#I fucked around with my self harm scars for the first time in years today

[jess-abides]

…

[its-avalon-08]

May I please request something with female reader and Lando Norris. With a plus size reader. (Not enough out there I fear) Where they have been dating for a while and at a race a fan corners her and says something about her weight and how Lando’s just with her for potty and is waiting for the right time to dump her. She doesn’t tell Lando, and one day he hears her crying. Like the crying that hurts your heart and Lando confronts her and when he’s doing that he sees scars on her wrist that she has. And he promises to always be there and that he would never leave her despite everything because he loves her and pictures a future with her.

I hope that’s okay with you.

all my love (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, hate speech, self harm fatphobia

The energy at the race was electric. Fans filled the stands, waving flags and cheering at every opportunity. Y/N stood on the sidelines, smiling as Lando’s car zipped by on the track. She loved supporting him, always had, but the attention that came with dating a Formula 1 driver was something she was still adjusting to. There were moments when it felt like the whole world was watching her, scrutinizing every move, every glance, every flaw. But Lando made it worth it, always making her feel loved, never treating her any differently because of her size.

Today, though, the usual buzz of excitement had a different edge. She sensed it the moment she stepped out into the paddock, feeling eyes on her. She brushed it off—today was Lando’s day, and nothing could ruin that. At least, that’s what she thought.

As she stood by herself, waiting for the race to end, a group of fans approached. At first, they seemed friendly, asking for photos and autographs. But then, a woman, maybe a few years older than her, edged closer, her eyes narrowing.

"You’re Y/N, right?" the woman asked, voice dripping with a sweetness that felt fake.

Y/N nodded politely, "Yeah, that’s me."

The woman’s smile turned icy. "I’m surprised Lando’s still with you."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, look at you," the woman continued, her voice now openly venomous. "You really think a guy like Lando is with you for… what, love? No, sweetheart, he’s just waiting for the right moment to dump you. Guys like him? They don’t stay with girls like you, girls who look like they can't control their fucking appetite. They’re always on the lookout for something better."

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach, her breath catching in her throat. She forced a smile, trying to stay composed. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The woman laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "Please. He’s famous, rich, and let’s be honest, out of your league. Look at you—" her eyes raked over Y/N’s body, judging every inch, "—you’re just a phase, a placeholder until someone hotter and thinner comes along. And don’t even get me started on your weight. Ever heard of portion control?"

Y/N froze. The words stung, burning deep into her heart. She could feel her face heating up, the tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She tried to swallow the hurt, but it was overwhelming, suffocating.

"You know it, don’t you?" the woman pressed. "Every time you look in the mirror, you know you don’t belong in his world. How could you? You’re not like the other girls. The pretty ones. The ones who fit the image. I bet he only keeps you around for the attention, to make himself look like a good guy. The ‘Oh, look, I’m dating a fat girl’ kind of thing. He’ll get bored of that eventually."

Y/N felt her chest tighten, her fingers shaking as she clenched them into fists, trying desperately to hold back the tears threatening to fall. She didn’t want to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"Why would you say something like that?" she whispered, her voice trembling, but the woman just shrugged.

"Because it’s the truth. You don’t really think Lando’s in it for the long haul, do you? Not with someone like you."

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She was speechless, shattered by the cruelty in the woman’s words. She had always struggled with self-doubt, but hearing it confirmed by a stranger? It felt like a punch to the gut.

The woman took a step back, looking pleased with herself, then walked away without another word, leaving Y/N standing there, hollow and broken.

As the roar of the cars continued in the background, the noise around her faded. All she could hear were the words echoing in her mind. You don’t belong in his world… just a phase… waiting to dump you…

Y/N blinked, trying to pull herself together, but the weight of those words pressed down on her like a boulder. She felt sick, the pit in her stomach growing with each second. How could someone be so cruel? How could they say such things when they didn’t even know her?

And worse… what if they were right?

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to smile, though it was shaky, even though every part of her wanted to cry. Lando would be back soon, and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this, broken and doubting everything they had.

But the cracks were already starting to form, and deep down, Y/N wasn’t sure how long she could hold herself together.

time skip

The apartment was quiet, except for the occasional hum of the city outside. Lando had just gotten back from a long day, eager to find Y/N and relax with her. He loved the quiet moments they shared, just the two of them, away from the cameras and the noise of the world.

But something felt off the second he walked in. It was too quiet. He dropped his keys on the counter, his eyes scanning the living room, but Y/N wasn’t there. A sense of unease settled in his chest.

That’s when he heard it—a muffled sound, faint but unmistakable.

Crying.

His heart clenched instantly, his feet carrying him down the hallway before he even had time to think. He knew that cry—it was the kind that broke you, the kind that came from a place so deep it made your chest ache just hearing it.

"Y/N?" he called out softly as he reached the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he could hear her sobbing. "Baby, what’s wrong?"

There was no answer, only the sound of her sobs growing louder. He pushed the door open gently, his eyes landing on her. She was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried in her hands. Her whole body was shaking, her cries raw and broken.

"Y/N…" Lando’s voice was soft, but it cracked with worry. He rushed to her, dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching out to touch her, but she flinched, as if his touch burned. That reaction tore at him.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she sobbed, her voice broken and trembling, barely able to get the words out. "Why didn’t you just tell me you’re going to leave me?"

Lando’s heart dropped. "What? Leave you? Y/N, I would never—"

"Don’t lie!" she screamed, her voice filled with so much pain it shattered him. "I know what people are saying, I know what they think of me. I’m not blind, Lando. They all think I’m not good enough for you. And you… you’re just too nice to tell me to my face."

He froze, trying to understand where this was coming from, his mind racing. "Baby, no, that’s not true—"

"It is!" she cried, her hands pulling at her hair in frustration. "I’m not what you need. I’m not the pretty, skinny girlfriend you’re supposed to have! I’m the one who’s always in the way, always being judged for not fitting in."

Lando was stunned. "Who told you that? Y/N, I never—"

"It doesn’t matter who said it!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "I feel it every day. Every time we’re out in public, every time I see the way people look at me, I hear it in their voices. I’m too much for you… and you’re going to realize it eventually."

Lando’s chest tightened, his throat closing up as he saw the depth of her pain. He had no idea it was this bad. He didn’t know she’d been carrying this weight around.

"Y/N…" His voice was soft, but before he could say more, something caught his eye—her wrist. There, beneath her sleeve, were faint scars, thin and pale, like a hidden secret she had tried to keep from the world.

His heart stopped. "What… what is this?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he gently reached for her arm.

Y/N froze, pulling away quickly, but it was too late. Lando had seen them. The pain in his eyes mirrored the torment she had been carrying for so long.

"Y/N… why? Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice cracked, tears already forming in his eyes as he looked at her, his hands trembling as he cupped her face. "Please, baby, talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you hurting like this?"

She shook her head, her sobs growing louder. "I’m sorry," she whispered through the tears, her voice so broken it hurt to hear. "I’m so sorry, Lando. I didn’t want to… I didn’t know how to stop. I just… it hurt so much."

Lando felt his heart breaking in ways he never thought possible. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her close to him as if holding her could take all the pain away. She clung to him, her body shaking with sobs, her tears soaking his shirt.

"You should leave me," she whispered against his chest. "I’m too broken. You don’t deserve to deal with this."

Lando pulled back, his hands cupping her face, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Don’t you dare say that. I’m not leaving you. Ever."

"But I’m not enough," she choked out. "I’m not enough for you."

"You are everything," Lando said, his voice firm but soft, full of love. "You hear me? You are everything to me, Y/N. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. I’m not with you for popularity, or to make myself look good. I’m with you because I love you. I love you, exactly as you are."

She shook her head, still crying. "But I’m not good enough. I’m not what you need."

"You’re exactly what I need," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I need you. I need your laugh, your smile, your heart. I need you to believe that I’m in this with you. For good."

"But the scars…" she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked down at her wrist. "I’m not okay, Lando."

He kissed her forehead, his tears falling now, unable to hold them back any longer. "I know you’re not okay right now. But you will be. I’m going to help you through this, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone in this."

Lando held Y/N tightly in his arms, feeling the way her body trembled with every sob. His heart ached, but he knew that no matter how deep her pain went, he was going to be there to pull her out of it. He wasn’t going to let her drown in her thoughts, not now, not ever. He cupped her face, gently forcing her to look up at him, her tear-streaked eyes filled with so much hurt that it nearly broke him.

"Y/N, listen to me." His voice was soft, yet there was an undeniable firmness to it, like every word was weighted with conviction. "I need you to hear me, really hear me this time. You’re not alone in this. I know you feel like you are, I know it’s been hard… but I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere."

Her eyes searched his, still filled with doubt, still consumed by the things people had said to her, but he continued, refusing to let her sink into that darkness.

"I see a future with you. Not just tomorrow or next week, but years from now, Y/N. I picture it all. You and me, building something real together. A home, a life. Waking up next to you every morning, falling asleep next to you every night. Growing old together." His voice caught in his throat for a moment, overwhelmed by how much he meant every word. "You’re not just someone I’m passing time with. You’re the person I want to spend my life with."

She shook her head weakly, still crying. "But why? I don’t understand… why would you want me?"

Lando exhaled sharply, his eyes burning as he fought back his own tears. "Why? Because you’re everything to me, Y/N. I don’t care what anyone says or what you think you’re lacking. I love you for exactly who you are. Your kindness, your strength, the way you light up a room with your smile. Even when you don’t believe in yourself, I do. I see how incredible you are, how much love you have to give, and I don’t ever want to live without that."

She sniffled, her lip trembling. "But I’m not enough, Lando. I’m not perfect. I’m broken."

He shook his head fiercely, brushing away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs. "You’re not broken. And even if you were, I wouldn’t care. I don’t need you to be perfect. I don’t want perfect. I want you. The real you, the one who sometimes struggles, the one who sometimes feels like she’s falling apart. I want to be the one who catches you when you do. I want to be the person you lean on, the one who helps you carry the weight when it gets too heavy."

She looked away, tears streaming down her face, but Lando gently guided her gaze back to his. "You’re not just some phase for me. You’re my forever, Y/N. I see us getting married one day, building a family if that’s what you want. I want us to have all of it—the laughter, the tough times, the quiet moments. I want to hold your hand through everything life throws at us. I want to wake up in the middle of the night just to see you sleeping beside me and feel grateful that you’re mine."

His words came out in a rush now, fueled by the depth of his emotions. "You think I’ll leave you because of what? Because of your size? That’s insane. You’re beautiful to me, every single inch of you. I love the way you are, your curves, the softness of your skin when I hold you. But more than that, I love what’s inside. Your heart, your soul, the way you care about people, how you’re always thinking of others before yourself. You think I could ever walk away from that? From you? Never."

Y/N’s sobs quieted for a moment, but the tears kept falling, her chest heaving as she tried to absorb what he was saying.

Lando took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued, his voice trembling with the weight of his own emotions. "You’ve seen my worst days, you’ve seen me at my lowest, and you still loved me. How could I not love you back with everything I have? I want a life with you, Y/N. The messy, the hard, the beautiful—all of it. I want you by my side through everything. We’ll get through this. You don’t have to be perfect for me. You just have to be you, because that’s enough."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his tears mingling with hers. "I love you, Y/N. You’re the love of my life, and I’m not going to let you carry this burden alone anymore. I’m going to be here every step of the way, helping you heal, helping you see yourself the way I see you. You deserve to be happy, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you know that."

Y/N’s sobs finally subsided as she melted into him, her body weak from crying but her heart beginning to feel something it hadn’t in a long time—hope. Lando held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her as if he could shield her from all the pain she’d been feeling.

"I’m never going to leave you," he whispered against her hair, his voice full of raw emotion. "No matter what the world says, no matter what you think sometimes. I’m in this for life, Y/N. I love you, and nothing—nothing—will ever change that."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N allowed herself to believe him.

[thepeachyouhadtopick]

ANYTHING BUT ORDINARY | Chapter Eight

The Jackass gang prepare for a few days of filming stunts at the lake, but it doesn't all go to plan.

Thanks for more amazing feedback! This was a really fun chapter to write so I hope you enjoy it. I also included some actual dialogue from the Jackass show in this chapter and I've linked to the video! Some cute Ell and Johnny moments, sweet Steve-o and Ell friendship moments, and a very sweet part with Bam. Please leave comments, kudos and share if you're enjoying my work!

CW for mention of self harm scars, brief mention of bulimia / alcohol abuse / drug abuse.

Taglist: @lizey-thornberry @babybammargera @zolofts (let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

“Your ass is in my seat, move over!” Ehren snapped at Ryan as the van sped down the motorway. It was unseasonably hot for the time of year, and everyone was sweaty, tired and uncomfortable on their way to the next location. “I’m not even anywhere near you, fuckhead!” Ryan argued back, shoving Ehren away from him. On the other side of Ryan, Ell was desperately trying to shut out their squabbling by wrapping a pillow around her head. Today was the first of three days that the entire cast would be filming all together - a first in the entire production of Jackass so far. They were heading to a lake, where a couple of giant ramps had been built for them to do different stunts from. It was achingly hot, so they were all looking forward to launching themselves into the water, promising that they’d do anything just to get in there. Ell was excited to do some more skating, but one thing she hadn’t been looking forward to was revealing her scars to everybody for the first time when she inevitably stripped down to her bikini. She was wearing it under her clothes ready for the shoot, dreading what might be said. “Boys, if you don’t shut the fuck up I will drown you both in this lake!” Ell snarled, sick of their fighting. She hadn’t slept much because of the heat, so that combined with her nerves about the day ahead had made her incredibly irritable. It hadn’t helped that she’d not been able to speak to Johnny much since they’d filmed their prank together. Because of one thing and another, their schedules had been completely different so they hadn’t even been able to talk over dinner. Stephanie had also confessed to her that she hadn’t really been sick that day; she just wanted to get Ell and Johnny to spend some time together, and although Ell was annoyed at her for interfering at first, she was ultimately grateful.

Continue reading

[dangleboots]

I wish I had the courage to send her these. To take an active leap into being vulnerable instead of this passive route I've taken. But I am afraid, and I am a coward.

I'm not afraid to admit I fucked up too. I'm not afraid to tell I loved her and still do. I'm not afraid to apologize for blocking her for a bit, I feel really shitty over it. I'm not even afraid of her seeing my heart spilled onto these digital pages, my thought processes laid bare. All that I am, written out. I'd show her in a heartbeat.

I am afraid of being hurt. I always have been, since the toxic experience I had in middle school, developing depression and anxiety, being taken advantage of by my ex and manipulated- still not knowing what was truth and fiction to this day. I have built up sturdy, high castle walls around my heart over many years.

In that castle lies a scared child, who experienced judgement and disdain from her peers for the first time. Who experienced being "othered", made fun of- whispers just loud enough to hear. I am still protecting her to this day. Because I am her, still, at heart.

In that castle too lies a teenager who just wanted to be loved by someone who wasn't obligated to. To be loved for her insecurities, her looks, her awkwardness, by choice. To be someone's choice. She opened up her heart to someone, and was burned. She was coerced into doing things she didn't want to- convinced she did, even though she set boundaries and they weren't respected. I protect her too, because I still am her at heart and I still wear the scars today.

In the heart of that castle lies me, clad in armor, protecting the doors to the other, younger mes. Barring any outside entry except for a very, very select few. Purposefully making myself non-descript for so many years. Making sure I don't draw attention. Staying away from anything that could potentially hurt me. Having a goal of blending in so well that no one even sees me. Because if they see me, they can judge me, and they can hurt me.

