#I’m tired of being silenced by yet another abuser

[salbei-141]

Be honest with me (Roman Roy x reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, pure fluff and comfort, mentions of verbal abuse

a/n: Inactivity who? A rare update I know lol. Anyway y’all I’m so in love with him - honestly in love with all the Roy siblings, but Romulus got a special place in my heart <3

I love how late I jump onto writing trends for characters, but in my defence I've had this in the drafts for MONTHS. Anyway, hope you enjoy my loves <3

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The apartment was silent, it felt too out of character, especially for Roman. The both of you lay in silence on his bed, still in today's clothes.

You move your hand slowly - scared that a sudden movement would cause him to suddenly get up and leave without warning. Tentatively, you inch your fingers onto his own - he said nothing, nor did he move. Gaining more confidence and desperate to comfort him knowing how loud his mind must be right now - you encapsulate his hand within your own. They’re soft and warm - Roman was always warm to touch. You feel his hand squeeze your own back - still no words being said.

You take a deep breath, feeling the need to break the silence finally, but before you can, Roman cuts you off.

“Please don’t,” his voice came out weak - he was usually so quick witted…he just sounded tired.

“Okay,” your voice was soft - a complete dichotomy to the tone he was used to from his father and siblings.

Another 30 minutes went by in complete silence - the both of your steady breaths being the only thing heard. Your hand still lay in his - he hadn't moved an inch unless it was to gently squeeze your hand every so often.

You turn on your side, slipping your hand out of his - he still didn't move. You decided to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder and draping your right arm across his chest that rose up and down with each breath he took.

You studied his face - he looked like he wanted to push you off of him, and yet simultaneously he was aching to pull you closer to him. Your touch was the only touch he felt safe feeling - you'd never hurt him, and he never doubted that thought for a second, but he was just so used to being alone and pushing people away.

You were desperate to hear his voice, to understand what was running through his head. You knew he was probably going to say some stupid quip to hide how he really felt, but you'd see straight through him; he knew this and it was the scariest thing to him - that you actually saw him.

"Ro...," you were gentle - a part of him just wanted you to shout at him and tell him he was a waste of space just like his father had - it was all he knew. However, you were just too kind, you actually cared for him, and not in the way his father cared for him - if you could call it that - but in a way that was so genuine and pure that it felt wrong to him, but he craved every second of it.

His gaze moved from the ceiling to your worried face - you looked beautiful he thought, he had always thought you were the most beautiful person he knew. "Yeah," his voice sounded small and tired.

"Are you okay?" the question was stupid, you knew he wasn't, but you wondered if he'd answer you honestly - if for once he'd be vulnerable with you, and truly let you into what was going through his mind.

"What? Pfft yeah I'm fine, real fucking good...just thinking about who has bigger tits - you or Gerri...I think Gerri does," there it was...he couldn't be honest with you for a minute if he tried - he'd rather say some crude shit and hope you'd be weirded out enough like everyone else and just leave him so he could avoid sharing his emotions.

You sat up, leaning on one hand as you stared down at him while he tried to avoid your gaze which was slowly glazing over with unshed tears. "Roman...please I-...can you just be honest with me?" your voice had a slight shake - scared that you were going to push him over the edge and he'd run.

He made eye contact with you, his heart clenching in his chest, no one had made him feel the way you could make him feel, and that scared him. He didn't know what to do - his mind was screaming so many things at him all at once that he couldn't really make a decision, so he stayed silent.

Several minutes passed of you both just holding each other's gaze then he opened his mouth tentatively, "Why do you care about me? Why can't you just call me a freak or a perv and leave?" You watched as his eyes reddened and glazed over as he tried his hardest not to cry in front of you. Had you cracked him? It felt bittersweet that he might finally just be honest with you, but the pain in his eyes was tearing at your heart.

You smiled, giggling softly as you lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped away a singular tear that had managed to fall, watching as he turned his face to meet your caress - he trusted you. "Because I fucking love you Roman".

"But why?" he interrupted you like a child would trying to understand such a foreign concept that you were trying to explain.

"There's no reason - I mean there is, you're...you. I love you Roman." You were so soft with him, it felt alien to him. It broke you that he couldn't fathom the concept of someone genuinely loving him, and in such a pure way too. This love wasn't like the love from his father, nor from his siblings - it was something so foreign that he couldn't understand it, but he liked it...he liked this.

You laid back down beside him, "Come here Ro...please" your eyes had such a soft stare - they were so warm and inviting, he couldn't object to the embrace you were offering him.

Roman inched across the bed over into your arms, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your chest, while you wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close to you. You fell into a comfortable silence, holding each other without a care in the world - it was just the both of you.

"I love you too, you know?" he muttered it so quietly that it almost went unheard, but a smile spread across your face at his confession. You knew that he had probably been having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he was actually going to say it to you; without any sarcasm too.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest and you pulled him closer to you, "Yeah I know". You tilted your head down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He went to open his mouth to say some sarky comment, but immediately shut it - he didn't need to feel defensive around you, not now, and not ever.

[earlgreydream]

I see you. professor!kylo ren x reader

happy Star Wars day! as per tradition, @little-diable and I had to do a sexy little kylo ren collaboration for you 🖤

cw: stalking

She felt eyes on her wherever she went. Following her around like a shadow sewn to her boots. Teasing her from afar as if they knew she could never catch them. Whoever was watching her was playing a game (y/n) could only lose.

“Miss (y/n), would you mind staying back for a moment?” Professor Ren’s voice filled the room, forcing her tired eyes off the ground. Her insides began to churn as she slowly walked up to his desk, having to swallow the bile rising in her throat – she had begged her fates to help her, to make her disappear before the handsome professor could catch her. But even today they seemed to ignore her.

“I think you know why I asked you to stay back, don’t you?” He was leaning against his desk, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. A perfect view of his bulging muscles, forcing his shirt to stretch – it was a sight (y/n) was all too used to by now, months after first joining this class. And yet it still left her distracted, bothered by the handsome professor she thought of whenever heat began to pool between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll turn the missing essays in this weekend.” The defeated sigh leaving the tall man made goosebumps rise on (y/n)’s forearms. Tears were about to well up in her tired eyes, tears that would leave her embarrassed, not daring to cry in front of the man she longed for. She hated disappointing him, hated lacking in her homework, once the best student of his class – nothing but hazy memories she barely remembered by now.

“What is going on, (y/n)? You were such an eager student last semester. Did something happen?” Pain shot through her at his question, forced to avert her gaze before she could spill her secret about what has kept her awake late at night these past weeks. Professor Ren kept his eyes focused on her, clearly aware of her struggles to put whatever was plaguing her into words. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m being stalked.” The words clawed through (y/n) before she could stop them from leaving her, lured out of her by the nickname he had used. She still couldn’t look at him, rather focusing on her trembling fingers trying to hold onto her books, clinging to them as if they were a pillar holding her together as if she was an ancient building.

(Y/n) felt the professor move, engulfed by their silence, but the second his hand met her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, (y/n) could no longer stop her tears from rolling. One after another rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the cold ground both were standing on.

“Did you tell anybody else about this?” She felt small in his grasp, his big hands covering most parts of the left side of her face. (Y/n) had to stop herself from pressing further into his grasp as she shook her head, unable to speak up. “Alright, for now we’ll keep this between us. If whoever is stalking you hears of you telling others, they may escalate. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I am sorry.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, lured out of her by his closeness, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the feeling of his hand still cupping her cheek. Carefully, she was pulled against his chest, allowing the tall man to hug her as if he wasn’t her professor, as if he wasn’t in a position of power he was now clearly abusing.

“There is nothing you have to be sorry for, (y/n). I’ll help you with this, I promise. Here, let me give you my number. From now on, you call me whenever you feel like you’re being watched.”

……

The door to Kylo’s home slammed shut behind him, his hands twitching as he ripped the white button-down from his toned body. He was driven mad by the ghost of her body against his, the way her breasts pressed to his chest when he hugged her.

Kylo’s breathing was ragged as he made his way through the house, hands roughly undoing the buttons on his jeans, freeing himself from the tight constraint. He dropped onto the bed, curly hair flopping around his face in a dark halo as if he were a prince of hell. Kylo craved her sweet little body against his — naked this time, and all of the things he could do to make her writhe and scream his name.

His cock was rock-hard as he thought of y/n, aching to touch her, more than just the way his hands skimmed her waist when she pulled away from his embrace. Kylo stroked himself with a large hand, wishing it was her. He fantasized about fucking her precious mouth — the source of her tears choking on his size.

Kylo moaned. It was filthy, the images in his mind of y/n on her knees, begging for the cock he was jacking off. He was embarrassingly close, only a few moments away from climax, desperately wishing he was buried in her cunt.

Kylo’s full lips parted with a breathless hiss as he came into his hand. He stared at a framed photo of y/n on his bedside, ignoring the mess he’d made on his palm and lower abdomen, dreaming she were there to clean it with her tongue.

……

Kylo waited. It was Tuesday, so she was due for her weekly study session at the campus coffeehouse. He anxiously checked his watch, eyes snapping upward at the tinkling of doorbells overhead.

He saw a flash of her as she walked inside, her usual cheerful expression hollowed out by grim anxiety. His own smile vanished, hating to see her upset. As much as he longed to run in after and embrace her, he lurked in the shadows of an alley across the street, watching through the glass storefront. He was just making sure she was safe from anyone who might have sinister intentions.

Kylo was lost in thought when his cell began to buzz in his blazer pocket. Her cell number lit up across the screen, y/n holding her phone to her ear inside the shop.

“Hello. y/n?” Kylo answered, his lips pulling into a smile as she finally called him.

“Professor Ren—”

“Kylo, please,” he interrupted gently.

“Kylo, I’m…” the words died in her throat, she felt so ridiculous calling him just because of that eerie feeling that crawled up her spine.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Kylo’s voice soothed, and she found herself blinking back tears.

“I’m at the coffeehouse, and it’s probably nothing, but… you said to call you if I felt like I was being watched,” y/n stumbled over the words, unsure of how to ask her professor for help.

“I’m not far, I’ll come to you,” he spoke, swallowing the happiness in his voice knowing that he’d be close to you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Relief visibly melted the fear on her face as he entered the door. She lowered her phone, quickly brushing her eyes with the back of her hand. Kylo’s long strides closed the distance, and he took a seat beside y/n on the couch.

“I’m here, you’re safe,” he promised, lightly touching her knee, breaching just a little bit further than he had before, his heart racing from the risk of being seen.

Kylo hushed the apologies, insisting that he was happy to join her.

……

“Are you sure I’m not imposing?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through Kylo’s house. She had her arms wrapped around herself, somewhat trying to hide her trembling body from his intense gaze. Just his mere gaze left her aching for his closeness, feeling unusually protected and safe around him.

“Of course not, sweetheart. You’re safe here, I promise!” Kylo showed her one of his rare smiles as he guided her towards his living room, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his big hand. (Y/n) looked so small next to him, perfect for him to own, to protect, to hold.

“I just,” a sigh left her as they plopped down on the dark couch, sitting closer as any other professor and his student would. His outer thigh pressed against hers, letting her feel the warmth he emanated while (y/n) played with her shaking fingers.

“What is it?” His fingers found her chin, turning her face towards his concerned one. Their eyes met, hers full of fear and sadness, his full of curiosity and comfort. She struggled to find her words, too distracted by his closeness, the way her body reacted to him, and the unfamiliar need taking up her body.

(Y/n) couldn’t pinpoint what it was that drove her on, but her body began to move without her mind being able to stop her, pressing her lips against his plush ones. For a second, Kylo didn’t react to the sudden touch, forcing (y/n) to retreat with fear suddenly overtaking her, cursing herself for being this stupid. But the second her lips left his, Kylo drew her back in.

She straddled his lap as Kylo deepened the kiss, high on (y/n)’s need for distraction. The moan that clawed through her as she ground her hips against his burned through his whole system, urging Kylo on to hold her even closer. His touch made her feel alive, properly seen for the first time as if the mirror finally caught her reflection, allowing (y/n) to feel something she had only dreamt of until now.

“Careful, sweetheart. I won’t be gentle if we take this any further.” Kylo’s voice grew lower with every syllable he spoke, letting his words vibrate against her swollen lips. But (y/n) seemed to be stuck in some form of trance that robbed her of her voice, kissing Kylo once again.

She felt him rise to his feet with her clinging to him, arms and legs wrapped around his broad frame. He carried her towards his bedroom without breaking the kiss once, revelling in her closeness and her need for him.

She gasped as their lips finally parted, her body sinking into the bed where he laid her. Kylo’s wild eyes burned with lust, his lips swollen and hair slightly dishevelled from the way she had clawed through him. He knelt between her parted legs, gazing down at the prize in his bed as he took a beat to catch his breath.

Nerves began to get the best of her, making her squirm on his sheets. Kylo’s hand went to her bare thigh, a sundress pushed up nearly high enough to reveal a glimpse of her underwear. Y/n stilled at the touch, whimpering softly for him, her body itching for some sort of relief that only he could satisfy.

“What a pretty sight you are, I should take a picture of you.” His words left her panting, high on his praises. Y/n wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that she was purely his in a moment like this, but her words were lost on her lips as Kylo pushed her panties aside to let his mouth find her heat.

“Oh, heaven.” Y/n sighed her words, ready to drown in the wave of lust his touch pushed through her. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her feel as if she was burning alive, laid beneath him like his last ever meal. Kylo ate her out with an unfamiliar passion, it took over every part of his body, guiding him to safety as she trembled beneath him.

His eyes watched her every expression, watching her lips part as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, eagerly swallowing his digits as if he were fucking her with his aching cock. Soon enough he’d have her, soon enough he’d make her his, forever bound to him by the way he’d fuck her through her high.

“Kylo,” y/n gasped his name as he curled his fingers against her swollen spot, a sensation that was lost the second he pulled away. He parted from y/n to undress, to expose every inch of his broad, muscular frame to her wide eyes.

Y/n’s heart picked up its beat at the sight of his naked form, squealing in surprise as he pulled her dress from her frame, groaning as her naked breasts were exposed to his dark eyes. She couldn’t speak up, couldn’t ask any further questions as he reached for a condom, telling her that this was really happening.

She needed a second to calm down, to accept that everything was spinning, that she’d lose herself in the touch of her professor. But somehow she still felt safe, awfully safe in Kylo’s closeness, ready to give herself to him.

“You’re mine, and you always will be mine.” He spoke the words as he pushed into her, letting his cock part her walls. It felt as if he was ripping her open, bigger than she was used to, unsure how to take all of him. Her whines bled in his ears like a warcry, urging him on to take what was rightfully his, overpowering the darkest thoughts that whispered to him.

Her nails dragged down his freckled chest, leaving harsh red lines in their wake. Beautiful eyes were hidden behind wet lashes that were squeezed shut in raw, aching pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so much better than I could’ve imagined.” Kylo swore, his lips pressing hot, wet kisses to her collarbone, ghosting up her neck.

He was drunk on the pleasure, her warm cunt tight around his cock, urging him to thrust harder, bruising her hips.

“Let me hear you, tell me you belong to me!” Kylo demanded of y/n as her back arched, chasing the orgasm he was keeping just out of reach.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” she whimpered, gasping beneath him as his fingers circled her clit.

She shuddered beneath him, trembling from the intensity of him, throat hoarse from crying his name. He allowed y/n to weave her fingers through his hair, pulling him into a heavy kiss as she came. Kylo’s teeth tugged at her lip, dizzied by the wrecked moan it dragged from her swollen lips.

The slick sound of him pulling out was the only noise in the room before he painted her lower belly with white ribbons. Kylo fell back on his heels, kneeling above her to catch his breath, admiring his prey, lured into his bed and torn to pieces, marked with his seed.

Y/N’s eyes were closed, her body succumbing to the exhaustion that he’d inflicted. He took a moment to admire her in the state, before taking photos with his phone before she could object.

……

She was his. He was the only one to keep her safe. He was the only one to protect her from any and every evil. She was his.

Kylo hid behind the pair of dark sunglasses that matched the dark cap he wore, shielding his frame from her curious eyes. Y/n was sitting a few feet away from him, sharing a coffee with her friend as they rambled about things he couldn’t hear.

He still felt her wrapped around him, the way she had clenched his cock, how she had moaned for him. A perfect match made in heaven, Kylo was sure of it.

