#tw past sa

[wastemanjohn]

Title: this be the verse

Link: AO3

Bingo Square Filled: First Kiss

Ship: Dean Winchester/Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester/John Winchester

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence; Rape/Non-Con

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Incest, Anger Issues, Trauma, Violence, Mommy Issues, Daddy Issues, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape/non-con elements, Bunker Era, Nightmares, Dream Sequence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Word Count: 6,827

Summary: There are a lot of things that Dean doesn’t tell Mary about her husband. It’s best that John stays 27 in her head forever, like Hendrix or something, young and beautiful and fucked up in a pretty unremarkable way.

[silver-heller]

Not me imagining that, at first, when Mordecai and Silver nap together, Mordecai let's Silver loop Mordecai's built buckle with Silver's tail to be 100% confident he won't get up to any funny business while Silver is not looking.

Of course he won't, but Mordecai knows it puts Silver at ease, so.

[fcthots]

Can I request 27. "I'm going to carry you, okay?" with an angsty dash of 5. "You don't have anything to be sorry for." please?

You shouldn't have been out.

You should have never left your apartment, especially not in the middle of the night, especially when Jason didn't know you left, but you just wanted to go on a short walk, but one wrong turn turned your short walk into a very long one.

You could hear a few things: the beating of your heart, the sound of your feet hitting the ground as you ran, the sound of their feet running after you, shouting from behind you.

"Get your ass back here or I swear to God, we're gonna fucking kill you!"

Fuck. You just had to go on a walk to clear your head. You just had to get lost. You just had to forget your phone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were running so hard you could barely breathe. You were faster than them, but not by much, and you couldn't keep it up. You were terrified, shaking, slightly crying. You tried screaming, but no one came. You were lost, alone, scared, and being chased. You wished more than anything that you never left your apartment. You wished you just called Jason to calm down, but you didn’t want to bother him. Regret. Regret. Regret.

You've basically run in one big circle, trying to get anywhere near your apartment, but you were so lost. That street sign, though was familiar, but more than that you had passed it before; something else.

Oh.

Oh no.

You knew the name on that street sign because Jason was telling you about it earlier

...in reference to a trafficking case.

Your heart sank. Their footfalls match the erratic beating of your heart. You were tired. You couldn't keep this up forever and they knew the territory. It seemed you were at every disadvantage.

You turned a corner. You had this one chance to lose them. You use all of your remaining energy to run into the gap between the closed down corner store and apartment complex,

and promptly trip on the uneven concrete. Yeah, you pulled something.

And with your absolutely stellar luck, you picked the one alley that was a dead end.

"Fucking finally. Nowhere to run now. I think we should take our time with this one. She made us waste all that time chasing her, what's a little more?"

You open your mouth to beg for your life, but the words won't come out. You try to get up but you collapse again. You use your good leg to move yourself against the wall.

The three men laugh as they slowly approach you, taunting you. They smile and joke at the tears you didn’t notice were falling. You try to think of any possible escape route, but come up empty. One pulls out a gun and you try not to look at it.

"You really thought you could just run away, huh?"

"You can scream as loud as you want. No one is coming."

The third man laughs. "Don't say that. The screaming is fucking annoying."

They get closer to you and you feel the sweat trickle from your hairline.

Everyone's heads turn when there's a loud thud outside the alley.

You aren't exactly focused on it, but it makes them temporarily stop, so you're thankful for it.

"Marcus, go check it out."

"Fuck you. Why do I have to it?"

"Be louder, why don’t you? Quit being a bitch and go."

'Marcus' leaves with a string of curses. The attention is turned back to you again, with impatient smiles and twisted laughter, but not for long.

They make it about two more steps before Marcus yells and there's a crunch and thud.

The two men stop dead in their tracks. Communicating as if with eye contact, one nods, and the other begins to walk slowly along the wall of the alley with his gun raised until he turns the corner. While the first man tries to split his attention between you and his friend, his friend screams.

The last man turns towards you. He rushes forward in an attempt to grab your arm, presumably to drag you, but he never gets that chance.

There is a loud thunk to the back of the man's head before he's on the floor. You look up and see a red helmet.

You don’t think you've ever been happier to see that shiny red.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, I promise. You're safe now."

You try to say his name as he rushes over to you but it comes out as more of a pathetic and terrified whimper.

"Are you hurt?"

You nod your head and watch him freeze.

"Where?"

You drag your leg out from underneath you. He sighs in relief. His shoulders hunch forward, his forehead knocking against yours. He lands a helmet kiss there.

"C'mon. Let's get you home. I'm going to carry you, okay?"

Before you could even think about attempting to reply, he has you scooped up in his arms. He takes a deep breath in and out and locks eyes with you.

"You ok?"

"no fatal injuries"

He hums in acknowledgement. The walk is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t remember most of the walk. The adrenaline wearing off was making you tired, but Jason's silence concerned you. You shouldn't have gone out alone, it was dumb, but you couldn't handle a fight with Jason right now. That's probably why he was being quiet, he mad at you, but knows you don’t wanna fight. He was being so sweet, but to be honest all you wanted was comfort. You can't take him being distant right now.

Fuck it. You can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry."

He stops on the outside of you apartment complex's elevator, moving two look at you.

You open your mouth to speak again but he cuts you off. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Aren't you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you."

"But you're being all silent."

"I thought you'd want space. Do you not?"

"...no... I want comfort..."

"Alright. And I'm not mad at you. Never mad at you. That wasn't your fault, ok? I was brooding just now because I was scared at the thought of losing you. I love you. So much."

"I love you too."