Under my armor, I'm just like the other mes. Older, wiser, but still so young and inexperienced. Still so afraid. I protect my younger selves, and in turn protect my current self. But I am no more than a coward. I hide away in my castle walls so that no harm can come to me.

A little over a year ago, I put down the drawbridge for a bit. Stepped a toe outside, tested the waters of the moat. A beautiful stranger appeared at the edge of the bridge a few days later, but she did not attempt to cross. She did not try to use force to gain entry or deceit to sneak in. We talked to each other from opposite sides of the bridge. Slowly but surely, I became less wary of her. I started walking across. We met at the edge, and I was welcomed with a hug. I invited her into my castle. She became a visitor, kept away from the private rooms, but still allowed continuous entry. She stayed. We began to learn about each other, little by little, and I took my helmet off. She didn't seize that moment of weakness. She became a constant in my castle after that. Slowly but surely let into more and more rooms, introduced to the various wings of the castle.

She was granted entry to the most hidden rooms, with time. My younger selves, vulnerable to attack, yet she didn't take advantage of the opportunity. She hugged them, instead. She was allowed entry into all the rooms in the castle after that, even if she didn't explore all of them.

Affairs outside of the castle called her away for longer and longer periods of time. The halls felt empty without her. I had become used to her bright presence illuminating the keep. I had become too reliant on it as well, no longer lighting the torches as I once did.

Darkness filled the halls and seeped into the cracks in the walls. I lamented the loss of my light, forgetting I had torches all along. Not realizing that the two should have complimented one another instead of one replacing the other.

I sent missives to my guest, but few were returned. I withdrew into my castle, dark but for my own ignorance. I locked the doors to my younger selves. I closed the portcullis. One day, after many missives, my guest returned. She stood at the edge of the drawbridge, not crossing for she could see the closed portcullis, and my missives had steadily started to reflect the lack of light in the castle. We talked across the bridge, and she left.

I left the drawbridge down, but did not attempt to cross it myself. Eventually, I sent a final missive. I did not hear back, so I believed the visitor to never return to my castle. I raised the drawbridge. I never heard from the visitor again.

During her later visits she was allowed into every room of the castle, but one thing was never revealed. My helmet was off, she saw my true face, but my armor remained. I still protected my current self, no matter how much trust she gained.

Under that armor, I am a coward. I am afraid. It is my shield, and I hide behind it.

I wish I hadn't.

[superdcchick]

Just what you needed

A/N: Okay so I wrote this about Henry but I thought it might fit with some of his other characters. So who do you think would fit?

word count: 1,110

Warnings: Mental health. scars, self-harm scars, fluffy and sweet

Henry x female reader

The last few days have been rough, or maybe it's been a few weeks? You hated your depressive episodes but all you could do was ride it out. It was late. you spent most of your days laying on the couch, time just passing by but it felt like a crawl. Not answering any calls or texts. Everything is just too much.

There was a knock on your apartment door. But you don't move, they will go away in a few seconds. There was another knock at the door, louder this time. "Y/n? You there?"

"Go away"

"Nope, let me in, I'm gonna stay shouting out here till you let me in!"

You got up to open the door. Opening it slowly "I don't want any visitors Henry"

"Well too bad I'm here now," He says and pushes by you.

"I brought you some food, grab some plates"

"I'm not hungry"

"I didn't ask if you were hungry. Grab some plates."

You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen grabbing two plates, forks, and some alcohol. Leaving everything down on the coffee table he gives you a look. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"No, why?"

"Is alcohol a good idea?"

"I'll just have one"

"At least eat a bit first before you start drinking"

"Okay"

He brought you all your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. You couldn't help but smile when you noticed.

He let you choose whatever movie you wanted while you both ate. The food was so good, you hummed every time you ate something different. You loved the food. You couldn't remember the last time you ate something. When the movie was over and the food was eaten, Henry turned the tv down a little and turned to you.

"So, what's been going on?"

"You don't wanna know Henry. I'll be alright soon. It just needs to run its course"

"What has to run its course?"

"My head, my thoughts," You said as you played with your beer bottle.

Taking the bottle from you he leaves it down on the coffee table. "I don't think drinking is a good idea then"

"You're probably right, alcohol usually makes my mood drop more"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't wanna ruin your night." He takes your hand.

"Y/n, you know you can talk about anything. I don't like seeing you down. Now I'm here, here for you"

You started to talk about your mental health and how you just feel numb every few weeks. He sat there and listened to every word you said. You felt so good having someone to listen, finally being heard. You started to smile and when you realized he was smiling back you got embarrassed. Covering your face with your hand and throwing it up on the back of the couch.

"Y/n? what's that on your arm?"

You didn't notice that your scars were showing. "Oh um" Shit, you cover it. He takes your hand again and looks you in the eyes. "This is a safe space okay? You're safe with me. Now you don't have to tell me but, have you hurt yourself?"

"No, they are old, very old. I'm sorry you've seen them"

"Shh, no need to be sorry okay" He scoots over

"Can I ask how long it's been?"

Grabbing your phone you open an app.

"It's been exactly one year, eight months, 29 days, 22 hours, 54 minutes, and 59 seconds since the last time"

"I'm so fucking proud of you y/n, so proud"

"Thanks but,"

"No, you're doing amazing"

He leans in to hug you. He hugged you so tight and held you.

"Okay, um, I think I'm gonna take a shower. You can leave that stuff there and I'll clean it up later"

He nods as you leave to shower.

You did feel better, talking does help. You smiled thinking about Henry saying how proud he was of you. You left the bathroom in your robe to head to your bedroom to get into your pajamas. You heard noises in the kitchen. You looked around and Henry was washing the plates and stuff from the coffee table.

"Henry! There was no need to do that!"

"It's no bother, go get dressed and we can watch another movie"

"Henry, I'm sure you have better things to be doing"

"Nothing comes to mind," He says with a huge smile on his face.

"Okay, you pick the movie this time since I have the choice last time."

Leaving the kitchen you go to your room to get dressed. When you come back out, you take your seat beside him on the couch."Thank you"

"You're welcome" He smiles. You lean in to give him a hug, his arms wrapped around you, feeling safe. You feel his hand on the back of your head "Anytime you need anything. Anything at all just call me. We don't even have to talk but please don't be alone" "Okay Henry" you whisper and smile.

You settle down to watch the movie. About halfway through you were sleepy and unable to keep your eyes open. Henry turns the volume down a little and you drift off to sleep leaning your head on his shoulder. A little while later, you're fast asleep. Henry moves slowly off the couch and stands. He gently picks you up off the couch and brings you to your bed. Laying you down and gently pulling the cover over you. He looks at you for a moment, brushing back some hair off your face. He quietly leaves the room and leaves the door open a little.

A few hours later you wake up. Confused as to how you got to your bed. When you leave your room you see feet hanging over the edge of your couch. Looking over the back of the couch, you see Henry asleep with headphones in. Shaking him gently his eyes open and he shoots up. "Are you okay? What do you need?"

"Henry stop. I don't need anything. Why are you still here?"

"Well, you fell asleep so I carried you to your bed cause I didn't want to leave you on the couch and I stayed in case you needed anything and I put headphones on so that I wouldn't wake you listening to music or podcasts"

"Henry, you're too sweet" You kissed him on the cheek.

"Come on, get dressed and we will get some breakfast"

"Okay, I'll be ready in 10"

"Take your time and it's my treat"

"Okay"

"Okay?"

"I've learned not to argue with you Henry" You both laugh.

"Good! Now get going!"

[belovabelova]

Little Darling | Part Five

Fanfic Summary: A young girl falls for her stepdad's best friend, Steve Rogers.

Pairing: dad's best friend! Steve Rogers x original female character

Word Count: 1482 words

Fanfic Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex and various sexual acts, age gap relationship (16 years), mentions and descriptions of suicide and self-injurious behavior (eating disorders and self-harm), mental illness, death or dying, physical violence, and blood.

Chapter Warnings: This is just pure filth. 18+ only. Proceed with caution.

Notes: I’m also posting this fanfic on Wattpad. I hope you enjoy!

(Part Four)

We kiss for a moment, lips moving together at an easy pace, before Steve slowly releases my wrists. While his hands find their way to my waist, I press my open palms against his bare chest and sit forward, focusing on the quick beat of his heart underneath his strong muscles.

His hands slide across the smooth curve of my ass, accentuated by a pair of tight black leggings, and I whimper against his mouth. I can feel the smile on his lips grow, prompting me to grind against his clothed cock in desperation. He hisses at the sudden friction, digging his nails into the back of thighs and forcing me to rock my hips against him one more time.

A surge of heat pulses to my core.

When I slide my fingers up his chest and snake them behind his neck, he dips his hands down the back of my pants and cups my ass again, squeezing and palming the tight skin with a rough grip. It makes me head spin, and I fumble against his lips.

"You like that, baby?" he teases, sounding just as amused as he is aroused. "You like when I play with that perfect little ass of yours?"

I release a trembling breath and nod, hearing Bill Murray still telling jokes on the television behind me. It isn't much of a bother and I manage to tune it out quite easily, focusing on Steve's breathing instead. It's careful and controlled. He knows what he's doing, and he knows he's doing it well.

Without warning, he pulls his hands out of my leggings and rolls us over so I'm underneath him. As I look up into his eyes, he positions one leg in between both of mine.

"Gonna make you feel good," he tells me, ghosting his lips across my soft jawline, down my neck, and over my protruding collarbones.

With my arms splayed out by my sides, I let my eyelids flutter closed, and I whimper again, focusing on his touch. His hand creeps under my shirt, his fingers dancing across my stomach, and then he massages my right breast, kneading it gently with his palm.

"You've done this before?" he asks quietly, tweaking my nipple until it pebbles.

I nod my head, even though I'm not completely positive what he's asking me.

Yes, I've had sex before— many times for someone who's only eighteen, but with a man nearly twice my age? Definitely not. With someone I barely know? Not really. It doesn't matter, though. There's always a first time for everything.

When he goes to grab my other breast and trace his finger around the nipple, I let out a moan.

"And you're legal?" he asks.

I almost roll my eyes. So many fucking questions.

Humming my confirmation, he stands above me on his knees and pulls Bucky's hoodie off. I undo the top couple of buttons on my flannel and sit up a bit, letting him pull the shirt over my head.

I didn't wear a bra today. Unfortunately, my tits are small enough that I don't have to put one on everyday, so my chest is on full display when I lay back down.

Except he's glancing at my left arm, staring at the massive white scars that cover my wrist.

"You want to take a picture?" I quip playfully, and he meets my eyes again, looking mildly shocked.

Before I jump at the opportunity to make another joke, he leans down into me and presses his mouth to mine. His lips move slow and hard, and butterflies swarm my stomach, fluttering their massive wings.

His kiss takes my breath away— quite literally, I struggle to breathe because he doesn't give me the chance. But eventually, he pulls away, dropping his forehead against mine, and I take in air.

Gripping the elastic waistband of my leggings, he starts to slide them down my thighs. I help him when they bunch at my knees, finishing the job so I'm naked underneath him, and it's almost strange. Almost.

"Do you have a condom?" he asks, cupping my pussy and sliding his finger up my folds.

Gasping and wriggling underneath him, I nod my head and glance over at my nightstand.

Reaching over the bed, he opens the drawer and fiddles around to grab a small foil packet. I bring my hands up and pull his cock out of the black gym shorts he's wearing, my eyes going wide at his size. He's much bigger than I anticipated, and it's a bit concerning, if I'm being honest.

The condoms I have definitely aren't made for him, but I figure they must offer some sort of stretch.

When he retreats from the nightstand and positions himself over me once again, he's holding a condom, so I force his shorts down his legs and he kicks them off at his feet.

I can't get a good look at his body because he's too close to me, but I imagine he's perfect. I know his torso and chest are impressive, toned and muscular like he definitely goes to the gym, but I want to see all of him. I want to touch all of him. It's only fair.

With my legs parted, I feel his shaft brush against my clit and I shiver, thousands of little nerves igniting and sending messages to my brain to react. He doesn't seem to notice, too busy opening the foil packet and rolling the tight condom onto his proud cock.

Once he's finished, he looks into my eyes, placing his hand on my bare pussy again.

"Gotta make sure you're ready for me," he says, slowly circling my clit with his fingers.

I know I'm wet. I could feel my arousal pooling when I was straddling him— when he was kneading my breasts, but I realize I need to be especially wet to take all of him. I don't want it to hurt.

He dips his fingers inside of me a few times, then continues massaging my clit, sending fireworks shooting down my legs. His touch is gold and I'm greedy for it, bucking my hips against his hand.

Attaching his mouth to my breast, he kisses and sucks on the tight skin, his mouth hot. I'm a moaning mess underneath him, wanting to feel more of him. More of this.

As he brushes his thumb across my taut nipple, lifting his head to look at me again, I whimper.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asks, taking his fingers off my clit.

My stomach twists in anticipation and I nod my head, lifting my knees up to let him in.

He kisses me, working my mouth open and dipping his tongue between my teeth. I'm so wrapped up in the kiss, I barely notice when he positions himself at my small opening, but I definitely feel it when he pushes his tip inside of me because there's a slight burn.

Bending my knees more, I try to relax my thighs as he pushes in deeper, but it's hard with his size. The stretch hurts. He's really big. I know I'll get used to it, so I force myself to power through even though I can feel tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, my throat tight.

Once he bottoms out, hitting me deep enough that my eyes roll back, I mutter his name.

"Emma, Jesus Christ," he mumbles. "You're so fucking tight. Fucking perfect for me."

Letting my gaze fall on him, I bite my lip and grip his shoulder. He pulls out slowly, then rolls his hips, sinking back inside of me.

After a few thrusts, it doesn't really hurt as much, which is an expected relief.

Holding onto him, I watch as his eyes move from my lips to my body underneath him, the room filling with the sounds of our pants and moans. "How does it feel?" he asks, meeting my gaze.

I dig my nails into his hips, breathing hard. "Like fucking heaven," I tell him, and he smiles.

As he pounds into me, his tip starts pressing against a spot that sends my stomach reeling.

"Ugh, right there," I moan out, my entire body shaking with pleasure. "Don't fucking stop. Make me come, Steve. Please. Oh, God. Feels so—ah, feels so good."

"Yeah?" He grunts, pumping faster and harder.

I hold onto his hips as he fucks me rough.

My knees come higher and bursts of pleasure explode low inside of me, sweeping down my legs. I cry out, my body locking up as I ride out my orgasm. It's never been so intense.

Steve pumps and finally thrusts deep, sinking into me and holding himself there as releases his load inside the condom. "God, baby. Fuck!" he grunts, collapsing on top of me.

As we lay still, our sweat melts together in heat and euphoria.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s stepkid

Tony Stark x Potts!child!reader

warnings: alcohol mention

a/n: i rushed these so bad i just wanted to post dhhshsnsna

prompt: y/n is pepper’s kiddo!

it was just you and your mom for a long time

pepper and y/n potts

she couldn’t keep up with you sometimes, too busy dealing with the manchild that was mister anthony edward stark

speaking of—

“uh, who’s this?” -tony, pointing at you

“mr. stark, i am so sorry, the school closed because some kid set fire to the science lab and i didn’t have time to find a sitter—”

“no, it’s fine, no need to apologize. hey, kid, you wanna sit in the boss’s chair? i’ll let you run the company for the day!” *cue you nodding* “sweet, would you mind that, ms. potts?”

