#he uses anger almost as ​a coping mechanism if you will

[signanothername]

Yes boy, fule that rage using that suffocating fear that’s clouding your senses

[risestarkiss]

Being Big Red

Rise Ramblings #312

In “What Was Meant To Be” and “What They Became,” I discuss how the turtles were created by Draxum to be weapons and then how the boys were embraced by Splinter to be a part of the Hamato clan.

I also discussed how Splinter viewed television as a window into his former life. He used television as a means to drown himself in a never-ending cycle of reminiscing the past and mourning his former self.

Splinter’s crushing depression, though never voiced, impacted the turtles’ emotional growth and development. As a result, all four brothers had to cope with their father’s lack of attention and his expectations for their lives in their own way…

However, I believe that no one had more pressure placed on them than Raphael Hamato.

Raphael is naturally easy-going, sweet, fun-loving, and supportive. But, as the oldest/biggest turtle, he became the impromptu leader of their little team by default. Consequently, he takes on several different roles for the sake and well-being of his family.

Their day-to-day training regimen is directed completely by him.

He is the boys' moral compass and who they go to for guidance.

He's the team’s backbone, support, and backup, which often cumulates in him acting as a physical shield when things get rough.

And, most significantly, Raph is the leader even when he himself wants nothing more than to crumble to pieces.

Raph is so physically imposing, strong-willed, and devastatingly kind-hearted that it’s easy to expect these roles from him.

But, Raph is also just a child.

In reality, these roles should never have been Raph’s to bear…

Parentification is a process in which a child or adolescent is forced to act as a parent to their siblings (or to their actual parent) through providing emotional support (Emotional Parentification) or physical support (Instrumental Parentification) in order to maintain the household.

I believe that Raphael was subjected to both, but was especially subjected to the former.

All of the roles described above are the roles of a supportive parent to their children (or Sensei to their students.) To verify this claim, you needn’t look further than the roles that Splinter encompassed in any other iteration.

With Raph, none of this responsibility comes naturally. He has to work hard to live up to the pressures and expectations placed onto him, resulting in a dissonance between his responsibilities and his true nature.

I believe that you can see the evidence of this dissonance in his chosen form of dress.

Have you noticed that when Raph casually dresses himself, he mostly wears white?

Even Donnie picked up on this trend when he chose outfits for his brother in "The Clothes Don't Make The Turtle." (See "The Fashionista" for a full breakdown on Donnie's impeccable fashion sense.✨)

Yet, when Raphael is filling a role, or dressing to impress others, Red is his automatic go-to.

It’s almost as if the title of “The Red One” was not one that he chose, but one that was merely placed onto him.

But I digress...

Raph is able to be a pseudo-parent to his brothers and serves to fill in the gaps that their actual father could not fill. However, with no outlet for his own insecurities, all of that pressure had no relief.

And, if you understand chemistry, pressure, with no release, creates an explosion.

“Acting out” is an unhealthy defense mechanism in which one expresses their unacceptable feelings through physical actions.

In this case, the "unacceptable feeling" is disappointment, not at his brothers, or with his father, or with any external force, but with himself. And with no outlet and with no one to turn to for support, that disappointment turns into red hot anger.

He’s so disappointed with himself, in fact, that he reaches his breaking point.

Then finally, finally, he opens up.

And at long last, he gets the support he so desperately needed.

Thus, he is able to ultimately let it all go...

It's so lovely to see that his family does not disappoint.

○○○○

Next | Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[goldfish-afterhours]

Genshin Characters Apologizing After a Bad Fight

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli x Gn!reader

Type/genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/hurt comfort?

Warnings: Curse words, probably not the healthiest coping mechanisms/apologies

Diluc

His apology comes out strained, as if the words are clinging to the back of his throat

His fists are clenched tight by his side. He prepares himself for you to yell, to scream at him

But you don’t even turn around to look at him

Diluc always saw you as his rock, his lighthouse in the stormy night, the one who keeps him steady as his duties of both vineyard owner and vigilante shake him back and forth like a ragdoll

But right now, it hits him for the first time how small your back is, how human you look

Has he been taking you for granted all this time?

When you don’t respond to his apology, he calls your name, and you finally turn around

His eyes widen when he sees the tears streaming down your face

His heart absolutely breaks. How could he have made you, his love, his everything, hurt this much?

Before either of you says anything, Diluc flies towards you, cradling your head gently in his arms, as if any slight pressure would cause you to break and shatter like glass

“How pathetic of me to make you cry. I’m so sorry.”

Childe

His heart could rival the weight of the world right now

Childe isn’t used to disappointing others. No, he’s always been the golden boy, the prodigy, the one who sets the bar and breaks it at the same time

So how come you are sitting with your back to him, refusing to say a word?

And why can’t he find it in himself to say something, anything, to make this better?

He is petty person, someone willing to drown an entire city rather than admit defeat. Any word of apology is almost impossible to force out of him.

Instead, he drops a book in front of you. It flips to a random page, and you can see the photos and names of people listed on it

Not unlike a cat bringing their owner a mouse, this was Childe’s form of an apology, even without the actual words being uttered.

“Choose any person from this book. I’ll bring you their head.”

Kaeya

His fingers are restless, constantly scratching the back of his hand or twisting each other

His jaw is clenched, shoulders slumped forwards as he refuses to look you in the eye

“I…I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

You knew that Kaeya had a hard time with apologizing—not because he was arrogant and thought he could do no wrong, but the emotional and physical toll it took on him was great

He often finds himself caught in a dilemma

On one hand, he has a difficult time admitting he is wrong as it forces him into a vulnerable position. To be wrong is shameful, an embarrassment.

On the other hand, he knows he fucked up. And he knows there are only a very few amount of fuck ups people let slide before they get fed up and leave.

And having you leave is not something he can afford

Kaeya’s seen this before. Faced again and again with abandonment, he knows a simple “I’m sorry” is not enough to make most people stay

But it is all he can offer

He prepares himself for the worst, but he was not prepared for the way you gently lifted his chin with your hands, a soft kiss melting away his fears

Zhongli

When you slam the door to your room, Zhongli doesn’t try to stop you

He doesn’t knock on your door, nor does he try to coax you out

He knows your type of anger—it’s like fire, and feeding premature apologies or sweet nothings would only fan the flames

So he sits outside your door until you’re ready to come out

Slips you snacks and books from under your door, in case you get hungry or bored in your anger

When you see the treats and novels slowly appear from under the door, you’re still fuming, but it’s difficult to be furious knowing your thoughtful lover is on the other side, not pushing you to calm down but trying to make you comfortable as you sit with your anger.

When you finally calm down enough to unlock the door and step outside, Zhongli is waiting

There is not a trace of annoyance on his face, but you can tell he relaxes a little from relief that you are willing to come speak with him again

Takes your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze as he apologizes for his behaviour earlier.

“Please accept my apology, my love. I never meant to hurt you.”

[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @heyhihello-4771 @blueberrypancakesworld @codenamekitten @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm @withakindheartx @puduvallee @psychoenergy @chuutzuyu

[multiverse-sparkles]

Your kiss is burning to my skin — S. Rogers and B. Barnes.

summary: steve and bucky break up with you to focus on their relationship. at first, you took the breakup hard. then you took it worse.

pairings: steve x reader x bucky, stucky x reader.

warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, poly.

chapter one

“it has nothing to do with you, doll.” bucky reiterates, tone mellowing into a small hesitant whisper as he sees you flinch at the endearment. “i mean you were wonderful and so lovely; always understanding us, being the pillar for support and providing us, always with positive reinforcements.” steve squeezes his hand as his form of support, as if willing bucky to take strenght from him to continue his words as he stutters.

the tender moment was not missed by your gaze that were intent on the supersoldiers who sat at the sofa infront of you. the parallels already evident; steve and bucky, leaning to eachother for comfort, sitting in one sofa. the only distance in the room were with you and them; sat in the lone one seater, listening with bated breath to their reasons on why they were breaking your heart.

you could guess several other scenarios happening when you returned from the three week mission requiring radio silence; a breakup was not one of them.

you were happy. the last time you saw either of them, you three went on a romantic date followed by a passionate night spent in eachother's loving arms. the next day was a tearful exchange of goodbye's and unwillingness to part; bucky had almost begged to be included, knowing what the mission entailed. steve inteded to be more diplomatic and barter with tony who refused to budge on his stance.

so with a heavy heart, you departed to cold and frigid terrorist base along with natasha and sam, throwing yourself into your duties in order to come home soonest. even with the support and extensive planning aswell as research, it still took a considerable amount of time.

but not enough for a drastic change of heart— or so you thought.

the steely and determined gaze to steve, the way bucky could look at you in the eyes despite shifting in his seat; they were fucking serious. and intent on expressing their disatisfaction with your current arrangement. one that was implicitly expressed as you trek to your floor, and sat you down after an almost hostile welcome.

“this hurts us more than you.” bucky exhales, looking at steve.

“i doubt it.” the first words you spoke amid all these crazy tirade sounded weak, from disuse and the emotions welling up in your throat. “but please, by all means, don't let me interrupt. why now?”

“we have been talking and spending time with eachother.. unconsciously, we thought about... how we missed it when it was just us.”

you flinch. again. in the field you were almost fearless, and not even a flying knife can make you swerve— you'd catch the weapon whizing to the air with precise movements. turns out, words indeed cut deeper.

but all the more of the implication that it had been them first; and the way it sounded, you were an unwelcomed participant into the special connection they shared.

“but this is not to say we don't value you.” steve intones. “we do. you have to know that. you're special in your own way, but bucky and i have something deeper than just flesh.”

you bite your tongue to refrain from lashing out. as a coping mechanism, you entertain the anger for his fucking audacity. letting the rage simmer under the blank farce you currently wear.

“we just hope, we can focus on eachother more.” steve elaborates, tensing the slightest at your emotionless response. to be frank, both men were ready for a fight, for you to scream and be hysterical. but you were surprisingly calm and collected. which made both uneasy.

“we just want to fall inlove again, without worrying about, others.” he refers you as others now. “could be permanent, could be a thought in passing.” bucky says. “the only thing we're certain about is a break.” he evasively looks away.

“i guess what bucky and i are trying to say is that, we want more from eachother, and there are certain deeper connections that we can't sustain in a three-way relationship.” steve informs you.

“i respect that.” you run your clammy hands on your tactical gear, they couldn't wait until you were dressed and atleast fed before shoving flowery words on your throat. “but if you're breaking up with me, say it bluntly; tell me honestly, tell it in words i understand- you were a good lay but it's actually eachother we love.” you enunciate the word slowly, “and don't delude me with kind words, when i know you're going to dangle the very statements you spewed over my head, most likely in days when you're fucked up or too lonely for eachother. i will not be tripped into your bed ever again.”

you despised the words as soon as they left your mouth; the statements only providing to fuel your deepest insecurity. and it was unfair to both of them, you knew it was.

steve and bucky looked visibly wretched by your words, yet you ignore it, telling yourself to get used to not caring about either of them.

“doll”

“darling”

“don't fucking call me that.” you hiss, both men still in their seat. “we're done.” gathering whatever was left of your dignity, you trudge to the doors and out of their lives.

the door closed behind you, your own apartment looking stale as opposed to the home you have built with steve and bucky; you barely stayed here anyways, but kept it for storage reasons. it still had stark's touch, feeling more like a hotel penthouse, appearing cold and detatched.

you slide down against the door weakly, losing the false bravado infront of your ex lovers. as if a child, you hug your knees to your chest, sobbing into it unbashedly.

three years all down the drain. and they talked about it as if it were a skin deep connection, downplaying every single moment; in tenderness, in affection, in tears and the joy.

you didn't lie down with them in their bed as an extension, as a woman that can be tossed in passing.

you didn't hold them gently in your arms, and provided the warmth the world has chosen to keep from them just to be a stranger.

you didn't whisper words of comfort in their ears, in the middle of the night when the nightmares became too much to handle, just to be someone shallow and unimportant in their lives.

most importantly, you didn't love them to be hurt like this.

the pain cuts deep in your heart, like a throbbing wound, one you feel physically; one that leaves you gasping for breath, a hand held above your heart, feeling as if you could die. your chest tight, your throat welling up, you struggle to remain above ground, eyes darting around the room to keep in the moment- fuck, you were having a panic attack.

you despised when that happens. hated the sheer fact that you would allow yourself to be vulnerable when there were things that needed to be done; people that need saving, reports to be made, meetings to attend. you led a remotely chaotic life and the only thing that truly anchored you in here, to the now, turned their backs to you.

they no longer want you.

you swallowed heavily, arms instinctively hugging yourself, eyes squinting in an an attempt at concentration; color, you looked at your surroundings, dizzily naming the grey of your couch, the ivory white lamp, the silver and gold of the chandelier. your forehead was beaded with perspiration, breath coming out in shorts despite your attempts at distracting yourself.

“agent y/n, your blood pressure is fluctuating; your heart rate is abnormal which can cause the brain and other ogans to become oxygen deprived. i concluded a physical scan and deduced your emotional distress," FRIDAY “i'm at liberty to ask if i should call captain rogers and sergeant barnes, as they are—”

“no!” you managed to shout between strangled breaths, patting your chest methodolically hoping whatever it was, seemingly dislodged into your airways be cleared.

“agent y/n, in accordance to the tower's protoccol, i am hardwired to inform your immediate contacts of your current state of distress.” her posh voice inserts. and despite yourself, you groan.

“i'm peachy, fri.” you lean your head back to the door, closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. slowly, you were able to calm down enough, “it's probably the best time to change those emergency contacts, aswell. while you're at it, remove the captain and sergeant's access to this floor; both physically and even in information.”

“ofcourse, agent y/n. please state your official badge number and code.” when you answer her, FRIDAY appears to repeat your command before doing what was asked.

“i also elected the sensible decision of reinstating agent romanov as your primary emergency contact. that being said, ms. romanov is on the way to your floor.” FRIDAY disappears before you can scold her, which made you truly contemplate wether she was conscious and, in all actuality sensitive to human emotions.

perhaps, she does have an inkling of human relationships and intense emotions, but that was no longer your concern; considering you have a black widow shaped problem coming your way. and natasha romanov was nothing, if not immensely stubborn and perpetually perceptive. you were several times screwed over.

however, as she appeared in your doorway, the waterworks resumed ten times over, and you were sobbing pathetically in the red head's arms, lamenting your broken heart.

you couldn't remember for how long you've stayed immobile in your room, but it had been several days; perhaps a week or two that you cried your heart out, barely consuming meals unless for sustenance. that in itself seemed like a chore for your aching muscle, your tired and weary bones protesting with every single movements.

this morning though... this morning, it was sunny and bright. you'd opened the curtains with much effort, peering into the bustling city; the skyline providing you with displaced warmth. a few years ago, you'd only ever dreamt about being in new york; and you've lived it. becoming an avenger was also a dream you've worked hard in achieving, and here you are, fighting alongside the heroic and brave on normal tuesdays.

should you allow yourself to wither away in a dark room, heart terribly battered and bruised when the world was set for conquering? well, perhaps it would be insensitive to use the c word; cringing to yourself upon the remembrance of several otherplanetary creatures wreaking havoc on your home planet, like it were a free for all.

you enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin for a few moments, allowing yourself to finally, breathe. you bask in the first time upon weeks that you thought positively for a change; so wreaked from questioning every single thing wrong about you.

for the first time in many days, you took the longest shower in history, setting the temperature just a touch scalding. you cleaned your room, changed the sheets, and donned yourself in a decent jeans and a t-shirt combo. grabbing your purse, and stuffing your phone, wallet and keys along with you, you departed from your room.

on the way to the garage, you texted both wanda and natasha; who have been at your side with the outmost vigor, crying and cursing both the supersoldiers as you wept from your broken heart.

you: mall and galiani's at the grove? :)

wands: yes!! meet you there <3

natty: otw in my sensible shoes.

you smiled softly, thankful for your friends. it may have spread like wildfire among your colleagues in the tower, and the magic six may have taken sides and pointed fingers; but amongst all the drama, you were glad that you had people to count on.

it may take a while for you to feel like yourself again... but you were willing to make it work.

