#tw for abusive behaviour after this:

[bbeeew]

firm believer in the "hunter gets physical when stressed"

it's his trauma. He's trying to stop. And trying as in he probably sh's when he does.

[faebriel]

what do you think you’re gonna do with your fics now?

yeah that's the fun question isn't it

without a doubt all the fics i've written are staying on my ao3, that's final. those are mine. sucks that so many of them turned out to be centred about the work of a guy who sucks so bad, but those fics are mine

will finish they say we are asleep when i get back into my writing funk because he's not in it and this might be crass but not finishing a niki centric work because of something ccwilbur did would be so shit-ironic that i believe eagles would swoop down from the heavens to take me away (it might take a minute to get back to it though, my motivation has had a sledgehammer taken to it)

rousseaus man is a big question mark right now. there are people in this space who separate character from creator well imo. esp when no one streams this shit anymore and i don't really believe the ties to profit are as stark as like, his music. or the whole "well mammalian sighing reflex looks infinitely worse in hindsight" thing. but my writing process has always involved a lot of sitting with canon content and watching streams and hearing the ccs voices in my head until they're just right, and thinking about him in that way again pisses me tf off. i loved writing that fic but now thinking about it just makes me feel empty. maybe i'll come back to it in a while or maybe i'll just take the general themes of the powerlessness of being a young adult and slam dunk it into some ocs or something.

i don't really want to write fics about his character in future for the same reasons at least at this time. things could change but idk. so. yeah

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (02) none for me

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

alfred fears he's failed you.

you always were a quiet child, swallowing all the hurt you felt and buried it within your soul. he fears the hurt has consumed you.

he can't confidently say that he's done all he could for you, trying to manage the manor along with the other dysfunctional residents amd their nightly activities, which rendered him unable in giving you his undivided attention.

if he could to back, he would change it all in a heartbeat.

he vividly remembers the day commissioner gordon had phoned him about you, and was briefed about your background and the “accident” through the call, feeling a sense of relief that you had a somewhat normal background. when he saw you, he took that back. the chair you were on looked too big for your malnourished frame, the bandages swallowing your entire body and a couple bruises here and there. but what struck him were your eyes. they were so distant, bags heavy, with no light in them. the eyes that wordlessly show the hidden horrors you’ve been through.

you reminded him of bruce.

you were understandably skittish, settling into a completely new environment and seeing unfamiliar faces that you just had to accept were your now family. he assumed that with time you'd be able to overcome it after mourning the loss of your aunt, along with the help of everyone welcoming you with open arms and getting you accustomed to your new life as part of their family.

yet, that never happened.

he sees them dismiss you.

he’s seen you stand politely outside bruce’s office until he’s done with his tasks before requesting something (the bare necessities), all because previously, the first time (and only time) you had mistakenly interrupted his meeting in order to hand him the papers that alfred had asked you to, bruce had raised his voice at you for being a nuisance.

he’s seen the way you stare at dick when he interacts with the other members, showering them in brotherly love, yet walking past you like you were a piece of furniture, not noticing you.

he’s seen the way you had recommended jason books based on what he had read, only for him to scoff into your face and undermine your intellect, purposely limiting his interactions with you.

he’s seen the way you curiously looked through tim’s door that was left ajar, only for him to give you a scornful look and slamming it in your face, calling you annoying.

he’s seen the way you had agreed to every one of damian’s snide and hateful comments about how you were never good enough for the last name you do not hold, just because he was the only person who paid you any mind.

he's seen the way cassandra could easily read people, but never seemed to think you were worthy enough to give you the time of day, even while your eyes would try to find hers.

he's seen how easy it was for you to cry yet you never allowed yourself to do so, you'd curl your hands into tight fists until it pales and bleeds.

he’s seen the emptiness in your gaze when they’re locked on everyone during dinner, talking and engrossed in each other’s conversation, taking part of each other's lives while leaving you in the sidelines, standing at the doorway before you'd leave to your room, never joining them.

do they not see you?

a few months after you'd settled in, you had requested alfred that he would only really need to come clean your room once a week if at all, claiming that cleaning gives you a sense of control and there's a particular way it needed to be done. you rarely asked anything of him, you were self-sufficient to a fault, never allowing yourself to rely on anyone but yourself. he had offered to learn how you liked the cleaning to be done, but you remained unconvinced. so as to not overstep, he obliged.

he wished he didn’t. he sees you retreat further into yourself. he sees you spiral. he sees it all, yet was unable to stop it. he sees, but does nothing.

alfred cared. but that didn’t mean he could save you.

the weather was gloomy, the grey sky stretched on above you as you watched the soft puffs of smoke escaped from your lips floated up to join the clouds. the familiar comfort that a cigarette brings you feels like a blessing these days. smoking helps lift the weight that weighs heavy on your skull, you try to soothe it even more by pressing harshly against your eye with your other hand void of the burning cigarette. you know it's a bad habit that you should ideally kick, especially worse if you were caught by anyone, but do you actually care?

