#and i don't like to acknowledge my trauma head on

[invisiblerambler]

Jokes on everyone my therapist was out of town last week and I had to cancel my appointment for this week so you're all getting this in stereo.

motion sickness by phoebe bridgers is trending on tiktok again and it's not like the way I related to that song is new. that relationship happened when I was still a minor and I am thankfully years out from that reality now, but something about the way that song sat in my body today, I genuinely feel physically ill. it's weird to say I feel lucky because I wasn't it was an awful situation, but it could have been worse but also idk it was still bad!

I was thinking about recently the way that my body knew it needed to end before I did. There was a lot of our relationship where I physically could not be near him anymore because my body was telling me no. I attributed it to asthma I had low oxygen levels I was medicated for it. It took me years to realize that the reason I felt faint and sick and awful every time we spent time together is because my body knew what my brain didn't.

I'm sick thinking about it now. I have endless boundless self compassion for that version of myself but it doesn't feel like enough. she is so close to my skin these days. the emotional flashbacks of moving to a completely new place are nothing to fuck around with.

I want to go back and physically remove her. from all of those situations. I want the sick feeling in my stomach to go away.

The beginning of july was hell, and now at the end it feels like I'm right back where I started.

[bunnyboy-juice]

awawawawawawa

[doppelnatur]

i think maybe we should start talking about victims and survivors as an oppressed group even outside of the context of other marginalizations. I'm thinking especially about victims of domestic violence, bullying and sexual abuse but also refugees and victims of natural disasters and other forms of ongoing stress/trauma, I just have less perspective on that and would welcome other perspectives here.

And yes, being part of a marginalized group, a) is in and of itself an ongoing stress, b) makes it more likely for you to become a victim of both interpersonal power imbalances as well as the effects of the global power imbalances as expressed as war and climate catastrophies, etc and c) makes it harder to receive help. I just think seeing those as intersections might be helpful? Conversations about domestic violence and sexual abuse are very commonly framed as conversations about gender and while I do think gender is an important factor in both, it is unhelpful to deny the doubt, downplaying and scrutiny all survivors regardless of gender face.

I think it would be helpful when building support networks to keep in mind the social bias against victims, whether those support networks help people escape a war zone or an abusive home. My impression is that a lot of the same social mechanisms that apply to marginalized groups, also apply to victims and survivors. It's the downplaying of the impact of the violence/disaster, the dehumanization, the speaking about you and not with you, the being robbed of your agency, there being "good" and "bad" victims, the contradictory and impossible standards you are held to, the way you're expected to bare yourself to display yourself and your wounds and be available for questioning...

I don't know maybe this is a useless concept or already really common framing but like I'd like to have a conversation about it?

[elirluna]

why does childhood trauma pop up in your head at the most random times. i want an ad blocker for it

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[bunni-v1]

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part 7

College!Hockey Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Minor Character Death

A/N: Not too much angst in this chapter, i feel like this one is a filler!

Masterpost

----

The parking lot was eerily quiet as Natasha followed Steve’s hurried steps, her heels clicking against the asphalt in contrast to his heavy boots. His shoulders were tense, the kind of tension that spoke of unspoken words and unresolved anger.

“Steve, wait,” she called after him, but he didn’t stop. He reached his truck and yanked open the door, sliding inside with the force of his frustration.

Natasha didn’t hesitate. She opened the passenger door and climbed in beside him, the faint smell of leather and pine greeting her. Steve didn’t acknowledge her, his jaw tight as he shoved the key into the ignition.

The car roared to life, and as the engine settled, a familiar tune began to play—Super Trouper. Steve’s face hardened. Without hesitation, he ejected the CD and tossed it into the backseat, his hand moving with an abruptness that made Natasha blink.

Her eyes followed the arc of the CD case as it landed on the floor, face up. The handwritten title caught her attention: “Stevie’s and Bee’s 80s Mix Tape.”

She frowned, the weight of the situation settling heavier in her chest. “She didn’t deserve that, you know,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but firm.

Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his hands. He grunted, not meeting her gaze. “Yeah, well… she didn’t deserve a lot of things.”

Natasha didn’t push further. She leaned back in her seat, the tension in the cab thick enough to cut. The truck pulled out of the lot, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across Steve’s face as they drove through the city.

The drive to his apartment was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the tires against the pavement. When they arrived, Steve parked haphazardly in his usual spot and climbed out without a word. Natasha followed, her sharp eyes catching the slight sag in his shoulders as he walked to the door.

He unlocked it and held it open for her, a small courtesy that felt like muscle memory rather than intention. Once inside, Steve kicked off his boots and plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing at his face.

Natasha closed the door softly behind her and stood there for a moment, watching him. She had never seen him like this, in the short time she knew him—so visibly weighed down, like the world had finally crushed the unyielding strength he prided himself on.

She moved to the armchair across from him and sat, crossing her legs. “You gonna tell me what that was all about?”

Steve didn’t look at her, his voice muffled through his hands. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re acting like this,” she countered, her tone sharp but not unkind.

He dropped his hands and looked at her, his blue eyes clouded with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or regret. “Nat, I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Natasha’s sharp gaze poured into Steve as she leaned against the wall of his dimly lit apartment, arms crossed, her curiosity barely restrained. Steve sat on the couch, his hands clasped together, staring at the floor as though it could absolve him of the things he’d said earlier. The things you didn’t deserve, the words felt like venom on his tongue, he felt like he was having an allergic reaction to them.

“What did you mean earlier? About a ‘trauma bond’? What was that about?” Natasha said softly but firmly

Steve’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face working against his emotions. He leaned back, scrubbing a hand down his face as he exhaled heavily. “It’s not something I like to talk about.. Its not really my story to tell.”

Natasha didn’t budge, her arms still crossed, her sharp eyes unwavering. “I’m not asking for you. I’m asking for her, so when i go to pick up the pieces you shattered I know what I’m getting into.”

Steve sighed, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His expression was raw, the memories clearly dragging him back to a time he’d tried to bury. “She had an older sister,” he said, his voice low. “Kate. She was… well, she wasn’t the most responsible person. She liked to party, drink, do drugs. But she was still her sister, and back then, Bee would’ve followed her anywhere.”

Natasha tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she waited. Steve hesitated before continuing, his voice thick with despair.

“It was a long time ago,” he began. “We were just kids. Wanda was still a kid. She was picking us up after school…”

----

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the school parking lot as you and Steve shuffled out of the building. Your backpacks felt impossibly heavy, not just with the unfinished homework inside but with the weight of another long day.

Kate stood by her car, leaning casually against the driver’s side door. Her wild dark curls framed her face like a halo, but there was nothing angelic about the sharp edges of her smile. She wore her signature leather jacket, the one that always smelled faintly of cigarettes and rebellion, and waved at the two of you with a bright, almost exaggerated grin.

“Hey, troublemakers!” she called, her voice cutting through the quiet evening air. Her tone was carefree, as always, but something about it felt off.

Steve beamed and picked up his pace, always eager to be around her. You hesitated, your steps faltering as unease curled low in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Her grin was too wide, her stance too loose, like the ground beneath her wasn’t quite steady.

“Katie,” you said cautiously, your voice barely more than a whisper as you approached the car. “Are you… okay?”

Her response came quick, almost too quick. “Of course I am, squirt,” she said, ruffling your hair like she always did. But there was a slur to her words, so faint you wondered if you’d imagined it. Steve didn’t seem to notice; he never did. To him, Kate ‘the great’ was untouchable, the picture of freedom and confidence that neither of you had yet figured out for yourselves.

“Let’s go,” she said, swinging the driver’s door open with a flourish. “I’ve got a couple of stops to make before I drop you two off.”

You froze, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. “A couple of stops?” you repeated, your voice tight.

Steve frowned, looking at you with confusion as he tossed his backpack into the back seat. “What’s the big deal, Bee? We’ll be home soon, and we can start on the poster board then.”

You shook your head, your pulse quickening. “I wanna go now,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to steady it. “Kate, can’t you just take us straight home? We have a lot of work to do.”

She laughed, the sound light and airy, like you’d told a joke she couldn’t get enough of. “Relax, Bumble. I’d never let anything happen to you two. You know that.”

But you didn’t know that. Not anymore. Her words didn’t soothe you; they only made the knot in your stomach tighten. “Please, Kate,” you tried again, softer this time. “Just take us home. You don’t look okay.”

Her grin faltered for the briefest moment, a crack in the mask she wore so well. “Don’t look okay?” she repeated, her tone sharper now, defensive. “What does that even mean? You think I can’t take care of you?”

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, tears stinging your eyes. “I just—”

“Do you trust me?” she cut in, her voice low and serious. Her eyes bore into yours, challenging, daring you to answer.