[crees-a]

Super messy sketch because I really REALLY wanna tell you about this AU

Also thanks to @milkyrrr for helping me :>

So. Villainous trio AU is an AU where Eclipse, Jigsaw and Solar are a group of antagonists working together

Solar:

Solar is brain of team, a mechanic with crazy scientist vibes who can spend weeks in his lab working on some weird machines that most likely won’t even work. Sometimes he builds them just to see them blowing up. Something went boom in the kitchen? Don’t worry it’s just Solar making himself some coffee

Solar killed his Moon after numerous threats and abuse and ran away to a different dimension. He still keeps Moon’s hat like a trophy making Eclipse envious

Jigsaw (Ruin):

Self-proclaimed leader of the group who comes up with most plans and ideas. He is also a carrier of the ruin virus and creator of Eclipse. His personality is almost identical to one he had when first appeared in sams

Eclipse:

Eclipse was infected with the ruin virus by Jigsaw which made him more aggressive and uncontrollably violent. I think the next part will explain everything. It’s honestly my favourite thing about this AU

The ruin virus:

I searched what exactly this virus does in sams and found some facts about Ruin’s dimension instead. So I used them to create my version of this virus

The ruin virus makes animatronics much more aggressive and blood-thirsty but also more fragile and quick to break. That’s why infected animatronics need repairs more often than others. However they don’t turn into some brainless zombies. The virus just makes them really hard to cope with emotions, especially anger and intolerant to humans

I also found that animatronics in Ruin’s dimension have their own hierarchy and thought… what if it’s not just a way to organize themselves but an instinct to obey the one who infected them? So Jigsaw being the one who infected Eclipse made a very interesting “master and his servant” connection between them. No that doesn’t mean Eclipse is just some obedient dog now. This means it’s just more likely to see him next to Jigsaw than anyone else. Eclipse has no choice but look after him like a bodyguard because of the virus

Phew I think that’s all for now. You can always ask some questions about this AU if you'd like :D

[h3arts4harry]

-4 times matt calmed you down, 1 time he couldnt-

-

warnings: angst/fluff?, anger issues, violence, small age gap(2 years), swearing idk

nates little sister!reader x matt sturniolo

f!y/n 18 nate 19 matt 20 chris 20 nick 20 ally 19

-

nates little sister y/n struggled massively controlling her temper ever since she was 11. all she had to help her actually calm down was matt, sure she had coping mechanisms given by her therapist but they never really worked. when she wasn't with matt (which was basically never) she would always have her headphones as music was the next best thing to calm her. y/n and matt were always close growing up which led to them to start dating when y/n was 14, nate didn't like the idea at first partly because of it was his best friend and sister, and partly because there was 2 years between them.

-1- matt and i were having a picnic at the beach for our 3 year anniversary before it got rudely interrupted. matt looks over to me and chuckles "what?" i mumble, covering the chocolate covered strawberry in my mouth. "you got chocolate on your face, here" he reveals still chuckling, reaching over wiping away the chocolate sat on the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

THUNK

"ow what the fuck" i yell, lifting my arm to rub the back of my head while turning around to see a group of boys around my age facing us with shocked faces. i quickly stand up grabbing the ball, matt can see the look on my face, and quickly rushes to his feet stepping infront of me, therefore blocking my view of the boys. he places one hand on my wrist, the other on my jawline, gently turning my gaze to meet his. "y/n its okay, they didn't mean it" he whispers so only i can hear, my eyes flicker from the group of boys to matt back and forth, landing on matt. my grip on the ball loosens and matt takes it from my hands, turning and drop kicking the ball away before turning back to me "lets pack this up and go on a drive yea? then we can get some snacks and watch a movie at home?", i wordlessly nod sitting on my ankles and beginning to pack the empty containers, napkins, and leftover food away into the basket.

-2- matt and i are stood by his locker, talking about what classes we have today while he takes his books out and into his bag. "yea so i have maths then-" i say before getting interrupted by being pushed into, i quickly turn to see some girl giving me a dirty look "excuse you bitch" i scoff returning her sour face, "who do you think youre talking to fatass" the blonde walks directly infront of me. "you cunt, if anyones a fatass its you, the corridor is basically empty and you still manage to bump into me?" i spit back almost instantly stepping forward, our faces are centimetres away, before anyone can say anything else matt grabs my hand and pulls me away.

"matt what- get off me" i tug my hand away, "sorry baby but nothing good was going to come out of that" he speaks softly placing his hand onto my waist, i roll my eyes at his statement, hes right, of course hes right, hes never wrong. "hey, look at me" he bluntly directs, to which i listen looking at him "youre okay and that's all that matters to me, not that if you did get into that fight you wouldn't of won, obviously you would've but then the consequences would bite you in the ass and that's my job" he smirks, i playfully hit his chest "matt!"

-3- ally and y/n had been shopping almost all day, as ally was driving them home y/n's phone started to ring. she took it out her hoodie pocket to see matts contact name, she quickly answered it.

"hey baby" "hey matt" "where are you?" "allys driving us home now, we're gonna watch a movie and have a sleepover, if that's okay with you guys obviously" "of course baby, how long until-"

"can you get off the phone already?" ally interrupts matt, "i will just give me a sec, just filling matt in on our plans-" "what you need his permission to see your friends? that's so fucked up y/n, deadass" she deadpans not moving her eyes from the road once, "fuck off ally, its called respect maybe you should get some" i snap back raising the phone back to my ear. "y/n its fine she just cares for you, just calm down how long until youre home?" "like 5 minutes, maybe 10 if this traffic doesn't clear, theres not a lot of traffic but its annoying as fuckk" i drag out "yea i bet, driving in between 5 and 6pm is the worst because everyones going home" "yea, well-" "y/n hurry up and get off the phone, can you not be away from him for 2 seconds oh my fucking god" ally almost yells from next to me.

"shut the fuck up." i yell, taking a deep breath before speaking somewhat calmly "let me out this fucking car i cannot look at you right now." i dont move the phone away from my face so i hear matt saying calming phrases that help my concentrate on what im doing. "no the fuck, im not pulling over, we're almost there" she scoffs, "ALLY LET ME THE FUCK OUT" i yell slamming my hands against the dashboard repeatedly, to which she finally listens pulling off the side of the road, i immediately jump out, grabbing my bags from the backseat slamming the door shut behind me, and begin walking down the street. ally speeds off after yelling "YOURE FUCKING PATHETIC", i raise my phone back to my ear, my voice shakes as i speak up.

"m-matt?" "dont worry baby, im already on my way, where are you" "i-urm im down the street from the gas station" "i can see you"

he pulls up next to me and immediately jumps out rushing over to me. he grabs my bags pushing them into the backseats shutting the door turning to face me before freezing, analysing my shaky breathing, my hands tremors and the fact ive zoned out staring at the ground. he wraps his arms around me pulling me tight into his chest rubbing his hands up and down my arms. "its okay baby, ive got you. youre safe, ive got you." i let out a large breath "im sorry, i completely snapped at her, i-i cant, shes so mad at me" i mumble tears falling down my cheeks. "cmon lets go home" he says opening the passenger door nodding for me to get in.

-4- matt was staying round y/n and nates like he normally does every weekend. as he walked through the front door he heard yelling from upstairs. he placed his bags down and headed upstairs, as he got to the top of the stairs he noticed the yelling coming from nates room. he opened the door to see y/n and nate arguing.

"no cause why the fuck would you take my shit without asking? and then BREAK IT??" i yelled, anger rising through me, my headphones are really important to me, i take them with me everywhere but this morning when i woke up they were gone. "y/n i swear it was an accident, you know larry (their dog) chewed mine, i didn't mean to break them i told you, i was at the gym and they fell off while i was on the treadmill then someone tripped on them" "I DONT GIVE A FUCK NATHAN! YOU KNOW I NEED THEM AND YOU TOOK THEM WITHOUT ASKING! AND NOW THEYRE FUCKING BROKEN!" i step forward, shouting in his face. nate looks behind me, "what the fuck are you looking at?" i say turning to see matt, "hey baby, whats going on?" he asks bringing me into a hug. "nate broke my headphones." i state still very pissed off, matt turns to nate and mouths 'dude cmon' to which nate shrugs guiltily. "its okay, lets go buy you some new ones yea?" matt moves back, rubbing his hands up and down my arms twice before lowering them to engulf my hands in his, i nod. matt starts to walk out, i glare at nate before following out the room.

-the 1 time he couldn't-

the triplets, nate, and i are at some party chris and nate really wanted to go to. "matt im going grab another drink, ill be right back" i say softly kissing his cheek "okay baby" he nods as i walk over to the drinks table. I grab a red cup and start to pour root beer into it when some tall blonde dude stumbles over to me, grabbing my waist "hey pretty lady, u wanna dance" he slurs lifting my chin to look at him, i close my eyes briefly as i take a deep breath, remembering what my therapist said to do to try calm down, as i open my eyes again i reach up my hand pushing him away "no thank you, i have a boyfriend" i try to politely reject him but i can feel my chest tightening and my hand slightly trembling while clutching onto my cup, i look around for matt to see him already making his way over, "cmon baby itll be fun just one dance please baby" he continues to beg "leave me alone" i mumbled, bringing the cup to my lips, "y/n wait dont drink that!" matt yells, i whip my head to face him with furrowed eyebrows, lowering the cup, his face is covered with panic and anger, "matt- what?" "get tf away from her" matt demanded, pushing himself between me and the intoxicated man, "hey man i was just trynna get lucky, you know how it is" the blonde shrugs, chuckling walking back, i snap when i hear his words, everything i was holding in just came rushing out, pushing matt out of the way "who the fuck do you think you are?" i shout pushing his chest back "y/n-" i ignore matt, all i could think about was beating this stupid fuck until he was no longer breathing, "dont fucking touch me you whore" the man says walking closer to me, trying to intimidate me, "aw are you scared little girl?" he mocks noticing my hand tremors, "oh im far from fucking scared you cunt" i yell, before swinging my fist into his face, "you bitch!" he screamed, i say nothing, repeatedly punching into his face, he tries to push me off but he was too drunk of his ass to actually do anything. i tightly hold the collar of his shirt while hitting him again and again, blood falling from his nose and mouth, covering my knuckles.

i dont even realise ive been dragged outside the house until matt whispers in my ear "its okay baby, just calm down" i quickly turn around and before i can even think my fist collides with the side of his face, and when i lift my hand to swing again i feel someone behind me grab my wrist, "y/n stop!" nate yells, i freeze, everything suddenly feels like its spinning, i feel like im running out of air, my entire body shaking. my knees feel weak and buckle from under me, my hands reach up onto my head, fingers twisting in my hair. i cant concentrate on anything but what had just happened. "im so sorry matt im so sorry" i cry, tears run down my cheeks falling onto the ground, my hair becoming a makeshift curtain, hiding me from the outside. i jump a little as i feel arms wrap around me, "its okay baby" i turn into him, gripping his shirt digging my head into the crook of his neck, "im so sorry i didnt mean to hit you i swear" i ramble through sobs, "y/n its okay calm down" i nod pulling myself closer to him, he rubs my back as i try slow my tears.

-bonus - matt pov-

i look up to see nate looking down at us, with worry and guilt all over his face. he mouths to me 'u okay' i give him a small smile before nodding. i see chris and nick run out of the house and down the lawn over to us, they stop next to nate looking down at me and y/n, i hate that she has to go through this, it physically pains me to see how bad she struggles, all i want to do is help her and take it all away. i hear her sniffles dial down, i slightly lean back and move her hair out of her face to see she has fallen asleep in my arms. i look over to nate and my brothers who are talking amongst each other, "yo" i whisper-shout, trying not to wake y/n, they quickly walk over to us "is she okay" nick asks "i think so, shes fallen asleep" i say looking down at her, my eyebrows scrunch a little taking in the saddened expression on her face. i sigh then stand up, picking her up with me, wrapping one arm on her back the other under her butt as her arms and legs hang down, and start walking back to my car. i turn to see nate nick and chris still stood there "are u coming or ubering home?" i ask resulting in them all running over to us and we start walking to the car which i parked like at the end of the street. after like 5 minutes we reach my car and i lay y/n in the backseat, her head on nates lap, her feet on nicks, and chris jumping in the front. i quickly walk over to the drivers seat, hop in and start the car to then drive home

-y/n pov-

i wake up to my head pounding, groaning as i open my eyes to see matt smiling down at me with tired eyes "morning baby", my eyes widen at the bruise covering his eye "oh my god" i breath out bringing my hand over it. "dont worry about it, im fine" he reassures me, his smile not faltering. "im so sorry-" "y/n its okay" he cuts me off, i faintly smile feeling his arms wrap tighter around me pulling me near fully on top of him "hi" i giggle wrapping my arms around his neck pulling myself up a little and kiss the just under the corner of his mouth. as i lay back onto his chest, my phone starts go off with texts, i reach over picking it up watching the screen fill with messages, i frown bringing it closer to my face to read them, "shit" i curse sitting up "what is it" matt asks seeing the look on my face, "someone recorded fucking everything last night, like the whole fucking thing" i yell getting off the bed pacing around the room, "y/n calm down" matt says moving to the edge of the bed next to me, "no i wont calm down i cant calm down, some fucking dick recorded me beating up that guy and then hitting you outside AND THEN posted that shit for fucking EVERYONE to see" i rant, chucking my phone behind matt onto our bed.