It was on him to watch her. It was on him to keep her safe. Even though she would never know it were his wandering eyes she felt following her around.

[911lonestar911imagines]

The Creek - Evan 'Buck' Buckley x Reader 1/?

Summary: You grew up being best friends with the Buckley Siblings, all three of you coming from rough homes, but one by one everybody left, leaving you on your own to deal with it all..until one day you're able to tell Evan everything you wanted to the day he left.

Warnings: Mentions of drug use (cocaine), mentions/implications of past child abuse, implications that the father and friends are creeps.

A/N: Hello again, I am back! This is a new series I'm working on, this isn't edited or proof-read, so just lmk what you think!

You were only 6 whenever you met the Buckley’s, you had just moved into their neighborhood, taking residence in the home right next to theirs, you got really close with Maddy and Evan, you always met them in the creek a few blocks away of your guys’s houses. They never liked being home because their brother wasn’t there or their parents always yelled at Evan, and you never liked being home because your dad was really mean whenever he’d have his friends over to smell sugar together, which you always thought was weird until you were older and realized what exactly they were doing.

It became a ritual for years, always meeting them at the creek, you’d go on adventures, discovering new hidden spots around the creek where you’d play different imaginary games, but one day..Maddy wasn’t there anymore. Just Evan.

You pushed the branches from in front of you to reveal just the boy you watched grow from a little boy into a teenage boy, awkward acne covering his face, his hair dangling in front of his blood shot swollen eyes. “Hey Evan..what’s wrong?…is your sister hanging out with doug today?” You asked, disgust dripping in your voice whenever you mentioned her boyfriend “Maddie decided to move in with him..she’s gone..” he whispered, his voice cracking, you frowned rushing over hugging him tightly “are you okay?..I’m here for you Evan” you assured him squeezing him tightly, fighting off your own tears.

You two still met by the creek everyday, opening up more to each other day by day about what was going on at home, you ended up going to prom together, he was your escape from what was going on at home, the drug abuse got worse, and him and his friends got a lot creepier towards you now that you were getting older. After one night though, after a really bad fight with your dad, you rushed to the creek, your lip still dripping blood, your cheekbone slowly swelling and bruising, your sobs broke the silence in the air as you broke through the branches, and yet..nobody. Evan wasn’t there. Maybe something had happened at home?

You couldn’t think, you just ran, desperate to hear his words that somehow always comforted you, as you approached his house you saw his parents outside screaming towards Maddie’s jeep, Evan appearing from behind it holding a duffel bag “I don’t need this! I’m leaving!” He yelled before climbing in slamming the door, the tires squealing as he pulled off, and just for a moment, you thought at least, your teary eyes locked with his hate-filled ones. He just sped past, by now you had wiped the blood from your lip, making eye contact with his parents before shaking your head in disgust heading back to the house you so desperately wanted to run from just like Evan had done, why hadn’t he told you? He didn’t he take you with him? He knew what was going on at home, so why didn’t he?

You spent another 3 years in that home before finally leaving, moving with your friend who ended up getting a beach house from her parents in LA. You ended up getting a job babysitting a few kids that lived near your home, one kid specifically had most of your time, his father was a full-time firefighter and he had lost his mother not to long ago, so you were always trying to cheer him up.

As you walked into the Diaz household, you were greeted by your favorite noise, Christopher squealing and laughing from the living room "Alright, come on, Buck we gotta get to work before Bobby sends Hen out for us" You heard Eddie say to somebody "Eddie!? I'm here! Has Mr. Diaz eaten yet?" You called chuckling, it was something you had started calling Christopher after he had a bad day at school, you acted like a butler for the day taking him to do whatever he wanted that day, ever since then the name just stuck. "He has! his Buck took him out to eat at the pier this morning!" Eddie shouted back, you smiled walking through the doorway freezing right where you stood as you made eye contact with someone you swore you'd punch in the face next time you saw him. Evan fucking Buckley. "Oh hey! Buck this is Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n this is Buck!" Christopher cheered, Eddie picked up on your nervousness, coughing awkwardly nudging Buck forward who extended a hand out "Evan Buckley, but my friends call me Buck" He smiled, goddamnit that smile, you gulped down a sneer as you grabbed his hand going to shake it "Have we met you look really familiar?" He asked as you shook his hand smiling "Nope." You quickly replied "Alright come on, we're gonna be late" Eddie said, you watched as realization washed over Evan's face as he watched you the entire way out of the door.

"Eddie, you don't understand, I know her! and..I kinda did something messed up" Buck said as they climbed out of the firetruck heading towards the locker rooms to change, he had been trying to convince Eddie he knew you for 23 hours now, and finally, Eddie decided to humor him, letting him explain everything on the way to drop Buck off.

Whenever Eddie got home, he found Christopher fast asleep in his room, you posted up outside of his doorway in the hall, fast asleep leaning against the wall. "Hey, Y/n/n, come on, let's get you to the guest bed" He whispered, helping your still half asleep self to his guest bedroom, letting you fall asleep in there for the rest of the night.

You hadn't seen Evan again in three days, anytime you went to babysit Chris, Eddie would always give you a sympathetic look before leaving and it started to get under your skin, to the point where on your day off you drove to the firehouse, waiting patiently with the fire captain, Bobby Nash, for Evan to come in for a 'meeting'. You watched as Bobby nodded to the entrance where Evan walked in confused "I'll send him up for you" He said, giving you the same sympathetic look Eddie did as he left. You waited a few moments before Evan appeared at the top of the staircase "Y/n?" He asked nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he approached the chair in front of you. "I always said if I ever saw you again..I'd punch the little smile off of your face" You whispered, fidgeting with your nails, Buck sighed, his knee bouncing anxiously, waiting for the yelling and fighting that always came whenever he was a child getting reprimanded, but you just sat there. As he looked up he noticed the tears falling from your eyes onto your pantlegs "I-I was so worried about you, Evan" You whimpered quietly "Y-you left without even telling me anything..I-I thought I did something wrong, Evan" You continued, your broken voice slowly turning to a sob "I-I'm so sorry, y/n..I-I was hurting..and I needed to take time away, t-to find myself without hurting anybody I loved" He explained, His explanation just angered and upset you more "I was hurting! I was hurting, Evan! I told you about my dad! about his friends! everything I went through! you were my person, Evan! t-the one person i could cry to without being laughed at!" You cried pushing him off of you whenever he attempted to hug you "you left me, Evan. You left me there to die so you could save yourself. some firefighter" You scoffed, your face was red from crying, your entire body was shaking, you felt dizzy and like your legs were slowly turning into sand, your breathing was way faster than it should've been, you needed to get out.

As you approached the stairs, your vision was filled with spots and you knew this is where your walk ended for now. Eddie was quick to notice you as soon as he heard your shouts, rushing up the stairs skipping them three at a time to get to you right as you fell forward. Just by an inch he caught you, slowly lowering you down as he looked at Buck "Get me the med-kit and lifevac from the truck" He demanded, Buck quick to rush around the two of you to the ambulance, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, but as he lifted the bag from the ambulance the lump in his throat burst into sobs, he rushed up the stairs handing the supplies to Eddie looking at him "W-What do I do?" He whimpered.

You woke up not too long after that, your head was rested on Eddie's thigh as he watched the small machine monitoring your heartbeat, you took notice to someone holding onto your hand uncomfortably tight, you could feel something dripping onto your knuckles but from the way your body was positioned you couldn't see. "There she is, welcome back, Y/n" Bobby greeted, knelt a few feet in front of you, only now do you notice you've been moved to the carpeted part of the floor upstairs where you and Evan spoke. "I-I'm sorry, I need to go" You started but Eddie just rested his hand on your shoulder "You need to take it slow....That was almost a nasty fall, and your heart rate is still elevated" He said gently, you took his advice slowly sitting up, you could feel his hand resting on your upper back to help you support yourself until you were confident enough to do it on your own.

Once you were up, you saw him, Evan was still sat on the floor, off to the side holding your hand tightly, his leg bent slightly as it shook, his face almost resembling yours from earlier "Buckley, Easy on the hand" Bobby whispered gently to him, rubbing his shoulder gently, you had explained the situation to Bobby whenever you first got there, and while he knew Buck had somewhat of a dark past, he didn't think anything about the old friend Evan talked about. Bobby felt terrible for you both, seeing how much pain you were both in, he had met you before, he just knew you as Y/n the sweet babysitter that happily takes care of Chris. As Buck loosened his grip, you left your hand resting in his, you weren't sure if you should leave and never talk to anybody ever again, or maybe for a moment, you thought of staying, ignoring the glances of sympathy from others who now know your childhood story.

You stayed there for another hour before Eddie let you leave 'I just want to make sure you're okay' he'd tell you every time you asked to leave. As you sat on your couch in a daze you almost never noticed the knocking on your door, instead of answering like usual, you just shouted to come in, not moving from your position on your couch, covered in a blanket with your arms around your knees that were pulled to your chest. "I-I know you probably don't wanna see me but-" Evan's voice was cut off by Christopher's cheers as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you "Dad said you got sick today, so...I made Buck bring me over to take care of you!" He smiled, you could feel yourself starting to cry as you examined his happy cheerful face. Christopher was without a doubt the most thoughtful selfless boy you had ever met, so caring and sweet, and you were so happy to have him and his father as friends. Chris frowned sitting next to you as he hugged you as tight as he could "It's okay y/n.." He whispered, all you could do was hug him back, unable to say anything as Evan slowly walked over to sit on your recliner across from the couch "How about..I make us your favorite snack" He smiled getting up from his spot next to you to take the grocery bag from Evan rushing as fast as he could to the kitchen.

You were left in the living room with Evan, the air was thick as you tried to avoid his gaze "y/n.." He whispered, you could hear him shuffling around before feeling the cushion dip down next to you. "P-Please don't, Evan" You whimpered "I physically cannot handle this" You whispered, trying to stay strong, but once you met his gaze you folded, his curls were hanging infront of his puffy bloodshot eyes and all of a sudden you were kids again, Maddie had just moved out and you were at the creek. "I'm so sorry...I-I thought about you every day..I even tried to come back..to get you..or at least see you but your dad would tell me you left..or you ran off..or some random story.." He whispered "I never stopped looking for you..I left because Maddie ditched our plans of seeing the country..but once I realized I truly loved you, y/n..I always came back for you..I just..never found you until you showed up at Eddie's" He explained, his voice breaking, you could tell it was already strained "I have never cared more for anybody in this world than I did for you, and I was so fucking stupid for leaving you behind" He whispered, his breaking voice turned into a stifled sob whenever you fell into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly in a hug as you cried into your blanket "I hoped for you to come back every single time I had to deal with things alone..but you never did, Evan..so I left" You cried gripping onto his shirt

You ended up eating snacks and watching star wars with the boys until Chris ended up having to go home for the night, Evan promising he'd come back to you. You sat in the same spot waiting, watching the clock, your mind flashing back to all of the moments you'd spend watching the clock imagining Evan busting in to whisk you away but he never did. You turned slightly, watching the door, starting to imagine him walking through, the cute little smile he always had presenting itself as he walked in, but right as you started thinking that, the door opened. Buck walked in soaked from rain water, You smiled a bit "Didn't you have a jacket whenever you left?" You asked trying to hide your giggles "It started to pour and I didn't want Christopher's crutches to get wet or anything so I wrapped them in my jacket and a spare one I had in the truck" He explained sitting down next to you sighing "Evan!!" You groaned "You're gonna get my couch soaked!" You continued throwing your head back giggling, Evan smiled at you, not saying anything just admiring your smile and laugh.

You slowly looked at him noticing his stare "What's wrong?" You asked, nervousness starting to spread through your body "Nothing...I just..missed you" He whispered before bringing you into a hug, you sighed relaxing in his company, right as he went to kiss the top of your head gently, you went to look up at him, causing your lips to meet just right, neither of you pulled away though, Evan was as gentle as he could be. His fingertips felt like feathers as they gently cupped your cheek, your lips moving in sync together, the rain pattering softly on your window as you finally pulled away from each other.

"what now?.." You asked nervously.

[quinnysnursery]

[👻🎥] you're an angel & i'm a dog | sam and colby one-shot

paring : little!colby brock x cg!sam golbach

summary : the comfort to the hurt (sequel to bad dog)

warning/extra tid-bits : healing from an emotionally and physically abusive relationship, lots of tears, panic attack, nightmares

word count : 1431

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (x's on the bottom are by @saradika-graphics)

a/n : i'm aware the lyrics don't perfectly fit the scenes but i tried my best okay guys (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl!)

You’re an Angel,

Sam had stopped by for a surprise visit, Colby was ecstatic, Jennifer was not.

It started out fine. Sure, Colby knew he was in for the scolding of his life when Sam returned to LA but he missed Sam way too much to be worried about the impending punishments he’d receive.

Jennifer managed to make it to the second night of Sam’s stay before chucking yet another glass at the man in an act of blind rage. Sam heard from the upstairs guest room- of course, and called the cops.

That’s what got them here.

I’m a Dog

Colby choked out a sob, clinging onto the blonde man’s hand as red and blue lights flashed around the neighborhood. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you colbs.” Sam assured, keeping his best friend within arms reach.

Both men’s statements had already been taken, and the EMT’s had already cleared Colby of any physical damage. An arrest had been made and that was it, Colby’s daily nightmare was over. Jennifer Akins was arrested for domestic violence against Colby Brock.

The brunette man knew he should’ve been happy about it, ecstatic even.

But as Sam cleaned up the shattered glass on the floor and a now-regressed Colby sat on the marble countertops, he couldn’t help but feel a new sense of loneliness. Sure, Jennifer was probably the shittiest caregiver in the world…but she was Colby’s caregiver.

She was the first person who called Colby “her little one”. The first person to read him bedtime stories. She was his first caregiver, and Colby missed her.

Or you're a dog 

Sam knew the little sitting in front of him had seen enough for a lifetime. His heart broke for his friend, had Sam known the horrors that were Jessica’s actions, he would’ve done everything in his power to keep Colby in LA.

The dark-haired little yawned, reminding Sam that he was supposed to be responsible for his best friend. 

“Tired?” Sam asked gently, his heart breaking as Colby flinched at the silence being broken. Colby nodded sheepishly, earning a small hum of acknowledgement from the blonde.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” Sam smiled, offering his hand to the little. Colby blinked at him, confused- it had been forever since Colby was put to bed by someone else.

Sam figured as much, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care how long it took for Colby to be comfortable receiving love, Sam would be by his side every step of the way.

and I'm your man

Healing a traumatized little was easier said than done, that became incredibly clear within the first week of moving Colby back into him and Sam’s LA home.

“No!” Colby yelled, pushing Sam’s gentle hands away. Sam was only trying to stop him from tugging at his hair, but that didn’t matter to the little- at least not right now. Colby didn’t want comfort, comfort still wasn’t something the little was used too. It was unfamiliar, unfamiliarity was scary.

“Buddy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” The blonde tried explaining, both men falling victim to frustrated tears. Colby choked out a sob, hitting the couch cushion next to him. “Colbs, can we use gentle hands?” Sam tried, keeping his hands to himself this time. The little sniffled, pausing as he processed the words said to him.

If Colby wasn’t using gentle hands, was he using mean hands? This thought made the little want to curl up in shame. 

Jennifer used mean hands, was Colby just as bad as her?

You believe me like a god

Despite the meltdowns and countless tear-stained shirts, Sam wasn’t giving up. Colby needed him, or maybe Sam needed Colby to know he was worthy of love. 

Pure, unconditional love.

“Is it good?” Sam smiled at the little who was humming happily to himself, chocolate ice cream dripping onto the tesla’s leather seats. That didn’t matter though, Colby had a genuine smile on his face. “Mhm!” The little beamed.

The car ride home was filled with plenty of unapologetic giggles. 

That night as Sam was about to slip out of Colby’s room, under the assumption that the little sprawled out next to him had been asleep since the final bedtime story, the blonde haired man heard a sleepy voice call out. 

“Sammy, ‘tay…” 

So he did.

I'll destroy you like I am

Colby knocked repeatedly on his best friend’s room door, panicked tears flooding down his cheeks. “Come in!” Sam called from behind the door, unaware of the brown-haired man’s emotional state.