“oh? no, not at all” *mouthing* “thank you”

“so, uh, what’s your name? no, don’t tell me: ketchup.”

*giggling* “y/n”

“no way! that was my second guess!”

tony wasn’t used to being around kids

he had no idea that he was actually kind of good around them

despite a few minor hiccups

“you sit in my chair and im gonna spin you around, sound like fun?”

he spun you around WAY too fast and you were diiiiizzy, also you fell off the chair

“don’t tell your mom that we did that. she may be my assistant, but she scares the shit out of me. also, don’t say ‘shit’”

dude he just thought you were a cool kid!!!

“hey, you know, ms. potts, you dont really need to hire a babysitter anymore. y/n’s doing just fine hanging out here”

“how am i not surprised you befriended an actual child?”

she still took him up on his offer, you seemed pretty happy

when your mom worked late, you passed out in tonys office

tony and you had your own little secrets (like falling off the spinning chair), tony showed you around stark tower, and you practically lived there

“i got you a happy meal from mcdonalds!” -tony every day after your school

in all honesty, you weren’t the “popular” kid at school...not even close

but tony made up for it

“y/n! i found this old racecar toy in a box of old stuff, you wanna hold onto it for me?”

you kind of grew up in stark tower tbh? it was pretty cool

and as you grew up, you started to notice more

“mr. tony, do you have a crush on my mom?”

“do i what? no, no, i do—who the hell am i kidding? you caught me”

“called it!”

after that you did everything to try and get them together

when your mom was talking to tony, you would stand behind her and wiggle your eyebrows and just taunt tony endlessly

no! tony cannot remember your mom’s birthday for the life of him! you are his calendar now

“dude, why dont you just ask JARVIS to remind you?”

“i may be a genius, but that doesn’t mean i have common sense”

“wise words, sir” -JARVIS

when tony disappeared for 3 months you were so sad???? like you were not okay at all

no

and when he came back, he literally exited the plane saying “WHERE’S ‘T-POTT??’”

(your wonderful nickname. ‘t’ for ‘tony jr.’ and ‘pott’ for ‘potts’)

“my mom missed you”

“oh, i bet she did”

“you turned my child into you, tony. i will never forgive you for this”

“well, at least y/n was here to fill in for me, huh?”

tony wanted to show you the arc reactor but he was actually afraid of scarring you lmfaoooo

but he did let you in on the iron man secret (he knew you wouldn’t snitch)

and just to make sure:

“if you dont tell anyone, i’ll buy you a car when you turn 16”

“man, that’s like, forever away”

“good, maybe you’ll forget by then”

ur mom kinda maybe sorta found out abt iron man :/ she told you that tony was a bad influence

“mom! no, tony’s cool! he’s like a superhero”

“no, sweetie, he’s a rich guy with issues. we’re leaving”

that didn’t last long

not long at all

and soon they FINALLY got together

“jeez, i thought you two would never stop pining after each other”

“couldnt have done it without my wingman” -tony *fistbump*

“as thanks can i have my own iron man suit?”

“yes.” *pepper glaring at him* “no.”

sooner or later your mom and you moved into tony’s house and you got a really big room!!!!

it was completely decked out

king sized bed, flatscreen tv, mini-fridge, microwave, computer, your own bathroom with a smaller tv, a poster of tony??? (you vandalized it and put it in his workshop), and more!!!

okay you were spoiled

“do you like it here? are you sure i made the right choice?” -pepper

“are you kidding, mom? this is awesome! plus, you’re happy, i’m happy, tony’s happy, i think JARVIS is even happy!”

“i am, mx. potts. simply ecstatic” -JARVIS

pepper was really happy!! it was a pretty cool family

you started giving your school tony’s number if you ever got in trouble, you knew he’d cover for you

“mr. potts, is it?”

“sure”

“your child, y/n, punched another student in the face today. we’re very disappointed in their behavior”

“why’d they punch the kid?”

“well, the other student punched y/n first”

“HAH! thank you for wasting my time. send y/n back to class and call me back if something important comes up”

he literally gave you a high five when you got home

“i gave him a black eye!”

“i couldn’t be more proud. i mean, i dont condone violence, but self defense is a whole other story”

a little help in the workshop, tony asks you to hold the flashlight

“why don’t you get one of your robots to hold this for you?”

“are you kidding me, you’re complaining? we’re having stepdad/stepkid bonding time! and dum-e can’t do anything right, i dont trust him”

youve had a few theme park trips as a family ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

also tony has 100% told you to wait in the car and then left you alone for 2+ hours

“i’m not like a regular dad, im a step-dad. want some beer? you can have a little sip. i’d rather you do it in the house”

your mother actually does love how he actually cares about you!

“y/n is 12% my responsibility” -tony

“tony, you are impossible” -pepper

no avengering for you! pepper said no!!!!!!

disappointed but not surprised

iron man 3: y/n potts is put through the wringer

Text Message to Mr. Tony: bro you better come get your girl, me and happy are watching this other guy flirting with her. he’s showing her pics of his ‘big brain’

Mr. Tony: HE WHAT

Text Message to Mr. Tony: Tony he looks creepy i don’t want him to be my new stepdad do something!!!

anyways ur house kinda blew up and ur mom and you kinda got kidnapped and u were right abt that guy being creepy and thankfully no experiments were done on you but like your mom kinda almost died and her and tony were fine!!! all good in the end

you met mr. col. james rhodes that day

“aw, you’re the kid ive heard so much about” -rhodey

“you mean the coolest kid in the world?check.”

“you cant tell me you aren’t tony’s biological child, good god”

you got to meet the avengers later on too! (you’d already met natasha tho, only briefly)

“i know it can be a little overwhelming, right? meeting all these heros, legends even—” -rhodey

“oh, my god, is that thor? thor!!” -you, leaving rhodey in the dust

literally why does pepper trust you around tony something always goes wrong there were literally robots attacking, you were only at avengers tower bc your mom was busy with the company and she thought you’d be safe with the avengers. the AVENGERS.

“please dont tell your mom that i created a bad robot that tried to kill us. the robot will be the least of our problems” -tony

he made happy pick you up and you had to miss out on FUN and it sucked a lot

“it’s okay, y/n! i’m fun, too!” -happy

then your mom and tony took a break and your life got mega-boring for a while, but they weren’t separated for that long. you try not to think about it. it was brutal

Mr. Tony: Does she miss me?

New Message to Mr. Tony: I think so. Either that or she’s crying and drinking wine in the dark for no reason.

Mr. Tony: Damn it, now I feel bad. I miss her a lot. Oh, also, the Avengers say ‘hi,’ I’m in Germany with some bad news, I’ll explain later if you don’t see it on TV first, and I found you the perfect friend! His name is Peter and I think you’d like the school he goes to, it’s in Midtown. Smart kid school.

New Message to Mr. Tony: I’ll look into it, thanks. Also, I don’t like how those all connect. Please update me asap

watching the news to see several avengers arrested, cap on the run, and more!

“maybe it was good i didn’t fall in with the avengers”

tony and pepper finally got back together and you actually transferred to midtown high! peter and his friend group accepted you quickly, it was great. you and flash unfortunately had the most in common

you’d literally text happy right next to peter and he’d immediately reply to you. it hurt peter’s feelings

Momma: Sweetie! I’m working in the office late, leftovers are in the fridge, hope you have a wonderful day at school! 💕

👉👈the vulture tried to kill you for being tony’s stepkid, tony made peter promise to protect you

“y/n, you gotta stay out of harm’s way. mr. stark gave me an actual mission and it’s terrifying, i have to make sure you stay safe”

legit why the fuck was this old man tryna kill you bro grow up

anyyyywayssss your mom and tony got engaged!!

“wow, i thought the day would never come!!” -you

ppl told you tony isnt your stepdad bc ur mom and him werent married but who tf asked

why is the earth always in fucking danger

you and peter were just vibing on the field trip bus and all the sudden: space donut

“go! i’ll cover for you...FRIDAY, call tony”

“...hi there, little one”

“what the fuck”

“oh, so you see the aliens, too? well, at least im not crazy”

tony stark has left the atmosphere

you and your mom were kinda......not chillin tho

she and you didn’t sleep for a few nights, then ppl just straight up disappeared

plot twist: you survived the snap and your family was lucky to be alive, you even got a little sister who became a big handful!

only bad thing was all your friends dusted and you were pretty lonely

but watching morgan grow up kept you busy

“ahhh, shes so big!”

happy times in bad times

bad times!!!!! bc after five years thanos came back as thanos from like ten years ago. outdated thanos. obsolete thanos.

but you made your first and only appearance in the suit tony actually designed for you many years ago

you should have just stayed home tho bc that fight didnt pass the vibe check

“please dont tell me he...no, no, no, no, no”

you and your mom latched onto each other in tears, tony was one of the best people in your life, he made you and your mom two of the happiest people on earth

best stepdad a kid could ever ask for

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiantfavs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //

[the-slasher-files]

Hello, can i request 16 and 46 for the prompt thing with a S/o with low self steem with Bo? Please and sorry for my english 🥺🖤

OOOH ANGST!!!! I love it thank you! and honestly your English is perfect :) It’s like these 2 sentences were made for a reader x bo scenario!

So I went a little wild with this that’s why it’s a bit longer (1k plus words) but I really love how it turned out.. also Bo maybe says ‘I love you’ for the first time when he’s sober :o hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

THE KITCHEN FLOOR 

WORD PROMPT:   “I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me” AND “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Today was just one of those days. 

You felt your mind weigh heavy on everything you did. It badgered you every second of the day, pounding your self-esteem lower and lower with every glance in the mirror and every tug of your baggy clothes. You couldn’t escape the constant hounding and you felt almost uncomfortable sitting in your own skin; as if bugs were crawling on top of you, and as if a fire was set beneath your feet and every moment you struggled to hold yourself away from the burn. 

Bo was at his dingy garage all day and Vincent was in the basement making more creations for the town, and honestly, you never knew where Lester was at any given moment but he defiantly wasn’t in the house. This left you all alone in the reticent home, just your thoughts and heartbeat. Sure you could go down to the basement to have company with Vincent, but he never liked to be disturbed while working, and you could go to the gas station but something was blocking you in the house; your demons wanted you away from the sunlight and easing voices of the people you loved, they wanted you all to themselves today. You let them win today for you didn’t have the energy to fight it. 

As the sun faded behind the native Louisiana wood that surrounded Ambrose the voices became deafening, and Bo’s absence was louder than the voices at times. Skull crushing and heart aching. You didn’t care if it was his yelling or large footsteps creaking on the hardwood, you just needed to hear something else besides the twisted thoughts that were burning, and chugging along like a freight train threatening to run itself off track and kill the engineers. 

Bo will never love you... Bo has never thought you were beautiful... Bo hates you... hates your body... hates your love... Bo just wants some skinny perfect woman... one from his trophy wall... one better than you... one to satisfy his every need better than you ever could...    

Tears stung in your eyes painfully, as you tried to make yourself busy with dinner. Every cut of a vegetable and every stir on the bowl was becoming a burden, you felt the lump in your throat build and tears spilled out in a stream much to your dismay. Anger, frustration, sadness and pain became all too much for your psyche to handle, and in an outburst you pushed everything off the counter, carelessly letting dinner go to waste and everything around you crash and clang against the linoleum.  

Silent sobs sealed your airway and you sank to the floor slowly with your back scraping against the fridge, raking your shaky hands through your hair, tears falling wherever they pleased. Breathing seemed fleeting at this point, you felt as if you were drowning in the ocean, all alone, with sharks circling you, taunting your demise. The sobs began to become more painful and broken wails hung in the humid Louisiana air, the force and strain made it feel like you were vomiting but betrayed the fact that your throat was closing against the laments.  

Suddenly there were heavy footfalls coming towards you, it was clear as day who they were from; the give away was that the gate was a little unbalanced from the apparent stiffness Bo had always carried in his right leg. The steps stopped for a moment as he was taking in your balled up shaking frame under the flickering fluorescents of the old house. Food, utensils, bowls and plates were all scattered around you like war zone debris, and you were the broken soldier in the middle waiting for the end. You knew he was standing there but you didn’t care; he was never one for comforting you, why would he care tonight? 

“Baby... Baby girl wha- shit” Bo stuttered but quickly came to encase you in his muscular arms, groaning as he sat in front of you, his legs caged you, feeling every sob, every painful sharp inhale. “Shhh, shhh, baby it’s ok” he cooed, trying to be soothing though it went against his gruff nature. 

His warm body caging you and the unmistakable smell of gas, cigarettes, and some sort of sweet undertone to his cologne that you just couldn’t place, made your body ease enough to catch a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Opening your swollen eyes with a sting, you were somehow surprised to meet his worried stormy blues, eying you like a hawk; his intensity made you force your eyes closed, jerking your head downwards and off to the side, not wanting him to see you so broken. Stifling your cries by biting your lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste along the soft flesh, letting whine escape.

His rough fingertips gingerly caressed your wet chin, commanding you to look up at him; though Bo’s fingers were gentle, his blanketing dominance coated every movement he made effortlessly. Once again your eyes met; pain and concern clashing.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” He spoke softly letting his cigarette stained breath ghost over you. The question brought a new set of tears that started to swell up, teasing to fall through wet lashes. Bo didn’t force you to speak and he just let you catch your breath and collect your thoughts, studying every part of your face as if it was new to him. Checking for any apparent injuries that might be causing the sobs; at least that he could fix that, but no, these wounds were behind the skin, in the deep tissues of your heart and brain, strangling them.

“Bo... I just-” You weakly strained against the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry” pulling away from him you saw something dangerous flutter behind his eyes; Bo was full of his own troubles and insecurities too, and your choice of words fueled something under the surface of him, some deepness he wasn’t ready to face yet. His touch became a little tighter, slowly and agonizing like a python, squeezing the truth out of you. Your apology was out of your embarrassment for him having to see you like this, but he thought it was for cheating on him or harming someone he loved; ultimately resulting in your slow painful death. 

Before allowing his anger rise you quietly cried “Bo, baby, I’m just having a bad day... the voices in my head just wouldn’t shut up... I-I just broke” He relaxed his grip slightly and pulled you against his chest with a huff, relaxing around you. Bo was no stranger to the way you felt, he had ended up on the exact spot on the kitchen floor many times before, he was probably drunk when it happened, however, but he understood. In a strange way, you mirrored him like broken glass glued together. 

Clutching his coveralls like holding onto a lifeline you stained them with tears, as he moved his hand to cradle your skull closer to him if it were possible, carding his hand through your hair, and his other hand snaked around your waist. His warmth was welcomed but dangerous and painful, loving a broken soul like his hurt all too much; behind every kiss and pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was better off with someone else, and think about the day he doesn’t come home. Bo’s love was addicting and one day you knew it would be ripped away and you would be left scratching and clawing for any remnants that could be salvaged.   

“I- I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me,” weeping and shaking you let your insecurities come to the light allowing Bo to see the sick but not unfamiliar thoughts. “I’m fucking broken... I’m nothing you should have, just damaged goods... You can find someone much more beautiful and stronger... I’m not what you want” 

Spilling your guts like a wounded animal begging to live Bo’s hands moved to your shoulders, now pushing you away to look at him with authority oozing off, it made you stop; thinking he was going to lose his temper, and you just waited for the yelling or for him to drag you to the bedroom. The yelling never came. The forceful grip of his large hands never appeared. Just his eyes hardened on you, the blue becoming dark and foreboding, like the black sea that has swallowed a thousand ships.

