#and I still felt bad for yelling at these abusive people at the end like I was the bad person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ratcash-wasgud · 8 months

Text

A gentle breeze could be our end ༊*·˚

Okay, so I had a vision about this very specific idea for a fic, which is...what if you took the role of Kinuyo? Hear me out, plsplspls.

(i altered a lot of canon things, sorry sorry. (i'm also sorry if anyone has done this before))

WC: 4K

TW: Abuse, Sexual harassement, Pedophelia and Prostitution. Basically kinda fucked up, sorry.

You always felt like a burden to the world. Even in the womb, you hurt your mother. She died the moment you left her body, maybe even halfway, taking a great thing from the world, and giving it something useless with your own birth.

You didn't cry out when you saw the light, your little mouth opened, but no sound came out. The world was quiet.

As you grew up, you never managed get grow into anything you wanted to, and your father hated you for it. You never heard him say a word, but you knew he said hateful things. You tried to learn to read in secret, but only managed to barely get through one book after years. Learning was hard. Living was hard too.

You were 10 when he first hit you. It happened because you accidently dropped a cup, shattering it on the ground. You felt his footsteps approaching behind you, then when you felt his presence right behind you, he striked. He noticed how you survived, and you only gained a bruise from it.Plus, you couldn't yell for help, nor tell anyone. This gave him confidence. He started hitting you for every little mistake, sometimes even just for being born. You could see him feeling bad about it sometimes, but he still did it again. It just made you believe it even more that this is all your own fault. For being born wrong.

And you were 15 when he started missing your mother too much. He touched you, he made you touch him, and he forced you to open up and show him everything he wanted. You hated it. You hated your own body for exsisting, and giving him this option of using you. For having a body that could please men. Please...him.

One day though, he got caught. A neighbour, bringing over some leftovers caught him, standing bare before you, your tears dripping to the floor, as he hold your nose shut, so that you'd eventually open your mouth for him. But he got caught. It was over.

He had to get rid of you, so he sold you. But even after he left your life, he still wanted you to have a rotting future. He picked the brothel where he knew the man were disgusting. The most deprived kind. He sold you to Madame Kaji's brothel. By that point, your body was weak, and even walking was something you hated doing. You just wanted to lay down, and wait for your body to disappear.

But she was something warm. Something beautiful. Madame Kaji took you in, and smiled at you. She taught you everything you yearned for to know. She taught you to properly read and even write. She taught you manners and how to hide your fear. How to survive, even if you're weak. And she never hurt you in the process. She taught you sign langauge, and in the process, you learned to even read lips a little. She taught you a sign, which, in your head, you named "Love". It consisted of her gently kissing her fingers, then putting her hands around herself. Like a hug and a kiss in one. Love.

As you got better in writing, you wrote down everything that happened to you so far to her. Sometimes you teared up while writing, but she was always there, gently soothing you, and caressing your hair. She promised you that no man would ever touch you again, and she'll give you hapiness. You slept in her room, never leaving her side when it wasn't really necessary. She kept you safe. You were happy. She became your world. You wanted to be by her side, forever.

Living in a brothel made you more concious about people's sexual life, and every time you saw a man's face contort in pleasure, a shiver ran down your spine, prickling at your intestines, feeling your insides recoil in fear and disgust. You wanted to run away, and just jump back into Madame Kaji's embrace, but you had to be strong, like she wanted you to be. You never had to sleep with a man, but sometimes you went out to serve drinks, having to see the girls, who you admired greatly and saw as big sisters, having to engage in acts that would've have made you have a breakdown. Still, you stayed useless.

You wanted to be useful, you really did, but she never let you do much. You were too precious, she claimed. You really did love Madame Kaji, but you felt like a burden. No...you knew you were a burden.

One day, you managed to somehow convince her to let you serve drinks on a busy day. You nuzzled your face into her palm, gently kissing it before you picked up a tray and hurried into the customer area. You saw a man, middle aged, balding, the usual kind of man she sees there, sitting alone at a table. You sat down at the table, giving him a small, weak smile, and poured him sake. You put your finger on your lips, signaling that he shouldn't expect words from you.

The man smiled, sipping the sake. He stared at you, and kept...he kept staring. It started to feel really uncomfortable. His eyes started to burn through your clothes, and you suddenly felt his hand on your knee...slowly creeping up. You felt like throwing up.

Suddenly, Madame Kaji appeared next to you, her hand slipping his off you.

"Boss Hamata," Madame Kaji greets the man, as you sit there, not hearing a word. She signals you to leave, so you do. "She's not up for business." She says to Hamata, wearing a polite smile.

"Oh, is she now?" The man says with a cruel smile. "She's be a great addition to my home." He says, mostly to himself, as he stands up.

"You don't want another girl? Your usual is free at the moment." Kaji says after him.

"No," The man says again. "I lost my apetite." He then casually leaves.

The next day was your doom. The same man you remembered from last night returned with an army, and tore you out of Madame Kaji's hands.

Hamata was the devil himself. He took you because you were weak and couldn't fight back. He took you as his bride the same day, and left you covered in bruises the same night. He squeezed your throat, kneeled on your wrists, hit your skin, and forced his way in. He loved it, but you felt yourself slowly die inside day by day.

The worst thing? He was the same as your father. He had the same disgusting glint in his eyes, he licked his lips the same way, and he...he...tasted the same too. You tried jumping off the balcony, he punished you after. You tried stabbing yourself, he punished you after. You tried to poison yourself, he punished you after. You yearned for death by that point.

You spent most of your free time, when you could move, on the balcony, watching the brothel's door...hoping to catch a glimpse of Madame Kaji. Even seeing her form would give you comfrort...but you never did. You missed her more than anything. More than your own freedom.

One night, you were trying to sleep with the pain that he left behind that day, sorrounded by guards, to make sure you're not trying to kill yourself again, until...the guards fell, one by one...and a samurai walked out of the darkness.

Mizu looked at you, the weak, deaf and mute girl she was set out to kill that night. She was determined. She needed those informations that Madame Kaji offered as payment. She had killed a lot of inocent things before, what's one more?

But when she saw your face...covered in bruises, shaking and tearing up, she felt something change inside her. You crawled away from her, backing up until your back hit the wall. She stepped closer to you, not liking the fear in your eyes. She couldn't help but see your beauty, even if it shouldn't matter right now. She extended a hand to you, but you didn't take it.

Obviously. You were afraid of her too. In your eyes, she was a man. A threat.

So, she did the sign Madame Kaji told her to. "Love." She saw your eyes soften, and your features almost brighten up. She offered her hand again, and this time, you took it. She heard more guards coming, so as you took her hand, she started running and pulled you with her. She hid with you, and held you close, gently soothing your hair. She felt you shaking in her arms, and she...she felt something snap inside her. She put her hands around your head, to quickly snap your neck...but she couldn't. Her hands wouldn't move. So, she stood up, leaving you in the hiding place, and started casually walking out.

She knows if the fact that she was here gets out, Hamata sends out his Thousand Claws to burn down Madame Kaji's brothel...so she needed to act now. She decided to face the army now.

As she walked out, and the Claws started charging at her after exiting the first door, she fought back with all her might. She slowly got tired. Her body was about to give out after slashing down hundreds of men, but something flashed in her mind.

She saw Mikio's face. Their duel. The face he made when he betrayed her. And she couldn't help but see your face too. She knows the world betrayed you too. She imagined you getting betrayed in the same way she did, and imagined you crying along with her. She saw you get killed by the men she is currently slaying down.

She couldn't give up. She finished the whole army, and went back to get you, wounded and exhausted. When you saw her, covered in blood, your eyes widened in fear.

You got scared of her again. She sighed "Love" again, but this time, you shook your head, and curled up in your hiding place. Mizu sighed, and kneeled by you.

She then started to write on the floor, using the blood on her. "I'll protect you." She said it as she wrote it, trying to convince you to communicate too.

You read the text, and looked at her, your eyes still so scared and vulnerable, it made Mizu's heart squeeze. She didn't know you, she reminded herself. Still...she meant when she said she's protect you.

Your hand shook as she reached out, dipping your finger in a small pool of blood that dripped down from her clothes. "Protect the Madam." You wrote.

Mizu sighed. Why did you care about Kaji right now? You're obviously scared for your own life too, so why not care about saving yourself?

"She'll be safe." She writes back. "I killed the ones who could hurt her." She finishes. It's true, she did kill everyone...but left Hamata to be slayed by Kaji herself.

Then you looked up at her again, and stood up. You followed her outside, leaving that blood ridden house.

When she brought you back to Madam Kaji, you jumped into her arms.

"They won't come looking for her." Mizu says, switching back to deadpan, as she nudged her head towards the wounded Hamata at the exit of his house.

Madama Kaji nodded while gently while gently caressing your hair.

"Still...she can't stay here. In a place like this...they will want to take her again." She sighed. Mizu's eyes widened. "I couldn't protect her once...I'd rather perish than see her be taken again."

"You want me to take her with me? She'll die by my side." Mizu responds, shaking her head.

"You're the reason she's alive. You didn't give her the freedom of death, you gave her the freedom of life. You didn't do what I asked you to...so I ask you to keep her safe."

Mizu, biting the inside of her cheek, kept quiet for a couple moments, thinking about it.

"I'll find her a new home." She says, sighing. "I'll keep her safe until then." She says, now looking down at you.

Considering now that she was alone, since they took Akemi back to her home, and Ringo left her after she did nothing about it, still...she couldn't enjoy being alone. She now had you.

You cried when Madame Kaji told you that you had to leave. You kissed her hand repeatedly, like how you always did when you nuzzled into her palm, and clinged to her clothes. After you let go, Madame Kaji signed "Love", and with one simple tear, she bid goodbye.

Later that night, after walking the whole day, Mizu set up a small campfire in the woods for the night. You sat there, not even trying to communicate, just staring at the fire. Mizu felt confilcted. She didn't know you, she reminded herself again, but deep inside she already got herself attached. She lightly poked your shoulder, making sure not to make too much contact and to scare you.

You turned to face her, your big eyes shining at her, and your features shining in the light of the camfire. Still...you had circles under your eyes, bruises on your neck, your lips wounded from you...or someone else...biting on them too much.

"I saw you reading lips." Mizu says, making sure to articulate every word properly. "I didn't know you could do that."

You tilt your head at her, then purse your lips. You pick up a stick from the ground and start writing in the dirt. Your hands move softly, gently even, as if the stick was breathing in your hand. You focused your eyes on the thing your were writing, and your gaze followed your hand. Your hair fell into your face a little, framing your features.

"Madame helped." You write, then turn your face back to Mizu, to read her lips if she responds.

"...kind of her." She murmurs, making you unable to read it. She wanted to talk to you, but somehow...it was hard. Not for the fact that you were deaf or mute, but the fact that she somehow...felt nervous. As if she made the wrong move, you'd shatter where you stand. You seemed so delicate, and Mizu knew her blood stained fingers and harsh words would only cause you harm. She really didn't want herself to be the one to look after you. Plus, she knew you were deadly afraid of men, and you saw her as one. Suddenly, she felt this strong urge to reveal herself. To make you feel safe. Or maybe because of other, more selfish reasons...to make you feel more comfortable around her. To make you open up.

"Don't be afraid." She says, now articulating enough for you to read. "I'm no man." She says, putting a hand on her chest. Your eyes widened in surprise, and wrote "Boy?" in the dirt.

Mizu shook her head. "Woman." She says, correcting you. You looked at her, utterly confused. Mizu slowly lowered her haori, revealing her binded chest. "Woman." She repeated.

Your gaze softened. You finally understood. A small smile pulled at the ends of your lips and nodded. You moved your hand again, writing again. "Fooled me." You then look at her, your smile reaching your shining eyes. Mizu chuckles in response.

"A habit of mine, yes. I do it most people." She leans back on her hands, now feeling more relaxed. She looked at your face again, and...she felt mesmerized. She felt horrible when the thought that she understood why Hamata wanted you popped up in her head.

You then start writing again, and Mizu's gaze snaps back to your hands again. "Thank you." You then give her a weak smile. "I'm not like you. I am not strong. I will die easier." You stopped for a moment before continuing. "So thank you for not letting me die."

Mizu's eyes widen. If she thinks about it, it's true, but the fact that you're talking so openly about it bothers her. "You won't die easily. You're strong too. I mean...you're still alive. That has to mean something." She says, squinting her eyes at the fire.

Mizu sees your shoulders move a little, as if you're giggling, but no sound comes out. She does imagine what your giggle would be like though. She imagines it to be soft and gentle, since that's the only way she ever seen you do anything. "True. But I wish I wasn't born wrong." You write.

Mizu presses her lips together and looks at you with pity. She doesn't know why she feels pity, she herself was born wrong too. She's a halfblood, someone who has always been a dog. Something rather than someone. "Sometimes the world is not fair." She shrugs. "But you need to make the most of your situation. You're lucky in a lot of ways."

Your eyebrows lifted, and you tilted your head, as if saying "Like what?" Mizu noticed that you were able to communicate a lot with your eyes and the way you moved your head.

"Well, for starters...you're beautiful." She said, not managing to keep her gaze on you. That was a stupid thing to say, huh? Why would she even say that? She met you the other day, saving you from some sadistic bastard, and having to take you in afterwards...she's not being appropriate.

But when she turned her gaze back to you, she saw you with your eyes wide and your cheeks flush. Oh. Did she do that?

The days go by, and wherever she goes, Mizu's first thing to do, is ask around for a new home for you. She doesn't want to bring you along to this wretched journey of hers any more than needed. You already had to see her kill a group of people the other day, and it left you pale and scared. She remembers how you looked with a drop of blood splattered across your face, and how you wiped it away with a shaky hand. She never wants to see it again.

While traveling together, Mizu learned how precious you are. She knows your past, and she sees you flinch when a man passes by you, but still you want to do anything you can for her. Even if it's small things like running the errand of buying food, running after her hat that fell off her head then got kidnapped by the wind, and sitting by yourself at a river for hours, trying to scrub the blood out of her clothes, even if it makes you shiver. Your delicate hands started to have small callouses from living out in the open with her, but your bruises faded away. Good, she though. You don't deserve to have any, so she'll never have you gain another one again.

Hm. She was planning more and more ahead. Why? Wasn't she planning to find you a home that's not beside her? She knew you couldn't be happy by her side, it wasn't the life you deserved. You deserved to find an angel of a husband, who's strong enough to protect you, coddle you daily, and never let you do any work. Who'll kiss you whenever he sees any sign of gloominess on your features, and someone who'll make you believe you're not born wrong.

And she knows you'd be the sweetest wife too. You'd put your delicate hands on his aching muscles after a hard day, massaging away the pain, then gently kiss the tip of his nose. You'd snuggle into him after feeding him something delicous for dinner, and trace the words you want to say into her skin with your fingers. Mizu would hum in response, just gently playing with your hair, letting the peace take over as she'd put her hand under your chin, making you look at her face when she'd say something, so you could read her lips. She'd never tell you about the blood she had to shed that day, only the good things. Like when she saw a small bird, and it reminded her of you, or when she managed to buy a kind of sweet you liked on her way back. She'd feed you that candy by hand too. She'd watch your pouty lips open as she'd place the sweet treat in your warm and wet--!

When did this turn into being about her? Something like that could never happen. She's a woman with a quest, not some domestic husband. Still...she wants it to be like that. She'd treat you well if she had the chance...But she doesn't. She lacks everything for that. She can't abandon her quest.

So, one day she finds an inn. The inn keeper tells her about recently losing his daughter, who was his only staff. He even sheds a tear. Mizu tells him about the girl she's traveling with.

"She's deaf, she's mute...but she's a hard worker. She can read lips, and writes well." She tells the inn keeper with a serious face. "I'm sure she won't even ask for payment if you take care of her." She says, but inside, she doesn't want to do this. She wants you to stay by her side, but...that's a wretched path. You need this. You need a peaceful life.

The inn keeper seems to be deep in though for a couple of moments before he nods. It's settled. After two months of torture, being in her care, she finally found you annew home. It's good news, right? So why...why does she feel like slashing the inn keeper's throat just for agreeing? Why does she feel the need to burn the whole inn down and running with you, hand in hand? She hates this. This dumb, annoying aching in her chest when she thinks about not staying by your side.

