#genre: hurt and comfort

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the three most popular genres/tags were Hurt/Comfort, Romance, and Canon Divergence, while the three least popular were Genderswap, High School AU, and Character Death.

To see more analysis, including comparisons to real fic data and previous surveys, please view the full results on AO3.

[renmorris]

the thing about Harry’s wound placement is that it required removing

his pants

his underwear

to clean and remove the bullet. it was his upper thigh. it was his upper thigh. that drives me insane from so many angles, two touch starved men, experiencing closeness in the most horrific way possible. like!

Kim, who has dedicated his life to a career that has separated him from the gay community and hasn’t gotten laid since when. Kim who wants to heal the city, who worked with corpses in processing AND Harry, a repressed bi who has a history of experiencing sexual abuse who can't get through sex without being intoxicated. deathly ill and mostly unconscious.

it’s so intimate and so deeply twisted with how it mirrors their respective traumas and lonelinesses. am i making sense because i feel insane

[generic-whumperz]

Can’t stop, won’t stop

[griefpersevering]

literally obsessed with writing irondad as a funky little overly codependent duo. both of these men are so traumatised but they're gonna do slightly dysfunctional domestic fluff about it

[fantasy-cursedkrystal]

jason and Tim write batman fanfiction or batman ship fanfiction (maybe duke also writes fanfics of batman or he reads them)

Dick and steph read batman fanfiction damian and cass would just be confused

bruce finds out and is traumatized for life

[hiorintruther]

I think hiorin is absolutely winning right now with the Egoist Bible. First of all, you can make a solid argument that Rin fits Hiori’s ideal type, the thing that makes Hiori happy, AND Hiori’s fetish. (Note: while his fetish uses a woman as reference, his ideal type is gender neutral and he said he received chocolate from a guy on Valentine’s Day while specifying that he rejected a girl in the year above him, so any ‘straight Hiori’ arguments mean nothing to me).

Hiori’s ideal type is “someone who can leave me alone”, which fits Rin absolutely perfectly. Rin wouldn’t be clingy, needy, overbearing or smothering. That’s exactly what Hiori wants in a partner. Of course they would still be intimate, it’s not like Hiori would want to be alone 100% of the time, but he wants someone who knows to take a step back and let him have his space when he wants it.

Likewise, the thing that makes Hiori happiest is “being left alone”. Once again, Rin would not be constantly hovering around Hiori, needing Hiori’s attention or getting upset when Hiori doesn’t smother him with love.

Hiori’s fetish is “fractured girl fetish”, which everyone is still a bit confused by but it seems to be referring to seeing injuries that are bandaged up (he specifically references the actress Todo Erika in SPEC, where she wears her arm in a sling and cast). It’s a bit fucked up (not to kink-shame) but then again Hiori is a self-described ultra-sadist so I’m honestly not surprised at all. Now then, out of everyone in Blue Lock, who have we seen get injured multiple times and need to be tended to? Rin. Not only that, but Rin’s predisposition to violence and getting hurt is a part of his truest nature. He was scolded and considered weird for it in his childhood and would become nervous if his parents were about to tell him off for his destructive tendencies. So imagine Hiori, someone who categorically does not mind that Rin is this way, wants to help bandage him up and tend to his injuries, and never once scolds him. We know from the U-20 match that Hiori’s first instinct is to ask Rin if he’s alright and help him, but now there’s the added layer that Hiori would enjoy seeing this side of Rin, not being weirded out or put off by it. I think for Rin that would be a massive relief. Hiori wouldn’t be actively trying to hurt Rin or encourage him to get injured all the time, but he would accept Rin for the way he is and never be disappointed if Rin turned up bloodied and battered, in need of bandaging up.

We also got other info which I think can be used for hiorin too. Hiori is now a confirmed Dead By Daylight player, and since that’s a multiplayer horror game I think he would enjoy playing it with Rin (who as far as we can tell only plays horror games). Specifically, Hiori likes to play the killer, so Rin would get the thrill of fighting for his life even if it destroys him while Hiori gets an outlet for his own sadistic mindset.

In the character rankings, Rin and Hiori were ranked 1st and 2nd respectively for who would most likely have psychic powers. Hiori also ranked first for ‘best listener’ meanwhile Rin ranked first for ‘worst listener’. Rin might be hard to get along with but Hiori is the immovable object to Rin’s unstoppable force.

Then of course there’s the stuff we already knew from the Twitter QnAs. Hiori and Rin both love ochazuke. They both game. Hiori’s favourite season is the rainy season which nicely compliments Rin’s connection to water.

Honestly we have so much fuel to work with. Hiorin doesn’t get a lot of canon material at all in the main manga so it’s nice that the extra info provides so much fuel. I doubt any of it is intentional but we have a really nice basis to work with regardless.

[prentissluvr]

need sam winchester biblically and its such a crime i can't be binging spn rn, but that does mean i will be thinking about him all the time without spending said time watching him which means i will have thoughts about him which means i will have time to write for him which means that folks should send me sam requests i promise i'm nice and a decent writer heheheh

[firenati0n]

and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life

by firenati0n on ao3

T | 9999

tags: city of angels au, guardian angel henry, lawyer alex, 5+1, dual pov, hurt/comfort, angst with a HAPPY ENDING! NOT THE MOVIE ENDING I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“In all the years, across all the universes, in the midst of all these people…you saw me. You felt me somehow. A gossamer fine thread connecting us, yet you grasped and tugged and held on tight. If losing my wings means I gain you, then that is a loss I will bear with gratitude.”