You hesitated. You wanted to say yes. To tell her that of course, you trusted her, that she’d always been there for you. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when every instinct you had was screaming that something wasn’t right.

“No,” you whispered, the word falling from your lips before you could stop it.

The silence that followed was deafening. Kate’s face fell, her expression unreadable as she stared at you. For a moment, you thought she might actually listen, might see the fear in your eyes and realize you were just trying to protect her, to protect all of you.

But then she laughed again, shaking her head as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Well, that’s too bad, Bumble bee,” she said, her voice forced, the lightness of it ringing hollow. “I guess you’ll just have to learn to loosen up.”

The ride was tense from the moment the engine roared to life. Steve sat in the backseat, chatting nervously to fill the silence, his voice too bright, too eager to smooth over the cracks forming between all of you. You sat rigid in the front, your hands gripping the seatbelt so tightly your knuckles ached. Kate hummed along to the music blasting from the radio, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But you couldn’t shake the unease twisting in your gut.

You opened your mouth to say something, to try one last time to convince her to turn around, but before you could, the light ahead turned red—and she didn’t stop.

The world tilted, time stretching and snapping all at once as the blare of a horn cut through the air. Kate’s laughter rang out, sharp and jarring, just seconds before the impact.

The crash was deafening. Metal crunched and twisted, glass shattered, and the car spun violently, throwing you against the door. Steve screamed from the backseat, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything stilled.

The silence that followed was eerie, broken only by the distant sound of someone shouting and the faint hiss of smoke rising from the crumpled hood. Your head throbbed, your ears ringing as you opened your eyes. The world around you was wrong, tilted and broken, shards of glass glinting in the dim light.

“Kate?” you croaked, your voice weak and trembling as you turned to her. She was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling down her temple, her curls matted and dark. “Katie, wake up.”

Steve groaned from the backseat, his voice muffled and strained. “Bee… are you okay? Is she okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your hands shook as you reached for Kate, your fingers brushing against her shoulder. “Katie,” you whispered again, tears streaming down your face. “Please, wake up.”

She didn’t move.

Panic clawed at your chest, each shallow breath feeling like it wasn’t enough. Kate had always been the strong one, the fearless one. She was supposed to laugh this off, to tell you everything was fine. But now, slumped and still, she looked so small, so fragile.

“Help is coming, it has to be..” Steve said faintly, but his voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.

You couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t stop willing her to wake up. But deep down, you already knew the truth.

She wasn’t going to wake up. Not this time.

She never would again.

---

Steve’s voice pulled Natasha back to the present. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of his words heavy between them. “She blamed herself,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. He paused, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically ground himself. “It was never her fault, Kate, she ran that red light. But when she asked her… asked Bee if she trusted her, and Bee said no…” His voice cracked, and he stopped to swallow hard, his throat bobbing as he fought to stay composed. “And then—”

He trailed off, unable to finish. The memory clearly hung in the air between them like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating.

Natasha’s expression softened, her sharp features melting into something warmer as the pieces began to fall into place. “That’s why you’re so protective of her,” she said gently, her voice a quiet acknowledgment rather than a question.

Steve nodded stiffly, his jaw tight. “She doesn’t just carry her grief,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “She carries mine too. She thinks about it all the time—what if she’d sat on the other side of the back seat? What if she’d argued harder? I know she does, because… because I think about it too.”

He hesitated, his hand flexing into a fist before relaxing. “That accident…” He exhaled shakily, his eyes darting to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look Natasha in the eye. “It changed everything for me. As much as I hate saying this, it gave me a new outlook on life. I realized how fragile everything is, how quickly it can all be gone. And I promised myself I wouldn’t waste time—not with people, not with anything.” He paused again, his voice quieter now. “But Y/N? She hasn’t been the same since. And she has every right not to be.”

His hand trembled as he wiped at a tear that escaped, his words coming faster, almost frantic. “But for those couple of weeks she spent with him… with Bucky… That weekend of the party, I saw her glow like I haven’t seen in so damn long.” His voice cracked again, raw with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “And Bucky? He did that for her. In such a short time, he made her feel… alive again, in a way I’ve been trying to do for years. And now he’s just another person who’s let her down.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, his hand dragging down his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. “And now I’m another person who’s let her down too.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his face again. “I can’t believe I just left her there. In the hallway. She looked so—god, I didn’t even wait for her. I didn’t walk her home. What the fuck is wrong with me?” His voice broke entirely at the end, the guilt weighing down every syllable.

Natasha watched him for a long moment, her sharp gaze softening as she leaned forward slightly. “Steve,” she began, her voice steady but not unkind. “You know she’s stronger than you give her credit for, right?”

Steve didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, his hands limp at his sides, as though the guilt and fear had wrapped themselves around him, sinking into his skin and bones until there was no room for anything else.

“Steve,” Natasha pressed gently, leaning closer. “You’re not perfect. You’re human. And Y/N? She knows that. She might not say it, but she does. But you can’t keep beating yourself up for every step you miss. You care about her—you wouldn’t feel this way if you didn’t. And she knows that too.”

Steve finally looked up at her, his eyes red and brimmed with tears. He didn’t say anything, but the silent acknowledgment in his gaze spoke volumes. Natasha held his gaze for a moment longer, giving him a small, reassuring nod before leaning back, her own thoughts heavy as the weight of the room settled over them both.

----

You walked out of the arena, the heavy door swinging shut behind you with a dull clang. The night was cold, the air biting against your cheeks as you stepped into the nearly empty parking lot. Your chest felt hollow, after the very one sided conversation with Steve, and all the emotion from your talk with Bucky had drained the last bit of strength you had.

The conversation had been raw—too raw. He had apologized, stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself, trying to make things right. You’d wanted to forgive him, to reach out and let him in,, but the hurt was too fresh, the wounds still too deep, you felt too pathetic. You wanted to give yourself the benefit of the doubt but a little voice in your head that sounded an awful lot like Kate was telling you to stand your ground and grow a pair, so you did the best with what you had and left him in the hallway.

Now, as you stepped into the cool night air, the parking lot stretched out before you, dimly lit by a handful of flickering streetlights. A knot tightened in your chest as you scanned the rows of parked cars, your heart sinking as you remembered the obvious: Steve had been your ride.

You were alone.

The reality hit you like a wave, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, your backpack feeling heavier than ever as you looked down the road that led back to your dorm. It wasn’t far—maybe a twenty-minute walk—but the thought of walking alone in the dark, with nothing but your thoughts and the eerie silence of the night, made your stomach churn.

You stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do. Your phone was in your pocket, but the idea of calling someone—anyone—felt impossible. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to explain.

The tears started before you could stop them, hot and unrelenting as they spilled down your cheeks. You swiped at them furiously, embarrassed even though no one was around to see. But the more you tried to hold it together, the harder it became.

You let out a shaky breath, your chest tightening as the weight of everything—Steve, Bucky, the past, the present, the crushing loneliness—pressed down on you all at once. The parking lot blurred through your tears, and you stood there, helpless and trembling, wishing you could just disappear into the night.

For a moment, you considered just sitting down right there on the pavement, letting the cold seep into your skin and waiting until you felt strong enough to move. But you shook the thought away, swallowing the sob that threatened to break free.

You glanced over your shoulder, half-hoping Steve might come rushing to find you, to tell you he hadn’t forgotten, or maybe Bucky would walk out and offer to walk you back, or give you a ride because that truck had to be his right? But the arena doors stayed closed, and the only sound was the faint hum of the streetlights above.

Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, you took a shaky step toward the road. Your legs felt like lead, your breath hitching as another wave of tears welled up.

The thought of calling Bucky crossed your mind briefly, but you pushed it away just as quickly. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. Not now.

So you walked. The night was quiet, the occasional car passing by, its headlights momentarily illuminating your tear-streaked face. You kept your head down, the cool breeze stinging your cheeks as you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

But the darkness stretched on, and with every step, the ache in your chest grew. By the time you reached the halfway point, the sob you’d been holding back finally broke free, and you stopped, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, crying in the middle of the empty sidewalk. But in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just you and the crushing weight of everything you couldn’t seem to escape.

Your shoulders shook as sobs escaped your throat, your hands gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. All the emotions you’d been suppressing—fear, anger, hurt—came rushing to the surface, and you couldn’t stop it anymore.

---

The chapel was suffocating in its silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel shallow. You sat rigid in the front row, fingers digging into the edges of the wooden pew as if letting go would send you spiraling. The pastor’s voice floated in and out of focus, reciting words about Kate’s kindness, her laughter, her unwavering spirit. Each word felt like a knife, twisting in the hollow ache that had settled deep within you.