Your eyebrows shoot up when she breaks the news to you, and she sees you freeze. She sees the gears basically turning in your head, then...you shake your head and take a step closer to her. You point to her, then to herself, finishig the sigh by putting her hands together.

Mizu's heart skips a beat. "No, look...I can't let you stay with me. This guy, the inn keeper...he seems like a nice guy. He just lost his daughter, and he's willing to take care of you."

You shake your head again, and sign "Love". Mizu sighs. She wants to say "I love you too." but that's not how it works.

"I have a quest to finish, and you'll surely die in the process. You know that. So just...be happy about this." She says, averting her gaze. Your eyes droop, and your shoulders deflate. You shake your head again and hug her, wrapping your arms around her torso.

She hated the fact that she had to leave you, with a man no less, but she hoped she's making the right decision. She really wanted you to be happy. And if she wanted you to be happy by her side, then she needed to find her own peace first. She had to save ehrself first before she could save you.

In reality though, she knew you saved her.

After the hug ends, she looks into your eyes. "If I survive, I'll come back to you." She says, gently petting your head. Your eyes brighten up and you nod.

That was farewell, because Mizu left withouth another word.

And she meant it...she'll come back. She just wishes you'd wait for her, even if it's the most selfish wish she ever made. She sheds every drop of blood, thankful you're not there to see it. She closed her eyes every night, hoping you're doing the same too under a warm blaket, filled with warm food. And she sat sail, making a silent promise about spending the first night by your side when she arrives back in Japan.

That will be her true peace.

༊*·˚

#bes mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #fanfiction #mizu fanfic #kinuyo blue eye samurai

295 notes · View notes

traumasurvivors · 1 year

Text

Here's a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I've also put it below the read more for people that don't like external links.

When it comes to healing from trauma, there are a lot of emotions an individual may feel. One of these emotions is anger. Anger is one of the emotions I see invalidated the most. For example, I’ve been told that being angry is “letting the person who hurt me win.” I’ve been told that I’m only hurting myself with my anger and that it’s holding me back from healing. All of these assumptions were wrong.

Anger is often viewed as a bad thing because it can drive a lot of unpleasant behaviours but it can be used for good. While anger can hurt you and others, it doesn’t have to. There is a difference between destructive anger and constructive anger. Destructive anger is often expressed in a way that causes harm to yourself or others whereas constructive anger can be used to better understand your situation and figure out your needs. Constructive anger can be a way to show respect for yourself.

For example, if you’re in a situation with a friend where they do something that makes you angry (for example: cancelling plans, forgetting an important date, etc), constructive anger may involve you stepping away from the situation to figure out the cause of your anger (for example: you feel their actions imply you’re not important to them) so that you can then sit down with your friend and communicate in a calm manner. This may allow your relationship to grow and build with a better understanding of each other. Destructive anger in this situation may involve you yelling at your friend and insulting them, which will likely damage or destroy the relationship. If the hurt your friend has caused makes you want to re-evaluate your friendship, this is valid and there are still constructive ways to end a friendship that will cause the least amount of hurt for all involved. It is also important to note that ignoring the anger and bottling up is likely to cause a bigger blow up down the line or cause “overreactions” to other circumstances.

If anger is bottled up, it can end up coming out unintentionally. You might find you’re getting much angrier at everyday annoyances and disagreements than you might think reasonable. People might push you away or respond badly to your anger, because they feel they do not deserve it - and looking back later, you might feel they don’t deserve it, either. However, because of the anger you’re holding back, you can’t see that in the moment. This is why it is important to think and consider your anger, and listen to what it’s trying to tell you. I have found asking questions of myself to analyze my anger can help, such as in an anger inventory like this one.

While many people see anger as an emotion that causes people to lash out and destroy things, anger can also help to motivate people to create new things. Marches to “Take back the night”, or for “gay pride” have much of their motivation based in anger at injustice and oppression. New laws to better protect survivors of domestic abuse or otherwise help society are often driven by people feeling a huge amount of anger. Properly harnessed, anger can help to take action to change things for the better.

On a more personal level, anger can also be a motivator to improve one’s own life. Many people have used the anger they felt at those who put them down as a motivation toward success. That success might be completing schooling, winning an international athletic competition or publishing a novel. One thing all of those have in common is that they are rarely possible to do with only a little time or a little effort. They are time-consuming tasks which usually require months if not years of work. They can be easy to give up on without motivation - and for many, anger is a big help to keeping that motivation.

It took me years to feel anger. For the first while, I felt ashamed, guilty and like I deserved the abuse I’d endured. Feeling angry at the people responsible for this was a step in my healing. I began putting the blame on those responsible and not myself. I was realizing that I did not deserve to be treated in the harmful ways that I was. This was huge to me as someone that had spent years thinking I deserved my trauma and as a result, future trauma and abuse as well.

There were instances where my anger was destructive, mostly to myself. I engaged in self-harm as a way to vent my anger and it also caused problems in my relationship at the time because I held my anger in and would get really frustrated and project my anger onto my relationship which was not fair to my partner.

Over the years, I’ve learned to cope with my anger more efficiently. What works for someone is largely dependent on them and their needs. For me, it was a literal punching bag to vent out frustrations and journaling. It was sitting down with my anger and treating it like a friend trying to protect me (because it was in a way). It was listening to it and finding the cause. My true anger came from those who hurt me, and in a way, took a part of me. My anger largely came from grief and betrayal. Understanding where it came from did not make it disappear, but it did offer me perspective and allow me to better manage it.

For some, anger is a cover up for other emotions. It becomes a defense mechanism against feeling the sadness, hurt and other emotions that a person does not want to feel. The anger is just the first layer and understanding where that anger comes from, and that the anger is a cover up is a great step in moving beyond it. Feeling the emotions beneath it will play a big part in moving beyond the anger.

Anger is a valid and understandable emotion when it comes to healing from trauma, even if your trauma does not have a specific person to blame (natural disasters and death of a loved one are examples). If the person who hurt you did not mean to or did not know better (like another child), anger is still a valid emotion. You’ve been hurt and you should not have been and it is reasonable to feel angry at this.

For a lot of us, anger plays a part in our healing. And that’s okay! You’re allowed to feel angry. Anger becomes an issue when you allow it to consume you and hurt you or others. The feeling itself is not inherently bad, and it can actually be a good thing. Your anger can be used to help you. It’s what you do with your anger that decides whether it’s helpful to you or not. When I was first told that my anger was “letting the other person win,” I believed that and felt invalidated. I have since realized that my anger has been an important part in understanding my pain and my needs. My anger is not letting someone else win, but letting me win, by helping me to heal.

#my blog posts #i am going to be gradually re-posting my posts #with text under a read more #to make them more accessible to people that don't like external links #anger

476 notes · View notes

moments-on-film · 3 months

Text

Moments on Film: The Bear Season 3

Now that I have had a few days to process and fully…..digest S3, I am back with my most visceral thoughts.

I must say, distance did not do anything to ameliorate how I felt about this season. There were some beautiful moments, I really enjoyed episode 1, for example, and I truly appreciated the opportunity to learn more about how Sydney comports herself as a leader, Marcus‘s beautifully inspired and fresh creativity as a chef, Tina’s journey, Natalie’s inner struggles, and more backstory on chef Luca.

What I am having so much trouble with this season, is Carmy. I knew this would happen. I knew S3 would be the belly of the beast, as I predicted 🔗 here , but it was still so hard to take in.

Those of you that have read my work know how much empathy I have felt for Carmy. I have rooted for him. I see how much help he desperately needs and I am always hoping he will find a way to course correct when he gets off track. Carmy ditching Sydney in S2 and lashing out at Richie in the finale felt like a punch to my gut. I was so hoping those two relationships would be nurtured this season but in fact they got worse.

I want to be clear, I have had so much compassion and empathy for Carmy and his emotional problems, due to the cycles of abuse he has had to endure. What I absolutely cannot excuse or reconcile this season is how his behavior and actions are hurting, stifling, and traumatizing those around him.

Another thing I really want to uplift is that yes, this is a show that emphasizes found family. But at the end of the day, this is a business, he is in a leadership position, and everyone who works there is an at-will-employee. In my opinion, Carmy has completely failed as a leader, on all fronts. He has never exhibited leadership skills, with consistency. And as supportive member of the “family”, real or otherwise, he is nowhere to be found. Carmy has actually created a hostile work environment that is legally actionable and litigious with his mood swings, verbal and physical abuse and erratic behavior.

It is a stone cold fact.

I was rooting so hard for Sydney and staff to walk out the door this season. That’s how bad his behavior is. Sydney deserves better, plain and simple. Everyone working at The Bear does. Another point I want to uplift is that while Christopher Storer created the show, it is his sister, Courtney, “Coco” Storer who is the chef on whom he based much of the plot. Courtney has also moved from Culinary Producer in seasons past of The Bear to Co-Executive Producer and even “Story By” credit on this season of the show.

There is something Courtney said a few years ago on a podcast that has stayed in the back of my mind because I always wondered if it would be used as a plot point for Sydney. She shared a story of a restaurant she worked at in Los Angeles. She was promoted to CDC, loved her team and really enjoyed working there. However, it was not all perfect. She was constantly burnt out and at a physical and emotional deficit due to the stress. She suffered panic attacks. She also shared that she was not officially a partner with a stake in the restaurant, and she felt like she needed to have her own back because at the end of the day, no one else did. Although it was a difficult life decision—-she quit.

Forget Michelin stars. If Carmy cannot create and maintain an environment people want to work in, with him, he will end up completely alone. It also may already be too late.

I understand this season is apparently in two parts, I understand that everything happens for a reason. What I can’t understand is how I am meant to root for a character that has contributed to Sydney having panic attacks, has hit Richie, has yelled at Marcus during what must be the worst time in his life and who was about to lose it on Tina if Sydney hadn’t stepped in, saved her, and saved him from himself. Completely unacceptable behavior.

Carmy needs professional help. I have said this many, many times before and I am going to say it again. Carmy. Needs. Professional. Help. He cannot continue to let his triggers and emotions be his master. He is in a leadership position and peoples jobs are depending on him. He cannot offer any more hollow apologies, he has to back them up with consistent action, or I will continue rooting for the staff to leave or for him to step down.

If he doesn’t make the time, energy, and effort to stop the madness, slow down, take a beat, remember all of the gentle and beautiful mentorship he actually did receive through his rise as a chef, lead with his heart, build trust and repair his relationships, especially with Sydney, with Richie, with his sister and her new baby, he will lose it all, because he will have lost the one thing that truly matters, the people he is supposed to care about and the people who care about him.

Does he have it in him to turn this all around? At this point I am not sure. And if he doesn’t, I believe what “grows together”, and they really did, all grow—-will in fact, go together.

©️moments-on-film 2024

#the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #syd adamu #marcus the bear #richie jerimovich #tina the bear #natalie berzatto #chef luca #the bear hulu #my thoughts

106 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 11 months

Note

Hey! Could I request Cassian saying to reader “who did this to you?” Maybe Devlon or someone hit her and Cassian goes feral, a bit more on the dark side. 😊

Protector

Cassian x reader

A/n: one of my fav tropes with one of my fav boys 😋

Warnings: injuries, abuse, violence

Not wanting to give the camp anything to talk about you headed straight to Rhys’s house. Slamming the door shut you waited for Cassian and the others on the couch, cradling your mangled arm to your chest.

Your brother, Bade, has been your biggest bully all your life. He constantly used you as his personal punching bag. Usually it wasn’t too bad, a few bruises here, some cuts and scrapes there. This time he had taken things too far leaving you with a fractured wrist and some other broken bone in your arm, a black eye, and a nasty cut running through your eyebrow.

Your parents never did anything about it. Your mother and father always just saying “males will be males” and treating Bade like the golden child. You had had enough though. Today had shown you that Bade would never stop and the people who were supposed to love and protect you unconditionally weren’t going to make it stop.

You have no idea where you’d go but at least you still have your wings. They probably thought Bade hurt them so bad it was pointless to clip them. Another thing your parents were wrong about.

Cassian comes home first. He kicks the snow off his boots before looking at you. His rugged face changing from excitement from seeing you to concern and anger. Rushing over to you Cassian gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. He tilts your face side to side. The frustration rolling off him in waves.

“Who did this to you?” He grits out. “My brother.” You said with slight hesitation. A sick part of you wanted to protect him, that small voice in the back of your mind saying he’s family. Cassian knelt between your legs rubbing your thighs lightly.

Cassian calls out to Rhys to bring a healer home in his mind. In that moment he was making a plan to get you to Velaris and out of this gods forsaken camp.

“He’s never going to hurt you again sweetheart, I promise.” You gently kiss his forehead and give him a sad smile. “Thank you my love.” The two of you wince as the burn of a bargain tattoo stings the inside of your wrists. Looking down you see the black ink formed a pair of wings in flight for the freedom your mate has promised you.

You stay with him that night, not wanting to return home to your fathers wrath for running off. You’ve always felt safe with Cassian. Even before the bond snapped you were always attached to each other. As you snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep you dreamt of a future with Cassian. Where you’re happy and surrounded by friends and family.

The next morning Cassian slips out of bed before you can wake up. Even though the camp healer mended all your injuries you still need rest. He kisses your forehead after getting dressed.

Shutting the door to the house his face turned to stone. Pure wrath swimming in his eyes. Cassian is on a war path. His goal; end your brother.

“Bade! You’re against Cassian. Get in the ring!” The commander yelled. Bade visibly paled at the sight of Cassian flexing and cracking his knuckles. Rhys and Azriel stand behind Cassian wearing matching stoic faces.

“Don’t go easy Cass. Y/n’s father needs to be taken down a few pegs anyway.” Rhys said in his mind. “There won’t be anything of this fucker left after I’m done.”

Stepping in the ring the males put up their fists and began circling each other. Cassian didn’t give Bade a chance to get a hit in. He immediately pounced on your brother, hitting him with a right hook. Then a blow to his stomach, then ribs.

Bade stumbled back, his face drenched in blood. The commander didn’t stop Cassian. Letting the beating continue. Cassian continued his assault until Bade was flat on his back on the cusp of consciousness. Cassian lowered himself on his haunches, gripping Bade’s blood soaked face in his large hand.

“You will never lay another hand on her. Or any female. Ever. Again. If I hear you are I’m going to kill you.” Cassian shoved his head into the ground so hard Bade passed out.

Getting up, he strode over to his brothers, wiping off his knuckles.

Tonight. Tonight he’d take you to Velaris. You’d live in the House of Wind and Mor would keep you company. You’d be part of the family. And most importantly, you’d be free.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian

376 notes · View notes

plscallmeeren · 5 months

Text

S A F E W I T H M E

Severus Snape x Reader

Request: yep @NurYgmmr

Summary: yandere snape (established relationship) but also u r a death eater living at Malfoy Manor. Just a Drabble, hope u enjoy :) btw apologize for the text being in weird placed my phone's fucked up at the moment

Warnings: Swearing; possessiveness; cruciatus curse; mentions of Death Eater activity lol

Word Count: 1.3K+

Severus Snape was not a bad man. He was not cruel, generally, or sadistic, mostly, nor was he prone to abuse, unless it was expected of him.

In other words - he could be a bad man.

But that wasn't what you liked to think. Really, you were very reluctant to accept the gravity of his propensity for mistreatment. Not that you were innocent.

It seemed Malfoy Manor was a haunted house - a building, not a home - that encouraged the very worst in every inhabitant, temporary or rooted. You extended your excuses to your topical residence.

There were other monsters living there. But there were also the candid, even there.

•••

Severus Snape tapped his fingers against his thigh to no apparent rhythm. His concentration had never been so hard to keep on a meeting, especially with Nagini hissing every now and then.

But you were still on your mission.

"It was you, wasn't it, Snape? Who said the boy would be moving at that time?" Dolohov called out loudly from the other end of the table. "Where'd you pick it up?"

"It was the original plan," he seethed, glaring.