Five times Guardian Angel Henry yearns for a truly human sensory experience, and the one time he feels them all at once. Or, Henry discovers the joys of humanity through Alex’s eyes, finds himself, and falls in love. Or, Henry takes a leap of faith, and Alex catches him.

xoxo roop

also i know i talked about this in literally january so tagging some folks who expressed interest in this in the past pls don't mind me <3 ilysm xoxo

@ninzied @suseagull04 @onward--upward @duchessdepolignaca03 @@candyspandemonium @anincompletelist @inexplicablymine @heysweetheart-writes @wordsofhoneydew @nocoastposts @onthewaytosomewhere @magicandarchery @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @littlestar2911 @leaves-of-laurelin @tinyarmedtrex @galitzine-nick @anchoredarchangel @gltzine @getmehighonmagic @thirdeye1234 @movetoheavens @starkfridays @indestructibleheart @littlemisskittentoes @songliili @theprinceandagcd @gay-flyboys

[mintyeve322]

for anyone concerned by my writing style on my posts that my fic(s) might have no capital letters, random capital letters, or some other issue, i just wanted to clarify i type posts and messages very different from stories.

in stories I'll use proper punctuation, capitalization, spelling, and grammar. (at least to the best of my ability) i just couldn't give two shits about that stuff while I'm rambling here.

just a warning or heads up, haha.

anyway, so that we're on topic, fiddlestan time below the cut.

I think their relationship is pretty quick to take off but slow to be official. i feel like Stan is so starved for affection that she's scared to acknowledge her feelings, especially since affection is sometimes just "platonic girl stuff". don't worry stan, overly affectionate heterosexual female friends drive me insane too.

on Fidd's part, i think she is hesitant to make things official because at first she's not sure if her feelings are genuine or if she's accidentally using Stan, but once she realized thats not it, she's still hesitant to say anything because she doesn't wanna make Stan uncomfortable if she's not right about her feelings.

Fidds is a people pleaser and unhinged as hell before she uses the memory gun, let alone afterwards, so she for sure has made or aquired some crazy shit as gifts for Stan. She for sure has made her at least one robot that malfunctioned and had to be decommissioned, she bought Stan a fish, I'll do some fish research to figure out what kind later but it has some sort of significance, to occupy the empty tank in the shack since Frilliam is lost at sea. She's probably helped Stan make exhibits and made a cryptid up that reminds her of Stan. I feel like she'd get gifts for Stan constantly, and Stan wouldn't know how to act about it because her instinct is to be skeptical of kindness but Fidds was her sister's friend and she hasn't asked Stan for anything in return and she doesn't know why.

Related to Stan's belief that affection is transactional, if Fidds ever gets nervous about the portal or if Stan keeps something from her, like why she got arrested last night or where she found a part and Fidds says she owes Fidds an explanation, Stan will shut down and probably cry in her room for an hour.

Stan is VERY worried that Fidds is gonna reveal one day that she's only there for some sort of payment or gain on her end, and if she even implies that Stan owes her something, Stan will spiral until Fidds is able to figure out the problem and apologize, even if she agrees that she does owe Fiddleford something for all she's done.

Related to this, there's probably a period of time where Fidds is working really hard, to the bone, for Stan. She hates not feeling useful and may have hit a road block she's trying to push through or something, and when Stan tells her to take a break, she interprets it as a sarcastic "just let me do it, idiot" comment and not the "please take a break im worried about you" way stan intended it, due to the fact Ford, with her one track mind, has been harsh to her in that way before.

Fidds is apologetic and swears she's almost got it she just needs more time and please don't maker her leave she promises she can do it, and Stan has to basically grab her, look her in the eyes, and tell her she just needs to take a break and come back later. Fidds says she just wants to be useful for Stan, and Stan tells her she doesn't care if she's useful, she just needs her there and burning herself out working on the project is not worth it. they have a long conversation about how even if fidds never worked on the project again Stan would still want her around and its sad and fluffy.

also a thing where stan gets frustrated and implies Fidds isnt useful and has to comfort her and insist that isn't what she meant because it genuinely wasn't what she meant agh i love miscommunication hurt/comfort

idk im rambling and i feel like we're all so busy unpacking Stan's trauma we forget that Fidds has very real trauma from her work with Ford that has plenty of hurt/comfort potential as well.