Beside you, Steve’s hand rested firmly on your shoulder. He hadn’t let go since the service began, like he knew you might crumble if he did. His grip wasn’t just steady—it was grounding, the only thing tethering you to the here and now.

When the service ended and the soft shuffle of footsteps began to fade, you stayed rooted in your seat. The thought of standing, of moving, of stepping into a world where Kate no longer existed—it felt impossible. Steve stayed with you, silent and still, his presence an unspoken reassurance.

It wasn’t until the room had emptied, leaving only the faint scent of lilies and the echo of hushed voices, that Steve finally turned to you. His voice was soft, careful, as if speaking too loudly might break you. “Bee,” he said, hearing him finally speak made it all seem real the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and unstoppable.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “It doesn’t feel real. She was—she was just here. Laughing. Yelling at me for forgetting to unplug her straightner or—God, I don’t even remember what. And now…” Your voice broke entirely, and you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body.

Steve didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the unbearable grief. “I know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with his own sorrow. “I know, Bee. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket, desperate for something solid. “What if I’d said yes when she asked if I trusted her?” you choked out, the guilt spilling from you like a flood. “Maybe she wouldn’t have felt like she had to prove herself. Maybe she wouldn’t have—”

“Stop.” Steve’s voice was gentle but firm as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes, glassy with unshed tears, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. And Kate wouldn’t want you to carry this. She loved you, Bee.”

His words didn’t erase the guilt; they couldn’t. But they softened the edges, just enough to let you breathe again.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “How do I keep going without her? She was—she was everything, Stevie. She held everything together.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, his own grief flashing across his face before he buried it for your sake. “And you were everything to her,” he said firmly. “She loved you more than anything.” He paused, his hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. “And I love you too, Bee. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Thank you..” you whispered, your voice raw and trembling. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His expression softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me. Best friends for life. No matter what.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the raw edges of your pain. For the first time that day, you allowed yourself to believe it. Steve had always been your constant, your rock, and in that moment, his promise felt like the only solid thing in a world that had been turned upside down.

You managed a small, watery smile, your voice barely audible. “Best friends for life”

Steve grinned, though his own eyes were misty. “Till the end of the line.”

Your heart clenched, but you nodded, gripping his hand as tightly as you could. “Till the end of the line.”

[k-ru-h]

i know i said earlier that my interpretation of curly as a victim of jimmy's manipulation as well wasnt necessarily implied in canon but im gonna double down and say it is. ESPECIALLY with the how fish is made dlc.

curly doesn't only enable jimmys behavior towards anya - he enables jimmys behavior tomwards himself. we know jimmy doesn't fulfill his duties to standard, we know curly was putting up with his shit since day one on the tulpar. curly was the only one implied to also be trained as a pilot, meaning that he took on significantly more work rather than confronting jimmy. he let every awful comment jimmy made towards him slide - he let jimmy put him down and villainise his desire to be happier in life. like, its fucking crazy to get mad at your friend for wanting to change his career to be happier? especially on his birthday?

this isnt to say any of that is as bad as literally being raped like anya was, but what little we know of jimmys and curlys dynamic is that jimmy was bitter and spiteful and would take it out on curly, blaming curly for wanting better for himself. curly never pushes back, implying he's accepted this dynamic - he's accepted jimmys tendency to do awful things and then take no blame (no responsibility) as a quirk, as something entirely acceptable.

if you've ever deeply cared for your abuser, chances are you know that desire to view them as innocent. everything harmful they do to you is fine, and thus everything harmful they do to ofhers has to be fine, because you just cannot reconcile these two ideas in your head. they cant be innocent if theyre harming others, and if theyre harming others, what are they doing to you? curly doesn't behave like an enabler, he behaves like a victim. the men who support rapists everybody labels curly as would push back at their friends actions towards themselves. curly never does this.

as curly is effectively unable to communicate after his injury, we dont get his point of view after being directly violated and forced to acknowledge jimmys abuse within the game itself. the game paints very clear parallels between anya and curly - both pregnancy (especially as a result of rape) and disability (especially as a result of violence) result in a loss of autonomy, unwanted and uncontrollable changes to ones body and in this case- the perpetrator getting away with it. like, the way jimmy twists the tale to make curly out as the bad guy is purposefully reminiscent of men who blame women for "asking for it" when accused of rape. curly caused the accident - jimmy is just an innocent victim of his.

in the last one and then another, curly regrets ever joining the pony express. his thought process sounds a lot like that of an abuse victim (because he and everybody working under pony express is a victim of their abuse, of course): "We're defined by our past, but not slaves to it. We said tomorrow will be different. Today would be the last day. The last one. The last one and then another. And another, and another, and another... " its the cycle of forgiving your abuser because you believe they can change, because you believe you can change and break the pattern, and pushing through day by day, never giving up on them. even if curly wasnt abused by jimmy and jimmy was "just" toxic towards him, its clear he has this pattern of thought deeply engraved in him. we don't know everything jimmy did to him, we barely know of what he did aboard the tulpar, but at the VERY LEAST he exploited curlys trauma for his own benefit. it could be argued curly shouldnt have passed the psych eval, but neither should have jimmy.

lastly, anya and curly clearly serve as parallels in the game. anya is an incredibly capable doctor, she wasnt unable to give him medicine because of disgust - she bandaged him herself, thats far more dirty work. she related to him too much. she saw herself in him - somebody who lost their body and their voice. even without knowing the same man did this to both of them. theyre both victims of abuse, of violation, of a man who could never take responsibility, of a sistem that allowed all of this in the first place. curly shouldnt have enabled jimmy, but curly shouldnt have had anything to enable in the first place. jimmy shouldn't have raped anya, he shouldnt have crashed the ship. pony express shouldnt have abused its workers. whichever regime holds power over it shouldnt have allowed it to happen in the first place. you can acknowledge somebody made a mistake, and yet understand they were abused too. jimmy was exploited by the capitalist society he lived in. if he had access to mental health services, he couldve gotten better. everybody in this game is a victim of circumstance, but jimmy hurt people nonetheless. curly hurt anya nonetheless.

anyways im going to set everybody who says curly "deserved it" on fire to prove their point.

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny: First official chapter

The busy hospital was on its last leg. Nurses and interns were scattered, running around like mice.

Sounds of trauma care patients and emergency care patients alarms were constantly ringing.

In the midst of it all, one calm collected doctor cared tenderly for each patient.

He, was Danny Fenton, who used to be known for having two crazy ghost enthusiasts for parents. He still loved his parents despite how hard it was growing up as half ghost.

Jazz had told them a long time ago and they had ignored it for the most part. Like that side of him didn't exist.

It had hurt at the time but Danny had managed to move past it. After successfully securing his position as ghost king (on accident) he put his newfound authority to good use making the ghosts swear a vow to behave.

A ghost vow is a big deal, which is why Danny swore a vow in return acknowledging them, if ever a ghost were in danger he would help them.

After the lack of ghost attacks Danny found he had next to nothing to do. His only hobby outside of playing video games had been ghost fighting. He hadn't realized how used to it he had gotten.

Danny hadn't even picked the college he wanted to go to yet.

Danny approached the Nasty Burger, his last refuge.

That's when he noticed a man who seemed a little out of it. The man stumbled making Danny wonder if he was drunk.

Danny turned to go inside when the man collapsed. Danny rushed over to the man and rolled him on his back. He checked for a pulse but couldn't find one.

Of course he wasn't exactly medically trained.

Danny dialed nine-one-one and started to perform CPR as best he could.

He explained to the operator clearly the situation and the ambulance came in no time.

Later that night Danny was processing the events in his head and instead of feeling scared or nervous he felt excited.

He was thrilled to have something to get his blood pumping again. Which is why he applied for med school. He studied hard, using all the time he had to memorize all the medical information that he could.

After graduation he interned at Amity Parks local hospital before moving up his position to resident.

Only a week after getting his new position he was forced to leave the hospital. It was closing because of a lack of funding.

"Please sir! What about the staff or the patients?"

The head of the medical board shook his head.

"Dr. Fenton, this hospital runs on little to nothing to begin with, we are lucky to have even made it this far. The patients will be transfered and the staff, relocated"

Danny furrowed his brows in concern.

"Don't worry Dr. Fenton, your quite literally the best we've seen walk these halls, your sure to get a good recommendation"

Danny clenched his fist.

"What are my options?" He asked.

The board looked at his sheet, flipping several until he found the right one on his clipboard.

"You said you wanted to work at a busy hospital right?"

Danny nodded yes.

"There aren't too many around here, the busiest hospital I can think of belongs to a crime ridden city a bit far  from here." He said.

"Gotham City"

Danny's breath hitched. He had heard about Gotham before. It was notorious for its villains.

Despite that, it was alluring.

"There! Send me to Gothams hospital!" He said suddenly and eagerly.

