her? Just- Let me tell her tha-that I’m sorry. Please… I need to tell her I-I’m sorry. Don’t-” 

“-Carmen?” Sugar gaped, her voice coming from behind Pete. She pulled the door open, shocked gaze dropping into furious, jaw setting in a near snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed. 

“Why do you think I’m here, Natalie? Huh?” Carmen snapped in anger, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Natalie snapped back, pulling the door open and stepping out on the porch. She stood in front of her younger brother, arms crossed in a standoff. 

“Pete, go inside.” Sugar sneered, her gaze not moving from Carmen’s. She felt like they were children again, having a staring contest to see who got the last piece of gum from Donna’s purse, only this time, it was for worse. 

“Nat, I-” 

“-I got it.” Natalie said firmly. Pete didn’t argue with her, simply nodding, shutting the door softly behind them. Her eyes held Carmen’s gaze, both of them intense, furious at the other for other reasons. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself-” 

“-I am-” 

“-Mortified.” Sugar sneered, giving him a disgusted shake of her head. Carmen shifted, biting his own tongue to keep it from lashing out at her. “Do you know what I came home to the other night? You want me to tell you?-” 

“-No, I know-” 

“-No, I’m going to tell you.” Natalie snapped. “I came home after a very long shift because our head chef decided to, oh, I don’t know- disappear and go on a psychotic rampage apparently.” Natalie scoffed sarcastically. 

“And I walk through the door, ready for bed. Maybe a glass of wine, maybe a bath, maybe to finally catch up on my shows with my husband; and you know what I found instead?” Sugar took a step towards Carmen, intimidating him with her harsh glare. “I find my husband taking care of your baby because your wife is sobbing-” 

“-Don’t-” 

“-No, no. I mean, sobbing. A total broken mess on my kitchen table, because she said you,” Sugar jabbed a finger at Carmen. “Decided to come home and scream at her. Not only scream, but say some of the most volatile, disgusting things I’ve ever fucking heard in my life to your wife, the mother of your very much so still a newborn baby.” 

Carmen felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, swallowing back spit that pooled in his mouth with a cry that threatened to fall from his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to look at her gaze anymore. It felt too judgemental, left him feeling too vulnerable and sick of himself under it. 

“So let me ask first; What the fuck is the matter with you?” Natalie sneered. 

“I don’t know.” Carmen’s voice was tight, jaw tighter, fighting a tremble that was threatening to break. “I-I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it-” A single tear fell, slipping out of the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheek- the final crack in his demeanor. 

Carmen tried to fight it, deep breaths that burned his lungs and nose to control the tears, keep him from breaking here on his sister’s porch, but they wouldn’t stop. Carmen wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, after crying for days on end, how he hadn’t shriveled up his tear ducts. Yet here he was, broken sobs slipping out again. 

Sugar didn’t move. Arms still crossed over her chest, lips still fixed in a hard line, watching Carmen with intensity as he broke down, tears flowing in front of her. She didn’t comfort him, not that he expected her to. She didn’t try to give him words of encouragement, advice on how to right the wrongs like the others did. Instead, she kept a furious gaze on him, unmoved by the tears. 

“Please,” Carmen sniffed hard, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Please, Sugar, please. Ju-Just let me see Teddy. Let me se-ee her. Don’t-Don’t do this to me. Don’t ke-ep my kid away from me-” 

“-Me?” Sugar scoffed, pushing her hand into her chest. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t you even start that shit, Carm. I’m not keeping your kid away from you, let’s make that clear.” 

Carmen’s breath hitched when she stepped towards him, toe to toe with him, teeth bared in a grit of anger. “I didn’t take your kid away. You know who did? Hm? You.” Natalie snapped, Carmen flinched at the cruelty of her words. “You did this, Carmen. You did every last bit of this. This is on you. No one else but you.” 

Carmen held in a cry that threatened to break out, face crumbling with tears. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to soothe the burn and hide his distraught. “And you know something else? I know you don’t remember dad very well, but I do, ok? And lately, you’ve been acting just like him.” Sugar’s tone clipped, leaving a burning sting in Carmen’s chest at her words. 

“Yelling just because shit didn’t go your way? Do you know part of the reason mom’s so fucked up? Why everyone takes her side all the time and babies her? Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee? It’s because dad used to berate her, scream at her so badly- say some of the worst shit in the world because he was stressed out, that those guys would feel bad for her.” Sugar ranted. “And I promise you- promise you if I told Uncle Jimmy right now what you said, how I found your wife, he’d agree with me. Maybe even worse.” 

Carmen shifted, his heart squeezing in fear now. Jimmy loved you, always had. He held a special soft spot in his heart for you. Worse was probably right, and truthfully, Carmen would accept it- he deserved it. It wouldn’t be as bad as how he felt right now. 

Natalie held Carmen’s gaze, letting her words sink in. She lifted his hand when he started to talk. “I don’t-I really don’t want to hear it, ok?” Natalie shook her head. “And before you start trying to come up with some excuse-” 

“-I-I’m not-” 

“- I want you to know something. To hear it and really listen to it.” Natalie paused, waiting until his eyes met hers to continue. “I know you’ve been through a lot- We’ve been through a lot. But that doesn’t mean you get to just treat people like shit. That you can act like this and it’s ok.” 

“I know that.” Carmen’s jaw was tight, strangled words croaking out. 

“Then act like it.” Natalie snapped. “It’s not easy, none of this is easy, Carm. I mean… Do you know that every day- every single day, I wake up and something happens that’s shitty or rough, and I think about how easy it would be just to grab a bottle of wine or two. Drink myself unconscious like mom does. Just how easy that would be, how nice it would be just to drown myself out instead of face the issues.” 

“There’s days when MJ or Maggie or-or Pete just drive me fuckin’ nuts, and I want to pull my hair out, or scream, or Pete will do something that just pushes me right over the edge and I just want to rage.” Natalie continued, arms waving dramatically. “I want to throw in the towel, take the easy way out, rage, drink myself silly, scream at all of them until I feel better, but you know what? You know what I don’t do? I don’t do that.” 

Natalie crossed her arms, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t do that to them because I know how that feels.” Her voice cracked, just barely, enough to show the emotion that was hiding underneath. “I know how that felt. I know how that made me feel.” 

Carmen could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, too emotional to be embarrassed. Donna’s many red faced, slurred screaming tyrades came back to his mind. How he’d hide, try and stay quiet and invisible to avoid them. Even as he got older. 

“I know how that fucked me up. How it fucked them up. How it fucked you up, an-and Mikey up. I mean- how it…it fucked our whole life up!” Sugar laughed humorlessly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “I just… When I think about that, and about how it just ruined all of us. That’s the last thing, the very last thing, I’d ever want to do to my kids, to Pete, t-to anyone, really.” 

Carmen nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. His throat burned, scratchy and sore from screaming and crying. His chest was tight, constricting his lungs, stealing his breath. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, maybe something worse, yet, he felt eerily calm in the moment. Still even under the shame and hurt her words brought. He sat on the porch, sure his knees would give out soon, head spinning and dizzy with this damning realization. 

 “You need to make up your mind. Make a decision, right here, right now.” Sugar continued behind him. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was stoic to hide the hurt, hide the emotions. A classic Berzatto deflection trait. “You need to decide what you’re going to do to be better for your family. If you’re going to continue to be a selfish, piece of shit, or if you’re going to change; be better.” 

Carmen’s shoulders shuddered with his next breath, deep but not intentional; like he didn’t even know he did it. Too dazed and deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. “I can tell you,” Sugar stepped towards the door. “It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. It is so hard some days. You have to fight for it every day, fight to break shit that was drilled into you, fight to recognize that some things you do, you don’t even mean to. It takes a lot of work, but… I’d rather fight every single day to be better, to be kinder and softer and more understanding for my family, than to not have them at all.” 

Carmen couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you were so naturally nurturing and sweet. You’d always been like that. You were loving and gentle freely. You’d always been so patient with him. It almost made him feel insecure, inferior, when he thought of it before, but now, he just wanted to return the favor. 

“You decide what you want to do, and then maybe- maybe you’ll get to see them again.” Sugar turned the door knob, pushing it open. “But today? Not a chance. Go get yourself together before you try and do this again.” Carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, harder than he thought it would. Still, he didn’t move from his spot on the porch, head in his hands, deep in thought about his future, his past, everything. 

“There he is!” Fak’s voice was muffled through the car window, slowly pulling to a stop in Sugar and Pete’s driveway. 

Carmen looked up slowly, taking a slow, grounding exhale in, just as Richie and Fak climbed out of the car. “Cousin, thank fuckin’- You better be glad he’s here.” Richie glared at Fak. 

“I am!” Fak chirped defensively. 

Carmen stood slowly, turning one last time to look at the front door. He couldn’t see through the small privacy glass on the door, but he swore he could hear you- hear your voice. Soft and hushed, a little cautious mixing with Sugar’s reassuring one. It took everything in him not to turn and bust the door down, run inside and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He knew that time would come. 

Instead, he walked to the car, sliding in the backseat, ignoring the confused looks Richie and Fak gave each other. “So, uh, did you-” 

“-Don’t ask that.” Richie cut off Fak with a bark of annoyance. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing! I just- I thought we all wanted to know-” 

“-Hey, Cousin,” Carmen muttered, staring blankly at the house. Richie hummed, turning to Carmen carefully. “What’s, uh… You-You said you had someone for me to talk to?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded slowly. “The therapist?” 

Carmen paused, swallowing slowly. “You…You think she’d see me now?” 

“Right now?” Richie lifted a brow. Carmen nodded slowly, still looking past him, eyes glued on the house. He swore he could see a figure move- your figure, peeking through the blinds before ducking back into the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. I can… I can call her. See what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” Carmen twisted his wedding band gently, the car jolting gently as Fak started to back out. 

Fak turned around, looking from the back window to Carmen with a hesitant grimace. “You ok?” He asked, his voice dropped to a low hush with Richie on the phone beside him. 

“No,” Carmen admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, I-I’m not, but… I wanna be.” Carmen looked at Fak, eyes glassy with emotion. “I gotta get my shit together. Gotta do better f-for my family.” 

Fak nodded slowly, pulling out onto the road, slowly shifting the gears back into place. The car began to roll, Carmen watching Sugar and Pete’s house disappear in the rearview. His heart tore, ripped right down the middle and split at the seams knowing he was leaving you, Teddy- his family behind. It took everything, every ounce of strength not to turn around, not to run back. It hurt, but he realized, this is what Sugar was talking about. 

So, Carmen went to the other side of town, to the small building where Richie’s therapist was. His counselor he’d started seeing a while back, when he was on his purpose journey. 

It was weird, weirder than Al-Anon. Carmen felt entirely too vulnerable sitting in that chair, having her stare at him and only him, nodding as he told his ‘story’- it felt weird to call it that. He didn’t want it to be his story, his defining qualities. No, Carmen wanted a new story, a better one with you and Teddy and his family. He’d told Dr. Mullins that. 

“I think that’s a great start, Carmen.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “So, tell me how you’d do that.” 

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands. “I, uh, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “Kinda thought that’s what you were for.” 

“You’re right. I’m here to help you reach that goal, maintain it.” She nodded. “But in order to do that, I need to know a little more.” 

“Like what?” Carmen muttered. “I don’t really remember my dad and all the bad shi-stuff he’d do.” 

“You said you didn’t want that to define you, so let’s not talk about that.” She shook her head softly. “Let’s focus on what you want. What kind of life you’d want to live with your family.” 

Carmen’s knee bounced, taking a shaky breath. “I… I don’t want to lose control.” He admitted. “I don’t want t-to scream, and say shit I don’t mean, and-and to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to do that again.” 

“Good.” Dr. Mullins nodded slowly. “Let’s start there.” 

[tomsparkyr]

having a baby with joao felix!! dad! joao headcanons!)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: a headcanon of what having a baby boy with joao would be like!

thank you for the request love this !! keep those reqs comin' xxx

joao felix x fem!reader

dad!joao felix headcanon

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starting with how joao got you pregnant!

it was definitely after he scored for barca against atletico madrid

the celebrations went hard ok

after the game he went home to you and kissed you like you were the only person on this world

and this was translated into the bedroom

then a couple weeks after that day you started to feel unwell

and after a handful of times where joao was holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you spilled your guts into the toilet, you two took the responsible route and bought a pregnancy test

you took the test when joao wasn’t home and was on an away game so you were extremely nervous

sitting for 2 minutes in an empty apartment without hearing joao’s loud tiktoks on his phone made your stomach twist

you had facetimed him while you waited for the results and his barca teammates peered over his shoulder and watched you wait in the bathroom, pacing up and down

“name the child fermin!” “shut up!”

when the test came back positive you genuinely screamed

you turned the camera around and showed joao the positive test, you couldn’t see much but from the loud cheers and the sound of the phone being dropped, you assumed him and his teammates were over the moon excited

if you listened careful, you could hear them all chanting joao’s name and his joyful laughter in the background

and now let's fast-forward to when he’s home from the away game

he didn’t even drop his bags before he ran towards you

you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist as he kissed all over your face

“i love you, i love you, i love you”

he brushed the hair out of your face and stroked his hand over your cheeks, blushing and a wide smile

joao had never felt this happy in his entire life

before the two of you even prepped the house you realised the pair of you would be moving to london for joao’s football career

barca were devastated to lose the mini felix on the way but they compensated for it with tiny barcelona kits with ‘felix’ on the back and teddies covered in the clubs jersey

joao couldn’t stop pacing when the two of you went for a scan, he was nervous understandably

but all his nerves washed away when he saw the little version of you two growing in your stomach

he would lie to his friends and say he didn’t cry but he sobbed out loud the first time he saw his little baby, even in a black and white, fetus form

and when he found out you were carrying his little baby boy…

oh boy, the waterworks got worse

he hugged your little bump and kissed it every night, whispering sweet nothings to you and promising his little boy that he would give him the absolute world

“i know you’ll love your mama, but listen i was here first” “joao, are you kidding me?”

every time he felt his baby kick inside your stomach, he swore he felt his heart get bigger

how lucky could he be to grow a perfect family with you

when the kicks got more frequent he was convinced his baby would be the next starboy at any club ever

“baby, he’s gonna be a striker!” 