“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...” He begged then allowed his fortified walls to come down for a brief moment worried you would shatter him completely, “You’re my everything baby... Why don’t you see that?” his voice broke at the vulnerability. The knights were down, off their posts and able to rest after 20 some years of being serviced, taught and berated. This was like a searing knife to his core, slipping between the bones and waiting for it to be yanked out and have him bleed out on the linoleum, alone. “I- I love you.” 

Those words, the three words he spoke echoed loud and clear in your brain. The only time he had ever said it was after 5 beers and sloppy sex. Bo was sober tonight and he was painfully aware of it. He said it without flinching or moving his gaze from yours. This is the moment you waited for, after almost 2 full years of rage, blood, tears, love, fights, and pain; it was out there crystal clear. Of course, you had hoped it would be on a scenic hill looking out at the night sky, with your fingers interlaced and shallow breaths matching each other in perfect harmony; not on the cold floor with glass and destruction around you, brokenly clutching one another. However, you were going to take what you could get.    

Tears began to flow again but for a whole different reason, as you cupped his strong square jaw, running your thumb on the long jagged scar he carried with grace. “Bo Sinclair, I love you too.” He crashed his lips against yours, his hands were everywhere on you, he craved you, he needed you as much as he did the oxygen to breathe.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Never free of myself

Never free of my mind

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3840

Warnings: self harm, depression

Summary: Reader struggles with self harm and one day while training with Bucky, she gets found out. 

A/N: I know I’m writing slower lately, but I’ve been doing a lot of preparation for college. 

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

“Just stop,” you mumbled to yourself.

You hated crying. You hated how weak it made you feel. You liked being in control, and you could control your emotions for the most part, but sometimes it would just be too much. And when that happened, you were always angry. Your parents always told you not to cry when you got down, and you quickly learned to hide the tears until you were out of sight. 

You had been battling depression for a while now, and you had gotten no support from your family. They hadn’t been at all empathetic, just told you to get over it and appreciate the life you have. You never really had a reason to feel so low, so you couldn’t really argue with them. You just masked the shame and pain inside so nobody else could see.

Years later, and you had it down.

You worked and lived with the Avengers now. You had been recruited for your ability to become invisible. When you first discovered your power as a young teen, you were freaked out and it made you feel even more alone than you already did. Soon after you realized it was a great way to escape a situation or avoid people all together.

You trained with them, Steve and Bucky helping you learn to fight so you could join them on missions. You were an extremely shy person at first, using mostly facial expressions and body language to communicate. But after a few weeks you began to relax around everyone, being more yourself than you had felt in a really long time.

You bonded well with Bucky in particular. The two of you liked to keep to yourself and didn’t really want anyone too close. You were both used to being alone, and you loved that someone finally seemed to understand you. The two of you became really good friends, him trusting you to talk openly about his past while you listened. But you had never told him about yours. You didn’t trust anyone with that information.

You let nobody in on your secrets. You pushed them down for when you were alone in your room at night, where no one could see or hear you. Back in your teen years, you would resort to hurting yourself as a means of coping since no one would listen to you. You didn’t know how else to handle it. And no one noticed that either, so you didn’t think it was much of a problem. You felt like you deserved it, and it helped to numb the pain for when it became too much to control.

It helped you take back the reins on your own brain. 

You were currently in your room, sitting on the floor against your bed. The sun was long gone and the streets were busy with lights, the only thing illuminating your room at the moment. Besides that it was dark, but you could see enough to be able to do what you were about to.

You had a blade that was given to you for self defense in your right hand, left arm extended in front of you. You had had enough of your tears and you just wanted them to stop before they got so out of control that someone heard you. You brought the blade to your upper arm and sliced, breathing in sharply at the sting that came when the air met the cut. 

You felt a little relief, but it wasn’t enough quite yet to help you feel as calm as you needed to. Angry at yourself, you brought the knife back to your arm to make a new mark just below it.

“Stop.”

Slice

“Fucking.”

Slice.

“Crying.”

Slice.

You said this through gritted teeth, gripping the blade tighten and pressing a little harder each time. You kept repeating your motions until you entered a silent peace, tears giving way to feeling numb and you could breath easily. Sighing, you put the blade down and looked at your arm. There were plenty of scars covering your body from years of this kind of release, some deep and some thin, some healing and some just memories, and some purple and raised and others white and faded. Your newest cuts were bleeding steadily, dripping from your elbow to the floor, and there was blood on your shirt as well.

You leaned your head back against the mattress and closed your eyes. You didn’t feel the need to take care of your cuts, you usually just let them clot and clean the dried blood after. You didn’t think you deserved to take care of them. You didn’t really care if they got infected. Things always worked out in the end anyways. So you waited in the blissful silence, the only noise being your breathing and heart rate which was pounding still from earlier.

You don’t know how much time passed, but eventually you stood and made your way to the bathroom. You decided that a shower would be the best and quickest way to take care of the dried blood. You turned on the water and threw your clothes into a head on the floor. You’d deal with the blood stains later. You stepped in and winced as the water hit the fresh cuts, slightly enjoying the secondary pain you were receiving. 

You took your time in the shower, enjoying the warm water as it was washing over your sore body. You didn’t know why you were sore really, it just felt like your body was constantly aching. Eventually you turned the water off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself and stepping back into your room and walking to your dresser to find something light to wear to bed.

You always wore long sleeves and pants when you were anywhere other than your room. You didn’t have a choice in the matter; no one knew about your little secret and you had no intention of letting it out. They’d never understand, know the voices in your head pulling you to the darkness. But, in your room alone, you were fine in a tank top and shorts. No one to hide from, no reason to hide.

You pulled on your clothes and laid down on your bed, careful to not lay on your left side. You didn’t want to have to wash the sheets again like you had a few times before. You stared at the wall for a few minutes, still numb. Eventually you were able to drift off to sleep, despite the negative thoughts still plaguing your mind

No one saw or knew about what you were going through. You would always say that you were just fine even though you weren’t. You were secretly dying inside. And not one person had a clue. Well, almost no one.

Bucky had noticed a few things about you. You were naturally a reserved person, but you seemed to have built these walls up around you. He was only able to recognize it because he had done the same when he had joined the team, scared to hurt someone or be judged. He just wanted to lay low. You had always listened to him talking about his past and everything that he had gone through, yet you never did the same. But a few times it looked like you really wanted to say something, but your walls would go back up almost as if you had never let them down. He would notice how every now and then you would drop your smile, but once again it was back as if it was always there. It made him wonder, and he wanted to help but he didn’t know what to say. 

You were so sick of holding everything down, pushing people away before they got too close. You didn’t want anyone to see what you saw. You were never free of yourself. Sometimes you did want to reach out, you did want help, but you weren’t sure what people would do if they knew the truth. And you weren’t ready to risk them running away from you. You were ashamed and afraid. But you sure as hell weren’t going to let anyone know that. 

The morning came much too soon for your liking, and you groaned as you sat up. You knew that this was a morning you’d be training with Bucky, and you didn’t want him to come looking for you because you weren’t ready. 

Reluctantly, you stood and put on a long sleeve athletic shirt and leggings and pulled your hair into a ponytail. Your arm was still sore, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. You made your way down to the gym in the tower to see Bucky standing, waiting for you. He smiled at you as a good morning and you walked over to him, doing a few warm ups before the two of you got started.

The two of you were sparing today, and the two of you were a sweating mess. You were taking a break, bringing a towel to your face and reaching for your water bottle. Bucky looked at you and asked you, “Why are you wearing long sleeves? You must be dying.”

You nearly choked on your water but played it off and shrugged your shoulders. “I dunno. Sometimes I run cold.”

He looked you up and down. He personally was overheating in his tank top and shorts, he couldn’t imagine how you were feeling right now. “Yeah, okay. Seriously, what’s up with it?”

You tried to look as innocent as you could and shrugged again. “Personal preference I guess.” He opened his mouth to ask another question, but before he could you stood and said “We should get back to it.”

After a moment he reluctantly said “Alright.” He was still unconvinced and curious. But he’d have to wait until later to learn more. The two of you moved back to the mat and began sparring again, him throwing most of the punches and you blocking. You were distracted though, and Bucky took advantage of that and grabbed your arm and turned around, flipping you over his shoulder. 

You landed on your left side, crushing your arm in the process and couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped your mouth. Immediately Bucky came over to you, and you grabbed your arm in pain as your cuts were reopened. Thank God your shirt was black and it wouldn’t show. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Shit I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You tried to breathe through the pain and shook your head. “Not your fault. I just landed on my arm wrong, no big deal.”

Bucky bought it at first, but then he realized that you were rubbing your upper arm. If it had something to do with the fall it was much more likely to be your shoulder, elbow, or wrist. But you were rubbing your bicep. 

Swallowing, he asked “Y/n what’s really wrong?”

You looked at him, panic growing inside you but you tried your best not to let it show. You let out a nervous laugh that you hoped he didn’t pick up on and asked “What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s going on with you? What happened to your arm?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know what you mean. I just landed on it wrong, it’s fine.”

“Y/n -”

“BUCK IT’S FINE.” you yelled, surprising both of you. You were never the type to get angry, and Bucky had never heard you so much as get frustrated before. You never allowed yourself to be around others. You began to panic more, and stood up, but what you didn’t realize was that blood had seeped through your shirt and onto your hand. 

But Bucky did

His eyes widened and he stood up with you, grabbing your right wrist and inspecting your hand. Your eyes widened too and you tried to wrestle your hand from his grasp but it was no use. You wanted to make yourself invisible right now but that would do nothing about him having you in his grasp. 

“Y/n, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

You sighed. “It’s nothing, really -”

“When did this even happen? You haven’t been on a mission in almost a week and you didn’t get injured. What happened?”

Tears were pricking your eyes and you said quietly, “Please just drop it.”

He shook his head and said “I can’t do that. Come on, let’s go down to medical.” He moved to walk towards the door but you stopped him yelling “NO. Please, no it’s fine I’m fine… It’s not a big deal Buck.”

Confused and concerned, he stepped closer to you and looked you in the eyes. You shifted nervously and looked away. “Y/n look at me.” When you met his gaze again he could see the tears building in your eyes. Slowly, he asked “What happened?”

You shook your head, feeling trapped. You didn’t want him to know, but you didn’t know what to say. “Buck, I… I can’t…” you said looking away again. Swallowing, Bucky said “Let’s go back to your room, where it’s more private.”

You, knowing it was worthless to protest, nodded your head and started walking to the door. He had finally let go of your hand and you crossed your arms, hiding your hands in case anyone else was around the compound. 

You and Buck made it back to your room and Bucky closed the door behind him, leaning up against it. You sat on your bed, arms still crossed and eyes downcast, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

Gently, Bucky asked “Please tell me what’s going on y/n.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It won’t make any sense.”

He crossed his arms and said “Try me.”

“Why do you even care? No one else does.”

A bit taken aback, Bucky furrowed his eyebrows together. “What do you mean no one cares? Everyone Here loves you and cares about you. And I’m your friend, y/n. You listen to me whenever I need someone, I just want to do the same for you.”

You covered your face with your hands, resting your elbows on your knees. Tears began trailing down your face. “I don’t even know where to start,” you blurted out. You didn’t want to hold it down anymore, and even if you did, you didn’t think Bucky was going to let you. Sitting back up, you clasped your hands together, staring at the wall. You shook your head. “I’m a fucking train wreck. Always have been. No one cared so I learned to hide it away, I didn’t tell anyone. Something bout attention.” you let out a bitter laugh. “I learned how to deal with it on my own so I never tried to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to bother you guys.”

Bucky remained silent, listening attentively. He was getting a horrible feeling in his stomach as he realized why you were bleeding. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly asked, “And how do you deal with it?”, knowing the answer already. 

Taking a deep breath, you stood up. Bucky was confused as to what you were doing, but then you pulled your shirt over your head and dropped it on the ground. Bucky couldn’t help the widening of his eyes or the sharp intake of breath at what he saw. Your entire torso and both arms were almost completely covered with scars. Old and new, deep and shallow. But the ones that concerned him the most were the ones from last night.

They were deep, and probably needed stitches. But it was too late for that. He stepped closer to you, trying to get a closer look. He was speechless, and the color was draining from his face as he looked closer. “Y/n…”

“I’m sorry.” you choked out, sobs beginning to overtake your body. “Fuck…” you muttered, trying to turn away to hide. You suddenly felt like the room was much too small, and you did not want to appear weaker than you already did right now.

Bucky pulled you into him, despite your resistance. You tensed up and tried to push away, but Bucky kept a tight hold on you though, and eventually you gave in, melting into his hold and crying harder. It was no use trying to stop it. You were overwhelmed, you felt out of control, and you wanted nothing more than to run away and get some control back.

You kept sputtering apologies but Bucky kept shushing you, not having any of it. In his eyes you had nothing to be sorry for, he was worried, but he had no idea it would be this bad. He wanted to help you but he felt like he was in way over his head. All he knew was that right now you needed someone to lean on. 

You were trying to get a handle on your emotions, but the more you tried it seemed to just get worse. Your breathing was getting shallower and your heart rate was getting faster. You felt trapped and you just wanted him to leave so you could take care of it.

Bucky had picked up on this and held you a little tighter, as tightly as he could without hurting you. “Breath doll. I got you, you’re safe.” He deepened his own breathing and rubbed your back, trying to get you to match his. “Bucky please, just...fuck I… I just need to…” you brought one of your hands to your sides, digging your nails into your skin trying to get some relief.

He hushed you again, pulling away your hand despite your whimpering. “I know you feel like you do, but you don’t need it. Let me help you y/n. Just try to breathe with me.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling helpless in the situation. You needed to feel better but the only way you knew how was through hurting yourself. Which Bucky wasn’t making an option. You closed your eyes and balled your hands into fists against his chest, trying to focus on your inhaling and exhaling. You tried to slow it down, dragging out each breath like Bucky was. It took a long time, but eventually your panic fell and only your tears remained.

Now that you felt a little more in control, shame and embarrassment at what had just happened began to overtake you. How could you be so pathetic as to crack like this? You suddenly felt extremely exposed and vulnerable, and you wanted to hide away. Go back to the way it was. You tried to wrestle yourself out of his tight hold, but it was no use.

Bucky still held you tightly, afraid you would start again if he let go. “I’m sorry y/n. That I didn’t notice, tht I didn’t say anything when I did, and that no one else did. Those people in your past were wrong. You deserve so much more than this. You’re not a mistake y/n. I may not fully understand y/n, but I want to.”

You shook your head. “I shouldn’t have pulled you into this. You don’t deserve this on top of everything you went through. I - there’s no escaping this, and I’ve accepted that.” You looked back up to meet his eyes. “You don’t deserve to watch me unravel. Just… try to forget this.”

Bucky’s heart broke a little bit more for you. That you didn’t want help because you didn’t want to hurt anyone. That you truly believed that you were a burden. The hopelessness and the casualty of how you said that there was no escaping this...it scared him. Still, he tried not to show this and shook his head. Pulling You back into his arms.

“You know I can’t do that y/n, even if I wanted to. You don;t have to do this alone. You don’t have to hide from me, you can’t taint me. You are not and never could be a burden to me or anyone on this team. I know this helps and you feel like it’s the only thing that will, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” He felt tears pricking his eyes. “I can’t stand the idea of you hurting yourself. You’ve been hurting for long enough. Let me help you, please.”