"Okay, if you say so. Do us all a favor and survive alright"

Danny laughed, "sure, I'll do my best. No promises though"

Just like that Danny packed up moved to Gotham.

He had little time to research Gotham before hand but he had heard several mutters in passing of a place called Crime Alley, a strange nickname for sure.

Danny was sure that this place would either be completely clean due to police intervention or incredibly overrun.

Danny signed a lease at the Shirley Apartments.

"Are you sure about this young man" the desk lady asked him.

He smiled kindly.

"Yes I am, I've heard the rumors and have weighed the risk. In the end it might be helpful to know just how my patients love to receive the injuries they do"

The lady sighed.

"That's right, you said your a doctor. Be careful out there, any talent in Gotham is either warped by a villain or destroyed"

Danny was a little startled by the warning, apparently there was even more to Gotham than he knew.

"I'm sorry I forgot to ask for your name"

"Didn't give one, in Gotham it's best to remain anonymous"

Danny blinked a little surprised.

"It's that dangerous, well I'll take your word for it then, thank you miss" he said as he took the key from her.

He had been able to store the old car his dad had given to him in a locked garage. He wasn't sure how well it would hold up but there was only so much he could do against humans.

Ghost powers had little, of any, effect on humans when it came to offense. Defensively they were pretty great to have.

He had only brought five boxes with him, no furniture. Back in Amity he had been busy studying and had brushed aside buying furniture.

Unfortunately that meant he had no bed.

Danny was glad to have found a beaten up wardrobe. It was missing it's doors and was leaning to the side, even so Danny was able to fix it and hang his clothes up in it.

He grabbed one of the boxes and smiled warmly when he saw a Fenton Emergency pack inside.

His mom must've stuffed it there when he was looking, lucky for him it had a sleeping bag.

An air mattress would've been nice too, but it's the thought that counts.

Danny safely stored his two favorite pictures. One of him with his family and one with his friends.

They were hidden just in case someone decided to break in, not that there would be much to find anyway but it never hurt to be careful.

Danny went to sleep soon after despite the sounds of the city.

Danny woke up feeling refreshed. He grabbed his bags and hopped in his car.

Danny hadn't realized how busy Gothams hospital actually was. Danny pulled into Gotham General and as soon as he was in his scrubs and coat he was dragged into the frey.

"We need a doctor over here!" Someone called just as Danny had finished with a patient.

Despite having to run around all day Danny wasn't tired, his ghost half supplied him energy after his human side ran dry.

All in all Danny first day on the job was hectic and he had worked for fourteen hours.

Once he was back in his apartment Danny set up a table that he had pre ordered online.

Then he got to work. According to his knowledge, most of his patients had suffered from some kind of attack or other.

Most of the heavy hitters were villains named Joker, Penguin and two face.

The riddler was taken care of, Poison Ivy had been rehabilitated and Harley Quinn had broken free from Jokers choke hold on her.

There was also the less obvious villains, like the business man lex Luther.

Lex Luther was shady at best, while no one could get hard evidence on him most people knew to be wary.

But just being informed didn't stop them from falling into his traps.

Lately Bruce had done official business with Lex Luther, which made him a suspicious person whom Danny had decided to keep tabs on, he was wary of the rich and for good reasons.

The cork board above Danny table has a litter of documents and pictured pined by red string. The players who were out of the game were crossed off.

Then there were the vigilantes. A few of them had been known to be rough, a necessary violence.

Still they seemed to have little awareness of what their little battles did to other people. Because many people came in for minor injuries due to being caught in the crossfire.

Which meant Danny had to find a way to keep everybody in line so patients would decrease in number. Danny let himself sleep for four hours before returning to the hospital.

"Oh my gosh, Doctor Fenton is still here" one nurse whispered. It had been a full day and half, Danny was running on his ghost half that seemed to keep replenishing itself due to the toxic air of Gotham. A positive side effect.

"How does he never get tired?"

"Maybe he's superhuman" one girl cracked. They noticed as he rushed by them to get to another patient.

"He's quite handsome too" one said wistfully, "but who wants a husband that works all the time"

Danny noticed the next patient seemed tense and he kept screaming for his daughter.

Danny whispered in the man's ear and put a hand on his forehead. He had used a ghost technique he learned from Nocturne and the man calmed down.

The other doctors were impressed as they worked to care for the man's injuries.

Finally the head of the unit noticed Danny and after reviewing his chart had forced him to go home.

"I don't feel fatigued at all sir, I promise I am not compromised. I can care for the patients"

The head wasn't having any of it.

"Above all your health is just as important as the patients we care for. For them to get healthy, you have to be healthy. Go home Dr.Fenton, you can come back after you get at least ten hours of sleep."

Danny wanted to argue but he knew the head was right.

"Yes sir" he said before changing into civilian clothes and leaving the hospital.

Now that he was out of a hospital setting things like hunger started to appear.

Maybe he had been to focused to notice how hungry he had been.

Danny blearily noticed a fast food place. His instincts told him the food would be greasy and way too unhealthy.

Mmm, comfort food.

The nostalgia fought with his doctoral instincts and won. All Danny wanted was to sit in a booth and eat some greasy food.

Danny ordered the double cheeseburger with bacon with a side of ten pieces chicken nuggets and large order of fries.

Waiting, even for five minutes, was starting to make Danny ravenous. As soon as he got his food he sat down and started gorging himself.

It was pretty good food for a little fast food place in the world's worst city.

Danny liked the tenderness and crispiness of the burger, the cheese was melted just right too.

Danny dipped his nuggets in sweet n' sour sauce while fighting the urge to kick his legs like a happy little kid.

As Danny left the restraint he saw an alert on his phone for a villain attack and rushed to the scene.

To his satisfaction the culprits were already being hauled away in police custody. They were just small fries, not of them appeared connected to a big player, so Danny was free to shut them out of his mind.

Which is exactly what he did. Danny drove back to his apartment and let out a sigh of relief.

That's when he noticed his door was slightly ajar.

His guard was up immediately. Danny stepped inside cautiously. He was relieved when everything appeared untouched but the scare had sent him a trip to get stronger locks.

On his way back to his car from the store he heard sound of a glass bottle breaking in a nearby alley. It was small alley, from what Danny could tell it was also a dead end alley.

Taking a risk Danny stepped in and chills went down his spine when he heard labored breathing.

Danny rushed over and froze at what he saw.

[theprettynosferatu]

Before the year is done there's something I want to say. This is not porn so feel free to scroll on, but it might help some people.

YOUR FANTASIES DO NOT REFLECT ON YOUR REAL BELIEFS.

You might have a particularly shameful kink or fantasy that sometimes gives you that slap of guilt in the face when you least expect it. I know I do!

When that happens, run a simple test:

- Did you harm anyone by having that fantasy and engaging with it? No? Awesome!

- Did you share it with someone who is safe, if at all?

- If you played, was it consensual, safe, and adult?

If so... you have my permission to dodge guilt!

Let's be frank. Some degree of drop, sub, dom or otherwise is to be expected. Call it the toll on the road between fantasy and reality. Acknowledge it's there, and pay it no mind. You might feel a bit iffy for a little while, but if you focus on something else it will go away. Think of it as cloudy weather. It kinda sucks but you don't stop your life for it!

Now, about your shameful, shameful fantasies: that which is taboo is attractive. Getting turned on by something you know you shouldn't do/be in real life is... completely normal. In fact, that it turned you on might be a good sign. You found it hot because you KNOW it's wrong. You have a moral compass there, friend. Trust me, some... don't. And that compass is what will keep you from doing harm.

Sometimes you'll feel sort of... exposed. Like people will be able to tell you get down to all that evil freaky stuff by looking at you. To which I tell you... HOW? Telepathy? Is Professor X around? Not only no one will know, you deserve an area of intimacy and privacy. And your head is that space. There is no celestial daddy to spank you for your sinful thoughts.

And if there is... that's kinda hot too.

And EVEN IF SOMEHOW SOMEONE PEERED INTO YOUR SOUL... they'd see... you. You with your kinks and your values and your beauty and your mistakes and your messed up humanity. And that "you" is worthy of love. Yes, with the messed up kinks, too.

We are messy bitches, humans. Our brains are these ongoing chemistry experiments that do weird shit all the time. We sexualize shame, we shame sexuality, we sexualize trauma and morality and fear... even politics and identity!

And that's perfectly fine, as long as you don't harm others. And if you accidentally do, listen, be humble, learn. We all fuck up sometimes. I sure as shit have!

So how about in this new year we, you know, extend some kindness and grace to ourselves? We deserve it. As a treat.

[gamergirl-niffler]

What if... there is more to Dabi?

Sometimes I sit and think about stuff because of that I often have weird ideas, theories, headcanons, etc.