[foundfamilywhump]

truly i don't care who thinks it's stupid or boring or "doesn't count" or can't be as intense as what they think of as "real whump" or whatever else, whump with comfort and recovery and caretaker(s) is always going to be my style of whump and i'm gonna have a blast vibing with people who also enjoy that

[not-poignant]

people: what genre to you write?

me: what genres do you have?

people: i beg your pardon?

me: how many do you have?

people: ...no it's... no it's not- it's a simple question, you pick a genre and...

me: can i have ten?

people: so if you write ten different stories you can-

me: -can i put 10 in the same story?

people: ...it tastes better if you just have one.

me: eleven is my lucky number, make a wish!

people: huh?

me: ELEVEN GENRES! HAHA!

people: okay so...um. alright. fine. what are the genres?

me: what?

people: what are those eleven genres?

me: how many do you have?

people: /visibly angry/ YOU TOLD ME ELEVEN

me: okay cool you can figure them out /passes them a story/

people: /holding the story like a book by the corner after it's been soaking in a used toilet for several days/ i don't want this

me: /quietly passing the people more genres/

people: who are you

me: /passes more genres/

people: STOP. GIVING. ME. GENRES. AND. PICK. ONE.

me: hurt/comfort

people: ...a real one.

me: hurt/comfort

people: a real one that i can find in a bookstore

me: /confused face/ but my books aren't in bookstores, i'm writing serials

people: /screaming at the sky/

me: /bouncing in excitement/

people: give. me. a. real. genre.

me: okay how many do you have?

people: /walk away/

me: c: c: c:

[redninjaoutfit]

"why don't you hang out with your brother?" "he's at his new girlfriend's house"

You genuinely do not understand the emotional impact these two sentences had on me. I didn't respond sooner because this ask actually pushed me to write a whole ass oneshot about Colt and Lucky based on this. I've been sat here in my pajamas doing nothing but writing.

SO. ENJOY. IDK IF ITS GOOD BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND KNOW IT DESTROYED ME EMOTIONALLY. (below the cut cause its long as shit)

4386 words of unfiltered angst hurt/comfort.

His brother's soulmate

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

The bell signalling the beginning of the next class rang out loudly, piercing the ears of nearby students and rousing birds out of the branches of surrounding trees. In their rush towards the main entrance, no one detected the hasty, light steps and delicate gush of wind passing through like a ghost, unaware that someone fortunate enough to avoid the oppressive authority of the school prefects had slipped through the front gate, completely unnoticed. The truant in question darted absentmindedly towards nearby shrubbery leading to Bullworth Town, unlit cigarette sitting patiently between his paint-blotched fingers, other hand smoothing the copper mane his older friends enjoyed tussling so much.

Colt De Luca, a Bullworth freshman and member of the feared and respected Greaser clique, could feel his legs moving yet had no idea where he was headed. He let his body take him wherever as he busied himself with searching his pockets for a lighter acquired off Ricky in the parking lot mere moments earlier.

After successfully retrieving the small object and lighting the tip of his very last cancer stick, Colt took a vigorous drag and felt his lungs burning, instantly relieving some of the stress off his mind. Granted a moment of clarity, the Greaser looked around. He found he’d already made his way over to the main road leading towards the path heading to New Coventry, his own place of residence.

Looks like it was yet another day of aimless wandering ahead of him.

While Colt was not usually one to skip school, having been brought up to value education and consider its impact on his future, today was different - much different - he thought to himself as he bitterly kicked the pebble which had the audacity to find itself in his way. Colt’s mind seemed preoccupied with thoughts and anxiety from the very moment he woke up and rose off his paper thin mattress and continued through the few classes he chose to attend and do badly in. Frustration kept him on the edge of his seat as the teachers talked and talked and asked invasive questions and refused his requests for a bathroom break (which they rightfully suspected would turn into a smoke break). Not even his trusty sketchbook helped soothe his irritable mind and upon hearing the dreaded ring of the bell, nothing could keep the boy inside the confines of the stone walls of the academy.

Colt’s anger was not unfounded yet as he traversed the decrepit streets of New Coventry he could not help but cringe at the memory of his friends’ concern throughout the day. Many of them have come around to inquire about his well being, sought him out of their own volition while he hid and ran. Norton offered to lend a comforting ear. Ricky asked if he wanted to ride around town after school. Lefty remained on his tail break upon break, attempting to get him out of his own head with chatter. Hell, even Johnny, the aloof, tough king of the Greasers said they should ditch and talk. Colt, regretfully, dismissed them all. He didn’t need their help, he could do this on his own, he was grown now.

Grownups don’t mope about the anniversary of their parents’ death.

Colt took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it onto the side before its remains could burn him, stomping it out with his dirty loafer. He looked at the pitiful bud for a moment before averting his eyes, reminded much to his dismay of his current appearance. “I probably looked like a pathetic kicked puppy right now, damn it.” He thought to himself bitterly and headed for one of New Coventry’s many sketchy alleyways.

He’s fourteen years old, fifteen in a few months. Practically a grown man, hanging around the most dangerous and intimidating group in the whole school (excluding the Jocks, but Colt didn’t like to think about the roid monkeys if he could help it). He should have already learned how to deal with grief a long time ago, should have forgotten about the whole ordeal either way since he was merely a baby by the time he became an orphan. He had no right to miss the people he didn’t even know. Yet the stabbing in his heart and tightness in his throat he felt at the moment were just as intense as when he was first yelled at by his uncle after bashfully handing him a Father’s day card he was forced to make in school. Or when neighbourhood children tripped him onto a busy road and asked if he’d tattle to his mommy. Or when he was scowled at by teachers for being brought to school by a boy not much older than him instead of an adult. 

In previous years though, as juvenile and immature as it was, he had someone to share that grief with. None of his friends could understand better than that person did, for good reason too. He’d take young Colt out to do anything to get their minds off their parents, visit their favourite hotdog stand, wander around surrounding fields with no purpose at all, ride around on bikes from sunrise till dawn. They’d religiously visit their parents’ joined grave, year by year, and talk. Touch on things they normally would, couldn’t, and those conversations brought them closer than ever before.