“thought i'd find you here.”

you don't even need to turn around, recognizing the voice too well.

“what is it this time?”

another voice chippers, the peaceful atmosphere you were surrounded in was interrupted. you sigh and put out the cigarette, waving your hand around to fan the smoke away from your only two friends. they both giggle and extend their arms towards you to pull you up.

“you know, with the amount you've smoked lately, alfred might find out. like, i can smell you before i see you.” they tut at you half-heartedly, watching you brush the dirt off your uniform.

it has become a routine for you, to linger behind after school ends at the more secluded areas, where you hide your bike inside the overgrown bushes (in fear of it being stolen yet again) and smoke away your troubles before making your way back. it's not a habit you started recently, you first smoked when you were working that shitty job to keep you and your aunt afloat, and having mental breakdowns behind the restaurant during break on every shift started to become too much of a nuisance, which was when a coworker had offered you theirs; but you can tell your friends could see that you've been turning to it more often.

with the chatter following behind, you start walking your bicycle towards the main gates of the school, ready to take your usual route home. occasionally joining in their conversations, you're about to bid your friends goodbye until you catch the weird looks the other students throw at you while trying to increase their distance. your hands tighten around the handlebars, trying to remain unfazed as you stood there.

you couldn't even consider yourself a complete social reject, you had tried to remain on everyone's good side to ensure a smooth educational experience: you were helpful and nice, you had good grades and were consistently the top 5 students in your year, and taking parts in various clubs and after school activities. however, no amount of effort could erase the somewhat unsettled look your classmates throw your way and the worried look you teachers would cast at you.

for once, you hoped to not be seen.

does the disdain come from how they never saw your family show up to anything that involved you? or was it because you were a tryhard? it's not like you did it to prove yourself to your family or classmates, but it was a good distraction from the numbness that's eating you whole. you don’t understand what you’ve done. you were clearly not lacking in terms of academic achievements and extracurriculars, so it only left your social life to be judged. your social circle, which only really included your 2 friends, are the sweetest and most supporting characters you’ve known despite being constantly ignored by others, so you come to conclude that you must be the problem. the duo gave you a worried glance, patting your shoulder as you stood there. “hey, don't mind them, you can't please everyone you know.” “yeah, you can't control everything! just let it go.” your other friend chimes in, pushing the back of your bike, prompting you all to walk again.

you smiled, your friends have always been your source of comfort, it was a bond you’ve built on trust and wordless understanding, they had been so compassionate about what you’ve been through even if you rarely opened up - they might be the only people keeping you sane. they understood you more than you did yourself.

you compose yourself and hop on your bicycle, turning back to wave at them. with a sigh, you pushed off, their silhouette fades into into the distance as the wind caresses your face while you pedal. you try not dread having to go back to the manor, enjoying the few short moments you feel at peace within your daily routine, you cycle on the familiar path you've taken countless times before - it's just another day to return to the house that was not your home.

damian was rummaging through your room. mostly out of boredom from roaming the countless empty halls within the manor absent-mindedly, walking past countless doors before he noticed yours. he really didn't have any malicious intentions, despite his distaste of your existence, he was not one to seek you out to make your life harder, he was above that - at least, that's what he believes.

there's not much to see in your room, a couple band posters peeling at the edges, books scattered next to the table lamp on the carpet, bed tidy but not neatly, opened notebooks on your desk. it fills him with contempt. you are less than: no prophecy to fulfil, no legacy to uphold - but also, no trauma to drag you down, your past a clean slate. sharing the same father, but not cut from the same cloth.

unlike him, you were ridiculously normal. unlike him, you were free.

maybe he resents you more than he initially thought.

his eyes lands on a small shirt hung on the wall, it might as well be baby attire.

it was a ragged looking thing, really. the colours worn off, the edges a little frayed but not from use, but rather the quality. curiously, he steps on your bed reaching for it to investigate further.

"what are you doing."

embarrassingly, damian did not care enough to get caught being nosy in your room in the first place. so when you opened your door that was oddly left ajar to see damian standing on your bed with his shoes on after a long day of school, he feels compromised. before he stumbles off your bed, his hand manages to snag the edge of the shirt, pulling it off the walls. your eyes finally catches on to what he was reaching for and your heart rate quickens.

despite how increasingly difficult it was for you to remain calm, you try to smile, "please give that back, damian" you're so nervous your hands almost shake trying to urge him to return it. damian feels humiliated being forced to confront the person whose room he was snooping through, so he fists the article tighter in his hand and snarls at you. seeing as he is not intending to return it, you take a cautious step forward, raising both of your arms.

like a threatened dog, he pushes you harshly with his entire body weight to make way for the door. you stumble back in shock, but grab onto his shoulder before he manages to leave your room. "damian, please, that's very important to me" you plead, trying to pry his fingers off it.

in damian's mind, this was no longer about what's yours, this was his power being questioned.