“did you feel that? that’s a proper defensive block, babe!”

“that’s an enzo fernandez move, i need to call him! need to get my boy training with him!”

anyways 

the first time he scored after you were pregnant, he dedicated his goal to you

he took the ball and stuffed it underneath his jersey, put his thumb in his mouth and pointed to where you were sitting in the crowd

hear me out but the fan edits went wild for this one

when the pair of you moved to london, you were in your third trimester and begging your baby boy to get out of you

you couldn’t attend any of his games because you were far too pregnant, he missed you but pampered you when he got home

“i’m so sorry baby, i’ll tell the boys i can’t be there next game. gotta look after future-mama” he sighed before kissing you sweetly on the lips

mini felix was born 2 days after he told you this and joao had never stared at a more beautiful sight

you cradling your perfect baby boy after a long labour, eyes soft and sweat stuck to your forehead

when you handed your baby to joao, he felt like the entire world slowed down

mini felix was a spitting image of the two of you, he had his dad’s beautiful nose and his mama’s eyes

“i love his so much, i’m gonna take such good care of you” he whispered, kissing his baby boys head

when you had fallen asleep in the hospital room, joao had taken his shirt off and placed his baby against his bare chest, a smile never washing away from his face as he ran a gentle finger up and down his child’s back

fast-forward to a couple months later and your baby boy was babbling nonsense and laughing innocently as his dad running up and down the training pitch

you put your child into a puffy blue coat and matching trainers, and tiny grey joggers covering his gentle skin

you had taken him to visit joao on an open training day, his thick brunette hair just like his fathers moving with the wind

the chelsea players had waved and gently high-fived your baby as they walked past, enzo fernandez and pedro neto even booping his little nose as he greeted the familiar faces with a toothless smile

joao kept getting in trouble with the gaffer as his concentration was elsewhere towards his beautiful family a few feet away

the gaffer let him leave training early under the condition that he was introduced to the sweet little family that kept drawing soft eyes from all the players he was working with

you took your child to every single chelsea game you could, sitting in the hospitality suite with all the other wags as your child clapped his hands when the announcer called out his fathers name

every time joao scored he would point over to the pair of you, making heart hands and drawing out the initial of your baby boy’s name and winking at the cameras

you couldn’t be more in love with him

dad joao felix who would play aeroplane with his boy, swinging his back and forth as his sweet giggles got louder

the first thing joao bought for your baby would definitely be a chelsea kit, his name and number plasted on it, and matched football boots

“you’re gonna be in the chelsea team in no time”

joao would show off his kid everywhere he went, if a fan spotted him in the streets and he was holding his child, he would talk their ears off about how lucky he is about his little family (all the fan wanted was a photo)

his camera roll would practically become a shrine for his child, and his lockscreen would be you holding his little baby

and at the rate joao keeps scoring in the conference league games, mini felix number two wasn’t too far away…

hope you liked! ps. i might add more as more ideas come to my head xxxx

[thesweetnessofspring]

Can you also write how Haymitch must have felt when Peeta strangled katniss???? Pleaseeeee i love u forever

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

The old song echoes in my mind as the adrenaline drains from me and I'm left with one kid sedated and the other in a neck brace.

It plays over in my head and I hate myself for not catching it. For not knowing Snow would be up to something, for believing it could be so easy. For thinking I'd ever get to keep my kids.

Doctors take over both of them, poking with needles and prodding with fingers and drawing blood and flashing lights in their eyes. I can't stand to watch them work on Peeta: bruised, frail, and so entirely unlike the boy who I last hugged six weeks ago.

Did we even get him back?

Old memories, ones I try to forget. There is no alcohol for me to suppress it, so I focus on the news trickling in from both kids.

Undamaged.

Venom.

She'll speak.

Torture.

Back up in no time.

Irreversible.

Beetee explains it, as he's done for over two decades now. Simplifying concepts down so even I can understand. He's the only one I'd trust with knowing what the hell it all means.

Beetee's the one I trust to talk to Katniss. Calm. Logical. Honest. I let him and Plutarch speak, only giving the sunniest answer I can when Prim asks, but Katniss still looks devastated. Plutarch has to put his spin on things and of course makes things worse. Katniss tries to get up and run away, growling and cursing, but her morphling line trips at the spike in her heart rate and knocks her out.

Prim stays, making sure she's comfortable while I shuffle my way back down the hall, where my other kid sleeps strapped to his bed, who knows what nightmares prancing in his mind.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

How I hate those words more than ever. Louella. Wyatt. Lou Lou. Maysilee. Ma. Sid. Lenore Dove.

Peeta.

I look at him, twitching and grimacing in his sleep, kicking against the restraints as he tries to get out of them and away from what's frightening him in the dream.

This is Peeta, I remind myself. And I know just by looking at him, despite the weight loss and wounds, that this is my boy. But when I look at him, I see another of my ghosts. Lou Lou. Also twisted and changed from whoever she'd been before. Frightening at first, but more scared herself than we were of her.

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

Peeta.

Worth keeping, every heartbreaking bit of him. So I'm not letting Snow take him. Not again. Not ever again.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Load!Kirk asking reader to be in an open relationship (mostly to hook up with groupies guilt free), while she’s devastated initially, she then comes out with a plan to avenge herself. At one of parties a few months later (with Kirk totally enjoying himself on tour) he finds her on Slash’s lap with guitar- Slash is teaching her to play and even promises to write her a song. Kirk is mad, but reader reminds him that open relationship works both ways, so she can sleep with whoever she wants too - so he finally understands how much he messed up and apologies?

I hope you like it!❤

Open wounds

“I’ve been thinking,” Kirk said, his tone almost too casual. He leaned against the couch, his guitar resting beside him. “Maybe we should try an open relationship.”

I froze, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “You know, it’d make things easier. No guilt if something happens on tour. And you’d have the same freedom.”

Freedom? That’s what he called it? My stomach twisted as the meaning sank in. I could already picture the groupies—backstage, in hotel rooms, on his lap—laughing and clinking drinks while I sat at home, trying to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.

“You don’t think this is going to hurt me?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

His brow furrowed, like he hadn’t even considered it. “It’s not like I love you any less,” he added quickly, as if that made it better.

The betrayal stung, sharp and hot. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “Fine,” I said, my voice cold.

His face lit up with relief. “Really? Thanks for understanding. You’re amazing.”

I sat there, silent, as he kissed my forehead and disappeared to pack for the tour. The moment the door closed, I let the tears fall.

 

The first few months were agony. Every magazine rack was a minefield. There he was on the glossy covers, headlines like “Kirk Hammett’s Wild Nights on Tour!” and “Metallica Guitarist Spotted With Mystery Blonde!” screaming at me. The photos were worse—his arms around some fan, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It was humiliating. But after weeks of stewing, I came to a decision. If Kirk wanted an open relationship, it worked both ways. I wasn’t going to sit at home playing the fool while he had all the fun. 

The afterparty was packed, smoky, and loud. The energy was electric, the high from the night’s show still buzzing through the room. Kirk was somewhere in the mix, but I wasn’t there for him.

“Here, like this,” Slash murmured, his gravelly voice close to my ear as he adjusted my fingers on his guitar. He was perched on a couch, and I was sitting sideways on his lap, my legs draped casually over his.

“Am I getting it?” I asked, letting my voice sound light and teasing.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said with a grin, his fingers brushing mine as he helped me form the chords. “Maybe I’ll write you a song someday.”

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. That’s when I saw Kirk.

He stood in the doorway, drink in hand, his dark eyes locked on me. His expression shifted—from confusion, to anger, to something more vulnerable.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice sharp as he walked toward us.

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh, hey, Kirk. Didn’t see you there.”

“What’s going on here?”

Slash leaned back, his smirk as relaxed as ever. “Just teaching her a few chords. She’s got talent.”

Kirk’s jaw clenched. “You’re sitting on his lap.”

“And?” I asked, standing up and handing the guitar back to Slash, who gave me a playful wink. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

“That’s not—” he started, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, but it is,” I said, crossing my arms. “You get to hook up with whoever you want, and so do I. Fair is fair, right?”

His face softened as the reality of his choices hit him. For the first time, I saw guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “You didn’t think about how much this would hurt me. About how humiliating it is to see you on magazine covers with some random woman. About how it would feel to be treated like I don’t matter.”

“I was selfish,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought I could handle it. I thought it’d be easy, but... seeing you with someone else—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I hate it. I hate that I made you feel this way. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal, Kirk.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I’ll stop—everything. No more open relationships, no more groupies. I just want you.”

For a moment, I stared at him, my emotions warring inside me. Anger, sadness, and a flicker of hope.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” I said finally, my voice softer. “No more taking me for granted.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes steady on mine. “I’ll prove it to you.”

I gave him a small smile, brushing past him. “Good. Because Slash promised me a song, and I’d hate to miss out.”

As I disappeared back into the crowd, I felt his eyes on me. For the first time in months, Kirk wasn’t the carefree rockstar surrounded by adoring fans—he was just a man who finally understood what he stood to lose.

[littlelambramblings]

Jace's Favourite Word: Fuck

A/N: Hey, y'all :D Wrote this in a day, so sorry if it's a bit rushed.

TW: self harm mentioned!! Continuation of this.

Masterlist

———

“I’m sorry, Jace. I just -  I can’t do this anymore. You’re getting worse and worse.”

Jace jolted up from the coach, “What? What are you even talking about?” August shuffled at the door, “Jace, I’ve noticed the scars on your thighs. You’ve started cutting again. Fuck, I’ve heard you crying in the bathroom.” He moved further into the living room, running a tired hand down his face. “Look, I know how much you miss your family and… And I’m sorry I got in the way. It was selfish.”

“Are - Are you breaking up with me right now?”  Jace felt his mouth shape around the words. They tasted bitter, rough - like sand. 

August pursed his lips, “You deserve more than this, Jace. Go back to your family, apologize, and let’s just forget we ever happened.” 

Hot tears threatened to spill and Jace swallowed them down, feeling them sprout a fire deep inside him like a seed, “No, August. Don’t give me that bullshit.” He paused as a laugh bubbled out, “If you wanna break up, don’t tell me it’s for my benefit. You always do this. You always act like you know best.” 

Jace shot out of his seat, stalking to the front entrance, ignoring the way August followed after him, “Wait, let me drive you at least-!” “No. We’re done. Just like you wanted. What I do is none of your business and you will never see me again,” he hissed, turning back to glare at August. His eyes traced over the face for a final time, savouring the familiarity it gave him, before turning back and walking out the front door.

Jace woke up with a gasp, shooting up, confused when he felt something stop him. He snapped his head side-to-side, scanning his environment. 

It was dark. Dancing like stars in the night, dust floated through the air and his nose itched at the sensation. Jace could smell a faint damp scent from the walls. He laid on a mattress in the middle of the room and he was swaddled like a babe with colourful blankets. He rangled his hands out, clutching his throat. 

That… That freak knocked him out! Jace had to get out of here before Theodore came down for him. 

Jace coughed. Once, twice then winced at the aftermath. 

Stumbling off of the mattress, Jace headed towards the outline of a door, carefully maneuvering around the dusty stairs. Pressing his head against the door, he waited for a hint of motion. When he was met with silence, he tentatively reached for the handle and twisted it open. 

His heart dropped at the sight of Theodore in the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee. 

“Oh, I was wondering when you’d wake up,” Theodore smiled as he tried to take a step forward. 

“Stay away from me, you sicko,” Jace hissed, his voice cracking.

Theodore paused, raising his hands up in surrender, “My bad.” He took a step back, motioning at a chair, “Have a seat. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” “Questions?” Jace raged with a laugh, “Yeah, sure. First of all, fuck you and second of all, fuck you!”

Theodore hesitated, “That was not a question… You do know what a question is, right?”

Jace groaned at the look of genuine worry over Theodore’s face, “I’m leaving.” He stomped to the front entrance and pulled the handle down. Only this time the door didn’t open. Hell, it didn’t even budge when Jace slammed his body into it!

Huffing, Jace turned around and went back to the kitchen, looking at Theodore’s smug, extremely punchable face. He picked up a chair and chucked it at the nearest window, devastated as the chair simply bounced back instead of breaking the window. Theodore raised an eyebrow, “You finished with your little tantrum? See? That's a question.”

Jace panted, simply staring at the chair which was now laying on the floor, “What the fuck…” He muttered. What is he supposed to do now? He couldn't fight and win against Theodore physically! Fighting Theodore is what got him into this situation in the first place! “Jace,” Theodore warned, his eyes flashing darkly, “Sit down. We need to talk.”  

Flinching at the look, Jace moved to sit.

Theodore smiled in approval, “Good. Now, I know things got pretty heated last night and I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for putting my hands on you. That was probably a very scary situation for you to be in. I don’t like hurting you and I won’t hurt you ever again.”

“That’s great,” Jace muttered, playing with his sleeves, “So, can I go now?” Theodore continued, “That brings me to the next part. I’m keeping yo- No, Jace, sit down.” 

“What the fuck? What the fuck??” Jace rambled, trying to jolt up from his chair, only to be held down by a thick hand on his shoulder.

Theodore grabbed him, pulling him to sit in his lap, “Shhh, you’re okay. I just want to set some ground rules and expectations. Number one, no fighting me. Two, no running away.” Theodore bounced Jace up and down on his lap, unknowingly overwhelming him. “Three, no more cursing please. Those are the main ones and as long as you follow them, we won’t have any problems here.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jace cried, hyperventilating “I already apologized for trying to rob you.”

Theodore laughed, “Baby, this isn’t a punishment. You need a parental figure in your life and I am more than qualified. What kind of man would I be if I let you rot on the streets?”