This year was different, however. Colt would have to grow up and be brave on his own, since the jerk didn’t care about him-

Just as Colt was about to descend down the winding path behind the Tenements a small, familiar hand roughly grasped his upper arm, violently ripping him out of his own thoughts. He smelled the smoke before he even turned around to glance at the person with irked, surprised eyes.

Standing behind him was Lefty, his best friend, in all his jean jacket-clad, greased up glory, though the intimidating effect of his appearance was dampened by how out of breath he looked, coughing small droplets of black tar onto the pavement below their feet. Yet his grip on Colt’s arm never weakened.

“Dude, why do you have t’ be so fast?” Lefty gasped, straightening his back yet still appearing winded “Ya got a bounty on yer head or somethin’?”

Why was Lefty even there to begin with, though? Colt knew the little Greaser still had two more classes and though he often skipped school, some days entirely, he usually hid away from the prefects in the labyrinthine path toward the Autoshop. That, or he hung around the Blue Balls Casino, smoking it up to the point where they had to let it air out before entering.

He chose not to pry, however. He just wanted to hide somewhere, even if it was from who he considered a brother from another mother. Especially since his real one…

Colt sighed and looked away, feigning interest in nearby anti-Greaser graffiti.

“Not that I know of. Why are you even chasing me, shouldn’tcha be getting your beauty sleep in Slawter’s class right now?” retorted Colt, more venom in his voice than he would have wanted. He couldn’t even control himself with his best friend, what a child, he chastised himself, fists clenching.

Unbeknownst to him, Lefty had begun moving away from the alleyway as they talked, grip firm on his brooding friend as they slowly traversed the sidewalk rounding their designated yet dilapidated hangout spot. Truth be told, the chainsmoker had been worried about his childhood bud for a few days now. It was not uncommon for Colt to grow snappy and sad as they neared this time of the year, when leaves grew yellow and air crisped yet the avid painter found no drive to capture such picturesque sights. That was usually when he and the other Greasers stepped in - though emotional maturity was decidedly not their forte - to mitigate the bad moods of two of their clique members. That was when they partied the hardest, laughed the loudest, got up to most comedic hijinks they could think of and led actual in-depth discussions about things left untouched any other time of the year. The 50’s enthusiasts had their own, unique ways of showing each other they cared and, though unconventional, they usually worked.

This year was different and Lefty spotted it instantly. As the mid-October grew closer, nothing seemed to soothe Colt and the desperation Lefty felt witnessing his best friend’s pain was unlike any other. Unaware, or rather left in the dark about the reason for such an abrupt change (because he asked, many times at that!) he tried everything to make it better, which, ironically, did nothing. Which is why, having lost sight of Colt, Lefty turned to his friends to see if they’d caught wind of him anywhere in the academy.

Ricky, the ever-worrier, was the first person Lefty approached. He knew their resident mechanic usually had the most intel on all of their whereabouts since he usually obsessed over the people in his life to an unhealthy degree (such as his ex, but he didn’t like to talk about that). When asked about Colt, the older Greaser looked around the Autoshop’s entrance tentatively where he could only see Peanut and Vance having an animated conversation, upon which he leaned in, cigarette nearly falling from behind his ear.

“Don’t tell Lucky but I saw him dashin’ out of the front gate and haven’t seen him return since. Also might have given him a lighter, I ain’t proud of it but the kid was insistent.” Ricky confessed bashfully, smoothing the back of his pompadour, concerned expression never dropping from his face.

“Big deal, like we don’t all smoke.” Lefty muttered under his breath, shaking his head curtly. That was one thing he’d never been able to see eye to eye on with Lucky, he and Colt were barely four years younger than him and the rest of the Seniors yet when they smoked like a chimney it was okay. But enough about that.

“Why would Colt skip, though? He’s too nerdy for that, even on this day…” Lefty wondered.

“Don’t know dude, I’ve just been waitin’, hoping he’ll return before Luck sees and loses his shit. Hey, it wasn’t that long ago that he scrammed, maybe YOU can go bring our baby bro back since you seem to, ya know, be playin’ hooky too?” Ricky quipped playfully, looking at his watch to see it was already fifteen minutes since class began.

Which is how Lefty found himself in his current predicament, meandering the dirty streets of New Coventry, Colt in tow, head down as they traversed quietly. The silence was not awkward yet held an air of tension and sadness Lefty tried his best to signal a will to converse about through his pointed stares which, unfortunately, went completely unnoticed. Colt seemed lost in his own head, even more so than usual around the date of the anniversary. Lefty did not want to press but could simply not allow his friend to silently suffer any longer.

He led Colt towards a familiar, comforting path towards the abandoned, destroyed playground behind an old pizza parlour in a similar degree of upkeep. Since the closure of the restaurant many years back, the playground on its premises had been used exclusively by its undesignated audience of troublemakers, urban explorers and junkies who sought a secluded place to shoot it up in. It also just so happened to be where Lefty and Colt hid away since childhood when all seemed too overwhelming, when the world was just too big, their family issues too stifling.