"you don't even need this rag anymore" he slaps your hand away. your patience wearing thin, frustration bubbling to the surface of your composure, you start forcefully trying to snatch it back. soon, you both were fighting for it, pulling back and forth. you were obviously at a disadvantage, but in your desperation, it didn't matter. you scream at him to let go.

and damian? he's starting to get entertained, having never seen you this emotional before. this was like a game to him, it's too easy to overpower you, so he drags the fight on despite you landing a few hits on him yourself - he's mocking you. the brawl continues, until the sound of fabric ripping stills you.

in your hand was nearly half of your shirt, the other half still firmly held in damian's grasp.

colour leaves your face, you stare in horror at the torn up shirt, not being able to utter a sound.

meanwhile, the fun was over for damian, so he saw no purpose in remaining in your room as he wordlessly let go of the fabric and walked out, stepping on it on the way as if for good measure.

you grabbed him by the shirt, eyes holding back tears. "that was the only thing left from my mother."

the revelation stills him, he feels bad, and he hates that he feels anything for you besides hatred.

"so? that's not my problem. it's not my fault your peasant of a mother couldn't afford anything else to leave you with" he taunts, "in fact, she couldn't even afford to raise you, so now you're here leeching off while haunting the manor with your unnecessary presence."

"what do you know about my mom" damian's eyes widen, taken aback by the seriousness in your tone, contrasting all the times defaulted into being a pushover when with him. you're so upset, your grip on his shirt tightens as you glare through the tears streaming down your face, "i didn't even get to know my mom!"

it's no surprise that with the ruckus that you both caused, it wouldn't have gone unheard. so when alfred came to check and inquire what all the noise was about, he witnessed you yell and push damian to the floor harshly. before you could even register alfred's presence, a force had struck you - your head snapped to the side while the sting starts to burn on your cheek.

alfred had slapped you. alfred. slapped. you.

you and damian stare at him in shock, alfred himself is in disbelief. what had he done? he tries to justify his actions to you, trying to make himself believe he did the right thing.

"damian is younger than you, as the older child you must understand. this is, in no way, an acceptable display as the older sibling."

surely you understand, you always do! he just feared things would have spiraled out of control. right? you're almost catatonic, eyes wide staring at him in disbelief, not believing your ears.

"you must understand."

he stares into your eyes, almost pleading that you'd forgive him. but all that was reflected in your gaze was a look filled with horror and betrayal.

you pushed through both of them, the call of your name falling on deaf ears, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door, locking it.

alfred cared, but not enough.

heyyyyyyyyyy 👋☺️... i uh.. may or may not have used actual events that happened to me in here #projecting am i right :heh: thank you for all your lovely comments 🫶 you're all so skibbidi it really helped motivate me (not to abandon my writing)! as always interactions are very appreciated ⊹ ࣪ ˖ (TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :yowaimo: @confused-they @hoeinthehouse @strwberryglass @heartjwonie @glitchmshade @bat1212 @buddee @eyeless-kun @thereeallink @icantcryicantstopcrying @bunbunboysworld @gh0str00m @wizzerreblogs @lazy-kari202 @dotomuses @gwyneveire @gh6st24 @roseapov @kore-of-the-underworld @kingshitonly @plsfckmedxddy @unknownloner1345 @moon-2232 @lilithquillete @v3vina @froggy-voidd @angrybuttooshorttofightyou @sami0169 @m3vlOvesu @pix-stuff @bunbunbread @agent-nobody-knows @cxcilla @horror-lover-69 @redkarmakai @mariadvorak @shirp-collector-of-fixations @batboygirlie @diejager @noclue-0 @sick2mystmch @novs9011 @kitkatkitmeow @crazycaoticsimp @majonla @hebaoffside

[mossangelll]

yandere!jinx x reader headcanons

thought i’d go into how yandere jinx would capture get you into a relationship ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

tw: abusive behaviour

i feel like there’s two pathways to getting in a relationship with her, both suck equally

pathway 1: she stalked you for a while before deciding to talk to you! she wanted it to be “organic” but she couldn’t just go in knowing nothing about you…what kind of impression would that make?