-

i havent read this straight through like i normally do so i apologise if its bad💀

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

I LOVE YOU POOKIES

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[sandumilfshou]

still kind of insane to me that people talk shit about jiang cheng without fully understanding what he has been through so lets just understand what his mental state is like BEFORE canon begins:

born via a dysfunctional marriage to be the sect heir

father doesnt care for him, mother expects too much from him/everything he does is not enough

has his three dogs just kicked out randomly with no notice because of some kid he's never heard of by the father who never gave him love and/or attention

said father then favours this kid more than him, to the point that the entire world basically thinks that this kid is biologically your father's son as well, which causes even more family dysfunction

despite this still learns to love this kid as his unofficial brother

works his absolute hardest but is always second-best because his new shixiong is naturally talented

nobody appreciates the hard work he puts in at being second place despite the fact wwx literally doesnt work hard for it

masks his emotions with anger as a coping mechanism to minimise the amount of hurt he feels

ok great so now lets actually take all of the above and apply this mental wellbeing to canon events FROM HIS PERSPECTIVE (keep in mind this is literally what jc is seeing/experiencing because he DOESNT KNOW what the reader knows):

brother is off being the protagonist and getting in trouble and gets their sisters marriage ruined

comes home from a year away and then almost immediately has to go and be a hostage where brother continues his protagonist behaviour

gets trapped and nearly dies in a cave with a 400-year-old monster, is in charge of finding a way out and making sure everyone else escapes

brother and a guy who maybe hates him get stuck behind in the cave so now jiang cheng has to boost it home ON FOOT, without food, to get manpower to rescue them, which takes a minimum of a few days likely without any food or sleep

no appreciation or thanks for doing that since brother was more heroic and killed the 400-year-old monster

gets scolded by his father for being annoyed by this

parents immediately get into another fight about father loving wwx more than jc

because of the above shenanigans their sect is targeted next

tries to defend brother against being whipped to death and/or having his hand cut off by mother

witnesses his entire sect being burned and murdered

loses both his parents

decides to sacrifice himself to save his brother's life, instead of dying he is tortured and has his golden core melted

on top of his inferiority issues, the ONE THING he was expected to do was be the sect leader for the yunmeng jiang. the sect that no longer exists. he is now a sect leader with no sect and no golden core. no shit he wants to mcfuckin die

miraculously gets a new golden core but loses his brother

immediately plunged into a war and he's only like 17

spends 3 months trying to find his brother only for his brother to show up doing the Forbidden Magic and necromancy which is Super Disrespectful in their culture like holy shit what are you doing

brother refuses to use his sword in favour of the Forbidden Magics and kind of keeps undermining jc's orders as sect leader which makes jc look weak in front of all the other sect leaders when he's actively trying to rebuild their sect and be respected as a leader

fights a war for [handwaves] an amount of time, certainly a few years minimum, while watching his brother descend further into Unhealthy Behaviour but brother refuses to do anything or talk about it

ends up lowkey being a war hero

the other three great sects (of which there are now only four) swear brotherhood, leaving out ONLY ymj/jiang cheng, which, what the Fuck dude

is now a teenager who has lost his parents who now has to rebuild his sect from scratch with fuck all money, supplies, and support

brother, who promised to always be at his side helping, is not helping, and in fact is actively just getting drunk and being a nuisance and STILL REFUSING TO SAY WHY

entire cultivation world starts to turn on his brother who is now looking like a loose cannon bc he has Forbidden Magics that are Terrifyingly Powerful and also it has been proven that he does not give a fuck about jc's opinion since he's constantly doing whatever the fuck he wants

literally out of nowhere said brother decides to piss off everyone, start fights, and then KILL JIN GUARDS at a camp and MAKE OFF with like fifty people who are part of the family that he just fought a war against and were responsible for slaughtering his family/sect

go to the terrifying haunted mountain where wwx and the wen remnants are and sees that he's essentially starting a new family with a kid and crops, doesn't seem to care that jiang cheng is still trying to keep the ymj afloat and look like they have any strength

brother is still doing Forbidden Magic and refuses to explain why, and now says he'll secede from the ymj so his bad reputation doesn't reflect on jc like he HASNT BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE TIME

so now shixiong wants to just abandon jc completely after jc has lost his parents, had to rebuild everything from scratch, while ignoring the promise he's made their whole life? ok fuck you

jc also can't defend him in public because that would turn the ymj into a target and please keep in mind he is a teenager who was expected to do this ONE THING by his parents and he has poured his heart and soul and blood and tears into rebuilding the ymj and they are So Vulnerable Right Now

uhhh what the fuck suddenly wwx kills their sister's husband ?? bro what the FUCK?

everyone rallies to go and attack wwx for this and again jc literally cant do anything about it and refusing to go will just make everyone assume he's on wwx's side and their sect can't afford to be attacked rn

bro what the fuck now THEIR SISTER IS DEAD?????

oh even better now said brother is DEAD

jiang cheng literally has NO ONE LEFT. no friends. no family. no parents, no siblings, everyone he knew growing up is dead. its literally just him and his infant nephew, who by the way, is living with the sect who are the most powerful and also most likely to be super fucking shady so jc has to tread very carefully

so jc spends over a decade raising his nephew ALONE while trying to make ymj powerful and also hunting/killing demonic cultivators that now p much only exist bc his brother invented/popularised the technique

oh yeah and also this whole time the guy who maybe hated his brother is now like EVEN colder and more antagonistic towards jc like it was HIS FAULT that wwx is dead? get fucked lan wangji you didnt even like the guy (or if this is cql/untamed canon: you literally did nothing either so where do you get off on acting like you're better than jc)

over a decade passes and suddenly his dead brother is alive again and causing more problems and acting like the things he did were not major contributors towards jc's entire family and sect dying

More Political Drama Happens and jc has to manage it

suddenly its revealed that the guy he's been co-raising his nephew with is the major villain who caused the entire world to turn on wwx in the first place oh and also it turns out that the fucking miraculous core jc has IS HIS BROTHER'S, WHO NEVER SAID ANYTHING, AND THIS IS THE REASON HE STARTED THE FORBIDDEN MAGICS AND STOPPED HELPING AROUND THE SECT, but he didnt even BOTHER to tell jiang cheng about it

by the way did i mention this was done via an entirely unconsented experimental surgery

and now the brother of the doctor who did the unconsented experimental surgery is ?? mad at jiang cheng about it ???? like he was supposed to KNOW ABOUT THIS when wwx was KEEPING IT FROM HIM ON PURPOSE???

and now theyre all nearly dying in this dumbass temple - and the ONE family member jc still has is literally being threatened with a garotte

oh cool now jc's brother is saying forget the past let's just leave it all behind !!! as though THAT ISNT JC'S ENTIRE LIFE AND TRAUMA and the ONE THING he EVER wanted was for him, wwx, and jyl to be alive and happy, and now wwx is saying just forget it! like FUCK YOU???? does jc truly mean NOTHING???????

oh and now his brother is off gallivanting with the guy who hated him - who it turns out doesn't hate him - and now they're getting married

and jiang cheng is meant to just. pretend all of this never happened and live his life normally. while wwx is out there. being happy and married.

like... if you can read all of this and still treat jc like he's the bad guy, i'm sorry, but you have literally zero empathy. dude had it probably more rough than any of the other main ensemble cast, and i am including jgy in that, because jgy Made His Choices. jc literally just had to let things happen around him helplessly

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

AHH HII I DONT KNOW IF YOURE TAKING REQUESTS BUT YOUR 2007 FICS ARE SO 💋😩🤌

i would LOOOOOVVEEEE to see how everything went down when leo actually came back.. would they tell him? would raph continue to do it? would she choose one over the other? AHHH SO MANY POSSIBILITIES if you’re not taking requests ignore this but i would beg you for some closure or just more spicy fics HAHAH🤭

Anger: part 2 (18+) (Angst)

2007!Raphael x reader (a little 2007!Leonardo x reader)

Part 1 / Part 3 Leonardo's Ending Raphael’s Ending

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A/N: Thank you for your request! I’ve been so tempted to continue it, but I wasn’t quite sure how, as I can only see this situation end in a specific way. I decided to go in a third direction, bc let’s face it, everybody has made their own bed in this lol. And bc it is the 2007 TMNT, I’ve allowed myself to go extra angst. Hope you enjoy!💙❤️

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You and Raphael’s sexual relationship has taken a turn in the serious direction, but then an old missed face comes home, stirring up feelings once again, especially anger.

Warning: Sex as a coping mechanism, angry sex, angst, emotional betrayal, swearing, Leo and Raph being horrible brothers to each other, cheating?

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It had been almost a year. A year had passed since Leonardo’s training had ended, yet there was no sight of him. You clearly remembered the night you sat in your window, with a slight hope that Leo would come home. It almost felt wrong to think in such a way, especially after a year of sneaking around with his own brother. You had found Raphael’s pressens comforting, even if most of the time was spent moaning or calling out his name in ecstasy, with your legs spread wide or over his shoulder.

You really liked the time you had spent with Raph, even if he wasn’t much up for talking about emotions. He was there for you, in a way Leo hadn’t been able to in a long time. Yet, when you saw a familiar figure out on your fire escape, during the last hour of Leo’s return day, you were slightly disappointed to see Raphael instead. He too didn’t seem too happy. And that was the moment you realized that Leo most likely wouldn’t come home again.

That night with Raphael was way more passionate than what you had been used to with him. Passionate with an undertone of sadness, but intense. There had been very little dirty talk from Raph, yet his eyes spoke with more emotion than they ever did before. Same with his hips, as they thrusted into you with more focus and intention, instead of his usual rapid angry way.

Raphael stayed that night, like he had done so often up until that point. And as you woke up the next day, and began your obligatory morning sex, a change in your and Raph’s relationship was noted. Though still rough, it was not as hard as usual. Though there was still anger hidden in there somewhere, it was not as prominent as before. Sex between you and Raph was no longer a coping mechanism. It was no longer about the absence of Leo, but just about you and Raphael.

Sex in Leo’s room grew old long ago. After Raph had had you in every possible way on every surface of his older brother's room, it started to move into his own room. The first time he had you on his own bed, he felt like he had won a major victory in a long fought battle. It satisfied him to have your scent spread all over his room, in such a way that Leo had never managed to in his own room. With your legs over his shoulders, his hips pounding into you over and over again, and your hands holding on to him for dear life, he felt like the king of the world. How you would hold onto his head while his tongue was writing his name over your dripping cunt, or the way your mouth felt around his dick and how you worked to make him feel good. It was enough to make any man go mad. And that was almost what Raph did, whenever he sat around, waiting for the perfect moment to jump on you again without, the rest of his family noticing.

When Raph would come back home, after a night of crime fighting as the Nightwatcher, finding you sleeping in his bed. Waiting for him to come back home to you. Waiting for him to hold you tight before giving you yet another earth shattering night to remember. And unlike his brother, Raphael did just that. He came home to you to take care of you, just like Leo never would. Or so he thought.

Leo had to admit that he was slightly fearful as he stepped into the sewers. Even after what April had told him, he still feared the reactions that would come from his family. Would they be angry or would they be happy? He did not know. But the reaction he feared the most was yours. Leo first thought when he came to New York was to go to your place, just to see you again. But remembering how late it was, and not knowing what plans you had the next day, he opted to make his way straight to the sewers.

The first thing that met Leo as he stepped into his old family home, was the sound of his two youngest brother’s snoring. Both Donnie and Mikey sprawled out in front of the TV, pizza boxes laying all around them. Leo smiled at the sight, remembering what April had told him. They had jobs now, however that was possible for two mutant turtles. But because of that they probably needed their sleep, and therefore Leo decided it was best to leave them alone for now.

When Leo first stepped into his room, he was surprised by the smell that met him. The scent of you was very strong, almost jumping at him. Had you been touching yourself in his room? It touched Leo deep. A pang of guilt pinching his heart. But there was another smell. A familiar one, yet he could not place it. It did not seem to fit into his room, and definitely not with the smell of you.

After having placed his things in his room, Leo went down to the dojo. He had a feeling that Master Splinter was up and waiting for him there. So when Leo found his father sitting in the dojo patiently waiting for him, he sat down.

Raphael knew as soon as he walked out of his bedroom. He stopped in his tracks, feeling all sorts of emotions. Happiness, pleasantly surprised, confused, unsure, angry. Leo was home. His big brother was home. The man that had you first was home.

He went to the dojo and peeked through the open doors. The sight of his brother talking to Master Splinter was like a punch to the guts. They were talking like they did any other day, as if Leo hadn’t been gone for two years. Raph did not hear a single word they said. All he could think about was you, and how you would react when you knew Leonardo was back home.

Master Splinter said something, which prompted Leo to turn and look in Raph’s direction. The red clad turtle panicked a bit, not sure what to say. He ended up settling with a simple welcome home and that he was going to bed, before turning and waking up his brothers.

But Raphael did not go to bed. While Master Splinter and his brothers were distracted by Leonardo’s return, Raphael went straight to the apartment he had found himself in more and more often over the past year.

You were sleeping peacefully when Raph came to your bedroom window. If it had been any other night, Raph would have climbed in quietly through your unlocked window, before spooning you in your sleep, waiting for you to wake up. But not that night. Raph had thrown all his quiet skills as a ninja out the door, as he banged your window closed behind him, causing you to stir in your sleep, slowly waking up.

“Raph?”, you asked, rubbing your eyes as the named turtle started taking off his gear, in a way he hadn’t done for a long time.

Raph didn’t answer, but instead he slammed his lips to yours. You moaned out in pleasant confusion as your tongues danced together in your mouth. It had been a long time ago since Raph had been this rough with you, and you could not help but wonder what had caused it. But as he started pulling your underwear off, feeling how wet you already were against his fingers, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure, enjoying this side of Raph you hadn’t seen in a while.

The sex that night was rough. Not unpleasant, but hard. It was like being fucked like the same way Raph used to do it one and a half years ago. Expect he didn’t talk dirty to you like he used to back then. This time he growled more than before, and would bark out  small sentences, such as “take it”, “look at me” and “say my name”. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it, because you did. You had nothing against rough sex, and especially not the way Raph did it, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something had pushed him. The gripe of his hand around your neck as he fucked you sensless, made you think that he wanted people to notice someone had held you down like this. Like he wanted to prove something.

Raph was angry as he slapped your ass during doggy style, bringing his hands down hard against your flesh, one after the other, before grabbing onto your hips and thrusting into you like a drill. But he was not angry at you, but Leo. After all this time, how dared he come home now? After you and him finally were doing a little more than just fucking, he had to come and fuck it up. He just had to come and take you away from him one more time. But Raphael wouldn’t let that happen, especially not now while you were calling out his name, begging him to make you cum, just like you had done so many times before.

After three rounds, you thought that Raph would what had almost become a habit to him. To stay the rest of the night, and leave in the early hours of the morning, before his family would notice he had been gone. But to your surprise, Raph was already putting his gear back on, just as quickly as he had been taking them off.

“Raph?”, you asked, watching him in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing”, he said, tying the knot on his belt. “Absolutely nothing”.

“But that’s not true, is it?”, you asked, getting out of your bed, while he acted like he didn’t hear you. “Somethings going on, isn’t there?”

Raph growled quietly in response, irritated that you could feel his anger. He tried to relax his fists as he turned to you, fighting to keep his expression neutral. “Nothing is going on, (Y/N)”.

But you didn’t buy it. You frowned your eyes, blinking at him a few times, and Raph knew he had no way out of this one.

“You know what? Forget it. It’s not something to bother you with”, he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible, before turning to leave out the window. You called after him as he climbed up the fire escape. You quickly put on a pair of pants before hurrying up after him, your bare feet against the cold metal of the fire espace. He might have been a ninja, but you wouldn’t let him leave so easily. First Leo and now Raph. You couldn’t let it happen again.

You caught up with Raphael on the roof, grabbing onto his arm before he could leave. He looked at your hand on his bicep, almost as if it was hurting. But he did not pull back. Instead he sighed as you continued to ask him.

“Please tell me what is going on, Raph”, you almost begged him, shivering in the cold wind of the New York night. “You can’t just leave like that, not like…” You didn’t get to finish that sentence, before another presence jumped onto the roof. A breath hitched in your throat as you recognized the shape of his face, shell and the katanas strapped onto his back.

Raph’s eyes fell to the ground as he took a long breath in. Of course he had to be here now.

“... Leo?”

Your expression and the way you said his name was almost enough to bring Leo to his knees. Surprise, hurt, sad, confused. You stared at him, wondering if you were dreaming, almost scared to reach out to him. Leo could only imagine how confused you must be at that moment. It hurt him, and it hurt him even more to know that he was the reason you felt like that.

“Hey, (Y/N)”.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheek, watching as you let go of his arm and walked to Leo. He had known this would happen. It was like watching the two of you a few years ago. I love with those eyes you and Raph was slowly building up over the days. He almost had what you and Leo had, just so much better. But then Leo had to come and ruin it. Not only did he come back and take you from him, but he just came back like that, leaving Raph feeling even more betrayed by his brother.