You sighed, closing your eyes and shaking your head slightly. “I want to, I want to so bad,” you whispered. “How can you help me?”

Bucky tried to piece together a few ideas that would help you while not invading your privacy either. “Well, I’m always here to talk to. You know I’m up at all hours of the day y/n. I’m just a few doors down. I would like to take what you’re using but I understand if it’s too soon for that. Just please, tell me before you do this. And if you can’t, just...find me after.”

You pondered for a few moments before you asked, “Are you going to tell anyone?”

Bukcy sighed a little. “I won’t tell anyone you don’t want me to. But…” he started, speaking gently so as not to freak you out with his request, “I think we need to tell Bruce.”

You tensed and shook your head, and Bucky continued “Y/n some of these are really bad. You should have gotten stitches. They could get infected and make things a whole lot worse than they are now.” You had started crying again, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it. 

After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked “Do you trust me?”

You nodded your head slowly.

Bucky let out a small breath of relief. “Can I bring you down to medical?”

You weighed your options a little, coming to the conclusion that maybe this was best. “Will you stay with me?”

“Whatever you need y/n”

You took a moment before nodding again. Bucky smiled a little before saying “We all care about you y/n. Always will.”

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“Anytime,” he said, giving you a small squeeze before releasing his grip on you. You immediately grabbed your shirt and pulled it back on, crossing your arms over your chest as you met his gaze again. He gave you a soft smile which you returned shyly. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I’m your friend. And you would do the same for me.” he replied.

You looked down and nodded a little. After a few moments Bucky asked “You ready to go?”

You bit your lip nervously. “Yeah. yeah I think so.”

[izaiyah23]

mom is drunk.. again ✌🏽😘

we got in a fight earlier. I had been grounded for about 2 months and just got my phone back. my mother said she was going to tell my father that i had my phone back. (they’re divorced so there’s separate housing. My dad is manipulative, abusive. and an alcoholic and I refuse to see/ OR talk to him.) I told her i don’t want him to know i got my phone back. i don’t want him contacting me.

Now my mother’s father had died about two years ago. She grew up without him until college, where they reconnected. My uncle, however, chose not to get back in contact with his dad. My mother was so distraught about her dads death, she shut down. For LITERAL YEARS. She then started to drink excessively. She started to be mean, just like how my father was.

It was much easier to manage. She didn’t put my life in jeopardy by driving me around drunk (LIKE MY DAD). but she was still mean.

over the course of two years, her drinking slowed down. The only reason why it did was because i had attempted to kill myself. When i came back, she stayed sober for about 5 days before she got drunk again and told me i was selfish. She said that i will miss my father after he’s gone and i’m being selfish by not giving my father a chance.

Her words used to play in my head as id self harm. I attempted to kill myself for a total of 3 times. My mental health is terrible. I’ve been living with suicidal thoughts since i was 12. my father was so cruel to my mother, that she sought out drugs as a way to escape from him. Once their divorce happened, I was forced to see him for 3 days a week. He would drink a lot. He would speed. He would tell me i’m making things up. that i’m lying.

I drew the line when my little cousin Jocey was in the car with us. i held on to her as my father swerved and speeded up and down streets. I refused to see him after that. That was 2 years ago in february. My mother didn’t want to hire a lawyer, but i refused to see him, and she would constantly have him come back so that i’d be forced to say hi. She did eventually hire a lawyer where the custody arrangement is up to her and me.

i am now 16, and is recovering from a recent suicide attempt in November. I couldn’t see a way out. I didn’t deserve a way out. My mother would scream at me that i was selfish. I didn’t want to burden her anymore. I tried to hang myself in the closet. I blacked out. The first thing i woke up to was my mom calling my grandparents. She said “look at your grandchild! She’s fine! She’s just laying there for attention. Don’t give it to her.”

My grandparents took me to a hospital, then once they got the all clear, I went to a baker act facility. While I was there, my mother told me I wasn’t allowed to come home until i said out loud “i had tried to kill myself by hanging and that i was sorry.” There we’re other people there who get triggered by it so i said no, i’m not gonna say that. She said that i have to, if i want to come home. I screamed at her that i tried to hang myself and i kept saying “are you happy that i said it now?!?” she said yes. She said to apologize to her for being selfish. I said “screw you” and hung up the phone.

She’ll point out my neck scar every once in a while to say i need to put scar cream on. I get so upset because it’s barely even noticeable, unless you know what to look for.

While she was screaming at me about my dad today, i couldn’t help but to think that i am the problem. This is what lead me to attempt to end my life. Is suicide selfish? I never meant it to be. What i kept thinking is “I make them all hate me. I hate me. I made them all hate me.” (I had gotten in serious trouble with my family) I also thought: “There’s no point anymore. I give and I give and I give and I GIVE. And nothing that i do matters. I’m a fuck up.” My mother wanted to force me to drop out of high school. I’ve been failing this year. I’ve tried so hard to stay alive that nothing else matters to me. (Besides people, of course.)

I forgot where i was going with this story but i said that i didn’t want my father in my life. I said i was content without a father. (Honestly, I am.) She said “that’s sad. You have a father, and you’re not giving him a chance.” I have!! I’ve given him SO DAMN MANY. I will NEVER fucking treat my kids like he treated me. My mom said “he loves you, he didn’t love me. Stop trying to take my pain for yourself. It’s not yours.” BUT LIKE HUHHHH???? HE TREATED ME TERRIBLY TOO!

I don’t want him in my life, but it looks like i won’t get to choose because of my mother. I don’t care if he’s blood. (like my mother says). I don’t care if i am his child. He is a FUCKING sperm donor at best. To me that is what he is. I don’t care if he loves me. He put me in danger so many times, and I am still SCARED of him, that i’ll have nightmares sometimes. I don’t care. He was supposed to love me, not harm me. He hurt me, and pretended like it never happened.

My first homecoming a boy groped me without my permission. i felt all of him. I couldn’t move. I was scared. I told my dad and he said “was it a black or hispanic boy?” (my dad is dominican) i said that i wasn’t sure. he said “well he probably asked you to dance and you didn’t hear him.” I just looked at my dad. He continued “y’know when i was in high school if a girl said she didn’t feel like dancing, she’s playing hard to get. That you’re supposed to pull her up from he chair and dance with her.” My father had ultimately gave this boy permission to touch his child.

I don’t want my father at my graduation. I don’t want him at my wedding. I never want him to meet my children. I don’t want to stay in contact with him. I honestly don’t want to keep in contact with my mom.

what i’m asking is: Am I the asshole for not wanting my father back in my life?

ALSO ALSO:

I’m terrified to fall in love. Like seriously. I’m looking for love in places that aren’t healthy. I’m scared of men. I’m bisexual, but i’m like actually scared of men.

[harlowsbae]

Always

This is my first ever Draco Malfoy Reader so please don’t hate me. I haven’t written a single imagine in years.

Trigger Warnings: self-harm, depression

Draco watched as the shell of the woman next to him tried furiously to keep up with Professor Slughorn’s directions. When Y/N first came to Hogwarts she was lively and bubbly. She was kind to everyone she met, even Saint Potter much to Draco’s displeasure. But during fourth year when the news broke that she was a half-blood Y/N slowly began to disappear inside herself. The rest of the Slytherins began to look at her with disgust. A half-blood Slytherin was just preposterous. Draco knew he was also to blame. He had joined in on the taunting and laughed at the jokes.  All his life, Draco was immersed in the pure-blood philosophy of things. Anything less was just unacceptable, his father had reminded him of that every day up to his departure for Hogwarts five years ago. 

“Excuse me” came a soft voice from next to him. 

Draco looked over at YN, noticing her long curly brown hair and chocolate colored eyes that peeked up at him nervously through long lashes.

“What?” Draco sneered at the girl.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..Professor Slughorn has partnered us up for the Draught of Living Death” Y/N said.

Draco felt his face soften at her nervousness, but he quickly shook it away and scowled again.

“Go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron.” he ordered.

Y/N got up quickly knocking her stool over in the process. Pansy looked over and laughed, muttering about how half-bloods were just as pathetic as mudbloods. Draco felt his heart tighten as Y/N’s cheeks turned red and she quickly shuffled to the shelves to get the ingredients. She returned a few minutes later with her arms full.

“Start cutting up the Valerian sprigs while I juice these beans” he told her. Y/N nodded and began doing what he said. Her curls falling over face to hide her once again red cheeks. Draco smirked, the effect he had on the girl not going unnoticed. He could feel Pansy’s glare on Y/N. Her obsession with Draco was unwavering no matter how many times he rejected her. She was a short fling that meant nothing to him, simply something to cure his boredom last year.

Y/N began measuring the ingredients and putting them into the cauldron slowly stirring as she went. Draco looked over just as Y/N began to add the Valerian sprigs noticing that she was adding too many.

“Y/L/N stop you’re-” but it was too late, Draco quickly backed away as the potion bubbled and exploded splashing Y/N with the hot liquid. Her robes instantly had holes in them and her hands were covered in burns from shielding her face.

“For fucks sake Y/L/N! Didn’t your muggle father teach you anything about following directions before he offed himself?” Pansy sneered at her, other Slytherins quickly joined in laughing and smiling.

Y/N tried hard to hold her head up and fight back the tears, but Draco saw one fall down her cheek as she rushed from the classroom, wishing he could wipe it away for her.

“Well class I think we had better finish there for today” Professor Slughorn interrupted, “Put a small bit of your potion in a vial to be graded.”

Y/N POV:

You skipped classes the rest of the day. Too embarrassed to face anyone after Potions. You knew your professors would lecture you tomorrow and give you extra work but you didn’t care. You stared down at the picture of your father, silent sobs wracking your body as you hid behind a statue in one of the corridors. No one hardly ever walked down it as the classrooms sat empty so it was the perfect place to hide. 

He had committed suicide during your fourth year. You had found out when  you had gone home for the holidays. He had left a note but your mother had never let you read it. Instead she made you pack all of your things to return to Hogwarts with you. You hadn’t seen her since as she had decided you were too much of a burden without your father. You spent your summer holidays with your grandmother from your father’s side, but you weren’t necessarily close to her either as she was a muggle and tended to be afraid of you.

You had been extremely close to your father growing up, you were a spitting image of him and your mother often joked that she did all the work and had nothing to show for it. Your parents didn’t have any more kids deciding that you were all they needed. When you got your letter to Hogwarts they were so proud. Although your father was a muggle he loved you all the same.

Another bout of sobs wracked through your body and the pain became too much to bear. You had no friends at school and no one to confide in. You bottled up your pain and took it out on yourself as a way to cope. You knew it was foolish , but you couldn’t stop. You blamed yourself for your father’s death and had decided this was your punishment even though you hadn’t even been there. You took your wand to your wrist, reciting the same spell that had become your only comfort.

Draco POV

Draco didn’t see her the rest of the day. He couldn’t help but be worried. He checked the hospital wing but Madame Pomfrey informed him that she never showed up. He kept an eye out between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of her curls but to his disappointment they never appeared. When Draco still didn’t see Y/N at dinner he decided he had to find her. 

Draco spent the next hour combing the castle starting at the Astronomy tower and making his way though each corridor. Draco was just about to give up when he turned down a corridor that he didn’t recognize. Draco could tell it hadn’t been used in years as the classrooms had more than an inch of dust in them. Still, he opened each one desperate to find her now. Draco was nearing the last classroom when he heard a small noise. He paused, holding his breath to hear it again. He heard a sniffle and moved towards it. He stopped in front of a statue, peering around it he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally saw her curls. 

He knelt down cautiously so as not to scare her, reaching a hand forward he lightly touched her shoulder. Y/N whipped around, her eyes bloodshot and red and her cheeks still had tear streaks down them. She wiped at them furiously, her face hardening at the sight of the platinum haired boy in front of her. 

“What do you want” she sneered, “come to make fun of me some more?”

Draco’s eyes widened at her sudden hostility.

“No actually, I wanted to check on you to see if you were alright,” he whispered.

“Please” she scoffed, “Don’t act like you care Malfoy, you’re no better than the rest of your little friends.”

Draco hung his head, he knew she was right. He had done nothing over the years to make her think otherwise. He looked at her again, his grey eyes glancing over her hands. They were still red and blistered and he suddenly remembered she didn’t go to the hospital wing after Potions.

He grabbed her wrists hearing her wince as his grip tightened when she struggled to get away.

“Why the hell did you not go to the hospital wing are you daft?!” He said loudly. 

His grip tightened even more and she struggled furiously to get away. He looked at her hands examining them. His eyes fell upon her sleeve noticing the cuff was red with blood. He looked at her, her eyes begging him not to do what he was going to do next. Draco slowly lifted her sleeve up, as his eyes took in the fresh cuts mixed with the old ones his heart sank. He felt guilty for each one of those lines knowing they were a result of the torment he and his friends had put her through.

He grabbed his wand from his pocket, still holding her wrist he quietly uttered healing spells watching the cuts become scars and the blisters disappear as her hands returned to their normal color.

“Thank you” Y/N muttered.

Draco sank beside her putting his arm around her shoulder. This time she didn’t flinch and leaned into him.

Y/N POV

You felt as though you were dreaming and were tempted to pinch yourself. It didn’t seem possible that Draco Malfoy, one of your bullies, had taken the time to find you and heal your injuries let alone to now holding you. You leaned into him even more breathing in the scent of his green apple shampoo and pine cologne. 

“I’m sorry” you heard him whisper. You looked up at him in shock, his eyes made contact with yours and you could see the sincerity in them. “I don’t know why I said the things I’ve said or treated you the way I’ve treated you. My father has always instilled in me the importance of blood purity. I’ve never known any different, but for some reason when I look at you, none of that matters” he explained.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did Draco Malfoy actually...like you?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, thumbing over the scars on your wrist.

You sighed, you didn’t want to sound like a freak. Draco tilted your head up, urging you to explain.

“When my father took his life, my mother never let me read the letter he wrote. She made me pack all of my things and I’ve been living with my muggle grandmother ever since. I haven’t seen my mother in almost two years.” You said, feeling your eyes tear up again. You felt Draco’s hand on your cheek as he gently brushed a tear that had fallen away. “The cuts..the pain, it’s my punishment. I couldn’t fathom why my father had wanted to leave me, so in the end I decided I must have did something, that him taking his life was my fault.” 

At this you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, you began to sob even harder than you had earlier. You felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable in front of Draco and you hated it. For years you had put on a brave face taking every insult that came your way and still holding your head high.

Draco shifted and pulled you between his legs wrapping his arms around you completely. You buried your head into his chest as you continued to cry. He stroked your and planted soft kisses on your forehead. You both stayed like this for what felt like hours but was really only minutes.

When you were done crying you looked back up at Draco, he was already looking at you, his own grey eyes reflecting sadness as he stared at the broken girl in his arms. 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore, Y/N”, he said. “I know I can’t take back how much I’ve hurt you, but from this day forward I promise to protect you.”

You smiled and leaned forward connecting your lips to his. You felt him tense up and then relax as he kissed you back harder tangling his fingers into your curls. 

You pulled away breathing heavy and so was he. Draco smiled at you planting another soft kiss onto your lips.

“Always?” you whispered.

“Always.” he said.