the first time she does speak to you she mentions some obscure ritual of yours that she should absolutely not know about…she distracts you with a confetti bomb

you fell for it

i love the idea that once you become friends she gives you gifts with tracking devices in them and you’re none the wiser - this is exactly why you need her to protect you! if she has your best interests at heart and can get away with something like that, who knows what someone with bad intentions could do to you!

since she’s past the stage of just being acquaintances with you, her mask starts to slip and her manipulative behaviour becomes more pronounced

first she guilt trips you into hanging out with her for longer periods of time, then she starts complaining about the fact you have other friends - she absolutely weaponises her abandonment issues even if she hates to talk about it in any other situation

before you know it you’re isolated from your family and friends and spend all of your time with jinx :3

she treats it like a 24/7 sleepover except you have to do what she says if you don’t want to be victim to her lashing out

pathway 2: she straight up kidnapped you and figured she can form a relationship with you once you’re captive (that is how dating works, right?)

you would come home from work one day to find a weird metal device laying on your pillow, your name spray painted onto it surrounded by love hearts

you’d fiddle with it for a bit before gas floods your room

you’re knocked out like a light and jinx drops down from the ceiling doing a happy dance

she won’t tell silco about it but he eventually realises something’s up when she starts to steal large amounts of food from the bar

he finds you in her den and demands jinx tell him what is going on

she dances around the topic (literally and figuratively) trying to buy her way out of it but when she sees the disapproving glare in silco’s good eye she deflates - she can’t keep you her little secret anymore

honestly she tells him a few too many details like wayyyyyyyy too many

even he was weirded out

but jinx is his daughter so she gets away with it as per usual

ok back to the kidnapping, when you come to you’re tied down to a surprisingly plush chair and jinx is ALL up in your space

like imagine a kid with their face smushed up to the vending machine glass, she’s so entranced when she has you

she just thinks you’re so cute when you’re sleeping!

of course she expected there to be some…growing pains so she makes sure to have her gun in plain sight - she doesn’t want you getting any fun ideas about “escaping”

if you’re aggressive and moody with her she honestly loves it

in her mind the fact you’re showing so much raw emotion proves you must love her (even if you’ve only known her for like 5 minutes)

however if you’re constantly screaming and begging to leave even after you’ve been in captivity for a while it would trigger her abandonment issues and she would snap

she just doesn’t get it. she makes you fun gadgets, does your hair, tries to get you to open up about yourself even though she already knows most things about you - why do you want to leave her so badly?

however, if you refuse to engage with her at all and completely blank out her existence her patience would run out very quickly

you’re her new fixation and she wants to get to unravel every layer of you, not feel unwanted

so she does some good old trauma bonding by dangling you over the edge of her workshop railing, eyes cold and a deep frown set into her face

in her defense she catches you right as you’re about to fall!

she embraces you, crying with you as she tells you that if she was anyone else (who didn’t love you as much as she did) they would have let you fall but she cares about you 🥺 she only meant to teach you a lesson about the real world 🥺

you’re so conflicted and scared; you know what she did was fucked up, but adrenaline pumps through your veins and you feel like you’re about to throw up, so you just accept her comfort

sometimes she leaves you all on your own in her workshop when she’s off doing odd jobs for silco and you begin to crave human connection so deeply that when jinx suggests a spa night with cuddles at the end, you don’t say no

——————————————————————————

this is actually just me manifesting that jinx becomes real and obsesses over me…she’s so dreamy <3

masterlist

[kaissatou]

you can be alice (i'll be the mad hatter) (18+)

whenever i wanna write an actual fic it ends up as head-cannons instead bc i cant think of any plot ughh :3 i'll make an actual fic of yandere!gojo if anything can think of a plot pretty pls- so this is just how i think yandere satoru would act lolol tw: smut, manipulative behaviour, stalking?, abuse of power

Yandere!Gojo's obsession with you runs deep.

He wants- no, he needs you to rely on him. He's the strongest, after all. Satoru is easy to rile up, and he's also extremely possessive. The idea of you relying on somebody whose not him has him working himself up, becoming irrationally jealous. Satoru will go to extreme lengths if it means keeping you by his side, forever.

Around others, it's hard to see a difference in Satoru's persona. He's still just as charming, as ever (as he likes to call himself), but really, its just a carefully crafted act. He only wants to keep you close, to keep you sane. He doesn't change, the same as ever. No one bats an eye- because no one knows his crazed thoughts about you. His obsession starts subtle; no one realises, because its same old Gojo. Lingering touches on your shoulder, chapped kisses on your forehead. He'll shower you with affection, overly expensive gifts and the full attention of Satoru Gojo himself, but its all a ploy to make you feel dependent on him, as if you could never live without him. Who would be there to pay your bills, or take you to restuarants you could never dream of affording?