Leo opened his arms a little, ready to hug you like he had done so many times before. To comfort you in the way he should have done once his training had finished. Raph looked away, feeling the lump in his throat build up when...

SMACK.

Raph looked up at the sound, staring at the scene in front of him. Leo almost forgot to breathe. Eyes staring off into the distance, his cheek burning with a tingling yet painful sensation. You had just slapped him. Leo looked confused at you, only to be met by your angry expression and your teared up eyes. You wanted to slap him again, feeling all the anger from the unknown that had been building up over the past two years, finally boiling over. But you didn’t. Instead you started yelling, louder than Leo had ever heard you yell before.

“A whole year, Leonardo! A whole fucking year! Half a year without writing, and then you don’t show, and another year later you expect a hug!?”

“I’m- I’m sorry, (Y/N). They needed me, I- I had to”, Leo stammered, not sure what to tell you.

Raph was surprised. He had never heard Leo stammer and never in front of you. The fearless leader never stammered, not even when he was cold. But a slap to the face by you was what did it.

“And you never thought that I needed you?! Leo, I fucking waited for you everday, even after you stopped writing!”

“Like I said, (Y/N); I’m sorry! They- they needed me in the jungle! They were killing people! Innocent people! I- I had to stay there, I couldn’t just let people get killed!”

“And you couldn’t tell me that at least once during a year and a half? Leo, I thought you were dead when you didn’t come home!”

Leo didn’t answer that. Instead his eyes fell to the ground as he felt guilt eat him from the shell up. Why didn’t he write? He wasn’t sure. He did have the time. Was it because he at one point feared that everyday could be his last, or was it because he for a short time felt he did better saving people in the jungle, than he ever did as a leader for his brothers? He did not know. He had totally forgotten about you and how you must have been feeling while he was gone. Leonardo had fucked up big time, thinking he was saving people, all while leaving the girl he used to call his girlfriend alone in the unknown.

“And you!”, you yelled, turning to Raphael, pointing your finger straight at his face. “This is why you were so angry, wasn’t it?! And yet you didn’t tell me?! How long has Leo been home Raphael?! Huh?!”

Raph snatched your finger in the air, his blood boiling with anger. He just had to say it. Especially in front of Leo, now that you had been yelling at him like that. He just had to stump it further into the wound, even if it meant evoking your anger even further.

“As I recall you didn’t seem to mind me doing you angry while Leo was gone”.

Leo snapped his attention straight at Raphael with that comment. Then he realized. That smell in his room. It was Raphael. It was his own brother. His scent mixed with yours all over his room. On every fucking surface. The realization hit him even harder than any of your words had. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it.

“You didn’t”, was all Leo could choke out, feeling his hands shaking.

Raph cured himself and his own anger. He cared for his brother, but his brother never cared for him. Raph’s hurt and insecurities grew stronger than any rational decision he could make up.

“Every night and every day”, Raph said, letting go of you before turning his attention towards his older brother. “Hard and good”. You saw as Leo’s chest moved up and down as his breathing sped up, a fire burning in his eyes. You would be lying if you said it didn’t scare you. Because it did.

“You’re lying”, Leo growled.

“Why would I lie about that? For the same stupid reason you didn’t come home? Because guess what, while you were gone, being a hero in the forest, I took care of her better than you ever did”.

That was what broke Leo. In anger he drew his katanas, not even waiting for his brother to pull out his sai. Raph felt horrible for liking how angry he made Leo. As he dodged his brother's sharp blades, he pulled out his sais, ignoring how you yelled at them to cut it out. The battle that followed was intense, with you yelling at them to stop. But they didn’t. Not until Raph and Leo pinned against the roof.

It was there, staring down at his big brother’s hurt and angry eyes, Raph realized what he was doing. What he had done. Broken his trust with not just you, but his own flesh and blood. And now he was fighting his brother, ignoring the calling of the person he told himself he was doing it for. Just like Leo, he had fucked up. He had fucked up big time.

Raph didn’t know what to do. He was scared. Scared of his own actions against two people he cared for. Therefore he grabbed a hold of his sais and ran. For once he didn’t feel anger, but sadness. And Raph didn’t know what to do with sadness like this, except hiding.

Leo called out for his brother, telling him to call back. Not to fight. No, he knew just as well as Raph that he had fucked up. He had created a burning absence with no closure, and the two of you had found your own way to cope. He was naive to think you would still stick around after a year and a half without a single word.

Anger burns bright and hot, and kept unchecked it will bring down everything around it. And now you, Raph and Leo were all feeling the effects of that burning anger.

[oshinohoshi]

Let's talk about Ai's decision in Ch 154

This is a reaction to some people saying that Ai was stupid in this chapter or that they dislike what this did to her character. I'd like to dig deeper for the sake of organizing my own thoughts on the matter.

This post is long so just skip to the TLDR if you want!

Ch 154's big reveal was that Ai wanted to love Hikaru. She wanted to raise a family with Hikaru but felt that it would be too much of a burden on him because "he was being crushed by the weight of his life" and was "on the verge of breaking." She also acknowledged that he was dependent on her. So she broke up with him in a harsh manner, believing he would be okay once she and her kids were gone.

Let's break this down.

Was Ai stupid for this?

No. Could Hikaru have handled fatherhood at such a young age when he was already suffering from so many emotional wounds? Probably not. It's not inconceivable that starting a family with the girl he loved could be healing, but he couldn't even take care of himself, much less two kids. This was a recipe for disaster.

We could say that the way Ai did it was stupid but I would like to be more generous than that and I'll elaborate below.

Was it unfair of Ai?

I think it was unfair to take the decision of whether he could handle the pregnancy out of Hikaru's hands. That said, if we read this as Ai also recognizing how unhealthy their relationship dynamic was, it's not unfair to end things in part because of that.

Was the way she broke up with him cruel?

Yes, and I'm sure this is why some people feel so negatively about Ai in this chapter. Ai claiming that the product of Hikaru's rape was too much for her led to Hikaru framing Taiki's birth as "something I had done" and stating that Ai leaving him was "only natural."

Still, Ai was not a cruel person. She was gentle and loving but she was also timid. Her coping mechanisms for handling confrontation were to bury her true feelings and put on a suffocating smile. She shouldn't have said what she did, but it was an effective way to make him hate her. She wanted a clean break to free Hikaru from herself and the twins, who she felt were a burden to him. She just didn't have the emotional skillset to handle this correctly.

And she was just a teenager!

As Oscar Wilde wrote, "It is always with the best intentions that the worst work is done." Ai's intentions were kind. Her delivery was almost comically bad.

But why didn't Ai try to get back with Hikaru when she called him or at least try to make amends?

Ai was confused about what love felt like and how to express it. We also don't know how she felt about him almost 4 years later. My take is that by the time she called Hikaru she had moved on from the idea of a romantic relationship but still cared deeply for him.

As for why she never reached out to make amends, Ai does avoidance like she's training to be the avoidance champ of the world. Just look at the short story 45510 where she explains her feelings to her fellow B Komachi members in an unpublished post on their defunct blog. There is also a manga panel showing that Ai had over a hundred unsent text messages. At the time I assumed they were all to the B Komachi girls but some could have been intended for Hikaru.

Ai's regret

Finally, Ai regretted this. Yes, trying to fix it 15 years after the fact is absurdly late, but her heart was in the right place.

TLDR: Ai was just a normal person, as flawed as the rest of us, who experienced hurt, anger, loneliness, and uncertainty. She was misunderstood by everyone around her and commodified by the entertainment industry.

She hurt someone who loved her but it was not out of malice. The extremely poor delivery of the breakup was inevitable given Ai's avoidant tendencies and that she was a teenager. Criticizing Ai without acknowledging everything that led to this point just doesn't sit right with me.

And finally, this panel broke me and I will be suing Akasaka and Mengo for damage to my heart.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Raindrops falling on my Heart ♡

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: Well, if that weren't a shitty couple of weeks 🥲 anyway, I am back! The Leon brainrot has been eating at me for months and I finally caved, have some angst! With a happy ending of course, because I have a fragile little heart :) I have some more Leon in my drafts if y'all are interested ;) Enjoy!

~ Fi 🪻

Warnings: talks of alcohol being used as a coping mechanism, badly written fight, potential ooc Leon

Word count: 1.1k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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"You always do this, Leon!" Your voice echoed through your shared apartment. "You know that it's out of my control" He responded, frustrated. You scoffed. "You were gone for three weeks. Three weeks, Leon!" You yelled, tears stinging in your eyes. "I was sat here, for three goddamn weeks wondering whether you were alive or not. One Text. That is all I ask. 'I'm save' or 'I'm okay' that is all I want. I need to know that you're alright." You pleaded.

He was gone for long periods at a time and you were a nervous wreck, tossing and turning at night, hoping, praying that your lover was alive. It was eating away at you, hearing that knock on the door not knowing whether it was Leon finally coming home or his officials to tell you that he didn't make it. It was agonizing, really.

Leon, who previously had his back turned towards you, turned around. "Sure, just let me tell the bad guys to stop shooting at me so I can text you. Also, have a little more faith in me, you know I wouldn't go down that easy." He spat back. He shook his head, scoffing. Making his way to the door, he grabbed his jacket and keys. "Where are you going?" You asked bitterly. "Bar" he replied coldly. "No, Leon! You don't get to walk away from this. You always do and it's solving absolutely nothi-" you were interrupted by the door slamming in your face.

Hot tears were running down your face. You two fought like this almost everytime he came back after weeks of disappearing. It always ended with Leon threatening to leave for the evening but he never did. Until today. He actually left.

Quiet sobs were escaping your mouth. You clutched your heart with both hands to help soothe the pain. Your Relationship was really put to the test with Leon having such a dangerous job. It was obvious he couldn't just stop the whole mission, but there had to be at least 5 minutes between saving the world and kicking ass where he could let you know that he was alive. Why didn't he understand that you loved him?  Why wouldn't he let you love him? "Stubborn son of Bitch..." you mumbled, tears drying on your cheeks.

Leon angrily stomped out of your apartment building. Having shoved his hands deep into his pockets, he stepped out into the pouring rain. He'd be soaked by the time he got to the local bar but he couldn't care less at the moment. He hated fighting with you, especially over something like this, something you have been over a million times. He kept his head down, the cold rain trickling down his neck into his shirt.

The stores, restaurants and buisnesses that lined the street, cast a bright light onto his face as he looked up, searching for the sign of the bar. He was a regular at this point. Coming in, sitting down at the very back in a cozy corner, and then quietly leaving when he had drunk his anger, frustration and pain away.

Looking around, Leon spotted happy couples roaming the streets on either side. Laughing, holding hands, smiling. It made him sick. How dare they pretend to be perfect when he knows for a fact that they aren't. Every couple fights. How dare they be happy. He shot them a bitter look and went on to get into the warm and dry embrace of the bar.

Reaching for the the door he stopped in his tracks when he heard his name being called.

"Leon.." you spoke, arms wrapped around yourself to keep you warm. "Can we talk? Please?"

He turned to face you. You were soaked. Your wet hair clinging to your forehead and your neck, the flimsy jacket you had grabbed in a rush doing little to keep the pouring rain and cold out. What are you doing here, you're going to get sick was the first thought that popped into his head as he saw you. But he didn't say that.

"What? You come here to yell at me again?" He asked, coldly. You took a couple of steps towards him. "No, I.." you sighed "I love you, Leon. And I care about you. I worry for you. But you just go on your missions thinking you have nothing to lose and no one that cares about you." Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks.

"But I do! I care. You have something to lose. Us. Everything we've been through. Every fight, every sleepless night, every kiss. I just don't understand why you won't you let me love you. You own my heart and take up my every thought. You're the love of my life, Leon. You're my world, my everything. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if anything happened to you. You are loved. I love you. Isn't that enough for you to not storm into every situation recklessly and put your life on the line for-" you were cut off by Leon pressing your head against his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you let all your emotions spill out. Leon stayed quiet as you sobbed into his shirt, your tears mixing with the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart" he whispered, you could hear the tremble in his voice. Pulling away from the embrace, you looked at him, seeing the faintest hint of tears in the corner of his eyes. you reached to his face and cupped his cheek gently.

"You deserve to be loved, Leon. Please understand that. You don't have to earn love or prove yourself worthy of it. Being you is enough. I love you." You sniffled, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. Leon leaned into your touch, placing his hand on yours and pressing it closer to his face. "I-.. Thank you. I love you too. So much." he sighed, a tear escaping his eye.

You gave him a soft, sad smile and carefully brushed the tear aside. "No more fighting, okay?"

"Okay. Let's go home, baby. I think Bingo's on tonight" he grinned at you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. You two walked home in the cold rain, your hand clutched tightly in Leons.

After a much needed hot shower you were now both cuddled up on the couch, watching your favorite show but basically talking and laughing through the whole thing. You'd missed nights like these with Leon, the cuddling, the loving, the talking. You'd grown distant the last couple of months due to the frequent arguments. But now, all was well and you later fell asleep in Leons loving arms.

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[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 7

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

SEVEN: Can't Let Go

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: A week has passed since the argument in the alley, and Reader's hurt has been replaced with a seething anger that leads her to make a spur-of-the-moment decision out of spite. However, her poor choices lead to a potentially dangerous situation.

(PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. This chapter could be triggering for some readers.)

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Coping Mechanisms, Allusions to sex, Threat of dub/non-con sexual situation, Brief Violence - Reader's a scrapper, Threat of violence though not acted upon... yet, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Ngl, this was a bitch to write. I had no less than three other alternative versions of this chapter, before choosing this one, but thankfully had some help along the way. Massive props to @glitterypirateduck for the much-needed advice and input. I ended up leaving the badger out, babe, but I hope you like the chapter, regardless. 😉👍)

[Image via TENOR]

Word Count: 5020

Chapter 7

-

...I ain't tryna find fate, it's too late to save face I can't get away, maybe there's no mistakes

You break me, then I break my rules Last time was the last time too It's fucked up, I know, but I'm still

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you Tell you that I'm sorry, tell me what I gotta do 'Cause I can't let go...

—Post Malone, 'Chemical'

-

The walk to work is nice.

Blue skies and tattered clouds arch overhead, the remnants of puddles from an early morning shower reflecting the first sun you've seen in days. The world smells fresh and green and new, the signs of spring brightening your mood. It makes you feel light, the first time in a week you've felt like lifting your head to look around.

The first time since your fight with Riley.

You push the thought away. You're not going there today. Not again. You worked through the worst of the hurt and disappointment, and now you've settled into a comfortable, quiet fury that you keep wrapped around you like a warm blanket when the chill of loneliness creeps into your bed at night. You don't miss him, you don't want him, and you sure as hell don't need him. He's just one more bitter lesson you've had to learn the hard way. You won't make the same mistake, again.

Well... not again, anyway.

A car beeps its horn behind you, and you glance back to see Jerry Finch, the lorry driver who delivers the kegs to the pub, waving at you from a black sports car. You give a half-hearted smile and wave back, your steps slowing when he steers his car to the curb.

His window rolls down, rap music thumping before he turns it down. Leaning on his arm in the open window, Jerry tips his chin down to look over his aviator sunglasses at you, a smooth half-smile on his lips. "How ya doin', Dee? Headin' to work?"

You nod, stepping closer to his car, trying to ignore the way he looks you up and down before meeting your gaze. He gives you an appreciative smile and ticks his eyebrows up, ever the flirt. You sniff in amusement and squint against the sun to see him better. "Morning, Jer." You nod at his car. "No lorry today. This your day off?"