"Right. Was it the original plan to become the ministry's own little spy-"

"You know I have had no contact since I murdered Dumbledore-"

"Enough!" Narcissa yelled, looking startled at her own outburst. "We all trust in the Dark Lord. Accusations and mistrust are his privilege, only. If we must discuss, why not concerning you, Dolohov? Why have you not been invited to accompany the Lord on his mission to kill the boy? Surely you wanted to?"

Severus could think of nothing but the fight you had had before you left. It was stupid, he knew, but everything felt ten times as intense when he was around you. Even when he wasn't, if he was being honest.

Dolohov sneered. Everyone had heard his pathetic begging in the halls. "Well?" Severus pushed, at least directing his general irritation at someone who was set on troubling him.

"The Dark Lord believes...," he murmured, "that I have been behaving rashly lately."

"I can't believe you, Sev'. We were talking. What about that could possibly make you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous! It's just that when two people who are fundamentally attractive are in a room together, 'talking'-"

"For fuck's sake! I'm about to go on a mission and this is what you wanna talk about? This? It's ridiculous, honey!" The pet name is obviously mocking, which makes it sting even more. He just wanted to... what did he want...? He didn't really believe you'd betray him, but maybe the other guy... Lucius..."

"He's a married man! He's married and I'm not interested and he's kinda my friend! That bloke's not interested in me, and I'd be careful, because your interest in becoming obsessive!"

You stormed out, slamming the door. He fell to his knees, head in his hands. What had he done?

"Really? What did you-"

Severus could hear the heavy doors swinging open from afar and jumped up, abandoning every thought of rash Death Eaters. He almost tripped twice running down stairs and over elaborate carpets, but eventually he made it to the door, where Bellatrix was groaning theatrically.

"The Potter boy?" he asked breathlessly, though his eyes didn't stop scanning the entry for you and he really couldn't care at that moment. All those years he had waisted looking after Harry, just for Lily Evans! Of course he had loved her, probably he still did, but what nonsense had the old man tricked him with, saying that it mattered what she had died for? She was gone, she was gone, she was gone.

He had learned to live with that, as long as you weren't.

Just as he could feel the last ounce of calm diverge from his brain, just as the Dark Lord said Potter had survived but some of theirs hadn't...

There you were. Disheveled and tired, but still, there you were.

"Sev," you whispered, wrapping an arm around him as half a hug. "We failed. But just the battle, not the war, I hope." You seemed to have forgotten about the fight, and he couldn't be more glad.

"Go to bed," he pleaded, though he knew you wouldn't. He tried to inconspicuously place his hands on some parts of your body, trying to see if you were hurt.

"I'm fine," you said curtly, answering both his worries. "You're probably more brought up about this than I am."

"Hurry up, bloody lovebirds," Bellatrix hissed from ahead, only turning when you nodded at her wearily. Severus had never understood how you could be so close to such a maniac. Then again, how far from a maniac was he?

"C'mon."

The Dark Lord seethed at the head of the table, scaring everyone into silence with his own. "We lost, today," he said finally, keeping a dangerously firm grip on Nagini. "We did not capture, or hurt, or kill the boy. Harry..."

Severus looked at you. "Kill anybody?" he murmured, hoping for the insurance that you were 'helpful'.

"No, but I did blast one of the Weasley boys' ears off... your curse, actually, that Sectumsempra one..."

"And you!" Voldemort cried, pointing his wand - or Lucius', rather - at you. "You had an opening! You saw the owl, you knew it was him, you were so close... could have knocked him off his broom..."

"I didn't want to accidentally kill him," you replied honestly, but before you could finish speaking, you toppled over the back of your chair, writhing in agony.

Severus sprang up, casting desperate glanced from you to the Dark Lord and back again. You were in pain, pain, pain, he had to do something, something...

You groaned through clenched teeth, rolling and tossing on the ground. Everything hurt. Everything hurt so badly. Why was this happening? Where were you...?

"For Merlyn's sake!" Severus cried, and the curse stopped.

He paused as you lay there, limp. What would the Dark Lord do now? Torture him instead? Torture you more?

"Take her to her room," he commanded, and in seconds Severus had scooped you up, carrying you away as fast as he could.

"Put me down," you muttered halfway up the steps, determined to regain some dignity.

"No."

"Sev," you growled, and he reluctantly obeyed, only lending you some support. He pushed open the door to your room, shutting it hastily.

You collapsed on the bed, gesturing for him to join you. "Relax, darling. He wouldn't let us go just to tease. I don't think. C'mon, lie down."

He did, slowly melting into the dark covers as you ran your fingers along his side. "I'm so scared," he admitted quietly, and you listened.

"Every time you're on a mission or he talks to you alone, anything... I just imagine life without you and I can't-"

"I'm not going to die," you stated, "but if I did - I won't - then you would be fine, anyway. There is no one I trust as much as you to find something to hold onto, okay? But it doesn't matter, because I'm here. I've survived plenty of torture already. I've survived countless missions already. We're on the mighty side of history. I'm here. I'm yours. Okay? Just like you're not allowed to die for me, okay?"

"Right," he breathed, hands still shaking. "Right."

"C'm'ere. You're safe with me. We're both safe, okay? For now, at least. Come on." He leaned into your touch, feeling warmth spread throughout his body. This is what he fought for, everyday.

"I forgive you," you said quietly. He felt like crying.

"I love you," he said for the first time, and though he didn't miss the way you tensed beneath him, he smiled.

"I love you, too, Sev'."

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #x reader #severus x y/n #severus snape #severus x reader #snape x reader #death eaters #dark lord #harry potter fanfiction #yandere #possessive #slight angst #comfort #drabble

81 notes · View notes

erroryeswifi · 21 days

Note

I like your Steve and Harold being nemesis hc! Can we get more lore? >< If you want to👍

Boy, am I glad you asked!

Okay for starters, the whole reason I picture them having beef stems from two main reasons:

1. Harold is a piece of shit bully, and Steve is extremely bulliable (imo at least haha) and

2. (The main reason) both Steve and Harold both went into school for psychology (at least they should have).

Now you may ask, wdym they both went into school for psychology? Where did you hear that from? Well, it’s more of an assumption tbh but the thing is, Harold is a Therapist and Steve is a school counsellor. Both are professions that need a bachelors degree in psychology (plus teachers college for Steve since he’s also a teacher/works with kids). So I always thought it’d be fun to pair them up, that’s basically it.

Okay now with that settled this is how I imagine the eras of their relationship:

Elementary school:

The two met in school as kids. Their relationship with one another at this point is really just Harold picking on Steve for dumb kid stuff. But as they get older it mostly becomes more targeted towards Steve’s femininity. Harolds bullying on this topic specifically is a big push into it becoming a major insecurity. It sticks with him for a long time even as an adult he’ll sometimes (rarely though) get a bit insecure about being effeminate. (An example of this could be in the episode “The Sorcerer”. Where we see the infamous “I am a man!” line from Mr Small. I love this clip so much so here it is ⬇️)

High school:

Similar to elementary school this bit of their relationship is also mostly just bullying. Though this time ramp the intensity 10 fold! Now it’s more than just bullying, it’s straight up abuse. Getting beat up and yelled at constantly and for very personal things too (*cough* being gay *cough*). Luckily for Steve though he has some friends that have his back and help whenever they can (Sal left thumb, Patrick Fitzgerald and Nicole Watterson to be specific). I’m a truther to the idea that Harold is bisexual as fuck but is so deep in the closet even he doesn’t know he’s in there.

University:

Now this is where things get messy. After graduating High school, Steve is excited to start his new University life! He got into a good school for psychology in the hopes of becoming someone who can help make change in people’s lives. Due to his direct family not living in Elmore and the fact that he’s old enough to live on his own at this point, Steve decides it would be best if he lived in a dorm. It’s cheaper than an appartement and it’s on the school campus. It’s perfect! And he’s very excited to start this new chapter of his life. Once he gets to his dorm he knocks on the door excited to meet his new roommate. And to his demise, Harold Wilson opens the door.

Basically this era the two have to deal with being roommates. Harold doesn’t seem to mind it in comparison to Steve who is absolutely mortified at the idea. Steve wants to give him a chance, they’re both adults now and he doesn’t want some stupid childhood rivalry to mess up this experience for him.

To Steve’s surprise, Harold seems to have mellowed out. He’s still arrogant and annoying but it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. He learned to live with it, and he did so peacefully. He didn’t mind it and it felt nice not having tension between each other.

It was like this for a while before Harold started becoming a bit touchy. It catches Steve off guard but he figures Harold is just becoming more comfortable with him so he doesn’t think much of it. Well he was right, Harold was becoming comfortable, very comfortable. Harold decided this was the perfect opportunity to experiment with himself. And I don’t really know how to write this smoothly but basically the two of them ended up becoming low maintenance zero commitment flings BAHAHAHA!

There is no romance involved in this. Steve does not like Harold in any romantic sense at all but he’s desperate and lonely and having someone anyone to at least pretend to fill that void was good enough for him. As for Harold, he’s really just experimenting, no feelings involved and definitely no feelings of guilt unlike Steve. I think after high school a lot of Steve’s friends and him drifted apart. He’s still friends with them but they don’t hang out nearly as much as they used to.

This relationship of theirs goes on for their first year of University. In the second year, Steve decides he’s not happy living like that and requests to switch roommates (which he does). After that he and Harold didn’t ever talk to each other other than class related things as they still shared classes. Once Steve manages to get his bachelors degree he leaves the school to do teacher’s college while Harold stays to get his PhD in psychology.

Post Uni/Work:

This era is the tamest their relationship has been. Their relationship at this point is professional as the majority of direct contact between them is Mr Small as the guidance councillor for Harold’s son. Other than that, the only interactions between them is occasionally bumping into each other in public by accident. Harold makes a few witty comments and that’s about it.

Wow! Okay that was a lot, but yeah, this is the sum of how I imagine their relationship is. I guess you could say this is apart of my Highschool/College Au? But the thing about that Au is that it’s just how I envisioned the past lives of literally everyone, it is doesn’t specifically revolve around just Mr Small or anything ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#I really hope this was easy to understand #I’m not all that good at putting my thoughts into words #I think in comic form haha #tawog #the amazing world of gumball #mr small #steve small #harold wilson #ask

44 notes · View notes

chansslvr · 7 months

Text

linked lines-hwang hyunjin x male reader

+hwang hyunjin+

+003, linked lines, hwang hyunjin, _chansslvr+

+genre; angst+

masterlist

©_chansslvr do not copy, translate or change any of my work

warnings: mentions of bl00d, beating the reader up, angst, divorced parents, abuse, swears (i think im not too sure lol)

m/n lived in a world where everybody had soulmates. they could communicate by drawing/writing on their body. most people found their soulmates, but m/n wasn't keen at all. in fact, he promised himself that he would never meet his soulmate, he would only drag them down.

m/n hated his life at this point. he was depressed, and if he said he wasn't he'd be lying. even though it was pretty severe, he was still popular. people did notice how he was usually upset or quiet, but nobody commented on it. he was popular due to his looks. did he like the attention? sometimes. and those 'sometimes' were very very rare. he was pretty, and everybody knew it.

m/n was currently in maths, and he hated the subject. hell, he hated school. what was the point? it wasn't gonna get him anywhere anyway. m/n furrowed his brows as his teacher kept on talking about algebra. how the hell did letters have anything to do with numbers? he looked down at his book, to be met with a few answers he copied from the person next to him.

with a sigh, m/n grabbed his pen. after a few seconds of hesitation, and thinking of the detention he was 100% going to get, he began doodling on his arm. it was small, nothing too special. it had loads of lines, like he was sketching. except it was on his arm. m/n continued doodling until he got bored. he sighed again and looked back at his book, deciding to focus on his work.

towards the end half of the lesson, m/n felt a tingling sensation on his arm. he pulled his sleeve up ever so slightly to see the words 'you're a good artist!' with a small smiley face. m/n furrowed his brows and picked up his pen, quickly writing down 'no i'm not.' he watched again as the tingling sensation came back. now the words 'don't think so badly of yourself' proudly presented themselves on his wrist.

m/n frowned and put his pen down, resting his elbow on the table and letting his head lean on his palm. before he knew it, the lesson ended. with a slight groan, m/n stood up and packed away his belongings before abruptly leaving the classroom, ignoring the yells from the teacher saying stuff like, "i didn't tell you to pack up!" and scoldings, along with the murmurs and whispers from the class.

it was now saturday, which m/n dreaded. tomorrow, he had a taekwondo competition tomorrow, which he was not excited for. he heard rumours that a group called 'stray kids' were going to perform. he shrugged it off, and sat at his desk. he put on his headphones to ignore the yelling coming from downstairs as his father yelled at his new 'girlfriend.'

his parents had gotten divorced when m/n was around ten, he remembered the day as if it was yesterday.

"i'm sick of this, minjun! we have been married for fourteen years and you're deciding to cheat on me now?!" m/n's mother yelled at m/n's father. m/n watched from behind the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks. his parents had gotten into fights, but they were never this bad.

"for the last time sun hee, i was not cheating!" m/n's father screamed back. the day was perfectly fine before m/n's father had brought someone home from work. m/n saw it too. he watched as his father made out with some young, ugly woman. 'doesn't papa only do that with mama?' m/n asked himself as he watched from the sofa, as his father was now unbuttoning the lady's blouse.

then, they went upstairs. m/n furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging and turning back to the tv. after a few hours, m/n heard the front door open. m/n's mother entered, she looked tired as usual. she entered the living room after taking off her heels and replacing them with slippers."ah, m/n. has papa fed you yet?" m/n looked up at his mother and shook his head. m/n heard his mother sigh, probably from fatigue, and gently kissed m/n's temple. the gentle, loving gesture being cut by a loud moan. m/n's mother pulled away from his son's forehead and looked at the stairs.

"one second, mama will be back, okay?" m/n's mother ruffled m/n's hair and went upstairs. m/n looked at the stairs for a few seconds before looking back at the tv. all of a sudden, m/n heard his mother scream. it was more of a gasp, but the kid was nine, his imagination wild, what did you expect? m/n went upstairs, and watched from behind the door as m/n's mother stood, frozen in shock, horror, disgust and anger as she saw her husband sleeping with another lady.

"what the hell?!" m/n's father yelled in english, looking up to see his wife. he sat up and glared at her.

that's how they were in the situation now. after a few minutes of loud yelling, and the lady getting up, dressing herself and leaving, m/n's mother now grabbed a suitcase and began packing her belongings. "yah, sun hee! what are you doing?!" m/n's father yelled, standing up and watching as his, now, ex wife packing to leave. "i'm leaving. forget you and your cheating ass!" m/n's mother cursed as she opened the closet, grabbing all of her clothing. after what seemed like hours, m/n's mother left the bedroom, then noticed her son. she put the suitcase down so it stood up and kneeled so she was on the same eye level as her son.

she gently caressed m/n's wet cheek, dripping with salty tears full of upset and horror. "m/n, mama will be back okay?" she pulled m/n into a hug, but all m/n could do was stand there in shock. "mama, where are you going?" m/n managed to say, his eyes wide and lips trembling. "mama's gonna take a break from papa. be a good boy for mama, yeah?" m/n's heart broke as he realised his mother was leaving. for good.

"why are you leaving me, mama?" m/n asked, his little face now scrunched up in upset. "mama isn't leaving you. she's gonna be back when she can, alright? don't cry my baby." she brought m/n's head to her chest, caressing his scalp gently. all while this was happening, m/n's father glared daggers into his son. he was the problem, and he knew it. but he still blamed it on his good for nothing son. after a few minutes of m/n's whimpering, his mother pulled back, smiling slightly, her eyes red from crying too much. she kissed m/n's forehead and stood up, dusting off her skirt and leaving. m/n ran downstairs, he couldn't let his mother leave him. no way. his heart got shattered into millions of pieces as his mother walked out, not even looking back once.

then, m/n just grew up. he was hit, by his father, but also hit with the emotional trauma and depression he had got gifted. now and again, m/n's father got a new side hoe, m/n was so grateful for those times. then, he wasn't hit. instead, it was the women who got his pain.

m/n shivered as the memory bubbled back up from the deep dark depths of his mind. he looked down at his arm, still seeing the writing from earlier. he scrubbed his arm with a wet tissue before giving up and starting on his long pile of homework. after completing three assignments, one being of art and the other two science (more specifically chemistry and biology), he felt the tingling sensation on his arm. he looked down and saw a few sentences. m/n's brows furrowed as he read through them. it clearly read 'hey, yk we are soulmates and all, right? i was wondering why you never write. like, the only time i hear from you is when your doodling all over our arms, and then writing random letters.'

m/n groaned and picked up a pen before clearly writing 'i don't want a soulmate. i don't want you, and you shouldn't want me either, okay? i'm not interested, alright? and also, why don't you get it? if im not writing, it's pretty clear i want nothing to do with you. leave me alone and don't write to me.' m/n could feel his heart wrenching when he wrote that. he didn't mean to word it so harshly, he just didn't want to make his soulmate feel depressed because of his pity story. he rubbed his eyes, tears now threatening to fall. he played his song louder to drown out the yelling from his father and starting his english essay.