“No, no, I want to go please,” Jace pleaded and the sight of the sweet tears in his eyes stabbed into Theodore’s heart. 

He didn’t want to hurt Jace. Why couldn’t he see it more reasonably? This was better for the both of them!

Jace snapped, ‘You can’t keep me like this! I’m a fucking person, not some stray mutt you can pick off the street and do as you please!”

“Jace,” Theodore warned, “strike one.”

Jace scoffed, “What am I? A child? Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, fuck fuck!” Theodore’s jaw clenched and his grip tightened around the boy in his grasp. He picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck and marched him back downstairs to the basement. Jace gasped and struggled, but was quickly stopped by a thick hand wrapped around his throat, not yet squeezing but threatening to. He settled Jace down on the mattress, “You need some time-out. I’ll be checking in on you soon. Think of your behavior.” With that Theodore turned on his heel and left Jace downstairs all by himself. Jace heard the unmistakable sound of a door locking as he was trapped in the dark.

Curling in on himself, Jace flopped down on the mattress. He pressed a hand to his heart, feeling the rapid beat. His eyes swirled with tears.  

If only he hadn’t jumped Theodore…

Continued here.

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername

[pocket-jack]

"Supernova trio stranded on the wild island"

Law: Alright. We need to find water source first. Then build a camp nearby, but not too close to avoid the mosquito attack. Then we should check surroundings for food. Our best course of actions is to look for bird nests and eat the eggs in them. Do not eat any berry, they might be poisonous, and under any circumstances DO NOT eat the meat without thermic processing first. Am I being clea-...

Kid and Luffy who's sit on top of freshly killed bear and eating its meat while fully covered in blood: Huh? Why can't we eat raw meat??

Law: ARE FUCKING SHITTIN ME RIGHT NOW-

________________

I hc that Kid and Luffy have pretty similar childhood.

Kid was a feral child, but instead of having home to sleep or people to care about him, he had nothing, but himself. He also considers Killer his brother or just something like a brother. Perhaps he didn't even knew what the brother/sister/father/mother was, so he just figured that Killer is something that Kid don't want kill.

Killer wasn't a feral child from his birth like Kid was, but instead was left alone on the island by his parents. He knew a lot and was hanging out with Kid to not feel lonely and in danger all the time. Of course, wild life got him twisted too, but he's still pretty intelligent.

They grow protective of each other, hanging out, playing and fighting with the others.

I headcanon that their home was more of the trash island than the solid ground. There was enough of garbage to freely stand on it, but you could sometimes sink deep inside the trashy deep seas.

Killer just noticed that Kid loved doing stuff with the garbage, so he scavenged some engineering book and gifted to Kid. He went "The fuck's a book?", "It's a tones of paper glued together with words, that contains information. This one contains information about engineering", " The fuck's words???". They had to go... Through a lot of explanations Killer's childish brain could come up with. But Kid liked the gift when he understood what he was reading. He actually build a toy robot and was so happy about it. He decided to give it to Killer as a thank you present.

Then they met Victoria who became "a girl they don't want to kill so she can hang with them", and yes, Killer thought of them like siblings.

They kicked some asses, made friendships and alliances, had adventures and made promises to become pirates together.

And then Victoria dies. But unlike Sabo she dies for real. And Kid is devastated. Firstly, because he never thought that someone's death could make him feel so bad (and there were a lot of people and animals dying in here), and secondly, because he loved her dearly. And Killer as the most level-headed person in here (also really devastated, but had to remain calm, because Kid needed him) just stayed there trying to snap him out of it, but the only thing that Kid heard was a fainted "Kid!.. Kid?.. Kid. Don't look at her. Look at me. Look. At. Me. Calm down. I'm here. Please, just calm down. Please". When Kid finally looked at him he just saw how fucking scared and panicked and dirty and wet and bloody his friend was, and it just snapped him out of it.

Kid just brought together the other gang's and defeated the biggest and most dangerous gang in the whole island. I like to believe that after that he couldn't even look at Killer's face again, because the only thing he saw was his face that night. Killer was devastated and hurting much more. He was much intelligent and smart and clearly understood some things better than Kid did, and that's why Kid thought that something that Killer was going through was much worse than he had it. And Kid swore to become much stronger to never see that expression on Killer's face again. And Killer just understood that Kid would never look at his face as usual again, so he just covered it with mask, to make it easier for Kid to look him in the eyes, even if it was just holes.

I like to think that Kid, just like Law, sees Victoria in Luffy: the energetic, stubborn and freedom loving. At first he showed some interest in him, but then just made some parallels, and only then grew much more angry at Luffy for the things none of them couldn't control.

Ouch, that went too far into the angst from the funny silly feral boys doing funny silly feral stuff when their unferal and depressed boyfriend just being angry at them for breaking a lot of sanitary norms.

[jollyhunter]

Hello! I have an idea for a bot and was wondering if you would possibly be interested in making it? I was thinking that the user is from the apocalypse world and when everyone in the apocalypse world comes through the portal to sam and dean’s world, the user is having a really hard time adjusting to the new environment. They’re either rebellious because of struggles adjusting or super sad, or really anything that shows how much they are struggling to adjust through their behaviors. Either way, Dean realizes their struggle and is being patient with them. It doesn’t have to be romantic

Hi dear! First off, sorry for taking this long, everything's been stacking up in my drafts. 🥲

Now; This is such a good prompt!! I hope you'll enjoy what I made of it and do let me know what you think <3

J/NOTE: Not gonna lie, since I haven't watched season 12 yet, writing the stories and background info for this felt like walking on a tightrope LOL (Beneath me a ball pit of spoilers and devastation). I just read the descriptions about the Apocalypse World to get a better idea of what's going on and then bolted, before I could get any more spoiled. 😂 But I always enjoy the challenge to fit a story prompt into - *glares at c.ai* - 2048 characters.

AIGHT here we go:

I LOVE Apocalypse Worlds and I couldn't decide for just one theme (and I’ve got a thing for angst), soooo I went and wrote two different intros and ended up with two bots;

Broken Spirit focuses on the user feeling out of place, sorrow, beginning of potential depression and Dean trying to save them from spiraling into the same kind of emotional void that he secretly feels.

Scorched Soul focuses on the user being unpredictably hostile due to severe PTSD, trauma and their survival instincts kicking in and Dean struggling to reintegrate them into a 'normal' life, while he's secretly terrified that they'll end up like him.

↓ INTROS ↓

-> 💔 Broken Spirit Dean x ApocalypseWorld!User [gen!neutral]

Themes: Feeling out of place / Sadness / Trauma, Angst, Comfort, Platonic

⚝ INTRO

The fact that you'd just disappeared, doesn't sit right with Dean.

It's not the first time since you'd fled from the Apocalypse World and were taken in by the boys that you'd just vanished. Sometimes you'd just sneak off, or lock yourself for hours into the bedroom they gave you.

But this time it's been two goddamn days.

They took the entire bunker apart, afraid you might have gotten yourself locked up somewhere. Or worse. They called every motel, checked the bars, sent Cas on a rescue mission to find you and Sam even listened to the police radio 24/7 just in case.

Nothing. It's like the ground just swallowed you whole. Like you didn't want to be found. And that's what made Dean's stomach twist in knots. He grabs the car keys and tells Sam to check the hospitals while he'll search the surrounding area again.

He speeds down the road, his jaw clenched, focus bouncing back and forth between all sorts of What if's - What if you did something stupid?

Sure, he didn't know you for that long yet, but he could see the signs. How you struggled with this world. How it ate you up from the inside. And how you'd been silent a lot and crying when you thought they didn't notice.

They did. More often than you'd think. Sam wanted to talk to you but you'd evaded him every time and he wanted to give you some time and space. Dean on the other hand watched you crumble in silence from the sidelines. Seeing you drown right in front of him and not being able to help you, gnawed at his insides. Because he knows what it feels like when you've been through hell. And he knows all too well what it does to your soul. Broken, shredded, poisoned beyond recognition.

Dean suddenly hits the brakes and Baby skids to a halt; he could swear he'd just seen something between the trees.

And sure enough, there you sit. Slumped against a trunk, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried between them.

"There you are." He snaps, his frustration taking over now, "Why the hell did you run off? Sam and I've been lookin' everywhere for you!"

-> 🔥 Scorched Soul Dean x ApocalypseWorld!User [gen!neutral]

Themes: PTSD / Hostility / Trauma, Angst, Comfort, Platonic

⚝ INTRO

Dean rounds a grocery shelf while his gaze keeps flickering back to you. Ever since you and the others fled the Apocalypse world and came through that portal a few days ago, he hasn't let you out of his sight.

“Why don't you get us some salt?” He calls out to you. Even though he's not exactly the best at this whole thing called ‘normal’ life, he tries nonetheless.

His attention jumps back to you as he notices a quick movement of your hand behind your back. “Goddamnit- Whoa- whoa-” He grabs your wrist just before you can get the hidden knife out from under your jacket.

"There's no need for that, sweetheart." He says with a fake smile aimed at the woman in front of you. She shoots you both a questioning look, then picks the packet of salt and drops it into her shopper trolley.

You stare at her daggers, she flinches.

"She's just… hangry," Dean forces a chuckle, trying to keep his cool under her pointed gaze. "C'mon, let's get you a Snickers." Once you've been shoved behind the shelf, Dean grabs both your shoulders and spins you around to face him. “What the hell was that?”

You’re about to open your mouth to point out that that was the last packet of salt - but Dean already knew that.

“I don’t need the damn salt. What I need, is you to act like a normal human being for five goddamn minutes without going Daryl Dixon on me.” He says in a low, tight voice, like a mom hissing at her child. But when you twitch and avert your eyes like a beaten dog, his hands slip off your shoulders.

Dean takes a moment to calm himself, closes his eyes and rubs his face.

He's still trying to figure out what your triggers are. But it's hard. One minute you're ready to stab a granny over the last chocolate bar, and the next you're on the verge of a panic attack.

You have severe PTSD. Dean tells himself for the 10th time today and sighs.

"Listen, sweetheart… She's no threat." He calmly repeats the words he's been saying like a mantra the past days. "But you can't just go poking holes into people. You understand that, right?"

[drainslo]

Chishiya x Reader AU -- player x citizen angst (One-Shot)

In which things aren’t as they seem.

In retrospect, getting involved with a player when I was a citizen wasn’t a great idea. Let’s be honest, it was one of the worst things I could’ve done. 

I had infiltrated the Beach together with Mira and Kuzuryu, and we posed as executives. Obviously I was given a speciality of diamonds.

When they found out what I did. Mira was simply fascinated by the monster I was, and Kuzuryu treated me coldly. 

Don’t you think you’re going too far, have you no heart? Kuzuryu had jeered, infuriated by my selfishness. What was worse instead was how delighted Mira was.

But I couldn’t help it, my feelings. There was no rationality or logic behind it. I felt like a goody clubs player giving in to the power of friendship and love.  Or even worse, I irrationally felt like a manipulative hearts player that forced him into loving me even when it was reciprocated. I had to swallow the feeling of nausea that arose from my deception when I was around him.

Ironically, I didn’t know he felt the same. My player had thrown another under the bus to steal the cards from the Beach and he desperately hid it from me for some reason. I guess he understandably didn’t want me to see the monster that he thought he was.

It was funny how similar we were. Player and citizen: two sides of the same twisted coin.

I spotted him running towards my room when the 10 of hearts was announced. I didn’t have time to say goodbye to him properly since I had to prepare my venue for the next round of games. I couldn’t even leave a note, because of the possibility that counted to admitting being a citizen. 

My player was clever, though. I think he at least suspected something was off with me. He once lazily commented that Kuzuryu gave off a kingly aura. He wickedly stared at me when he said so, and I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me.

“I suppose,” I had responded carefully, and that was enough for Chishiya.

And now Kuzuryu, Mira, and I had disappeared after the 10 of hearts. Mira happily volunteered to be the next one to announce the games. So with all his intelligence, Chishiya definitely knew that I was a citizen. He probably even knew I was the Queen of Diamonds.

There were days of maintenance between the first and second wave of games and I begged the other citizens to let me go to him. They all refused, saying that I would get lasered and there was currently nobody else to run a diamonds game in my place.

So I waited in my venue for him to come. There was no way he wouldn’t; I knew of his fascination with diamonds games. I focused on beating players in my game, a human version of chess that was inspired from one of the Harry Potter books. 

I played the queen, and could direct other pieces around the board. If I was captured, or was checkmated it was my game over. Players each had to become a piece, and had to direct each other or the remaining pieces in an attempt to win. I could kill players throughout the game by capturing them, or more quickly, everyone would lose if I checkmated the king.

I ran one game a day, and usually they lasted around 30 minutes at most. My chess hobby and love of Harry Potter growing up finally proved useful, despite how morbid they now were.

Throughout the week, I checked the blimps every night. Kyuma, the King of Clubs, had fallen on the first night of the games, and the Jack fell on the fourth night. I didn’t know who was running the Jack game, but Kyuma’s death was devastating to see. He was so lively and vivacious despite being a game-master. He made me feel less guilty about my relationship with Chishiya unlike the other King.

“You only live once! So why not live freely? If your love is genuine, then that’s all that should matter” Kyuma had told me. It made me feel marginally better, even though this came from a guy who flocked around naked.

Enji, Jack of Hearts, had fallen by day 6. Unlike Kyuma, his death was in no way a tragedy. His creepy hypnosis had always made me feel uncomfortable, and I secretly hoped all along that players would kill him in this stage. 

Strangely enough, only the Queen of Spades had fallen the seventh night. I was surprised to see the lack of diamonds games that fell. Knowing Chishiya, I assumed he would immediately set out to clear them first.

Unless something stopped him from doing so, likely the King of Spades. Isao was too good at being a roamer, and he often drove players into game venues they never would’ve stepped foot into otherwise.

The eighth night, the Jack of Diamonds toppled. I heard the blimp fall in the middle of my game and I rushed outside to confirm once I killed all the players. Where Amon’s Jack once proudly flew, there was now only the clear blue sky.