He gives you a charming, almost boyish smile and nods. "Yeah. Had some business here in the village, though." He glances down towards the pub, then slants his gaze back to you, thumbing at his bottom lip. "I can give ya a lift, if ya like. Goin' that way, anyhow."

You hesitate but then nod in acceptance. It's just an acquaintance from work offering you a ride, nothing wrong with that. He smiles and motions for you to get in, once more letting his eyes wander over your figure while you settle yourself into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt.

"Thank you," you murmur, glancing up at him, then away. Jerry's never been one to hide his interest, taking every opportunity to flirt with you when given half a chance. Of course, it makes you feel good to have a handsome man flirt with you, but it also makes you a little leery, too. You try to be nice, but you don't want to encourage him, something that Fiona fusses about every chance she gets.

"Bloody hell, Dee, give the bloke a chance. He's got a good job, he's good lookin', fit as fuck, an' he's gaggin' t'get with ya. What can it hurt?"

Rationally, you know Fi is right, but you can't help yourself. There's just something about him. You can't put your finger on it but being near him just feels... off. You clear your throat and look out the window, your eyes catching on a dark gray Gladiator parked in front of the Tea Room.

Riley.

You can see him standing inside through the tall Georgian windows, chatting with Margie, the owner. She's handing him a bag and a to-go cup that you know will be filled with English breakfast tea brewed strong, with a splash of milk and two sugars, the way he likes. Your heart squeezes in your chest as you watch him exit the building and get in his truck.

Riley's been avoiding the pub when you're on shift. Fiona says he's been showing up in the evening, sitting in his usual spot while nursing his Dewar's. She also doesn't fail to mention Tessa Harker has been chatting him up quite a bit lately, too. It hurts to hear it, but you only give a tight smile and mutter, "Good for him," much to your friend's irritation.

Fiona and Ollie have both noticed the way you and Riley have been avoiding each other, but apparently Riley has kept mum about the argument, as have you. You had wondered if he would spread word about your other job at the Grind out of spite, but no one has mentioned it so far, and for that you're relieved, but you're still wary of what he might do with the information.

"So, what time ya gettin' off work?"

The question draws your attention back to the big man sitting beside you. Did he notice you staring, you wonder. "Um, I get off work at five."

"Then what?" he persists, and you know where this is going.

You shrug, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. "Then back home, I suppose."

"Come out with me, instead," he suggests, shooting another one of his charming smiles your way. "There's a nice Italian bistro in Blackheath. I deliver to 'em. Nice place, good food."

"Oh, um, well..."

He chuckles and reaches over to pat your knee. "No rush, sweetheart. Got all day t'think it over, yeah?"

Again, the feeling that something is off with him comes to the fore of your brain, but you smile, regardless. "Yeah, sure. I'll... think about it," you reply, knowing your mind is already made up. You just have to think of a nice way to let him down. Again.

Jerry gives your knee another pat, which turns into a sly caress that has you flinching away. He huffs a laugh at your reaction, giving you a playful 'just-kidding' grin, before he lifts his hand and places it back on the wheel. He has big, beefy hands, thick fingers with blunt tips, a working man's hands. You usually find that attractive, have often admired Riley's large hands and long, supple fingers, but for some reason, the sight of Jerry's ham fists curled around the steering wheel makes you feel uncomfortable.

The car comes to a stop in front of the pub, and you're quick to unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. "Thanks for the ride, Jer," you say, one foot already resting on the pavement.

"Think nothin' of it, love. Glad t'give you a ride anytime," he murmurs, suggestion heavy in his tone. He flashes another smile at you, winking again. He does that a lot, and you find it annoying. "I'll stop by later, see if ya want to go out for dinner, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah, sure. Okay."

You get out of his car and sketch a little wave as he pulls away, then turn to head inside the pub, only to come up short. Riley's standing right in front of the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes fixed on Jerry's car, which is now rounding the green.

"Friend o' yers?"

It's the first words he's said to you since last Sunday in the alley, and the way he says it instantly gets your hackles up. You square off with him, casting a disparaging look over him. The proper thing would have been to offer you an apology, but you know better than to expect anything like that from him. Instead, he leads with a question that sounds both accusatory and insulting, all at the same time.

Typical.

"Shouldn't you already know? That's what you're good at, isn't it? Keeping tabs on me?" you snap, glaring at him.

You make a point to bump his shoulder as you pass by him and enter the pub. He's on your heels in an instant, following you through the door, obviously irritated by your response. You ignore him as you round the bar, pulling the strap of your bag over your head before placing it on top of the bar to take out your phone and a paperback.

"Wot? Ya got nothin' else t'say, doll? Tha's not like ya."

Your eyes snap up to glare at him. "Thought we said all that needed to be said last Sunday," you hissed at him, trying to keep your voice down, knowing Ollie would be back in his office.

Simon plants both hands on the bar and leans in, his dark eyes scathing as they pin you to the spot. "I wasn't finished talkin'. It was you that fuckin' ran off," he growls in return, but manages to keep his voice to a low rumble.

Your brows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh! How terribly rude of me. I suppose I should have stood there until you were finished insulting me." Your eyes narrowed as you sneered at him. "Fuck you for that, by the way."

He's wearing his black surgical mask today, so his angry scowl is more evident than usual. He shoves off the bar in a fit of temper, hand coming up to jab a finger at you. "Like I told ya last Sunday, me an' you need t'talk, an' this time yer goin' t'bloody listen to wha—"

Your snort cuts him off. "We have nothing left to discuss. You made your opinion of me quite clear. But hey! At least I know where I stand with you now. Don't worry, though. I'll keep my distance. Wouldn't want to embarrass you by being seen associating with a slag, right?"

"Dammit t'hell, Dee! I never fuckin' called ya that. I never thought that. Would ya just bloody lis—"

"Riley, lad!"

You both turn to see Ollie heading your way, a pleased smile on his face. Shooting Riley one last venomous glare, you turn your back on him and make for the swinging door leading into the kitchen, his frustrated growl giving you a sense of grim satisfaction as you slip through the door. Fuck him. You hope he stays pissed off for the rest of the day.

You can hear the two men talking as you go back to hang up your jacket, eyes wandering over the unused kitchen as you pass through. What you wouldn't give for a kitchen this size, and here this one sits, unused and abandoned. You had mentioned a time or two that adding a small menu would bring in more business, but since the last cook quit, Ollie hasn't been too keen to fire up the kitchen again. It's a pity, really.

"Dee, love."

You glance over your shoulder to see Ollie standing at the service window. "What'cha need, Ol?"

Mind makin' me an' Riley a cuppa an' bringin' 'em to the office?"

You frown, wondering what happened to the tea you had seen Riley with before. You shrug it off and nod. "Sure thing, Ol. Be right out with 'em."

"Thanks, love," he says, rapping his knuckles before disappearing from sight.

You rinse out the electric kettle and fill it with water, then plug it in and switch it on before grabbing three mugs and the tea tin. You consider making Riley's tea wrong, just for spite, but that would be petty, even for you, or as Riley would call it, bratty. You sniff. He's a fuckin' brat. A bratty arsehole.

You scoop instant coffee into your own mug then add the tea bags to the other two cups, before going to the fridge to take out the milk. It's become routine for you to make both men's tea, your hands going through the motions while your thoughts wander back to Jerry and his dinner invitation.

Your first instinct is to turn him down, as you have all his other invitations, but the memory of how pissed Riley looked as he watched the other man drive away gives you pause. He always did eye Jerry with open suspicion, his instant dislike of the other man never something he tried to hide. He's never said why he doesn't like Jerry, but it didn't change the fact that it would probably piss Riley off to learn you were going out to dinner with him.

Maybe you are petty after all, because now your mind has changed. You are going on a dinner date this evening after work.

Setting your mug of coffee in the window to retrieve later, you take the other two mugs with you out of the kitchen. Rounding the bar, you head towards the narrow hallway that leads to the bathrooms and Ollie's office, walking slower to not spill any of their tea. You can hear their voices through the door as you stop to announce your presence. It's Riley who opens the door for you, not bothering to move out of your way as you slide past him with an irritated expression.

"Move, ya big lump," you grumble lowly, which gets a soft sniff of amusement from him. Arsehole.

"Ah, thanks, love," Ollie says, reaching out to take his mug. You set Riley's on the edge of his desk near the old club chair where he always sits. "Mind closin' the door on yer way out?" Ollie asks.

You give a nod, turning around to see that Riley is still standing in your way. You go to step around him, and he steps in your way again. You blow out an aggravated breath and raise your eyes to his, the urge to shove him again making your hands twitch. When he quirks a brow up at you, you grit your teeth and glare at him. Then an idea sparks in your brain. You look back over your shoulder at your boss.

"Say, Ol. Ya mind if I cut out a little early this evening? I've got a dinner date with Jerry the lorry driver."

Ollie nearly chokes on his tea before he manages to get his cup set down on his desk. His sharp eyes dart between you and Riley, an odd expression on his face as he tries to make sense of what's going on. He finally clears his throat and gives a curt nod. "Yeah. Sure, love. No problem."

You give him a sweet smile that turns spiteful when you turn your head back to the man in front of you. "Thanks, Ol," you reply, meeting Riley's furious glare. "Excuse me. Need to get back to work."

You can see his hands balling into fists, and it sends a thrill of sadistic glee through you. You'd rather die than look away from him right now, a smirk appearing when he has to hold his tongue and step aside for you. By the time you reach the hallway and close the door behind you, you're damn near giddy. The smirk on your face grows to a full-on wicked grin by the time you reach the bar again.

Satisfied with the good, hard poke you've just given the proverbial bear, you begin your prep work, humming a catchy pop song under your breath.

-

You manage to avoid any more close interactions with Riley, though he hangs around the bar your entire shift, giving you a baleful glare every time you draw near. You make it a point to ignore him, chatting with the other customers, talking and laughing like you weren't bothered at all by his brooding presence. You see him visibly stiffen when Jerry comes swaggering in, his signature charming smile already in place.

Before he can speak, you step to the bar and offer him a sweet smile. "Hi, Jer. Ollie said I can leave early, so we can go whenever you like."

Jerry can't hide the surprise on his face, but he swiftly recovers as he leans an elbow on the bar to bring his eyes level with yours. "Good. Been thinkin' 'bout it all day," he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You stiffen, discomfited by the look in his eye, but try to hide it by ducking to grab your bag from beneath the bar. When you raise up again, a pleasant smile is plastered on your face. "I just need to grab my jacket and tell Ollie I'm leaving, then we can go."

"'Course, sweetheart," Jer replies, watching you as you round the bar and head for the hallway. He catches Riley staring at him and lifts his brows, giving him a smug little smirk, which you honestly think is stupid of him. Despite Jerry's size, you have no doubt Riley would mop the fucking floor with him. You roll your eyes. Men and their stupid bloody posturing.

The sooner you get this over with, the better. This game is quickly losing its appeal.

-

Jerry offers to take you home to change if you want, but you decline, honestly not comfortable with the idea of bringing him up to your flat. He seems a little perturbed when you turn down his offer but then shrugs and drives to Blackheath, instead.

As he said, the little bistro is nice, the food delicious. The conversation is lackluster, though, but you weren't really expecting much. Beyond talking about himself, Jerry doesn't seem to hold much interest in other topics. Big surprise.

Once you're back in the car, he drapes his arm over your seat and leans in, a sexy smirk on his face. "So, where to next, sweetheart? Your place or mine?"

Your brows shoot up in mild surprise. "I thought this was just dinner," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"

He tips his chin down, giving you a knowing look. "C'mon, Dee. We're both adults here. I've seen how you an' that other barmaid check me out. Not that I'm complainin'." He gives you one of his smarmy winks, and you fight the urge to wrinkle your nose in disdain.

You sniff and give your head a small shake. The audacity of this bloke. Did he honestly think you were just going to drop your knickers because he bought you dinner? "Yeah, I think I'd rather go home by myself. I have work in the morning."

Jerry draws back, blinking. "Are you serious?" When you roll your eyes, he scoffs and tilts his nose up, as if he can't believe you are turning him down. "Whatever. Your loss, sweetheart," he mutters with a slight sneer and starts the car.

The drive back to Banfield is tense and awkward, but you honestly prefer the silence. When Jer finally speaks up, you startle out of your thoughts. "Mind if I take a shortcut?" he asks, his tone off-hand.

You shrug. "Fine with me." If it gets you home quicker, you're all for it.

Yet when he veers off the main road onto a country lane, you frown. You aren't familiar with this particular backroad, but from the direction you're going it doesn't look like you're heading towards home.

"Are you sure this goes to Banfield?"

Jer slants a condescending look at you, a shitty little smirk pulling up a corner of his mouth. "I drive for a livin', sweetheart. Ya really think I'm goin' t'get lost on the way to bloody Banfield?"

Your eyes roll up, but you hold your tongue, yet after another five minutes with nothing even closely resembling civilization in sight, you can't keep quiet. "We should be in Banfield by now. It's just a ten-minute drive from Blackheath. Are you sure you took the right road?" You glance around at the dark, unfamiliar landscape. "I don't even know where the hell we are right now."

"I took the scenic route," Jer drawls, waving a hand. He then drops it on your knee and gives it a squeeze. "Chill out, sweetheart. We'll get there. Eventually."

Apprehension creeps up your spine like the drag of an icy finger. You don't like this. This man, who you really know nothing about, you now realize, is driving you out to the middle of nowhere. "Maybe you should turn around."

Jerry glances over at you again, and this time the look in his eye makes the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Maybe you should try to relax." His hand slides up your leg to grip your thigh. "I'd be happy t'pull over an' help ya with that, sweetheart."

And there it is. The reason for getting you out here alone. You aren't even really surprised, always knowing in the back of your mind that there was something off with him, though you chose to ignore it this time, just to spite Riley.

Hindsight really is a bitch sometimes.

"Jer, I told you I wanted to go home," you murmur, trying to keep your voice low and even.

He huffs, a smug expression on his face. "C'mon, Dee. Stop playin' hard t'get. It's jus' me an' you now. Your boyfriend doesn't have t'know. I can keep my mouth shut. It'll be our little secret, yeah?"

"My boyfriend?" you blurt out, confused.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, right. Sorry. Your friend," he sneers and then scoffs. "Don't act like ya don't know who I'm talkin' 'bout. That scarred up freak with the mask who's always up yer arse."

"What the fuck did you just say?" you choke out, fury strangling your voice. You're ready to claw out his eyes for what he said about Riley.

Jerry waves a dismissive hand at you. "Enough with the games, Dee. I know ya only went out with me t'make him jealous, an' I'm fine with that, really, but don't ya think I deserve some sort of... ya know, compensation for playin' along?"

Rage consumes you, hot and prickling beneath your skin. "Take me home. Now!"

The cold, flat look in his eye chills you to the bone. "Not 'til I get what ya owe me, sweetheart. Don't look so offended. I doubt this is the first time you've paid up for somethin' by lyin' on your back."

The hard slap you deliver to his smug face has him swerving across the narrow road before he slams on the brakes, sluing the car around in the loose gravel. You only manage to free your seatbelt before he grabs you.

"Are ya fuckin' crazy, ya bitch?" he yells in your face, shaking you hard as he shoves you back against your door. "Ya could'a killed us!"

You jab your thumb in his eye for his trouble. He bellows in pain, releasing you to clutch at his face, freeing you to reach behind your back to paw at the latch. The door flies open under your weight and dumps you out backwards onto the gravel. When his hand seizes your ankle in a crushing grip, you frantically kick out with your other foot. Though you're unable to see from your position on the ground, you revel in a brief moment of satisfaction when you feel it make solid contact with his head, and he yells in pain again. Yanking your legs free of the car, you scramble to your feet, snatching your bag from the ground as you sprint for the woods.