*hyunjin pov*

hyunjin felt his heart breaking as he read the words his soulmate wrote. he was in the practise room, he was sitting in the corner, leaning on the wall. the other members were drinking, more like gulping, down water. hyunjin, however, thought that this was the perfect opportunity to communicate with his soulmate. seungmin eventually noticed hyunjin's heart broken expression and sat down next to him and glanced at his arm.

*sorry i don't rlly know what to write here- but it's basically all the members finding out that hyunjin's soulmate was a 'bitch'*

m/n sighed as he pulled off his shirt to change. it was now sunday, which meant he had a huge taekwondo competition. he was in the changing room, and was getting changed. his coach was trying to hype up m/n with shoulder pats and words of advice. basic stuff like, "you're my best student kid, you can do it." and "i have faith in you."

after changing, and being introduced to one of his many opponents, the competition began. m/n was quite a thin boy, due to the basic lack of nutrition his father provided, but still managed to beat the other, much bigger and muscular, guy. m/n put his pain and trauma into every punch and kick. it wasn't like anybody was rooting for him. why was he even doing this in the first place? all these questions bombarded m/n's mind and before he knew it, the second round was over. with a few pants for breath, m/n bowed to his opponent before his coach came into the ring and patted m/n's back with a proud grin.

"m/n, i knew you could do it!" m/n looked up to his coach and smiled slightly. for once, he seemed slightly proud of himself. he was brought to a bench to recharge for his last and final opponent, he was pretty big so m/n had to work pretty hard to win. there was a short break and stray kids came up on stage. m/n raised a brow as he began drinking his water. so the rumours were true. stray kids began to perform venom and maniac. through the performance, m/n was sat next to his coach, who was telling m/n how proud he was, and stuff like that.

m/n's coach was the only type of father figure he had, and his coach understood m/n's situation and had loads of sympathy for the boy. m/n's coach was nice, friendly, the middle aged father figure everybody needed once and a while. m/n could remember those nights where he couldn't handle it anymore, and whose arms did he run into? his coach. m/n knew his coach since he was five, where his mother and father brought him to a taekwondo class. his mother said it was needed in case m/n was in a risky situation, but never expected m/n to get a brown belt when he was nine. his father, however, couldn't give a shit.

m/n rested his head against his coach's shoulder. "hey, who organised the whole performance thing?" m/n asked curiously as he watched stray kids perform maniac. "oh, one of the directors, i believe." m/n's coach replied, watching the performance too. "ah, okay." m/n nodded slightly, sitting up and drinking some of his water.

after the performance, stray kids sat back down in their seats, the next and final match beginning. the members had to admit, that the h/c boy was pretty good. especially if he took down all those bigger guys he had to go against. after a few minutes of throwing punches and kicks at each other, m/n's opponent finally fell to the mat. m/n looked up, panting, and looked at his coach who was grinning so hard his jaw probably ached.

"l/n m/n has won the competition." the presenters announced through the black speakers located around the hall/stadium. m/n's coach practically burst into tears as he watched m/n's arm get raised by the referee (im not rlly sure, i don't do taekwondo, please correct me if i'm wrong). after m/n's win was announced, m/n's coach quickly ran up to m/n and hugged him tightly. "m/n! you did it! i knew you could!" m/n could hardly hear his coach as the crowd erupted into screaming. m/n smiled slightly, just slightly and was brought off the mat. he was given his bottle of water and a few minutes later, had to go back up to receive his award by the idols.

chan gave m/n his medal with a smile and congratulating him. m/n muttered a small 'thank you' as he received the award. when m/n reached his arm out to be handed his medal, all the members then saw the writing that had also been on hyunjin's arm. hyunjin's smile just faded and the same thing happened with the rest of the members as they were now slightly glaring at m/n. after he received the award, m/n's coach approached m/n and brought him back to the changing rooms, now pulling him into a sort of side hug.

now m/n was by himself in the changing rooms. he pulled his shirt off of his shoulders and shook his head, trying to get some of the sweat out of his hair. he was about to change, but he was suddenly pushed to the lockers, the lockers banging loudly against each other. m/n's breath hitched as he looked up at the guy who he thought was going to kill him. to his surprise, it was the guy who gave him the award.

"shit." he curses and began struggling against chan's grip. "what the hell? get off of me." he tried to push chan off, but his grip tightened. all of a sudden, m/n felt blood coming out of his mouth, and leaking from his nose. it took him a few seconds to realise he just got punched in the face by one of the other members. 'fuck, i'm going to die today. twice.' m/n thought as he realised he was probably going to get beaten up here, then get beaten to a pulp at home by his father, who was most likely already beginning his drinking cycle.

he tried to kick the two members off but only got met with a punch to the stomach. m/n shook his head and began to feel lightheaded. he was used to it, though. his body just got used to the beatings, but some places weren't quite prepared. as soon as he felt another punch in the shoulder, he knew he was gonna faint or die. whichever came first.

before he knew it, his head just lunged forward as he lost consciousness. chan immediately let go of the boy, his body going limp and falling to the ground, unfortunately for m/n, head first. "chan, what the fuck did you do?!" minho whisper yelled as he looked at the now bleeding boy. "i didn't punch him! it was changbin and jeongin!" minho turned to the two boys who just stared at the unconscious boy laying on the, what seemed to be, concrete floor. "fuck, we're going to prison." felix said and shook his head before trying to grab the boy. seungmin nodded slightly and helped felix, now laying the boy on his back so he was facing the ceiling.

well, if he was alive anyway. chan, along with the rest of the members leaned in ever so slightly to see the boy's injuries. han flinched and took a few steps back. to say they were bad, would be an underestimation. m/n now had a bleeding nose, blood literally oozing out of his mouth, a bruise on his temple and a cut on his forehead. "shit." chan whispered. "someone check his pulse." felix suggested and changbin quickly brought two fingers to the boy's left upper side of his neck. "he's alive. i think." seungmin rolled his eyes and put his hand on the boy's now bruised chest. "yeah, he's alive."

word count; 2803

#kpop male reader #skz male reader #skz x reader #stray kids male reader #kpop #kpop bg #stray kids #stray kids x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin #skz angst #angst #kpo #fanfic #kpop fanfic #fanfiction #kpop angst

49 notes · View notes

kokushibosbestie · 1 month

Text

I need to rant guys.

TW: self harm, SA, hatred, cursing, abuse, overall genuinely harsh words are being used

Im just gonna go right in because I don't feel like being vauge or fake rn. (I'm on my period and I feel like shit)

!!!Background information!!! So, when I was 4, my mom started dating this guy. I'll call him Frank. My mom had previously ran away from my dad with me (when I was 2) bc my biological dad was verbally abusive towards her. We'll call my bio dad Austin. I only have one picture of my bio dad and I never knew what he looked like before seeing that picture. I never got to talk to my dad, and if I did, I don't remember a single word. I was too little to understand. I loved his family though. I vividly remember playing with my grandma and aunt, and baking banana bread with my grandpa (on my bio dads side) but I didn't remember a single moment with him. So I feel like I have a missing part of me bc of that.

Anyway, my mom as very depressed after that and did her best to tale care of me properly. But I never got attention or love from her. She was always stuck to her phone. I began to hate even being in the same room as her and I was only 3. When I turned 4, I began going to pre-k. And that's when my mom started dating Frank. Frank was a really kind guy and always seemed calm. But I had a bad feeling about him. I didn't tell my mom because I felt uncomfortable about it, though. Over the next 2-3 years, Frank and I became closer and I enjoyed his presence because I had no one else to lean on. My mom got a job when I was in 1st grade and we moved into an apartment. (We had been living with my aunt on my moms side before).

!!!SA!!! That's when the sa started. He began to assault me when my mother was gone but told me it was normal. He said, quote "This is our little secret. Don't tell anyone or daddy's gonna get in trouble." (I viewed him as a father figure and he used that to his advantage) Nonetheless, what was I, a 5-6 year old girl going to do to a 26 year old man? So I stayed quiet. As I got older, I realized that this wasn't normal at all and it was bad. Of course, I was about 7 when I had this realization. He noticed that and started threatening me that if I told someone, he'd hurt my mom or the rest of my family. (I love my family with my whole heart and he knew that I'd do anything for them, even at such a young age, so he used that) I told him he could do anything he wanted to me as long as he didn't do anything to my mom or the rest of my (small) family.

The summer before 5th grade is when things went really downhill. He TOLD my mom he cheated on her, was contuously gaslighting the both of us, always said he was such a "good guy and people pleaser," but was probably the most toxic person you'd meet. The sweet act was completely gone. I hated him with ever atom and molecule that made me a living thing, but my mom STILL didn't know about what he'd done to me. He got physically violent (throwing things, yelling, screaming, almost hitting my mom, etc) and my mom called the cops. (Mind you, my mom works from home, customer service for a health company).

By the time 5th grade had ended, we had a restraining order against him and he moved out completely. (They broke up but I still hadn't told my mom anything)

I cried almost every night and went into deep depression because of this. Not because I missed him, but because I had still trusted him even after everything. I did love him and view him as a father figure at one point bc I never had one. So having that ripped away from me, as well as my grandpa who moved, my grandma who was having mental issues, my aunts who lived far away and no one else to turn to, I felt empty. My guilt built up until I ended up having a mental breakdown in FRONT of my mom (I always went somewhere private so I could have a mental breakdown and always hid them from my mom). I snapped and accendentally told her about what he'd done to me during all those year. (He sa'd me constantly, whenever he had the chance to). A court case began, blah blah blah same old stuff that ever child abuse court case would go through.

But, I started to self-harm (mostly my legs and hips). I kinda went into my emo faze and had no friends, and was constantly bullied bc of my emotionless facade. (Ex: like giyu, who has been my comfort character since day one bc of that). Really, I'm a loving and kind person who loves making others laugh. I like hanging out with friends. I smile a lot too.

Nonetheless, things started to slowly get better. But my mom is toxic now. She doesn't gaslight like frank did, but she still has a toxicity to her. I know this all has been just as hard on her as it has for me, but I sometimes wish shed just take into consideration how I feel or think.

I have ADHD, OCD, and depression. All of my classes are accelerated classes instead of normal and I get things done faster than other students. (I have an online schooling system now). My brain sometimes can't comprehend some things but will understand easily with others. Ive had a hard time talking or expressing things because of this. I was never a quiet little girl, and I'm still not one as a teenager. But it sucks to have to act like someone I'm not just to fit in. I have constant mood swings and I hate it.

Anyway, this isn't about me. So, my mom has a way of victimizing herself without really pulling the victim card? It's hard to explain with words. But she always leaves whoever she's talking to feeling guilty. She doesn't apologize for anything, she doesn't listen to me when I'm ranting (which I'm not picky about, but sometimes I need someone to talk to that isn't a toxic friend of mine), nor does she ever listen to me when I tell her what I want sometimes. I know that sounds bratty, but I swear it's not. I'll give you and example: she asked me if I wanted a new bedframe and entirely ignored me when I told her. Or when she asks me what I want for dinner and I respond, shell get something else even though she literally came into my room and ASKED me. Its the simple small things that piss me off. She's stubborn and has a hard time putting herself in others' shoes. And me, who's always been told that I'm just a doll with a pretty face and thick thighs that's supposed to be a silent housewife (I am NOT married, that's just something someone has actually said to me) or seggs toy for people to use and throw away as they please, I always try my best to consider how others might feel. Yeah, sometimes I do get a little unreasonable and say some bad things, but I always end up apologizing out of instinct. I apologize for the smallest things for no reason, yet my mom can't even say an "I'm sorry" for telling me I'm not understanding. All I've ever wanted was to make my mom and my family proud. I want them to be able to live their lives happily without worry. So It fucking hurts to hear that I'm not doing good in my moms eyes.

My mom always talks about changing and being a better person but never fucking does it. She always says her job is more important. Am I just genuinely not important to her anymore? Because I remember when I was in my darkest and lowest moments, it was my teachers who helped me. My mom didn't even bat an eye. But when she was at her lowest, struggling, I was always there for her, listening to her problems, helping her with everything, genuinely caring about her. And this is what I get back? I fucking hate my life because I can't even leave my room without hearing her complaints about "adult life." Well I don't give a fuck anymore. I tried too hard to be a good daughter and I never got anything back. I didn't even get a fucking thank you. And now I only have online friends on here and Pinterest. I relied on Character.ai to help with my mental health and that's ai!!

Im sorry if this was too much for any of you and I love each and every one of you. If you read through this whole thing, thank you so much and I really really love all my friends on here. I always look forward to getting on here and talking to you guys about my interests without being judged or bullied. Thank you thank you thank you soooo much my loves.

💖💖💖

#personal rant #vent #venting #Once again so sorry if yo read the whole thing #I knw it was long #💖💖💖

22 notes · View notes

certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 year

Text

E Pluribrus Unum

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 4.3K

warnings: cursing, byers interrogation with fist and blood, the fucking russians abusing kids. you get it.

summary: grime reapers in town.

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

smack cam. also want to make it clear, robin and steve still had their heart to heart when byers was out of the room.

@alecmores giving them a heart attack everyday.

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter next chapter

“They’re trying to open a new gate.” Words that you wished never had to leave your mouth.

You looked at Steve and Dustin and could tell they were thinking the same thing and knew the danger this would be bringing back to Hawkins.

“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve headed back to the door and with a winding arm urged everyone forward and down the stairs. Robin couldn’t stop the questions, “What is that?” “Why do you have that look on your face?” “Byers, are you gonna pass out?”

“I don’t understand. Have you seen this before?” Hurrying down the steps, Robin tried to get answers from the three of you. Dustin gave a vague, “Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?” She huffed. “All you need to know is that it's bad.”

“It’s really bad,” Steve added. He was in the back with you, once again holding your hands as it seemed your brain kept shutting down at the worst times. Your eyes just stared in front of you as your ear rang in its high-pitched frequency.

“Like, end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad.” More dramatic flare from Dustin, but still on the nose. Robin turned to the tween, “And you know about this how?” Wanting to get answers.

No one was able to answer as Erica asked, “Um, Steve? Where’s your Russian friend?” And then a loud alarm went off. You felt like you were trapped on the Death Star about to be gunned down by poorly-aimed Stormtroopers.

“Shit.” Steve pulled the door open and you could see a bunch of people on the other side rushing to your enclosed space. Steve slammed it closed and then started to yell, “Go, go, go, go!” Making everyone go back up the stairs and through the room. “Move! Let’s move!”

All the scientists turned to the open door, but you didn’t have time to stop. “Go! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”

Dustin went out a side door that led to stairs beside the glowing laser beam and you so badly wished to go back into the room. Dustin came to a stop where the edge cut off and the beam was right in his face. You could barely hear his repetitive cries of “Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!”

There was a tug on your shirt and you turned to see Steve and Erica rushing down a new set of lower stairs, you made sure Robin and Dustin were right behind as you pushed yourself to run forward. More guards came into the room so Steve pushed some barrels hoping to stall them, it was like they were coming from all directions and you were getting overwhelmed.

“Guys! This way!” And Robin took the lead and pushed open a new door. “Come on, quick!”

Steve was right behind you as he shut the door and leaned his weight against it. “Robin!” She rushed over and pushed her small frame onto the door. Erica and Dustin were looking for a way out and you… you just froze.