“S-Sam,” Colby choked out, his headspace taunting him. He wanted to slip, he needed to slip but right as he went too- he’d had a flashback. Resulting in his current panicked state.

Sam instantly sprung into action, “Hey…hey, what’s going on?” He asked, knitting his brows together as he stood up off his bed. The blonde wasted no time helping his friend sit down, “Deep breathes.” He reminded the taller man.

A sob caught in Colby’s throat, “I-I don’t want her back.” He thought out loud. It didn’t take Sam long to figure out who Colby was speaking about, “She’s not coming back, I promise.” He soothed. 

Colby nodded, trusting his friend’s words as truth, Sam hadn’t ever lied to him before.

When Colby finally calmed, he found himself lying atop Sam’s bed, the blonde running gentle fingers through his hair. “M’ sorry I bothered you.” The little mumbled, voice hoarse from sobbing just moments prior. 

“You didn’t bother me,” Sam reassured, “I’m really proud of you for coming to get me.”

I'm sorry I'm the one you love

Sam smiled proudly as he peaked at the crayon-drawing that the brown-haired little was working on, mac and cheese boiling on the stove behind him. “Is that Jake and Johnnie?” The blonde joked, earning a lighthearted whine from Colby.

“Noooo,” The little drew out, “...’s us.” Colby shyly smiled, despite the bundle of nerves in his stomach. Sam beamed, both internally and externally. “Me and you?” He asked, despite knowing the answer. Colby nodded meekly, “M’ sorry, ‘s not that good-” 

“Nono!” Sam quickly disagreed, bending slightly to meet the little’s eyes. “It’s perfect, should we put it on the fridge?” He asked, his heart fluttering as he saw a twinkle of the old childlike wonder that little Colby used to have in the brown-haired man's eyes. “Yeah!” Colby excitedly chirped.

Both boys worked together to hang the drawing, Sam holding the paper against the cool metal and Colby placing the magnet they’d bought from the Stanley Hotel almost 5 years ago down to hold it in place.

Sam wrapped his arms around the little, mumbling about how it looked “perfect”

No one will ever love me like you again.

Colby’s legs carried him before he could recognize what was happening. He’d had a nightmare, which wasn’t uncommon but that didn’t make them any less scary.

This one had been just like the rest, Jennifer somehow taking Colby away from Sam.

It dawned on Colby as he passed a window that it was late, maybe around 3:00 am. That didn’t stop him though, the little marched right through Sam’s bedroom door- tears falling down his cheeks.

“D-Dada,” He called out, much to little to chicken out of giving Sam such an important title. The blonde man woke up immediately to the sound of someone in his room, his heart instantly calming when he realized it was Colby. “Hey bud…what’s going on?” He asked, opening up the covers- allowing the little to slide into his arms. 

Colby simply sniffled, wiping his red eyes. “Bad dream?” Sam theorized, earning a painful whimper from the little. Sam cooed with sympathy, brushing the little’s hair in a soothing motion.

“I’ve got you, it was just’a dream.” He reassured, rubbing circles into his distressed friend’s back. “Don’ wanna go with Jenny, wanna ‘tay with dada…” Colby sniffled, his breathing hitching as he spoke. Sam paused just for a second, his own eyes welling with tears.

Dada.

Colby trusted him enough to give him that title.

“Dada’s not gonna let anything happen to you bud,” Sam kissed the top of his head, “Tomorrow we’ll take up and have pancakes, and you won’t ever have to go back with her.” He added, holding his boy close.

After a plethora of different reassurances and a promise that they'd get ice cream again, Colby fell fast asleep in Sam’s arms- knowing he wouldn’t have to live in fear of Jennifer, because his dada wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

taglist !! :

@beesonhoneytoast @mattssturnz @mattsturniologf444 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @cherry-red-heart @https--roman @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx @tyummyz

[reidingandwriting]

Lover (Steve Harrington’s Version)

Chapter Three: The Archer

“Screaming who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?”

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mild cursing, off screen abuse to reader from her father (mentions of a bruise on face and allusions to past problems), reader is a little emotionally constipated but they work through it

Previous chapter / Next Chapter

You were late. So very late. Your professor went on a tangent, having been distracted by a question another student asked, and it was ten minutes after class was supposed to end before you were finally dismissed. Then your car had a flat and you had to hunt down someone on campus who could help you change the tire. You were now half an hour late to yours and Steve’s dinner reservation, and you fell into your seat with a flurry of apologies.

“I’m so sorry! Class ran late and then my tire was flat, and it was impossible to find someone that would help me. I’m so, so sorry I made you wait this long.” Steve frowned at how worked up you were and he reached forward, taking your hand in his own. You always got so worked up over being late, so apologetic and frantic. Like you were ready for Steve to start a fight over it. Steve could quickly relax you with a gentle touch, voice dropping to a volume where only you could hear him.

“Hey, hey. It’s no big deal. Got a headstart on the breadsticks,” Steve’s voice was teasing yet soothing at the same time. You took a few deep breaths and Steve continued to talk. “Went ahead and ordered Coke for us. You would not believe the day I had.” Steve talked to you about work, judging some of the movie choices of the Family Video customers, and you felt your shoulders slowly relax the more Steve talked. He only stopped when your waitress came by, and after you both ordered, he turned to you. “Guessing your day wasn’t so good either?”

You sighed as you played with your straw. “Classes were good, besides running late. Then my tire being flat really sucked. Could have been worse though. Could have dealt with the patrons of Family Video,” you said and Steve smiled when you started to joke with him. He must have been staring at you longer than he realized, because you startled him when you asked “What is it? Something on my face?”

“Nothin’. Is it a crime to look at my girl?” Steve grinned at you and you rolled your eyes, ignoring how your cheeks burned. You continued to make conversation with Steve until your food arrived, and you enjoyed each other’s presence, the silence comfortable as you ate. You had been dating Steve for about three months now, making it official fairly quickly. Every day with him felt better than the last. Not much had changed in your dynamic after your relationship started, just a lot more kissing and cuddling. It was nice, and so unexpected at the same time. Not like Steve had ever treated you badly a day in your life, but you imagined there’d be some change once the two of you started to date. Yet so far… nothing. “Now who’s the one with a staring problem?” You bit back a remark and instead chose to stick your tongue out at him. “Wow,” Steve drawled, “real mature. You know, I think I see where the kids got their attitudes from.”

“Remind me how many arguments me or Robin have had to break up between you and Dustin, dingus,” Steve leaned forward and flicked your forehead at the nickname and you slapped at his hand. “Asshole.”

“You love me.” Steve smirked, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. You took a sip from your Coke, trying yet failing to hide your own smile as you shrugged.

“Sure do.”

-

“What did you do?” Robin asked as Steve walked into Family Video and Steve looked around before he pointed at himself. “Yes, you. Did you two have a fight or something?” Steve stared at Robin for another few seconds before it clicked.

“No! No, we’re great. Why? Did something happen?” Steve walked behind the counter, adjusting his vest and Robin watched him. When Steve met her eyes, there was a doubtful look in them. “What, Rob?”

“We were supposed to hang out last night. I even swiped The Breakfast Club, it was supposed to be a whole thing. She never showed up and when I called to check on her, she wouldn’t give me a solid answer. Just said something came up and she was sorry. Sounded upset, so I just assumed maybe you two fought.” Robin paused. “But that doesn’t make much sense either. One of you would’ve told me if you had a fight. Plus you two, like, never even argue. Adorable but weird.” Steve had to give it to her there. You two had little disagreements here and there but never anything substantial. And if anything had happened, Steve’s first call would have been to Robin, and he’s almost certain you would’ve called her right after he did.

“I don’t know, mind if I..?” Steve trailed off, nodding towards the phone and Robin nodded. Steve walked over to the phone on the counter and dialed your number. He gnawed at his lip as the phone rang and he frowned when you never picked up. “I’ll drop by tonight,” Steve said as he turned towards Robin.

“Let me know if she’s okay, yeah? It’s not like her to skip out like that.” Steve patted Robin’s shoulder and let out a sigh.

“No, it’s not.”

The rest of Steve’s shift went by agonizingly slow. Once he dropped Robin off at home, he sped to your house, anxiously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. On his way there, he ran into your parents’ car, headed in the opposite direction. Did they do something to upset you? The minutes it took him to park in your driveway felt like hours and Steve jogged up to your door, knocking rapidly. Steve raised his hand to knock again when the door slowly opened. You were hiding behind the door, your face downturned. You looked up at Steve through your lashes and you shied away.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in? Please?” Steve borderline begged and you hesitated. Your name fell from Steve’s lips, and you could practically hear the concern dripping from his voice. You slowly opened the door, still hiding behind it as you let Steve in. You shut the door behind him and you began to walk past him towards the living room. “Hey,” Steve called as he followed you. You sat on the couch and pulled your knees up to your chest, chin resting on your knees and face turned down. Steve knelt down beside you and froze when he saw the bruise on your cheek. “Did he-”

“Don’t, Steve.” You turned away and Steve frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do I have to tell you everything?” Your tone was clipped and Steve was surprised. You had never talked to him like that before.

“Woah, what did I do? No, you don’t have to tell me everything, but if you’re being hurt-” You groaned as you buried your head in your hands. Steve stood up and began to pace the floor. “I could have helped you. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done? It’s done. It’s over with, it’ll be like it never even happened within a week.”

“Has this happened before?” Steve asked and you fell silent. “Why didn’t I know?”

“You didn’t need to.” He didn’t need to? “I can handle myself.”

“You don’t have to, though!” You and Steve both flinched from his raised voice. “You’re my girlfriend, my best friend. You don’t have to hide things from me. We don’t hide things from each other. You can’t just shut me out.” You stood up so quickly it startled Steve and you gestured wildly around you.

“It’s all I know!” Your eyes began to water and Steve couldn’t move. He wanted to reach out, to comfort you, but he didn’t know if you’d want him to touch you like this. You had never raised your voice at each other; it was uncharted territory for the both of you. “I don’t get you, Steve. I don’t get us. All I’ve known is passive aggressiveness. When my parents aren’t fighting, they’re ignoring each other. When I’m not getting bitched at, I’m getting ignored.” You sighed as you sat back down on the couch. “I didn’t know what to expect when we started dating. Because we have been best friends for so long, surely dating couldn’t have been that big of a change. But my parents used to be happy, too. Until I came along.”

Your parents never let you forget it either. They spoke of their dreams to have moved to the big city, your mom’s aspirations for her career, your father finally ready to leave Hawkins. And then your mother found out she was pregnant. And all their dreams went to shit. They had done a good job at hiding it the first few years of your life, hiding their bitterness. Their resentment. As you grew older, it became worse. Ever since you graduated, you were lucky to be ignored, spared from their comments and looks.

“I was scared you’d start to look at me the way they did. So I didn’t tell you about things getting worse. I thought it would be easier, but you saw right through me. You, your friends, the kids. And it’s just… I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it hasn’t.” Steve took a seat beside you and slowly opened his arms to you. You immediately crawled into his arms, head resting on his chest, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Steve said. He pressed a lingering kiss to your head, letting you and him both relax for a moment. “I can’t promise everything will always be perfect. But I can, I am promising that I’ll always do my best for you. Call me crazy, but you’ve been a part of my life this long. Hoping you’ll stay in it even longer.” You gripped Steve’s shirt, your grasp tight as if he would disappear if you let go.

“Love you, Stevie.” You tilted your head up and pressed a kiss to Steve’s jaw and somehow scooted closer to him, practically molded into one person at this point. “Need to apologize to Rob for ditching her last night. Is she mad?”

“Never at you,” Steve said. “She was worried but not mad.” Steve looked outside, the sun just now starting to set. “Why don’t we give her a call?” An hour and a half later, you, Steve, and Robin were walking the fairgrounds. You had decided to make a spontaneous trip to Indianapolis since all three of you had a rare weekend off and with the teens coming over the next day for a cookout, you wanted some time together. Robin stood by your right side, hands laced together as you walked towards a swing ride. Steve walked on your left side, hand on the small of your back as you and Robin argued over which fair food was the best (obviously, funnel cake). You were smiling, laughing at Robin’s dramatics and Steve’s comments when he butted in, and he hadn’t seen you this relaxed in a while.

“Take a picture, Dingus, it’ll last longer.” Robin teased when she caught him staring and you giggled as you leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. You could taste the faintest hint of cotton candy and you leaned in for another before Robin started gagging. “Come on, kiss on your own time. Rides!” You let yourself get dragged away by Robin and Steve jogged to keep up with you, laughing the whole time. He could get used to this.

[macbethsymphony]

Port Wine & Sake | Chapter 3

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

wc: 3.9k

Chapter rating: SFW

Whole fic content/warnings: eventually NSFW and 18+, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, slight alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family dynamics, past trauma

Summary: You were tired of the fucking nuisances freeloading in your brother's castle, but it seemed you had no choice but to endure. A tumultuous romance between Roronoa Zoro and Dracule Mihawk's sister, set throughout the 2 year time skip.

Chapters [1 & 2]

Masterlist

Also on AO3 if you prefer

Chapter 3: You Squirm So Beautifully

“You’re dressed.” Mihawk walked into the dining room, joining you and Perona.

“And you’re wearing a shirt,” you noticed. “Though not quite buttoned up to decency.” 

He inclined his head in acknowledgment of your observation, a faint hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as he took his seat at the table. Perona glanced between the two of you, sensing an unspoken exchange, but wisely chose to stay silent as she slathered jam on the bread you’d freshly baked in the morning.

“I must admit, I expected you to remain impervious to the concept of proper attire,” he remarked casually, opening the papers left beside his plate. Mihawk’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile, a rare expression for the Warlord known for his stoic demeanor. “Although I suppose one must occasionally accommodate social norms, no matter how trivial,” he continued dryly, buttoning one more button of his shirt with a nonchalant gesture.

Perona snickered softly, unable to contain her amusement at the warlord’s begrudging compliance. She cast a mischievous glance towards you, clearly enjoying the banter unfolding before her.

“Are you two really even related?” She asked after letting out a delighted sound at the taste of her breakfast.

Mihawk’s eyes flickered to Perona with a bemused look you were quite certain she wasn’t able to decipher just yet. “Why do you ask, Perona?” He poured himself a cup of coffee.

The girl shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. You two may be the same brand of eccentricity but you don’t look the same at all.” She examined closer, pausing as she observed your features. “Well, maybe a little, your eyes are similar but there’s also the age gap.”

The warlord shifted in his seat almost imperceptibly.

“It’s quite simple Perona.” You started, gaze not leaving your brother’s, sickeningly sweet smile on your lips. A shared conversation to which the specter princess was not privy to. “Same cunt of a father, different gullible mothers.”

Mihawk, ever composed, merely sipped his coffee, his stare flicking to Perona briefly before returning to you. "Blunt as always," he remarked dryly, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips at your jab.

You gave a nonchalant shrug, your eyes still fixed on the warlord. "Truth tends to be," you replied with a smirk of your own.

Perona cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I see. So... breakfast is delicious," she interjected with haste, taking another bite of her buttery bread to fill the awkward silence that followed your revelation.

Mihawk nodded in agreement, setting down his cup with a deliberate motion. "Indeed," he granted, though his eyes still held a glint of amusement. "I see your baking skills have improved."

You accepted the change in topic with a gracious nod, deciding to let the touchy subject off the hook. "Thank you," you replied warmth filling your tone, reaching for the butter to spread on your own slice of bread. You looked back at him, wicked smile on your lips. "I find punching the dough rather therapeutic these days."

Mihawk sighed and Perona mumbled something about you not being cute below her breath.

“How are Zoro’s wounds?” Mihawk changed the subject, pointing the question to Perona.

“How should I know?” She shrieked with annoyance.

“Are you not tending to his wounds?” Brother and sister asked together.

“Tending.” She emphasized the word. “I’m tending his wounds. No idea how they’re going though.”

Her answer elicited a collective sigh. 

“I’ll give them a look later,” you said with a hint of something neither of them could quite decipher, your desire to bother the younger swordsman lost on them. “Where is he anyway?”

It was Perona’s turn to sigh. “Oh I don’t know, probably roaming somewhere,” she rolled her eyes as though she was stating the ridiculously obvious. “Lost in the halls.”

You paused, acknowledging her unfortunately sound answer.

“Would you please be a dear and bring him some food and guide him back to his room once you're done?” 