Satoru's sly, and he's also manipulative- though he has an articulate way of going about it. He's overly casual, like he really doesn't know what he's doing or saying. But he's pulling the strings. His controlling ways are subtle at first. He'll interfere with your plans with Shoko, pulling you along to the movies with him instead, referring to himself as your saviour. Because to him, he really believes that he is. It carries along like this, until it's not so subtle anymore. And in no time, you find yourself distanced from your friends, but not from Satoru. No, he's always there with you- because why would you need other friends, when you have him?

And really, it would be no use for you to try and do anything that's not under his watchful eye, anyway. If you did go out without him, something would conveniently come up- a special grade curse? No fear, Gojo's just around the corner. Gojo's popular, and he can control crowds with a bat of his eye, a flick of his hand. Anyone who acts just a bit too friendly towards you, Satoru will...handle. Rumours spread fast; you know that, right?

You've caught Gojo watching you around the school countless times now- to which you confront him, and it's always the same response: "I'm just watching out for you!" And at first, you (dumbly) believe it. Satoru will track your every move, but really, he just wants to look out for you! There's no harm in that, right?

If you're out, whether it's doing something mundane like grocery shopping or out for coffee with Suguru and Shoko, Satoru will be there. Sometimes, it's a coincidence (or so you think), or sometimes, he just tags along like a lost puppy. As time passes, his coincidental appearances become more frequent. You quickly realise it may not be a coincidence anymore (or if it ever was).

Satoru Gojo has mastered the perfect façade. He's able to meticulously craft and manipulate situations to favour him, to allow him to see you (more often than what's considered healthy for friends). He'll persuade (threaten) Yaga to be put on missions with you, and somehow, after having a not so friendly chat with your landlord, he's got a key to your apartment- a key that you don't know about. Gojo will use his power to his advantage, and he feels no remorse about it. Anything's worth it to get to you.

Satoru is clingy. His love for you is overwhelming, suffocating at times. He constantly wants you to feel dependent on him, and he'll do anything to get you that way. pliant and submissive. You don't need to go on grocery runs anymore because Satoru's already got your shopping from the most high-end market for you! Don't question how he got into your home, though. He'll constantly remind you that everything he does is for your benefit. At first, the idea of being doted on by him is comforting, his affection providing a safe sense of security, but in time, it becomes clear that his love is extremely unhealthy. It's hard to get a movement to breathe with him around. Again, he's manipulative. There's no way to escape his presence.

When he confesses, it'll either go one of two ways- you'll accept, intimidated by him and clever enough to know what strings he'll pull if you decline his romances. Or you'll say no, and disappoint Satoru, because he really thought you knew better than this! However, he seems to take it fine. It's chilling, the way his lips flatten out into a thin line, and the way he nods his head, almost emotionless, and you get to believe that its finally over. But, you didn't know Gojo as well as you thought.

Satoru would never dream of hurting you, not in a million years- but really, it was your fault that it all came down to this. Satoru knew deep down that you had to love him back, and this was his way of giving you that final push! Everything was normal at first, until subtly, everyone started steering clear of you, even Suguru and Shoko! And was it a mistake that all the curses you had to fight were stronger than you had been told by Ijichi, leaving you blindsided? Satoru always came to save the day, giving you a sly grin. You knew what he was doing, and there was only one way to fix it.

Gojo accepts with with open arms, acting like nothing ever happened. He'll comfort you with soft words, murmuring that you just needed that little last push, that all you need from now on is him.

And when he finally gets to fuck you, its feral. He's frenzied and crazed, nipping and sucking and whatever skin he can get, sucking dark pretty purple hickeys all over your neck, leaving a trail of warm spit in their wake. His mouth will trail lower, savouring the taste of your salty skin against his tongue. When he tastes your pussy for the first time, he actually moans. He purrs like your pussy is his lifeline. How can someone be so gentle yet so rough at the same time?

Satoru can. He's ravenous, yet you don't know that he's only lubing you up to take his fat cock. He'll split you open, watching you wriggle and writhe in his strong grip, your pleasure (and pain) doing the most to spur him on. It's, really. It's dirty, and he loves it. His nimble fingers will pinch and flick at your clit meanly, teasingly but its just so good.

He'll fuck you through your orgasm, but he wont stop- not until he's had his full. There's no end in sight, not when he's pining over you for months, years! You'd be stupid to think that he'd pull out before the sun rise; infact, Satoru would stay situated inside your gooey, wet warm walls forever if he could. But duty calls, so he'll relish in the time he has for the time being.

After all, you have so much lost time to make up.

You'll just have to make it up to him forever. Its okay, he's a patient man when it comes to you.

[kupidachillea]

I really liked you're yanderr Olympians x Reader :3 is it okay to ask for some hcs on yan! Hermes and reader? Only if its okay either you!!