Chishiya’s coming.

My heart fluttered at the thought of seeing my Chishiya again, but I knew what the cost of it would be. I wasn’t sure if I was willing to give up my life for his as a citizen, but I was less sure that I could live with myself if he died because of me.

On the ninth night, I opened my venue for the daily challenge. Unsurprisingly, An, one of the former Beach executives with a diamonds speciality, was waiting outside with a group of her allies behind her. There were 7 of them in total, but no Chishiya.

They walked onto the life-sized chessboard where I was standing, waiting expectedly for me to begin the game.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Chishiya wasn’t there.

“So, is that everyone? Are we ready to start?” I asked, prepared to close the venue.

Then the entrance opened, and I breathlessly watched Chishiya walk in. He stepped onto the board besides An, unsurprised when he saw me.

Now it’s everyone.

I gazed at him, trying to read what was going through his mind. He quirked his lip into a vague smile but didn’t say anything. I wanted to tell him everything, but my duties as a citizen had to come first.

“I’m going to start the game.” I flicked my hand towards the giant projection screen I had placed in my venue and an automated voice read familiar rules.

[GAME]

‘CHESS’

TIME LIMIT: NONE

WEAPONS NOT ALLOWED

RULES:

THE GAME IS CHESS. IF ONE SIDE VIOLATES THE STANDARD CHESS RULES,  IT IS GAME OVER.

PLAYERS ARE PLAYING BLACK, AND THE QUEEN IS  PLAYING WHITE.

 PLAYERS MUST PICK A PIECE ON THE BLACK SIDE TO TAKE THE ROLE OF. THE QUEEN WILL PLAY THE QUEEN ON THE WHITE SIDE.

THERE WILL BE 90 SECONDS FOR EACH SIDE TO MAKE A MOVE.

TO MAKE A MOVE, ONE PLAYER HAS TO DICTATE WHICH PIECE IS MOVING AND WHERE ALOUD. IF THE PIECE THAT IS MOVING IS A PLAYER, THEY CAN WALK TO THAT PLACE. IF IT IS NOT A PLAYER, THE HOLOGRAPH WILL SIMULATE THE PIECES MOVING.

PLAYERS WILL ACHIEVE GAME CLEAR IF THEY CAPTURE THE QUEEN, OR CHECKMATE HER SIDE.

PLAYERS WILL INDIVIDUALLY RECEIVE A GAME OVER IF THE QUEEN’S SIDE CAPTURES THE PIECE THEY TAKE THE ROLE OF. ALL PLAYERS WILL RECEIVE A GAME OVER IF THEIR SIDE IS CHECKMATED.

PLAYERS MAY NOT LEAVE THEIR CHESS POSITION IF IT’S NOT THEIR TURN. IF THEY STEP OFF IT’S GAME OVER.

THIS SCREEN WILL SHOW THE TIMER FOR EACH SIDE TO MAKE A MOVE. THE GAME ITSELF CAN GO ON AS LONG AS NECESSARY.

“So you’re running wizard’s chess.” Chishiya commented faintly amused, clearly remembering when I shared my Harry Potter filled childhood with him.

“Unfortunately, I am,” I replied.

An positioned herself as the queen, instructing other players to take the roles of the back row chess pieces. Chishiya volunteered himself as the knight, and the game began.

An was primarily leading the charge against me, and she occasionally conferred with Chishiya throughout the game. By mid-game, I was 2 pieces up and in a strong winning position, having taken several pawns and killed one of white’s rooks..

When the rook player died, An exasperatedly turned to Chishiya next to her and venomously uttered, “I wasn’t expecting your girlfriend to turn out to be a sadistic citizen.”

It was the most emotion I’d seen from An. I hesitantly glanced over at Chishiya, who didn’t  verbally affirm An, but he didn’t defend me either. I didn’t expect his silence to hurt more than if he said anything. Logically I should’ve been happy that he didn’t agree with her, but I wanted to hear him say something, anything about my being a citizen. 

Chishiya instead leaned in towards An and whispered something into her ear that I couldn’t hear. She looked over at me, then back at Chishiya and nodded.

Chishiya walked over to the square in front of me, following an L-shaped pattern as a knight. 

My knight, except without the shining armor. 

“What are you doing? Do you have a death wish?” I hissed at him.

“You can’t step forward,” Chishiya calmly said, and gestured to the player-bishop behind him. As I drew my gaze to the bishop, I realized he was right. If I stepped forward, it would put my king into checkmate.

I quickly surveyed the next move I could make. I decided on pushing a pawn forward to threaten the bishop.

“You have,” I glanced at the clock. “60 seconds before I make my move.”

“I think you have much more to say than I do~” Chishiya’s voice had a melodic tone.

The clock read 45 seconds. That wasn’t nearly enough time to profess how I felt for him. To me, he was my everything. And my legs almost shook as we were now directly face-to-face, and it hit me that I wasn’t going to be the one walking out of here alive.

“Where do I begin?” I laughed. “I’m sorry for not telling you that I was someone who ran the games that were trying to kill you. I’m sorry, for our relationship, I wasn’t planning on it. I wanted to set the record straight that I never deceived you along the way. Everything between us was true.”

“I wasn’t going to accuse you of deceiving me,” Chishiya said slowly. 30 seconds “I have a lot of respect for you and Kuzuryu. Your games were interesting. Did you design the 6 of diamonds?”

I nodded. “I saw that was your first game. I was watching, and I was impressed that you made it out without knowing the rules.”

“What did you feel when you first saw me?” Chishiya’s voice had its unmistakable lilt when changing the topic abruptly. “Did you see me as a player, or a person?” 15 seconds.

“I saw you as a player. But then you became someone who was important to me, and no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, there was only one explanation for how I felt. I love you.” It was the first time I had mentioned the word “love,” to Chishiya. Throughout our relationship, it had always gone unsaid.

I sent the pawn one step forward as the timer hit 5 seconds.

An was silent, and the timer reset to 90 seconds for the player team.

“When I met you, I felt something was off,” Chishiya admitted. “But you were interesting, so I wanted to observe you closer. I had a certain respect for your intellect, see. Yet as we spent more time together I realized what I was missing.”

We were eternities apart, only separated by one square, but we were so close. He leaned in towards me and touched his forehead to mine.

“Years and years of emptiness. Somehow, you looked through the empty shell I was and saw me when I couldn’t even find myself” Chishiya whispered softly.

I placed my hands on the side of his face gently caressing him. He was so familiar. I felt my heart ache since I hadn’t seen him for over a week.

Neither of us acknowledged the quiet tears that slipped out of our eyes.

“You’ll clear the rest of the games. This batch of players is strong. Kuzuryu might be challenging for you. He’s extremely intelligent, but I don’t doubt you. ” I said softly so nobody else heard my voice breaking.

15 seconds.

“(Reader), what happens when we clear the games?” Chishiya tentatively asked.

“You’ll have a choice to make. Don’t make the one I did. I made it for the wrong reasons, and I’ve regretted it every day.” I was begging him not to choose to be a citizen like I did three cycles ago. I thought that being a citizen would grant me a sort of immortality. The opportunity to remain alive as long as I killed players in my games.

With Chishiya, I realized how fruitless this all had been. I wasn’t really living at all.

5 seconds. An still hadn’t said anything, and it was still the player’s turn.

I took a deep breath, my decision made long before I consciously registered it, and stepped off my square. I hugged Chishiya tightly and felt his heart pounding. He was so alive.

He stroked my hair and murmured, “You did the best you could (reader), I love you too. Now rest.” Chishiya then pulled away from my hug and kissed me softly. It was the second to last thing I felt.

The last thing was the brief pierce of a laser through my skull, then all was numb.

[GAME CLEAR]

PLAYER SIDE WINS

[londonspirit]

Our Flag Means Death has just wrapped up its sophomore season, and it’s time to say goodbye to our favorite pirates for, well, at least another year. Streaming service MAX hasn’t renewed the workplace comedy/action-adventure show for a third season, but if the numbers are anything to go by, they would be foolish not to start talking about it.

David Jenkins, the writer/creator and sometime director of Our Flag Means Death, did a finale postmortem interview with io9, and we talk endings, piracy, and how comic actors and serious actors mesh. A quick warning, this interview is literally about the last episode of Our Flag Means Death, and contains spoilers. Proceed with caution.

So, here’s the thing; Jenkins and I have spoken a few times about Our Flag Means Death. He knows that I adore this show. He also knows that I adore Izzy Hands (Con O’Neill), the beleaguered first mate and jilted lover of the central couple of Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) and Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby). He has also been keeping a secret from me for months: In this last episode of season 2, Izzy Hands dies.

“Are you mad at me?” Jenkins asked, almost plaintive as we said our ‘Hello’s under the auspices of the designated MAX PR person. “Oh, well. I’m not really mad at you, but I am disappointed,” I responded. “I think I’m sad at you.” This, he said, is worse.

At the end of the season, Izzy Hands dies in Blackbeard’s arms, giving Blackbeard permission not only to “be himself” but to leave piracy behind for good. It happened in the kind of cruelly random way that people often die in this genre of action/adventure stories. That didn’t make it any easier though. And at the end of the season, Blackbeard’s inability to save Izzy meant that there was simply no more reason for him to be a pirate anymore. Who was he doing it for? What more did he have to prove?

Regardless of the narrative reasons why Izzy Hands died, I was devastated. Did it make sense in the context of the show? Yes. Was it a deeply moving and incredibly well-acted moment? Also yes. Was his death made all the more affective because of how Izzy had been ingratiated, accepted, trusted, and even, at points, loved by his crew? Absolutely. So, of course I teared up a little.

Jenkins looked slightly sad himself, saying that “Ghosts exist in this world.” I told him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. At this point such a comment feels like it was made to make me, personally, feel better. I’m not sure Izzy could make a return at some point, nothing is certain about Our Flag Means Death’s future right now. It almost feels like Jenkins feels bad that he made me sad. I don’t know if he realizes how sad he’s going to make a lot of people.

This isn’t going to be an interview entirely about Izzy Hands, but he’s a big part of it—after all, his death is arguably one of the show’s biggest shocks yet. Looking back at Izzy’s arc over the two seasons, Jenkins said that he doesn’t see Izzy as a pure antagonist in season one because on some level… Izzy was right in his hesitations about Stede. “His boss is falling for this manic pixie dream girl, and he’s got to keep his boss safe because that’s his job,” Jenkins explains. “And then he has to get this ship to operate like a normal ship would operate. And they’re all weirdos. So he’s got the worst middle management position. And on top of that, his boss is a lunatic.”

Towards the end of season one, Izzy does have a turn away from ‘reasonably upset at Blackbeard’ to ‘serious antagonistic force’. But when he gets what he wanted–Blackbeard back to legendary form–it doesn’t really work out. “Be careful what you ask your God for, because you just might get it,” Jenkins warned. “Izzy gets it and it turns on him. That toxic relationship that he wished were all his, becomes all his… he’s crushed by it, and both he and Blackbeard both have to rebuild themselves.”

In Izzy’s case, the rebuilding is quite literal–his leg is amputated and replaced with a wooden prosthetic, carved from the unicorn figurehead of the Revenge. After this, he has to go through a transformation, Jenkins said he has to ask himself “What am I going to do with myself? You know, who am I going to be? After [the crew] makes him the Unicorn leg, I think he kind of sees like, ‘oh, this crew cares for me’. And I don’t think he’s ever felt cared for in that way.”

This season also saw a lot of Izzy interacting with Stede, often in more fun situations than the snipes back and forth in the first season. When asked about how Con O’Neill and Rhys Darby got along on set, Jenkins just laughed. “I really love building a show with really funny actors and then really serious actors. And the funny people are usually scared of the real serious people. And the real serious people are scared of the funny people. They terrify each other.”

For those that might not know, Darby is a stand up comedian and has been in many of Waititi’s darkly comic films. O’Neill, on the other hand, has been taking dramatic roles since his twenties, and has recently appeared in productions like The Batman and Chernobyl. “I think from the beginning people saw Con and were like, ‘Oh, man, I got to be like, really have to be in my game’,” Jenkins said, imitating Taika Waititi’s lilting Kiwi accent. “And then Con was like, ‘Oh, I don’t know what he’s doing, he saying I should just follow along with the improvisations’—” again, imitating O’Neill’s raspy drawl. “And then they’re both so good that by the end of the season they’re not scaring each other as much. But that admiration remains, and I think that was very much true between Rhys and Con.”

The decision to have Izzy die wasn’t one that Jenkins took lightly. “It was hard. It was hard to kill off Izzy. It was hard to tell Con that he was going to die. And he was so lovely about it. But, at the same time, he took it hard,” Jenkins said. “Like this thing we built together is going to die. It’s one thing to write it, it’s another thing to produce it, and to see Con carry that knowledge through the episodes, knowing what was going to happen to that character. Con took it really seriously.”

Jenkins also thinks that Izzy was able to say exactly what he needed to at the end of the show. “I think he gives his own eulogy. It’s about belonging to something. And that we do this for each other, you know? He came to view piracy as a thing we do for one another. And being on a crew is something you do for each other… he gets to a place where he eventually sees that it works because everybody is helping each other. Everybody cares for each other, and there needs to be some structure, but for him, it became less about dominance and more about belonging to something.”

The final shot of the season is actually Izzy’s grave, outside of Ed and Stede’s cottage. “I think him being buried near them is a lovely image,” he said. “And there’s a reason that that happened. I think they both were sad to see their friend go. And I think they’re both thinking, ‘let’s make this work not just for us, but in memory of Izzy’.”

One of the prevalent rumors about Our Flag Means Death this season was that it was originally supposed to be 10 episodes rather than 8. But Jenkins says no; it was always going to be 8. They were looking for ways to cut budget, and moving the production to New Zealand and cutting down the episodes really helped with the bottom line, as well as being better for the cast and crew. “It takes so much to make one episode happen. Every department is strung out by the time you get to the end of the season,” he explained.