[sweatandwoe]

After reading some Astarion takes, I can say with full certainty, that I would not trust some of you to not slutshame or insult SA victims for having sex

[walpu]

People on tiktok are discussing the possibility of Aven beings SAed and someone said this 💀

Not only this is like. Extremely stupid AND contradicts the lore since by that time Aven's master was already dead (killed by Aven himself mind you) but it's also so disrespectful to his character like the whole point is that he climbed the ranks because he's smart and dedicated and lucky. We literally saw Jade addressing it and taking him under her wing. Like WHAT does that comment even imply??? That his master promoted him, that DIAMOND abused him like what are you people on

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Secrets in the Rain

Summary: Under the boughs of the great tree at Windrise, you and Kaeya share secrets

Word Count: 1201

CW/TW: Mentioned/referenced Sexual assault, hurt/comfort, use of “lady love” as a term of endearment

Kaeya x Fem!reader

A/N: It took a couple years and a lot of editing, but I think this is pretty good. It used to be one of my least favorite fics, but now I think it's worth its salt.

In the Land of the Winds, sheltered by a tree that has seen the passage of ages, you and Kaeya sit side by side.

The silence that hangs between you is broken only by rumbles of thunder and the constant drum of the downpour on the grass around the great oak. 

The longer it lingers, the more oppressive the quiet becomes.

When you had come out here, hoping to find guidance from Mondstadt’s greatest hero, you hadn’t asked your boyfriend of several years to follow. It's not like you mind his company, but the turmoil inside you urges you to send him away.

He shouldn't be here. He'll hate you. Don't let him see just how broken you are.

For a moment you’re reminded of one of Amber’s favorite stories, the one where the birds couldn’t fly until they gathered the courage and took the plunge. Looking at Kaeya, who seems to be waiting for you to speak, you realize that in this situation, you’re going to have to be that little, flightless bird. That somehow, you have to ignore the terrified voice, and take the plunge.

So you speak. “Why did you follow me, Kaeya?”

“Am I not supposed to be concerned about my --”

A crack of thunder obscures the end of this sentence, but you’ve heard his favorite term of endearment enough to fill in the blank.

Most days, the charming “lady love” falling from his lips warms you, even if all you do is blush and roll your eyes. 

Today, however, isn’t one of those days. Today you sigh, closing in you yourself as one hand wraps around the opposing arm.

A drop of rain splashes on your neck, but you pay no mind.

“Don’t call me that, Kaeya. Not right now.”

“Talk to me, Y/n. What are you thinking? You're not supposed to sit under trees in a storm.”

While you bite your lip, unable to answer, Kaeya narrows his eye at you.

He knows you have your secrets. He sees it in the haunted look that you get sometimes, in the nightmares he knows you have but have never let him soothe. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s been waiting. He knows as well as any that when you're ready to speak, you will.

Another crack of lightning sends a pang of loss and frustration through his heart, reminding him of another, similarly miserable day and the vision he received. His vision, Secrets.

Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, not the City of Trade. Contracts are not its value and Rex Lapis not its god, but perhaps one of its precepts could be a solution. A fair trade, one thing for another. A secret for a secret.

All he knows is that if you're going to be hurting, putting yourself in danger to find comfort in solitude, he at least wants to know why.

Kaeya moves closer, not touching you--knowing that at times like this that you don't like touch--but bringing himself close enough that the storm can't swallow his confession.

“I’m from Khaenri’ah.”

The words are soft, but they’re enough to have you staring at him eyes wide and lips parted.

“Kaeya?”

He takes your question as a prompt to continue. “I was abandoned here, left to be a spy for Khaenri’ah, Though… I’m not sure where my loyalties are anymore.

“The Knights, the Winery--even Diluc as much as I hate to admit it--- and most especially my beautiful lady love. But I was raised for this mission, raised to fight against Mondstadt. I try not to think of what would happen if I were forced to choose between the two.”

Kaeya’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for your response.

You rest your hand over his. “Is that why you and Diluc fought?”

“It was poor timing on my part. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“Neither of you are anything less than mule headed. It’s frustrating, but endearing. I'm happy you told me. ”

You hesitate, biting your lip.

As Kaeya had anticipated, knowing his secrets makes it harder for you to bury yours.

It certainly silences the voice inside. After all, how can he run after sharing a secret like his.

"I guess this means I can't withhold my secret from you anymore. I just don’t know how to say it. I almost can't speak of it, and often, I physically can't."

Kaeya remains silent, letting you take your time.

You sigh, roughly, glaring at the ground. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of a way to say something. To tell you. I trust you more than I trust anyone but…”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Exactly.”

Kaeya doesn’t push, his single, star-pupiled eye giving you quiet encouragement. “You don’t have to tell me, y/n. I might have shared with you, hoping you would tell me what you've been thinking, but if you’re not ready to talk, you're not ready to talk. I won't force you.”

You shake your head. “I want to. You trusted me. I want to return that trust.”

Kaeya shifts your hands so that instead of laying one on top of another, your fingers are laced together. “Take your time.”

You inhale, closing your eyes and steeling your resolve. When you open them your gaze falls to your intertwined fingers.

“Do you know why I won't sleep with you?”

“I’ve made a couple guesses.”

Guesses based on your reactions to certain jokes, to bawdy talk at the Angel’s Share, to your reactions any time he tries to initiate anything more than a heated make out session. 

The conclusions he makes are enough to have anger pooling in his gut. But he never pushed, trusting that the truth would come out in due time.

“I should have figured you would. You’re so perspective it’s scary.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I--” You avert your eyes as your throat constricts, trying to stop the words before they can be aired. You force them out anyway. “I had my innocence stolen. A long time ago. It took me a long time to realize what happened, but now that I have? It hurts, Kaeya. It hurts so bad and I don’t know how to fix it. And--And I’ve been scared.”

“Scared?”

Tears slip down your face, mixing with the rain that now soaks you both. 

“Scared that you’ll leave me because of it. Scared that you’ll learn what my nightmares hold and leave me because of it, because I’ll never be fully whole.”

The look in your eyes is so lost, so scared, a polar opposite to the vibrant aura that surrounds you everywhere you go--his heart breaks for you.

Kaeya draws you into his arms, mindful of any negative reaction to his touch.

It’s gratifying when you melt into his embrace.

“I would never leave you over this. You’re my wonderful Y/n, my lady love. I’m here for you. Always.”

His words break through the last of your barriers and a harsh sob tears itself from your throat.