[unloved-cadillac]

Hey can i request dabi

Where he isnt a villain anymore bcs of reader...he love them but bcs of depression they killed themselve...dabi is hurt cs he thought reader r happy...they always smile then bcs of tht he become villain back :3

Btw love ur acc so much

C/n: look. MORE ANGST! Thank you for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

———————————————————————

The Dark Times Never Leave. (Dabi x Reader)

TW: suicide, self-harm, drug use, Death.

The life of an ex-villain was actually better than what Dabi expected. Many knew who he was but they realized that he was a good person underneath those scars and just had some catching up on life to do. He got a few stares and weird looks, but he never really cared. He got a job with people who were proud of him for turning his life around and a beautiful significant other who loved him for him.

When Dabi first met you, you were in an alleyway buying heroin from a drug dealer. In the night lights, he could see that you were ethereal. But, you were so broken. So lost.

He was a villain, obviously, but he wasn’t going to sit back and watch a beautiful person like you throw their life away like that. He tracked down the drug dealer and told him to leave you alone and he paid the guy a handsome amount of money just to go away. You were upset, of course, but when you realized that this man, this villain, could’ve saved your life you stopped using. Or at least tried to stop.

Dabi never left you alone. He knew what it was like to be addicted and depressed. He had lost too many people because of it. And he wasn’t going to let that happen to you.

He took you back to his old, shitty apartment to stay the night. But that night became a few days turned to a few months. You didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to get you new clothes, food and everything. You told him about you severe mental illness and how this life wasn’t worth living anymore. You had lost everything at the mere age of 24 and maybe leaving this earth was the best way to run away from it all.

Dabi hugged you that day. He hugged you and promised you that he would help you no matter what. Fast forward two years later, he kept that promise. He quit the League, got a job and moved the both of you to a brand new apartment complex. He was happy..and he thought you were too.

He got you into therapy. And he was seeing results in your happiness. You were going to start a new job soon and Dabi couldn’t have been prouder. You could get out of bed and you were laughing and smiling often and Dabi just fell more in love with you.

He thought you were fine. He thought you were getting better.

When he came home after work, he had so much to tell you. New people tried calling and the telephone line got cut and it was havoc. It was one of the best days he had since he started there. “Y/n. You won’t believe what happened at work today!” He yells out as he places the bags on the counter while laughing to himself, thinking of today’s events. “It was crazy! Even a hero panicked and it was pathetic!” He chuckles as he unloads the groceries.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. You didn’t come and greet him like you normally did. He looked around and raised his eyebrows. The house was spotless. No blanket on the couch, no chip packets on the coffee table. He looked at the sink, no dishes. The house smelled like lavender. Did they clean today? “Y/n. Babe?!” Dabi calls out to you and no answer. Ok. Maybe they’re asleep. He walks out the kitchen to your shared bedroom, ignoring the little panic in his chest. The door was closed but not locked. So he opened it slowly and looked inside to see the bed perfectly made with new pillows and everything. You weren’t there. He walked in and looked around and then turned to see the bathroom door shut.

Dabi took a breath and knocked on it. “Babe? You in there?” He asks and rattles the doorknob. Locked. “Babe! Answer me! If you’re taking a shit just say!” He tries to joke but his panic mode was activated. He rattled the doorknob, trying to open it. One hand on the doorframe, he tries to pull it open. “Dammit, Y/n! Open the fucking door!” He screams and walks back. “Stand back. I’m opening it!” He calls out and slams his shoulder onto the door. It didn’t budge. Another time, nothing. “Fuck. I don’t want to do this but it looks like I don’t have a choice.” He places a hand on the door and his blue flames form burning the door. As it spreads through the door, puts it out and yanks the door open.

The scene beyond the door made him break.

He looks inside to see you on the tub, with a needle in your arm and vomit in your mouth. “No. No no no no no!” He runs to you and lifts you up. He takes the needle out of your arm and turns your head. The vomit was removed and he pulled you into his lap.

“Y/n! Come on! Wake up!” He tells you and he feels your pulse. He places a hand on your chest and...no beat.

“No! Fuck, Y/n! Why?! Don’t FUCKING DO THIS TO ME!” He yells out to you and cradles you. You were so cold. It made him sick. Your warm, beautiful skin turned lifeless and all its beauty faded away. You were gone and he was alone again.

He called the ambulance and when the rushed over, they took you away. He watched as they put you in a body bag and the police came to ask him questions. He explained everything. How the door wouldn’t open so he used his quirk and he found you like that. They thanked him and left.

The next day, he buried you next to his old grave. He made sure that it was beautiful just like you.

Here lies Y/n L/n. A beautiful soul and partner.