For the last few days, I was thinking about Touya and Dabi. How he was super fixated on revenge, EVEN if there were less aggressive ways to solve all of this...

And came to the conclusion:

"What if Touya suffers from DID and Dabi isn't just a way to hide his true identity, but a personality that developed to protect him and seek justice for his harm?"

It's probably super wrong approach but hear me out!

(From what I read on Wikipedia)

Early childhood trauma, places someone at risk of developing DID.

Traumas like: childhood abuse, violence, neglect, or severe bullying, dysfunctional family dynamics were reported in people suffering from DID

We all know "hellish" Todoroki family and the way stuff went there.

Touya was a child "created" for greatness by Enji.

From the very being, Enji put into Touya's head that "HE will be the one to suppress All Might himself" and since he was just a child he believed in this.

He believed his father, he wanted to learn, he wanted to achieve this goal, make his father proud, proof he is worth his love and attention because his other siblings were no threat.

Then Shoto was born, and BAM, everything burst like a bubble.

THAT'S WHEN DABI'S DEVELOPMENT COULD START.

Once loved boy with SO many expectations put into him was thrown aside like a rag doll for the sake of little brother.

Neglectful and selfish actions of his own father, mixed with Touya's obsession on being THE CHILD his father once said he was, led him to that cursed mountain and when Enji didn't show up...

That's when Dabi came out.

When we see him wake up after 3 years - it's not Touya, but Dabi.

Dabi - The personality developed to protect Touya, to prove that Touya can be the very thing Enji told he will be, a personality made to PAY BACK for all the harm that child had to go through because of bastard father.

He is like an older brother stepping in front of the younger sibling to take all the harm on himself.

It's not TOUYA doing all those bad things while chasing Enji and going against Shoto - It just Dabi.

Dabi who wants desperately show what Touya is capable of while Touya is just tucked away from all the harm, just waiting to be again acknowledged but not out of pity or because his father feels bad for his own actions but because of what he can be.

Of course, Dabi is so fixated on achieving this goal that he takes EXTREME measures - but it's all for Touya's happiness that he deserved ever since he was born.

This may make no sens, but this was a train of thoughts that went through my head very recently. The post is probably messy because I am not the best at making such things and putting them 'on paper"

Feel free to comment and tell me what you think about this, BUT please don't be mine or anything. I didn't mean to insult anyone with my limited knowledge.

I am curious of your thoughts

[willownwisp]

nice legs, daisy dukes.

i. nice legs daisy dukes makes a man go woo woo. (vendetta!leon x fem reader) author's note: like every responsible writer, this is not proofread because i run on my delusions and being thick faced. i write and call it a day. first entry of my valentine's advent, yayyyy! i tried to overcome my intense fear of dialogues because i know i suck at it omg please tell me if i did well, likes are vv appreciated! cw: nsfw. r18, MDNI PLS. fingering in public.

Leon feels like a creep, scratch that. He definitely looks like a creep. He probably looks like a thirty-six year old man waiting for a hot coed, because he is. He pulls out his phone to relieve himself of the slight shame, sends a dry text because he doesn't understand the purpose of an emoji. Never did. In his day, texts used to be enough and it was hot that you could send a coherent text with those small ass phones and even smaller keypad.

He leans against his Ducati looking like a fucking dick with an elaborately decorated box of pastries in hand. You've been eyeing the newly opened pâtisserie from across the street. He can be sweet when he wants to be, because he knows you're obsessed with those "instagrammable" treats. It gets him good boyfriend points because you matter, you're his sweet little bunny. The sweetest.

You're sweet when he sees you from the flood of students exiting the campus gates in your pink mini dress and a matching cardigan, a flood of warmth washes him, in his mind there are compartments. Store the trauma in another space deep inside his brain, and the other space a section of just you, he tucks away the image of you in this mini dress.

It's definitely going in his favorite outfits you wore.

You're sweet when you visibly perk up at the sight of him in all his 5'11 glory, beaming at him as you literally run towards where he stood. God you're just adorable.

"Lovey!"

Your sweet voice cuts through the idle murmur as you stand before him, and Leon looks at you with that soft gaze. You look like a bunny. A giddy one. The ribbons you wore on your hair come to view now that you're near, and the sight of your shapely thighs put him in a spell.

"Bunny, are you surprised?"

He replies with a smug smile.

"Uh-huh!"

You nod with a soft giggle, a faint blush dusting on your cheeks.

"We don't usually have lunch together…"

You add, the smile on your face is practically inextinguishable as you squirm. You're so fucking cute. He thinks before he brings up the box of pastries, presenting it to you like a cat gifting his owner a small trinket. You squeal before throwing your arms around him in a hug.

"Lovey! How did you know I wanted these?"

You ask and he chuckles, of course Leon would know. Who wouldn't when your social media is full of your ravings about the place, but he plays it off cool.

"I just did, bunny. Boyfriend senses and all."

That reply earns him a giggle from you and he's whipped. Your dainty hands grabbing the box as you mouth a small 'thank you' and his arms wrap around your waist. Lifting you up like nothing as he seats you atop his Ducati, like the pretty princess that you are.

"Where are we going, lovey?"

You ask, but the words fall on deaf ears for as soon as Leon had lifted you up in his hands, he's already thinking of ways to feel you, properly. The way your mini dress hikes up your thighs as he looks down to peek at your legs, he hums an acknowledgment to your question, his hands snaking from your waist to your thighs just where your mini dress ends. His thumbs rub lazy circles on your skin , before he lifts his head up to give you a cheeky grin.

"Anywhere bunny. Let's get out of here, yeah?" You nod obediently and he pulls away, giving your head a soft pat as you tell him off to not mess up your hairstyle and he rolls his eyes, takes the time to put your helmet on because he's a gentleman. "Hold on tight bunny." He'd say as you hug him from behind, the whole bike ride was silent as he speeds through traffic, only for the both of you to end up in a deserted park, right at a secluded spot just hidden behind trees and park picnic tables. Leon gets off first, taking off his helmet before turning his attention on you. He takes off yours only to be greeted by your confused face. "Are we having a picnic, lovey?" You ask, and he only gives you a smile before pressing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. "If that's what my bunny wants." There's a teasing lilt on his voice as his hands wander up to your thighs, his calloused palms rubbing up and down, and you get an inkling that it was not picnic time. "Lovey, don't do that… we're in public…"   You tell him off shyly but he only quirks an eyebrow. "It doesn't really matter when we're all alone, yeah?" His voice is husky as he bring his left hand to grip your cheeks gently, his thumb moving to trace the outline of your lips. "We'll be fine bunny." He assures you as the hand that rubs down your thigh inch higher, and higher until the pad of his fingers kisses your clothed pussy.

"I've always taken care of you haven't I?"

You respond with a whine, it's hard to resist when he gets like this. All over you, hands, and close as he possibly can.

"Lovey…"

You call out to him one more time, teetering on the edge of a protest or a plea for him to go on. Leon bits his lips as he rubs your clit slowly, stimulating you before he rains chaste kisses on your face. A kiss on your forehead, a kiss on your cheek, on your cute nose, and a peck on your lips, because you're his baby. He treats you like a ceramic décor, because your precious and fragile.

"Use your words, bunny."

He responds as he slowly feels your cotton panties dampen underneath his fingers, your clit swollen with need and he feels you heating up.

"Lovey, I'm wet…"

You whine again as you squirm beneath him, your grip on the handle of the box tightens up as your free hand claws the leather seat.

"Want me to help you, bunny?"

He coos as he uses his index fingers to tease your clothed pussy, rubbing it up and down the slit as your insides flutter.

"Uh-huh, please lovey."

A satisfied grin eases on his face before he eases his fingers off of which earns him a sad whimper from you and confused look before he shakes his head.

"Suck."

He orders, bringing in his digits to your mouth which you happily oblige to. He grunts as you wet his fingers with an experimental lick, you could taste yourself from his fingertips before your mouth covers his index and middle finger, sucking on it like a lollipop.

The sight sending electricity straight down to Leon's dick as he pulls his fingers out, giving your lips a short kiss ass your reward before his fingers find their way on your inner thighs again, tugging your panties to the side as your pussy kisses his wet fingers.

Leon being the tease that he is, traces your slit, up and down while his thumb presses on your clit as you instinctively spread your legs more to give him room.

"Lovey, don't tease!"

You whine in his ear once more and he chuckles. Two of his thick fingers plunge down your pussy with an embarrassing squelch as you gasp and Leon chuckles.

"She's speaking to me bunny."

He hums happily as his free hand move from your face to your thighs, keeping your pretty legs spread as it should as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

"Lovey…"

You moan, your one eye closes as you watch his hands move, looking down at his busy hands as your slippery pussy gives him enough leverage to slide in and out easily, while his thumb rub on your swollen nub.