Kaeya whispers soft words of love and comfort as tears join the rainwater soaking his chest,

Under the boughs of Vanessa’s tree, two secret keepers find honesty and the first step to healing. 

Somewhere out there, the Anemo Archon smiles.

[fatuifucker]

tw SA mention

tbh i would rather have minors read my work rather than those coquette smut blogs (not targeting anyone specifically, just in general) that write really ooc drabbles and topics that are basically SA. sometimes it's even blatant SA it's wild that you'd have the reader basically crying and begging the character to stop but the post's theme is just (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[ptsd-phoenix]

your hands held me down while you had your way with me but I will not drown in that past tense misery I am alive and there’s still so much to see I can survive now that I’ve broken free

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

[byrdtrolls]

Tragedy

“You’ll be at the academy?” She says, suddenly, as if this wasn’t part of the plan, fear dancing on her face. “You’ll be looking through the academy records?” 

“I’ll be fine. I can handle my damn self” You insist, know it was coming but bristling anyways. 

“Hanagi” she says, glancing down the hallway, hands gripping her arms nervously. “Let’s call it off. Let’s quit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can’t- just let me do it! This wasn’t the plan” she says. 

“That limeblood you wanted to save so bad is counting on me! I can handle walking around a fleet building. YOU however are supposed to be dead.” You say back. “Your dad will be there the whole time.”

“There’s-“ Monark chokes. Glancing to the side.

“She’s gone,” You say. “She's not gonna hurt you. And she’s not gonna hurt me” You reassure. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she says, wiping her face. 

You stare at the highblood, losing her reasoning. “What are you worried about?” You ask. Bluntly. 

“In those files-Nandors account, there is” She breathes. “Footage of me. And things. You can’t see”

“What things?” You ask. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it” she stutters. “Just let me-“ 

“No, Bee, what THINGS” you hiss. “Because I thought I already knew the worst. Intimately, I thought I knew the worst of you. And there are more THINGS?” You accuse. 

She blinks back tears, unable to meet your eyes.

“Don’t make me say it” she says. 

“I wanna know what I’m getting into” you say stubbornly, brain dancing wildly with images of imagined transgressions bad enough to warrant such a reaction, hemophobia and murder and all manner of fleet awfulness, you wonder for the fiftieth time if you’re doing the right thing by being here. By aligning yourself with her. 

Monark gives a tiny hiccup into her own hand. “Please,” she says. “Please understand. I was so lonely. And young. And afraid. I wanted to be loved. I’d do anything” she sobs. You do not answer. Not ready to offer forgiveness when you’re not yet sure what you’re forgiving. In the ever cascading row of dominos that Twitch Monark was these past few sweeps, what does she consider her ‘first’ transgression?

.

.

.

.

.

She is shaking like a leaf. Quivering like a skeletal, crumbling, ghost of a girl. She does not look you in the eye. She keeps her hands together tightly clasped, like a prayer, or a soldier at attention. Her speech has been rehearsed in the mirror a million times. It does not make it any easier. She has to pause, and start over again, many times during it. Yet somehow manages to slowly move forward, it spilling out like a cracked safe that’s been held so tight to her chest for so long. A secret kept so deep, she had given everything to hide it. 

She had taken it literally to her grave. 

She had let her whole life fall apart to bury this in a locked box in the coffin at the bottom of the sea but whatever she’s trying to keep down isn’t dead yet. It’s knocking on boarded up walls and thrashing in the basement. It could consume her at any moment. It already has. As she speaks, your worries on whether or not she’s changed, whether you were wrong slip from you. 

She is the same girl she ever was. She has been since she was a child. Slowly, Monark tells you- just what exactly Elenor Nandor did to her. 

This is the part where she keeps speaking.

This is the part where I typed a quotation mark, but could not bring myself to actually imagine the words coming out of her mouth. Could not picture these as real sentences, could not make them quotable, could not step that close to this hurt. I hope you can forgive me for the subsequent lack of punctuation. 

She was nice to me, she describes. She told me I was smart. She told me I was strong. She told me I was talented. She gave me privileges the other soldiers didn’t get. She stopped in on my classes. More and more frequently. She called me to her office at odd times of the day. She said she wanted to tutor me privately. She gave me gifts. 

She made things more difficult for me. She said I had to prove myself. She set me up in fights she knew I’d lose. She hurt me. She told me I had beautiful eyes.

Bee describes to you, and your heart sinks into a desolate cavern, imagining what this must have done to the mind of awkward, socially inept Twitch, so desperate to be loved and accepted by her peers. So prone to paranoia and fear. There’s a tiny ringing in the back of your ear. A symphony of alarm bells whirring up at a funerals pace. As she lists through the red flags you can see crystal clear, but that young, naive cadet couldn’t. The pieces of a puzzle you didn’t even know needed solving falling together one by one, with a horrible methodology and precision. This answer is simpler, plainer, and crueler than you could ever imagine. You realize, with dawning horror, you already know it will get worse from here. You didn’t want to believe it could get worse than here. You didn’t want to believe the world could be more selfish and awful and fucked than it already was. 

But sometimes, something ceases to be a metaphor for something, and simply is. 

Sometimes, you start writing a story about yourself, and you do not realize it is a story about yourself, until the very end. 

Bee tells you, in detached, clinical terms, like a state mandated apology, she narrates with no tone in her voice, what Nandor did to her. In her office, in the training rooms, when Peonie left the room. 

And then she told me it was my fault, she says. That I had seduced her and acted inappropriate. That if anyone knew, they would be ashamed of me. That I was awful, and sick, and depraved, and they would blame me if they knew. 

And I believed her.

I wanted to tell someone, she chokes through a veil of tears. I wanted it to stop. 

But I was so scared. 

That I had done something wrong. 

And I didn’t want everyone to hate me. 

And I’m sorry. 