The sweetness in your tone clearly irked the spectre princess, but still she agreed.

“You’re so not cute, you know that?” She complained, getting up and obeying nonetheless.

—

Roronoa Zoro’s recovery was starting to feel slow and tortuous, not because of his injuries but because of the maddening company he was forced to endure. Perona’s ceaseless prattle and erratic mood swings were a vexing backdrop, though one he managed to tolerate by tuning her out. But your presence was an entirely different torment. 

You, always lurking nearby, appeared to derive profound enjoyment in torturing him. You, with your sharp wit and dismissive demeanor, relentlessly seemed to be able to get under his skin. You, as your sarcasm cut through the air deadlier than any blade he’d ever wielded, constantly chafed at his patience. It seemed to himself as though he was forever oscillating between the need to throttle you and something else he wasn’t entirely sure of. He couldn’t deny the peculiar allure you exuded, the blend of unpredictability and unapologetic audacity that was simultaneously infuriating and strangely captivating, steadily driving him to the brink of desperation. 

As if on cue, the now familiar clicks of your heels resonated against the cold marble floor, each step a deliberate taunt that echoed through Zoro’s mind. He closed his eyes in frustration, knowing all too well the self-satisfied smirk that awaited him upon opening them.

“You’re looking positively miserable today, little swordsman,” your voice floated into the room, sweet satisfaction honeying your words. It made his teeth grind and he wished for an instant that the bed could swallow him whole, if only so he could have a day of peace. You giggled at his silence. “Are you attempting to ignore me?” Your footsteps grew closer, stopping near him. “How adorable.”

For a moment, Zoro debated whether to respond or to maintain the stoic silence that never worked, and which he never failed to try and master in your presence. With a grunt, he pushed himself into a sitting position, bare feet touching the cold marble, the ache from his injuries a dull throbbing that had become almost part of his very being. His gaze met yours, a glint of defiance tempered by the weary resignation of someone accustomed to your antics.

"Ignore you? Like I could," he retorted, his voice edged with a blend of irritation and reluctant admiration. "You make it impossible."

Your laughter tinkled in response, an infuriatingly melodic sound that only fueled his exasperation. As his eyes adapted to the darkness of the room, the soft flicker of the candles casting a dim light, he took you in. There you stood, the very picture of insolence painted on your features, your figure outlined by the faint glow. His breath unwittingly caught. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you outside of that flowing robe and without a bottle of wine in your grasp, but here you were, serious and fully dressed. 

The pair of leather pants you wore left nothing to the imagination and if it wasn’t for the sheer billowy blouse underneath, neither would the tight contraption around your chest. He swallowed, hard, wrenching his eyes back to your face, taking in the smugness on your lips. 

He sneered, a reflexive defense against the unsettling effect you had on him.

Undeterred, you closed the distance between you, standing comfortably between his knees as if you belonged there. His muscles tensed at your proximity, the faint scent of cinnamon and amber plaguing your skin mingling with the candles’ warmth.

"Aren’t you positively irresistible when you're miserable," you teased, your voice a playful taunt that danced on the edge of mockery. Your fingers went to his chin, tilting his face from side to side as though you were examining merchandise, sharp stare lingering on his eyes, his mouth, his earrings.

He bristled under your touch. “You’re fucking insane,” he growled, slapping your hand away.

Your lips curled further, white teeth gleaming in diffuse light. “I prefer theatrical, but thank you.”

He couldn’t help the amused snort that escaped him. Theatrical was a good word for your peculiar brand of insanity. “Wasn’t a compliment,” he added under his breath. 

You hummed a soft, sultry sound that grated on Zoro’s nerves even as it sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine. “Oh, I know,” you replied leaning in close, your breath caressing his lips. Your index gave the tip of his nose a little poke before you quickly retreated back. 

He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the flush rising in his cheeks. Your proximity was unnerving, and the way you so effortlessly invaded his personal space made him feel both vulnerable and fiercely defensive.

“I’m going to need you to strip for me, little swordsman,” you commanded, your tone surprisingly serious.

Zoro's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks deepening into a furious red. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, recoiling from you as though you had suggested something entirely indecent.

“What is it?” you chuckled. “Did some uncouth thought cross your mind? I’m only here to double-check on your wounds.” You waved your hand dismissively. “So get up for me and undress, would you?” 

His glare could have cut through steel. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, without missing a beat. “Now, strip. I don’t have all day.”

Zoro grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but grudgingly he got up and started to lift his shirt. Your eyes followed his movements, sharp as you took in the way he moved, where he strained and where he did not.

“Need any help?” you asked as you noticed the flicker of pain on his features, the faux innocence filling your voice concealing the hint of concern lurking in its depths.

“Not from you,” he snapped, the words coming out more heated than he intended.

You laughed, a genuine sound this time, and stepped back, giving him a semblance of privacy. “Suit yourself, little swordsman, trousers too.”

His hands hesitated at the waistband, the urge to tell you off warring with the need to get this over with. With a deep, steadying breath, he pushed them down, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at his healing wounds.

You watched him with an intensity that made his skin prickle, your eyes tracing the lines of his body with unabashed interest. When he finally stood before you, stripped to his undergarments, he felt more exposed than he ever had on any battlefield.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You approached him, your fingers once again invading his space as you inspected the bandages with an almost clinical detachment, strips of linen hitting the floor as you unwrapped Perona’s work. It was purely professional, he had to remind himself. Yet as your touch drifted along his abdomen, to the wound on his thigh, there was something that lingered behind, subtle electricity that made his pulse quicken and his mind go to places it shouldn’t. 

“You’re healing nicely,” you commented. “It’s scarred well. You’re still bruised but the tissues have healed enough for you to fully bathe again. Thank the gods above.” You gave his thigh a little tap before standing back up. “I’ll tell Mihawk you’ll be ready for training in three days.”

Elation flowed in his veins at the thought of wielding his swords once again. At the thought of getting stronger. “Three days, huh?” He repeated with a smile. 

“Yes, three days,” you said uncharacteristically simply. 

You turned from him, bending down and picking up a pile of black cloth. He unwittingly caught the sway of your hips, his gaze lingering on the curves of your rear, your cinched waist. 

“Here,” You presented him with the bundle. “Since you’re staying, you might as well wear something decent instead of those atrocities.” Your eyes punctuated your statement by looking disgustedly at his clothes still discarded on the stone floor.

“Aren’t you going to rewrap the bandages?” he stared at you confused. 

You chuckled softly at his confusion, your amusement dancing in your gaze. "No need for bandages anymore, little swordsman. You've healed well enough."

Zoro's brows furrowed in skepticism, his fingers hesitating over the pile of black cloth you had handed him. "You sure about that?" he asked gruffly, eyeing you wary expression.

"Trust me," you replied casually, a faint smirk playing on your lips once again. "I know what I'm doing." You started gathering the fallen strips of linen. “Perona tends to be slightly too enthusiastic with the bandages. Though I suspect it is an aesthetic choice.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt at your answer but took the clothing nonetheless, shaking out the fabric and eyeing it with a critical stare. They were unusual, full of strings and eyelets, nothing he’d ever seen before, and also of far better quality than anything that had ever graced his body. 

Your brow raised as Zoro tugged one of the pairs of black leather pants from the pile, inspecting it as though unsure if it were meant for wear or a particularly complex puzzle. The soft leather gleamed in the candlelight, supple yet sturdy, clearly crafted with care and precision.

“What are these?” Zoro muttered, more to himself than to you, as he held up the pants, the strings and eyelets catching the light.

“They’re trousers,” you replied with a hint of amusement, sauntering closer to him. “Put them on.”

“They don’t look like they’ll fit,” he continued to observe, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh please just put them on, they’re infinitely better than those rags you call clothes.” 

He eyed you warily then back at the leather. With a sigh, he bent down and pulled the leather pants up, the material soft and foreign against his skin. 

“See,” he held them up by the waist. “They’re big.”

You let out an amused snort, taking a step forward and getting far too close to him for his liking. “We just need to adjust them.” You dropped to your knees, fingers expertly going to the laces beginning at his ankles and finishing all the way up at his waist. “You see, these ensure that they’ll stay in good shape for much longer than traditionally seamed clothes,” you explained as you gave the strings small quick tugs and deftly traveled up. “They’ll hold up better for the rigorous training you’ll be taking part in soon enough. The laces allow for a better range of movement and added give. So, they won’t rip on you.”

As you reached his thigh you switched sides, giving the other leg the same treatment. He couldn’t help but look down at you with curiosity as you worked. His eyes lingered on the way your breasts were in full display, each of your quick breaths making them rise and strain along the contraption around your chest. He caught the way the flesh of your thighs strained against the leather of your pants. 

You looked up at him through your lashes, a mischievous glint passing your gaze.

“You should be flattered, you know?” You started, giving another pass of tugs along the laces. “I don’t get on my knees for just any man.”

His heart skipped a beat at the crude undertone of your taunt. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was no stranger to carnal desire but still, he wasn’t like the shitty cook. He swallowed hard as you stood up to continue lacing the upper part, his throat bobbing in a painfully obvious way. You deliberately leaned in closer.

He could feel the heat emanating from you, and it was almost suffocating. Your fingers worked the laces up his thighs, your touch lingering a fraction too long and he was thankful for the layer of leather between your skin and his. Every tug, every pull, was a calculated move on your part, meant to elicit a reaction from him. 

He hated that it was working. Hated the way his body responded to your touch, a traitorous warmth spreading through his veins.

Your fingers traveled up, closer to his waist and he let go of the waistband to allow you to work, his hands falling to his side, fists bunching and opening as he struggled to know what to do with them. 

Your eyes flittered along his features before settling on his mouth. He tried to focus on anything but you but the way your tongue momentarily passed your lips and the infuriating smugness that spread on your face as you caught his gaze made it impossible. 

You suddenly gave the laces a tug that was harder than necessary, your hips meeting as his muscles failed to keep his stance. 

"You're too close," he muttered, his voice a low growl that betrayed both irritation and a hint of something he vehemently refused to acknowledge. The pants were starting to feel tight, and he wasn’t certain that it was solely the fault of the laces being cinched.

“Apologies,” you murmured, though your tone suggested anything but. 

You gave the other side the same amount of force, confirming his suspicions that it was entirely purposeful. He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the full impact of your deliberate motion, an unwitting grunt escaping his lips at the surge of sensations that jolted through him. 

Your nail dragged on his bare skin, right above the waistband before hooking along it and giving it an appraising tug. “See,” you whispered, breath hot against his chest, touch sending blood throbbing somewhere it should not. “Fits just like a glove.” You took a few steps back assessing him and he felt overly aware of the heat of your gaze. “Now put on a shirt for me.”

Zoro's eyes narrowed at your command, a mixture of defiance and begrudging acceptance etched into his features. He reluctantly picked up a shirt from the pile of garments, a finely woven piece that felt absurdly luxurious compared to his usual attire. As he pulled it over his head, the fabric slid smoothly against his skin, and he couldn't deny the comfort it offered.

You watched him with a critical eye, a smirk playing on your lips as you took in the sight of the proud swordsman dressed in something far more refined than his habitual garb. The black leather pants clung to him perfectly now, accentuating his muscular build, and the shirt added an air of elegance that was both surprising and oddly fitting.

“Tuck it in for me?” You demanded sweetly with a cock of your head.

He scowled, opening his mouth to complain.

“Or do you want me to do it for you?” you cut him off, eyelashes batting innocently. 

Zoro's scowl deepened, but he said nothing. Instead, he grumbled under his breath and began tucking in the shirt himself, trying to desperately ignore the not-so-innocent thoughts of your fingers on his skin. 

"Happy now?" he complained, straightening and fixing you with a challenging stare.

"Ecstatic," you replied with a teasing smile, your eyes twinkling with satisfaction. "You clean up very, very nicely, little swordsman. You’re simply missing a belt and I believe I shall be content." 

Zoro shot you a glare as he passed the belt you gave in through the loops of the trousers. "You seem awfully pleased with yourself," he remarked dryly, fastening the closure with unnecessary force.

"Well, watching you squirm is always entertaining," you admitted with a playful shrug. "And you do squirm so beautifully."

His cheeks flushed at your statement, though he tried to conceal his embarrassment with a scowl. "I'm not here to entertain you," he grumbled, tugging at the shirt.

"Shame," you sighed a dramatic sigh. "Because you're quite good at it." There was a pause before you continued, your voice suddenly quite genuine. “But, yes, I am awfully pleased with my handiwork. They were a pain to make after all and I am glad they fit you so well.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, the unusual gentleness catching him off guard. He watched silently as you gathered his old clothing from the floor. 

As you turned to leave, he couldn’t help but call after you, his voice softer, almost reluctant. "Why do you do it?”

You paused at the door, glancing back at him with a curious tilt of your head. "Because, Roronoa Zoro, I’m bored and you’re incredibly easy to read."

With that, you left him alone in the dimly lit room, the lingering scent of cinnamon and the echo of your laughter slowly driving him insane. He passed a hand through his unruly locks, a shaky breath escaping his lips.

“Damned woman,” he swore, tone desperate. He was acting no better than a fucking horny teenager. He took a long gulp out of the bottle of wine on the small table next to his bed, a hopeless attempt to change his drifting thoughts.

The rich liquid flowed down his throat. It was fancy. Just like you. Oh, the things he would do for a proper bottle of Sake.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

As you left Zoro’s room, a slight spring in your step and a random tune on your tongue, your eyes caught Mihawk waiting just around the corner. You flashed him a knowing smile; after all, you had suspected he’d been spying on you.

“Brother,” you acknowledged casually, continuing on your way without breaking stride.

Mihawk fell into step beside you, his long strides easily matching your pace. “Don’t stir too much trouble, Sister,” he warned, his tone as flat as ever.

You let out a soft chuckle, fully aware that feigning innocence was futile under the sharp gaze of the Warlord. “Oh please, this place is so dreadfully boring. I can’t let you have all the fun now, can I?”

Mihawk’s stare was piercing as he regarded you with a mixture of amusement and caution. “Don’t get too taken with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at his remark, a smirk playing on your lips. “Is that a warning?”

He didn’t answer directly, but his expression spoke volumes. “Don’t worry, as I’m quite certain you’ll discover, he’s simply so… easy to rile up. It’s delightful entertainment, really.”

His gaze softened as he looked upon you. “I shudder at the thought of being at the end of your boredom.”

“And I shudder at the thought of being at the mercy of yours,” you quickly shot back, a delicate chuckle punctuating your statement. 

Your steps halted in front of your workshop. 

“You always did have a peculiar way of finding entertainment.” He stopped alongside you, your eyes locking as he looked down at you. “Don’t rile him up too much. You should be careful of the wrath of men.”

Your reaction was immediate. Anger flashed in your stare, bitterness twisting your mouth. “Oh I know the wrath of men,” your voice was laced with venom. The warlord flinched, a slight movement that was not lost on you. You breathed in. “But don’t worry,” you relented. “In any case, he’ll be all yours in three days. Is it so bad for me to seek a little entertainment from the company you have forced on me? You did say that being around people my age would do me good.”

His hand settled on your shoulder, a rare apologetic gesture. “You’re right. It was uncalled for on my part. I apologize.” 

He leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your hair. You softened in his hold, the action something he hadn’t done in years. 

“No need to apologize,” you mumbled. “I overreacted.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

[fanbynature]

A post from Dani Howe, who recently left smosh after working in the marketing team

"From Pet to Threat" - This just happened to me AGAIN and after 10+ years in this biz, I’m sick of having to get over it in silence for fear of being blacklisted, or labeled as “difficult to work with” because I chose to be open about my working experience. I won’t go into details, as this isn’t meant to be that kind of post, but I want to share this research because the “Pet to Threat" phenomena keeps happening to me and so many of my peers, particularly over the last few years here in LA. It’s truly an abusive cycle that repeats for far too many people in the workplace, but especially and aggressively for Black women in the entertainment/media industry. So many of us work extremely hard from a place of love, peace and genuine passion for our crafts. We choose to put our prowess out there, hoping that it’ll be reciprocated with that same authenticity by our leadership/mentors/peers, only to be undermined and vehemently devalued in favor of this insistence for power and control at every turn. I’ll never understand the need to prioritize pettiness & ego over doing the right thing for another team member or putting the best, most collaborative work out there for your company. What’s the point of hiring an expert or someone with big potential, just to diminish them? I'm tired of entering spaces I was promised were full of golden potential and stability, only to have to abruptly leave that space a short while later, lest endure unsafe + toxic working dynamics if I choose to brave it. The feelings of shame, guilt and confusion that come after are all too familiar, and yet they never get any easier to deal with. Constantly being in an anxious place of trying to figure out what went wrong and changing my approach, while the world you left couldn’t even be bothered to think twice about you, feels like a losing game. Why even play anymore? I'm only left jobless with no prospects, broke, and burdened with heavy feelings of sadness that I feel really dumb for having. Because it’s just a job, right? And the house always wins.