“The story of Stede and Blackbeard is a three-season story,” Jenkins said, looking ahead to where the show could go from here. When asked if the ending of season two–Frenchie taking over as Captain of the Revenge, Stede and Ed in a shack on the beach, preparing to open their inn, and Izzy Hands buried in front of their home–was a kind of “safeguard” in case the series didn’t get that third season, Jenkins shrugged. “In a way,” he said. “The first season ends on such a downer, so it made sense to end the second season in a kinder spot.”

But he says that he “still has questions” about what happens next. The Republic of Pirates has been destroyed, Izzy’s killer is still out there, and does Frenchie have what it takes to captain a pirate crew? Our Flag Means Death is not a complete story yet. “I think there’s plenty of story left for season three, but I think that it was important to end this as if it was the end of the show, and on upbeat note and avoid the kind of “kill your gays” trope. I don’t want to see Steve and Ed punished for giving it a go. I want to see them really say, ‘yeah, we’re going to we’re going to try to have a relationship’.”

When asked how he would approach the third season , Jenkins thought about it for a few seconds before answering. “I would very much like to see pirates come to America. Historically, they were in New York City and the Carolinas. And now, in the story, the Republic of Pirates is gone… I think that stories about piracy are a little bit like stories about the West. They’re stories about these things that are going to end inevitably,” he said this sadly, like the inevitability comes from looking back on the past and thinking the present couldn’t come out any other way. It’s a bit of a eulogy. “In some ways, I think then seeing them have to deal with some of these things in a country that’s coming together would be good. And I think it would be a good way to end the season, and see how they adjust to it.”

The final scene with Izzy and Blackbeard is incredibly, desperately sad, and clearly required a lot from both O’Neill and Waititi in the moment. “When Izzy died, I said, ‘Would you like to play music on set?’” Jenkins recalled. “ He went ‘Yeah’. And so I made an Izzy Death playlist and put it on during the takes.”

This is the second time I have been teased with an Our Flag Means Death playlist. The first time was from music supervisor Maggie Phillips after the first season had ended. I had to ask for this playlist, but Jenkins didn’t want to share. He mentioned Carole King, implying that “Bitter with the Sweet” was played. I was not doing well with this information, especially after I put my face in my hands. He tried, once again, to console me but I was lost in my Izzy Hands feelings. Maybe taking the good with the bad was personal advice. Or, more honestly, I just think he felt a little sad too.

[nomoreusername]

The Last Time

Pairing:Teresa x female reader

Summary:After Teresa sees you break she vows it will be the last time it can happen to anyone.

Y/N, hey, Y/N,"I called, kneeling beside her. She had been bitten in the mall so we had been keeping an eye out for something unusual happening. Something like her collapsing on the ground. 

Pulling her head on my lap, I could hardly her heavy and strained breaths. She shut her eyes, but that did nothing to stop the desperate tears that kept streaming down her face. 

"Hey, hey, hey hey. It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine,"I tried to reassure her, but we both knew the words were empty. They did nothing to stop the way her chest was frantically rising and falling asleep her breathing became more and more strained.

"Please,"She quietly begged. Even though we all know what she was asking for none of us knew what to say to it or what the true right thing to do was.

"Don't make me say it,"She pleaded, her voice barely audible.

"Y/N-"

"Just give me the gun!"She demanded.

"I-I can't."

"Give me the shucking gun! Give it to me!"She screamed.

"Maybe there's something we can do. There has to be a way to fix this. We can make you better,"I tried to suggest, stopping my own sobs.

"Teresa, my love, you're smarter than that,"She whispered, her once harsh tone turning into the soft and loving one I was so used to hearing. The one I wanted to hear everyday.

The one I would never hear again.

With shaky hands and a shattered heart I managed to hand it to her. The relief on her face somehow made this so much worse than before.

Because she'd rather be dead than be a monster, than forget herself, and in a sick, twisted way, that could be the right decision.

"Goodbye my love,"She whispered. Before the tears could start flowing I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers. It ended too soon as she pulled away.

"Goodbye,"I uttered as I stood up. She gave me the saddest smile as tears streaked down her once lively face. 

Unable to face her, I was the first to turn away. One by one everyone said their goodbyes before doing the same. 

As we continued the walk filled with silent devastation a gunshot rang though the air. All at once we stopped as a spot that should be hers, right next to me, remained empty. Nobody even seemed to be breathing as what happened become all too real. 

Except, we were. We were alive, and Y/N was dead

I know what I have to do now. I need to make sure this can never happen again. I can't risk losing another person I love to the Flare.

Because nobody should have to feel the way your heart collapses when the person you love, the person that means everything to you, locks eyes with you for the very last time.

[longlivelindsay]

hoax

First, one of my majors was English with a Specialization in Creative Writing. This is NOT going to be a REAL essay. I'm just writing this for fun.

I want to describe both my personal love for hoax and what I believe are objective reasons why it's an incredible, heartbreaking song. I always say that art is subjective -- and it is. Not everybody will like hoax. But I think everybody can appreciate the beauty in it even if they don't like the song itself.

@taylorswift wrote a masterpiece. (On a side note, @taylorswift, please play this masterpiece as a Surprise Song as soon as possible! I livestream every show and am DYING to hear it!) She's written many, and I could easily write this about other songs -- and perhaps I'll use my Tumblr to do so. But as a poet, hoax hits me everywhere it needs to... my heart, my brain, my creativity, and a place deep inside my bones -- a place that ensures the song will never leave me no matter how long I go without listening to it.

First, I have to thank Aaron Dessner for his beautiful melody. The lyrics in the song would not be possible without it. It was perfect for folklore. I believe Taylor said hoax and the 1 were the songs she wrote last -- and I'm grateful she heard this melody and realized how special it was.

As a poet, I use the metaphor of blue a lot to describe an ex, or use the word non-metaphorically to describe my ex or things about him. So it's no shock that my favorite lines are, "Don't want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do." It's something that I was surprised I hadn't personally written yet, to be honest! But, alas, I hadn't. Because it's far better than my poetry which you can find at my blog, we are the poems (@wearethepoem). The lines are succinct, excruciating, and tell us everything we need to know. And if those were the only beautiful lines in the song, along with the melody, it would still be a wonderful song that I'd probably still file along my favorites, but it includes so much more.

We start with hearing about the character's "only one" and a "twisted knife" and "winless fight [that] has frozen [her] ground." So we already know who the "shade of blue" and "only sadness... that would do" is referring to. Clearly, somebody has hurt her deeply in a way that we're yet to know.

She's then "[standing] on the cliffside screaming, "'give [her] a reason.' [His] faithless love's the only hoax [she] believes in." Clearly, she has been devastated and dealt with so much deceit -- probably him lying about his love for her that she wants to believe in it so much she almost does, but knows in her heart that it's not true, and is close to committing suicide over his false love and promises. She even says he uses "sleight of hand," further proving that idea.

The bridge could be either metaphorical or actually true, and I think it's up to the reader to decide. Since I'm looking at this from an autobiographical point of view, which may very well be completely wrong, I'm looking at this from an autobiographical metaphor of her masters being sold. "You know [she] left a part of [her] back in New York. You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath [her] scars from when they pulled [her] apart... But what [he] did was just as dark from when they pulled [her] apart... What you did was just was dark. Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled [her] apart."

Clearly, she trusted somebody she loved not to hurt her, and he did. It was more pain than she went through when she had to leave a part of her -- her masters -- to somebody else, and the hero died and she was pulled apart. What the person she loved did hurt her much worse than anything else.

I think my view of it being about her masters being sold is probably too innocent one, and very possibly not correct. I've seen theories about miscarriages, cheating, and far more that probably make more sense. But since I'm looking at this as an autobiographical point of view, I don't want to start any miscarriage rumors or worse, as I feel that would be inappropriate to do.

However, we know how that Taylor and Joe's relationship was on-and-off. We have no indication that there was ever any cheating, but you can feel like a love is faithless even without any infidelity from your partner. It's important to point out that Taylor often uses blue to describe Joe. (I'll list below the songs Taylor uses blue to describe or use as a metaphor as a Joe, including the definitely known autobiographical songs on folklore and evermore.)

This leads me to believe that this song is about Joe Alwyn during one of their short off phases. They truly loved each other, and the lines, "Don't want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in this world would do" simply would not make sense written about anything else if taken as an autobiographical point of view.

Thanks for listening to my opinion and feel free to share yours!

-- Long Live Lindsay

(I wrote this with the assumption that it is autobiographical and she is writing about a he. However, folklore is full of characters. It could be from the point of view of any gender speaking about any gender. I'm mostly speaking about it from the gender of a she speaking about a he only because I PERSONALLY relate to it so much. Please don't take any pronouns too seriously.)

Songs Taylor Used Blue When Speaking About Joe:

Delicate

Gorgeous

Cruel Summer

Lover

I Think He Knows

Miss Americana (if the blue is referring to him)

Paper Rings

Afterglow

invisible string

peace

Hits Different

(I'm probably missing some, but those are the ones I'm positive about!)

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

WHAT A WAY TO WAKE UP!!!!!!!

i am about to lock tf in, so get a snack, everybody. because i'm going full dissertation on this one.

first of all, i would like to note that the angel!reader aspect is SO filthy, this pairing was always going to give us LIFE... but the fact that it's the already forbidden nature of sam x ruby x reader, with an angel thrown into the mix? VILE in all the best ways. the loss of innocence, the fact that they've conditioned her to this point?! holy hell. i'm foaming at the mouth and pussy!!!! who said that?

It was a lost cause. You’d been locked up here -- some hidden away cabin -- for longer than you could even keep track of. Every prayer, every beg, for rescue had gone unanswered. Still, you couldn’t stop your kneeling against the floorboards of the bedroom, hands clutched together.

the narration here is already devastating. the fact that she knows it's a lost cause, but the action of praying regardless... i don't know if it's the reformed catholic girly in me, but this made me ache. physically ACHE. the hopelessness of knowing it won't work, but still going through the motions is like comforting yourself in the most bleak way possible. which, when you look at her situation? is probably the only form of hope she has. sweet angel.

“Mmm…,” you heard purred out from behind you, “still at it?”

You ignored the voice. He was cruel. Cruel and mean and so fucking hot that he had lured you into this whole trap.

oh, GOODNESS. because the way this made my entire body tense. cruel sam is in a league of his own. that mocking question of still at it? how long has she been doing this? how long has she been kneeling, begging for salvation—that she knows isn't coming—just for him to come in with that cruel questioning?

“They’re not coming.” Sam hummed. “Your family no longer deems you worth the effort.”

this is CUTTING. this might be worse than any type of physical damage or punishment she receives. the bluntness of it. the fact that she's been a soldier for eons, fighting her father's battle, just for a demon-blood corrupted sam winchester to hammer this particularly painful nail into her coffin? truly, this hurt. my heart bleeds for her.

“Don’t call me that,” you immediately responded, but had the sense to add, “please.”

the SPEED with which she responds with this?! my heart twisted. i had tears welling in my eyes. it's utterly soul-rending. the dichotomy of her praying just moments before, to begging sam not to call her angel? it shows how broken down she is, mentally and emotionally. she's just going through the motions of praying. she doesn't see herself as holy or divinity incarnate anymore. but it doesn't stop her kneeling and praying.

“Oh, so quick to abandon your faith?” Sam raised his eyebrows and you looked away. Your eyes were watering and you felt the need to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying.

he's so CRUEL. FUCK. literally, calling her out like that? doesn't surprise me that he would say this, but that almost makes it hurt more... you know? like, of course she's abandoning her faith, sam. you and ruby have held her captive for christ knows how long. the poor thing has been broken down.

“The last time I took them off, I had to chase you through the woods like a rabbit.” Sam was right. The moment your shackles had left your wrists the week before, you had headbutted him in the nose and dashed out the door. Ruby had tried to snatch you back up, but it was Sam with his long legs who had caught you. He’d knocked you to the ground before slinging you over his shoulder. Your widened eyes had caught sight of the blood streaming from his nose, the fire of rage burning in his eyes, and you immediately started your groveling.

"chase you through the woods like a rabbit." is such visceral imagery. rabbits are prey animals, and they are fast and tiny, but the image of sam chasing her down? this huge man, absolutely a predator in every sense of the word, chasing her through the woods? is so dark. it evokes genuine terror. and she's an angel!!! she's a powerful being!!! but still, she was chased down by a man and slung over his shoulder (also tying back to the hunting imagery, hunters catch their prey and sling it over their shoulder like a trophy to haul back and string up) is just so rich with symbolism, it's painful.

Sobs of “I’m sorry” had left your throat and lungs raw. Ruby didn’t listen. She just sliced away at your forearm with your own blade. Her goal was made clear when you caught sight of the cuts.

She’d carved Mine into your skin. Mine meaning you would never get away from her, or Sam, for that matter.

holy. fucking. shit. this actually made me break out in goosebumps. the sobbing, the being ignored, the using of her OWN blade against her to punish her. it's horror in it's finest format. and it's literary gold, zoe. the carving of Mine, the possession without actual possession. i have goosebumps again.

Then you said those words. You hadn’t known the impact it would have. You were just babbling on. “Please, Sam,” you hesitated for just a moment, “I love you.”

CHRIST. the way i gasped. this is true conditioning. this is her breaking point. forgetting the prayer, the abandoning of her faith, the hopelessness of being shackled and punished and held against her will. all of it culminated to this moment. she's gone. my heart hurts.

It had been the first time you had said it. Ruby and Sam had dragged a vague confession-like thing out of you before, but this was the first time you dared to say those exact words. You meant them, in a twisted kind of way. That was the best part for him. Sam dove onto you, lips smashing into yours. He’d kissed you before. Once as his old self, and dozens of times as this new version. It had only ever been something small, a peck lasting a few seconds if he was lucky.

and OF fucking COURSE this would be his reaction. of course. the fact that she's finally saying she loves him? from her place on the floor, bound, after probably hours of fruitless and pointless prayer? of course he'd get off on that. of course he'd dive in to kiss her. this is the moment of true victory.