Too terrified to look back, you run headlong into the tree line. You stumble through the undergrowth, feeling the spindly branches and thorns tear at your clothes and snag in your hair as it rakes bloody scratches into your exposed skin. You trip over tree roots and stub your toes on stones hidden beneath the moldering ground cover of dead leaves. All the while, Jerry is bellowing like an enraged bull as he thrashes through the foliage somewhere behind you, shouting threats and curses at you the whole time.

When you inevitably fall flat on your face, you skid across the forest floor to hitch up at the base of a huge oak. You have just enough time to crawl behind its massive trunk before Jerry comes crashing through. When you hear him approach, you clap your hand over your nose and mouth to muffle the sound of your gasping breaths, terrified he will hear you. Your eyes go wide when you see him pass by your hiding spot close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted. Scared beyond reason, you press your back against the rough bark of the oak and pray he doesn't see you when he pans the flashlight on his cell phone around.

A strangled noise issues from his throat before he growls out a frustrated, "Fuuuck!" You can see him pacing back and forth as he rakes his hands through his hair. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was panicking. "Crazy fuckin' bitch," you hear him seethe under his heaving breath, growling again. "Fine, ya stupid cunt!" he shouts at the dark woods, throwing his arms up in the air. "Find yer own way home, then!" He then turns around and stomps back the way he came, still uttering curses.

You don't dare move, not even when the sound of his heavy footfalls fades away. You don't dare move, not even when the only thing you can hear is the wind rattling the tree branches overhead. You don't dare move, not until you at last hear the distant sound of a car motor rev to life, the sound gradually diminishing until you can't hear it any longer. It is only then that you are brave enough to slowly stand up on your shaking legs, only to lean once more on the trunk for support as a sob finally tears free from your chest.

You remain that way for several minutes, trying desperately to regain your composure, even as your brain keeps circling around the notion that Jerry's departure is some sort of ruse to lure you back out into the open. It's the idea of spending a cold night alone in the woods that finally has you lifting your head to take in your surroundings and evaluate your situation.

At first glance, it seems pretty dire. You have no idea where you are, you're too scared to venture back onto road for fear of Jerry lying in wait somewhere, and it's pitch dark out tonight, not even the wan light of the moon visible in the overcast sky to help guide you through the woods.

Your only real option is to call for help.

Reaching into your bag, you take out your phone, cursing under your breath when you drop it due to your trembling hands. The glow of the screen is a small comfort as you unlock your phone and open your contacts list. You stare at the emergency number, finger hovering.

If you call the police, there will have to be a report filed, and then there will be an inquiry to investigate your claims. You already know it will be your word against Jerry's. His solicitors will no doubt drag your name through the mud to discredit you, and he will probably still get off with nothing more than a light slap on the wrist, if he even gets that, because he actually didn't do anything to you, at least not physically. Hell, you had done more damage to him than he had to you. He could claim you attacked him, and he wouldn't even be lying.

You look back down at your phone, one name standing out like a beacon in the dark. When you see that name, you think of home, of safety, the two things you want most right now. You select it and hit the call button, holding the phone up to your ear and praying there will be an answer. Your breath catches in your throat when you hear the line connect.

"Whad'ya want, Dee?" a gravelly, annoyed voice growls into your ear, and a sob escapes your throat, you are so relieved to hear him.

"Ruh... Riley? P-Please, Ri... please. I n-need you..."

-

No one in the White Dog knew what to think when the usually quiet giant that sat at the end of the bar suddenly erupted out of his seat, the bar chair toppling over. "Doll! What's wrong? Where are ya?" he barks into his phone.

He apparently doesn't like what he hears.

"He fuckin' did what?! " he growls, a look of pure murderous rage igniting in his dark eyes. As he listens to you, however, his rage is tempered by his troubled concern. "Are ya hurt, love? I swear t'God if he―" His hand clenches into a trembling fist, even though his voice is now a low rumble. "Please don't cry, love. I know, I know, but I'll find ya. Ya know I will. I'm on my way right now. Just... keep yer phone on for me, yeah?"

He's already making for the entrance as he says this, the murderous look returning as he mutters, "I'll kill that bastard," before he barges through the door. He hits it with such force, it slams into the outside wall hard enough to shatter the frosted safety glass. He doesn't even acknowledge it as he runs to his truck and tears off down the street with a bark of tires the next instant, leaving a silent pub full of stunned onlookers in his wake.

-

Prev. >> Next

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Taglist: @stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

[ateriblewriter]

Unacceptable (j.h)

a/n: requested! Thanks for the request hon. I’m not sure how I feel about how this turned out. But I have three more requests, but if anyone wants anything please ask. I’m not afraid to take a stab at things.

Warnings: indications of self harm and scars, mentions of anxiety, anger?, coping mechanisms

Enjoy

“You ready babe?” Jack wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder. You had been looking at yourself in the mirror for a while now staring at the flaws that adorned your arms and legs. Many of them had faded over the years, some covered up with butterfly tattoos, yet the more prominent ones were still visible. Especially in the summer sun.

“Do you think they’ll notice?” You thought out loud, completely ignoring your boyfriend’s question. You normally didn’t care what people thought of the marks, but this was Jack’s family who would be seeing them for the first time. Their opinions of you mattered more than they should.

“No. don’t think they will. And if they do, you don’t have to say anything, it’s none of their business.” Jack traced over one of the butterflies on your forearm, trying to reassure you that you had nothing to worry about. Typically any soft touch like that over the tattoo was comfort for you. After all that’s one of the reasons you got them. But today the simple gesture wasn’t helping soothe your anxieties. Maybe you should bring along some clothing that covers the imperfections a little more. You didn’t want Jack’s family to feel uncomfortable around when they were just trying to get to know you better.

“Hey. Deep breaths. Five,” Jack turned you around to face him. You nod and start to list five things you could see around you.

The bathroom door, blue and white tiles on the floor, your makeup spread around the sink, the shower, towels piling up on the floor.

“Good. Four.” The cold tile on the floor, Jack’s hands, your clothing, the fly that just landed on your shoulder.

“Three.” Jack’s calm voice, the beat of his heart, his brother’s laughing about something in the distance.

“Two” The smell of home on your clothing, a bottle of Jack’s cologne sitting on the counter

“Almost there, One” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. The taste of your chapstick on your lips.

“Everything will be alright. We’ll put another pair of clothing in your bag, if you need them.” Your boyfriend spoke in a soft quiet voice, trying to bargain with the anxiety swirling around in your mind.

Everything will be alright. They’re not going to care and the four of you are going to have a great day. You kept repeating to yourself as Jack took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.. Who cares what they think anyways, you’re not that person anymore. You are better in a lot of ways. Of course you had your days where nothing was going right and you would have a bit of a meltdown. But Jack was always there to help you through it.

“Oh my god. What is taking you guys so long?” Luke barged into the room. He had lost at rock paper scissors and was sent by Quinn to retrieve the couple. He must have spooked the couple, they had a look on their faces like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been, but at the same they weren’t doing anything. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes you are. Y/N was just about to give me a makeover.” Jack thought on feet, grabbing one of your eyeshadow palettes. “What color do you think I should use Y/N?”

“Hhmm. Red. Definitely red.” You laughed, grabbing a brush and the makeup back from Jack. “Do you want in on this action Lukey?”

Luke was at a loss for words as you could feel his gaze moving up and from your arms to your thighs. Your smile left your face as you Instinctively you try to pull down your non-existent sleeves. Panicking, you look to Jack who gives you an encouraging little nod. Breath. Everything will be okay.

The rest of the day went rather smoothly in your mind but there were times that were more awkward. Luke must have mentioned something about the marks on your body to the rest of his family because when you were lounging in the sun you could feel their stares, and every now and then quiet whispers could be heard as well. Some were just in your head, others were spoken out loud barely audible between Jack’s brothers. It was hard trying to ignore everything and make the most of the trip with your boyfriend. Everything came to head at fire that night.

You were is the house with Ellen and Jack was outside with the boys.

“Honey, you know there is help out there.” Ellen mentioned nonchalantly as you helped her finish cleaning up from dinner. You were almost done when the comment caught you off guard.

Words escaped you as you couldn’t figure a way to tell her that you did get help. You were recovering. A pit of shame formed in your stomach as you shut down. A million thought ran in and out your brain as she continued to lecture you about getting help. It was getting too much to handle. You tried to remember to breath. But breaths kept escaping and not coming back in return. You needed to get away from here.

“Y/N? Where are you going?” You walked away from her to the room that you shared with Jack. Locking the door behind you, you started to panic again. The looks, the words, the anxiety, the mistakes, it was all coming back to you, You needed to find some sort of release. The answer you were looking for was in a bag in the bathroom.

“So what’s the story with Y/N’s scars?” Luke blurted out when he thought Y/N was far enough away from the fire.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Jack nearly shouted at his little brother. He was always a pretty calm person, but when it came to Y/N he was a bit more over protective. He knew what she went through and wanted to make her safe from the scrutiny of other people, especially those in his own family.

“It's just a question Jack, calm down. I want to know too.” Quinn wanted to diffuse the scene but was curious himself. He was surprised that Luke had the gumption to do so. “The butterfly tats have something to do with it, right?”

“It’s not my story to tell. And Y/N doesn’t have to tell you guys anything.” Jack wanted so badly in that moment to hit his brothers like he used to when he was younger, but with his dad there it would probably cause more problems than solve any. They had been acting weird all day around his girlfriend, like she was possibly going to break at the slight notion. He was sick of it.

“The way you have been treating her all day is unacceptable. Don’t think she hasn’t seen the staring and heard the whispers. She notices things, she’s not stupid.” If he noticed how his family was treating you, then you definitely did. It wasn’t okay. “You guys have been judging her before you even got to know her.”

“Mom, where's Y/N? I thought she was with you.” Jack furrowed his brows when his mother arrived at the scene without you. His mother shrugged not wanting to talk about the little conversation she had been trying to have with you before you wandered away. “Mom, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! She just walked away. I tried to tell her about different ways she could maybe get some help. And she left me standing there.” Ellen caved and told what she had been lecturing you about.

“What have you done?” He knew you didn’t like what people confronted you about your past problems, especially when you were on your own path of recovery, He could only imagine how this could have set you back. He needed to get to you, make sure you are okay.

Jack raced back to the house to find the door to the bedroom locked. Sniffles could be heard from behind the door. Fuck. What was going on? “Y/N? Babes? Can you open the door?” He asked calmly.

It took you a minute to get over there. At first you didn’t want to. You wanted to be alone. But you figured if you wanted to leave this place, you would need a getaway driver.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” You lifted your red wrist to reveal the hairbinder that you had been snapping against your wrist. It was red and sore, but it was better than certain things you could be doing. “Can we leave now? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Jack agreed with you, maybe sometime away from his family until they could figure out how to behave correctly was needed.

Please let me know what y’all think. Also if you have any thoughts, comments, or complaints. I’d like to know ‘em!

[sammy8d257]

In the Week that Follows - Chap. 2: Day 1 - Cleaning (part 3)

An AvM fanfic Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate Series

Cover Art / Day 0 / Day 1: 1 - 2 - 3 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7 / Day 8

Chapter Word Count: 4740

Characters: King (He/Him), Purple (They/Them), (Only mentioned but Gold uses They/Them)

CW for this Chapter Part: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Self-Hatred, Minor Swearing, King's Anger Issues, Poor Mental Health, allusions to unhealthy eating habits

[AO3 vers. (Full Chapter)]

(BRO I SWEAR I DID NOT MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER. God I'm just happy its finally out now. I can't believe Day 1 is almost 4x the size of Day 0. alkslgjsdkgdls [head in hands] I hope you guys enjoy this!)

= O = o =

It was a little past 2 pm by the time they both were done eating.

King finished last and took the initiative to add their bowls to the pile in the sink. He made a mental note to rinse off the dishes and throw them into the dishwasher later. Turning back towards the table, King watched Purple place the now empty container back into their pink tote. A satisfied smile was on their face and King could feel it mirrored on his own. 

"Sooo…" Purple glanced back at him as King spoke. "What now?"

"Now?" The younger stick said as they straightened and fully turned to face the other. "Now it's time to do the second part."

King tilted his head in confusion. "Which is?"

"I'm going to help you clean your house."

"Oh," The orange stick paused, the statement not fully registering. "Wait, you are?"

Purple nodded. "Of course. I can't just leave you to clean your entire house by yourself."

And at that, King just nodded. Really, he should have expected this to be Purple's response. With how dedicated they were to helping him, he should have assumed it would also extend towards his home as well. 

"Yeah, okay that's," King stole a glance at the full sink at his back. "That would be nice. Thank you."

A smile so bright, King could have sworn the entire room got lighter, lit Purple's face at his words. After a moment, the younger stick figure coughed into their fist, their expression returning to something more neutral, but King could see the corners of their mouth were turned upwards.

"Right, ahem- So, I was thinking we could start by clearing out the easy stuff first," Purple made a hand wave gesture in the air. "You know, like all those books and stuff on the ground? We should organize those first before we clean anything else."

King nodded slowly as Purple explained their thoughts. Overall, it was a solid plan and a pretty easy one at that. Although the effects of the painkillers have since kicked in, King was still pretty tired and sore from the previous day. And Purple was right. The main room of the house was a mess of failed experiments, boxes, papers, and books. It would need to be cleared out first before any additional cleaning could take place. And really, it wouldn't take that much physical effort to organize through what could be kept and what could be discarded. At most, it would take a bit to gather everything.

With a final nod, King loosely crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "That sounds like a great idea."

Again, a grin broke out on Purple's face and they patted their pink tote once before taking a step towards King.

"Then let's get started."

Armed with a plan, clearing the main room goes incredibly well with various jobs being split between them. While King gathered all the discarded staff prototypes and welding tools, Purple went around the room collecting any easily picked up items. These ranged from small boxes to books to stacks of paper. Luckily for the two of them, objects like the daggers and the welding equipment that were strewn about the floor, were previously stowed away during the time Purple spent under King. The blanket that originally housed the pile of medical supplies was cleared away (King's bed becoming its temporary holding spot) and the piles of metal and books took its place. 

From there, the pair set about organizing through their respective piles. The staffs were sorted into reusable scrap metal, sellable scrap metal, and trash. Although Purple had no knowledge of experience in the field, King occasionally asked their opinion on the viability of some metals. 

"What do you think about this one?"

"Oh! Um, it's a very nice blue color! If you can't reuse it for anything, maybe you can get more for it because it's pretty?"

"Hmm… Probably not, unfortunately. It's painted aluminum. It might not sell as well but it should still be worth something."

Likewise, from their seat on the floor, Purple sorted through the stacks of books King had collected throughout the year. Originally, Purple had planned to just gather all the books and then place them on the bookshelf for future King to sort through, but upon picking up a book with a very clear library sticker along its spine, a separate pile was quickly formed.

King to his credit, looked incredibly embarrassed as Purple held a library copy of Welding for Dummies in the air.

"In my defense, I forgot I went there."

"Uh huh, and how long have you had these for?"

"Uh-"

"King."

"Only a couple of months-"

"King-"

"-to maybe a year?"

"King! That's a really long time!"

"I know! I know! I mean, hopefully if the book is still fine, we can return it and only have to pay the late fees and not the replacement costs!"