"Yeah, bunny? You like that? Can fill you up right, yeah?"

He speaks to you, but you're too dazed to respond as your walls clench around him and he groans. Tipping his head forward to kiss you again, swallowing your moans as you make an "mph" sound as your lips crashes with his. You tilt your head to allow him to deepen the kiss as he slips his tongue inside, tasting your sweet mouth.

 "Ah—ah—" You moan as you part, his fingers not letting up. "You like this?" He whispers in your ear, his husky voice making your toes curl.  "Getting you off after school with my fingers?"  

"Ahh!" You moaned, shoving your hips against his pumping fingers. While his other hand skillfully unbuttons your cardigan's sole closed button before tugging your dress and bra together to reveal your breasts, before proceeding to licking on your nipple. "You're loving this, aren't you?" He rasps, spreading his fingers and pressing his thumb harder on her clit. "Being talked to like this? It gets you off even more, doesn't it, bunny?" He teases you before proceeding to hunch over to suck on your nipples, with his fingers just knuckle deep inside your pussy as your legs lock around his waist, the heels on your sandals digging on his back but he couldn't care less. Your sweet, sweet sounds as he gets you off, your luscious legs around him. God, he could cum from that alone. "Come on, bunny. Talk to your lovey." He teases again, a shit-eating grin on his face as he curls his fingers on that one sweet spot as you throw your head back and your walls clench his fingers in a vice grip. "Fuck, bunny. Can feel you squeezing tight. You're close, bunny?"

He asks but you only respond with a breathless moan as you tremble. He scissors his fingers inside you, alternating between spreading your pussy and curling his fingers and it drives you crazy. He leaves a bite mark around your nipples before he straightens his back to look at your disheveled form. Smirking at the fact that your cardi has slipped off your shoulders and your breasts heaving with your mini dress hiked to your waist.

Looking proud of himself, he captures your lips in a deep kiss as his fingers pump harder, you could hear the salacious squelching at how wet your pussy is.

"Come on bunny, cum for me. Show how much your lovey makes you feel good."

He grunts as his hands grip your cheeks, forehead resting on yours as you tighten up and your body tenses before cumming around his deft fingers with your lips parted in a silent scream.

He slowly halts his fingers, smirking as he brings it to his lips to taste you while you gather yourself. Panting and looking dazed at your older boyfriend who now laps at his fingers coated in your essence like a cat as he groans.

"Did I make you feel good, bunny?"

You nod weakly as your head rests on his chest. He only chuckles. He fixes you up. Tugging down your mini dress and fixing your upper half, buttoning up your cardi again.

"Wanna get lunch now, bunny?"

You look up at him as you slowly gather enough coherence to find that somehow in the middle of your indecency with Leon, the box of pastries had slipped from your fingers and is now a mess on the grass, decorating it with fresh fruit and whipped cream as your face falls and you look up at Leon who now sports a look of… guilt? On his face.

"Leon. Kennedy."

Your voice is dangerously low as you narrow your eyes at him.

"This is your fault!"

You exclaim with a pout as you tug on his leather jacket.

"I was looking forward to eating those! What a waste of food and money! Oh god, I feel so bad!"

Leon soothes you as he smoothens your hair with his hands and he kisses your forehead.

The good thing about being thirty-six and with a shit ton of disposable income is that he can buy you all that you want, it's what he intends to for his sweet, sweet bunny.

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. “I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t’fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

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[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Their everything.

Pairing: Hong woojin x reader x Kim gunwoo.

Summary: the past will always be part of your boyfriends, you knew that. But when an old friend returned you can't help but feel inferior.

Warnings: Past trauma, Arguments, Jealousy, Bromance, Polyamorous relationship, M/f/m, Smut, Threesome, Fingering, Oral ( Male), Creampies, Cum shot, Rough sex, Attempted non-con (not the boys), Augst?

In a way, you always believed that you, Gun-woo, and Woojin's relationship was too good to be true. How could the story of a girl living in a new country, starting a new beginning bumping into two handsome men, and spilling her coffee all over them, expecting to be yelled at instead they did the opposite. And as their eyes met yours, it was like everything in the world made sense. It sounded completely insane.

And you knew they truly loved you, the many nights of passion and sweet words made that clear. Yet the twinkles in Gunwoo's eyes and the big grin Woojin sported when he pulled Hyun Ju and Gunwoo into a hug as she showed up at your doorstep out of the blue, with tearful laughter and snuffling they invited her inside. Her hair was longer than it was in the pictures your boys had of her, reaching down her back and much more shinny, her skin flawlessly pale and her smile was heart-stopping. She was nothing short of gorgeous. She looked so perfect for them, why wouldn't she? They shared a history, a painful, gut-wrenching, and traumatic past, she understood the pain and horror while you couldn't even imagine what it felt like. They wouldn't have to deal with the disapproving stares and the brutal honesty of what people thought of their relationship or had to sometimes translate for her.

"Ah! Hyun Ju! This is our girlfriend!" Woojin grinned as he threw his arm over you and pulled you into his side, shaking you a bit. "Oh..when did you meet?" Hyun Ju asked, her almond eyes seemingly taking you in as she checked you from head to toe from across the couch you sat on between your boyfriends. "We met a year after dealing with Kim Myeong-gil," Gunwoo spoke up a soft smile on his plump lips as his fingers intertwined with yours. She only let out an acknowledgment hum before steering the conversation away from you.

They weren't home. Again. Like most days they were barely home, only coming back to pass out for whatever their doing with her, and for others, they'd be called away. A sense of hopefulness took over you as you heard a knock at the door, smiling you stopped cutting up your strawberries and rushed out of the kitchen and to the door, your heart beating faster at the thought of seeing your boys. "my, princess, you look excited to see me." a smug smirk tugged at your best friend's lips as he welcomed himself in, your smile faded. "Oh..hey, Sang." you greeted, shutting the door behind him and walking back into the kitchen, sighing as he ate one of the sliced fruit. "Why the long face?" he asked, taking hold of your chin, his thumb rubbing under your bottom lip once you got closer. His hazel eyes bored into your orbs, and his soft dyed sliver hair lay parted on his forehead "Are you not happy to see me?" he pouted. "N-no it's not that..." you trailed off, looking away but Sang, his sudden touch felt different from the other times, it was too intimate, "I just..miss them.." you muttered. "Oh, princess. They don't deserve your love. you must be so lonely here." Sang cooed, his hand sneaking behind your neck, "Let me make it better." he whispered, using his hand around your neck and shoving you closer, mashing your lips together.

The boys walked into the apartment you shared as Woojin complained about the weight of the things they had to carry. "Wah, why did she have to make us carry such heavy things?" he whined, rolling his sore shoulder. Gunwoo chuckled at his friend's antics. However, their entry was abruptly interrupted by Woojin's outburst. He grabbed Sang's shoulder, pulled him back, and pushed him away from you. Overcome by rage, Woojin cursed at Sang, his words coming out too fast to understand, but it was clear that it was not good.

Just as Woojin was gonna throw a punch Gunwoo stopped and shook his head before looking at Sang, "Leave..before I hurt you myself." Gunwoo glared at the other man, despite his calm tone, and that made Sang gulp in fear before scurrying away, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Tension-filled silence hung between the three of you before Woojin broke it. "So this is what you've been doing while we were gone?!" he yelled, stepping closer. "Having fun with that jerk?" He couldn't be serious. "Huh?! Answer me!" He screamed as he trapped you against the wall. While this happened, Gunwoo stood there, staring at you with an unreadable emotion. A rage you had never felt before welled up inside you as you pushed Woojin as hard as you could, moving him a few feet back.

"What about you, huh?!" you screamed right back as you glared at your boyfriends. "How about your fun with that runaway? You both seemed pretty eager to be at her beck and call!" Gunwoo opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke again before he could. "Ever thought how much I would miss you? No, you didn't." Wiping the tears that built up in your eyes as you stormed to your bedroom and slammed the door shut leaving the boys frozen in shock.

A soft knock came an hour later. "Nae sarang," Gunwoo softly spoke. "We're so sorry." He sighed and laid his forehead on the wooden door. "Jagiya, I'm so sorry. I never should've yelled at you. Forgive me," Woojin sorrowfully begged. You wanted to be mad at them, to still be so angry, but the truth is you missed them too much to care about your anger. With a sigh, you opened the door and once they saw you, Woojin pulled you in a kiss, the hand on your cheek traveled down to your hip and shoved you into his chest, the kiss quickly became heat. You whimpered as Woojin's lips were replaced by Gunwoo's, his soft pillowy lips were a contrast to Woojin's thinner but equally soft lips. his hot tongue demanded entry to your mouth, once granted, he swirled his tongue around yours.