Some of you might question why even share all of this. Well, I fully believe transparency is one of the best ways to educate and inspire those around you. By sharing this article and a bit about my experience, I hope others feel encouraged to choose themselves and stop letting lazy business practices suppress their potential. I have no idea what’s next for me - this post has probably tanked any chance of me continuing a career in entertainment marketing. But what I do know is that I’m not accepting being overlooked anymore. Not having my true potential nurtured or recognized because the mentors I believed in would rather act out of insecurity than help me thrive is total BS. I deserve better than that, and so do you. I hope today is the day you know your worth."

Im interested in who are they going to blame now. It was once Defy - but now that it's in the hands of the original creators and owners - the same mistakes seem to be popping up. Hmmm

Also if fans start villanizing her the way they did with Boze and Saige - 👊👊👊 i will find you and i will punch u in the fucking face

[foolish-spectre]

The Price of Freedom

Pairing: Astarion x Gender-Neutral Tav/Reader (Primary Focus is on Astarion)

Content Warnings: Murder and Canon-Typical Violence, Allusions to Physical, Emotional, and Verbal Abuse, Mental Breakdowns, Gore?, Massive Spoilers for the Pale Elf Quest in Baldur’s Gate 3, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 835

Characters: Astarion Ancunin (primarily), Cazador Szarr, Tav/Reader, brief mention of Astarion’s siblings

A/N: So I wrote this on a 14 hour plane ride, basically I wrote this in the last hour since my brain was mush for the other 13, I wanted to explore his side of things hence why it’s in second person, and I’m going to give a hot take, I’m glad you can’t hug Astarion after he kills Cazador, not because he doesn’t deserve it of course not, but because I don’t think he would like to be touched after such a painful but cathartic moment, he hates being touched, especially in a moment like this, there’s a time and a place for hugging in Astarion’s mind and in my opinion, this scene ain’t it, KEEP IN MIND I ALSO WANTED TO HUG ASTARION AFTER THIS SCENE SO I DONT BLAME ANYONE, but personally Astarion doesn’t want to be hugged rn, another thing I noticed is how Astarion is always drawn to your hands, it’s always the hands, I want to explore more of that in a separate fic or headcanons but yeah

Your grip upon your master’s knife tightened as you stared down at your “Father.” He likened his sired spawn to be family, and you were ready to give him all his owed dues as the eldest child.

It was funny to see him on his knees after so many years of shoving you beneath his feet. A wicked grin slithered onto your face as you yanked his long black hair aside to bare his neck.

The knife felt so light in your hand, how strange. One last thrust and it would be all over. One last thrust with the same knife that your pathetic master carved that damn infernal script into your back. It tethered your fate to him and now it would finally set you free. He would never hurt you again.

The first plunge felt cathartic yet it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. You started with his neck since it was his bite that doomed you. Then you thrust the blade repeatedly into his heart and ribs, he oh so loved to play with yours and even threatened to rip your’s out so you could see how pathetic it was. Just the thought of it made you dig deeper into his rib cage.

After the frenzied attack upon your master’s chest, you thrust the dagger upwards into his stomach. He was never satisfied with your hunts, always demanding more and more. Even wanting to consume you, practically making you believe that’s all you were. But you weren’t, you would never be-!

Just as you were about to violently flip him over and plunge into his back, you finally looked at his face. The sadistic smirk was wiped off replaced only with fear and disbelief, his sickening voice silenced, his eyes devoid of disgust… you were left with nothing.

Cazador Szarr was dead.

As the adrenaline wore off and you realized that your tormentor was finally dead, you slumped to your knees, dagger falling from your grip.

He was finally gone. He would never be able to hurt you again. And yet…

Why do the scars on your back feel fresh? Why did fear seep into your very bones? Why did you feel so miserable-

As sobs wracked your tired body, your siblings and friends surrounded you, unsure of what to do. Your lover approached you cautiously, not because they were afraid of you but because-

You didn’t really know and even though you’ve spent months together, you were still trying to get a hang of things.

They held out your arms to embrace you and in return you gave them a flinch. You hated the look they had on their face when you did, but… it feels so tainted, so fresh, so…

You hated it, you needed to get out of here, you needed to be in the sun again, you needed… you needed to feel alive again.

You stared down at your master’s corpse and held his staff for the first and last time. The rest was a blur.

Right now you were finally exiting this damn house, you would never have to see it again. You would finally be free, from this prison, from the people who tormented you, and from the crypt that reduced you to nothing but a feral animal.

As your weary feet got closer to closer to the entrance of Cazador’s palace, a part of you wanted to look back. To look back at your master’s dead body to make sure he was dead, gone for good.

… Why did you still think of him as your master, even when he’s gone? He was your master no longer, he would never have to control you again. You’re free of him.

Cazador means nothing to you now and you’ll make sure of that.

As you tried to shake your mind off of this, you walked side by side with your companions and lover. You stared at their face, even now they looked so beautiful.

Sure you didn’t care for them at first, but they were still with you… after all this. It would’ve been so easy to leave him behind for Cazador to consume him but they didn’t. They stayed and fought tooth and nail to save you, to help you achieve freedom.

You didn’t realize that you reached out for their hand until they looked at you, surprised. You were about to pull away until they gave you a gentle squeeze back.

Even though you were empty, even though you felt like the world had ended after all this… it felt reassuring. In a sense, your whole world did end. All those centuries of torment and the master that owned you was finally put to rest. All of it was in the past. Your lover’s hand reminded you that you did the right thing. That… you weren’t tied down to Cazador anymore.

You were finally free. And you didn’t want to lose this, you wouldn’t trade power for the one person who truly cared about you.

[ravencincaide]

A second chance at life 

Summary:  You were done with life, done with being trapped and abused. But it was just your luck that you’d try to take your life on the borders with Port Mafia territory. And that there’d be an executive who had opinions. OR the time you found out that not all Mafia are heartless bastards. 

Pairing: Suicidal reader  x Chuuya Nakahara 

Raven’s Special prompt: “Hi Raven, I'm the same anon that asked for the Chuuya x fem reader where she's abused and runs away, I forgot to add that reader is poc (brown skin).” 

Warnings: Dark content with triggers, proceed at your own risk!

This fic contains: suicidal reader (who’s making an attempt- jumping), hint abusive-manipulative past/family, Cursing & mature language, Chuuya comfort/help, I think I didn’t miss anything.. i hope. Hope this brings you comfort and that you enjoy~

“ Oj don’ even think about it; I ain’t got any fucking wish to waste man-power on cleaning up civil splatter” 

You froze in your spot; your hands automatically re-grasped the safety bar of the rooftop,  keeping you upright and steady on the edge you were just about to leap off of. “ W-What?” you asked as you turned your head to the right, towards the stylish ginger haired man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Instead of trying to talk you down from your suicide attempt however he just proceeded to light himself a cigarette. He took a deep drag of it before he pointed towards the ground below. “ The fucking ledge bottoms out onto Mafia territory. You jump- my men gotta clean that shit up” he answered in the most unbothered tone anyone could master as he took several steps towards you in warning. Something told you that even if you were to let go of the bar, he’d reach you quicker and pull you back to safety than you could accomplish your goal. Then he’d no doubt hound your ass for ignoring him.

You did not have the energy for all that drama. But you didn’t know what to say to him. You were so tired of life; of being a bother. A burden to everyone around you. Not good enough for anyone- in fact it was better if you weren’t around. But were you selfish enough to cause him more work? You glanced back at him; took notice of the dark rings below his eyes. The paleness of his skin made him look almost sickly. A powerful yet exhausted man. “ Sorry” you mumbled as you moved your body into a sitting position in defeated surrender. It seemed you were incapable of even dying right. Silence lingered for a while- you thought he had finished up his cigarette and left. Instead you heard him light another one somewhere above you.

“ So, why aren’t you trying again elsewhere? Packing your shit and getting away from whatever’s driven you up here?” You snapped your head up to face him but he wasn’t looking at you. His body leaned against the railing, his focus onto the city below. An unreadable expression on his face. 

You scoffed at him. “ Please, where the hell would I go? I’m penniless and unlike those pretty white chicks, I won’t get a job overnight. Even as an escort” you didn’t bother saying that your family held onto your payslips with no chance for you to gather even a little bit of savings. You were literally trapped under their control- a puppet to be pushed and pulled at their every beck and call. “ Ehh so you think it’s easier for ‘em?” He sounded doubtful yet curious. “ I know it is,” you answered somberly, “ It took me a year to get the job I have now- had to beg an old classmate for her to recommend me. Still I’m the lowest paid among all my other colleagues with the same title and less experience. And get reminded daily that if I don’t like it, I'm replaceable.” You sighed and rested your head back on top of your knees. “ ‘round here it’s hopeless and I got no money to go elsewhere” In your eyes, you were trapped with no reasonable way out. It left you with suicide as your only option. Your only hope. And even it was stripped away from you, leaving a dull numbness in your body. A defeated surrender to your fate. Silence lingered for a while longer as he finished his cigarette and lit himself another. Clearly not denying your words as if understanding both the said and unsaid implications behind them “ You willing to work hard?” he asked suddenly. You snapped your head up and fixed him with a determined look. “ Harder than anyone you know.” you promised in a heartbeat. You did not care to know what his offer entailed. After all, what did you have to lose? Your enthusiasm amused him. It prompted the man to stretch a gloved hand down towards you. You stared at it for a long while before you finally rested your fingers in it. The leather was cool to the touch, his grip strong as he pulled you up to your feet in a single tug. He shifted his hold and then shook your hand, as though you two had just reached a deal. A mutual agreement. 

“ Well kiddo I got an idea what the Port Mafia’s gonna do with you.” he smirked a boyish grin. An action that should have filled you with dread, but instead, you felt hope. A ray of light amidst the suffocating darkness “ Port Mafia?” you asked instead making him bark out a laugh. “ Damned right. From now on you’re Port Mafia property, and I, Chuuya Nakahara, am your boss”  

Author note:  Sweden is placed in the top four for racial equality IN THE WORLD Still those with non Swedish sounding names get significantly less callbacks for job applications than those with Swedish sounding names. Of those called to interview, how many get rejected because of accent/way of pronouncing words, skin colour or religious expression is something we’ll never know. And the thought of what and how it is in the rest of the world just shows what a cruel, unequal and sad world we live in. Truly it is a heartbreaking reality we exist in. This fic tried to portray that while adding a tiny bit of hope that only Chuuya could gift.. Hope it served its purpose.

Liked this work and want to see more? Check out Raven's masterlist for more stuff to read! ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[diazheartsbuckley]

⚡️❤️‍🔥🖤

Hi anon! ☺️

⚡️ (Post-lightning strike love confession)

Previous snippet here

Eddie’s dry chuckle is followed by a lingering silence, one that fills Eddie’s entire body with dread and he stares at the bottom of his empty bottle, seeing the stained wood underneath.

“What’s your point, Eddie?” Buck says, almost as if he’s annoyed. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s just sick and tired by everyone that his life technically was cut short a few months before his 32nd birthday. Maybe he’s tired of everyone hovering and worrying that he’ll do something stupid to put himself at unnecessary risk. Maybe he’s tired of being treated differently, people looking at him differently. He hasn’t changed. He doesn’t even have a scar or anything to show for it. The only thing that psychically reminds him of what happened is the acting in his sternum and ribs when he makes a wrong move. But he’s fine. Completely and utterly fine.

Eddie shifts in his seat and lifts his gaze, discreetly scanning Buck’s face before he settles for eye contact, a soft yellow light reflecting in Buck’s eyes and Eddie feels himself swooning a little. “I’m just saying, not everyone gets a second chance and-and-and you should be glad that you got it because I…” Eddie pauses himself. Fuck. It’s now or ever. “I’m not done with you yet. I uhm-…I” He stumbles over his words and suddenly can’t keep eye contact with Buck anymore. “Okay, Jesus fucking Christ, this is ridiculous. What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you didn’t die because I’m in love with you and I want you to know that”

Another long silence follows.

Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, Eddie thinks.

Buck leans slightly backwards in his chair, frowning and clearly processing what his best friend has just told him. Finally he opens his mouth but all that comes out is a weak, “what?”

❤️‍🔥 (bratty probie!Buck x newly appointed lieutenant!Eddie) can be found here

Last but definitely not least

🖤 (Lots of religious trauma, meeting before the 118)

TW: Abuse

El Paso, Texas, 2007

Going to a public high school after having gone to a catholic middle and elementary school was a whirlwind of changes for 15 year old Eddie Diaz. But luckily, he’d made friends fast and spent most of his time with one of them, Lucas. Eddie found himself admiring Lucas more often than not, his soft brown curls and dark green eyes, freckles spread across his nose and cheeks, even some on the side of his neck. He was so kind and generous and funny and smart and Eddie definitely had feelings for him that he didn’t know how to put into words.

And he didn’t want to put them into words because every time something about gay people were mentioned anywhere, his father would curse at it and spit, visible disgust on his face. Only problem with this was that Lucas was a very psychical person, he didn’t mind hugs and he didn’t mind cuddling and he didn’t mind touching Eddie during the day, which would send hot flashes throughout his entire body. And a little twinkle in Lucas’ eyes told him that he might feel the same.

Sat on the edge of his own bed, Eddie had been nervously swinging his feet as Lucas was lying on his side, clearly watching him. “Eddie, your father isn’t home. He won’t be home for a while” Lucas pointed out with a cheeky smile and he sat up, his warm thigh resting against his. A nervous breath escaped Eddie’s mouth and as he turns to face Lucas, Lucas leans in and let his soft lips connect with his.

Eddie had kissed a few girls before but it hadn’t really felt like anything. He just felt like he had to perform. It hadn’t given him this swirling feeling that spread in his entire chest, it hadn’t made him smile against their lips and it hadn’t felt so…liberating. When Lucas slowly broke the kiss, Eddie found himself eager for more and soon he almost halfway crawled into Lucas’ lap, arms draped around his waist. He probably also moaned because Lucas’ hands traced the small of his back before settling on his hips.

They had both been so lost in the moment that they hadn’t even realized that Ramon was home, several hours before he was supposed to. The door almost flew off its hinges and Eddie tumbled to the side, almost falling of the bed.

“What are you doing to my son, you fucking maricón? Get the fuck away from him!” Ramon yelled out as he yanked Lucas off the bed and harshly slammed him onto the floor.

“Dad, stop! He didn’t make me do anything!” Eddie tried desperately but the first blow landed and then another before Lucas is yanked back up on his feet and pushed out of the room only to have Ramon leaping at his only son.

“I raised you better than this, Edmundo! This is an abomination!” It started with a slap but it quickly grew into a fully fledged assault. Every time Eddie tried to escape the room, escape his father’s violent acts, he was pulled back into it.

“Please stop!” He sobbed as his father sat on his back, tugging at his arm before pulling him off the ground and after that, Eddie doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t want to know what happened as the sound of a bone being broken filled the room. “I can’t-… Por favor, lo siento, papa. Lo siento mucho, por favor. Please let go of me” His pleas fall on deaf ears as his arm hung weakly by his side.

Make me write ✍️

[bloodywickedlips]

Lessons and scars pt 4

It’s been a full 8 months of dating Spencer and things were tense as I got back to my apartment and huffed as I put my bag down.

Spencer slammed the door and it made me jump, looking over to him I saw a scowl on his face.

“What?” I asked him feeling tired and over worked, needing a much needed rest. No matter how many killers we stopped there seemed to always be two more.

“Nothing I’m just tired” he said and I arched my brow at him but decided not to press any further. We both had dinner in silence and then went to bed. I knew something was on Spencer’s mind but he wasn’t opening up to me and I was not in the mood to fight. Things were tense since Emily left and there were a lot more fights.