"Hmmm… let's just see how many there are."

By the time both of their original piles were gone and sorted, a couple of hours had passed. The afternoon sun still shone through the window casting the room in a warm glow.

King's pile of sellable scrap was not as large in comparison to his other piles of trash and parts that could be reused in future projects. Those piles contained bits of combined metal that King created in his attempts at making the perfect staff, so it made sense why the scrap yards probably wouldn't buy it from them. Though, despite the sellable pile being smaller, King reassured both Purple and himself that it would be enough to sell for a decent sum of money.

On the other side, Purple ended up with a stack of about 9 returnable and two damaged library books (turns out oil and burn marks are hard to get out of paper). Next to it was another stack of books that King owned and two boxes that Purple used to hold all the research paper found in the room. It was decided that the library books needed to be returned regardless of their physical status and to get their fees paid.

The two of them sat back and took a moment to admire their work. 

"Huh, well that wasn't too bad," King remarked, stretching out his back to release some tension. "And it only took us until… 6:30?!"

King's mouth hung open in shock. True to his words, the clock's keys pointed a little past the half hour mark.

"Huh… I guess so," Purple squinted up at the clock before turning towards King. "I'd say it's about dinner time, right?"

The older stick figure blinked, taking a moment to register the other's question before nodding. Despite having eaten hours ago, all the manual labor had worked up an appetite in him. 

Purple tapped their chin. "We already finished all the food I brought. So how about you wash up and I can get started on something to eat?"

A noise of protest sounded from King but was almost immediately shushed as Purple stood up. They had a sheepish look on their face.

"Don't worry about it. I like cooking! Plus uh…" Their eyes landed on King's hands and grimaced. "You've been touching metal for the past few hours. I don't think you should be handling food right now."

An embarrassed blush crept up his cheeks. Lightly, King wiped his hands along the bandages on his stomach, only to wince when it left a coppery brown stain. 

"Ah."

"Yeah…"

"I should probably go clean myself up."

"It would be for the best."

Purple shot him a small smile as King hissed out a breath and stood up. Turning on his heels, King made his way towards the hallway bathroom as Purple headed towards the kitchen. Once again back in the bathroom, the formerly royal stick took a moment to reassess his bandages. Aside from metallic markings along his midsection, the rest of the wraps looked fine. He figured he probably didn't need to change them yet and instead opted to use a slightly damp paper towel to clean up the residue.

He had just finished his clean up when a call caught his attention.

"Hey uh, King? I think there's a problem."

King frowned. He stepped out of the bathroom door to find Purple poking their head out from the living room archway. They looked nervous but also slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong?" King asked. Purple stared at him, eyes narrowed, as he walked down the hall. 

"You don't have any food here," They replied. "Or rather, the only food you have are boxes of instant macaroni and cheese, and ramen packets."

King raised an eyebrow at the younger stick figure's words. "Do you… not like mac and cheese?"

Purple huffed, the frustration growing on their face. "I do, but why are these the only sources of food in your house? You have a half quarter of milk in your fridge but you don't even have any cereal to go with it!"

King shrugged. "I'm not much of a cook." 

And Purple sputtered as he sidestepped them to enter the main room.

In all honesty, King didn't really know why Purple was getting so worked up over this. Sure it wasn't ideal, but food was food. The easier it was to make, the easier it was for King to dedicate more time towards his goals. Though that was in the past, right now he was more focused on just getting something to eat.

From behind, Purple caught up with his walk towards the kitchen and fell in step. "Has that all you've been eating?" They asked quietly. 

King shrugged again, taking a moment to glance back at the other. Their mouth was a hard line. "I also get takeout a lot."

Purple's face pulled into a scowl. 

"What was the last thing you ate?"

King blinked. "Aside from that thing you brought? Um… "

He squinted at the pile of dishes in the sink, trying to remember if the last thing he consumed was cooked or bought. "You know, I don't remember but it was probably ramen."

A hiss of air escaped Purple's mouth as they mumbled something under their breath. After a moment they sighed. "Let's just… order something."

"Alright," King said as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

From one of the drawers, King pulled out various takeout menus. There were menus for pizza, Italian, Mexican, American, and Chinese cuisine, all of which looked worn from use and sporting little golden stars next to specific menu items. He handed them to Purple for them to look over.

"Pick something, I don't really care what you want," he explained, pulling out his phone. "Just let me know what you want and I can order."

The kitchen was quiet after that as Purple shifted over the pamphlets. After a moment, they silently handed the menu for a local Chinese restaurant over to King and told him what they wanted.

One phone call later and an order of vegetable lo mein, sweet and sour chicken, and a side of white rice was set to arrive in 30 minutes. 

With that taken care of, King turned back towards Purple. Said stick figure was staring at his fridge with an unreadable look on their face. The orange stick chewed at the inside of his cheek. Was having an understocked fridge that bad? Sure it wasn't ideal but it never really bothered him. He didn't have time to go to the store that often and he was doing fine eating what he had on hand. Caring about food gets a lot harder when it's only yourself you're caring about.

Still, the stare that Purple gave made him uneasy.

"So… um," King said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let's say that I did have ingredients. What would you have made?"

Purple blinked in surprise. They brought a hand up to their chin and hummed.

"It depends on the type of ingredients you had on hand," King watched as they glanced around the kitchen. "Probably would have made something easy on the stomach. Maybe a soup?"

"Oh! Like that porridge thing you brought for lunch?" King asked. A small smile formed on Purple's face. 

"Lugaw, it's called lugaw. It's a rice porridge dish," They said softly. "My mom used to make it for me whenever I got sick."

"Aw, that's actually really sweet-" And not for the first time today, King felt like ice water was dumped down his back. 

Mom.

He jolted from his spot against the counter. "You're not a desktopper?"

Purple flinched, on guard from the sudden tone change. "What?"

"You're not a desktopper?!" A roaring panic rose in King. "You have a parent?"

"I mean-"

"You were born?!"

Whatever Purple said in reply drowned in the sea of King's racing thoughts. If Purple wasn't a created stick from someone's desktop or from some other media, then that meant they were born. And that meant they had a parent or guardian.

That meant he almost killed someone's kid.

"KING!"

Purple had his arms in a tight grip. They were trying to coax them down from their place at the sides of King's head. Huh, when did they get there…

Just like before, they were gentle in their actions, voice soft and calming even if he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually, panic subsided and all that was left was a hollow numbness in his chest. Purple had settled themself next to him.

"King… are you-" 

[DING DONG]

Two pairs of eyes shot up at the sound of the doorbell.

King startled, moving to push himself off of the counter but Purple shook their head.

"The door, the food-" King rasped. Purple only shook their head harder and pushed him towards a kitchen chair. 

"Sit," They commanded. "I got it. Where's your wallet?"

King gestured towards the main room. "At my desk. Top left drawer."

The younger nodded. "Okay. Stay here. Focus on your breathing. I'll be right back." 

And with that, they turned and hurried out of the kitchen. 

Slumping into his seat, he could hear the faint sounds of Purple talking to the delivery guy. King groaned and buried his head into his hands. His mind was a mess of guilt and embarrassment. Guilt over the thought of nearly inflicting the same lonely torment he endured on to an innocent mother, and embarrassment because what the Flash was wrong with him?

Having the occasional breakdown every couple of weeks (or days) was fine but multiple times in one day? That was absurd. 

Purple probably thinks I'm a nutcase.

He felt pathetic. But before he could spiral further, Purple strode in with a brown paper bag in hand. King lifted his head to watch as they gently placed it on top of the table. They shot him a glance with a question clearly forming on their lips but King paid them no mind. The smell of noodles and chicken was already distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I used one of your 20s. The amount was $18.48. The change was $1.52," Purple quietly said and placed King's wallet within his reach. "You can check to see it's all there." 

He glanced down at it, taking a moment to gauge Purple's own stare, before picking it up and tossing it onto the counter. 

"Thanks," He muttered before turning back to open the bag. The other end of the table was silent as he pulled out the cartons of food and chopsticks. King could feel Purple's eyes on him but he ignored them, instead focusing on arranging the food out on the table. After a moment, he heard Purple sigh and move towards the dish cabinet. 

They arrived with two plates, two forks, and a spoon as King finished opening all the takeout containers. They stuck the forks into the lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, and the spoon into the rice. With that they handed King one of the plates and settled into their seat across the table. 

It was quiet as the two sticks added food to their plates and it stayed quiet as they began to eat. 

King chewed on his chicken as he eyed Purple. The younger stick wasn't looking at him but he could tell that they had something on their mind. He cringed. No doubt Purple was going to ask him about his whole "freakout" over learning they had a parent. He gnawed on his chopstick. He hoped Purple didn't ask him too many questions. Frankly, even he didn't know why he reacted so viscerally and he did not want to explore those feelings at this moment. 

From across the table, Purple took in a breath and King mentally prepared himself for the confrontation.

"Do you know of any places that buy scrap metal?" 

He blinked. That certainly wasn't what he expected Purple to say. Though, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that the topic of conversation was about the future and not the past. If Purple didn't want to bring up what happened in the last half hour then King was more than happy to sweep it under the rug.

King stuck his chopsticks into his noodles, "There's a few places we can head too. Copper and Steel is the closest one but Mety's has better prices." 

Purple nodded. "Which one is closer to the library?"

"None of them are close per say, but C&S is on the same side of town at least," King chewed thoughtfully. "Why? Are you planning on checking some books out?"

"Well no," the younger stick answered. "I just thought that since we'd already be out, we could also get the rest of the errands done at the same time."

King paused, mulling over what Purple suggested. "Hmm… You know, that's not a bad idea. Nice thinking Purple!"

They beamed at him. "Thank you! So it's settled. We'll go to the metal place, the grocery store, and the library."

King nodded along. "Metal, grocery, library… That sounds good- Wait grocery?"

The orange stick looked over to Purple in confusion, second-guessing whether or not he heard them right. Purple, to their credit, held his gaze and blinked almost innocently at him. 

"Well you did say we could go run some errands while out," Purple said nonchalantly. "Wouldn't it also make sense to get some groceries?"

King slowly blinked at Purple, taking in that little bit of sleight of hand. A disbelieving smirk formed on his face.

"You sly little stick," King shook their head and chuckled. "Alright, I get it. I need more food in the house. We'll go get some tomorrow."

The grin sent his way could only be described as self-satisfied as the purple stick hummed and took another bite of noodles. King couldn't help the snort of laughter at the younger's action as he shook his head again and continued to eat.

With plans for the next day sorted, the two started chatting about how to continue cleaning. It was decided that King would work on finding some sort of means of transportation to help carry the metal and books for tomorrow. Once that was done, he'd start sweeping the floors. Purple in the meantime, would focus on putting the remaining books onto King's shelf. After that, they would organize the rest of the papers and miscellaneous boxes on the floor for King to look through in the future.

Over food and conversation, the outburst from before slowly slipped from their minds and neither of them were too sad to see it go.

= O = o =

Nearly half an hour later and their Chinese takeout dinner was done. Just like before, King grabbed the used dishes and placed them into the sink while Purple gathered the leftovers and placed them in the fridge. With their meal complete, they made their way to the main room where King rummaged through his storage closet in search of bags big enough to hold pieces of metal. Purple busied themself with reorganizing medical supplies left out on King's bed. 

By the time King had found a couple of sturdy yard bags, Purple had deposited the various items into one of the empty boxes from the floor. As he approached them, they carefully scooted the newly christened medical box to the head of the bed by the shelf. From there the pair started going about their assigned tasks to tidy up the main room. They worked in a comfortable silence with only the occasional comment or question interrupting their work flow. 

This is nice, King thought to himself. How long had it been since he had another person in his space like this? Sure, Purple was there to help with the Minecraft plan but that felt different. He paused his sweeping to watch them work. 

They were short, a whole head shorter than King and that left them on their tip-toes as they slotted some books back on the top shelf. Despite the inconvenience, Purple had a look of determination on their face. It reminded him so much of the antics Gold would get up to…

A feeling akin to fondness bubbled in King's chest and he shook his head to clear it. He turned back to his broom and he continued sweeping. 

It was nice to have someone around again.

It wasn't until the sound of an alarm broke the quiet within the house, causing King to jump and Purple to scramble for their blaring phone. With a quick tap on the screen, the room fell back into silence.

King shook his head, a hand on his chest. "What was that?"

Purple, with their phone still in hand, blushed and rubbed at the back of their neck.

"It's my bus alarm," They said sheepishly. "It takes about 10 minutes to get to the nearest bus stop so I set it so I'd have enough time to get there." 

"You're leaving?" 

They nodded. "It's already almost 9. I'd like to get some sleep for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Yeah! That's right! You're coming back tomorrow?" Of course they'd be coming back. A few hours ago they made plans to meet back up the next day but that still didn't stop the hopeful lift in King's voice. If Purple noticed it, they didn't say anything.

"Mmhmm. I promised to help you, didn't I?"

"I mean, yes, but-" He stumbled over his words, a previous concern pushed itself to the front of his mind. "But, you also have to help yourself. Or, at least let me help you too."

The younger stick had started gathering their belongings into their pink tote but stilled at his words. Their eyes darted to meet his before darting down towards the medical box. For a moment, King thought they were going to protest like they did before but after a moment, they sighed and reached to pull out a roll of bandages and a bruise cream tube. They tossed those items into their bag.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"So… I'll see you tomorrow then?" A goodbye posed as a question, a small awkward smile formed on King's face. Purple readjusted the strap on their bag and hauled it over their shoulder. 

They locked eyes with King and with a look that could almost be considered fond, replied, "I'll see you in the morning."

Then without a word, Purple turned and left the house, the door closing with a soft click.

A second passed, then two, then three. There King stood, staring at the closed door. Slowly, he turned around to face the rest of the room. It was silent again, but for once, it didn't feel as oppressive as it once did. 

Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the house was clean. Well not clean but it was as organized and tidy as it could be given the circumstances. Maybe it was because of the food King ate. He hadn't eaten that fully in a while. Or maybe it was because he wasn't alone anymore. Sure his house was empty at the moment, but Purple had promised to come back tomorrow morning. Even if they were… weird (and they were, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably assess those comments and actions he had filed away) but their help equaled companionship and who was King to complain?

Whatever the reason was at the moment, it was lost on King as he shuffled quietly towards his bed. The events of the day had well and truly begun to hit him. He was tired but it was a good tired. A satisfied tired. One that reminded him of trips spent camping from years ago.

Dimly, he knew he probably should clean himself up before going to sleep. He needed to brush his teeth, wipe the dust off himself, recheck his bandages…

But as soon as he locked eyes with the bed, he knew what his main priority was.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

= o =

Purple pressed their forehead against the bus's window, its coolness doing wonders for easing the tension in their head. 

They were… content, for lack of a better word. King had a smile on his face when they left so they must have done a good job.

The closest bus stop to their apartment was on West 9th street. Glancing at the screen near the front of the bus, told them they had just turned on off of 5th Avenue. Purple closed their eyes. They had 10 more stops left before they had to get off. 

Today went well. Not as smoothly as they had hoped it would but they were always ready to roll with the punches. Maybe they were just rusty when it came to this type of helping.

9 stops left. 

A series of giggles and poorly hushed laughter brought Purple out of their thoughts. Cracking an eye open, they watched as a group of nicely dressed stick figures passed by their seat and took some of their own seats near the back. They looked to be around Purple's age and were excitedly discussing a new club that opened up. Purple closed their eyes again, letting their chatter fade into the background. 

8 stops left.