Pulling back, Gunwoo helped Woojin in his mission to leave you bare of your clothes, their clothes following soon after. Your moans were muffed as your lips around Woojin's cock, his thick, long cock thrusted into your hot mouth as Gunwoo's dick pumped in and out of your tight cunt, your slick dripping down onto his balls ans onto the bed. You were a mess, saliva running down your chin as Woojin used your mouth as a fleshlight, his neatly trimmed pubes brushed against your nose as he pushed his cock down your throat "I'm gonna c-cum,Jagiya!" Your older boyfriend cried out, his hips sped up, and his dick throbbed against your tongue. Gunwoo's pace sped up to match with his best friends thrusts, pushing you to your own climax.

With a shout, Woojin pulled out and his hot cum shot after shot onto your face, and heaving chest.

Gunwoo's strong arms wrapped around your middle, his hips raised and without warning he slammed you down onto his cock. "Yes!" You moaned as your hips stuttered from your second orgasm all the while your younger boyfriend thrusted upwards into your wet heat below you "Cumming!" He groaned as he threw his head back, his milky, hot semen released to you.

"We love you," Woojin spoke up after a while as you all caught your breaths. "Never forget that." Gunwoo continued as he wiped some sweat from your brow. "I love y'all too." You smiled at them weakly.

@geonwooz

[lisalamona]

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 - I

Chapter I: The Horse And The Infant

. Summary: Despite your brother's insistence, you stubbornly decided to join him and his men in the war. Now, are you prepared to face the consequences of your actions? . Pairing: Various x Fem! Reader (platonic) . Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, trauma, and other sensitive content. . Notes: I'm starting to upload this story here on tumblr, I am really sorry for clogging the tags.

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Masterlist

Ten years. Ten years of fighting and barely surviving, only for it all to be ruined by some stupid wooden horse. "It'll never work!" "They'll burn it first!" "By far the stupidest-"

Exclamations and murmurs erupted around you at the captain's proposal, the voices of roughly six hundred men booming with disbelief and anger.

"Enough." Odysseus's attempt to regain control fell on deaf ears, seeming only to make the men talk louder. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhaustion practically radiating off him, with dark bags shadowing his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights.

"Brother." You placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Despite years of learning to keep his guard up, he still jumped slightly, startled.

"Yes?" He turned to you, focusing intently, his voice tired and strained from days of argument and tension.

"Is it really true that Athena told you this?" You glanced at him, uncertain and weary of the plan. Were the Trojans really so gullible as to believe that a wooden horse big enough to hold thirty soldiers was a peace offering? And was your brother really so bold to think that just thirty of you could hold off the whole city of Troy, even if only until the rest of the soldiers arrived?

He nodded. "Every single detail. Believe me, I didn't think it would work either, but—"

"I believe you." He took the hand still resting on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, leaning his head toward it in appreciation.

"Thank you." He looked at you, clearly grateful that at least one person was on his side. "But you don't count. You're my sister."

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away, and you both chuckled despite the tension.

But the moment of peace was short-lived. Around you, men were beginning to shove each other, voices rising into angry arguments, some even leveling threats.

"Captain!" Both you and your brother turned to see Polites pushing through the crowd, struggling to make his way to you. He was a young man you'd come to consider a close friend after all these years of war. "I tried to calm them down, but they won't listen!"

"You need to do something," came another voice, sharp with urgency. Eurylochus was close behind Polites, giving you a brief nod in acknowledgment before returning to the matter at hand. "Captain, this is getting out of hand," he added, voice stern.

You glanced around at the men, watching as tempers flared and fists clenched. Ignoring your brother's warning look, you grabbed one of the chairs from the table he'd been using to explain the plan. Using it as a platform, you propelled yourself on top of it and brought your foot down as hard as you could. The booming sound echoed through the tent, a noise loud enough that you half expected they'd hear it from Troy.

"ENOUGH!"

All heads turned toward you, the crowd freezing, save for an awkward cough echoing from somewhere near the back.

"Would you all like to shut up for five minutes?" You took a breath to compose yourself. "Your captain was saying something."

The men turned toward Odysseus, who let out an exasperated sigh. "Thank you, [Name]. You can get down from the table now."

You shot him a mockingly sweet smile as Eurylochus reached up to help you down.

"Did I do good?" you asked with a grin.

"You did great," he replied, sounding almost relieved.

──────🗡️──────

Hours passed, hours that felt like days. The only thing keeping you awake were the occasional screams of joy from the people outside.

Eventually, all noise subsided. It seemed that night had fallen, and the Trojans had gone to sleep—most of them, at least.

Odysseus stood up as quietly as he could, avoiding the trap door below. "Alright, everybody, listen closely," he whispered, his voice barely carrying in the cramped space. No one knew exactly what might be waiting for them outside. "Tonight, we make the Trojans pay. Ten years of this cursed war... They've been chipping away at us, grinding us down slowly."

He looked around at the faces surrounding him, men who had once been young and filled with hope, now weary and weathered by battle. Some clutched their swords with white knuckles, while others cast brief glances to each other, finding strength in their shared purpose. The weight of those lost years was written in their eyes, etched in lines on their faces.

"Think of your wives and your children, they're out there wondering where you have been. They're lives keep going and yet you're still here. If you do as I say you'll see them again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Even in your relatively quiet voice, you held a tone of unwavering resolve.

Odysseus turned to the group, his gaze intense and commanding as he laid out the plan one last time. "Diomedes will lead the charge. Agamemnon, you're on the guards. Menelaus, open the gates and let the rest of our men in to take over the city. Teucer, you'll cover us, shoot down any ambush. Little Ajax, you stay back." He paused, looking each man in the eye, emphasizing his trust — and the weight of their roles.

"[Name] and Nestor," he continued, "your job is to find Helen and make sure she stays safe."

"But—"

"I'm not done talking," he cut you off, his tone firm. "We won't argue about this right now. It's enough that I allowed you to come."

"Yes, sir." You held back, swallowing your frustration. Though you weren't pleased with your brother's decision, you knew it wouldn't help to challenge him now.

Beside you, the older man, Nestor, gave you a sympathetic glance. His hair was streaked with gray, age softening his once-dark features. Despite his years, he could still hold his own in battle — though Odysseus clearly wanted someone experienced and careful watching over you. The thought irked you. You wanted to prove yourself, to show that you were just as capable as your brother. But you also knew that openly defying him wouldn't win that trust.

Odysseus turned his attention back to the group. "And lastly, Neoptolemus, avenge your father. Kill Hector's brothers."

He scanned each of you with a final, resolute look. "We'll move soon. Stay alert. When I give the signal, don't hesitate."

"Yes, sir!"

"Dig deep now," he continued, his voice low and commanding. "Find that inner strength. Tap into your pride. Push through the pain. And ask yourself: What do you live for? What do you fight for?"

──────🗡️──────

"I just don't understand why he wouldn't let me actually fight." You and Nestor had managed to sneak into the palace undetected. A young servant had revealed Helen's exact location with little hesitation after seeing your drawn swords.

"You are fighting," Nestor replied calmly.

"Fighting what, exactly? This zone is completely isolated!" You gestured around the empty hall, emphasizing your frustration. Everyone in the palace had either fled in panic or joined the battle raging outside. "Now I'm stuck on a rescue mission with you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, but you're... you know..."

"Old?" Nestor raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"...Yes," you admitted.

He chuckled. "Fighting isn't just about swinging your sword around. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. That doesn't stop Odysseus from being a—"

"Hey!" A voice shouted from behind you. Both of you turned to see a Trojan guard. Though most of his face was obscured by his helmet, his anger was palpable.

"Looks like you'll get your fight after all." You let out a small, triumphant "Yes!" and drew your sword, settling into your stance.

The soldier drew his sword and started forward, his walk turning into a sprint. He didn't care that he was outnumbered—all he saw was red. You tightened your grip on your own blade, feeling your heartbeat thunder in your chest as adrenaline surged through you. And then—

...

An arrow whistled through the hallway window, striking him in the neck. He dropped instantly, collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap. His momentum was halted as abruptly as his final breath.

"What?"

You and Nestor approached the window, peering out to spot Teucer on a nearby balcony. He grinned at you, his fingers deftly notching another arrow, already aimed at his next target.

You groaned, muttering a silent curse, which only made Nestor chuckle at your misery.

"We should get moving before things get any worse down there," he said.

The words made you glance down at the wreckage below. Troy was in ruins—homes consumed by flames, people fleeing in desperation, and bodies scattered everywhere, too many to count. Even though you'd known the cost when you signed up for the war, a pang of guilt twisted in your gut at the sight of so many innocent lives lost that night.