“Really, Sam?” Her voice chilled you to the bone. Sam pulled away but you slumped into him, burying your face in his neck.

HERE SHE IS. THE MAIN BITCH OF THE HOUR!! you literally have her voice down. like, she's been stood there watching, probably thinking sam's a little pathetic for crumbling like this and immediately buying into the admission of love. you can tell she's the pants. she's the one running the entire show. and honestly? yes. love it.

“Ruby,” Sam said, his hand splayed across your back to hold you close. He didn’t seem all too shocked to see her. You wondered how long she’d been there. “One mutter of love from her and you’re rolling over like a dog.” Ruby stepped closer into the room, her eyes stuck on you clinging to Sam. “She’s lying.”

i made a noise here that i fear i cannot explain. "rolling over like a dog" ties back to the whole "rabbit chasing" imagery, which is just delicious. your brain, zoe, is second-to-none. absolutely gut-punching and beautiful. the accusation that angel is lying? stings. and we know this is a test, but it doesn't make it any less shocking.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from whining when she finally reached you. You were still in Sam’s arms, but he’d moved one of his hands to rest on the back of Ruby’s thigh. Ruby narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.” She said, a challenging look in her eye. You let out a shaky breath, fear racing through you. She didn’t believe you? “I-I love you, please, I swear.” You stuttered. You didn’t know what she would do if she thought you were lying. Your forearm throbbed in pain at the memory of your last punishment. Ruby dragged her eyes to Sam, tilting her head in a silent message. He must have known how to decode her, because a second later he was standing next to her. You were left alone, on your knees, with Sam and Ruby towering over you. They held twin smirks at the sight of your widened eyes. “Mmm, I don’t know,” Sam hummed, turning his head to Ruby, “I don’t believe her either.”

this entire section made my stomach flutter. the imagery of angel whining ties back again to that dog metaphor, whining for it's owner, whining for the hand that feeds or beats. and then the stuttering, almost pleading tone of the admission again. the way it sounds like begging? ouch. OUCH. and then ruby getting sam in on the taunting? further throwing her control around, because she really is the puppeteer. she really is the one in control of this entire situation.

“Show us how much you love us.” She pressed two fingers past your lips. You didn’t need to ask what she meant. You knew.

I SCREAMED. the "prove it" challenge into this? is so cruel but absolutely disgustingly hot and unhinged. fuck. zoe, wow. wow.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You pulled your head back, straining against their shared hold. Somehow, you slipped out of their grasp. You tumbled back, catching yourself on your hands. Your chest heaved and you trembled, trying to catch your breath enough. It had scared you, that small moment when you didn’t know if you would be able to come up for air. “Oh, angel.” Ruby knelt to her knees, brushing your tears away. You didn’t flinch. Ruby loved you, and as long as you were a good girl, she wouldn’t hurt you. “Was it too much?” You nodded and let her palm cup against your cheek. Sam gathered one of your hands in his, helping you to your feet. You swayed a bit, but ultimately stood your ground by leaning against Sam. “We’re sorry, baby,” Sam kissed your forehead. He was surprisingly sweet for someone who was still rock hard. You closed your eyes and buried your head in his chest. You felt your hair get brushed back.

the terror of not being able to breathe. being forced down on it (all of our dream, tbf, but i digress) while they don't even spare you the bare minimum of paying attention to check that you can breathe?! the sheer power play of it all. unbelievable. so yum, but so horrifying. true horror. and then ruby? with her condescension-disguised-as-care comforting? OF COURSE it was fucking too much! you both know it was. but it's just furthering the control over angel. sam's comfort feels somewhat genuine, even though it probably isn't as real as it comes across.

“Fuck, this all from loving us?” Sam asked when he caught sight of your glistening center.

HOLY FREAKING SHIT. tmi but i throbbed. FUCK!!!!!! not gonna be over this particular line for weeks. maybe months. i'll let you know.

“I love you.” You whined when Ruby tapped a light message against your clit with her finger. Sam and Ruby exchanged similar looks of joy at your programmed response.

straight into this? my chest heaved. i gasped. she's truly gone. she's broken and it's somehow hot and sad at the same time. zoe, you are a literary genius. i'll never stop screaming it.

i cannot quote the entire smut scene and indent it. but i WANT to. i am floored by it. i am utterly and emotionally floored by sam saying he'll be gentle, angel KNOWING he's lying, but still wanting it. ruby manoeuvring them like actual puppets? gold. i keep saying it's horror, but it really is horror in the hottest sense.

"Come in her."

oh. fuck.

i have nothing else to add. oh fuck.

“And who will love you when no one else will?” Ruby asked. She pulled a blanket over you three, protecting against the cold night air. Not that anyone would get cold tonight, not with your bodies still tangled together. “You and Sam.” You breathed out one last answer before drifting off. The soothing circles on your spine calmed the part of your brain keeping you from sleep. Ruby smirked proudly, kissing both yours and Sam’s foreheads while you both slept.

to this?!?!?!?! THIS?!?! are you kidding me, zoe?! that final little pull at the thread, when it's already fucking eviscerated? that's the final test, making her admit that they love her (and perhaps they genuinely do, but it's twisted and toxic and dangerous love) when no one else will? that little nod back to sam's line about how her family don't deem her worthy? that's truly heartbreaking. and she says it, almost content too?

i am absolutely reeling. i'm gonna have to reread this a few times just to pick up on any symbolism i've missed because fucking hell, you fed me with this. this is unparalleled and absolute literature in its finest form.

zoe, thank you.

possession sam winchester x ruby x angel!reader

content: mentions of (kidnapping, shackles, punishment via cutting, non-consensual voyeurism), stockholm syndrome, manipulation, coercion, demon blood sam, sam and ruby are possessive and mean, sam is manipulatively soft, ruby is manipulatively mean, praise, language, religious themes, smut (oral sex (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, edging, size kink perhaps, marking/bruising, unprotect piv penetration, face sitting, implied cockwarming), canon typical blood play (think sam with the demon blood, i don't know what else to call it), perhaps some fluff if you twist it enough

word count: 4.9k

note: everyone say "thank you smin!" for inspiring this with our feral chats over messaging. i may have missed some warnings, please let me know if i did. i'll say this until my lungs give out: LET ME INTO YOUR MARRIAGE, JARED AND GEN!!

The cool metal of your runed shackles weighed your hands down, forcing them to rest on your knees.

Here you were, again, praying out for help, again.

It was a lost cause. You’d been locked up here -- some hidden away cabin -- for longer than you could even keep track of. Every prayer, every beg, for rescue had gone unanswered. Still, you couldn’t stop your kneeling against the floorboards of the bedroom, hands clutched together.

“Mmm…,” you heard purred out from behind you, “still at it?”

You ignored the voice. He was cruel. Cruel and mean and so fucking hot that he had lured you into this whole trap.

Sam Winchester was supposed to be kind. He was supposed to be the kind of boy you smile and flutter your lashes at to get whatever you want. Something had changed since your first meeting with the man.

You suspected that something was your other captor, who had been significantly missing for days.

The thumping of boots on the creaky wood floor made you shiver, and you quickly mumbled the rest of your prayer. Cold fingertips grazed against the bit of spine that pushed against the skin of your bent neck. You hated the way you loved it.

“They’re not coming.” Sam hummed. “Your family no longer deems you worth the effort.”

You swallowed, lip quivering. You were scared of Sam, yes, but not because he’d hurt you. He’d simply sat back and watched as Ruby sliced into your skin after your first, and last attempt at escape. You’d looked to him for help. All he had to offer you was a look of faux sympathy. You knew the truth from the shimmer of something dark in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. You didn’t need to explain the apology. It’d been the only thing you’d said since he had caught you in the woods last week, your weak body thrown over his shoulder.

“Oh, I know you are.” He tutted condescendingly, giving you a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He brushed a hand over your hair and you leaned into it. “But bad girls need punishment.”

“Where’s Ruby?” You asked. The words threw him off-guard, but he didn’t show it.

“She’s out. Just you and me right now, angel.” Sam’s voice was so soft, so calming, you’d forgotten your momentary fear of him.

“Don’t call me that,” you immediately responded, but had the sense to add, “please.”

“Oh, so quick to abandon your faith?” Sam raised his eyebrows and you looked away. Your eyes were watering and you felt the need to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying.

You knew it was wrong. You shouldn’t give up. Not ever. That was where angels fell into trouble. They gave in to emotion, to the overwhelming sense of dread when their Father ignored their prayers. You had thought you were better than them, but here you were. You should have known you were weak when you had let Sam, the old Sam, kiss you.

“Oh, my angel.” Sam’s voice weaved into your brain, growing roots into the smallest parts of you. You didn’t correct him this time.

“Remember, they abandoned you first,” he cupped a hand on your cheek, using his thumb to brush away the stray tears, “they left you here to rot. Who was by your side through the days and nights?”

“You,” you whimpered, your chains rattling with your shifting movement, “and Ruby.” You watched a soft but wicked smile cross Sam’s face.

Neither of you acknowledged the fact that the days and nights were his and Ruby’s faults. You wouldn’t be suffering like this if it wasn’t for them abducting you. They’d hoped your loss in Heaven would spur an army of angels for the rescue, an army they knew they could defeat. When no one came for you, the two had come to a silent agreement: you were theirs, forever.

“That’s right,” he cooed. He knelt to your level, eyes raking over your worn nightgown. “And who always knows best?”

“You and Ruby.” You echoed, the names tumbling from your lips on instinct. They’d flipped some switch in your brain long ago, but it had taken time for you to truly follow everything they said.

Alone, you were still that hellbent-on-escape little angel they’d trapped, but in their presences? You grew weaker until all that you thought was what they had fed you.

Sam and Ruby both knew, it wouldn’t be long before you were wholly theirs.

“Mhm,” Sam trailed a finger over your collarbone. He just wanted to feel your skin. The warmth reminded him that you were real.

There had been a time, before Ruby, when he loved you in a way that was holy. He wanted to give you the world. Your risk of falling had kept him from doing all of the things he really wanted. He had dared a small kiss, in the moments before he’d faced a nest of vampires alone. He couldn’t die without knowing how you tasted.

Now, with the demon blood -- Ruby’s blood -- running through him, he wasn’t in the mood to compromise. If you would fall, then he and Ruby would catch you. Heaven didn’t deserve an angel like you.

They did.

They loved you in the only way they knew how, obsession, but it was love, no less.

“Can you take them off?” Your voice was meek. Terror ripped through you when Sam pulled his eyes back to yours. You were tempted to take it all back, beg for forgiveness for even asking, but Sam gave you a sad smile.

“The last time I took them off, I had to chase you through the woods like a rabbit.” Sam was right. The moment your shackles had left your wrists the week before, you had headbutted him in the nose and dashed out the door.

Ruby had tried to snatch you back up, but it was Sam with his long legs who had caught you. He’d knocked you to the ground before slinging you over his shoulder. Your widened eyes had caught sight of the blood streaming from his nose, the fire of rage burning in his eyes, and you immediately started your groveling.

Sobs of “I’m sorry” had left your throat and lungs raw. Ruby didn’t listen. She just sliced away at your forearm with your own blade. Her goal was made clear when you caught sight of the cuts.

She’d carved Mine into your skin. Mine meaning you would never get away from her, or Sam, for that matter.

Sam had pulled you into his arms after that, a pool of your blood staining his shirt. He didn’t care. He simply brought you to your room, a square space with only a bed, and wrapped your arm in gauze.

“I’m sorry,” you had quivered out again.

Sam smiled, kissing your forehead.

“I know.” He had responded before tucking you into your soft sheets and blankets.

That night, he’d fucked Ruby so hard he had seen stars.

“It won’t happen again, I swear.” You promised, shifting your knees again. You took Sam’s hands into yours, wrapping your fingers around them.

“I won’t run. Please, I’ll be a good girl.” You begged, bringing your forehead to where your hands connected. Sam loved this, watching you plead with him to get what you wanted. He wasn’t going to give in that easily, not yet, but it was a nice sight to have.

Then you said those words. You hadn’t known the impact it would have. You were just babbling on.

“Please, Sam,” you hesitated for just a moment, “I love you.”

It had been the first time you had said it. Ruby and Sam had dragged a vague confession-like thing out of you before, but this was the first time you dared to say those exact words. You meant them, in a twisted kind of way. That was the best part for him.

Sam dove onto you, lips smashing into yours. He’d kissed you before. Once as his old self, and dozens of times as this new version. It had only ever been something small, a peck lasting a few seconds if he was lucky.

This was different. He loved you, and you loved him. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He wouldn’t hold back anymore.

He moved his lips against yours hungrily. You melted into him, letting your mind drift away to a better place.

His hands worked at your shackles, the lock clicking open with the turn of a key. You sighed when they dropped to the floor. Your wrists were flushed red, the skin raw, but the weight was finally gone.

You stayed true to your word. You didn’t run. You were a good girl.

“Really, Sam?”

Her voice chilled you to the bone. Sam pulled away but you slumped into him, burying your face in his neck.

“Ruby,” Sam said, his hand splayed across your back to hold you close. He didn’t seem all too shocked to see her. You wondered how long she’d been there.

“One mutter of love from her and you’re rolling over like a dog.” Ruby stepped closer into the room, her eyes stuck on you clinging to Sam. “She’s lying.”

“No, she’s not.” Sam hooked a finger into your hair to pull it away from your face. “Isn’t that right, angel?”

You nodded, eyes closed. Ruby frightened you more than Sam. She’d been mean from the start. She’d also shown some softness to you, but nothing like Sam. You didn’t know if it was enough to compensate for her torture.

“Use your words,” he encouraged, tracing a finger on your cheek.

“I love you,” you said to Sam, then, after a second of contemplation, you opened your eyes and looked at Ruby. “And I love you.”

You watched something cross over her face. Something dark and lustful. She twisted her sneer into a smile and you kept your eyes locked on hers while she walked to you.