In a move utterly unlike Hanagi Cheong, you grab her by the shoulders, and pull her into a hug. Your powers buzzing with her emotion as her arms close around her, she freezes, and you feel a fraction of the guilt, fear, and shame Monark has been carrying for sweeps, a woman grown up around a knife in her back. You struggle to steady your breathing as the emotion crashes over you, trying to focus, trying not to get lost, in that gargantuan weight. A talisman that could drag you to the bottom of the sea if you let it. 

You tell her, just this once, 

“That’s not your fault” you say. 

“Listen to me- that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You choke. “She was manipulating you, and using you, and trying to keep you quiet, and what she did was unfathomably wrong, and selfish, and cruel, and you didn’t deserve it, do you understand?”

Slowly, she crumples into you, arms raising to hug you back, she cries into your shoulder. Softly, quietly. This tangled knot of distrust, paranoia, and self hatred, the marked scars of carrying this alone for so long are fresh within her. But as she falls into you, you feel the barest hints of a tentative, cautious relief shimmer at the edges of her mind. As she lets your words course through her. It is not your fault.

How many times?

Have you sat and watched the world destroy someone. Have you watched a system older than time erode away the edges of someone you loved. Hurt them. Hurt them irrecoverably. Hurt them deeply. Hurt them unfairly. Hurt them just because it can. 

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

How many times?

Six sweeps ago, you made a promise. I’m better than this. You said. I’m never gonna kill someone. I’m not gonna let it get to me. When the time comes, I’m gonna be the guy that offers a hand. 

And you kept that promise. 

A straw doesn’t break a camel's back. 

A thousand straws break a camel. 

Everything that came before it wore down the edges of you. 

A million lives destroys a person's soul. Your hands were gripped tight to the edges of that promise. Your fingers were breaking, holding on so tight to that promise. 

There is nothing the system can’t take from you. There is no forgiveness, it can't turn against you. It can’t use to hurt you. Because it was built to punish people who care. 

Like a sigh older than time. A breath you’ve been holding for ages. You let your hippocratic oath go. You exhale the ashes of the girl you used to be.

You give up on the dream. 

You stop believing, you will live to see a better world. 

It’s not giving up- 

It’s a truth you wanted so desperately to ignore. It’s not a reason to stop fighting. 

It’s a reason to fight harder. 

Don’t you get it? 

This…

…is it. 

This world, exactly as it is, is all you have. 

This painful, complicated life. 

This never ending gun to your head. This planet that is drowning, has been drowning, in a fight older than you, a fight that has taken trolls better than you. This place that is so broken- so deeply broken. This tangled, fucked up ball of hurt and pain and anger and greed. A planet that is drowning in blood. 

This is all you have. 

You get one whisper, one moment in the winds of time. 

You get one life. 

And life is hard. 

And it will be hard

And has been hard

It will be hard for your children

It will be hard for your children’s children.

You cannot finish the work. 

But by g-d, you are not exempt from it. 

This has always been bigger than you. 

This has always been hopeless out of your control. 

But you’re here, right now. You are alive. 

And you can do something. 

Right now, you can do something as simple as take another person's hand. 

It doesn’t matter if this is ‘enough’. It doesn’t matter if it will never get fixed. It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting for a happily ever after that might not come for 1000 sweeps. 

…It doesn’t matter if you’re fighting for a happily ever after that might not come at all. 

There is never an ounce of relief that is so small it cannot be shared. 

There is never a fragment of hope too minuscule to change a person from the inside out. 

Bee Monark wakes up feeling rested for the first time in sweeps. 

In the fading beams of the sunset, she drags herself out of bed. Brushing her teeth, 

washing her face,

bringing a comb through her hair. 

She is the first to make it to the coffee machine, the thing whirring as she flicks the power on. 

You are already awake when she makes it back to bed with a mug in hand. You are simply laying with your eyes closed. 

She gently touches your shoulder, rousing you.

And your hand fumbles for your glasses on the nightstand. 

You squint at her, reading her lips as you have not yet put in your hearing aid. 

“Hanagi look” she says, with a soft smile, tipping over her mug to show you.

“I got it,” she says. “I got it perfectly.”

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Tongue Tied Together

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heat), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, grumpy Dom, Tom being his helpful self, discussions of sex, mentions of killing, cursing, grumpy tea making, insults, light stalking, Dom being clueless, Kells being stubborn, Kells being a badass boss bitch, discussions of serious topics such as- trafficking, past assault (physical and SA), allusions to childhood trauma and sexual trauma (all just explained in a discussion- nothing is said in detail but keep yourself safe!), Collette being a badass gem and trying to help dumb boys, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

“You look like ‘hammered shit’ as the kids say. Sweet dreams again I suppose?” Tom's voice was soft as Dom entered the kitchen of their flat. His words were harsh but they'd never sugar coated life for each other. Considering the way they met it wouldn't make sense to be gentle, the photographer knew what the Alpha was before they even spoke. They'd made a home together of sorts even though they only liked each other as brothers and they even mixed home and work life. Tom ran a photography crime blog and was basically Dom's hitman assistant- there was really no need to be kind.

“Fanks. Tea?” If Dom was speaking so little he had obviously slept terribly, the boy's ADHD made him ramble like a five year old on meth when he wasn't in desperate need of a kill. It worried his best friend to see him so down.

Tom nodded to the kettle and watched the other man shuffle around the room. It had been over a week since the kid had come home covered in mating mess and grinning like mad- quite literally like mad, Dom was certifiable but they took care of each other and he'd helped find ways to keep his friend mostly sane. Then he accidentally sent him after that mob boss omega and everything and nothing changed. He hated watching the kid hurt but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew Dom was still ‘keeping an eye’- the Alpha's phrase for stalking, but he guessed the man still hadn't contacted him again. Since that happy afternoon delight the killer had been fighting old demons at night and while normally Tom would tell someone to talk to their fucking mate, this was a special case. Wasn't Dom always one…

Tom knew more than he probably should, the other man could overshare like no one else when he was manic. They'd been through everything together so he was used to it. He'd even been the one to help get the Alpha's wards set up in the states. Anyone who did so much to give their little sisters such a good life was a saint in his book, even if that halo of Dom's was held in place by horns. He just didn't know if the demons plaguing his friend were from his past or his present. It was hard to fish when the one you're trying to help occasionally enjoyed seeing people's insides on their outsides. Not that he'd ever truly threatened Tom.