Yandere Hermes x Reader Hcs! (Or imagines)

Author note: This will be kind of connected to the original Olympians x Reader hcs, hope you don’t mind. But also thank you for the request hope you enjoy.

TW (trigger warning): The writing ahead contains mentions of emotional manipulation, gaslighting, general yandere and toxic behaviour, manipulation, slight abuse(bondage). Please note that I don’t condone any of these things and everything here is fiction. With that said, please read at your own discretion.

✉️- You’re lonely..of course you are. How could you not be when yourself stuck on this mountain?

🪶- Most would consider it an honour, a blessing even, but you knew better. It was a curse, and there was no way to convince you otherwise.

✉️-You had tried multiple times to try and escape. Try to flee only to end up right back where you didn’t want to be. Usually this would end in you being bound in chains of gold, infused with magic or worse things that left scars to tell what happened. The gods found it amusing. Watching you struggle and act all defiant.

🪶- It was their form of entertainment. “How cute..” Poseidon would muse since your latest attempt to escape. “I don’t know why the mortal keeps trying to…they’re not going to make it off this mountain. Alive that is..” Hera would sigh. She didn’t really care much, though she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t pity you in the slightest.

✉️- You just couldn’t take it anymore. You were sick of being up here, you’ve been in the mountain long enough to memorise where all the rooms and paths were.. it was downright ridiculous.

🪶- You didn’t care if you escaped anymore..all you wanted to do was touch the grass again..to listen to the birds in the trees and to feel the running water of the streams and rivers.

✉️- you wished that someone, anyone would hear you wishes and at least grant you 30 minutes of freedom..if you could even call it that. However fortunately (or unfortunately) for you..there was one such person that heard your cry. A certain someone that wasn’t afraid to bend the rules or stir up trouble. Whether it be for the benefit of others, himself or even to deliver a simple message.

🪶- Hermes was that god. He had been listening in to your little cries of despair and felt your home sickness from a mile away. How could he not take this opportunity given to him to care for his favourite lover? He was the god of travelling after all, among other things so he just had to step in.

✉️- And so the feathered friend (or rather fiend) approached you as somewhat of an angel of light. Opening a door for you that you had assumed was shut forever.

🪶- “Wouldn’t you like to get off of this old rock, hm~?” He would ask, a slight hum in his voice as he floated in front of you. You were sat on the marble floor, probably sulking a bit to yourself until the messenger had showed up. Without a second thought to his words you nodded. Wasting no time in taking his hand, so excited that you missed the devious little grin that had started to appear on his lips.

✉️-And that..was the beginning of what you thought would be a great companionship.

. 🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.🪶.

🪶- Over the course of those few days to a week, you and Hermes spent time away from the mountain and down on earth in the forest near mount Olympus.

✉️- And you had to admit; they were great. For once you felt like you were actually enjoying yourself. While you would enjoy the greenery and flora, Hermes would make up excuses for why you couldn’t spend time with the other Olympians.

🪶- He of course being a trickster did what he did best. Of course the others weren’t happy, especially Apollo who had demanded to see you but Hermes wouldn’t let him.

✉️- He even threatened majority of the surrounding nymphs and satyrs to not say a word about what he was doing. Obviously they listened though one particular satyr needed a little reminder on why snitches get stitches…let’s just say that Hermes acquired a new horn after that incident…

🪶- When Hermes wasn’t threatening the lowkey forest creatures he was with you. Sweet talking you..trying to get you to relax more around him. And you did to some extent. Just enough to let him touch and hold your hand..

✉️- But that wasn’t enough for Hermes. He thought he deserved more. Of course he did.. so he pushed. Being a little more greedy than he should’ve.

🪶- “Y’know..We’ve been spending a lot of time with each other and not once have you offered me a kiss..” He spoke one day while you were sitting near a stream next to him. You hummed in response, not really sure how to respond. “I guess..I’m not all too ready for that yet..” you would reply.

✉️- This caused the messenger god to furrow his brows. Lifting his helmet up a bit to get a better look at you. “And why not..?” He asked..his voice taking on a slightly aggressive tone. This would cause you to tense and shiver. “I just…can’t..I’m not ready..I-”

🪶- He didn’t let you finish, he grasped your wrist tightly and scowled. “You can’t ? After everything I’ve done for you? You can’t give me a simple kiss?” he hissed. His tone obviously took you by surprise considering how gentle he had been all this time. But you somehow started to feel..guilty? Why? Why did you feel guilty?