“She’s not gonna hurt you,” Sam soothed in your ear when you tensed up. “As long as you’re a good girl, she won’t hurt you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from whining when she finally reached you. You were still in Sam’s arms, but he’d moved one of his hands to rest on the back of Ruby’s thigh. Ruby narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” She said, a challenging look in her eye. You let out a shaky breath, fear racing through you. She didn’t believe you?

“I-I love you, please, I swear.” You stuttered. You didn’t know what she would do if she thought you were lying. Your forearm throbbed in pain at the memory of your last punishment.

Ruby dragged her eyes to Sam, tilting her head in a silent message. He must have known how to decode her, because a second later he was standing next to her. You were left alone, on your knees, with Sam and Ruby towering over you. They held twin smirks at the sight of your widened eyes.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Sam hummed, turning his head to Ruby, “I don’t believe her either.”

“She likes to lie.” Ruby agreed, nodding her head. Sam still looked at Ruby, but her eyes never left yours. Your pace quickened. They loved the fear radiating from you.

“No, no, I’m not lying,” you rushed out, “I love you, both of you, so much.” You scrambled closer to them, resting your head on Ruby’s stomach. Your hand grasped at Sam’s shirt. “Please believe me.”

“Prove it.”

Your trembling paused for a moment. You tilted your head up to look at Ruby and she smirked. Her fingertips danced over your cheek, landing on your lips. You just watched her, tears threatening to well back up.

“Show us how much you love us.” She pressed two fingers past your lips. You didn’t need to ask what she meant. You knew.

You’d heard them enough, the moans and grunts echoing through the thin cabin walls. They did it on purpose, you’d realized once. They were loud and messy and verbal in an attempt to lure you in. They’d hoped you would give in to their control faster if you heard what you were missing out on. It had worked, not in the way they had wanted, but you found yourself yearning for their dirty words during sex to be aimed at you.

You pressed your tongue against the pads of her fingers, sucking on them.

“Good girl.” She praised before pulling them out.

Your hands flew to the front of her jeans, hastily unbuttoning them. You tugged the denim down her legs, pulling her underwear with them.

“So fucking ready to please.” Sam mumbled, palming himself through his own jeans. He’d have your lips wrapped around him soon enough, but right now he wanted to watch. Ruby weaved her fingers into your hair, helping to guide your mouth where she wanted it the most.

You dragged your tongue through her folds. Your eyes fell shut at the taste.

“That’s right,” Ruby cooed when you got the rhythm down, “just like that, angel.” You looked up at her through your lashes, a swell of pride blooming in your chest when she moaned.

Sam placed his hand where Ruby’s lay tangled in your hair. He interlocked his fingers with hers. They were one, putting just the right amount of pressure on you to get Ruby biting back noises.

You trailed your hand to the front of Sam’s jeans. For a moment, you just brushed your thumb against his bulge, feeling the hard denim against your fingers. He rolled his hips, chasing the friction.

Sam bent his neck down to Ruby’s level. He kissed her hungrily. This was different from the way he’d kissed you. With you, he’d been starved of your touch for far longer. Ruby, he was comfortable with. The passion was still there, but Sam knew the best angle to slot their lips together.

Sam pulled her bottom lip in between his teeth when her mouth fell open. You had flicked the tip of your tongue against her clit and it had the effect you had hoped for.

“Knew you’d be good,” Sam growled at you, sucking on Ruby’s lip before moving to her neck.

With the help of Sam’s hand over your own, you were able to undress his bottom half. His cock sprang free, red and angry.

“I don’t know-,” you started to say when you saw Sam’s size, but Ruby clutched her hand around your jaw, making you look back at her.

“Don’t you love him?” She asked, a cruel spark running through her eyes.

You nodded.

She smiled and used her thumb to swipe up the mix of her arousal and your spit that was glistening on your chin. Her eyes rolled back when she wrapped her lips around the digit, sucking it clean. With a look from her, you knew you needed to do this. No, you corrected yourself, you wanted to do this.

You turned your attention to Sam, who was staring down at you while he stroked himself. He raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, angel,” Ruby murmured, rubbing herself with her middle finger, “show Sammy how much you love him.”

You hesitated before wrapping a hand around Sam, just above his own. You noted the way your fingertips weren’t able to touch. A squeeze made Sam suck in a breath.

You kissed his leaking tip, the taste of him leaking through to your taste buds. Slowly, you pushed him past your lips. Your jaw dropped further and further as you took in more of him. You stopped when he brushed against the back of your throat.

“Aww, poor angel can’t fit it all in.” Ruby mocked in a sweet voice. She pushed slightly on your head, forcing you closer to Sam’s abdomen. Your breath hitched as you tried not to gag.

A smile twitched onto Sam’s face at the sight.

“See how she’s taking it,” Ruby purred to Sam and pushed you further, “she was made for this -- made for us.”

Sam steadily let the air out of his lungs, dropping his head forward when your throat constricted into a swallow. He swooped his head lower, nipping at Ruby’s cheekbone. He still had his hand twisted with hers in your hair, but he took his other and began to drag circles on her clit.

Ruby’s mouth fell open in ecstasy. You felt the twitch of Sam against your throat when Ruby groaned. In the haze of her pleasure, she rushed her pushing and your nose crashed into Sam’s pubic bone. This time, you did gag. It was too much all at once.

You dug your nails into Sam and Ruby’s thighs, hoping to get their attention to what you were going through. They continued to be enamoured by each other. Sam was pulling on the skin of her neck with his teeth, just enough to leave bruises. Ruby was grinding into Sam’s hand, moans falling from her lips.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You pulled your head back, straining against their shared hold. Somehow, you slipped out of their grasp. You tumbled back, catching yourself on your hands.

Your chest heaved and you trembled, trying to catch your breath enough. It had scared you, that small moment when you didn’t know if you would be able to come up for air.

“Oh, angel.” Ruby knelt to her knees, brushing your tears away. You didn’t flinch. Ruby loved you, and as long as you were a good girl, she wouldn’t hurt you. “Was it too much?”

You nodded and let her palm cup against your cheek. Sam gathered one of your hands in his, helping you to your feet. You swayed a bit, but ultimately stood your ground by leaning against Sam.

“We’re sorry, baby,” Sam kissed your forehead. He was surprisingly sweet for someone who was still rock hard. You closed your eyes and buried your head in his chest. You felt your hair get brushed back.

“Let us make it up to you,” Ruby kissed your neck. “Let us show you how much we love you.”

You hummed out a response.

They worked together to guide you to your bed. You didn’t know how it would fit all three of you. Sam and Ruby didn’t seem worried about this fact.

Sam gathered the hem of your nightgown up, lifting it over your head to leave you naked. When you regained your sight, Ruby had shed the rest of her clothing. You eyed her like she was the most holy thing you’d ever set eyes on. The flash of mischief in her eyes told you she was anything but.

“Lie back, angel.” Ruby instructed. She placed one hand on your back and the other on your chest, helping you into the position she wanted you in. She left featherlight kisses on you, spanning across your chest, stomach, thighs. She was working you up while Sam undressed himself.

“Fuck, this all from loving us?” Sam asked when he caught sight of your glistening center.

“I love you.” You whined when Ruby tapped a light message against your clit with her finger. Sam and Ruby exchanged similar looks of joy at your programmed response.

This was is it. They knew it then.

You were theirs, all theirs, only theirs.

They took turns going in on you, tongues sometimes mashing together when the other couldn’t hold themself back. You were a writhing mess, but they held your hips steady.

“So good,” Ruby muttered, panting. She nipped at your clit lightly, just enough to make you squeak. She pushed her tongue into you, fucking you with it while Sam slithered up to your face.

“So perfect,” he whispered to you, kissing you. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his lips. He brushed a thumb across one of your nipples.

“I’m-,” you broke mid-sentence when Sam sucked a mark onto your neck, “I’m gonna come.” Your voice was small.

You grasped onto Sam’s shoulders. He slunk back down your body, leaving bruises with his mouth along the way. You locked eyes with Ruby. She smirked against you and sucked a bit harder.

She saw it in your eyes, the sparkle you got just before you came. You didn’t see the spark of dominance in her before it was too late. She’d pulled away from you, leaving you whining as your high slowly simmered down.

“Not yet.” Ruby slid up to your level, kissing your forehead. You knew better than to argue. Snuggling into her neck, you felt Sam’s hands graze against your skin until they cupped over your breasts.

“Wanna feel you come apart on me, angel.” Sam whispered into your ear. He kissed your neck.

You let out a breathy whine, a quiet and soft noise. Your eyes fluttered shut while they showered you with kisses.

You never felt more loved.

In Heaven, you were a soldier. A pawn in the divine plan. You were used to deliver salvation to humanity, responsibilities of keeping everything as it was supposed to be according to your Father’s plan.

Here, you were appreciated for what you brought to the table. You had no expectations, nothing other than complete obedience. You didn’t have to think. Sam and Ruby loved you, and they would take care of you until the end of days.

You needed to give them more. You needed to show them how much you loved them.

“Ruby?” You asked in a timid voice. Your lips brushed against her skin while you spoke. She smirked, locking eyes with Sam. She was waiting for you to do this. She knew what would come next.

“Yes, my angel?” Ruby answered.

“Can I make you and Sam feel good again?”

Ruby ran a tongue across her teeth, trying not to let you know how much your willing nature was already pleasing her.

“Yes.” She was already guiding you up to sit on your knees on the bed. She motioned to the spot where she wanted Sam and he obliged, rolling over to lay on his back.

“Right here, angel, sit right here.” She instructed, her firm grip on your hips dragging you to rest on Sam’s thighs. You brushed against the base of his cock, making you let out a shaky breath. You were already sensitive after the night’s earlier events, but the knowledge that he would soon be inside of you was enough to intimidate you. The sick part was the arousal that washed over you in tandem with the fear.

Ruby bent down until her mouth was just over Sam. She spit onto him, using it as lubrication to prepare him for you. Not that it was all that needed; you were dripping just thinking about how much you loved them both.

“Come here.” Ruby beckoned. She helped you move over Sam, lining him up with your entrance.

“I’ll be gentle,” Sam lied, assuring you when he noticed your hesitation. He could have been sincere in it, you thought, but you knew his intentions went out the window the moment you sunk down onto him. His eyes flicked to pure black. It was a reminder that his humanity was dwindling. The demon blood was converting his soul to darkness.

You sighed, your head falling back, when you finally reached his base. You sat there, trying to organize your thoughts. Sam didn’t like that. He didn’t want you to think.

He gripped onto your hips, lifting them before letting his own hips follow, slamming himself back inside. You gasped, a moan escaping. Ruby rested one hand on your lower back, the other on Sam’s abdomen, like the puppet master she was. She controlled you both, but her hold on you was stronger than the one on Sam.

“Fits so well,” Sam grunted, pounding into you. You let out a strangled moan. You gripped onto Ruby’s arm, needing to stabilize yourself.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” Ruby flicked the tip of her tongue against your cheek, pushing her chest closer to you. You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe with the speed Sam was moving at.

That pleased Ruby even more. You were her dumb little angel, listening to everything she said.

She pulled away from you to climb onto Sam’s face. This scene was too much. She needed to come, and she knew Sam was always happy to offer his mouth up for that assistance. She sat comfortably on his face, eyes fluttering shut when he groaned into her.

You watched her with a hazy mind, choking on your breath at the pleasure. When she looked back at you, her eyes were the same inky black as Sam’s had been. It should have sent a shiver down your spine that you were in the presence of such evil.

But Ruby didn’t feel evil. Not when she was pulling you toward her to kiss you so hungrily. This was your Ruby. She loved you, and you loved her.

You whimpered into her mouth when she clawed at your arms, tearing away the bandages. In the haste of trying to prove yourself to Sam and Ruby, your slow-healing cuts had been ripped open. The blood seeped out slowly, not enough to trickle, but enough to drip when it pooled up too much. You hadn’t noticed.

Ruby did. An idea popped into her head, one bred from the desire to be closer to you. She remembered forbidding you from healing yourself after your punishment, and, God, was she grateful for it when her tongue flashed over your arm.

She’d tasted blood before, bathed in it even, but nothing like this. Your blood brought the sweetest sting down her throat. She relished in the fleeting pain. She scraped her teeth against the slices, chasing the high angel blood was bringing to her. You whined as she moaned.

Sam almost protested when Ruby slid back but before he could get a word in, she slammed your forearm down to his mouth. He sucked on instinct and his thrusts stuttered with the tang of your blood.

It didn’t hurt him like it had Ruby. No, it had a different effect on him. It turned the dirty inside him clean, filled him with hope. He felt lighter, almost. Somehow he knew that the mixture of demon and angel blood in his system would make him more powerful than ever.

The thought brought his pace back to life.

His hips were unforgiving on the backs of your thighs, bruising them with every moment of contact.

Ruby reclaimed her prior spot over his face. This time, Sam had her falling apart in minutes. He’d gotten a new spark inside of him with this whole thing. You and Ruby were his girls and he’d be damned if you two went unsatisfied.

A scream caught in your throat when you came. You doubled over, falling to Sam’s chest. It didn’t falter his pumping in and out of you. In fact, it seemed to motivate him more. The clenching of your walls around him had him silently begging for release. He needed it.

Ruby took no time to level her head with Sam’s. She was still recovering from her orgasm, but knowing he was still inside you had her kissing next to his ear.

“Come in her,” she whispered to him, nibbling on his earlobe. Sam groaned in anticipation. He’d been planning on doing it but now Ruby had given him the permission he needed. “Fill her up for me.”

“Fuck,” he seethed when it finally happened. He dug his hips into your ass, grinding up to ensure his release was deep inside. He was able to get in a few sloppy thrusts to guarantee he was completely satisfied before he relaxed into the mattress of your bed.

You were heaving out breaths. You hadn’t opened your eyes since your orgasm, but they both knew you weren’t sleeping. Ruby traced a finger across Sam’s cheek before kissing him.

“Good boy.” She praised, earning her an exhausted smile from him.