“Tea's good today.” Even grumpy Dom could compliment his friend but it felt like a chore making himself sit across from him.

Tom took a deep breath that he didn't mean to let escape in a sigh as he made a choice and glanced up at the Alpha. He looked awful, dark circles under dead eyes and his hair even more wild than normal. “You know you can just… talk to him right?”

Dom was too tired to roll his eyes so instead he dropped his sight to the cup in front of him. Damn Tom for being so perceptive. “I don't care-” He stopped short. He couldn't lie with the man he thought of as his brother. “He's got me number.” He shrugged instead and he didn't have to look to know the other wasn't too tired to roll his eyes.

“And you've got his. Hell, you see him so often you could just… say hi? Of course not. So what? You just stalk him into submission?”

“I don't bloody know Tom. He needs me. I can feel it but he's so fucking stubborn!” The scoff his friend answered him with made his brow arch. “Fairs. Ya cunt. You know it's ya fault. I mean who fucks someone and never talks to ‘em again?” The voice crack and silly question showed the boy's age but it still hurt the omega's heart.

“Almost everyone?” He shrugged back but it wasn't what the kid needed to hear. People could be shit, that didn't mean Colson was. “He's got secrets too. You said…” He had to take a breath and prepare himself for an awkward conversation. Weren't they all though? He could still remember the time he had to catch the Alpha and bathe him after Dom attempted to stop killing cold turkey, before he decided to just protect his girls from afar. He didn't want a bad Alpha in their lives, even himself. Of course the break in self care and release for his urges wasn't the right choice. Tom still couldn't forget the sight he'd walked in on after tracking the boy down that night. Having to spray down a full grown arsehole after he ran home half naked and covered in red was an experience they didn't talk about. Awkward was relative. “He seemed… new to that, yeah?”

“‘Ere was blood. And wiv ‘ow he talked… If I weren't the first I'd be surprised.” That thought yet again sent a rush of emotion through Dom he couldn't fully understand. Why did that make his stomach flip? His cock twitch? His heart felt funny in his chest.

“And he was on heavy duty Alpha hormones. Long enough to grow up here since around puberty and pass. I've researched everything I can on him and for what the world knows he's an Alpha. That could have been his first heat. I can't imagine what it's like going through that so late.” Tom shuddered. It was a truly terrifying thought.

“Alright well ‘en why? Wha’ ‘append to start it?” Dom could feel the other man glaring at him. He wasn't daft, he just… didn't always understand simple things. Ask him how long it took someone to bleed out from a neck wound and he was a genius but his father hadn't cared to teach him omega sex ed beyond where he was supposed to stick his knot in one.

“You're serious? Dominic… Fucks sake. You. You happened.”

“Wha’ ya mean?” The boy almost whimpered. He genuinely didn't understand. Not really. Or maybe he just couldn't let himself. He wasn't ready. How could he be?

“I'll just say… you had the right pheromones for each other. But-” Tom was scared to ask the next question. He knew he had to navigate carefully, he couldn't let his friend go off the deep end. “So just that one time?” He paused long enough for Dom to nod. “And you've been close enough to see if he's still sick?”

“He seems alright now. Bitchy but alright. Maybe he got new blockers.”

Either the omega found stronger blockers, the old ones messed up his system so much that it was a false heat, or… No, it had to be one of the two. There was no way they wouldn't notice anything else, not with how drawn to each other they were. Tom just didn't know whether to push the Alpha to talk to Kells or not. Granted… maybe it didn't have to be Dom he gave the nudge to.

🩸☠️🩸

Colson was pissed. The man he was supposed to meet for the buy he had set up was later than anyone had given him the disrespect of before. The club was mostly quiet around them, even the normally pounding music was turned down. That was the benefit of owning your own place, you could do whatever you wished with it, but there were still enough people milling around to keep trigger happy idiots from doing anything stupid. He was in the VIP section taking up most of a velvet bench seat, his lanky body spread out to give the appearance of nonchalance. In actuality the omega was raging inside and wondering who to shoot first.

“Hey boss…” Mod’s voice was almost shaking, the beta obviously didn't want to bare any bad news.

From behind his purple shades Kells watched his friend nod his head indicating to someone against the far dark corner of the building. For a moment he thought the seller had finally arrived but no- it was just the fucking Alpha a-fucking-gain. Maybe Dom was who he should shoot first. A small part of his inner turmoil relaxed at the sight of him. He hated that he couldn't stop himself from feeling safer and calmer in the killer's presence. He didn't ask for him to come, Dom was always just… there. “Leave it. He's not the problem right now.” Colson snapped, trying to move his sight away from his stalker. He could feel his core pulse between his thighs but he ignored it. He would ignore the Alpha as well.

“But-” Megan huffed from Col’s other side and he shot a withering glare at her. It must have been something because she rolled her eyes and looked away, crossing her arms with a huff.

“I don't care if he wants to be a god damned fly on the wall alright? He's not doing shit but creeping.” Kells shrugged, he was tired of her bullshit to be honest. He was tired of everything. The past week had been one of the weirdest of his life and he just needed one thing to go right.

After the impromptu bang sesh the Monday before he and Dom had gone their separate ways with a few more insults tossed at each other, though they felt a little more playful than before. He'd gone home and slept like the dead and starting the next day he'd tried a new blocker. The fucking things just straight up refused to work. He wasn't sick anymore but he could tell the fake hormones weren't working. After a few days of trying he just tossed them out. It wasn't too bad anyway, he still felt slick when he saw the psycho which happened a lot more than he'd assumed it would, but that was about it. Every day Dom would appear in the shadows and while at first it pissed him off, now it was simply a part of life. The hitman was just his annoying shadow, the guy didn't even try to talk to him or anything. Sometimes he even caught Dom curled up on his balcony asleep. He refused to admit he slept better those nights.