✉️- Hermes continued. “I saw you upset and wallowing in despair, I brought you out from the mountain to be happy. I’ve lied to my own family, my king! Just for you and this is how you repay me?!” Hermes was obviously lying again. He had no issue in lying to his family. He’s done it more times than anyone..he just wants you to feel bad..and it seemed to be working with how your eyes shrunk in fear and darted away with a hint of guilt. ‘Perfect’ he’d think to himself.

🪶- “Maybe I should’ve just left you alone. I doubt the others would’ve done what I did for you…in fact, maybe I should’ve bring you back up to the mountain and chain you down so that they can have their way with you- does that sound better, Dear ?” Hermes crooned..his voice was taunting yet threatening and your eyes widened when he threatened to leave you in the hands of the other Olympians. You frantically shook your head no, you didn’t want that..not at all.

✉️-A kiss truly wasn’t as bad as what the others would do to you. A kiss won’t hurt..right? You sheepishly took his hands in yours, your eyes pleading as you spoke. “Wait- no…please don’t do that.. I’m grateful, I truly am, Hermes. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I wasn’t..I was just..nervous..” You admitted and Hermes cooed..his eyes softening as he moved his hand to your cheek..stoking it gently with his thumb.

🪶- “Oh Darling..it’s okay, you have nothing to be nervous about..it’s just a kiss, right? You can do that for me, can’t you my little mortal?” He didn’t wait for an answer before leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. The action causing your heart to leap and your breath to catch in your throat.,you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or excitement.

✉️-However, you eventually gave in..kissing the messenger go back which caused him to smirk against your lips. He pulled you into his body. His arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you more passionately. A soft moan leaving the god and the wings on the sides of his head fluttering with joy. Though you’re not sure if you share such a feeling. You felt something but you weren’t sure of it.

🪶- Soon enough Hermes pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath as he chuckled and stroked your hair. He rested your head in his chest and cooed while you stared at the grass with a conflicted expression on your face.

✉️- “There, there, my sweet mortal…You have nothing to fear. I’ll always be here for you..remember that.” Hermes would utter softly and you gulped subtly..wondering if you had just made a mistake in trusting the messenger god in the first place.

Author note: Oof, I wrote this at like 3am. I’m starting to realise my ‘HCs’ aren’t really like Hcs at all, but I still hope you all enjoy. Also forgive me. That kissing scene wasn’t really the best.. I was flip flopping between descriptive or not that descriptive 😭. But anyway hope you enjoy Anon!

[kaisaerinlover]

dark content

tw: abuse

laying in bed with kaiser after an extra rough day, a day where he was so much worse than usual. a day where your whole body is left aching in pain. kaiser doesn’t offer you any help or care other than picking you up where you lay limp on the floor to toss you onto the bed so he can feel your warmth next to him.

you’re laid on the pillow trying your hardest not to move, every time you move it feels like a thousand bricks are being tossed at you nonstop. feels like hammers are beating at you. you’re so broken right now it hurts. but that’s what you get for dating someone like kaiser; you shouldn’t play angel with a guy like him. shouldn’t play the “i can fix him” game with someone who is more than just sad inside. someone who’s pain and hurt from the precious years of childhood manifested into a terrifying amalgamation of twisted morals and sick behaviour. you shouldn’t play those types of games with a man like kaiser, because he’s not like anyone you will meet or have ever met in your life. any therapist would truly have a field day with this boy because the amount of times he would have to be in their office is more than infinite, if it’s even possible. it’s impossible, but not for him. fitting for him. he could get better, but his mindset doesn’t allow this. he won’t change it anytime soon, that’s why you’re laid in complete and utter agony trying to bite back the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. even breathing is painful.

he’s next to you, looking like nothing even happened at all. he looks beautiful, hair tied up into a neat little bun at the back, glasses on, face illuminated by the awfully expensive antique lamp you insisted he buy the other month. he’s reading something, your vision is too blurry to see what he’s reading. the sound of him flipping the pages every so often is soothing, you could almost forget about the burning pain you have all over your body. almost forget how he looked as he punched you over and over; screamed at you again. how terrifying it is to be beneath him as he gets so violent with you.

it’s not fair, it’s really not. it’s not fair how he treats you when you are so kind to him; so gentle. sometimes he treats you with the same sweetness you taught him, but it’s not common. but you are different; you would never react back to him with the same brutality his actions teach you. you are a good person, your heart is big and your compassion swells for him even after he treats you like this. you couldn’t explain why even if you wanted to, human nature of this degree is wordless, unexplainable and weird. it’s illogical, but that’s one of the most beautiful things about humans.

that’s kaiser’s opinion anyway, he has you wrapped around his pinky finger. he can hear your shaky breathing next to him; he smirks to himself.