The next morning both our phones rang meaning there was a new case. We both got up and Spencer went back to his apartment to shower and then meet at the office.

“What is it this time?” I asked as we all sat around the table each one of us nursing a coffee.

“Right so we have a string of bodies showing up. No limbs no heads just torsos, no way in saying who is who except for having tattoos if they had any” Garcia said and explained the case further.

“Wheels up in 30” Hotch said and we all got our things ready and climbed onto the jet to solve yet another case.

Turns out it was a cult using the body parts for rituals and it took about a week to put together and make the arrests. This time I went to my apartment alone as Spencer needed to clean up his own apartment. Stepping into the door I looked down and saw a small box there and wondered what it was. I walked to the kitchen and used a knife to cut it open and once opening it I cursed to myself. I picked up the letter, leaving the flowers as is.

Once I opened the letter my heart stopped and I went cold “I know about him, Dr Reid will be next” the note read and I picked up the photo in the note seeing it was Spencer and I having coffee, I  dropped it as realization came over me. He was back and was going after the only thing I loved again.

I avoided Spencer’s calls over the next few days saying I had the flu and I was man down. It bought me some time to figure out a plan, but the only one I had was to leave Spencer. I needed to keep him safe by all costs.

Slowly but surely I pulled back from Spencer, less dates and less sleeping over, it caused fights between us but I knew I had to keep him safe, keep him alive.

Currently I was hunched over my desk filling in my reports when the group asked to go for drinks. “Don’t bother asking her, she’s too busy” Spencer answered for me and I huffed at his snarky tone.

“Sorry guys I want an early night for once” I said and everyone groaned and pleaded but I shook my head. “I'm really tired, but you guys have fun” I said and stood up with my bag. “Spence what about you?” JJ asked and Spencer looked at me but I looked down not being able to look him in the eyes.

“No I'm okay” Spencer said and they all gave each other glances and then made their way to the basement where all the cars were.

I was walking to my own car when Spencer grabbed me by the arm “What is going on with you, I never see you outside of work and even then you barely look at me” Spencer hissed at me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Not now Spencer, I'm really tired and want to get home” I said to him but he wasn’t giving up.

“No I want to know what your problem is, are you tired of dating me? Or are you just bored and need to move on to the next one, am I not good enough because I don’t abuse you? Is it that you want that thrill?” Spencer shouted at me and I felt my heart break at his words.

He had no idea that I was keeping him safe but if that is what he wanted to believe then so be it.

“I'm done, were done” I whispered out not daring to look into his eyes.

“Wai- uh what?” Spencer asked me dumbfounded not believing what I just said. “Sorry Spencer, I just cant do this anymore” I said and then climbed into my car and drove home. The moment I shut the door of my apartment I broke down in sobs, feeling my heart break into a thousand pieces.

I made my way to my bed and broke down more, crying for hours on end. After composing myself I sent in an email requesting Hotch to allow me to take 7 days of my leave days that have collected. He had no problem with it and I was left to sulk around alone in my apartment.

On the fourth day there was a knock on my door and when opening it I saw Morgan there with coffee.

“Morgan not now” I said and went to close the door but he stopped me and stepped inside anyway.

“No I'm not leaving until I know what’s going on. You took a week off, Spencer is a mess and looking at you, so are you. Now spill” Morgan said and I felt the tears rise again and broke down. Morgan hugged me to him and let me cry it out.

“Come now, tell me and I can help” he said and I pulled back wiping my eyes. “Spencer and I broke up” I said to him and he gave me a sarcastic look.

“Yes we all noticed, but why sweetness, you guys were so happy?” he asked and I sighed as I turned around and fetched the box, handing it over to him.

“Who is this from?” he asked me and I walked over to the couch and sat down.

“My stalker, the one who killed my parents. He’s never been caught and he’s been dormant for the past 14 years. After Rossi got so close to catching him, he vanished. I thought he was dead, but now he’s back and I can’t put Spencer in danger” I explained to him as he sat next to me.

“Then we all help, we find this guy and put a stop to him” Morgan said but I shook my head at him.

“Morgan please, I don’t want anyone else knowing. Just us, he will go after the team and I cant have that, please” I begged him and saw him nod and pull me into another hug.

“Only if you ever get anything else you tell me” Morgan said and I promised him. “Okay now get dressed, I wanna show you something” he said and I groaned out.

“No none of that, dress in sweats and a tank top” he said and I got up and changed. Morgan drove us to his own gym and I looked at it confused not knowing what he wanted to do.

“Pretend this bag is your stalker” he said and gestured for me to hit the bag, I did so softly and he huffed at me.

“That’s how you gonna punch the person for killing your parents, and taking Spencer away from you? No mama I know you’ve got a meaner punch than that” Morgan said and I got angry. I punched the bag and heard Morgan praise me. I went at it for a while and then started sparing with Morgan in the ring.

“Now anytime you feel like crying or breaking you come here and you do this okay?” he asked me and I nodded understanding him.

Things were tense at work with Spencer not talking to me unless he had to and the rest of the team tried to stay out of it but JJ seemed a bit angry at me and would sometimes snap at me for no reason but this all lead me to go to the gym every day if I could, I started training harder and harder everyday, wanting to be able to take this stalker down if he was in front of me.

It was a few months that this went on, and when I was finished on the treadmill I headed home for a shower, walking past the mirror I saw my reflection and didn’t recognize myself anymore.

Long gone were the love handles I had and the round tummy, all replaced with toned muscles all due to hardly eating and such long training. I did notice the weight loss and had to buy new clothes but I never realized it was this bad. No wonder Garcia and Rossi asked me constantly if I was eating.

After my shower a knock on my door startled me and when opening it I saw Morgan standing there. “We have another case” Morgan said and I told him to give me 5 minutes to grab everything.

Second day into the case we got the profile as a male in his 40’s , taking couples to make up for the one he lost. “Okay so we have what he looks for in a couple, Reid, Olivia you two will go undercover, wearing tracking devices. We’ve established he keeps them around for a week and then disposes of them, so as soon as he grabs you two , we will make the arrest” Hotch said and I shook my head.

“Hotch can’t JJ go instead?” I asked hopeful but the stern look I got meant no. “You fit the female description better, it will be an easy in and out” he said and I nodded while walking over to change clothes to what the unsub looked for.

Spencer and I drove in silence to the club the unsub would be at and per Hotch’s instructions Spencer lead me inside and we both made it to the dance floor. “Spence you have to hold me” I whispered and his eyes snapped to me. “Don’t call me that” he spat out and we both heard a warning from Hotch over the line.

Spencer stepped forward and held me as we danced, trying to look around for the unsub but my head was buzzing with the feeling of Spencer’s hands on my hips.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight” Spencer murmured unapprovingly and it made my heart ache to hear how sad he sounded.

“Guys we have eyes on a possible” Hotch said and I sighed at relief as I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up the pretend and instead tell Spencer everything including how sorry I was.

Then all of the sudden all the lights went off and I tried to reach out for Spencer as voices shouted all around me, everything went blurry as I gripped onto Spencer’s hand and then blacked out.

“Anyone got eyes on them?” Hotch shouted out as the lights came back on but no one could see either Spencer or I. “Garcia where are the trackers?” Hotch asked and Garcia informed them that it was right outside the club in the alley way. The team rushed there and cursed as they stepped into the alley way. Both our clothes were there, along with the trackers.

“Someone tipped him off or he was in the room when we gave the briefing” Rossi said as everyone stood around our clothes trying to figure out which way the unsub took us.

[moon-lv3r]

my blood is on my hands °.*ೃ✧˚.

🦋 category: angst, hurt/comfort

🦋 characters: fugo, giorno, trish, mista, sheila e, mentioned narancia, abbacchio, bucciarati

🦋 summary: in which fugo finally begins to slowly heal and move on from his past, with the help of his surviving comrades. but as he would soon learn, nothing is ever easy. maybe he should just give up?

part 1 - acceptance

part 2 - relapse

part 3 - denial

part 4 - healing

🦋 warnings: mentioned SA, abuse, suicide, suicidal thoughts, self harm

🦋 notes: this is totally not the author trauma dumping, i am going through it again

disagree with my fugo mentally ill hcs? click out then !!!!!

i am an emotional train wreck #timetodieeeeee

Pannacotta Fugo was a boy who grew up without love. What does he know about it? Was he deserving of one?

What was love?

Was it as great as people proclaimed it to be?

How does one enjoy being themselves?

Did he deserve to be loved?

How does one be deserving of such a thing?

How does it come by?

He wondered…

Questions that haunted him as silence slowly drowned him, peace was never granted to him. Every time when he was alone, his mind would wonder, venture into corners he wished never existed.

He felt as though he was being suffocated by an invisible force, made by fragments of his memories… His memories forming into blades, lingering at various parts of his skin, he watched as each blade sliced into his skin, the layers coming apart, warm maroon flowing down, staining the carpets below. He remained expressionless as the scarlet underneath became exposed… a cut so deep that white could be seen. The flesh below the skin showed through, exposing themselves to the surroundings as the stinging pain shot through his entire body. The blades showed his pathetic reflection, the face of a boy who simply could not forget the pain, forget the feeling.

Each drop slowly left his wrist, his life slowly dripping out of him. The smell of the metallic liquid reached into his nose as his eyes tried to remain open. He was so tired. His mind and feelings seemed to haunt him, his own body hated him. He hated his own body too. The new cut confirmed that. He was slowly dying, the blade of his emotions and thoughts had sliced him to the brink of death. Each and every small cut had led to this very final moment…

“Fugo?!” One of Mista’s pistols shouted, happening upon the scene.

Fugo’s eyes bore on a lifeless look, was he in the middle of a breakdown?

Everything was a blur, as the door busted open to reveal both Giorno and Mista, did they have a look of worry? Concern? Or was it anger? He couldn’t remember.

The next thing he knew, he was in a foreign room, laying on a bed he had never seen before… yet he knew where he was. The damn hospital. Of course he was there. His arms all bandaged up… Concerned faces surrounded him…

Who would be the first to visit him? He wondered… Will his parents ever pay him a visit? What did they even look like? He couldn’t remember. It has been a good few years.

“Fugo, you’re awake,” Giorno’s calm voice was the first he had heard. Standing beside him was Guido Mista, his expression one of relief.

“Thank god you’re awake you idiot!” Mista began loudly before realising that foreign eyes seemed to lay upon his figure. “We were so worried,” he whispered.

Fugo’s eyes attempted to adjust itself to the blinding light that emitted from the hospital. “Yeah… I’m… uh alright.”

His body said otherwise. The freshly bandaged up wounds he had painfully gifted himself. The bloodsoaked carpet back home had another story to tell. His mind has another story to tell. His scar ridden body had many, many different tales.

Everything proved otherwise. Why did he lie? What was the point?

“Do you need anything?” Giorno asked, placing a hand on Fugo’s shoulder, his eyes filled with worry. “Just say it and we-”

Fugo moved Giorno’s hand away from his shoulder, his gaze as dead as his mind, his voice as hopeless as one can get. “It’s alright,” was all he managed to say.

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone if he couldn’t get better. He didn’t want to feel like he was just wasting their time, their effort. He was afraid that no amount of help could ever fix him completely. He didn’t care about suffering alone, so long as nobody followed him down the path of destruction.

Was he really worth the effort? Worth it to try? Even if no improvement was to be seen? He was afraid of the future, though he held no certainty of what the future could hold for him. He was afraid of something that might not even happen.

Should he just let go of his fears?

He tried to, he really did. But it seemed to plague his mind, the intention of letting go remained hidden. What was he supposed to do?

He was afraid. What if it doesn’t work? Does he even deserve it? Why…

So many thoughts ran rampant throughout his mind, barely giving him a break. What was he supposed to do?

How does one even know where to start? How to start? How will he even know if it was working?

So, so many things he was wrecking his head over. He might have been a genius when it came to academics, but nobody had ever taught him that emotions needed to be learned and understood too.

All of the undeserving treatments had led to the boy to believe that he was undeserving as well. Maybe that was why it was so hard…

He had spent his days staring at the walls around him, laying down on a foreign mattress, having unfamiliar faces tend to him. One thing was not a stranger to him however.

It was the never ending questions of whether he needed help or was he alright. Everyone asked that, without fail… one way or another, people were bound to ask the same thing. He couldn’t give the answer that they wanted. He didn’t know what to say.

He was just a boy forced to stay alive.

Why was he still alive?

What was he supposed to live for?

He knew he swore to serve Giorno but that can’t be the only thing he does for the rest of his life.

What was his purpose?

The purpose purely made for himself and not about anyone else. Solely made just for Pannacotta Fugo.

What was it? How should he find it?

Why did the thought of finally being content with himself scare him so much? Had he been in misery for so long that he didn’t even have it in him to be happy? What was going on in his mind? He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to figure himself out.

Even while he was discharged, his thoughts left the hospital with him, it followed him everywhere. Not much had changed in the boy. He was still as uncertain as he always had been.

Giorno was the one who drove him back to their accommodation. The ride was silent, with Fugo looking out the window, looking at the scenery that had presented themselves before him, passing by. For some reason, his mind felt oddly at peace, no thoughts ran through as his eyes took in the sight.

It was one of the few moments where Fugo could really enjoy himself. One of the few times his mind was silent, freeing him of the burdens of his life.

Was this what peace felt like?

He’d love to have it.

But did he deserve it?

It was a simple yes or no answer, yet he found himself struggling. He wanted it, but he dreaded it. Being in hell for so long, it almost felt like home to him. Yet he yearned for escape… What did he truly want?

He was so used to the mental torment that living without it sounded strange. The torment was his normal, despite his hatred for it all. Now he has to live without it? Will he manage? It felt wrong, to live without something that kept him company for so long, even though it was the source for all of his agony. He grew up with it, he was familiarised with it, to the point where it almost felt… comforting? To have something stay by your side for so long… To have that one constant thing in his life.

It was something he grew up with…

What if he got better and nobody believed that he was ever struggling because all of it was gone now? Every single trace of his mental scars, gone. The thought made him… want to get worse. To prove that he was indeed a troubled boy. He wanted horrible things to happen to him, maybe then people would believe his struggles.

But he yearned to have peace.

What should he do then?

When both gave his mind hell… shouldn’t he pick one he was already used to? What difference would it make? It would be like reliving the same thing over and over… Wasn’t he already doing that? Being better sounded like such a struggle, he didn’t know what he should do…

What would people want him to do?

What would Bruno Bucciarati help him do?

What would Bruno Bucciarati say to him?

Tell him to face everything? What did Bucciarati do when they first met? What did he say?

“In the end, you only can rely on yourself. Don’t let yourself down, do what you feel, and know is right. If you have to throw away your morales, do it.”

It was not the first thing Bucciarati had ever said to Fugo, but it was one of the first few things that he had said. Fugo wondered, what had Bucciarati gone through to make him say such words?

Fugo always felt as though there were something more behind those words. Like Bucciarati was speaking from experience.

What did Fugo know and feel was right?

Getting better…

But would anyone believe that he had once struggled if he healed? Scars… memories… pain… What if people thought he was making it all up? What if people assumed he lied about everything just because he seemed alright now?

But he also did not want the struggles living in his mind anymore. He was tired. Tired of being a boy ruined by the actions of his family. Tired of being the consequences that the culprits never had to face. Tired of shouldering everything that no young boy should have ever held onto.

Would that leap of faith really be worth it? For him?

Fugo decided to climb out of his window and onto the roof for one night. The stars shone unexpectedly bright that night. A mesmerising sight, one that made the boy temporarily forget his struggles.

“Fugo?” Giorno’s voice came from behind. The younger boy climbed his way up and sat beside Fugo.

“You’re up too…” Fugo responded.

“The night is one of the few times I can ever catch a good break from the mafia work,” Giorno replied. His blonde hair flowed with the night breeze. Fugo had never seen Giorno with his hair down before.

“I see…” Fugo answered. Something in his gut told him that there was more to Giorno’s nightly intentions.

Silence slipped by them, seconds ticking away like nobody’s business. The lack of an exchange felt as though there was only one person up on the roof the entire time. The peace felt oddly comforting, something Fugo hadn’t felt in awhile.

“What’s on your mind?” Giorno asked. “I know something has been weighing on your mind for a while.”