He finally looked away from his new Alpha shadow and checked the time on his watch. “Fuck! I hope this asshole knows-”

“Boss!” Before Colson could finish his threat the man in question appeared at the door. Kells felt his trigger finger twitch but he didn't reach for his gun. Yet. He noticed his mother disappearing from her seat next to him but she rarely stayed around for the meetings. It was a compliment if anything, she trusted him as much as she'd trusted the man she loved.

Pete- the man he normally trusted to be his go between with sellers looked suitably shaken as he came to meet the group. The beta was trying to look hard but there was a subtle trembling in his limbs. When he reached Colson's table he took a seat across from him and his knee bounced. For just a moment the omega wondered if that was how people acted around Dom but he pushed that away. He was scarier than his golden retriever psycho. “You gotta understand- this ain't on me alright boss? I swear! These guys they just… they never showed up and all I got was this text saying the shipment was taken care of. I dunno what that means boss. Ya gotta know I wouldn't fuck you over. You're my best customer! I mean-”

Colson arched a brow at the man's nervous rambling. It would be hilarious to let him work himself up to pissing himself but Kells was tired. Dom hadn't slept close the night before. Fuck. He shouldn't let himself get used to it. “You mean what? That you fucked me over? That you're so fucking shitty at your job you lost me millions on product? Cause that's what this is Petey. You. Fucked. Up. Now, why shouldn't I just shoot you now and be done with it? You'll take out the trash, right?” He asked the last of Mod who nodded but then Megan was laughing at his threat and resting her hand on his thigh. It automatically made him itch and his gaze flicked to where he'd last seen the Alpha. Shit- was his mom talking to the freak?

“Cause you love me boss! We're friends!”

“Are we? My friends don't lose my shit.”

“Fucks sake boss I didn't mean to!”

“They already rescheduled from last Friday to tonight. Is this why? They were trying to fuck me over?” Kells was near growling. He hated being disrespected like that. The previous leader never was. Everyone acted as if Col was softer and he always worried it was his secret, that somehow everyone felt it without knowing.

“All I gots a text. Fuckers said the buy was done. I dunno boss. I'm sorry.” Pete shrugged and looked near to passing out.

He should be sorry. Everyone should be. Pete didn't know but Colson- just like his adoptive father before him didn't buy up omegas to sell. Travis had hated the way the fairer designation was treated and he built up his family to save them. That's how Kells had made it to them originally, thanks to his asshole Alpha bio dad. They made their money in guns and drugs but while everyone thought they were the best in the trafficking world they were doing quite the opposite. They would purchase shipments of omegas and give them new identities. New lives. Not everyone in the family was a fan of it but it was his reason to live. The reason his secret was so important. In truth deep down he and his stalker weren't so different.

🩸☠️🩸

Dom felt his polite mask slip in place as Collette approached him, though part of his smile was genuine. He truly liked her. She was a sweet but hard omega with her son's eyes and smile. Not that Colson ever smiled. She moved to hug him and he accepted it even if he was a little stiff. After squeezing him tight she led him away to a table but let him keep his needed line of sight as they sat down. “Sweetheart, you look like hammered shit.” Her voice was lovely and her words… true. He couldn't deny it.

“You ain't the first to say tha’ today. Jus' can't sleep. I'll be alright.” He shrugged one shoulder, his fingers tearing apart a coaster on the table. He couldn't help fidgeting at all times.

“May I ask what's wrong?” Her voice stayed gentle as she laid her hand over his. Dom had never had a good mum and for just a moment he wondered if he'd be different with someone who cared like her. She genuinely seemed to already.

“Rough week. He-” The Alpha grit his teeth, he didn't know much about social or relationship norms- not that he was in one- but he was pretty sure bitching to a fuck buddy’s mummy wasn't allowed. Bollocks.

The omega tried not to chuckle as she watched the boy fight himself over something. He was so young and sweet seeming, even though she knew who he was in the dark. Killing didn't phase her, she'd done her own plenty when needed and she wasn't as blonde as she appeared to be. It wasn't hard for her to see the common denominator in every one of Yungblud’s hits- Alphas. Bad ones. Hell, to the rest of the world her son was the leader of the top trafficking ring, she understood why Colson would be on his list and she knew that they shared the same principles, they just took care of the problem in different ways.

“You know when I met my husband I was scared to let him in. I fought and I fought and I told him I hated him every day for months. He had basically bought me from- from my previous husband and I hated all Alphas for it for a long time. He always said I was free to go though and I just… didn't. I couldn't make myself.” She laughed softly and brushed her hair behind her ear. “Eventually I realized I could trust him and we grew closer. By the time Colson came to us we were in love and I was finally strong enough to help my boy through hell.”

Dom’s brows furrowed and his gaze flicked between the two. Colson was too far away for his liking but he could see him. “Wha’ ‘append? To Cols I mean.”

Collette took a breath and pulled her hand back to fidget herself. She didn't know exactly how much she could say but she also didn't want the boy giving up. “My first husband… He was someone I think you'd like to meet with those knives you seem so partial to.” She paused as she watched Dom start to reach for his bag before he stopped and sat up straighter. “I was given to him by my own father very young and he was a religious ass who thought Alphas were God's gift and omegas were-”

“I know tha’ type. I fink me dad and Col’s would ‘ave been friends.” Dom shuddered.

“Yes well… He hated that I gave him an omega son. He was… he was terrible to us both. After the birth he hated me and let me know it. His brother was just as bad but that bastard thought if my husband wasn't using me…" She paused to let the gravity sink in. Her brother-in-law had been a sick fuck. Both of them were. "When Colson was two my ex caught his brother assaulting me and of course blamed me. He beat me so badly the next week was a blur. I woke up the day Travis found me and we tried to get my son back but the fuckers had moved.”

Dom watched her calmly talk about the hell she'd been through as if she were speaking about the weather. He knew that feeling, that separation from your own trauma because it was far too big to feel. He had his own story and he gave her the respect she deserved by keeping eye contact as he listened. “Wha’ appended to ‘im?” There was a soft growl in his chest.