You fucking froze from fear and panic and dread. You froze when Steve and Robin could use your help or look for a way out with Erica and Dustin or just a weapon if worse comes to worst, but no. You fucking froze and tears were blurring your vision and your feet felt like two-hundred-pound weights, and your arms were buzzing with the sting of a thousand bees. Your breathing was coming in inconsistent rhythms, a sign you were having another panic attack and being a dead weight to everyone.

“(Y/n)! Snap out of it! Get out of here!” Words followed by harsh shakes of your body. You took gasping intakes of air as if you just rose out from the water you were drowning in. Dustin was a frantic mess in front of you, trying to pull you behind him.

“Go! Just get out of here!”

Steve and Robin’s voices made you stop and pull away from Dustin. “(Y/n)! We have to go!” The younger boy shouted. “Just- Just go! I’ll be right behind!” Not wanting him or Erica to wait for you.

“(Y/n), don’t you dare stay! Get the hell out of here!” Steve was shouting at you. “The kids need you!” Robin was also telling you to leave, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t decide between leaving them behind or keeping the kids safe, you know realistically you should be with the kids. You’re the adult for them, they need protection. But you can’t leave your boyfriend or best friend to the Russians, you just can’t.

“I’m- I’m staying. Now shut up.”

The door burst open before they could shout at you some more. Steve’s body was knocked into you causing your body to hit the wall harder and bang your head. You groaned with your eyes closed, ears honing in on all the guns cocking in front of the three of you. All your hands were held in the air, showing you had no weapons and weren’t a threat, just idiot kids in stupid clothes.

The guards parted so an older man could be front and center. His face was wrinkled and twisted into a grimace, his hands were held behind his back as his shiny black boots stopped in front of your dirty sneakers. His soulless eyes traced each one of you, head tilting before straightening.

“Well… what do we have here?” His Russian accent is thick on his English words. He looked to a guard beside him and jerked his head. The soldier marched forward and wrapped a tight grip around your left bicep. He pulled you off the floor to stand in front of his boss, you squirmed and twisted, hoping to get his touch off your skin.

“Hey! Let go of her!” Steve yelled and you heard shuffling behind you. Barely a glance over your shoulder you saw Steve being held down by two guards. “Get your disgusting hands off her!” His usually soft and homey eyes were hardened and terrified, mouth in a firm line with his nostrils flaring.

The boss man stepped too close, practically chest to chest with each other. He leaned his face in close and then held your cheeks in a tight grip. “You are a pretty one. And I see you have… special someone.” He dropped his hand and his eyes stared Steve down, “Well… this will be fun. Da?”

“Let go of me asshole!” Your hands were cuffed behind your back and thrown over a bulky man’s shoulder as if you were a bag of flour. The same goes for Robin and Steve, though Steve was only cuffed and walking behind you and Robin, your eyes catching his white Nikes.

You twisted your neck, trying to look at Steve in the awkward position. You could see the red spot on his jaw where he got punched for trying to stop them from touching you or Robin. You tried to convey so many words and emotions through your eyes alone, hoping it would be enough for Steve.

You were thrown off the man’s shoulder and back on your feet, blood rushing from your head making you stumble just a bit. You almost wanted to thank the man when he undid the cuffs from your wrist, rubbing at the irritated skin. There was an open door in front of you and Robin and you could feel the press of a gun to your spin, it made you stiffen and hold your breath.

“Move.” One-word command. You took two measly steps forward with Robin at your side.

When you looked over your shoulder hoping to see Steve just behind you, you turned on your foot when you saw him getting dragged away further down the hall. You tried to follow but were stopped by a human blockade, their arms and guns pushing you to the door.

“Steve! Stevie!” He too was thrashing against his captures. Steve was shouting and trying to kick at shins and knees, yelling for you and Robin. “Don’t you dare touch them! Not one fucking hair on their head!”

They got tired of all the shouting so they shoved the butt of a gun against his head before dragging him away and out of sight. And they just shoved you in the back causing you to trip over your feet and hit the linoleum flooring, Robin falling just beside you.

“Hey! Hey, assholes!” Pushing from the floor and throwing your body into the metal door, looking through the tiny window. No one was outside. “Steve! Steve!” Yelling his name even if he couldn’t hear you.

You didn’t bother putting up more of a fight when it was clear no one was around to hear your pleas. A sneaker foot wacks the metal with a dull thud followed by a deep groan before you walk away. You were stuck in a sterile, empty room with Robin and Steve was somewhere dealing with who knows what from the Russians.

“Why’d they only take Steve?” A quiver to Robin’s voice. She stayed on the floor with her arms wrapped around your knees.

A hand pushed your messy front strands as you paced back and forth with a hand on your hip, “He’s the only guy. Saw how protective he was of us, I don’t know. All I know is they aren’t gonna play nice with us for long before it starts feeling like home.” Left hand rubbing over your cheeks, the older man’s face mixed with flashes of Lonnie.

“We just need to tell them the truth. That’s it, I mean, do we look like spies for the government? It looks like our parents dressed us as if we’re five-year-olds.” Robin went on a tangent.

You weren’t sure how long it was, could’ve been five minutes or thirty, your brain too occupied with Steve’s whereabouts. But when you and Robin stopped talking or kicking random objects in the space, you could hear something. Faint noises that grew closer by the second, squeaks and taps. You rushed to the door and stuck your face to the window opening, craning your head to get any inch of the hallway to see where it was coming from.

To your left, you saw two guards with Steve in the middle. He was slumped forward with his hands bound in cuffs, feet dragging behind him and his head bobbed with each step they took. You couldn’t see the state of his face with him tilted forward, but with him not being able to walk wasn’t a good sign. “Stevie…” Breath fogging the glass.

They stopped outside the door and banged their fist into the metal when they saw you. You flinched at the loud noise and backed away, just wanting them to bring your Steve into your arms. Two steps inside before they threw him down to the floor. You tried to catch most of his weight, not wanting him to hit his head, with his dead weight your knees buckled and brought the two of you down.

“Steve? Steve?” Robin grabbed him by the shoulder and helped roll him gently to the floor. He laid on his back with his legs sprawled out, cuffed hands sitting on his stomach. His breathing was shallow, but it was there, he still had a pulse.

“Stevie? Baby?” Hands hovering over his bruised and bloodied face. His left eye was swollen and puffy with dark blue and purple color ringing the whole area. There was so much dried blood from his nose and down his mouth that it dripped to his chest and the top of his shirt. His hair was wet with sweat, your right hand pushing the limp strands away from his forehead. Closed mouth quivering, trying to hold your tears back.

“What’d you do? What did you do to him?” Robin yelled at the commanding officer and he back-handed her in the cheek. “Robin!” The man doing the same action to you. Another flash of Lonnie crossed your mind.

He was speaking Russian and then his two lackeys grabbed two chairs from the room and sat them back to back. One took Robin and the other took Steve then tied a black belt over their biceps and stomach. “What are you doing? Huh? We’re just ice cream workers! We don’t know shit!” Spewing words as Robin grunted against the binding.

Once the two men tied Robin and Steve, they pulled you off the floor and rebuffed your wrist, and slid an arm through yours. “Let go of me assholes!” Stepping on their feet, they didn’t flinch.

The boss man stood in front of Steve and grabbed a fist of his hair to lean his head back. “Don’t you fucking touch him!” Thrashing in your hold. He just tutted his tongue and dropped Steve’s head. Robin called for him, trying to get him to respond, but he was out cold.

“I think your friend needs a doctor.” He spoke in his Russian heavy English. He walks in front of Robin and you have a clear view of his bulging eyes. “Good thing…” He leaned in close, “We have the very best.” He looked at you and the two guards then just… laughed. Like he just told an inside joke that only the three of them understood, and you guessed that was the case.

His eyes dropped down to Robin and you heard the wet sound of spit that she launched onto his face, hitting his mouth. You smirked at her attitude. He used a white cloth to clean his face, “You are going to regret that, little bitch.”

More orders were spoken and the door beeped open. His guards started to drag you away, you tried planting your feet firmly on the ground as if you were a child again not wanting to do something. “No! No, Robin!” Both of you called each other names before the door closed behind you. “Fucking bastards!” Yanking and tugging your arms, but their fingers were curled tight into your muscle.

“I wouldn’t bother.” The commander stated as he walked in front. “If you cooperate, we won’t hurt your friends.”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “Oh, like what you did to Steve? I’m sure he was cooperating, yet he’s bloody and can’t see out of one eye! So you’re lucky I’m tied up 'cause I’m just waiting for the moment where I can sink my thumbs into your eyes.” Venom dripping from your words, not fucking around anymore. The older man just laughed, head thrown back in pure glee at your words.

He looked over his shoulder and shook his head with an annoying smile, “You are funny. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Another door opened and you were brought inside. They threw you down onto a metal bench that was built into the bare walls. The space was the size of your bathroom at home, tiny four walls boxing you in.

Commander stood tall with his hands held behind his back, an ugly mug staring you down, a shadow from his hat shading his dark eyes. The goons, one on each side, kept their arms down and fingers curled into fists. You can already tell how you’re gonna look coming out of this.

“Who do you work for?” He sounded bored of asking the same question that you assumed he asked Steve multiple times.

“I work for Scoops Ahoy. The ice cream shop in the mall above us, guys, come on. Get some sunlight or you’ll-” Goon to your right stepped forward and threw a hard punch to your stomach making you lean over your thighs. You groaned as the air was pushed from your lungs while talking. “Fuck… you.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, “You are a feisty girl. Don’t worry, you’ll break quickly.” He nodded at thing two and he swung a fist into your jaw. Your head turned with the impact and it took a second for the white-hot pain to register in your brain. Wiggling the bone trying to asset the pain and possible damage, you heard a crack but nothing serious. “Who do you work for?”

The eye-roll you sent was like you honed the spirit of Erica when she didn’t get her free raspberry swirl sample. “I work in an ice cream parlor dealing with grouchy moms and obnoxious middle schoolers. Do- Do you think I wear this for fun?” Pointing out your sailor costume.

His eyes drilled into your skull as he asked, “How did you get here?”

“Look, grandpa, our shipment was missing. So me and my friends checked where it was dropped off, the door was open so we went inside to check for it. Then it closed and dropped us to the pits of hell. And I’m still out of rocky road ice cream.” Head leaned against the cold wall as you sighed. So you were caught off guard by another punch to your face, aimed at your cheek from the right. Another hit to your ribs followed, then another, and another. You couldn’t even get a steady breath before it sputtered out of your mouth.

Boney fingers grip your chin, mouth pursed and brows angled at the front. His spit splattered your lower face as he harshly repeated, “Who do you work for and how did you get here?” A low groan, “Do you need hearing aids?” Voice even and grated with his tight hold, “I sell ice cream and I was looking for a shipment.”

He dropped your chin. His back was turned and he flicked a hand at the guy to the left. He took five steps then punched you right in the nose, the crunch echoing in the four-by-four room. Your skull was pounding from all the hits it took in quick succession, the broken nose, and blood the cherry on top. Eyes closed with your head tilted back to slow the blood, trying to stop any tears from showing up, and just wishing to see your mom at this moment.

“Well, it seems you and your friend have worked well on this… cover story. But don’t worry, we have something to loosen the tongue. Why don’t we rejoin your friends?” He barked commands, the door beeped open and you were dragged back to your starting spot.

The man was chuckling when he entered the room and you didn’t know why until you were harshly shoved in the back and fell to the floor, knees and palms hurting. You coughed a few times as you looked to see Steve and Robin on the floor, still tied to their chairs. Steve was awake now and you just sighed, letting your head rest on the cool ground.

“Where were you two going?” Acting like he was doing a stand-up set. He tutted his teeth as they were picked up from the ground and then you were tied to the dentist-style chair. Their doctor was messing around with something.

“Baby?” Steve’s voice was rough, it made you sad thinking about all the screaming he must have done. You tilted your head towards him with a bloody grin, “Hi, Stevie.”

“What happened?” And he sounded so broken. All you could do was shrug, “I told the truth.”

“Yes, try to tell the truth. It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful.” Grime reapers hand was touching Steve’s face and hair, poking at his tender spots. “Get your filthy hands off my boy! You fucking corpse!” Bound feet hitting the vinyl of the seat.

He chuckles before stepping away and the doctor wanders toward Steve with a needle in hand and a mad scientist looks buzzing within his gaze. “Wait, wait. What- What is that?” Evil Russian scientist simply said, “It will help you talk.” He gripped Steve's hair and leaned his head to his shoulder and stuck the needle in. “Steve! Steve! What the fuck?!”

He grabbed a second needle and did the same thing to Robin. Then finally you were last, whimpering as the long scarp point pierced the skin of your neck and injected whatever it was. “Now we wait.” And they left the room.

You weren’t sure what the hell the crazy doctor poked you with, but you could already feel something flowing through your system. Your eyelids were getting heavy causing you to blink multiple times trying to keep them open and aware. Head felt fuzzy, almost like the room was spinning. “What the…Am I high?” What if they just injected thc into your bloodstream… is that even a thing?

“Honestly, I don’t feel anything,” Steve mumbled. “Do you?” Question pointed to Robin as they learned their heads together. “I mean, I… I feel fine. I feel normal.” “Yeah, I feel- I feel fine.”

They were quiet for a moment, eyes watching the wall. You felt a mix of wanting to sleep and wanting to throw up, your body giving up its fight against your restraints.

“I feel good,” Steve chuckled, which caused Robin to chuckle. With your eyes closed you could only hum at their joyish sounds.

“Wanna know a secret?” Robin’s voice is up an octave. “What?” A low mutter from you, but Steve asked louder. “I like it, too!” More laughter fills the room. “I missed being high,” Head lulling on your heavy neck as you talked lowly to yourself.

“Morons. They messed up the drug.” “They messed it up!”

“Morons.” “Hey, morons!” “Morons!” All three of you constantly calling them morons, voices yelling and only reaching your ears.

“Oh, no. There’s definitely something wrong with us.” Robin mussed. “Something’s wrong,” All Steve repeated.

The loud buzzing stopped all conversation and giggling. A guard with a gun, grime reaper, and doctor psycho waltz into the room. The doctor had a black bag that he sent on a table before pulling things out one by one, like Mary Poppins. The commander stood in front of Steve like earlier, hands behind his back and stone-faced.

“Am I- Am I getting a lobotomy? Dad always said- said it was a choice. Cause of my- my problem.” Humorless chuckles as that conversation bounced in your cranium. A sigh in defeat.

“Would now be a good time to tell you that I don’t like doctors?” And you can’t decipher if Robin is serious or just joking.

They didn’t play into either of your questions. Just cutting to the chase, “Let’s try this again, yes? Who do you work for?”

“Scoops,” Saying the word like a melody. Steve also restated, “Scoops Ahoy.” And you just laughed.

“How did you find us?” “Question two already?” Blurted from your mouth. “Totally by accident.” All Steve said.

A deep sigh followed by Russian. With hooded eyes, you watched as the doctor grabbed a silver tool and walked toward Steve and Robin. “What is that shiny little toy?” “Where you going with that, doc?” Babbling words.

He grabbed Steve’s hand, “Whoa, whoa, hey, hey. Wait! No! Wait! Wait!”

“There was a code! We heard a code!” Robin yelled over Steve’s panic. The Russians shared a look and the commander walked to Robin’s side. “Code? What code?” And Robin repeated the phrase she translated within a day. “You broadcast that stupid spy shit all over town, and we picked it up on our Cerebro, and we cracked it in a day. A day!”

“Well, really just you.” Babbled to boost Robin’s ego. She continued on her tangent, “You think you’re so smart, but a couple of kids who scoop ice cream for a living cracked your code in a day, and now, people know you’re here.”

“Who knows we are here, little bitch?” His temper was short.

“Uh, well Dustin knows.” Oh. Oh, yeah that’s not good. “Hey, Steve?” “Stevie, don’t-” Both you and Robin tried to get him to stop but he wasn’t picking up any hints. “Yeah, Dustin Henderson, he knows.” “Steve!” Robin yelled. He just laughed, not knowing he just threw a kid under the bus.

“Dustin Henderson.” The Russian repeated, “It is your small, curly-haired friend?”

“How do you know?” Wondering if he was safe was interrupted by Steve, “Oh, curly-haired. Great hair. Small. Kind of like a ‘fro. Yeah.”