“Angel?” Ruby asked softly, skimming her hand over your shoulder. You didn’t move. The only indication you had heard Ruby came from the small “Hmm?” that vibrated from your throat. She smiled wickedly at that. You were completely spent. Still, she wanted one last thing before you fell asleep.

“Tell me again.” She ordered. You needed no explanation, even with your fuzzy mind keeping you from thinking.

“I love you,” you mumbled, shifting your hips. Sam scratched lightly against your back, making your skin tingle.

“And who will love you when no one else will?” Ruby asked. She pulled a blanket over you three, protecting against the cold night air. Not that anyone would get cold tonight, not with your bodies still tangled together.

“You and Sam.” You breathed out one last answer before drifting off. The soothing circles on your spine calmed the part of your brain keeping you from sleep. Ruby smirked proudly, kissing both yours and Sam’s foreheads while you both slept.

“Good girl.” She purred, settling in to watch over you both all night long.

The morning would come, but your fear of them would not. The wounds on your arm would heal into a scar, spelling out their possession of you every time you looked at it. As long as you were a good girl, Ruby wouldn’t hurt you again, a mantra that reminded you to never try to leave them again.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess

additional loveys that i know will want to read this : @saltcxrcle @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @ambiguous-avery

[imababblekat]

True Family

**WARNINGS**: mention of parental abuse!!

~~~~~~~~

Anon Request, “ Hey! Would it be ok if you wrote an angst Link x reader where the reader has past trauma from bad parents or is dealing with them currently and he basically just comforts them? Only if it's ok with you!!”

~xXx~

Rage, fear, and sadness. Emotions that swirled like a devastating storm all at once within you. How could they? How could your very own parents have treated you such a way? They were supposed to be caring, nurturing of something they created and brought to this world. Instead, they couldn’t give a single care in the world as they threw harsh words and perhaps even harsher hands. Hot tears streamed down your face as you scowled with gritted teeth, an ugly twist within your heart and stomach. You knew not everyone was as unlucky as you when it came to blood family, that everyone had their own ups and downs with those that cared and raised them, but hearing the Princess go off in a fit of irritated anger at her father for putting a stop to another one of her misadventures had been the final straw. Her frustration with the King had resulted in her saying some awful things that any angsty teen would spout without actually, truly meaning it. However, it still angered you, set something off deep inside that you thought you had long got over. The sounds of quickened pace, had you curl more in on yourself, not wanting whoever had just arrived to see your sorry state. When the mystery person had come to a slow, you felt a sudden but gentle hand rest on your shoulder. The action had spooked you enough to snap your attention towards the person, but when familiar blue eyes gazed back, your narrowed brows furrowed upward and you felt another rack of sobs claw up your throat. Link didn’t hesitate to open his arms for you to lunge into his welcoming embrace, slightly knocking him back though he was quick to steady you both. Your choked cries were the only thing he could hear as he rubbed soothing circles into your back, a sorrow at hearing your pain finding place in his heart. Feeling your tears and possibly running nose begin to soak the Hero’s tunic, you tried to hold back some of your cries, pulling away just enough to have room to furiously wipe at your aching eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have stormed off like that, but it’s just. . .” Link nodded, silently urging you to continue as you took in a shaky breath. “I get that she has some troubles with her father, but how can she not see that it’s because he cares? I would have given anything to have my own parents even look at me with all but ill intent!” Knowing that this was the truth, and remembering back to how he had first found you that fateful night out in the woods looking worse for ware, Link understood your reasoning for abruptly leaving the grand dining hall. The Hylian was just as fortunate as Zelda to come from a loving family, maybe even more so in some aspects, but even he could see where you were coming from. No one’s parents are perfect, everyone makes mistakes, but what your own flesh and blood did to you was anything but a mistake. With a single stray tear following the path so many did before it, you stared at the negative space between you and Link. “Why didn’t they love me?” Your sobbed question came out soft, quiet, but still impactful with such deep distraught and agony. Feeling his own throat become tight, Link was quick to pull you back into another close embrace. Your biological parents may have never given you the love they should have, the familial love that you deserved. However, that was okay, because now that you were apart of his life, Link was determined to show you that family was more than blood and he had plenty of love to give for you. As the last rays of the evening sun disappeared and the night sky alit with stars, you continued to be held by the only person whose ever cared about you, receiving continuous hushed reassurance and soft kisses to your tousled hair.

~xXx~

[fandomwritingbit]

(gn)employee x william afton

warnings: mature themes. a kind of dom thing (tbh I have no clue what this is lol)

A/N: I’m trying to get through requests at the moment but my life is kicking my arse, so in the meantime a little something

Just as you were about to clock off, you were near devastated when Henry came into your little office and gave you a list of things outside your job role to do.

Go through and take inventory. Manually enter everything into the system. Print of the finished log. It sounds simple and truth be told, it is. But it's a fucking pain in the arse, especially at 10pm. Even more so when it wasn’t even your job really.

But you grit your teeth and bare it, managing to accomplish everything just after midnight. Taking the huge document to Henry’s office for him to approve and file, your mood is further impacted when you realise the fucker had gone home! Leaving you little to no choice but to go to the other owner, Mr Afton.

This man was weird, not just unusual but creepy. He’d make no effort to keep his gaze respectful when talking to anyone, least of all you. God, his eyes lit up when you were in the room with him, hardly admiration for how hard you worked just pure predatory, looking for anything he could get a slight kick out of.

What a joy.

“  

“Uh, Mr Afton?” You say apprehensively, peeking your head out from around the door to his office. If you were being honest, you disliked this man. He’s sleazy, rude and as welcoming as police tape. Seriously, the man had hardly said two words to you since you started 3 months ago. And you were expecting a worse show from him now because of the time.

But here you were, with some paperwork to drop off right before you clock out and get the fuck home.

You heard him sigh as you stepped properly into the room, followed by the sound of his leather chair crinkling as he leant back. Trying to close the door, you forget about the papers you were holding and drop them rather dramatically, a fan in the corner of the room obnoxiously sending them all over.

“Oh for fuck-” you say, a little louder than you’d initially intended. And look to him to see if he was about to bollock you. A small smirk pinched the corner of his mouth, as his eyes watched the last paper fall to the floor before flicking quickly over to you.  

“That’s a lot of pages.” he stated, not even bothering to hide the amusement.

“Yeah, 58, double sided... printer took fuc- ages.” You remember yourself and stop the exasperated profanity, admittedly a little too late. It was just frustration because you couldn’t bring yourself to think about picking them up, least of all with his eyes on you.

“I’ll bet.” He shook his head in what would maybe be considered pity if you squinted... whilst looking at someone else. “Pick them up then.”

“What, sorry?” you say, staring at him with your hands loose by your sides.

“You definitely heard me, sweetheart.” He leant forwards to talk to you as if you were a child. “Get on your knees. And pick them up.” You continue to stare for a second, only jumping into action when he went to push his chair out.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” You nod whilst doing as he said, getting on your knees and picking up the ones you can reach. Once you’d got those, you went to stand again, and he rolled his eyes.

“Stay on your knees. Give me a show.” His voice was mean but a quick glance at him showed the smirk behind his hand. And you stare at him near dumbfounded, What the fuck? That wasn’t appropriate. No way you were going to play along. Even though a more twisted part of you wanted to do anything this arsehole said. That was one of your weaknesses, as much as you hated arrogant men, they turned you on just as much.

“Oh but-how do I... they’re over there...” You start, testing the waters of what he was really asking you for. This felt like a bad corporate porno opening and because of that you couldn’t tell if maybe he was taking the piss.

“How very unfortunate.” He shook his head, going through the same thought process, waiting to see how much he could get away with.

You do as told, after scoffing a brief laugh of disbelief. Crawling on your hands and knees over to where each paper was. Unsure if you were doing as he asked for work or your own enjoyment. You continue anyway, very aware of his eyes on you, until you get to the last one, which was beside his desk.

As you go to grab it your boss’s foot catches the end, leaving you to just look up at him with your eyebrows raised. 

“Uh what are you doing?” you ask, leaning back to sit on your feet as being that close was well too much. 

“Having a bit of fun.” He slides the piece of paper closer to you, teasing you to see if you’d take the bait again. 

“At my expense?” Despite your blatantly questioning tone Afton smiles wide, giving you your answer immediately. 

“Humour me, lovely… And I’ll make it worth your while.” You pause, part of you kind of wanted to get out of this man’s reach, but the rest was itching to see how far he’d take this. And you have to say, from this angle he was quite intimidating, scary enough to stir you.

Letting his statement sit for a moment, you finally break the silence. “...Well what exactly are you asking me to do?”

He laughed slightly, that was a good question. What was he asking you to do- he didn’t really know. Sitting around in here all day had made him pitiably bored and that was never a good thing for William Afton. 

“Do what I say.” As he spoke, he leaned down, his huge hand cupping the bottom of your chin, not harsh, but firm. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

[headstrongblake]

@thewholecrew: grant, octavia & nick. | all american universe.

annoyance and hurt twisted together in the pit of her stomach as nick addressed her, but she offered no look of annoyance for his disdain toward her, just remained concerned at how this has spiraled out of nick's control. but a tightness spread throughout her as nick so casually mentions how he'd been after garrett's torture. as if that time wasn't engulfed in complete darkness. even with the waves of tragic heartache, alcohol, devastation and fury that she drowned in for weeks in the beginning, octavia remembered days here well. how snappish he'd been. how withdrawn and dazed. how exhausted and worn her best friend was taking care of them all. it keeps her quiet and gaze away from both of them.

it takes much longer than normal for grant's understanding and apology back in the bathroom to sink in past nick's daze. the rollercoaster of his poor choices heading on the downward slope that comes with his crash. but he latches onto them despite his minor friction with his sister, his brow furrowing as the three of them walk through his home to the backyard so he could smoke. and when his brother gave a gentle warning with his name, he stopped abruptly. "what?" he challenged, scoffing as he pulled on the sliding door, hard gaze flickering to grant. "don't patronize me, i don't need your sorry." he concluded before stepping outside, quickly pulling a lighter from his pocket to spark his smoke.

silently, he power puffed on his smoke briefly, thankful for the rush that went straight to his head. somehow, it makes him feel steadier. more clear and ready for whatever bullshit conversation these two wanna have about how he's chosen to heal. last he checked, he didn't have shit to say about how either of them decided to handle their crap, so why did they get a say in his? grant breaks the silence first as dark hues narrow once he began. though they softened when he mentioned how scared octavia was finding him. how terrified the state of him left grant too. brows draw together in shame, he hadn't meant for that. his hand rose, extending to octavia to pull her closer where he'd paced in the grass. "you know that i don't ever mean to scare you..." he apologized in his own way, offering her his smoke as she came closer before addressing grant, "i hear you."

giving nick a small smile, octavia nodded, tucking under his arm briefly as she looked up at him, "yeah i know, of course i know," she told him confidently, taking a slow breath in before, "but do you see this as problem nick...you can't keep going like this. what if you had been dea—...what if you OD?" octavia asked fearfully, a sad frown forming on her lips as she stepped out of his reach.

when octavia refused his smoke and stepped back off to the side of him, he lifted it back to his lips, puffing on it before simply letting it dangle there. "enough, don't be dramatic o," he grumbled. nick got what they were saying in some way. but he'd know if he had a real problem, an unfixable one that he needed their help with. they're concerned, he understands it, but with a shake of his head, nick pushed back. "i dunno that it is guys, look, 'kay i'll admit whatever you think you saw looks fucked up and sure, i probably overdid it today but you need to understand how bad it hurts." nick turned his gaze to grant, fingers pulling the smoke from his mouth, "you're gonna tell me it never took you time to heal after all that? maybe you never got a knife through your nerves in your hands with him but, c'mon man," nick tsked as he brutally asked, knowing from garrett's that he had subjected grant to the same, if not worse torture at times. at that, octavia's questioning gaze turned to grant instead of nick for the first time since stepping outside.

@headstrongblake: grant, octavia & nick. / verse: all american.

"you're right," grant agreed again gently, honey eyes rolling like stormy golden clouds as nick spoke to him, hoping his response would encourage nick to continue, to explain, to get all he needed off his chest, "i don't know what that's like." he watched as nick's hands then trembled as he continued and grant's expression grew grim, nodding slowly. "i can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you nick, i'm sorry," he apologized again because whether nick or octavia would ever openly admit it, what happened to nick was grant's fault. garrett may have been the one to harm nick but it was grant's foolishness, his selfishness, his weakness that caused the domino effect leading to this.

grant's hand dropped from nick as he pushed himself from the wall, stepping to the side as his brother passed him, heading out the bathroom door. he followed a pace behind nick, his outburst still in the forefront of his mind and as octavia questioned nick, his muscles tensed, pausing beside octavia as nick headed deeper into his bedroom. lips quirked in a brief and tense small smile at octavia's quip before they all left the bathroom and he watched the two interact with one another. tension rose through him again as nick first refused before snapping a smoke for octavia to see.

forcing back the mild discomfort cigerettes brought him, grant obliged with nick's request to follow him. lips pressed together firmly at his brothers tone as he directed his words to octavia, dark eyes narrowing as his jaw clenched. "nick.." he began in a gentle warning but let nick continue as he filled grant in on what he had missed. when he had left them all to pick up the pieces after nicks torture. he swallowed thickly as guilt twisted like a blade through his heart, almost unable to meet nicks gaze because of it. grant glanced behind him towards octavia with a softer, apologetic look. no amount of apologies could fix this, could undo what was done.

exiting onto the back patio with nick, grant tucked his hands in his pockets as he sucked in a quiet breath before nick lit his cigarette. he didn't know what else he could say, afraid he would say the wrong thing and set his brother off again. but after a long moment of silence he spoke, hoping to appeal to the love nick has for his sister rather than this disdain that seemed to fester. "even if---even though you two aren't the same," he began, only agreeing with nick if to not anger him before grant could continue speaking, "she loves you nick, and she was terrified when she found you... we both were. no one here is blaming you for this... we just want to help because you deserve it, brother."