“I'm not sure it's my story to tell. But history repeats itself, I think we both know that. My son came back to me broken. It had been a decade and he was… he'd been through something terrible. As soon as it was safe he went on blockers and my love took him under his wing. It was Col's choice to hide. Just please understand he has a good reason to be scared of what you did together. He might be terrified for a while. Please just… be patient? I think you could be good for each other. And he'll really need you now.” She gave him a soft smile and he nodded.

He couldn't do much more than that. The sociopath wasn't used to emotions but something was aching in his chest. He knew what her words meant. He hadn't technically been the omega's first, just the first he allowed. The panic Dom had felt in the moment was shared. He also knew there were two new names on his list but he wouldn't leave the man yet to take care of it.

“He stopped taking his blockers. If you were worried. He'll figure it out. Just give him time.” She soothed but he was confused why he should care about that. The Machine Gun could do whatever he wanted with his body. He didn't hate the thought of being able to scent him though. “Oh.” Collette laughed softly, shaking her head. “I'll talk to him, alright? Don't give up.” Her voice was sweet as she patted his arm over where the omega had bit him as if it meant something more than he understood. He couldn't help admiring her beauty and she wasn't much older it seemed than her son. If Colson had been sold at twelve... Maybe she had been married off then too. Yeah, those two were definitely on his list. After a moment she slid off her chair and pressed a kiss to his cheek before disappearing back to her son. It left Dom to watch and wait and picture all the ways he could slaughter those who hurt what was his. Wait... Fuck.

Of course he didn't plan on leaving Kells alone, he couldn't seem to make himself. Something about the man drew him in and kept him there. Like a moth to a flame. Maybe he just needed to try a little more than stalking- Tom kept telling him words were good. Watching the omega he knew it wasn't conversation he wanted to share but he'd do anything to stay close. Even put off his own bubbling needs.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone else wants tagged let me know 🖤

So this chapter was intense but I tried to keep some of it light. These boys have been through hell but they can help each other. Hopefully they'll start getting closer in the next chapter but I hope you enjoyed a little more Tom and Collette time! Also mob boss Kells moments are fun. I hope you liked it 💣🖤

[propertyofwhitney67]

House Party

Whitney the Bully x Reader

Words: 828

Warnings: Implied past sexual assault

Note: I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while, it’s been stuck in my head more lately and my maladaptive daydreaming of characters comforting me hasn’t been enough. It was years ago but every once in a while the thoughts just don’t go away.

The music was muffled through the wall of one of the many bedrooms at this house party. I don’t know whose house it is, Whitney dragged me along with his gang of friends to it. With a bit of drink in me I let Whitney drag me upstairs where we are now.

He picked me up and sat me on his lap and started to kiss me hungrily, I kissed him back just as eagerly. He began to grope my chest while I ran my hands through his hair. The door swung open and without missing a beat Whitney yelled, “Fuck off!” and started to kiss me again. I heard mumbling then the door close. I laughed into the kiss, letting him slip his tongue into my mouth.

Before I knew it I was basically naked and he was on top of me. He broke the kiss, took off his shirt and went to undo his belt. The clanking sound of the metal sent me into a panic. I tried to get out from under him and in my panic I pushed him hard back onto the bed. 

I jumped off and ran into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door and locking it. I held my knees to my chest and tried to calm myself. Breathe in and out. In and out. A bang on the door caused me to jump, “What the fuck slut?” He sounded angry with a hint of something else I couldn't place in my terrified state.

“Go away…please just go away…” I mumbled while hugging myself on the cold floor. I don’t want to, please don’t. 

Everything came back from that night. The drinking, the smoking, the smell of his detergent, and the godawful sound of his belt. How naive I was. He acted so nice, I should have known it was a ruse. I was just a new toy for him to play with, to damage. 

I heard a thump on the other side of the door as Whitney sat down and leaned against it, “...What happened?” I didn't answer, only letting out a few sobs. He sighed, “I won't hurt you. I’m not that kind of piece of shit Y/n.” He used to be, but not anymore. He had truly grown to care for you, he just didn’t show it very well.

I spoke incoherently through my sobbing, “I’m-I’m…I-I…” I tried to regulate my breathing again to no avail.

“Can I come in?” He asked in a surprisingly soft voice. I shook as I stood up and unlocked the door. I quickly went to the other side of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. 

He opened the door slowly and made his way to me but stopped short, not wanting to scare me more. He threw his shirt at me and gestured for me to put it on. I didn’t say anything and did as he wanted. He was silent, trying to think of something to comfort me, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head furiously. “Ok…do you want to go back into the room?” I thought it over and nodded. He held out his hand and helped me up then led me back into the room.

I suddenly felt embarrassed and put my head in my hands. I can’t believe I let myself panic like that. Whitney would never do that to me, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me who I have to kill for touching you.”

I shook my head, not wanting to say his name. It was so long ago at this point, but the name still instilled fear in me. “Doesn’t matter, he graduated a few years ago. I’m sure he’s left town by now.”

He patted the bed beside him and without thinking I sat beside him. He put his arm around me in an attempt to comfort me, “Sick fucks like that don’t leave this town, they thrive here.” I sniffled and leaned into him but he pulled away and held my hands up to my ears. I looked at him in confusion, “Just do it.” I nodded and covered my ears. 

He stood up and took off his belt and threw it to the other side of the room. I uncovered my ears as he laid on the bed and patted beside him again. I crawled up to him and rested my head on his chest as he held me close. “I’m sorry I ruined the moment…” I mumbled after a while. I already apologized, but I still felt bad about it.

“I can fuck you another night slut. Just want you to be ok.” He said quietly while petting my hair. I smiled and looked up at him, he leaned in and kissed me. It was short but filled with emotion. “Rest, I’ll stay up.” I smiled at him again and laid back down on his chest and fell into a peaceful sleep.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

[darth-sonny]

Wait... Why would Kirby be around in the good end?

as something that haunts Leo. subconsciously, he's terrified that Prime somehow managed to do something as one last laugh

[xluminaheart]

When he looked at her face, all he could see was shining silver scales.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” A low murmur. “I can’t believe I’m going to have you all to myself.”