Dabi couldn’t cry. But he felt so angry. His flames started to spark and before he left, he gave the stone a quick kiss. His life would never be the same anymore. The light in his dark world turned off and he was broken.

~~~~

Time passed by and Dabi left. He left his home, he left his work and disappeared into the shadows once again. He took the ring he had and put into his pocket, carrying it with him wherever he went.

“Dabi? Well, well. How long has it been? Two, three years?” Shigaraki asks and Dabi looks at him. “Yo, Dabi! How’s it going man?!” Twice yells out and Dabi just stares at Tomura. “I want back in.” He says and Shigaraki laughs. “What about your life? How can we trust you again?” He asks and Dabi throws a whole bunch of documents in front of him. “These are the list of students in UA and the next field trips they’re going on.” Dabi tells him and Shigaraki looks through them. “Not bad. Not bad at all. Welcome back, Dabi.”

“We should meet in another life,we should meet in air. Me and You.”

-Sylvia Plath.

———————————————————————

“My dark circles are so prominent now. I look like a zombie.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

This Isn’t Hypothetical for Chris

SPECIAL CONTENT WARNING: This piece contains a series of arguments regarding the Box Boy’s whole concept, and a survivor’s reactions to it, that may hit too close to home both for survivors of assault/abuse and also considering American history of institutional violence. Please do not read if you think you are not in the right headspace for this, and feel free to message me for a rundown/synopsis of this chapter if needed.

CW: References to pet whump, institutionalized slavery, Box Boy universe, vague referenced noncon/conditioning, self-loathing, victim-blaming, survivor’s guilt, ableism (both internal and external). Also includes some self-harm/negative stimming including head-banging during a meltdown.

Nicholas/Henry (referenced multiple times) belongs to @orchidscript

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?” The one who raises his hand is… Eshiram, maybe? He lives over in Dalton, Chris knows him, more or less. Sort of. The way you know people who live near you, even on a campus as big as this tone. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” The grad student who teaches the discussion meetings for their Social and Political History class waves one hand in a quick, not quite dismissive gesture.

Behind him, there’s a projected photo of a young man sitting, testifying in court, wearing a suit and tie. Above his head, the words, The Human Pet Industry and Human Rights, 1952-20XX, are angled just so, framing the young man’s head like a halo.

Chris refuses to look at the image of the young man, caught mid-speech. They already had to watch the video recording of it, discuss the way the lawyers phrased their questions to make the young man look innocent or calculating, depending on what they wanted the jury to think, when Chris could have told everyone in here it wasn’t fucking possible for a pet to calculate like that.

Or maybe it was, and Chris just wasn’t any good at it, when it was him.

“So, we’ve spent all week sitting in lecture, and here, talking about how the pet industry is absolutely fucked up-”

“Excuse me?” A girl sitting three seats to Chris’s right and a little ahead of him turns around in her chair to give Eshiram a flat glare. “That is not-”

“Wait your turn, Callie,” The grad student says, looking weary. “Next time I have to tell you to let someone finish a sentence… Man, just, don’t make me do that. Go on, Eshiram.”

Okay, good, his name is Eshiram. Chris is getting better at names, but it’s still hard, and on days like today it’s harder than ever. It’s not that he isn’t paying attention, it’s just that the scar on the inside of his left wrist, that pale reminder of the life he lived before this one, itches and burns more and more as he stays silent, listening to them talk about a life he’s lived like it’s an abstract concept and not a nightmare Chris will never be able to completely wash off his skin.

“Thanks. So, we talk about the pet industry, but I just-... why doesn’t anyone fix it?”

“Fix it?”

“Go in and pass laws… the public push is there to outlaw it completely. So why doesn’t it happen?”

“Because money talks, man,” Another student pipes up, and Chris stares down at his notes, which have gone from neat, if angular, handwriting to a jumbled mix of letters that mean nothing to a series of increasingly anxiety-riddled pointless doodles of geometrics and horses that look like dogs and dogs that look like blobs and blue ink bleeding spots around them all.

On the inside of his wrist, he starts, slowly, to draw little triangles over the scars, filling them in with the deep blue ink. Their voices are all starting to have weight, pounding against his ears, and he should ask to leave, but he can’t remember how to form the words.

“It doesn’t matter how fucking miserable the pets are, if rich people want something, they just bribe the fuck out of everybody until they get it.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be like that-”

“Pets aren’t miserable,” Callie pipes up, and this time the grad student doesn’t stop her, just looks… interested. This is just a class discussion to him. To Chris it’s a building pile of rocks slowly picked up and thrown in his direction. He has to sit still, to be good, to not give away why it hurts to hear it. 

He has to be good.

He drops his head more, blue hair falling across his face to hide it, and digs the nib of the pen into his skin until it hurts.

“Who wouldn’t be?” The student who spoke up rolls his eyes. “Of course they’re miserable. What, you think somebody cleans your house for no money because they’re fucking passionate about Swiffer wipes? All the bullshit in the world can’t hide what this whole system really is.”

“First off, it’s not like that, and second, please do tell me... what is it, really?” Callie asks, poison in her voice.

“Okay, guys,” The grad student says, hands out. “Let’s calm things down a little.”

“You know damn fucking well what it is,” Another girl speaks, glaring a Callie, and Chris looks up from under his eyelashes, almost smiles. Someone speaking up. He pulls the pen away from his wrist, just a little. “Starts with S, rhymes with-”

“Guys. Calm it down.” Callie and the other three all glare at each other, but the whispering among the class slowly settles down. The grad student stands up picking up some papers he has in his hands, setting stapled packets down on every desk. “I’m glad you’re all really passionate about this, and I want you to carry that passion out of this classroom, but we need to focus on the testimonies we’ve been watching this week. Now, each of you has here a written transcript of four examples of testimony from the individuals we’ve heard this week. I want you to read over what Trenton Denver, Phillipa Venn, Yuki Tanaka, and the former Nicholas-”

“You know what’s bullshit, is that you’re all sitting here judging pet owners when I bet none of you has ever even met one,” Callie snaps, and Chris stares down at the rough, photocopied photo on the front of the packet, sees Nicky’s face there. A photo of him before, standing next to his owners during some kind of press conference, and a photo of him after, years later being Henry now, giving a speech standing alone. 

Something in Chris twists with an awful, sick guilt. If he’d only stayed with S-... with Oliver, he could have been a friend to Nicky, whenever he could... and instead, the other boy had had to do everything, to go through it all, alone. It’s not a fair or rational thought, but it’s there, insidious and slithering. His heart wants tries to tighten, to stop beating entirely. 

Does he even deserve to breathe, living a life like this one, where everyone rescues him and he never once saved himself?

“Do you need to fucking meet one to know it’s miserable to be kept like a fucking Golden Retriever? People. Aren’t. Pets.” Chris wants to look up, to see who spoke this time, but he just keeps staring at Nicky’s face, his slight smile blurred and pixelated by the copier. Fake, and unhappy, because they were both trapped in lives they didn’t want to live. 

“Golden Retrievers are pretty happy dogs,” Someone says, and Chris feels himself choke on their words. 

We’re not dogs. We’re people. We’re not dogs. We’re people. We’re not-

“Oh my God, way to miss the point by approximately fifteen thousand miles and also be so insulting to dogs in the process, dumbass. We’re talking about human beings!”

Chris takes in a breath, keeps his eyes down. Digs the pen nib into his skin, deeper and deeper, as hard as he can, trying to drown out the cacophony of noise that is starting to intrude. He can hear their breathing, all of them, huffing in and out. He can hear their words pressing on him, the buzz of the lights overhead is louder for him than anyone else in here, he thinks. He can hear people talking in the hall as another class has let out, he can hear people shouting dimly outside, running to the Student Center, playing frisbee or something on the green space, and he wants to be outside he wants to be outside he wants to move.

Can’t move. Have to be still.

Can’t let them know what he is. Can’t tell. It’ll put everyone at risk. He has to sit still and pretend he doesn’t have opinions on this so nobody looks too close. He has to sit still and stop tapping his fucking foot and stop stop stop moving, stop fucking moving, be still be still be still-

“All I’m saying, is that I have actually met pets before,” Callie announces. Chris wonders why the grad student hasn’t stopped her and sneaks a look up, only to see him sitting and looking bored. It doesn’t matter to him. It’s just something he talks about. He hasn’t had to live it, to see us crying, to know how it feels when they shock you or bring the cane down or make you be still for days and days and days. He’s never seen one of us wake up screaming even when it’s safe.

This isn’t hypothetical for Chris.

“Yeah, Cal, we get it, you’re rich,” Someone says, rolling her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “We hear about it all the time. Let it go.”

“Eat the rich,” Someone else mumbles behind him. “French had the right fuckin’ idea with the fucking guillotines.”

Chris swallows. He wants to hum, to make some kind of noise to drown them all out, but he can’t. When he, when he needs things, when he needs to tap or rock or hum, it draws attention. Too much attention is dangerous. Have to keep it in until class is over. Just a few more minutes, a few more, just, just a little longer…

“Me being rich isn’t what we’re talking about. I’m just saying none of you knows a thing about the industry, and I do! I grew up with pets! And they were the happiest people I’ve ever met!”

“You don’t, don’t know that.” He doesn’t realize the voice is his own until the eyes feel as heavy as their voices did a moment before, and he notices everyone is looking at him. 

He swallows again, his heart starting to pound with nervousness, pulling his sleeve carefully down to hide the drawing he made on his wrist. “You don’t know that,” He repeats, louder this time, willing his voice not to shake. “All you, you know is what, um, what… what what what, what, what they-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Somebody says, and Chris almost stops there.

He manages to finish, “-... what they thought it was safe to tell you, what, what they were trained to tell you.”

“You think I wouldn’t know if my own pets weren’t happy?” Callie looks… stunned, is the only word for it. “You really think that?”

“No, I don’t, don’t think you… would.” Chris hates everyone looking at him. He likes to be hidden, to stay behind the scenes, to blend in with shadows. But he feels like a police siren going off, unmistakable and too loud, with the classroom all looking at him all at once. “They-... they’re… trained. To make sure you, you, you-you-you wouldn’t ever f-find out if they weren’t... if they were scared, or, or miserable, or if your f-f-family was hurting them-”

“How fucking dare you?” Callie’s eyes widened, and Chris watched them fill with glittering tears. “Suggest that my family would abuse our pets? What is wrong with you?”

He almost - almost - apologizes.

Then she adds, “I’ve known them every single day of my life! I think I’d know if they weren’t happy, Chris.” Callie rolls her eyes, arms crossed in front of her.

“How?” His voice is louder, and he doesn’t mean it to be, but his mind is sparking with anger and fear. The warning bells inside his mind are being drowned out by the other thoughts, the way he has listened to too many people give arguments like this, and this week he’s listened to four different speeches by pets detailing abuse, and suffering, and starvation, and drugging, and he’s lived all of it and here she is just dismissing Chris’s life like it’s a fairytale the pet lib people made up to sell magazines and documentaries and not Chris’s actual fucking life. And Antoni’s. And Leila’s. And Krista’s. And Kauri’s and-

And Nicky’s.

Or… Henry, now.

“How what?” Callie sneers the words and Chris shoves himself to his feet. She’s up as well, and she’s taller than him, not that it matters. He’s not intimidated by her height, and he doesn’t even really see her, he sees-... he sees Oliver murmuring, the others will all hate you if they know what you are, darlin’, and mostly that hasn’t been true for him, but with Callie… it would be.

Or she’d call someone, turn him in.

She’s the kind who would make the call herself, and she’d say it was for his own good, that he was breaking the law, that he-

“How would you, you, you-you… you know? It’d never be safe to, to, to to to to-... to-to… to, fuck, to-” He groans, smacking himself in the head with his hand, and the sudden burst of sensation soothes the broken words inside his head, he can find them again. “It’d never be safe to tell you!”

“Oh shit,” Someone whispers. The same person who made the guillotine comment maybe. He doesn’t care. He’s too angry, now, and not even at her, he’s angry at everyone who looked the other way at Oliver’s parties, or when Owen put Kauri in that video on the internet, or when they watched Jake get arrested at protests or made fun of him when he got set free later and it took two fucking weeks for him to go back to class just because he put his body between Chris and a living hell.

He’s too angry, now, to stop. 

“You’re, you’re s-s-soulless,” He hisses, and there’s an intake of breath. “Every single one, of, of, of you is soulless.”

“Chris, let’s calm down,” The grad student says carefully, moving forward. “Callie just has a different point of view-”

“Is it a, a, a different point of-... of view when it’s someone’s fucking life?” He doesn’t mean to be yelling. He doesn’t know how he started yelling. He’s terrified of his own voice and he can’t stop. The lights hurt, they sit on his skin and they hurt and the world is full of noise and he just wants it to be dark and quiet and better than this.

“Everyone who hurts-” Us “-them is soulless, is, is devoid, you don’t have one, and everyone who s-s-sits, who, who sits around, who-... who does nothing while they hurt us-”

“I’ve never hurt a pet a single day in my life!” Callie shouts back at him, and someone takes her arm, a friend of hers. 

No one takes Chris’s arm. No one speaks. They just watch him from every corner of the room, and later someone’s going to write a fucking post about this somewhere, and he’ll be a laughingstock, and maybe someone will see the look in his eyes and guess - and know - and call the cops - and he’ll get Jake in trouble again-

“I’d bet every d-... dollar in my, my, my bank account that you have!”

“Christopher Stanton, you need to stop, right now, or I’m going to ask you to leave.” The grad student steps between them, and Chris’s eyes flicker to the older man’s. Suddenly he’s unsure, and he wants to sit down.

Sit still. Silence is better than stammering. Stillness is better than what I do. Sit down, be good, be good be good be good be a good boy be good a pet be good be good after all-

“I mean… they signed up for it, right?” A new voice, the girl holding Callie’s arm. “Pets? They get told what it’s all about before they sign up. Isn’t this kind of… babying them? I mean, they made the choice to be one.”

“Nothing happens to them that isn’t on their contract,” Callie says, smug with triumph, and the grad student doesn’t stop her. “Besides, they really loved me! It was like having a friend right from when I was born. They signed up for this!”

It hurts so much more when he hears it said outside his own skull.

“They didn’t like you.” Chris is spitting venom, suddenly, terrified of himself, of his own anger. He’s so good at not being angry, at not having feelings like this, at having good days and knowing how lucky he is to escape, but right now… “They, they, they didn’t like you, they were told to, to, to be nice to you! You, you just-...”

“I mean, they wipe their memories and shit,” Someone says. “That’s sci-fi horror movie shit, that is definitely fucked up. You can’t think you can wipe somebody’s memory and make them, like, memorize all those fucked up things pets say and then believe they just… like you, Callie.”

“They didn’t want those memories! They sign up on purpose, to give those memories up, because they don’t want them anymore! I mean, what do they lose, really?”

Chris hitches in a breath.

Everything.

I lost everything.

And I’ll never get all of it back.

“That’s why… why-why-why, why you’re not safe, why it wouldn’t be s-safe to, to, to to tell you if they weren’t h-happy,” Chris says, throwing the packet of papers with Henry’s face on the front into his backpack, alongside folders full of paperwork, his textbook, laptop, pens and pencils. “Because you’ll b-believe any, any, any any… any bullshit you’re told.”

Someone laughs, nervously.

“Or maybe one of us has actual experience with pets, and one of us wears the same five fucking t-shirts on rotation because he doesn’t own any others.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Callie.”

Chris stares at her, and it’s not fear that washes cold down his spine, but a blistering, awful, sick rage. “You, you, you-you-you don’t know shit about, about, about about… about m-me-”

Talking is harder, it’s like trying to push words through a wall with an opening the size of his thumb. The wall is built of all the noise and weight and rage and pain and sound all around him. He wants to rock, he wants to tap, he wants to get all the energy coiled inside of him out and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Be good be still be a statue boy that’s my good boy trainee keep still for me sweet boy you wanted this you were made for this you signed up for this you knew what would happen to you you wanted this you wanted this you wanted this you wanted it you want it you’ll always want it-

“I know you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Callie snaps. “And that’s all I need to know, isn’t it? Have you ever even met a pet, Chris?”

He wants to start laughing, at the question, and he’s afraid if he starts he won’t stop until it’s tears instead, and he won’t cry in front of her. 

He won’t.

“F-for, for, for, for… for y-your, infor-... fuck, for your, your, your-your-... your-”

No, no no no. He is stalling out, stammering, trains derailed and disappearing into the horrible white light that still lived inside his head, he is stuttering silence is better than stammering you have to stop you have to stop you have to stop-

Callie’s lip curls in a cruel sneer and Chris knows exactly what she’s going to do - how she will hurt him - before she opens her mouth.

“I think you should stop trying to talk until you can stop being such a fucking sp-”

“That’s enough.” 

Chris had forgotten the grad student was even still here. He jumps, stumbling into his chair as the man pushes forward and blocks Callie from Chris’s view. Chris’s legs catch in the metal legs of the chair and he falls backwards, slamming on his ass into the carpeted floor, barely catching himself. 

The carpet burns under his hands.

Only one person laughs.

It’s Callie.

Chris’s face burns bright red, shame and humiliation sweeping over his skin, and he lost nearly all the words, all at once, drowned in the screaming noise inside his head. All he can remember is how to spit, “I fucking hate everyone like, like, like you! You fucking bitch!”

“Leave the room, Chris.” The grad student’s voice is sharp. “That’s over the line. You’re done in this class for now. I’ll email you later and we’ll schedule a meeting to talk about whether or not you should come back.”

Chris’s lungs stop working. He can barely mouth what?

“Hey, wait a second.” Eshiram pushes to his feet, jabbing a finger in the air as he points. “Callie’s the one who worked this up into a fight, Chris didn’t-”

“Cut it, Eshiram, I’m not interested. Chris. Get out of the room, take a deep breath, and cool down. We’ll talk this out later, okay? I won’t mark you absent for class, or mark down participation, or anything. Just… take a walk.”

Chris can’t remember how to speak. All he can do is nod, good boy, take your discipline, discipline is a humane and necessary part of-

He has to get out of here before he calls someone Sir.

“If he goes, I’m walking out, too,” Eshiram says, strong. He was taller and bigger than the grad student, who looked at him, weary, as Eshiram steps over and offers Chris his hand. Chris takes it, skin crawling, and pulls himself back to his feet. “It’s not his fault and I’m not going to sit here like it is.”

“Yeah, me too,” Guillotine-Kid says, pushing to his feet and grabbing his backpack. “I’m out, too. I’m not going to fall for that propaganda bullshit.”

“Me, three,” Says the girl who had very nearly called the human pet industry exactly what it is. “This is bullshit, Darian’s right. She works him up and gets him all mad, and then you kick him out when he fights back? This is exactly the fucking problem we’ve been talking about!”

“Don’t be fucking dramatic, Tali,” Callie says, rolling her eyes. 

“Don’t be such a fucking nightmare asshole, Caledonia,” Tali shoots back.

“Okay. Okay, okay. Just… class dismissed for today. Look over your packets and we’ll meet next time and talk it out. I can see this isn’t going to get back on track. Chris, we’ll talk about you coming back to class when we meet, but until then… just… just work on the assignments.” The grad student sighs.

Chris yanks his hand away from Eshiram, and Callie’s triumphant little snort hits him in the back like a blow as he stomps out of the classroom and into the hall, the rest of the class streaming out behind him.

Eshiram calls out his name, but Chris doesn’t stop.

He should, he should stop, Jake and Nat always say it’s important to reward people for their work towards changing hearts and minds, and to appreciate the little things like people helping you stand up when you can’t stand for yourself, but he… he can’t stop.

If he stops, they’ll know what he is.

If he stops, they’ll tell someone.

If he stops, he’ll cry in front of them, and Chris has cried too often in his life. He just runs down the hallway, as fast as he can, taking turns and twists and stairways until he’s on a different floor, a different side of the building, and he’s totally, utterly lost in it.

He curls up in a tiny bathroom the size of a closet, lights off, door locked, presses himself into the corner in a room that smells like air freshener and bleach, and starts to rock, violently, forcing his head to smack into the wall with each forward motion, and again when he rocks back.

Again, again, again.

It quiets the screaming inside his head, but it can’t make the last hour not have happened.

Silence is better than stammering, stillness is better than what I do, I signed up for this, I signed up for this, I wanted this I wanted it I was made for it I deserved it we’re happy we’re supposed to be happy I’m broken because I wasn’t happy like this I signed up for it I have to be good to be good I am a good boy be still be silent be still be be be-

His phone starts buzzing an hour or so later, when he misses his lunch date with Laken. Over and over and over again.

He doesn’t pick up.

He wouldn’t be able to speak if he did.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth

[misfit-among-the-angels]

Your burdens I'll bear

Word count: 934 Genre: Just a regular short fanfic. Pairing: Tobias Sammet x Reader Warnings: Mentioning of self harm and relapse. Summary: Reader had some bad mental time and relapse happened while Tobi was on tour, but it's the last day and Tobi is back and he comforts reader.

You also can find this on Archive of our own.

A/N: I've never written a fanfic of this kind and i hope it's good. I mainly wrote it for myself and to comfort myself, but decided to share it because we all need Tobi in roles like this.