Fugo was stunned. How did Giorno know? How could he tell?

“You seem quieter ever since you left the hospital. Mista might not be as suspicious, but you’re not fooling me,” Giorno continued.

“GioGio, I-” Fugo tried to speak, but words seemed to lose their way to his mouth. His feelings failed to form into words, the unbearable silence lingered.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to say,” Giorno added. “Just, know that you can come to us anytime.”

Giorno left after that, leaving Fugo all alone with his feelings and realisation. What was he supposed to do now?

Suddenly he felt a wave of pressure. Everyone wanted him to be alright. The forced feeling to be alright, not for him, for others. That wasn’t right…. was it? He should want to be better for the sake of himself, not for others. He knew it was not Giorno’s intention to force anything. It was all in Fugo’s head. It was all up there.

He wished Bucciarati was still around, maybe he’d be able to help. He missed his saviour. Sometimes Fugo wondered if things would have turned out differently if he had followed. Would Abbacchio die? Would Narancia have died? He will never know, but he would have to let those things go.

Maybe Fugo just has to take it slow. Little by little. Maybe he’d be fine then, he hoped.

Does he really deserve to be better?

Bucciarati would tell him that yes, he did deserve it. He would encourage Fugo to try. He would tell him that everyone in the group would have his back. He wouldn’t say it lovingly, but rather in a boss like manner, he always does. Fugo looked up to him.

Fugo missed Bucciarati, a little.

Just a little bit…

He was like the father figure that Fugo never had. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t left the gang. So many what ifs haunted him.

Every,

Damn,

Night.

Maybe he should actually start seeking help. He clearly can’t do this alone.

He wasn’t alone either.

Giorno, Mista, Sheila…

Was he going to disappoint more people? Let them down? They all saw something in him, like Bucciarati. They were still alive.

Should he really share this burden that he was carrying on his shoulders? Will they be willing to carry it with him?

They had seen his ugly side, but still, they stayed, wasn’t that telling enough? Wasn’t that the answer that he needed? That they would stay with him?

He already had all of his answers, he just wasn’t making the actions.

He procrastinated long enough, the time has always been in front of him. He just did not want to take it. Why? He was afraid. Of everything. He always had been.

Giorno offered to help Fugo find a therapist, which he gladly accepted. Slowly, Fugo began to talk. It was scary. He refused to say everything, his therapist barely knew anything about him. His therapist had to do her own research into the poor boy, be careful with her words so that she would not end up triggering him. It was a once in a week session. Mista was the one to drive Fugo for every session, he would often start up small, casual chats with the younger boy. It almost felt like the old times…

Just without Narancia.

The lack of Narancia brought a more mature side out of Mista. The usual laughter seemed to have diminished. Fugo never knew how Narancia died, he could only hope that the boy once so full of joy died a painless death, though a part of him knew the chances were low.

The therapist had Fugo going to a psychiatrist for a while, for diagnosis. He came back with borderline personality disorder, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, and other potential ones that remained unconfirmed for the time being. He was not surprised. That explained the way he felt towards Bucciarati, he was Fugo’s ‘favourite person’. He used to idolise him, viewing his opinions as everything. When Giorno joined and Bucciarati seemed to favour the newcomer, Fugo was jealous. Everything changed.

The betrayal was the turning point for Fugo. Everything shattered that very moment. He felt anger, betrayal, sadness. He felt as though Giorno replaced him. He spiralled. Negativity was all he knew at the time. Thoughts of hunting them down and killing them crossed his mind, but he never got round to it. The next thing he knew, he was suicidal and Giorno became the new boss.

The therapist Giorno had found was a Stand user, so she could understand almost everything there was to know. She was the one who told Fugo how his Stand reflected him as a person. How Purple Haze seemed to be close range and violent because Fugo aggressively had his professor beaten up when he violated his personal space. It was Fugo’s need for space, peace. How Purple Haze was so deadly with its poisonous outbursts that could harm Fugo himself because Fugo could not stop himself whenever anger takes over, how his violence spreads to everyone, and inevitably harms himself as well. How his Stand was just like him, Purple Haze wants to protect Fugo but violence was all they knew, which often backfires.

It was knowing all of these that would allow for Fugo to slowly accept his flaws and work on them. To slowly bring himself to a mental space in which he could finally be content with. To finally accept and move on.

Fugo had started taking medication for his various illnesses as well. He was trying. He could see the smile on everyone’s faces as Fugo slowly improved. It made his heart feel warm for some reason, he wondered why.

Trish often came over for dinner whenever she was free. He was never close with her. Things seem to be awkward between them as well. They did not hold any malice towards each other, perhaps it was other reasons that they were not able to befriend each other. But Trish seemed to be glad for Fugo’s improvement as well. At least they were civil with each other.

He saw how Sheila and Trish often exchanged laughter with each other, having their usual girl talk. For some odd reason, he was reminded of Narancia, back when he, Narancia and Mista would often get into trouble. The days when Narancia enjoyed annoying Abbacchio.

They were both gone.

Stones with their names to pay respects.

Fugo missed disrespecting them.

Acceptance was not going to be so easy. Of course not.

Even his therapist reminded him to not let small setbacks hold him back. How he should keep up his good work, because everyone would be proud of him.

One day, Fugo found himself standing in front of Bucciarati’s grave. He did not know why, or how. He was just… there. The name and date made something in him ache. It was his first time visiting ever since any of their deaths. His therapist recommended him to visit whenever he felt ready, because it might help him out.

Tears formed in his eyes as he kneeled down. He did not know why, he just felt like doing so. Everything that he held back, just came out that very moment. The guilt, anger, sadness, frustration… it all rushed out.

He was learning to deal with change, yet he still missed when things remained untouched. He wanted to blame Giorno for everything for the longest time, but Giorno was the one who pulled him out of the void. He felt shame for even wanting to blame what Bucciarati did on Giorno, as if Bucciarati was not a grown man capable of making decisions on his own.

In the end, it was nobody’s fault. Not even Fugo’s.

It took him a while to arrive at that conclusion, but here he was.

Facing Bucciarati, a burden off his shoulders.

Space gave him the answers, and he received peace.

He could only hope for things to remain the same.

Seeing himself happy, it felt strange. But he was slowly coming to terms with it. Slowly letting things come to him. He wondered if Bucciarati would be proud of him. He wondered if Narancia would be happy for him. He wondered if Abbacchio would congratulate him.

It has been almost a year ever since Fugo began his therapy sessions. Everyone could tell that Fugo had finally found himself at a position he was comfortable in.

That was until a familiar face greeted him, shattering every progress the poor boy built for himself.

Fugo was getting some snacks for a horror movie night with Mista. It was when he came face to face with the professor. The very source of his trauma.

“Long time no see,” His twisted smile haunted Fugo.

Fugo wanted to die.

[straykidsreactionsandscenarios]

Stray Kids Scenario - You Have No Right ~ Christopher Bang

Post Date: 1st December Content: Angst/Fluff - Chan x Reader Word Count: 2.1K TW?: Best friends to lovers/ Mentions of a toxic relationship/ Mentions of abuse  Summary: Being in a toxic relationship, you’re always in a constant battle. That is until Chan breaks you out of it, but not in the way you’d expect.

~ Scenario Mobile Masterlist                                     Prompt List If you like my stuff and wanna tip, just buy me a coffee!

Prompts: 45 - “Please don’t cry” 118 - “Is this love?” 140 - “I’m not going to leave your side”

“Where are you going?” Your boyfriend asks you, bitterness on his tongue as you grab your bag, being stopped at the door by him putting his arm out, eyes on you like a hawk as he bites his tongue. 

With a sigh, you pause though you really wanted to push past him and leave him for good. But how could you? You love him, why else would you be in a relationship with him? But you had to admit, the thought of leaving him comes often, more every day. You were tired of being shouted at, controlled, and belittled by the guy. It wasn’t love. It was past that, he was great at the beginning of the relationship but now? You couldn’t even go to sleep without crying to yourself as he scolds you for not even doing his laundry, raising a hand a few times at you. 

Forcing a smile, you look at him, trying to hold back from shouting at him as you don’t want to drop to his level, “I’m going over to the boys’ flat, they’ve invited me over for pizza night. I shouldn’t be too long, I promise.” You hesitate to tell him, hands shaking with pure anxiety, that he would force you to stay home. He didn’t look pleased, to say the least.

“I don’t want you going,” He growls, going to grab your bag but you move quickly enough, out of reach of him. Looking him dead in the eye, you let yourself bite at him, “I’m going over, I haven’t seen them in ages. They���re my best friends, Han and Felix since childhood for goodness sake. You know this”. 

With an ounce of confidence, you push past him, reaching for your keys as you go to walk out of the door, being stopped in your tracks when a hand is placed on your back. “I’m coming, can’t have anyone taking their chances on you,” His tone stayed the same, making you shiver as you smile and nod just to avoid the conflict. He knows they wouldn’t do anything to you, but he would not let you out of his sight, he always has to be with you to make sure that you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t. 

Self-conscious, controlling, and manipulative, that’s what he was, and you couldn’t wait to find a way out when you could. Though the thought of leaving him scared you - wondering what length he would go to make sure you suffer even after cutting him off - you couldn’t cope another moment with him. 

For the entire car ride, his hand’s glued to yours, his hand never leaves yours. If he wasn’t holding your hand, he has an arm around your shoulders or around your waist. Even when you’re walking up to their apartment, being let in. He’s always got his hand on you in some shape or form.

“Hey Y/N, I didn’t know you were going to bring Jake along?” Felix lets you in, smiling at you, and goes to give you a hug but Jake gets in the way, offering to shake his hand. Trying to think on the spot in a panic, you smile at Jake and then at Felix, “I thought it would be a good chance that you guys properly meet him since you haven’t yet”. 

Felix already doesn’t like him, but smiles at him anyway, shaking his reached-out hand and directing you to the living room. There’s an uproar of cheering when the others see you, welcoming you in then there’s silence. Complete silence when Jake also comes into view. Felix instantly breaks the ice, taking a step in front of him to introduce him, rolling his eyes, and telepathically telling them that he doesn’t trust him at all.

“It’s nice to meet you! Y/N has talked so much about you!” Chan offers his hand to Jake, shaking hands with him as his throat burns with distaste, feeling like he’s been kicked in the stomach since you seemingly looked so happy with him. 

Seeing you with Jake, Chan’s hopes of ever being with you crumble apart, his heart breaking into two. Wishing that it was him in the guy's place. Everyone else knew how much he loves you, and would do anything for you, and the fact that Felix already doesn’t approve, it just makes Chan angry, you deserve so much better. Though he has no clue about what’s going on behind closed doors, he can’t help but get an extremely bad vibe from the guy. 

“We’ve ordered pizza, and don’t worry we’ve got your favourite,” Changbin sings as he does a little dance, holding the pizza place menu in his hands, “Why don’t you guys get comfortable?”. 

With that, Jake pulls you to the two-seater, on purpose. Not wanting to let anyone else sit next to you, arm hanging around you as you force a smile, looking at Felix with pleading eyes. That gets broken off by the sudden kiss that Jake places on your lips, trying too quickly to get him to stop as you didn’t feel comfortable with the affection in front of your friends.

Whilst everyone's trying to make conversation, Chan slips into the kitchen to give himself a moment, ready to smash something but is stopped by Changbin who pulls his attention away from his overthinking mind. Changbin puts a gentle hand on his shoulder before tapping it lightly.

“I don’t like him either, okay? But she seems happy, so we have to be happy for her,” Changbin whispers, trying to be discreet about it but the way Felix walks in, shaking his head and sighing harshly, “What’s going on?”.

Felix closes the door behind him and then gets close to his older friends, worry in his eyes. “I’ve known her since childhood, she doesn’t seem right. She’s crying for him on the inside,” He tears up a little, the two pulling him in for a hug as Chan’s fists ball up, rage hitting him completely. 

“Bro, don’t,” Felix pleads as he watches Chan’s face go red with anger, Changbin helps Felix to calm Chan down but that doesn’t last for long when they hear sobbing in the next room. 

Chan’s the first one back in the living room, noticing you’re standing in the hallway out of view, but not unheard, sobbing into your hands, Jake getting all up in your face. Jake raises his voice. “So now you wanna act up? Embarrass yourself in front of your so-called friends?” The hissing in his voice makes you cry even more.

“They’re my friends! You didn’t need to get all stupidly possessive and kiss me every two seconds to show that I’m with you?!” Biting back, you roll your eyes as you knew that there was no point in arguing with him. Trying to walk back into the living room, Jake grabs your arm harshly and you yelp in pain, being caught by the boys who are all standing up, pure anger racing through their veins.

“We’re going home!” Jake tries to order as you go to obey, shaking your head as you go to grab your bag but get stopped by Chan, pulling you into a hug, Changbin, and Minho standing in front of you both.

Noticing how you fall into comfort in Chan’s arms, Jake shakes his head with a psychotic laugh, “Oh, so there was something going on here, huh?”. Changbin goes to get up in his face but Chan stops him, stepping in front as the others keep you in their little circle. 

“No. There was never anything going on here, not until you made it an issue. Now you should leave,” Attempting to stay calm, Chan only gives him one chance, looking back at you to make sure that you’re okay. 

“Or what?” Jake's ego gets to him, daring to take a step closer to you as Chan puts a hand on his chest to stop him, “You don’t want to know. But she’s done with you, you’re done. Ever try come near her again, you will regret it”. 

Jake stands there, glaring down at Chan, reaching his hand out for you but Changbin and Minho stand in his way too. Felix and Han keep you by their side, holding your hand to help calm your nerves down and attend to you to make sure you were okay too.

“Is this love? Is this what you really call love? Treating your girlfriend terribly because you think you’re too perfect to actually treat her like a human being, like the love of your life?” Chan mumbles, directing his comment at Jake who’s seething, fists at ready to take a swing at chan.

“She’s nothing without me, she would never have anything without me. Why do you even care for her?” With his head directed at you, Jake’s eyes are glued on Chan, words also directed to him. 

“I care because she’s everything. She’s everything a man could ever dream for, she’s what I dream for. She’s my everything. If you can’t show her how she’s supposed to be loved...” Chan pauses, looking over at you, wide-eyed as tear stream down your face, stars in his eyes when he looks at you. “Then I’ll show her if she gives me the chance”.

“Now you really should leave,” Minho adds, cracking his knuckles, and giving Jake an evil glare as he’s given no choice but to be forced out of the apartment, leaving you behind. 

As soon as they hear the door slam, Chan rushes over to you, pulling you into a hug as you let all your emotions loose, crying into his chest as he only hugs you tighter. The others gave you the space that you needed, to talk - if you wanted to. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay now, I’m not going to leave your side. I promise,” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head as you slowly pull away. With his sleeve, he gently wipes away your tears, heartbreaking from seeing you so broken like this. 

For a few moments, you sit there without a word being spoken. It was nice to be out from under Jake’s control and you’re able to breathe. Chan’s hands grasp onto yours as you tighten the grip, smiling at him. The moment you looked into Chan’s eyes, you realise how safe you were actually going to be, but you couldn’t shake what he said.

“What was that about? Me giving you the chance to show me how I’m supposed to be loved?” You ask slowly, shuffling closer to him as you lay your head on his shoulder. Chan giggles from nerves, not realizing that you would actually ask him as he panics that you would shoot him down - and rightfully so. But he didn’t want to blow any chance he could’ve had.

“I, uhm. I just wanted him to leave, I could see you weren’t happy with him,” He partially lies through his teeth, looking anywhere but at you. With the soft nudge of your hand on his face to look at you, you caress his cheek, “It’s okay Channie, tell me”.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much, it broke me to see you with him. I wanted to be him, in his place to call you mine,” He stutters but manages to get his sentences out, smiling shyly at you, blushing when a bright smile appears on your face. 

Kissing his cheek, you throw your arms around him, and his arms snake around your waist, pulling you in for a tight hug. Tears start to pool in your eyes again, sniffling on his shoulder, “Hey, please don’t cry,” he whispers softly. 

“Thank you, thank you for saving me. I just wish I could’ve been with you instead of him. But now I need time, but I love you too,” You breathe heavily, trying to stifle your cries. You couldn’t be more grateful for him.