And then a hand touched his neck in a caress, and Nezha felt his vision go black.

Rin's possessiveness during sex reminds Nezha of something he would rather forget.

(one-shot, 1.3k words)

Please heed the content warnings for this one as it’s quite intense

[firefly-sky]

i’m sorry i keep venting but i swear this is my lowest. and i don’t really have any other way to filter it out because it’s like it’s consuming me and i can’t get it out of my head and i don’t wanna relapse again so. tw for self harm, sa mentions and suicide (i’m not gonna do anything but things will be mentioned.

today has been absolute hell. i don’t know why but the ask from this morning has me all jumpy or whatever. i just feel sick. i dunno. i guess i deserve it. i deserve to feel this way. i deserve what happened to me because i hurt people. i don’t like to say i was assaulted because i was young when it happened (8-12y/o or so) and it just kinda feels like i don’t have a right to say that because it wasn’t that much. like my grandpa used to slap me on the ass. he touched my chest area once or twice but that was it. but he did that to a lot of people. and i dunno. i feel like i can’t call it assault because it wasn’t. he didn’t know what he was doing because he had alzheimer’s and was demented. i dunno. i wish he was nicer. he used to scream at me and my brothers a lot. he made us cry and hide a lot too. he wasn’t very nice. but he’s still family and i have to love him. and i thought i was over it but the stupid ask from this morning just had me like…i dunno. feeling weird.

i suppose i deserved it. if i told my family they would tell me im being a dramatic attention seeker. so i guess that’s what im being. but i dunno. i hate complaining about this stuff because it doesn’t do anything. but still. and the shit about my brother doesn’t bother me as much. he was probably joking around or whatever when he was touching my clothes. it’s blurry now. but it’s whatever. i deserve this all. i deserve it. and i keep telling myself that.

i relapsed last night. for the first time in about nine months. i had one of the worst mental breakdowns of my life. i was just stuck on the bathroom floor crying while i relapsed. it wasn’t that bad. i shouldn’t count it as s/h. it never broke skin. or well; that much at least. i don’t even know hat happened, i was just thinking for too long and i ended up spiraling. i thought about ending it last night while taking my meds because i was thinking about how easy it would’ve been. i deserve it. but i was thinking like…i dunno. running from this won’t do anything. so i guess i have to face it myself.

every time i hear my mom tell me im a loyal friend, or that im kind, or whatever, all i can think about is how many people i’ve hurt. and it’s just become my life now. i hardly sleep. i either don’t eat or i eat til i feel like throwing up. i feel like there’s no escape and i did this all to myself. i wish i could turn back time. i do. but i cant. i wish that i could tell my past self what a fucking idiot she was. i don’t want to keep fighting this. i wanna be happy. but i feel like i can’t do anything.

everyone says im just doing ‘good’. good in school, in clubs, in whatever. but good isn’t great. and i need to be great. i need to be exceptional. i need to be exemplary. i need to be the best. that’s always where my mind is at. and if i’m not the best, i’m nothing. and i am nothing. i will always be nothing. because i can’t get off my lazy ass to do anything productive so i either drown myself in work or i do nothing but waste time holed up in my room because there’s something wrong with me and i can’t turn it off.

i’m scared. but i deserve to be scared. i deserve all of this and all of what’s to come. i don’t even think it’s because of friend issues either anymore. i just finally woke up and realized how meaningless everything i do is. because i’m not a good friend. i’m not a good sister. i’m not a good partner. i’m not anything. i’m not the best and when i’m not the best, i’m nothing.

[surfsnap]

Billy doesn't understand why Steve won't pay attention to him at Tina's party. He's done everything right, and... nothing.

Whenever he tries to make eye contact with Steve, the other boy is sucking his girlfriend's face.

I can't be here. 

So, what does he do instead? He gulps down every red cup he can get his hands on until his vision is blurry, and the ground below him starts to sway. 

“Rough night?” 

Billy blinks, trying to make out the face of the owner of the low, weary voice. All he knows for sure is that it’s coming from a boy, and the stranger’s hands are empty. “S...sober at a p-party? Not... having... f-fun?” 

“Nah, it’s not my scene.” 

“Th-then whyyyyyy... are you here?”

“My friend Nancy wanted me to get out of the house. Said I was “starting to blend in with my mom’s wallpaper”.” 

“Na-nancy?”

“She’s here with Steve Harrington. Do you know him?”

I wish I did. 

His silence is apparently a sufficient answer. 

“He’s not worth you drinking yourself into a coma, ya know.” 

“S... not why...” 

“Man, you don’t look too good.”

“Pop...popular opinion, t’night,” he sniffles, jerking a shaking thumb in Harrington’s direction. Here he goes, pouring the tip of his heart out to a stranger. Great. 

“What? No, no, I meant you look like you’re gonna pass out.” 

Just as he says that, Billy falls forward, only to find that this guy has stopped him from kissing the carpet. 

“I gotcha. You’re not gonna fall.”

“Gotta... go... home.” 

“You’re in no condition to drive, dude. I can... take you upstairs?” 

“Gonna make me... forget Harrington?”

“No! God, no.” 

You really shoulda let me fall. 

“I’ll help you up the stairs so you can get rest, okay?” 

Bullshit. At the least you’re gonna rob me. 

The next thing he knows, he’s being tucked into a bed, and he can hear his “good Samaritan” talking. 

“Your name’s Billy. I remember you from school. Steve just... isn’t worth the trouble, trust me.” 

“‘S my fault. I... really thought... I was good enough.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Not that my opinion should matter all that much to you, but I think you’re a pretty great guy, and you deserve better.”

“Better than- K-king Steve?” 

“Definitely.” 

Right before Billy falls asleep, he swears he hears, “If only you’d see... I’m right here. You’re enough for me, you just don’t know it yet.” 

But that’s probably just the alcohol mixed with wishful thinking. 

**

For you bby @freakyocean