I slipped. After being free and happy and clean for more than five years or maybe even more, I suddenly find myself putting a band aid on my arm. I throw away napkins, wipe the last tears from my eyes, and then sit on the bed and grab my favorite pillow, which is his and still has some of his smell on it. And while I’m hugging it, I’m trying to figure out what the fuck happened. My life and relationship with Tobi were going great. He was helping me with my healing a lot. Not only with his never-ending love, but also with encouraging me to seek professional help and supporting me the way he could. Yes, sure, I had some obstacles like surviving when he was away on tour, and of course the first time was the hardest, but I did every one well, and for some years now I was mental illness free and so happy. Up until now. It all feels so weird. I’m all calm and well, but my mind was a mess just ten minutes ago. Maybe it was a nightmare I had… Yes, I know I had some sort of really bad nightmare, but I can’t recall it anymore. Tobi should be back tomorrow, well today, since it’s probably way after midnight. Even though my mind is telling me not to tell him about this, I hate lying so I’ll tell him.I must have fallen asleep at some point because now I’m wakened by the sound of Tobi finally coming home! I know he won’t mind how my bed looks, so I spring out of bed and run downstairs. He heard me coming down, and while I’m trying to figure out where he is, he suddenly hugs me from behind. “Missed you so much, love!”“Ah!” I sigh then smile and turn around. “I missed you more”. I don’t waste any time and kiss him. We keep kissing until we’re both out of breath, and even then our lips almost touch. I giggle. My hands roam around, touching him everywhere I can reach. We share another, this time shorter, kiss.“I miss you, your smell, your touch. Everything.” I smile as I finally take a good look at him. For a minute he doesn’t say anything, but then he looks at the luggage, then at me, and finally he smirks.“Some stuff can wait because I need and want to attend to more important matters.” Tobi picks me up. “And these matters include you and me”. We both giggle as he carries me to the bedroom.It’s close to afternoon when we’ve finally satisfied our needs with each other. Now we’re both cuddled up, resting and talking about this and that.We’re silent for some minutes, but then he looks at me somewhat seriously and asks something that makes my heart jump a bit. “Darling, what happened to your arm? I hope it’s nothing serious”. After his question I feel a shiver going down my spine. I sigh a couple times.“I relapsed,” I say quietly and then hide my face in his chest. I feel tears coming up, and even though the need to hide it is there, I don’t hide it and let them go. He hugs me really close and doesn’t say anything for a while, letting me cry it out. When I calm down a bit, I feel I need to elaborate more, but I’m still too weak to look at him so I keep my face in his chest. “I don’t know what happened. It could’ve been a nightmare that triggered me so much. But please don’t feel bad. It’s definitely not because you were away… Ah, and please don’t be mad or disappointed… I know I was all okay these years….”He listens to me and caresses my hair and back while I talk. When I stop, he kisses my head and softly speaks, “Hey, it’s all okay. Stuff like this happens sometimes. Of course, I’m sad I wasn’t there to comfort you, but I’m here right now and you are safe with me.” I sigh some more while he talks, but listening to his voice and to all he says makes me feel a bit at ease. “Remember what I said that one night. I will ALWAYS help you and support you, no matter what. I was painfully aware back then what I was committing, and nothing has changed after these few years. Only that my love for you grew bigger, and I’ve seen you heal and grow, and that made me very happy. I will help you bear your burdens the way I can because I love you”. I can’t help but smile and get teary again and think that I

have no idea what I did to deserve this man.“Love, please look at me,” Tobi speaks softly. It takes me some effort to do that, but I finally look up at him. He is smiling, and I can’t help but smile too. Then he takes my arm and kisses the band aid. “I love you with scars and other imperfections. And we will solve this problem together”.I can’t help but smile so much at it all and at the feeling of love in my heart. “I love you so so much, and I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you make me feel so happy and so loved”. I don’t hear him say anything to that, but I kiss him once again. The kiss communicates all the things that cannot be said.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

I think i have another request. Well i do i mean lol. It may be a little dark but the idea just came to me... y/n spending Christmas break with the Weasleys (because she is best friends with Ron or the twins?) at burrow because her family are not that pleasant to be around and treat her poorly.. y/n is self harming and no one knows til one day fred (her crush )finds out somehow some way and consoles her and they end up confessing their true feelings for each other?

I just want to say: if anyone needs to talk to someone I'm here. But if you want some sort of therapy or anything there is a app where you can talk it out called 7cupsoftea.

Suicide hotline:800-273-8255

text hotline: 741741

Love you all. You are loved, please know that.

Trigger warning: self harm, abuse

You spent a lot of time in the background. No one seemed to take notice of you, no one seemed to really notice if you were sick or not. Well. Except for Ginny. Ginny saw you. She actually noticed you and asked Fred and George, who were in your year to keep an eye out. She noticed you, talking to you from time to time and noticing you needed more friends. So who better than to go to than the boys who literally knows everyone including the portraits on the walls.

You seemed jumpy, always nearly dropping things when they appeared. But you appreciated the boys, checking on you and talking to you. George had a surprising lack of classes with you though compared to Fred. After a few... Pranks/possible murder plots? The teachers put Fred and George in only two classes together. So Fred had his with you, always sitting next to you and making sure you were good. He didn't really catch on to anything wrong. He just noticed the long sleeves and figured "so she's cold all the time". Ginny and Luna knew this wasn't the case though. They knew you, truly so. You hid the marks from your brothers and the self inflicted scars. You bared so much and they hated to see you tear yourself apart.

Ginny would always change the subject when your family came up in the great hall, Fred and George always being confused to why that happened. Fred was closer with you than George and knew something was up but didn't understand the extent of it. George could see his brother begin to slowly fall for you, him whispering funny little jokes to you making you smile or laugh. However the thing that everyone seemed to notice was the lack of light in your eyes when you showed positive emotion. You would smile, sure. But your eyes seemed dull and tired.

Fred would sometimes skip class with you, sitting under a tree and talk to you about life in general with his head in your lap. Today was one of those days, it being particularly colder but Fred was warm so you didn't mind. "Hey Y/n... What do you think about spending Christmas with us this year?" He asked. You blinked a couple of times. "Are you sure you have the room? I mean... Your family is massive Freddie." You asked. "We always have room. Plus don't you wanna spend the holidays with your fwiends?" He asked, playfully poking your cheek. You chuckled. "Okay... I'll let my parents know."

You felt a slight relief being able to leave hogwarts and it not being associated with going to your parents house. Molly greeted you with a hug and you seemed shocked to receive affection like that right off the bat. Fred noticed though, when Molly's hands slid from your shoulders to your hands you seemed to flinch ever so slightly at the touch. No one else seemed to notice so Fred kept it to himself. Ginny kept close to you, showing you things all throughout the house. Fred however soon whisked you off with George to go off and see the cooler things. The fields, the places they had to just sit and talk or the test area for a few of their pranking devices.

At night it seemed peaceful. But you had these terrible nightmares where you woke up sobbing and Ginny was always there, comforting you when you did. However tonight was just a silent wake up. Still, you didn't want to sleep in case you woke up again but louder. Ginny was still awake and she looked over. "You okay?" She asked. "Do you mind if I step out for a bit? Just need some fresh air." You asked. "Go ahead." She nodded. So you walked out, letting the cold air hit your face as you sat on the back steps of the house. You pulled back your sleeves and saw the scars, closing your eyes.

Six months clean... Yet the reminders were still there. You pulled them back down and sighed before you noticed someone sit down next to you. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" Fred asked, handing you a mug of hot cocoa. "....Do you ever just want to scream for hours to get out your emotions and be free of the weight on your chest?" You asked before taking a long sip of the cocoa. "...Not really. But we can literally just scream in a field out here if you really want?" Fred suggested.

That's exactly what you did, making sure that no one could hear you before you kicked a fence post and Fred rose a brow. "Any particular reason why you're upset?" He asked. You kept kicking it, harder and harder as you went. "Does trauma count as a reliable fucking answer?" You grunted before really kicking it hard. You were panting by the time you were done. "Y/n... Princess, what's up?" He asked. You shook your head. "I want to be happy, I should be happy. I am surrounded by people who care but I can't stop thinking about my God damn--" you kicked the post again. "Family!" You yelled. The pained expression on your face made Fred concerned. "Do you want to go home--" "That place will never be home." You said, catching your breath again. "Y/n... What's going on, what do you need?" He asked. You shook your head, your hair hiding your face so Fred couldn't see the tears, the angry tears falling. You kicked the post again, Fred finally pulling you back by your wrist making you yelp. He frowned and you looked into his eyes with this upset look. "Help me." You whimpered. He said nothing, letting go of your wrist and pulling you into a tight hug.

You told him everything. The abuse, the nightmares the inability to sleep, the crying, all of it. But you also told him you stopped hurting yourself because of Ginny and him. You stopped because you didn't want your friends to lose you in their lives because you grew attached and you didn't want to be a cause of sadness. Fred brought you back to the living room, both of you sitting on the couch and talking all night.

When Molly found you, you were asleep on Fred who was holding you close. She didn't wake you until much later but Fred was determined to have you stay at the burrow rather than go home. Christmas rolled around and Fred got you this necklace. It had a Demiguise engraved on it after he remembered you saying it was your favorite magical creature. You loved it and for the first time your friends saw you genuinely smile. Like your eyes lit up and everything. You got Fred a new broom, him smiling like crazy telling you that one day he was teaching you how to fly with him.

Ginny noticed the nightmares take a slow down. But when they did happen you asked for Fred and sure enough, he'd come in and lay with you. You two were closer, that was becoming very clear. Nights would come where you couldn't sleep, Ginny would tell him and you two would just play a card game and talk. He listened to you, giving you genuine advice before cracking a joke and making you genuinely laugh.

When you went back to school you were more talkative, you actually participated in events, Fred was proud of seeing you slowly come out of your shell. A day of skipping did come along, you sitting underneath the tree and playing with Fred's hair. "So... How are you... With everything?" He asked. "Almost a year clean." You said with a smile. He smiled, looking up at you from your lap and put a hand on your cheek. "I'm proud of you Y/n... Truly." He said. You looked down at him and smiled noticing a strange tension looking at him. "...Y/n..." He breathed looking at you. You swallowed and looked up, a blush slowly forming. Fred leaned up and cleared his throat. "Sooo. What's our next class?" Fred asked. "This was our last class of the day." You said with a chuckle. "Ohhh.. I really gotta start paying attention." He said making you laugh. "Dinner is going to start in a few minutes, want to go?" Fred asked you. "Mmm.. I don't think so. I wanna see the sunset on the lake." You said. Fred sat cross-legged in front of you. "Then I will too." He said. "Wha-- Fred what about--" "I want to stay here." He said simply.

You pulled a deck of cards out of your binder and he chuckled. "Go fish or Rummy?" You asked. "Hmmm. Let's go simple today and say go fish." He said. You two played two rounds before you looked over at the sunset. "That's so pretty." You said with a smile. Fred smiled looking at you. "It really is." He said as the pink skies seemed to bring out your eyes. You looked over and Fred swallowed. You loved this boy... Didn't you?

He felt himself lean forward and you soon felt his lips on yours before you cradled his cheek, pulling away for air and resting your forehead on his. "I-I'm sorry I just reacted and--" "Fred... Please tell me you're going to do that again." You whispered. He chuckled and held your hand that was still on his cheek. "Only if you want me to." He said softly. You nodded with a smile and he kissed you again, feeling his arms slowly slink around you, pulling you almost into his lap.

"Promise you'll never leave me?" You asked. "Never would dream of it Princess."

[whumpiary]

whumptober 2020 | day 1: let’s hang out sometime

[content warning: discussed past self harm, referenced past abuse, mild dissociation/depersonalisation, intimate whumper]

-

There's something harrowing — gut-wrenching — about seeing a grown man cry. It's almost painful. Just watching someone with utter poise and dignity let it slide and crash because they don't care anymore who sees them crumble.

It's enough to make the one watching crumble a little, too. Just a little. It doesn't even matter what it is that they're crying over. A loved one in a hospital bed. A job that came to an end too quickly. A lost pet. Some spilled milk.

A boy strung up in the middle of their parlour, hands high above his head, barely standing where he's chained.

Christopher sobs silently, one hand clamped over his mouth as the other grips the edge of the desk he’s leaning against like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He had started tearing up as soon as he’d started taking away Cass’ clothing: a soft little gasp as he caught sight of the first scar, and then growing grief as more skin was exposed.

The first sob took the man over as the last scrap of clothing fell away and he’s been braced against the desk since. Shoulders softly shaking, eyes squeezed shut. As though he can barely stand to look at the boy in front of him without being overcome.

Cassius is cold. He registers it dimly. Distantly. This body, right now, isn’t his own. His senses seem to know that, relaying everything from a distance. Like hearing the radio from someone else’s car. Like watching the TV in the reflection of a window. 

The cuffs around his wrists cut in and his calves are starting to burn and his lungs ache from breathing against stretched out ribs and he also doesn’t care about any of it. He’s back here again. A whole new cycle that he always knew, not so far below the surface. And every scar across his body is a road map of a world that Cass already feels like he never escaped to to begin with.

Christopher  brings his hand to Cassius’ cheek and as though on muscle memory, Cass leans into it.

“My darling boy,” the older man whispers. His eyes are tear-filled still, searching Cass’ own desperately, as though for some sort of answer. Cass has none. “My darling, darling boy. What have they done to you?”

Cass holds Christopher’s gaze and for a moment wants to share with the man the entire history of the last few years. Every secret. Every truth. Give them up. Give them over. Undo. But he feels muzzled. Gagged. Like his lips are sewn shut.

There’s nothing to say. There’s everything to tell. 

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher says. His hand skirts over the scar near his shoulder, the one down his arm, the one at his ribs. Like a fucked up dot to dot. “I’m so sorry. If I had known… My god, darling boy, if I had known…”

Cass nearly laughs at that. He would have what? Bought the company just to win his contract back? Stolen him away? Killed Tucker with his bare hands? Or would he have shaken the man’s hand and given him a bonus? Asked to sit in for the next blood letting?

Christopher starts with the obvious.

“This one,” he says, pads of his fingers tracing the gnarled, raised scar along Cassius’ ribs. “Tell me about this one.”

“Got stabbed,” Cass mumbles. His mouth feels full of cotton wool. “Job went wrong. About a year in. Maybe later. Can't remember. Had to have surgery.”

Christopher sucks in a breath, deep and shuddering, covering his mouth on the exhale as another silent tear slides down his cheek. He brushes his cheek dry again with his knuckles and takes another breath to calm himself, lowering his head. For a moment, his hand sits heavy on Cassius’ hip, as though he needed it to steady himself. Cass rocks back on the balls of his feet just barely and the man’s grip seems to tighten in kind, keeping him still and close. 

They stay just like that for a moment until Christopher manages to collect himself, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, drying his eyes with a sniff. He drops his hand from his face to trace the scar again, breath stuttering. Cass feels seasick with the the touch. A dragging back of forth over scar-tissue he can’t quite feel properly.

“The scarring is terrible,” Christopher says.

Cass closes his eyes for a moment. If he imagines enough, the cool, dry hands are warm and steady instead. They’re firm and sure instead of claiming and caressing. They’re pulling him back together, stitch by stitch. The memory is such a sacred indulgence, he has to shake his head a little to clear it again.

“Yeah, they... fucked the stitches,” he says, voice croaked. “Had to get it redone.��

Another shaking breath. Another sniff. Cass keeps his eyes lowered. He doesn’t need to see the grief.

“Well that surgeon deserves to be fired.”

They go on like that. Christopher touching each scar, having him name and catalogue them, one after the other.

The thin one over his bottom lip. “Bar fight.”

The short thick one at his collarbone. “Lab test.”

The nick up by his brow. “Beat down.”

The curving long one down his arm. “Don’t remember.”

There are a few like that. More than he’d have expected. The burn on his arm. The glossy skin on his knuckles. The twisted one at his knee. Don’t remember. Don’t remember. Don’t remember.

And Christopher in between, mourning each one. Touching them, pressing his hand to them as though he could will the scars healed with his grief. Christopher has to keeping taking breaks for more tears and sobs. Like over, and over again he’s realising what he’s lost. Of what he once had. What he’ll never have back.

“My God, what have they done to you, darling boy?” He whispers it over and over again and over again. “You were so beautiful. So perfect. What have they done to you? What have they done?”

It takes them a while to retrace every new mark on him since Christopher has seen him last. The man is methodical and thorough. Scrupulous. Cass is almost startled by how many he finds. More than Cass would’ve discovered on his own, he’s sure. By the time they get to the last few, Cass can’t feel his hands. 

“I’m so sorry, my love, I know you’re tired,” Christopher says with a kiss to the cheek, a hand cupping his jaw. His eyes are filled with sympathy and apology. As though he isn’t the one who’s doing this. As though this is some necessary procedure instead of his own predilection. “We’re nearly done. Last ones.”

Christopher holds Cassius’ gaze as his hand drifts low, skirting a decent gathering of little scars at his hip, over his thigh. They’re smaller, these ones. Harder to see. Only a shade or so lighter than his skin these days but piece by piece, bit by bit, they stack up, start to look noticeable. Little fine nicks and cross hatches, some raised, some flat, all faded.

“These ones here. The lab again?”

Cass drops his eyes. He stares at them for a beat, stares at what he can see beneath the man’s hand anyway, before looking back to Christopher.

“No,” he says. He feels a thrill to say it. “Me.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Excuse me?”

“I did those ones myself.”

A beat. “I thought we broke you of that little habit.”

And they had. For a while. – You’ll be hurt on my terms or not at all. – But Christopher should’ve known it would be one of the first things to resurface once he was out of reach. Why shouldn’t it be?

Cass smiles at the older man, eyes dead. “If it helps, I thought of you every fucking time.”

Which isn’t true entirely but shit does it feel good to say it.

The slap that flies hard and brutal across his cheek feels good too.

“Don’t you do that to me,” Christopher says, after a moment. His voice is soft and quiet and sad. Shaking with what was maybe a little anger. Funny. It was rare to see Christopher show that card. “I’m hurting badly enough today, I don’t need your cruelty on top of it.”

Cass keeps his head turned, staring at the arm of the leather rancher’s sofa beside him. His cheek burns, hot and tingling with the blood rush, as Christopher’s hand trails up and to his shoulder. As the man steps behind him, both palms pressing at his shoulder blades. At his back.

“And these?” he says. Cass’ eyes shutter closed, breath all at once catching high in his chest. Christopher’s been saving these, he knows. The crosses and lines on his back. One after the other after the other after the other.

Cass can’t answer to these. He can’t say. Can’t bear to. And, by some virtue of generosity, by some kind of twisted, fucked up grace, Christopher doesn’t make him. “He gave these to you?”

It takes him another minute. A long, hard minute of trying to breathe. Christopher allows him the mercy of the hesitation. And then, shakily, he nods his head.

Christopher sucks in a shaky breath as his palm presses to the scarring and Cass can tell he’s crying all over again. The sob shakes down Christopher’s arm, into his hand and hits like a jolt of electricity through Cass’ spine. It feels like it shakes his

“My God. This is cruelty. This is… this is cruelty.”

And Cass could laugh at that. He really could. After everything, everything this man has done. After everything he’s put his head through and his heart through and his body. This is cruelty, is it? Finally, this is cruelty.

Nah, it’s not cruelty. He wants to say. Penance.

He’s glad the words don’t actually make it past his lips.

Christopher’s hand runs across them over and over, again and again, and the feeling is so strange, so tender, so violating that Cass finds himself pressing his face against his arm and screwing his eyes shut, as though to hide. Skin then scar then skin then scar. Numbed then felt. Hot then cold.

Every trace of the crosses feel like he’s being stripped bare. As though with every caress, Christopher is peeling away a layer of numbness, a layer of armour, an exoskeleton. The world is like a burning thing without it all.

Cass hangs his head, arms still stretched up and aching, and he sobs, voice pulling out of him in a broken whisper. “Please stop.”

The plea seems to bring Christopher to the surface of whatever grief laden fascination he’s lost in and the man circles in front of him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb catching the tear that slides down it. Christopher’s tears mirror Cassius’ own as the man presses their foreheads together and Cass is sure they look a lovely picture of grief.

Shared martyrdom. Saint and saviour.

Maybe the man should have crucified him instead.

“I’m so sorry, Cassius,” Christopher whispers again, and Cass cringes and cries and keeps his eyes shut. “If I had known… I promise you, if I had known…”

It’s a mercy beyond measure that the man never finishes the sentence.