“Where is he?” So that answered your question on his safety. He and Erica were safe or- “He’s long gone, you big asshole. And he’s probably calling Hopper, and Hopper’s calling the US cavalry.” Which you suggested should have been step two instead of…what is this? Step eight? “They’re gonna come in here, commando-style, guns a-blazin’, and kick your sorry asses back to Russia. You’re gonna be two pieces of toast.” Steve snickered after letting his tongue roll.

Your eyes tracked how the man crouched down and leaned close to Steve. “Is that so?” Not believing a word from Steve’s mouth. Steve, even drugged, was acting cocky. “Yeah.” The one word brought back the giggles of Robin and Steve as you lay motionless.

Everyone was laughing, two drugged people not fully aware of their surroundings and two dangerous people who don’t give a shit what happens to them. And you’re just watching from the sidelines, high off your ass and strapped down. And fearing for the worse, the sound of that loud blaring alarm went off, forcing all voices to stop and look towards the door.

The commander eyed all three of you before rushing out of the room only leaving the doctor behind. You hoped for backup and not a natural disaster ready to kill you. There were still snickers from Steve or Robin before the door slammed open and a yelling Dustin with a weapon came barreling in. He zapped the doctor in the chest before he fell to the floor unconscious. Three seconds of silence and then Steve cheered, “Hey! Henderson! That’s crazy, I was just talking about you.”

Dustin and Erica were busy untieing Steve and Robin and you were getting antsy. “Get ready to run,” Dustin informed them. “Hello? Help! Please!” Worried they might leave you behind. Erica came to your aid when Robin was freed and stumbling like a baby deer.

“Baby! Oh, baby!” Steve cried for you as he threw his arms over your shoulders. “Gross! Now come on!” Dustin pushed the both of you out of the room. He ran ahead while you held Steve’s hand and pulled him behind you.

taglist: @heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter / @dessxoxsworld / @piper3113 / @animiacorn / @burn1ngw00d / @drxwstxrkxy / @m-rae23 / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman / @yournan69 / @thats-s0-ravenn / @ameliabs-world / @mayonesavegana / @gracella0709 / @gengen64 / @alecmores / @choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx / @redheadedfangirl / @agustdeeyaa / @yappydoo / @liberhoe / @hehehehannahthings / @ladybug0095 / @sweeter-innocence-fics / @j-6o / @voteforevilthoughts / @harrysflowercrownrry / @ilovereadingfanfics / @sorrow-has-a-place-here / @80strashbag / @sunsumonner / @sweet1peach / @cierrajhill / @we-out- here-simping / @nix-rose-a / @x-theolivia / @stylesyourmine / @starkeylover /

*STRIKED MEANS TUMBLR CANT FIND YOU*

123 notes · View notes

it-hurts-because-it-mattered · 1 year

Text

I will never understand people who are sympathetic to Emily Gilmore. She is constantly, unrepentantly, controlling, cruel, manipulative, emotionally abusive, and generally horrible, both to Lorelai and to anyone she considers socially beneath her.

The show does a truly wonderful job of nailing the human aspects of it; how it's not done out of malice, how she's following the rules of the society she lives in and what she truly believes is best, and how Lorelai rebuilds a relationship with her despite everything because there's still love there and now that Lorelai has the power to draw boundaries and stand up for herself, she decides she'd rather deal with some of it than not have her mother in her life. The show is already very sympathetic and supportive of Emily without defending her. But I see so many people truly take her side? So many people who say that Lorelai should respect her more, who think that everything financial Emily does for Lorelai means she should be happy and just put up with the expectations and not be a brat (especially around the loan and the remortgage). I just... I don't know, I just passed the end of Rory's Dance, and I feel like that's such a perfect microcosm of their relationship.

Emily gets everything she wants, she gets Rory to go to the dance, she makes her act like Emily's idea of a lady, she invites herself to stay overnight, she gets to look after her daughter (including Lorelai actively going along with things that make Emily feel like she's helping even if they're not what Lorelai needs), and she gets to feel a closeness that she's felt as a gaping lack since she visited for the birthday party. Then they wake up, and Rory's not there, and Emily just panics and yells at Lorelai and makes everything worse. This situation is Lorelai's to deal with, and is much more important to her, but Emily makes it all about her and her fears. And then she goes off and attacks everyone. She's so cruel. So manipulative. So judgemental. So awful in every way. She hurts Lorelai very badly, dismisses her pain now and throughout her life, justifies her own controlling abuse and says Lorelai deserved more and clearly Emily was right to do it, and pushes Lorelai to the breaking point of throwing her out. And she's put Lorelai in such a bad state that when Rory comes in, she turns around and throws the same judgement and controlling abuse at Rory. It's a remarkable demonstration of a generational cycle of abuse, especially because we see that it doesn't land fully because Rory refuses to accept it because she knows it's not her fault, she knows Lorelai knows it, because her whole life has been an active effort to break that cycle, Lorelai has raised her exactly to be free of it.

I don't hate Emily, she's an excellent character and both Rory and Lorelai are ultimately glad to have her in their lives. But I will never be able to even slightly understand people who take her side.

#Gilmore Girls #I'm not gonna add character tags bc it might be a bit hateful for an Emily tag #And it seems pointless to tag Rory and Lorelai without her

72 notes · View notes

watchoutforthefanfics · 5 months

Text

the apple pie life for me (and you) // Dean Winchester x Castiel (SPN)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Cough Syrup - Glee Cast (Cover)

Summary: One minute, Castiel is confessing his love as he sacrifices himself, so Dean can live. The next, Dean is dead, and Castiel's avoiding him in Heaven. Or maybe Dean's avoiding him. Dean has probably never been more confused in his life, feelings for his best friend and all.

TWs: kinda angst, mentioned vomit, very slightly alluded child abuse (john winchester), a little bit of yelling, sort of suicidal thoughts (like yeah, but he's already dead), cursing, crying, low self-worth, mention of self-sacrifice, Dean is bad at feelings (and so is Cas), avoidance, mention of death, and confrontation.

[[A/N: This is a finale fix-it, but with the finale still canon, if you will. Except Dean doesn't like just drive until Sam dies. This actually ripped out my soul and shoved it back in. I felt possessed writing this. Also, let Dean say fuck. Anyway. This shit will fuck you up, but it's a happy ending !!! Anyway, enjoy :))) ]]

Dean doesn't think he wanted to die.

But he's not really sure. And he kinda feels like that's something you should be sure about.

As he cruises along in Baby with no place to go, but also somehow having somewhere in mind, he just keeps thinking about it.

Lots of things, really. Chuck, everyone disappearing, Jack, Sammy back on Earth (he thinks he's always gonna worry about him), and... and Cas.

See that's... that's where his mind hitches.

Because otherwise, after Jack took over, Dean thought things were going pretty good. Great, even. Him and Sammy doing the same thing it all started with. (Sans the Dad thing, probably for the best, but still-)

But, the more he thinks about it now, where there is nothing but the road, Baby, and him... That life, that wasn't what he wanted. He wasn't living how he wanted to. Sure, he wanted Sammy in it, but to say he still wanted to be a hunter?

When he thought about it, it kinda felt like he was still playing the role that Chuck had carved out for him. He knows he had free will then, he knows Chuck wasn't in charge, but he just... That role was comfortable, familiar, and he thinks maybe... both him and Sam just fell right back into it.

And then, there's the just him and Sam thing. It started like that, yeah, and don't get him wrong, he loves Sammy. (It's probably in his bones now, it's so ingrained in his friggin' DNA.) But it wasn't just him and Sammy, not anymore.

So, how can everything be 'goin' good' when you're missing pieces, people?

Like Jody and the girls, Garth and his family, Eileen, Jack and... and Cas.

So, even though, Jack fixed it all, it was still kinda like him and Sam were the only ones on the planet. Alone.

He wasn't happy with what he was doing, he was missing people like hell, and his brain was in near-constant turmoil because... because his best friend was dead. And it wasn't like he tried to stop it, live like how Castiel wanted him to. What he died for.

But he just couldn't. How the hell was he supposed to live happily when Cas was dead? Because of him, of all things.

So, maybe... maybe he did want to die.

Dean doesn't think it's only the Cas... thing, he thinks it's a lot of things (probably). But, he thinks him not being there is really what makes it all so wrong.

He thinks back to when Cas was dead before, when... when all he needed was a "damn win" and he got him back. Everything was so much better, even though shit hadn't been done about Chuck or any of their other problems. He had a damn win.

He's just starting to think that maybe he didn't need a win, maybe he needed Cas.

And maybe that's why the life he lived wasn't what he wanted. Maybe that's why it was so easy to die when he'd been fighting all his life to live freely. Escape whatever goddamn prophecies plagued his life, and live how he wanted to.

Team Free Will, he remarked somewhere in his head.

And yet, the only one living freely was Cas. Sam and Dean, written like damn books, apparently, but Cas?

Chuck said he never followed him, said that he had a "crack in his chassis" (whatever the hell that meant). And he'd even... the turning point for him was Dean. Goddamn "gripping him tight and raising him from perdition".

That was when he'd veered off the path Chuck had built for him, and out of the damn countless universes, this... his Cas was the only one who broke the cycle.

And then, he'd think back to the moment he died for the... for the last time. What he said, and how he said it, and even when Dean tried to twist it to something that wasn't so goddamn scary. He couldn't. Because he had said it clear as day.

And just telling him gave him 'true happiness' (like a damn fairytale). He didn't expect a response, or anything, just telling him. Dean couldn't wrap his head around it at all. Hadn't since the day he said it.

Every time he thought about both of them, Cas's... confession and Chuck's words, he connected the dots. He'd never let himself think about it, but now he had all the time in the world to. It's all he could do.

So, he let himself think it, just this once.

Cas... loving him, that wasn't planned. That was all Cas. This Cas. His Cas.

He maybe even loved him so much that it broke god's will.

How was Dean supposed to handle that? Digest that? When seconds later, Cas was dead. Even now, he couldn't-

There was a house.

To his left, it had been miles of just meadows and fields, and now... now there was a house. A white house, that you sort of just pictured in your head when you imagined a 'family home'. It looked kind of oddly like his house when he was a kid, but also not at all.

It had a white picket fence and a big yard. It had all the works.

The apple pie life, his mind chimed.

Dean paused a moment, wondering if this was someone else's. His eyes peered around it, focusing on the long, empty driveway (the kind that was half dirt and half rocks). And he came up decidedly empty.

He took a breath, and mumbled low (maybe to make sure he could still talk), "'S worth a shot."

Flinching a little at Baby bumping along the rocks, Dean slowly crept up to the house. Eyeing it the whole time, as if it would change when he looked away. Or maybe like it wouldn't feel right halfway up the driveway.

But, he felt the same all the way through.

Dean pursed his lips, staring at the white shingles and the big porch with two rocking chairs -one on either side.

It was two stories, but still small. And it wasn't perfect either, not like out of one of those friggin' house magazines where everything seemed so clean, it was almost scary. There were scuffs and marks, and the grass grew too high right next to the steps.

He took a breath, and stepped out of Baby, throwing the keys around his fingers on instinct. The jingle was the only noise that filled the air then.

It was crazy how much the air smelt the same, felt the same. He could see the wind shift the blades of grass and the branches of the trees, it felt so much like... home.

Even though Dean had never seen this house before in his life, it felt like home.

That... That feeling was new.

He let his eyes surf over the land a second, before catching on a barn -rundown and hidden behind the house. And even though it was, Dean traced the driveway all the way back to it.

Letting himself take one last look at the house, he slowly trailed back to the barn. Feet crushing over rocks and twigs, he truly had never felt more alive. Ironically.

It wasn't the long stretch of road, the slick seats of Baby, or the low hum of the engine. It was the sound of birds, the smell of flowers, and the fresh air. Dean nearly almost bent down to get dirt on his hands just to feel it again, instead of the smooth steering wheel he knew so well.

He didn't though, and instead, approached the barn. Somewhere in his head, it rang familiar. He wasn't sure why or how, but as he walked through the door it just... he knew it.

And as his footsteps echoed through the air, it hit him.

Dean spun around on his feet and looked toward the door, almost on instinct.

He did know this barn. It was where he... where he first met Cas. He remembers it more with all the sigil and black paint everywhere, but looking back at the door, at the lights-

He laughed a little, the dramatic son of a bitch.

Dean cut himself short, watching the doors. Maybe he was expecting something, someone, but he'd never say it out loud. He couldn't, not now.

Cas had been right there.

And there was a part of him that wished he still was.

He took a deep breath through his nose, wondering what exactly he was going to do with it. Or if he was just gonna keep it empty. Because...

He had the spare thought to make it into a kinda garage, build some shelves maybe, fill the walls with parts. He could pull Baby in, shelter her from the rain. If it did rain here. Somehow Dean hoped so. He wanted stuff like rain, snow, the crunching leaves, and the smush of mud under his shoe.

It was weird to say he wanted to feel human in Heaven, but he did.

Because when had he ever felt human? Really?

He wanted that. He wanted a lot of things now that could never have imagined back then. Or didn't think to, he guessed.

Patting one of the wooden walls, Dean made his exit.

His eyes lingered on the backyard for a moment, where the expanse of grass seemed larger, and in the corner, there seemed to be a fenced-off patch of dirt. Maybe for a garden.

He had never thought about having a garden, but he wasn't really against it either.

He looked at for a second, before thinking to himself. Cas would probably like that.

He had that bee thing, and bees like flowers, right? So, maybe he'd offer it to him. Let him have the space. It would be nice having him there, a little piece of him around him every day.

Because he knew that he was tinkering around somewhere, supposedly with Jack. And maybe... maybe it would be nice for him to have a break, a garden.

Dean bit his lip, tapping his foot a moment.

Was that what it was? Was that why you wanted him here, Winchester? Really?

He kept moving forward, steady steps back to the front of the house. For once in his life, there was no rush. He could take his time.

By the time he swung around to the porch, the wind had died down and left only the shining sun in its wake. It felt just like when the sun touched his skin on Earth, maybe even a little better. He liked it the same reason he liked everything else, just being human.

Dean moved up the steps, stairs creaking with every move and his hand drifting across the railing. It was imperfect with bumps and peeling paint, and he had a thought that maybe he could fix it one day. Maybe that's why the house is the way it is, so he could fix it.

Like maybe it had been built like that because he'd always wanted to do it. Fix up a house. Did Cas know that?

His eyes roamed over to the second rocking chair thoughtfully. He kind of had an idea of who he wanted there.

He let his fingers drift over the chair a moment, like maybe if he thought hard enough, he'd be there. Here.

Dean didn't think that he could talk to him, or maybe that he would be comfortable doing so. But that didn't mean he didn't want to friggin' see him, talk to him.

And even though it was scary as hell, he would talk about it if Cas wanted to. He just thinks that the natural progression is his response, and Dean... Dean wasn't sure he had one. Or maybe he had one, but he wasn't sure he could say it.

He was a damn coward.

Pulling open the door, Dean's eyes slunk along the walls. The first thing he saw was a hallway, softly colored walls, and frames along it. Stepping inside, he pulled the door closed behind him (on instinct) and drew his attention to the pictures.

A lot of them, he recognized.

Old pictures of him and Sammy, pictures of his Mom and Dad. But some, he hadn't.

His fingers trailed over a frame. It was him and Cas laughing in the bunker, he'd had no idea it was taken at all. It must've been Sam, but he'd never found the need to show him, apparently.

He had that sort of crinkly smile that he'd get sometimes, and Dean was saying something but he was laughing halfway through it. And Cas was just looking at him like he always did.

Ever since Cas's goodbye, he'd been rethinking everything he knew. Everything.

From the first time he saw him to the last, he'd looked through everything -trying to find it. Trying to see how he'd missed it for so long. And when he did, it was right damn in front of him.

That was probably what he hated this most, that he'd never seen it. Dean had never even thought of the possibility, only once or twice when some dick would make an offhand remark. (Which, when he looked back on it, happened a lot.)

And it has seemed just so far away. Impossible.

Maybe that wasn't because he hadn't... but because he was a broken human (past damn repair) and he was an angel of the Lord.

How could he love me?

And then, there was all that he said. That he believed Dean was so much better than he did. At his very core was love of all things.