The jean-clad Greaser moved the large carton box covering the entrance hole out of the way and bent down to pass, looking back at Colt as he went. His friends seemed aware of his surroundings at least, in his state of depression, as he mimicked Lefty’s movement and soon they stood in front of the hazardously rusty playground equipment, unmoving. Lefty saw it as his chance.

“OK dude, trust me, I know today’s rough on ya but I can see it’s worse than usual. What’s gotten into ya?” Upon receiving a deafening spur of silence in response, Lefty continued, attempting to look his friend in the eyes “I mean… skippin’ school, smokin’, ignorin’ us, to hell with the guys, ignorin’ me. It’s just… If something’s eatin’ ya up I wanna be able ta help and it clearly is.”

Desperate for any sort of answer, Lefty felt himself beginning to ramble, getting closer so he could put his hand on Colt’s shoulder in a - hopefully - consoling manner.

“And if you don’t wanna tell me, why don’t you hang out with yer brother? You know Lucky would be down to skip and drive around with you, he don’t like Maths anyway, you’d be doin’ him a favor.”

That seemed to finally get a reaction out of the artist, not one Lefty was hoping for, however, as the mournful Greaser sucked in a breath too quick to conceal and stiffened up under his arm. In the mere seconds their eyes met, Lefty saw pain and frustration and an unexpected glisten and moments later, Colt made a dash towards the entrance they had just breached.

Lefty hurriedly dove after him, grasping his arm much akin to how he caught him earlier in front of the Tenements.

“No gettin’ out of this one now buddy. Tell me what’s goin’ on and what’s it got to do with yer bro.” he stated, uncharacteristic severity in his voice as he led Colt towards the nasty, rusted swing set, other hand instinctively reaching for the full pack of smokes in his pocket “We’ve got all day, I may not be patient but for you, Imma sit here in silence till spooky hours till you’se in the mood to spill.”

Though the last part of his sentence may have been humorous, not even a hint of a smirk graced his face as he lowered himself carefully onto the squeaking swing and took out a cigarette out the box. His friend mimicked him wordlessly, sagging against his own seat’s cable, hand reaching out in unsaid request of his own cancer stick. Lefty did not hesitate before handing it over, bringing the tips of the cigarettes together before lighting them at once.

For a few solemn minutes, the two friends sat and filled their lungs with smoke, the only sound penetrating the silence between them being the croaking of the playground equipment around them and cars whooshing by on the other side of the fence. A light gust of wind tousled their hair from time to time, blowing the smoke back into their eyes, though neither gave it much consideration, lost in their own thoughts. Lefty wondered and pondered, unused to deep thought processes and obviously unaware of what exactly went down between the brothers on a day to day basis. To him, they seemed as in cahoots with one another as they usually were, albeit more glum with the anniversary of their parents’ passing around the corner. Having practically grown up alongside the De Luca siblings, Lefty felt he could confidently judge when the two had just had a falling out and despite Colt’s terrible mood Lucky appeared his regular self.

“He wouldn’t.” A meek voice disturbed his train of thought.

Lefty glanced over questioningly at his best friend who was mid cigarette drag, hands visibly shaking, brimming with anxious energy. Colt pushed himself absentmindedly back and forth on the swing with the heels of his loafers, the motion soothing to the Greaser, albeit barely. Noticing Lefty’s steely, concerned gaze, he coughed and continued.

“He wouldn’t. Be down to hang, that is. He uh… he’s goin’ over to his girl’s place today. Stayin’ the night too…” Colt mumbled and twisted his head away completely from his friend, cigarette long forgotten, burning dangerously close to his fingers and trailing ash on his pants.

Why had he even said anything at all? He wasn’t the only one who was growing older, Lucky, who’d always taken care of him, who’d always been there for him, who'd given up so much to raise both of them since their uncle couldn’t give a rat’s ass about them. He had grown too, into a respectable young adult at that, as respectable as he could be given their life circumstances. Despite being a notorious ladies man in the past, in recent months he���d been trying to actually make things work with a girl he met in their uncle’s shop. His undisputed charm worked its magic on her but contrary to his usual flings, so did hers. Lucky was actually serious about this girl, introducing her to his way of life, to his friends and (until that point, at least) the most important person in his life, his little brother Colt.

He was not jealous. At first. Jealousy is juvenile, after all. He enjoyed her presence, rather motherly, she was the calm to his fiery nature, the ying to his yang. She liked all of his hobbies and shared her own with him, some of which Lucky would never have considered uptaking in fear of them not being manly or tough enough. She was there for him through thick and thin, helped him destress and relax and take his mind off things when burnout approached since he was such a terrible workaholic. In turn, he showed her real fun, a rough, dangerous edge of the town and the Greaser way of life. Encouraged her towards spontaneity previously foreign to her.

They were a fantastic influence on each other, one could (and did, such as Lola) call them soulmates who healed a little bit each time they gazed into each other's eyes.

And Colt selfishly wished he could be such a person for Lucky.

Hence why, upon receiving the news of his brother spending the anniversary of their parents’ death, which the two of them usually bonded on, at his girlfriend’s place in a little village some distance away from Bullworth, something inside of Colt broke. The little boy inside of him, so painfully and tenderly helpless, desperately grasping onto his big brother’s hand like a lifeline fell onto the grainy sidewalk and watched his only support crutch walk away without looking back. He could not cry, he could not show weakness, yet he could not get up on his own either, left to rot and slowly melt into the pavement beneath.