You sighed, your voice bitter. "I doubt it can get much worse."

"Never say that. You never know what could happen." His voice was firm, yet a touch of urgency lingered in his tone as he guided you away from the window. With a steady hand on your shoulder, he led you onward, the path tightening as you neared the place where Helen was supposedly being held.

As you approached the room, you noticed two men sprawled on the ground, a pool of dark red liquid seeping from their lifeless bodies. They were definitely dead. You exchanged a tense glance with Nestor before carefully stepping around the bodies, doing your best to avoid the sticky crimson trails that marked the floor. Together, you crept toward the door, steeling yourselves as you slowly pushed it open.

The room seemed spotless, unnaturally so—far too clean and orderly, as if no one had ever lived here. The bed was pristine, untouched, with not a single wrinkle to suggest anyone had even sat on it. The shelves were bare, devoid of trinkets or personal effects. In fact, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"Huh," you muttered. "See? This is why I said we should ask more than one perso—"

Your words were cut short as something heavy and ceramic smashed into your helmet, breaking into shards and sending you stumbling back, ears ringing. Nestor instantly drew his sword, the blade flashing as he braced for an attack, eyes darting around for the ambusher.

Shaking off the dizziness, you steadied yourself, blinking to clear your vision. Standing before you was a tall, blonde woman, her gaze sharp and unyielding, clutching another urn in her hands, poised to throw it again if you made a wrong move.

"Hey, hey!" You raised your hands slowly, keeping your voice low and steady, as though calming a feral animal. "We're here to help you—"

She shifted her weight, winding up for another throw, eyes narrowing.

"We come from Greece. We're here to get you home."

For a tense moment, her fierce gaze softened just slightly, though her grip on the urn didn't waver. Her eyes darted toward Nestor, clearly sizing him up.

"Drop your sword," she commanded.

With a wary glance in your direction, Nestor hesitated before lowering his weapon, his muscles tense, ready for anything.

"You're Helen, right?" you asked gently. She nodded, weariness and distrust shadowing her face as she held back any words.

"I'm [Name], and this is Nestor," you continued. "We need you to come with us so we can get you out of here." Your voice was soft, soothing, and you could see her shoulders relax, if only slightly. She nodded, a glimmer of hope breaking through her guarded expression.

"We won't hurt you. I promise," you assured her. Then, noticing the urn she clutched so tightly, you added, "You uh– you can bring the urn with you, if it makes you feel safe."

Helen gave you a small, grateful smile, a gesture that held more weight than words ever could.

The three of you moved swiftly through the palace halls, carefully distancing yourselves from the bloodshed and chaos unfolding outside. You kept to the shadows, ensuring no one would spot you sneaking her away. It was not just about hiding her from prying eyes—it was about sparing her from the weight of war, shielding her from the crushing burden of its cruelty.

Once you reached the bottom floor, the stench of blood and scorched flesh hit you like a wave. Screams of terror mingled with the guttural war cries of your comrades, a cacophony that filled the air with raw, frantic energy. You were so close to the battle now that you could almost feel the clash of steel and the heat of the flames licking at your skin.

Nestor, ever the protector, guided Helen carefully through the chaos, urging her to avert her eyes from the carnage around her. Instead, he directed her gaze toward the outer wall of the palace, acting as a shield from the violence. You were right behind them, moving swiftly yet deliberately, every step calculated to keep you unseen, just in case the tide of battle turned in an instant.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of your brother. He seemed to be holding his own, knocking a soldier to the ground and plunging his sword into his chest. But then you saw it—the glint of another soldier creeping up behind him, blade raised. Without a second thought, you dashed forward, ignoring Nestor's shouted warning. Your hand was already on the soldier's throat, pulling him away, before you drove your own blade through him, ending his life in one swift motion.

The heat of battle surged through your veins as you stood protectively by your brother's side, heart pounding.

He turned to you, his face caught somewhere between pride and frustration. "Why did you do that? I could handle him."

Adrenaline still surged through your veins, your hands trembling as you struggled to catch your breath. "I gave you strict orders to stay out of harm's way."

"But you're my brother! You think I could just stand by and do nothing?"

"Right now, I'm your captain," he snapped, his tone sharp but cracking slightly. "You wanted to play, so play by the rules."

"And what, let you die in front of me?" Your voice was thick with anger and fear, words spilling out before you could stop them. He let out a long sigh, and the hardness in his eyes softened.

"Thank you." His voice was low, and the weight behind it made it feel genuine.

"Where's Helen?" he asked, already moving purposefully toward an unknown destination. He motioned for you to follow.

"She's with Nestor." You glanced back in the direction you'd come from, searching for them. They were nearly halfway along the path. "They're almost there."

"Good."

"And where are we headed?" you asked as the two of you began to climb a steep stone staircase, spiraling up the tower.

"We need to make sure that no body's left in here."

As you both reached the top of the stairs, an icy wave washed over you, seizing your breath and making you shiver. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck rose as your heart pounded, faster than it had all night. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut and raised your arms, bracing yourself against the oncoming figure that had lunged at you without warning. But the blow never landed.

You opened your eyes, but the hallway before you was empty, lined with tall windows on one side, dimly reflecting your tense, wide-eyed expression. You turned to your brother, searching his face for any sign that what you'd just felt wasn't a trick of the mind. His expression mirrored your own: pale, unsettled.

"Who... was that?"

An eagle screeched, its call slicing through the silence as it landed on the nearest window sill. Behind it, lightning split the sky, though not a drop of rain had fallen. Its piercing gaze settled on you and your brother, unnervingly focused and unwavering. Despite being just a bird, it exuded a presence that filled the room—a silent authority that commanded attention. You didn't need to study it to know exactly who it was.

"A vision of what cannot be avoided; it can only be faced here and now."

"What do you mean?" You turned to fully face it, anxiety flickering with a reluctant curiosity.

The eagle's gaze lingered on you, heavy and unreadable, like a storm about to break. "I don't think you're ready," he said, his voice low, every word sharp. "A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run—this enemy is unlike anyone you've faced before."

"Say no more, we're ready." Your brother's voice was firm as he stepped toward the door at the far end of the hallway. Without a moment's hesitation, you fell into step behind him, your resolve matching his. The eagle, ever watchful, soared next you two, its wings slicing through the air outside the palace as it followed your every move.

Odysseus gripped the handles of the door with all his strength, mentally bracing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side. You, too, clenched the hilt of your sword with equal resolve, your knuckles white, a silent promise to face whatever came next.

"I don't think you're ready," the voice echoed, repeating its warning from before.

He finally burst through the doors, the force of his entry sending a powerful gust that dissolved the eagle in an instant, vanishing as if it were nothing more than smoke in the wind.

In the room, there was nothing more than a crib, with toys scattered haphazardly around the floor. It was a miracle no one had entered this room earlier.

"It's just a boy. What sort of imminent threat could he possibly pose?" your brother murmured, his voice softening, as did your stance. There was no immediate danger there.

You approached the crib slowly, cautiously—taking care not to startle the child inside.

Through the single window, clouds swirled and shifted, forming the vague silhouette of the King of the Gods himself. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the room as if he were standing right there with you. "This is the son of Troy's prince Hector. Know that he will grow not just to a man, but to an avenger. One consumed by rage, as time itself consumes him. If you do not end him now, there will be no one left to save. Say goodbye to everything you hold dear."

Finally, you reached the crib and peered inside. It was just a small infant, his eyes still closed, sleeping peacefully—blissfully unaware of the storm that loomed beyond those four walls.

"I could raise him as my own." Your brother was quick to offer a solution, but the god was quicker with a retort, sparking a back-and-forth that left no room for doubt: Odysseus didn't want to face the consequences of what the god was implying.

"He will burn your house and throne."

"I could send him far away from home."

"He'll find you wherever you go."

"We'll make sure his past is never known."

"The gods will make it known."

"I'm begging you, please! Please don't make me do this!" Odysseus' voice broke, desperation rising in him as his last options bled dry. There was only one choice left, and he knew it, and you knew it.

The god's final words rang through the air, cold and unyielding. "The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

[a-bisexual-panicking]

i think we don't talk enough about Will's trauma. the only thing that i don't like about tsats is the fact that is explores is really poorly, but there are still some things that say a lot. he mentions having a place at camp where he periodically goes just to scream because he's too stressed. and the nightmare??? the one with Nico, Meg and Lester in it??? the one where his father critiques him for not being good even as a battery??? not to mention things that aren't in tsats, like the fact that he became head counselor at 13, seeing almost all of his siblings dying in the battle of Manhattan and his cabin going from being one of the most numerous to basically empty??? or just the trauma of being a war doctor??? why aren't we talking about this??? my poor sunshine boy is so overlooked i need someone to acknowledge him