"The one thing I want, I know I can't have."

Knows he can't have, it kept ringing through his head. As he wandered up the stairs, maybe even before that, when he was driving, and maybe even before that when it was just him and Sammy ganking bitches.

He didn't tell Sam, and maybe that was the biggest thing. Maybe he felt some guilt, or maybe... maybe he just wanted to keep it to himself. He wasn't sure.

Dean wasn't sure about any goddamn thing at this point.

He took a breath and peeked into the rooms. He didn't want to go fully in them, he wasn't sure why. But one of them, he recognized to be a guest bedroom. It was empty, except for a bed and a dresser -impersonal.

Maybe for Sammy someday.

There was a bathroom on the other wall, he thinks he has two. One downstairs and one up. (Maybe even three, he hasn't looked at his master bedroom yet.) He paused a moment, maybe imagining things on the sink. Imagining a rug he buys one day (do they even buy things? Or does he just think it into existence?). It was domestic, and Dean couldn't tell if he liked it or not.

He trailed down the stairs again, and just to his right, he saw another bathroom -right by the front door. It was empty again, except for the essentials. Toilet, shower, and sink. He didn't waste anymore time.

Across from it was, he guessed, the living room. And he kinda expected the same, just the essentials, maybe some fuzzy throw pillows that Dean would inevitably throw out. Maybe a rug he'd say he didn't like, but he'd keep it anyway.

But it wasn't.

Instead, Dean found something a lot more personal.

It was a big TV with shelves surrounding it filled with movies. And the more he looked at it, the more at it -they were his favorites. And on the wall under the window, there was a cassette player (no cassettes, but they were probably out in Baby) and to its left a mini fridge. Dean chanced a look in it and found his favorite type of beer. And under it, on one of the shelves was an unused record player. Beside both of them, there was one of those containers for vinyls (Dean had friggin' clue what it was called), and it was filled. He didn't have to look to know it was all his favorites.

There were bean bags piled in the corner like he'd have too many visitors for the couch. Or maybe they'd expect him to. Cas would expect him to.

Dean felt like his breath was shot out of his chest. A little like he couldn't friggin' breath.

His Dean-cave.

It was a damn upgrade, yeah, not with concrete floors and stuffy walls. But in essence the very same. Probably the perfect version of it in his head.

God, had Cas remembered that?

Remembered all of it? His favorite fucking songs, favorite movies, favorite shows- Had Cas remembered everything?

It made him want to throw up, or maybe like his heart was squeezed so tight in his chest that he felt like he might die. Again, he guessed.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Dean stared at the room, hand coming to rest on the back of the couch. He swallowed back the bile that was rising in his chest, it felt like his stomach was waves in the damn ocean.

He didn't know whether to cry or throw his guts up. It felt just like after Cas was taken by the Empty.

Like his world was shifting and crumbling all at once.

Dean stepped back a few steps and came up against the wall. His eyes burned.

He ran a hand through his hair, a little frantically, and tried to school the sob that climbed up his throat.

He's alive, he repeated to himself, Cas is fucking alive.

Some other voice chimed back, little and weak, But he's not here, is he?

He took in a deep breath, shaky, and leaned his head back up against the wall. Looking up at the ceiling, Dean thought maybe he felt tears roll down his cheeks.

He wanted to pray, bring him here. But what the hell would he even say?

"Hey buddy, confessing your love and fucking dying after wasn't very fun for me."

"What you did wasn't goddamn fair."

"I know you love me, but I don't understand it. I don't get it."

"How can you love me?"

"I think maybe I love you too."

His breath hitched in his chest.

He clenched his fist onto the wall, pounding it a few times. He heard the frames rattle in their places and felt the wood boards behind it under his hand.

Dean took a deep breath in and wiped at his eyes. Sniffling, he walked forward into the kitchen. Keep moving.

It was the cozy kind of kitchen, not the minimalist crap, with wooden cupboards and imperfect counters. The refrigerator had a few pictures stuck to it, held up by those damn alphabet magnets.

He just somehow knew that was Cas's idea.

And he laughed a little at it, taking one of them in his hands and rubbing his thumb over the shitty plastic.

His eyes smoothed over the space again, and he found something actually on the counter. He wasn't sure how he missed it the first time, but now, there was a slice of apple pie there. Probably the most picturesque one he'd ever seen. Heaven pie.

"Goddamn Heaven pie," he muttered, but he was smiling.

Before he could take a bite, of what he suspected might be the best pie in his life, he heard something.

A dog bark.

Dean nearly ran to the front door, leaving the pie stranded on the counter. Swinging the door open, he nearly stalled in place.

Miracle was there, yeah, and ran up to him a little like he was the only person in the world. It made his heart ache. But there was someone else.

"I've got a delivery," Charlie, his Charlie, smiled -grinned even.

"Charlie," he spoke, a little like it took everything in his chest to. She only smiled brighter.

Dean thought maybe he was crying, and he grabbed her in a hug. One that he thought may have been a little too tight but she didn't complain. She didn't say a word.

He put his chin on top of her head (just like he used to) and felt her hair (still short) under it. He used to do it to remember she was there, it felt like he was missing a fucking limb when he couldn't anymore. He never thought about the fact that maybe he could again one day.

It felt like everything in him was relieved, as if the tension had melted away. Somehow, someway, Charlie was exactly what he needed right now.

God, he hadn't even thought about her.

Well, he had. A lot. He thought about everybody he'd ever lost, that shit weights on your conscience. (Especially her.) But he'd never thought of her being up here, that he could see her again. Give her a goddamn hug-

He sniffled a little and dropped his mouth to kiss her on the forehead. She hugged him back just as tight, and he thought he might’ve heard her sniffle too.

Dean spoke before he could stop it, "I'm sorry."

"Dean, no," she pulled back, but didn't let go of his arms, "-you weren't- That wasn't your fault, you know that."

He was still crying, and maybe his voice was cracking, "I'm still sorry."

Charlie rubbed her hands down his arms for a minute, before changing the topic, "'Heard you took down God."

Dean laughed a little, wiping at his eyes, "Damn straight I did. Me, Sammy, and Jack."

"Would've loved to know him," she smiled -big and bright, "-but he's too busy for me now."

"Probably too busy to see me too," he offered, sniffling, "-if that helps you."

She shrugged, a little knowingly, "I think he'd make time if you asked."

He bit his lip a moment, thoughtfully, "Ya wanna come in?"

"Was waiting for that," she laughed, walking in -her eyes dipping over the walls, before waltzing into the Dean-cave, "-Look at your digs, Winchester! Not bad."

"It fit me?" He asked.

She turned to him then, grinning, "To a T."

He ran his tongue along his teeth, something heavy in his throat, "You know who made it?"

"I do," Charlie passively remarked, as Miracle ran up and jumped on the couch, "-We saw the house pop up a bit ago, not long, and we saw them out here, building it."

"Cas, yeah?" He asked like he didn't already know.

"Yup," she popped the 'p', running up to his shelves and seemingly skimming the titles, "-that and uh... Jack. But, mostly Cas."

She muttered something about 'shit, you have that one?', but Dean's mind was elsewhere.

"Do you," he started asking, swallowing kind of awkwardly, "-Do you see things on Earth? Like um... events, or conversations?"

"Only when we want to," she answered, still busy on the shelves (currently she was on her tippy-toes looking at the top one), "-I've been watching a few conventions over the years. Sometimes I peek in on you, or Sam, or Cas, for that matter. But I'm pretty content here."

Dean fell silent, fidgeting with his hands.

She turned to him, quirking a brow, "Why? Do you want to check in on Sam? It's pretty easy, actually-"

"Before," he started, and Charlie's lips snapped shut, "-Before the whole, uh, Chuck fight and Jack becoming... well, God. Cas died again."

"Shit," she spoke, "-how did he die?"

"Billie, ya know, Death, uh," he cleared as throat, and Charlie's eyes were on him (intently watching), "-she was after us. Me and Cas, and he... he sacrificed himself."

"Damn," she let out, "-have you seen him since Jack-"

"He didn't really... die," Dean kept going, maybe like he couldn't stop (he wanted to tell someone), "-There's this place where, uh, demons and angels go when they 'die'. From what I've heard, it's kinda like a void, an eternal sleep kinda deal."

Charlie pursed her lips a moment, maybe trying to decide if she should speak, "Yeah, I've heard rumors. Never been there of course, but um, yeah."

Dean bit his lip, and took a deep breath in.

"Dean," Charlie slowly stepped toward him, "-are you okay? Do you need to... sit down?"

"He made a deal," he continued, and maybe he wasn't looking at her but he really couldn't, "-Uh, the Empty, or the eternal sleep thing, um... would take him when he was the damn happiest he's ever been."

"And," she paused, laughing a little, "-how was he the happiest he's ever been when you were running from Death?"

Dean didn't say a word, and Charlie promptly cut her laughter short. The silence echoed a moment, and she stepped closer to him again (this was uncharted territory).

"Dean?"

He swallowed, his voice was a little scratchy now and his eyes burned, "He... He started this speech about- about me, and how good I was. That I wasn't just anger or... or hate like I thought. I was love, I raised Sammy for... for love, and do what I do, like stop the goddamn apocalypse, for love. That I was... the most selfless person he'd ever known-"

Charlie stayed quiet.

"-And he's lived millenniums," Dean laughed a little and it was wet (and maybe he was crying), "-I mean, how can that... how can that be true?"

"Dean," she leveled in a steady voice.

"And he just kept going," he laughed again, and he wiped at his eyes, "-and I couldn't say a goddamn word."

"Dean."

"And after all that," he felt a sob crawl up his throat, it shattered through his chest, "-after all that he told me he loved me. And just saying it, fucking telling me- That made him the happiest he's ever been."

Charlie's eyes were shiny, and she was looking at him a little like he would shatter at any second. But she didn't say a word.

"He said," he swallowed, his breaths shaky, "-He said that the one thing he wanted he couldn't have but I..."

He let himself say it, this once.

"Charlie, I-" he looked at her then, and she was frowning, her eyes were teary, "-I think he can have it. I think he-"

Dean took a breath, it shook through his lungs and laughed again -wiping at his eyes (like he wouldn't be crying if they didn't fall).

"-I think he's always damn had it."

There was silence then, and Dean didn't feel like he had anything else to say. Or maybe that he could say anything else. It felt like his soul had been ripped out of his chest-

Charlie seemed to take a minute to make sure, tediously stepping forward.

But when she realized he was, she pulled him into a hug again. This time though, she stood on her tippy-toes and pulled his head to her shoulder. Her hand cradling the back of his head, Dean followed her lead.

He took a breath in, that was just so Charlie, his Charlie, and it made his eyes fog up again.

She held him there a while, even though it couldn't have been comfortable. He knew that, but he couldn't be the one to pull away. Halfway because it was so long since he'd seen her, and halfway because he couldn't remember the last time he was held like this. Cared for like this.

"Did you," she started, slow and careful (gentle), "-Have you told anyone about this?"

"No, I... I died with it," he breathed out, "-I just... I couldn't tell Sammy-"

"Dean, hey," Charlie shooshed him, before joking lightly, "-that's okay. It just... It seemed like it was a little pent up."

Dean laughed a little, and she seemed to be happy about that.

"It was," he echoed out in the silence, "-I didn't... I didn't tell anyone."

"Well," she hummed, pushing her chin onto his shoulder, "-thank you for telling me."

Something in his chest softened.

"I think that's..." she spoke, gently, "-I think that's big for you. All of this is... is big for you."

There was a beat.

"You're doing your best, Dean," she soothed, squeezing him a little tighter, "-And maybe you didn't tell Sam, or tell Cas, but you did what you could. Everyone has their limits."

He let out a breath, less shaky this time, and dug himself further into her shoulder.

"That's nothing-" her hand rubbed against his back, "-That's nothing to be ashamed of."

He let the words sink into his skin.

"And quite frankly," Charlie quipped, "-your limit is way past mine. So, I can't judge."

Dean laughed again, and he could nearly feel her smile.

Thoughtfully keeping himself there for just a little longer, before pulling back. Sniffling and wiping at his eyes, Charlie stayed very close by, just in place for another hug.

"We good?" She questioned, a little playfully but on the same note, very serious.

"Yeah, yeah, we're uh-" he chuckled out, "-we're good."

"Can I..." she paused a moment, "-If you're not comfortable, don't answer it. But, is this your first... guy thing?"

Dean froze a little.

"You don't have to answer," she quickly added, "-at all. No pressure."

It's Charlie.

He ran his hand along his jaw, before rumbling out, "Kinda. I... When I was a kid, I knew, and maybe I even acted on it a little, but Dad..."

Charlie hummed in understanding, "He found out?"

"Yeah, uh," he spoke, suddenly awkward, "-I don't... I've never known how he figured it out. Or maybe he just... assumed, but he... yeah."

It was unspoken, and she seemed to understand.

"God," she asserted, maybe a little incredulously, "-he should really not be here."

Dean laughed a little, but something was heavy in his chest, "I don't know if I'd visit either of them anyway. Even without... this."

Charlie pursed her lips, "And you don't have to. It's your Heaven. If they... If they try to talk to you, let me know. I'll get a crew."

"A crew?"

"There's enough of us," she shrugged, "-He's an old man anyway, I'm sure I could take him."

He laughed a little again, "You'd be surprised."

She looked at him a moment like maybe that spoke louder than anything else he said. She squeezed his shoulder once, but gratefully, didn't say anything.

"And can I clarify something?"

Dean hummed.

"When Castiel..." she didn't say it, "-Did you not have time? Or were you just... scared?"

"A little bit of both," he answered, fingers tapping along the table by the couch, "-He said it, told me goodbye, and... and adios."

"But you wouldn't have told him? If you got the chance?" She asked, genuinely.

"I don't..." he sighed out, "-I don't know. I think, in the moment, I was just overwhelmed by it all. In-between how he talked about me, and how he... I barely processed a word before he was gone."

Charlie just looked at him.

"I sat there for a while before it-" he moved over to Miracle, petting him, "-it, uh, kicked in."

"And you-" she responded, a little slowly, "-you haven't seen him since then?"

"Well, I... I just got here," he explained, picking up Miracle's ear between his fingers, "-and I didn't even know he'd gotten out. Until... Until Bobby told me."

"Huh," she commented, sitting beside Miracle, "-Do you think he'd come? If you asked?"

Dean rolled the thought around in his mind, "I don't know, he kinda wanted me to live a lot longer than I did."

"How did you die?"

"On a hunt," he answered, simply.

"Shit," she muttered, "-What took you out?"

"Piece of rebar," he offered, wandering back around toward the shelf, "-Monster of the week threw me against a wall, right into it."

"That's..."

"Sammy was gonna call an ambulance, but I..." he echoed out, "-I told him no. I think- I think I wanted to die."

Charlie didn't speak for a moment, processing it, "Because of... Cas?"

"Yeah, mostly," Dean admitted, "-I, uh, realized it all when I got here. Drove Baby for a while and just... Just started thinking."

"About everything?"

"Yeah, uh," he hummed out, brushing his hand over Miracle's fur, "-everything. I wasn't happy there. Wasn't living the life I wanted, and I don't think I could have. Not without Cas."

She paused a second, "Do you think you'll be happy here?"

"It's Heaven," he laughed, not really looking at her, "-I kinda have to be, right?"

"Well," she countered, speaking a little carefully, "-Dean, you still don't have Cas."

Dean's hand froze in place.

"If you weren't happy without him then," she continued, thoughtfully, "-how are you going to be happy without him now?"

"He was dead," he spoke -defensively, "-He's alive now. I can... I can live with that."

"Dean," Charlie reiterated, low and gentle, "-will you be happy?"

"I've handled worse," he argued, but something in his chest was twisting.

She looked at him then, eyes steady on his, "But you don't have to."

He swallowed, repeating, "But I can."

She stood up then, coming right in front of him, and Dean nearly shrunk in place.

"Dean, he... he loves you," Charlie spoke, barely a whisper, "-and I think, somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you love him too."

He gnawed at his lip, "What's that gotta do with anything?"

"It's... everything, Dean," she laughed, a little in disbelief, "-It's got to do with everything. You deserve to be happy."