He knew he had to be mature. To grow up one day. Let go of Lucky who did not deserve to have been forced to play parent for so many years. Let him lead his own life after he’d already shaped so much of himself to accommodate Colt's unseemly form. But he didn’t feel ready. Despite his desperate, unfair battle against his own feelings and his tormentor’s allegations, Colt knew deep down he was still just a silly, desperate child, incapable of fending for himself in the real world just as they had suspected all along.

He felt a hot, fat tear rolling down his cheek before he quickly rubbed it away with unwarranted force. Impulsively confessing something ridiculous to his best friend was one thing but letting him see him cry? Colt couldn’t handle that level of embarrassment. He’d already wallowed in self-pity in front of other people enough for his liking.

Before Lefty could form a response, Colt tossed the remains of his cigarette down into the sand below them, burying it with the tip of his shoe and standing up abruptly, not regarding his friend with the slightest of glances.

“I’m okay though, don’t worry ‘bout me man, ‘s just the usual. At least he’ll be havin’ fun. Let’s go back to school, I’ll mope ‘round a bit and then I’ll be good.” Colt began moving towards the exit of the playground, a faux smile plastered over his features. He knew it showed in his eyes which were still as mournful as before and although he realised that Lefty was not dumb enough to believe him, he’d hoped he was negligent enough to drop it.

The other Greaser had different plans, however.

While Lefty would not argue with the others saying he had the emotional intelligence of a fruitfly, he also considered it one of his greatest weaknesses and felt nothing was worse than when he wanted to comfort a friend and failed miserably due to his attitude of actions over words. His own upbringing and parents did not grant him much opportunity to develop a sense of maturity required to handle such intense situations and he fumbled with his words, stumbling and landing head first before he could even attempt to console the other person, which had ironically happened with Colt more times than he could count. The artistic Greaser was much more mature in that sense yet never judged him for his inadequacy.

Today was different.

Lefty caught up with Colt, placing a tentative hand on his leather-covered back, his long hair just barely tickling his fingertips as the other came to a half, short of bending down to the hole in the fence.

“‘S that why you’ve been so depressed these past couple ‘a days? ‘Cause Lucky ain’t gonna be here today fer you today?” Lefty inquired carefully, not a drop of judgement in his voice.

Colt spared him a measured glance, insecurity clouding his judgement as he convinced himself he saw humour within the icy gaze of his friend. He shrugged off his hand.

“I know it’s fuckin’ ridiculous and childish of me, okay. Let’s just move on and go back ta class.”

Lefty, indignant, stopped the advancing boy in his tracks with his elevated tone.

“Dude, FUCK class.” He spun Colt around to face him directly without a hint of hesitation “You need to hear this right now, you ain’t ridiculous, you ain’t childish, and ya certainly don’t gotta force yaself to be okay today. I’m not gonna sit here ‘n listen to ya talk about my friend like that.”

Both held uncertain breaths, not looking away from each other, one set of steel meeting sky blue in a desperate attempt at reading the other’s mind, hoping to make the message stick. Lefty knew deep down that if he let his friend go, he’d never let himself live that fact down. He clicked his tongue and continued, struggling to think of the right way to articulate his thoughts.

“It fuckin’ sucks, that you’se breakin’ a tradition like that. I know yer bro means the world to ya and nothin’ will ever replace him. But… you ain’t alone, with or without Luck. Maybe we don’t tell ya enough but you got the guys, you got me, I’m not gonna let you forget.” Lefty felt the corner of his own mouth twitch upward for a moment “Matter of fact, since you’se not busy with Lucky, I’m takin’ you out, gettin’ yer mind off it all-”

Colt attempted to butt in, shaking his head adamantly, a horrified blush gradually spreading across his features. “I couldn’t make you do that! You don’t gotta-”

“But I wanna!” Interjected Lefty, growing giddy by the second “Man, I want you to be happy. I want you to see you’se not alone. And I wanna hang out!” He assured, smiling with his teeth now.

“We can do whatever you want man, throw firecrackers at the coppers, ride ‘round the town, stay out ‘n sleep outside somewhere like bums. Hell, we can even go visit yer parents together… if you’se good on that…” Now was Lefty’s turn to smooth his hand over his pomp nervously, hoping he didn’t cross a boundary.

A quick glance upon Colt’s awestruck expression told him all he needed to know.

“Just… don’t isolate yerself from me, Colt. I’d rather see you bawl yer eyes out than have’ta wonder what’s got you down in the dumps. Lucky’s not the only one who cares about ya you know.”

He did know now.

It took a moment for Colt to collect himself after such an outburst from his usually humorous and emotionally unavailable best friend. The shaking in his limbs subsided as he carefully considered Lefty’s spontaneous stream of consciousness, gratitude clouding the sheer awkwardness of the moment and the embarrassment he felt at his impromptu venting session. While he still missed Lucky and felt lost without him by his side, he could now approach the situation with more assurance, his dearest companion in clear support even through his withdrawal and depressing attitude.

Therefore, after exhaling deeply, his gaze traversed over to his friends wherein he nodded, more enthusiastically than he thought possible mere hours before, agreeing to Lefty’s primitive yet endearing idea of consolation.