He understands you need time, and he’s more than willing to give it to you. He wants nothing more than for you to find yourself again. But you couldn’t deny, you’d give anything to be shown what love really feels like, what to be treated well feels like.

“Can we move slowly? I don’t want to jump straight into a relationship and ruin it between us?” You ask, and he nods instantly, smiling as he tries his best to hold back cheering for himself. “I want to enjoy this,” You add, laying on him as you already feel like you're at home. Chan’s heart races out of his chest as he peppers your head with kisses, “Anything for you, anything at all”. 

[phantomwritezstuff077]

Family Line - "The Runt" Spinoff

This series does NOT follow the events of "Billy the Kid" and "The Runt", it is a spinoff I was able to come up with thanks to my amazing friend @slutforsnow.

"Family Line" is going to be an original series following Artax's backstory and how he got to Jesse's ranch, following through how Laurie got to Jesse's ranch and eventually meeting Billy and finding a family once Billy reunites with Violet Evans (Alastor's OC).

I hope that I explained this nicely LMAO.

Warnings for the series: Animal abuse, child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, child labor, threats, death, mentions of SA, SA, bllod, guns, angst, murder as a hate crime, child neglect, child abandonment.

Chapter One

Artax’s POV

The story that I’m about to tell you is true, it’s the story about my best friend, her journey alongside mine, and the family that was created.

The first place that I can remember was this place that is now called the plains, and according to my mother, the plains had no beginning and no end, no boundary between the grounds we walked upon and the sky were the eagles flew – she told me that we belonged here, and that we will always belong here.

There were a few young colts and fillies that grew up alongside me. We all had fun together, whether it was chasing each other around, nipping and kicking at each other, or grazing on the sweet buffalo grass or drinking from the cool stream. Most of them were older than I was, but that didn’t matter to me.

I was about one or two years old when something new came upon the land late at night, I was sleeping not too far away from my mother when I heard hoofbeats, I opened my eyes with pricked ears, nickering curiously as I looked around before my eyes landed on the open area a few feet away from me. There was a few seconds of silence before another horse appeared, however this horse was not part of my herd, I didn’t recognize her. And she had a man sitting on her back, holding a rope. 

My mother had told me about man before — she said that we needed to be careful around them, for we do not know if they will leave us or if they will attack us. I didn’t move just yet, trying to assess the situation as more men appeared. There were lots of them, all of them had ropes, some even had guns too. 

And that was when I understood, these men were not here to be friendly. I pinned my ears, rearing up with a loud whinny, alerting the herd of the danger. My herd slowly began to wake up from the commotion, they were all scared and confused until they saw the men a few feet away and they all spooked, immediately bolting off in the opposite direction. I followed them, I was right behind them, I was never really the fastest colt. My mother was a few feet ahead of me, I looked back and saw the men pursuing us. I turned back, digging my hooves into the ground. We were being chased into the valley, but all of us were too scared to realize that.

As I galloped, I saw a man on his horse suddenly appear next to me, I panicked, shrieking and making a sharp turn, cutting myself away from the herd as I sprinted into a smaller area in the valley, not realizing that I was being chased straight into a dead end. I only realized it when it was too late, I skidded to a halt, my nostrils flared as I looked around wildly, I was trapped. I turned around in hopes of getting out before they truly caged me in but it was too late, they were already there. I pinned my ears, rearing up as a rope was thrown, tightening around my neck. I whinnied and began to struggle, trying to thrash my way out of this when another rope was thrown around my neck. I squealed, slowly beginning to exhaust myself as more ropes were thrown around me.

The fighting continued until I reared up again and a rope was thrown around my leg, tripping me as I landed, ultimately causing me to fall onto the hard ground below. I was so tired, trying to get up only to stumble back down as the men surrounded me, pulling on the reins of their horses to keep them in check. My gaze landed on my mother who watched from the entrance to the dead end and she slowly walked over, wanting to help me but I screamed, pinning my ears as I tossed my head, kicking my legs, begging her not to come any closer, instead telling her to turn back and get the herd somewhere face.

My mother stopped moving, she nickered, almost begging me to let her help me as she took another step but she stopped herself, looking at the men that were too focused on me and then back to the herd before looking at me again. The bay mare whinnied helplessly and turned away, nipping at my herd members and getting them to move along and away from the scene. 

I snorted, craning my neck with pinned ears as I stared down a man, the same blonde man that had cut me off from my herd and chased me into this mess. I was scared, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. But all I knew was that tonight was probably going to be the last time I’ll ever get to see my mother and the herd again, but at least they were safe now. But that did not change the fact that I was afraid, and now I was alone, too. 

Alone with horses that I was not familiar with, and I was alone with these men, too.

I just wanted my mother right now...

A/N:

HI YALL.

So, you guys may be slightly confused as to why all my other fics are written in the third person and this one is not, I made this chapter in the first person because I thought it would be a cool idea to give us a look at Artax’s internal monologues when he got captured, but the rest of this spin-off will be written in the third person :)

[rorywritessmut]

So, I am cthulhuandthejellyfish on AO3 and I wanted to share of my fics with you guys on here! I took my most popular one from there and am posting it here! Please enjoy and remember to read the TW!

As a reminder, I write these based off of deeply emotional experiences that happened to me because my therapist said it was good for me. Enjoy my own personal angst.

Song is The Scientist by Coldplay

TW: Abuse, underage sex mentioned not described, manipulation, homophobia

Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry

Izuku couldn’t believe Bakugou was choosing now to do this. He couldn’t believe that Bakugou got drunk enough to try and get back together with him, after all these years.

“Izuku-” Kaachan started.

“Don’t, don’t use my first name Kaachan.” Izuku was struggling to look him in the eyes. Kaachan had cornered him in the alleyway, his face beat red from the alcohol.

“I just want to say sorry,” He reached out and grabbed Izuku’s chin, “look at me, you damn nerd.” Classic Bakugou, he couldn’t stay civil for more than a couple of minutes. Izuku was already tired of this conversation.

Tonight was the UA class reunion and Izuku hadn’t planned on running into Bakugou, at least not like this. He figured that he was going to enjoy the night meeting up with busy friends and look stunning as Shouto’s arm candy. He thought that seeing Bakugou after all these years wouldn’t stir up old memories, but it did. Those same memories sat on his chest and made it hard to breathe, making his eyes water. Worst of all, those memories made him nauseous for all of the bullshit he let Kaachan put him through.

You don’t know how lovely you are, I had to find you, tell you I need you

“Please,” the sob cut through Izuku’s thoughts. “Please just hear me out Midoryia. Please, just let me tell you everything I’ve wanted to say for the past 5 years.” Tears were forming at the corners of Bakugou’s eyes. His form quivered and his palms were smoking.

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Five minutes is all I need.”

“No.” Izuku felt like his throat was caught in his throat. He was torn. Seeing Bakugou so torn up over him made his gut clench with guilt. However, the stronger side of him knew that this was just another form of manipulation.

“Fine. I’ll just talk,” Bakugou retained his cocky attitude, straightening his back.”I’m sorry for not treasuring you in High school. I should have been a better boyfriend than I was. My biggest regret is letting you go.” Bakugou set a gentle hand on Izuku’s cheek, stroking his cheek with a calloused thumb. His molten red eyes were lidded and soft. Seeing that face and being touched liked this set Izuku off.

“Your biggest regret is letting me go” Izuku felt the green electricity crackle with fury around him. He smacked Kaachan’s hand away from him and took a step forward. “You’d think your biggest regret was cheating on me and making me feel like it was my fault.” Izuku took another step forward.

“Izuku-”

“No! Your biggest regret should be the many times you manipulated me and humiliated me. It should be the fact you hid our relationship because you wanted to screw around!” Izuku was screaming now. Tears welled and spilled down his cheeks. Bakugou didn’t get to pretend that every terrible thing in their relationship didn’t happen. After a pregnant silence Bakugou spoke up.

“You think I hid our relationship so I could screw around?” Bakugou’s hands were smoking again. “I hid our relationship because no one knew I was gay!”

“Yet you bragged to everyone that you screwed around with Kirishima.” Izuku narrowed his eyes remembering the heartbroken redhead. He remembered how Kirishima cried to Izuku about how Bakugou screwed him then left him, about how he was nothing more than a failed experiment.

“That’s besides the point!” Bakugou was getting mad now. His spine was rimrod straight and his eyes were narrowed, focused solely on Midoriya.

“It’s not! You were a terrible boyfriend and you could never admit you were wrong. Even now you can’t own up to your mistakes!” Of course, Izuku wouldn’t miss how Bakugou focused on only one part of Izuku’s gripes.

“I just apologized,” Bakugou bit each word and spit them into Izuku’s face.

“You half assed your apology. I’m done here,” Izuku pushed past Bakugou and made way for the door. It was starting to get cold outside anyways.

“We’re not done here, nerd!” Bakugou’s voice faded as the door shut behind Izuku. He figured now would be the time to find Todoroki and get out of here.

No one ever said it would be this hard, Oh, take me back to the start

Izuku didn’t get the chance to find Todoroki before he had to run to the bathroom. He started to vomit every feeling he had into the toilet. Again, and again, and again until there was nothing left but numbness. Memories that were once long forgotten rushed back into his mind. Taunting him with happy and sad memories.

Memories like the times him and Bakugou made love at a young age. The secret the two of them held between each other until the fateful night that Kirishima came to him. The secret that Izuku thought was special between them seemed to be a secret Bakugou shared with everyone. Kirishima had walked in on Bakugou and some girl from class C. It was a shock to Izuku at the time. Yet, he stayed.

Memories like how Bakugou went on dates with women in public. Let them flirt with him in public. All those women who would fawn to Izuku about how amazing of a guy the terror of UA really was. How, one night Izuku slapped Bakugou for flirting with Momo instead of coming into his room like they had planned. How humiliated he felt when he told the class they were dating and Bakugou made fun of him, told he was delusional.

All of the manipulation came to the surface and Izuku began to silently sob. Tears ran down his face in a silent race to his chin. All the times he manipulated Izuku into sex with hate filled words. All of the times he made Izuku feel like shit for getting upset about his female conquests. The blame game every time.

“I can’t be gay and be the number one hero, ‘Zuku.” Bakugou touched Izuku’s face gently and kissed him, keeping Izuku from responding the way he wanted.

Izuku hated that Bakugou’s internalized homophobia rubbed off on him, even after they separated. It took two years after graduation for Todoroki to convince Izuku to date him and another year to convince him to go public. Izuku was scared he’d lose his spot as the number one hero if he was outed to the public but he proved wrong, again. The world loved Izuku no matter who he loved. Todoroki loved Izuku no matter who he was.

Tell you I set you apart

“Izuku,” a smooth voice broke the panic that had begun to set in.

“Sho, I-” His voice cracked and revealed every feeling that had taken hold in his mind.

“No need to tell me. I saw the way Bakugou stormed out of here. I figured it out once I hadn’t seen you after,” There was a pause, “Are you okay?” Todoroki’s voice came out in a whisper. Almost like Izuku would break if he spoke any louder.

“No.” Izuku managed to choke out. He couldn’t believe that Shouto had found him like this. A bumbling mess leaning on a toilet.

“Do you need help getting up? Do you want to go home?” Shouto’s voice was heavy and laced with concern, the love weighed down Izuku’s heart. Did he really deserve this love? Did he deserve to be doted on by the amazing Todoroki Shouto? “Don’t let your head get to you.” He could always read Izuku’s mind.

“I’m not fine, I need help,” Todoroki took that as a sign to melt to lock off the door. “Sho, not like that.” He chuckled as his boyfriend helped him off the floor and out of the bathroom.

“Let’s go home, Izuku”

[klondiketales]

(W.E) Okay, okay, you convinced me otherwise about Nina, indeed, if she really didn't love Rocky, she wouldn't let him come back, wash herself in the bathroom, wash his clothes, and in the end, she would give him away to an orphanage, if she didn’t love him, before that, I thought that she was doing all this because of her sister, they say, this is the only thing left of her, and so on, but as I said, you convinced me otherwise, and  yay, happy (almost) ending Frekaby

So where to start? Probably from the state of Victim!Freckle, as I said, sometimes his brain thinks that he is dead, and he simply disconnects from the world, this can happen at any moment, in any situation, this state comes to Freckle at any time, it is impossible to predict it, signs of this state are: an empty expression in the eyes, and a very tense face, plus, Freckle does not react to anything, neither to calls nor to touches, and it is also impossible to get him out of this state, only he himself must come to his senses, so all Rocky can do is take Freckle aside, be close to him, make sure Freckle doesn't get hurt, and wait for this condition to pass, this condition can last a long time, and it doesn't last long, as I said, this condition is unpredictable, and no matter how many times it happens, Rocky still cannot get used to it, fortunately, over the course of several years, this condition began to appear less frequently, and also, when Freckle comes to his senses, he shakes himself off as if from a dream, and tries to remember what he did a minute ago, and the like, and that’s not all, I haven’t talked about his other problems yet, for example, phantom pains on his body, even the Rapist!Freckle body have never experienced violence (almost, scars from Rocky’s claws on the back of the Rapist!Freckle, but that’s another thing), Victim!Freckle experiences phantom pains on her body from the abuse of the Rapist!Rocky, plus, Freckle sometimes has a headache, more precisely, in the place where the bullet hit, so Freckle periodically suffers from migraines, let's just say these are gifts from his past life and death, something like this

Plus, a little about Freckle himself, as I said, he is no longer an innocent and naive boy, after what happened to him, he is no longer a child, he is already a more adult version of Freckle, smarter, and more careful about everything, let’s say, Victim!Freckle is now less susceptible to malupulations, and does not believe in everything at once, let’s say Freckle learned from his bitter experience, and now he trusts his feelings more than the words of other people, in other words, Freckle has learned to put himself above other people, within reasonable limits, of course, so if Victim!Rocky tries to deceive him (of course, I don’t think that Rocky will try to deceive him, this is a what-if), with the current Victim!Freckle it won’t work, in other words, it’s more mature  and Freckle, who survived a lot of crap, but he still, despite this, remained a good person, and lastly, Freckle became more silent, and this silence is not caused by shyness, or nervousness, rather, it is caused by something like “At the moment, I don’t want to say,” let’s just say that Freckle is tired, that he doesn’t have the strength to be shy, or nervous, something like this, hmm, I’m interested in Victim!Rocky’s reaction to this version of Freckle, on the one hand, this version resembles the old version of Freckle (before  how everything went to hell), but at the same time this is a different Freckle, this is a very bright contrast with the Rapist!Freckle, in general, thanks in advance for the answers

Hi W.E. Yeah I have a lot of strong opinions about Nina lol. I think she’s alright.

Wow, that must be really hard for Freckle, his brain thinking he’s dead and having these “seizures” or “episodes,” I don’t know what they would be called. I think Rocky is smart enough to find the best way to help him when that happens (even if it’s just being patient and waiting for him to come back, then giving hik water and a snack and a little cuddles and naptime—because it must happen more often when Freckle is tired or stressed out, right? 🤔) also I like to imagine Rocky putting things on Freckle’s head while he’s out lol. Kind of like Miss Beans in Rango. I don’t know if you saw that movie but she always freezes at random times as a “defense mechanism,” as she calls it, and one time someone put a bowl of fruit on her head as a joke…that seems like the kind of playful thing Rocky would do. Maybe it would even cheer Freckle up lmao. They’d be able to find the humor in a really sad situation in which they would otherwise feel helpless.

The phantom pains and migraines are a good idea, too. It’s like Victim!Freckle still has to suffer the punishments earned by Rapist!Freckle, even though he (victim) didn’t do anything wrong. ;-;

I’m glad Freckle at the very least was able to learn from his experiences and be more careful, so maybe it won’t happen to him again, at least not as easily. I can definitely see him not talking. Not due to shyness, because at this point he really doesn’t even care about making a good impression or seeming normal in fromt of strangers. At every moment of every day, he just wants to be at home, alone, with Rocky, so they can comfort and reassure each other, and be free of stress, and rest, and heal. I think Rocky would probably love Freckle despite his long silences, and be happy that he’s not that other Freckle. It’s my headcanon that Freckle never talked much, anyway, and only Rapist!Freckle was more of a chatterbox, because he had to continue his delusions by forcing Rocky to participate in them, and because he had to fill the silence when Rocky refused to speak to him out of fear and hatred.