He took a deep breath through his nose.

"Isn't that what Castiel wanted?" she pointed out, "-For you to be happy?"

"Apparently not," he retorted, a little bitterly, "-how could I be happy when he's dead?"

"Maybe-" Charlie paused, cogs turning in her head, "-You said that he had to be the happiest he's ever been right?"

"Yeah," he replied, trying to follow.

"How could he be the happiest he's ever been if he knew he was causing you pain?"

Dean swallowed, his stomach twisting, "You think..."

"Dean, look I could be wrong," she clarified, "-but I don't think he thought you'd care. If... If he was the happiest he's ever been, and he loved you, he would never be able to cause you pain, or think he would, and still get taken."

He was speechless, something climbing up his throat.

"If he thought you weren't going to be happy," she finished like she'd had a major breakthrough, "-he... he couldn't have been taken."

"He..." Dean faltered to a stop, "-You really think he thought I wouldn't care?"

Charlie pursed her lips together, "I don't know how else it could've worked."

Dean felt like his whole body was on fire, like he was burning alive. Cas didn't know he cared? How the hell didn't he know that?

God, he cared so damn much, and he didn't even know?

He tried to think back to every time he'd lost Cas, all the grief. Dean realized he'd never seen that, he didn't see everytime he lost his goddamn mind because he was gone. For all he knew, everything was hunky-fucking-dory. He's just always thought he knew.

God, he didn't know?

She approached him then, holding his arms, "Dean, I know it's scary, believe me, I know-"

He just looked at her, words stuck in his throat. It felt like he could say everything and nothing at all. Like he was feeling everything and nothing at the same time.

"But he deserves to know," she finished.

Dean took a second, before saying, "Yeah, yeah, he does."

Charlie smiled at him, patting his arms, "You should talk to him, like... as soon as possible."

"Through what? Prayer?"

"Well, yeah," she laughed a little as if it was obvious.

"How do I know..." he exhaled, "-How do I know he'll come?"

"Dean," she assured, "-he loves you."

"Yeah, but what if he's-" he paused, "-what if he's avoiding me?"

"Dean," she repeated, "-he loves you."

"How does that-"

"That doesn't just stop," she interrupted him, "-It's not like if he gets uncomfortable, he'll just stop loving you. It's bigger than everything, if you ask him to, he'll come."

"But-" he tried.

"I know it," she continued, "-and when have I ever been wrong?"

Dean laughed a little.

"Actually, don't answer that," she laughed, "-Just, just trust me. He built this whole Heaven for you, didn't he?"

He responded, simply, "He did."

"He'll come," she repeated, "-You just have to ask, Winchester."

She'd left not long after that, with one solid hug (he didn't think he'd every stop hugging her, ever) and a promise to "tell me all the deets, including the juicy stuff".

Dean wasn't sure how to handle that.

He didn't do it immediately. He sat down and ate the pie first, which was the friggin' best one he'd ever had (he wondered if it always tasted like that up here). Then, he spent the next few hours going through his collection. He even popped in a cassette from Baby, had a few in-home concerts, and just sat with Miracle for a while (Dean thought that he might've known he wasn't doing something he was supposed to, he had a serious bitch face). And then it was night.

So, he went to bed.

He'll be honest, it happened a few times. Days happened (if that was a thing in Heaven).

It wasn't like he wasn't trying. He did, just every time he tried... He was just a damn coward. Kept saying, "I'll do it tomorrow." And it had very much already been tomorrow. A few of them, actually.

Part of him was kinda waiting to see if he'd just... show up like he used to. But, if he'd confessed his, what he believed to be, unrequited love to his best friend... he'd probably avoid him at all costs too. (He kinda already was.)

Today, though, was different.

Dean woke up, got his coffee, and instead of sitting down at the table and staring out the window (usually watching Miracle run around the yard), he went to the hallway. Couldn't tell you why, if you asked. But he just did.

And he stopped at the same picture, the one of him and Cas laughing. His eyes roamed over the crinkled smile, maybe a little differently now. An ache settled in his chest, like maybe he was missing a limb. Every morning he woke up, something was missing.

And sure, yeah, part of that was Sammy. But the other part...

His eyes smoothed over him again, and he just had the overwhelming urge for him to be there. And the thought ran through his mind again that he didn't know that he mattered. Cas was just living (relatively) with the knowledge that Dean didn't care, as if it was the truth.

With a breath, he decided today was the day.

He had given himself time, gotten dressed, sat out on the front porch (it was raining today, he found it kinda calming), and just readying himself.

Now, he was pacing in the kitchen.

"Cas, buddy," he tried like he was running through lines, "-No. Why would I call him buddy? That defeats the whole goddamn purpose."

He sighed, pinching his nose between his fingers, before trying again.

"Cas," he started, trying to think, "-that day. You knew I- Well, you thought you knew I-"

He dragged his palm down his face, groaning. How the hell was he going to do this?

"Fuck it," he decided, he was never going to get it right, "-let's wing it."

Dean let out a big long breath, shaking his hands as if to ready himself. And he really needed to do so.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

"You can do this, Winchester," he mumbled to himself, "-You killed God, what's a damn love confession?"

Love, love, love, chimed through his head.

His stomach churned, but he stayed focused -eyes squeezed shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he stayed silent for a while. Maybe thinking a little too hard in his head, but at this point, there was no use in fighting it.

He deserves to know, he deserves to know, he deserves to know-

Dean let out a shaky breath, and opened his mouth -words slow and particular, "Cas, I don't know if you can hear me or if you're busy-"

Before he could finish another word, a voice called out from behind him.

"Dean," his voice was measured with a sort of lilt (maybe concern).

"Goddammit, Cas," he jumped, flinching, but turning to the angel on instinct, "-you gotta stop doing that."

He skimmed over him a second like he couldn't believe he was real. But he was, and he was standing right in front of him. Before he could say another word though, Cas started searching over him -quickly.

He lifted his arm (grabbing him by the wrist, Dean's brain froze a little), looking for an injury maybe, "Are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"What? Yeah," he blinked the haze out of his eyes, "-yeah, I'm fine, Cas. I'm in Heaven, what could hurt me?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in the way he always did and seemed to take him in a second. Blue eyes looked him over, maybe trying to tell if he was lying or not. (He probably could, if he was.) The way that he looked at him so intently always made him want to squirm, or run away, or make some odd comment.

It was a little relieving to see it now though.

"It's good to see you," Dean spoke without thinking about it. It was the first thing he thought of.

And it was, Cas being here felt like that missing piece was back in place. Perfectly slotted. It was kinda clouding his judgment.

Cas did the head tilt thing that he always did (and Dean let himself think for the first time that it was cute), eyebrows furrowing together. Even if Dean didn't know him well enough, he would've known he was confused.

"It's good to see you too, Dean," he finally spoke, cautiously but still so damn genuine, "-Although, I do wish we met in different circumstances."

Dean laughed a little, and the silence felt like he was being swallowed whole. But he just couldn't open his mouth.

"Dean?" He still said it exactly the same as he did the first day he met him. It made his head spin a little.

He looked at him, wordlessly.

"Why am I... here?"

Dean pushed his lips together, kind of deflecting, "When did you get out?"

Cas looked at him, maybe a little guiltily but still very sound, "Jack got me out... as soon as he had the power to."

"So, what-" he stated, trying to clarify, "-uh, right after Chuck was taken care of? When he snapped everybody back into existence?"

"Yes," Cas answered, "-After he left the two of you, he spoke to the Empty and got me out. It apparently wasn't easy, but..."

Dean but at his lip a little, looking to the ground a second, "So... So, all those weeks I was on Earth, you were out? Alive?"

Cas was just staring at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. Dean saw something shift through his eyes that couldn't really understand.

"And you-" he continued, now a little frustrated, "-you what, you didn't think to at least tell me that?"

"Dean-"

"No, no," he interrupted, "-I thought you were dead, Cas. Gone. And you just didn't want to tell me?"

"That's not," he let out a big long sigh, "-That's not the case, Dean."

"Sure as hell looks like it," he scoffed, and maybe he was frustrated but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Not anymore.

"I thought," Cas cleared his throat, maybe a little awkwardly, "-I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Why wouldn't I want to see you?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"The last..." he echoed out, like he didn't want to say the wrong thing, "-The last meeting we had wasn't preferable to you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

He rolled around the thought in his head a second, and all he got was resounding defiance, but he couldn't quite say that yet. His head just kept pounding.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Did you-" he started again, searching for answers, "-After the Empty, did you think I was happy?"

Cas looked at him a second, before swinging his eyes to his sleeve almost instinctively (where the bloody handprint would've been), "Not happy necessarily."

"But your damn deal, or whatever," Dean waved his hand dismissively, "-you had to be happy. Completely happy."

"Yes," he answered, inquisitively, "-What is this about, Dean?"

"Cas," he responded, his voice a little shaky (he could see his eyes hitch on it), "-did you think I would care? That I wouldn’t give a damn if you died?"

He pressed his lips together and didn't say a word. Dean thought it was the most telling thing in the world.

His lungs felt like they were tied with rope -he couldn't get a good breath in. Like he was suffocating-

"Really?"

"You looked-" Cas tried to defend himself, "-You looked happy, Dean."

"Yeah," he explained, as if it was obvious, "-because you wanted me to be. And I was trying. For you."

He didn't respond.

"Because what good was a damn sacrifice if I didn't try?"

Cas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Even though it looked like he was trying, maybe even trying to understand what Dean was expressing. Like he couldn't see it, or didn't believe it.

God, he really doesn't know how much I care?

He posed another question, wringing his hands, "Do you know how I died, Cas?"

"Of course I do, Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"I've had a lot of time to do some thinking," Dean continued, walking a little in place, "-and I think... No, I know that I did it on purpose."

"Don't say that," Cas spoke, voice heavy with something.

"Sammy wanted to call an ambulance," he continued, looking down at his hands and still walking, "-and I didn't let him."

"And you think-" something smoothed over in his eyes, "-you think you could've survived?"

"Maybe," he offered, "-I guess I don't know, but I... Cas, I didn't try. I didn't fight it. I spent my whole life fighting it, and when it mattered most, I didn't damn fight it."

Cas's face fell a little, some sort of understanding in his eyes, agreement even. It rattled through Dean's bones, and made it a little hard to stand a moment.

"I never thought that I could leave Sammy alone," he continued, and one of his hands racked through his hair, "-I was scared shitless to. But it was so easy to just give up. I wasn't... I wasn't living, Cas. Despite whatever you think in that angel head of yours, I was not damn happy."

Cas just looked at him, eyes flicking between his, trying to understand. He took a second, before replying, "I'm sorry, Dean. I would never want to cause you so much pain."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

Dean's heart was pounding in his chest. He felt for a second that maybe it would burst through his ribcage like it did in cartoons. It felt damn powerful enough.

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt the urge for to say it. It was on the very tip of his tongue.

"I know, Cas," he deflected (something in his chests stung, coward), "-I know."

Cas just looked at him then, scanning over his face. He could tell there was something else, he looked right into his damn soul every time he looked at him, and there was something else. Dean waited a second, to see if he'd say anything, but he was hit with a resounding no.

Maybe he thought he'd already said enough. Too much maybe. Dean didn't know if he agreed with him or not.

"Cas, I-" he spoke, maybe a little quietly, "-I can't be happy without you. You gotta know that."

He was looking at him more intensely now, still trying to understand it all. Like maybe he couldn't imagine what Dean was trying to say. Or maybe like he couldn't even fathom it.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"I know you didn't-" he cleared his throat, eyes flickering away (he couldn't look at him right now), "-I know you didn't see me. When you, uh, died, any of the times. But I- I gotta tell ya, I was far from happy."

Cas didn't interrupt him, he just kept looking. Staring. Like every word he said was important.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

He just kept talking, at this point he could stop (his eyes burned), "I kept your goddamn trenchcoat in Baby the whole time you were..."

He thought maybe for a second he was working himself up, but he couldn't stop now.

"And when Lucifer stabbed you," he pressed his lips together, and swallowed, "-I gave you a hunter's funeral and... and watched your body burn up into flames."

"Dean," Cas spoke, he could maybe see the edge he was teetering on. Maybe he could see that he was going to cry, and that was new. Maybe he was trying to soothe-

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"And then, when the Empty got you," Dean's voice shook a little, "-I stayed there, for a... a while and cried, probably the most I ever have in my life-"

Cas flinched, maybe a little guiltily, "Dean."

"-I couldn't even answer Sam's damn phone call."

He was holding out his hands now, a little like how cops did, in those shows, when the perpetrator had a weapon or was threatening his own life. Cautious, careful. A little like he'd explode. Voice careful and measured, "Dean, I didn't know-"

"I know that, Cas," he interrupted, maybe a little defensively but he couldn't help it, "-I've been beating myself up about it since I realized that I never made it goddamn clear to you that I cared."

"Don't," Cas replied, a little pained, "-There's no need for that, Dean."

"For what? The fact that I didn't- That you didn't-" his words stuttered in his chest, and he just couldn't speak.

"I know now," he tried to soothe, and Dean's head was pounding, "-I know now that you... care. I know."

Care, care, care.

Love, love, love.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

It felt like his heart was in his throat, like everything was waiting to be said. Like it was right there, and he was so close.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about, Dean?"

All he could hear was his heartbeat in his chest, pounding, pounding, pounding-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

God, he didn't want him to leave.

This house was his too, he could just feel it in the walls. There was something missing, there was always something missing. Even when he was alive-

"Dean?"

How long had he wanted this? Wanted more?

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean."

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Dean, are you alright?"

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Dean," his hands were on his shoulders now (just like before-), "-can you hear me?"

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

I love him, I love him, I love him-

Pounding, pounding, pounding.

"Dean!"

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"Shit, Cas, you can have it!"

Cas looked startled for a moment, but he didn't step away, he didn't let go. Dean's stomach twisted. "What are you-"

"Back, back before the Empty... you said-"

Cas just stared at him, it made Dean want to stop but he couldn't stop-

"-you said, 'The one thing I want, I know I can't have'-"

He just kept talking, and Cas kept staring -something shining in his eyes. Dean thought he knew what.

"-and I'm pretty damn sure that thing was me-"

Cas was looking at him the way he always did, and Dean recognized it for what it was now.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"-You can have it, Cas," he was speaking softer now, a little out of breath, "-You've... You've always had it. Had... Had me."

Cas was just staring a little in disbelief, dropping his hands, and stepping back a little (it made Dean's heart sting).

I love him, I love him, I love him-

"You don't-" he shook his head, not quite looking at him, "-You don't know what you're saying."

"I'm pretty damn sure I do," he responded, a little biting but there was just so much. It couldn't come out any other way.

Cas stared at him like he was trying to find the confusion, the lie, but he was coming up empty-handed. Wonder why the fuck that is.

"Goddammit, Cas," he pushed his palms into his eyes, "-are you gonna make me say it?"

"Say what?" He asked, like it wasn't obvious. Like he couldn't fathom it. It made Dean's hands shake, and his throat clog up.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me-

"Damn it, I love you too!"

The silence that filled the room was suffocating, but Dean just needed to breathe-

"And I can't be happy without you," he spoke, eyes still behind his hands (he couldn't look), "-and I want you to goddamn stay for once."

There was another beat.

"With me," and he thought he may have sounded a little pathetic, but he was very much past that point already.

And there was no one here who would ever judge him. Cas would never judge him and he knew that. He knew that like he knew that the sun rises in the morning and falls at night. Cas would never.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt hands pulling back his own -calloused fingertips against his own. Dean's breath hitched in his chest.

He loves me? He loves me? He loves me?

Cas was close now, and before he fully let go, he kept his hands on his face -cradling. And at first Dean thought he might kiss him (which he wasn't sure how to feel about), but he just kept them there.

He was looking at him like he always does (with love) and holding him a little like he was precious maybe, to him. Dean still couldn't understand that, but he thought one day he might be able to. That Cas might help him to.

"Okay, Dean," he spoke, gentle after a long sort of silence, "-I'll stay."

I love him.

He loves me.

#supernatural #castiel #destiel #dean winchester #deancas #spn #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #watchoutwriting #spn finale fix-it #the apple pie life for me (and you)

43 notes · View notes