The rest of the day, albeit undeniably sombre and glum, was spent by the two best friends on their feet, causing unwarranted mischief to their beloved neighbours, wandering aimlessly and basking in each other’s presence. They did, to Colt’s alleviation and Lefty amazement, visit the marble headstone of Mr. and Mrs. De Luca and though Lefty’s presence in Lucky’s place was strange at first, it felt natural, as the chainsmoker encouraged him to retell tales of their childhood afore the couple’s passing, a request with which he complied enthusiastically.

Colt felt no need to remark that most of them he'd only learned from his brother.

Hours later and much after curfew, Colt and Lefty laid on a patch of desolate green grass outside of the dirt path surrounding New Coventry. Fully clothed, not caring whether the blades stained their garments green, they conversed calmly, though the events of the day were starting to take a toll on their energy levels. Conversation drifted lazily, their faces only illuminated by the wide array of stars visible to the naked eye outside of their polluted neighbourhood and the glow of the moon bestowing upon them the ability to look each other in the eye from time to time, snickering at one another’s drained expressions.

From where he resided, Colt was sure that through squinted eyes he could see his mom and dad smiling down on him from up above, telling him it was all going to be okay.

He hoped Lucky saw that too, wherever he was.

[wickjump]

y’all are so lucky my drafts stay drafts

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Okay pray for me bc I FINALLY have writing inspo AND ideas for writing itself and although they’re not my current WIPs they are two oneshot ideas that I am so excited to write and hope a few certain moots enjoy too ;D 🥰 (cough cough Toffee cough cough Howl cough cough)

So please pray I don’t lose it so I can post one today and the other tomorrow (hard maybe) 🤞

[hazbinarchives]

Masquerade (Hide Your Face So The World Will Never Find You)

Characters: Angel Dust, Charlie Warnings: panic attacks, mention of violence and abuse, abusive relationships Ship(s): briefly mentioned Chaggie (charlie x vaggie), implied HuskerDust (angel dust x husker) Set: S1 E4 Tags: soft, charlie/angel friendship, abuse, hurt/comfort, pre-huskerdust, established chaggie Words: 1805 ❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂~❂

Angel had known it would be a rough day from the moment he had woken up that morning. Val had already been giving him shit for the past week since he moved into the hotel and hearing the constant love bombing and death threats were starting to get tiring.

An emergency shoot was the last thing he needed on his plate.

Then, of course, there was Charlie.

There was something so utterly terrifying about seeing Charlie in Valentino's studio. The way she looked around so innocently clashed violently with the naked bodies walking around and the smell of cigars and booze.

Angel felt his body move almost as if on autopilot. He was shoving the demon pinning him to the bed and scrambling to grab his robe, Angel's eyes seeming stuck on Charlie.

All he knew was that he desperately needed to get to Charlie before Val did.

Angel snatched Charlie's wrist as soon as she was within reach, looking around in a blind panic.

"What in the ever-loving-fuck are you doing here?!"

"I am the Princess of Hell, Angel! And I will go where I please!" Charlie had said in a snooty royal accent. Angel, who normally loved her antics though he'd never show, could feel his eye twitch and his heart race as he tried to usher her out of the studio. "I'm here to get you some time off for the hotel. Now where's your boss?"

Of fucking course.

Angel took a shuddering breath, pulling Charlie back to where she entered from.

"You are going nowhere near Val--"

The thought of her this close to Valentino made Angel feel physically ill. He could throw up. Probably would later. He just needed to get Charlie out of there.

But then again, when has Angel ever gotten anything he wanted.

Val was as impatient as ever and soon locked eyes on the princess.

Angel's breathing picked up and he felt something sharp and angry claw through his rib cage. Fear was choking him so viscerally as Val swooped close and examined Charlie like he was checking her quality.

Angel winced, anger pricking inside as Val's tongue slithered along Charlie's arm in place of a greeting like a fucking normal person.

"I just wanted to come to aggressively kindly talk to you about Angel--" Charlie had started and Angel flailed, not even sure if he was breathing at this point. "Later! Of course. I wouldn't wanna stand in the way of your work!"

Angel froze as Valentino turned to face him, feeling ice drip into his veins at the rage simmering off of the overlord. No one was allowed to get in the way of Valentino's work, Angel knew he had killed for less.

But...Val didn't do anything. He just went back to directing.

Still, Angel didn't breathe.

And it only got worse and worse.

Charlie was just trying to be helpful and Angel knew that but she always got into things she had no business being a part of. She never should have been here, she never should have gotten on Val's radar.

Angel felt his lungs seize and he was forced to inhale, a wave of dizziness washing over him. Val's red glow was intimidating as he dissipated all the fire Charlie's clumsiness caused.

"Angel~ Can I see you in your dressing room for a moment?" Valentino was already walking towards Angel's room and Angel was hot on his heels, not even able to give Charlie a second glance.

Fear rippled through him as words spilled from his lips hoping to explain.

Of course, Valentino didn't want to hear his explanations. He just wanted another guarantee that Angel's body and soul were whole-heartedly his. It was a sickening gesture of something that should feel intimate.

Angel could hear his heart pounding in his ears as an electric buzzing flooded into his limbs making it hard to resist Valentino tossing him about, all he could think of was getting Charlie out of there.

"Look, V-Val, she just gets involved in everything. I-I'll tell her to leave! Just don't hurt her..."