King had been right. And that meant Purple had been wrong. But that was fine. Purple was wrong about a lot of things. That just meant they had to try harder to learn what was right for King.

7 stops left.

Today they learned that what they say can come off as condescending, even if that wasn't the original intention. King is more than capable of helping himself. Purple is there to only aid in his recovery and to make things easier. They owed it to him.

6 stops left.

Don't assume to know what's best, even if it worked well with their mother. King is not the same. Similar but not the same. Purple couldn't forget that. 

5 stops left.

One of the stick figures for the group had pulled the cord, signaling for the bus to stop. Purple blinked and watched as they filed excitedly off the bus. One stick, lilac in color, met Purple's gaze. They smiled at them, giving a curious but confused stare back before a friend pulled them towards the nightlife. For one brief moment, Purple felt a pang of jealousy.

4 stops left.

They shook that thought out of their head and refocused their eyes out onto the familiar lamp post lit streets. Going out to "party" was not important. 

3 stops left.

Two old men climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, quietly chatting about their day. Trying to get friends was not important (at least not yet, a smiling green face flashed across the back of their mind).

2 stops left.

A mother cradling a sleeping toddler walked off the bus. The child snuggled closer as the summer air hit their skin. Helping King was important. And by proxy, so was Purple. The bandages felt tight on their skin.

1 stop left.

The tired stick lifted their head from the window. They had a job to do. Nothing else should matter. They just needed to keep their priorities straight.

Purple pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop.

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 7 | Angst With A Happy Ending

falling must feel | @demonmary

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,188 Main Tags/Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Drinking, Comp-Het, Hopeful Ending, Confessions Summary: As soon as the text message was sent, he shoved his phone away, silently vowing to leave it there till morning. While his fingers closed around the second shot glass, he locked eyes with a pretty girl with dark hair. Now this, this was something Dean could do without fucking up.

The Gospel According To Sam Winchester's Wrath | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,725 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Dean Winchester's Season 13 Widower Arc, Post-Episode: s13e01 Lost and Found, Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, Angst, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms Summary: How do you grieve when, for the first time in a long time, it looks like the people you love might not come back? How do you find someone to blame when everyone involved is partially responsible for what went wrong? How do you cope when you have to take care of someone who's always looked after you in the past? How do you manage a massive disaster with no help? (Or: Sam Winchester remembers what it's like to be angry all the time with nothing to swing at, and can't stop thinking about some of Jimmy Novak's last words.)

reasons to leave | @sharkfish

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,381 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern SettingAngst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Vampires, Dean Winchester's Appallingly Low Self-Esteem Summary: Dean’s thinking of ending things. With Cas, that is. This isn’t like the book. It’s not a horror story, unless you know how easily a person can become a house haunted. Unless you know how, eventually, it becomes almost easy to choke down even the sharpest words. Unless you know how it feels for every escape attempt to fail. Unless you know a secret can be as heavy as dread and just as dark. That’s in the past, or maybe the point is that it never will be, not for Dean. He still answers his father’s calls and keeps an extra fridge in his unfinished basement, after all.

when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6,821 Main Tags/Warnings: human castiel, canon divergent, season/series 9 Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.

begin & end there | @sharkfish

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,677 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Catfishing, Online Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Health Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Texting, Loss of Virginity, Fluff Summary: Dean: You’re not who you say you are Cas has always known it might come to this — Dean knowing the pathetic reality of him — and he always knew whatever they were doing couldn’t last. Eventually Dean would see through his excuses. Eventually he would meet someone like James: handsome, successful, confident. Someone that deserves Dean’s attention.

He Used to Be Mine | @kcprexhatespushups-blog

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 8,527 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Human Castiel, Post S15 e20" Carry On, Castiel is not Okay, Castiel Needs a Hug, Sad with a Happy Ending, Greif/Mourning, Orignal Female Character Summary: Castiel never expected to come back, he had resigned himself to staying in The Empty for the rest of time. He had spoken his truth, and those three words saved the world, but more importantly, those three words saved Dean Winchester. Castiel never expected to live in a world where Dean Winchester didn't exist, so when Jack pulled him out, the first words out of his mouth were: Where’s Dean?

Dead Letter Office | @f-able

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Past sex worker dean, canon-compliant child abuse, grieving dean, Summary: Dean writes to Castiel in The Empty.

Raise Me From the Wreck of My Doubt | @aishitara

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,290 Main Tags/Warnings: canon-divergence: season 5, Dean Winchester has self-worth issues, internalized homophobia, brief suicidal ideation, masturbation, rimming, sounding, anal penetration, consentacles, Dean Winchester has nightmares about Hell. Summary: He’s giddy, intoxicated, flushed from head to toe. Soon enough, though, the endorphins fade, and despite the heat of the shower, Dean finds himself shivering. Shame floods him, icy and corrosive. Cas is an *angel.* And yeah, for the most part their methods and motives *suck* for Dean, and who knows what sorta shit Cas had gotten up to with the Host before he went all Fredo Corleone on their asses, but he’s still an angel, still *holy,* and loads better than Dean fucking Winchester, who has gone to actual Hell and unequivocally did not deserve Cas dragging his sorry ass out of it.

Ghost Whisperer | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,166 Main Tags/Warnings: Cas is not really dead, Ghost Cas, Medium Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Touch-Starved Cas, Fluff and Smut, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas Summary: Ever since Castiel fell into a coma for unknown reasons, he hasn’t been able to communicate with anyone. Some new tenants have moved into his apartment, his sister won’t let him move on, and all in all, it seems like the ‘Novak Curse’ has him in its grips. Until he meets a medium, who, as a hunter, is not too fond of ghosts. If Castiel wants his help, he’ll have some serious haunting to do. Falling in love with his hauntee wasn’t part of the plan, but it certainly complicates things.

You Can Start To Make It Better (Beautiful Beautiful Boy) | @heller-castiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 15,940 Main Tags/Warnings: Heaven, Post-Canon, Dean Winchester’s Mommy Issues, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Brief Allusions to Homophobia, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean goes to bed with Cas on the night Jack's finally ready to reform heaven and give up his Godly powers; but before he does, he pulls Dean into heaven to bring someone back, one last time. Or: Dean Winchester works through his mommy issues with some heavenly therapy.

Hope is a living thing | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,547 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Canon divergence, Hopeful ending Summary: Castiel storms the sanitarium ready to die. The last thing he expects to find is hope for a better ending.

the long hill home | @angelcasendgame

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27,017 Main Tags/Warnings: trapped together, purgatory, seemingly unrequited love Summary: Finding themselves stranded in a world of abominations again, after twelve years of being on the precipice of something, Dean finally tells Castiel that he loves him. It should be simple. It isn’t. Castiel knew his deal with the Empty meant he would have to reject happiness. He just didn’t know he would even get the chance at it. ~ Or, under the threat of the Empty’s deal, Castiel is forced to reject Dean’s confession. It’s downhill from there.

The Black Series | @destiel-wings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 28,093 Main Tags/Warnings: angst and romance, post s15e19, fix it, Dean Winchester grieves Castiel, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, Castiel is saved from the Empty, bed sharing, human Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester need to use their words, intimacy Summary: This fic is a two-part series. Since the Empty took Cas, Dean can't sleep in the dark, can't even be in the dark, and he can't see black. That color is a trigger. When Castiel is back, saved from the Empty, he’s scared of the dark, too, and the nightmares won't leave him alone. Dean offers to sleep in the same room and has to deal with his feelings in the process.

Heaven/Hell | @lazarus-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28,623 Main Tags/Warnings: Fallen Angel!Cas, Demon!Dean, alternate canon, fluff and smut, happy ending Summary: Castiel Milton is not well. He can’t be. He keeps hearing the voices of angels in his head and, for a time, they convinced him that Lucifer was about to rise up from Hell and bring about the apocalypse… After a brief stay at the Connor Beverly Behavioral Medical Centre, where he thankfully begins to sort out his delusions, Castiel is brought home by his beloved boyfriend Dean Winchester. He thought things would get better, but the voices won’t stop, and that’s to say nothing about the dreams, or how he occasionally looks at Dean and sees a monster staring back at him.

S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Trespasser | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 28,819 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blood and Gore, Violence, Brainwashing, Recreational Drug Use, Major Character Injury, Strangers to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Identity Issues, Whump, Implied Sexual Content Summary: After Sam Winchester disappears while working with the Peace Corps in Eastern Europe, Dean exhausts every conventional resource trying to figure out where his brother went until an underground online community points him in the direction of the Chernobyl disaster zone in Ukraine. Armed with a list of supplies he needs to pack, a wad of cash, and a weak grip of the Russian language (thanks Sammy), Dean follows the trail there to find his brother and get them both back home safe. When he arrives, his last-minute reading up on the area didn't prepare him for the war zone that he finds… or the terrifying phenomena going on within. A chat with a veteran “stalker” gives him his next clue: he needs to hire a mercenary named Seraph, who’s supposedly a real pro and one of the best at digging up lost things throughout the Zone. Everyone’s heard of this guy, he knows his shit and does a great job, but nobody knows anything about him either, what he’s like or how he came to be what he is. So now Dean has two things he’s looking for, a pile of useless evidence, and a ticking clock over his head: seeing what’s really going on in this nightmarish place, the longer it takes him to find Sam, the less likely he’ll be to find Sam alive.

But Water's Wider | @li-izumi

Rating: Mature Word Count: 29,622 Main Tags/Warnings: Depression, suicide ideation, Castiel Whump, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Post-Season 11 Summary: Without his wings to guide his descent after he was banished by the intruder in the Bunker, Castiel crashes into the ground, leaving his body nearly as broken and bruised as his heart. Only his promise to Dean to protect Sam compels Castiel to stand up again. After days of dragging himself back to the Bunker, Castiel discovers that Sam is all right and Dean is alive! What should be a joyous reunion is marred by Castiel’s self-doubts. If the Winchesters don’t need him, and Heaven doesn’t want him, where does Castiel belong?

The Last Great American Dynasty | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32,333 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Writer Castiel, Handyperson Dean WInchester, Haunted Houses, POV Castiel, Historical References, Unreliable Narrator, Curses and Superstitions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Based on a Taylor Swift Song. Summary: Cas Novak is a famous Sci-Fi and Fantasy writer. His Angelus Series is one of the best known book series in the world. However, he's stuck. His life is in a rut, he can't find the motivation to write, and he needs something different. Despite the reservations of his two closest friends, Cas buys a mansion on the sleepy Rhode Island coast known as Holiday House. Purchasing it sight unseen and with no research, it doesn't take long for Cas to find out that there would be consequences, and benefits, in making the purchase of a lifetime.

Do Unto Others | @envydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 52,025 Main Tags/Warnings: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, hurt!Dean, Hurt!Cas, Slave!Dean, Slave!Cas, Master!Alastair, Dean/Alastair, Cas/Alastair, Coerced Consent, Kidnapping, Attempted Mind Break, Collars, Branding, non consensual tattooing, slavery is illegal, Fucking Machines, breath play, Angst with a Happy Ending, sort of enemies to lovers Summary: Dean has been Alastair's slave—his sweetheart—for nearly five years. It's been a while since things have been bad, he's compliant and does everything that Master asks him to. That is until Master gifts Dean a friend—a pet, his pet—and it starts to go downhill when he learns things about how the world is.

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 64,722 Main Tags/Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Modern!AU, Sex Worker!Castiel, Client Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, BDSM, Sub Dean Winchester, Dom Alastair, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Non-sexual submission Summary: Dean Winchester is a lonely, repressed ad-man whose only vices are his 1967 Chevy Impala and the sex worker he sees every week. When Anael unexpectedly cancels Dean's appointment with her at the Heaven and Hell themed brothel, Dean agrees to make an appointment with another of Heaven's angels. A male angel, who goes by the name 'Castiel', and who unlocks desires in Dean that he thought he had buried deep, deep down. But there is a darker side to Dean: a side that Dean discovers when he ventures down to Hell and meets a demon named Alastair. Will Dean listen to the angel on his shoulder and follow his heart, or will he succumb to the temptation of the demon on his back?

Ignite Your Bones | @angelinthefire

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 67,177 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, top castiel/bottom dean winchester, angel!Cas, canon-typical alcoholism, grief/mourning, depression, suicidal thoughts Summary: Chuck takes the Winchesters up on their offer in 15x19. Dean, Cas, and Jack deal with the fallout for their relationships. It gets worse before it gets better.

Don't Say Gay (in Russia) | @valandrawrites

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 78,567 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Russian Castiel, Foreign Exchange Student, Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Musician Castiel, Pierced Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Protective Bobby Singer, Homophobic Language, homophobic violence, Cultural Differences, Happy Ending Summary: Foreign exchange student Castiel Krushnic arrived in America looking for a clean slate for his senior year, but his host family didn’t even remember he was coming. He resigns himself to another year of isolation, but the green-eyed boy who finally arrives to take him home is as confusing as he is beautiful. Dean Winchester is less than impressed to discover his father had signed them up as a host family and never told him and Sam. Now he has to deal with a grumpy Russian who barely talks, a best friend who isn't speaking to him, a brother full of teenage hormones, and a whole litany of doubt about who he is and what he really wants. It’s going to be a fucking disaster of a senior year. Getting closer to Cas requires that Dean confront his own demons as well as try to heal the physical and invisible wounds the past has inflicted upon the tender heart beneath the hard shell who only ever learned the party line that you Don’t Say Gay in Russia.

The Leap | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 82,932 Main Tags/Warnings: Getting Together, Falling In Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester Summary: 1961: Sixteen years after the end of World War II, Berlin remains occupied by the Allied Forces — America, Britain, France and the Soviet Union. Castiel Krushnic is a police officer in Soviet-occupied East Berlin. He is also gay, in a city where that’s a dangerous thing to be. One night, he meets Dean Winchester, a mechanic from the American sector. Their mutual attraction is instant, and a convenient hookup quickly turns into a passionate love affair that defies all rules and expectations. But Cold War Berlin is a troubled place, and as more and more residents flee Soviet-occupied territory for the West, Castiel’s superiors begin to make plans to build a wall. The wall would cut off East Berlin from the rest of the city — and leave Dean and Castiel on opposite sides.

Any Other Day | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Mature Word Count: 124,676 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Slight Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Domestic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Hurt Castiel, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Wing Kink Summary: Victor just wants to finally enjoy his weekend. But when weird reports of a man in a trench coat having been arrested for murder in some small town in Colorado are coming in and the names of the Winchester brothers are all of a sudden mentioned for the very first time in almost a decade inside the FBI building, Victor needs to kiss his free time goodbye. So instead of spending his days on the couch, eating all the takeout he can find and watching crappy movies, he all at once sees himself confronted with an unstable angel, incapable of controlling his powers, a hunter missing from the scene, nowhere to be found, and the other one worried out of his mind about his family. Yeah, that's not the quiet weekend Victor had been hoping for. At all.

The Evil that Men do | @malicmalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 174,637 Main Tags/Warnings: Past Rape/non con, Non Con elements, Mistaken Identity, Torture, Kidnaping, Consent issues, Stockholm Syndrome, Fear, Guilt, Suicidal thoughts, Past Drug abuse, Homophobia, Unreliable Narrator, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Human AU. Summary: When Dean learns his girlfriend found the man that raped her all those years ago, he is ready to make him feel the exact formation of Dean's knuckles, but Bela had some other ideas in mind. Dean is not what you might call a good guy, but even some things are too much for him. And then the worst thing happens - Dean learns they made a mistake. The guilt will consume him, making him change his foul path, but nothing will ever seem enough, even when he gets a chance for redemption.