Valentino acting violently in response wasn't out of the ordinary. Keep Charlie safe was running on repeat in his head. Angel knew how to get her out.

He grunted as he was tossed to the bed and his heart ached fiercely at her justified anger but Angel had to do what he could to keep her safe. He needed her to be safe

"You actually wanna help me? Get the fuck outta here right now...and let me finish my work."

Angel felt his aching heart crack as Charlie's eyes filled with tears. He stayed unempathetic to her. He couldn't risk faltering or it would put them both in danger.

When Charlie ran out the doors, sobbing, it took everything within Angel not to cry as well.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry Charlie

It wasn't until after arguing and making up with Husker that Angel remembered how he and Charlie left off. They had walked into the hotel talking and laughing after the whole fight outside the bar when he saw Charlie heading up the stairs

She had looked down and spotted him, eye contact freezing them both in place. Charlie was the one to break it first, looking away before giving them both a wave and turning back up the stairs.

Angel watched her go, chest suddenly full of an overwhelming ache.

"You gonna go talk to her?"

Angel blinked and saw Vaggie leaning against the bottom staircase column.

"Isn't checking on the princess your job as her girlfriend or some shit?" Angel tried to play it off, rubbing a hand across the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, it is," Vaggie agreed. "But, I feel like you both could use a friend right now instead."

Angel stared at the ground, his hand flexing as Vaggie and Husk seemed to watch him. It didn't make him want to cringe and hide though. It didn't make him feel scared like he does with Val. He felt safe.

"I wouldn't go that far," Angel coughed, stepping up the first few steps. "I have to check on Fat Nuggets anyway. Might as well see if Her Majesty is okay. Raincheck on those drinks?"

Husk winked and headed to his bar, whistling with a little hop to his step which made Angel smile fondly.

He quickly shook himself out of it, ignoring Vaggie's knowing gaze, and walked very pointedly up to his bedroom first. Angel did actually have to check on his little piggy and grabbed a good amount of lettuce and some apple slices as well before scooping up Nuggets and heading to Charlie's room.

It was empty because of course it was empty.

Angel groaned and scratched Nuggets under his chin, walking up the stairs till he reached a dead-end hallway. It did, however, have a pull-down ladder from the ceiling that led to a little platform on the roof of the hotel. The ladder was already down which gave Angel hope that he had found Charlie.

He climbed the ladder and peeked his head up outside. Sure enough, Charlie was on the roof, watching the Pentagram as the sky's magenta started to turn to a dark plum color.

Fat Nuggets squealed happily as he saw Charlie and wiggled out of Angel's arms to run up to Charlie and give her a nuzzle.

Charlie jumped in surprise before cooing at Nuggets, giving his little head scritches. She turned and gave Angel a small, gentle smile as he climbed up and sat beside her on the roof, also watching the transition into Hell's Night.

"I'm sorry I made things hard for you at work today," Charlie spoke softly, almost like she was telling him a secret. "Something didn't feel right when you answered the phone. You didn't look like you wanted to go. I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Angel stared at Charlie half in awe at her big heart and half in fond exasperation.

"Charlie," He started, sighing. "My mess with Val? That's my mess, okay? It's not ideal but I'm working it out. It won't be like this forever."

Charlie sighed and leaned her head against Angel's shoulder. He froze in place, eyes wide and panicked as he looked down at her. Vaggie wasn't here so he didn't know what to do. He bit his lip before slowly reaching down and patting Charlie's head.

Angel didn't know how long they sat there, himself running his fingers through her blonde hair and Charlie leaning against Angel, her soft breathing and at-ease body language, as they fed Nuggets his dinner, showed him how much she truly trusted him.

He smiled down at her, feeling truly accepted by someone for the first time in a long time and now twice in one night. Angel knew he didn't want to disappoint her and felt that he truly had something to work towards getting out of his deal.

"Come on, Char," Angel soothed, his arms helping her sit up while two others picked up Fat Nuggets and tucked him against his side. "Time for bed."

Charlie whined at him, nuzzling into Angel's fluffy chest causing him to chuckle and scoop her up with his available arms.

Carefully, with his precious cargo, Angel made his way down the ladder. Vaggie was waiting at the bottom with a fond, knowing look in her eyes.

"She got you too," Vaggie teased him as Angel gently transferred Charlie into her partner's loving arms.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Angel scoffed, not able to stop the soft look on his face as Charlie snuggled into Vaggie, continuing to sleep. "How does she care so much?"

"I wish I knew," Vaggie chuckled, starting to head to their bedroom. "But she has plenty of love to give. You're her best friend, Angel. Never be afraid to reach out to us for help."

"Us?"

Vaggie paused at their door, turning her head to look at him. "I trust you with her, Angel. You are my friend too. If you need help, I am here."

Angel felt the stinging of his eyes and quickly looked away. It has been such a long time since he's had someone to rely on. Something that wasn't a substance but a person who genuinely wanted to see his improvement.

Angel walked into his own room, collapsing onto the bed with Fat Nuggets beside him, his body aching from all the work and abuse Val put him through. He curled up, facing his dresser where a picture of him and Cherri was tucked in the mirror. The other side had a picture from Sir Pen's first day that Angel secretly snatched.

What could he say? He loved his little family.

This time, they love him too.