you look at him when you hear him fold the corner of the page of his book so he can find it easier later, and place his book down on the bedside table. you’re waiting for him to turn off the lamp, but he doesn’t yet. your boyfriend clears his throat and looks forwards into the rest of the very luxurious bedroom you both share. “hey, engel” he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he talks. he obviously lacks respect for you. and you acknowledged this long ago. and you stay. you stay with him. you wait silently for him to continue. silence is the best answer after a day like this - he’s impossible to predict. whatever is inside of him follows no logical pattern, if you say the wrong thing you’ll anger him more. “do you know why i hurt humans?” he still isn’t looking at you. you don’t talk still, you don’t bother looking at him anymore. the bruise on your neck that’s darkening even now, hours after the beating, is hurting too much. you stare at the ceiling as you listen to him talk.

he’s smirking as he talks, looking out into the bedroom with his hands behind his head. he carries on again, his voice never lacks confidence “it makes me feel alive.” you never quite understood that about him, you’re still quiet, listening to him, but you extend your arm anyway and lay it awkwardly on his chest despite the pain that shoot’s up the entirety of your arm from doing so. he acknowledges your smaller hand messily splayed across his chest by bringing his own bigger hand to squeeze it tightly, painfully even. he bent your fingers back today a lot, they still ache.

he doesn’t look you in the eye still as he talks. and you don’t want to look him in the eye either. you just both stare into the dimly lit surroundings as you maintain some semblance of skin to skin contact. “i’ve hurt a lot of humans before” he laughs a little. you gasp a bit and jump as he squeezes your hand painfully tight, obviously intending to hurt you. “but hurting you makes me feel the most alive.” your chest is hurting and your hand is crushed so immensely between his much bigger one. you heard the sickening crack of your fingers. you sort of wish he wouldn’t let go, you don’t want to see the damage. purple is a pretty colour, but not when it’s on your fragile skin.

kaiser squeezes hard, he can’t feel alive in any other way than this. than checking his heart rate in a morning. than looking in the mirror and seeing himself standing there, seeing himself in the flesh and knowing he’s alive. he loosens his grip on your hand though and turns to lay on his side to face you. he looks pretty like this, you’re looking at him as well; head propped on his free hand, the other reaching out to caress your battered cheek. he likes seeing what he did to you earlier, likes when he can assess the damage himself. it makes him feel so alive. and even though you won’t admit it his battery makes you feel equally as alive as he does. “you know, prinzessin, i’ve never been hurt before though.” blatant lie, he knows it is, you’ll believe it. he chooses to push his childhood far far behind him. he doesn’t associate with that time of his life, any memory of it that replays will only be viewed in a third person point of view. he doesn’t know that weak child anymore. “wanna know why?” and you give him a response for the first time. you nod and look up at him with your big glassy eyes. you’re like a broken toy, but you know that someone like kaiser can appreciate a broken toy. poor kids who grow up with nothing will accept anything. wealthless kids, abused kids who grow up and enter society as sickeningly ill in the head adults will stop accepting anything, they’ll only accept the familiar brokenness they know best. and if it’s not there in the person they want, they’ll make it themselves.

“it’s because i’m not human.” kaiser doesn’t see himself as human, the opposite actually. having a superiority complex is fun, but it’s less fun when it’s to cover up the hideous truth beneath. he’s caressing your beaten face so tenderly right now, as you deserve. for once he’s treating you kindly. he’s subhuman. but he’s also something better, he’s above everyone else. his intellect is a mean feat in any terms of human endeavour. his talent is unrivalled. he can do things no one else can. michael kaiser can make the impossible into a reality. michael kaiser can give hope to those who thought they could never dream again. he looks at the tattoo on his hand instead of your eyes, the tattooed hand that’s caressing your face; the face he’s grown to both love and despise over the years. the face he wants to destroy beneath his rough fists. the face he wants to hold gently and leave a kiss on. his tattoo is a reminder he’s above everyone else, but also that he’s a piece of shit. he has narcissistic tendencies but it’s mostly a cover up. even he doesn’t believe in his delusions sometimes.

poor you has to bear the brunt of that, but whilst he’s caressing your face you can forget about all the burden you’re forced to carry because of the emotional baggage your boyfriend brings to the relationship. he sighs. he can’t even look you in the eye. he stares off into the window, the one that rain is trickling against now. the city is beautiful at night, but you’re more beautiful. you’re pretty. so cute. süsser prinzessin. but he can’t bring himself to look at you right now. “i’m not like the rest of you, and i never will be.” you can’t tell what he’s thinking when he says that; but you’ve always been an empath. your hand finds its way back to his and you push it from your cheek and intertwine it between the fingers he hurt so much.

you make him feel so alive, hurting you is the best thrill he could get in life. bringing any harm to you is also the most saddening thing. you’re so nice to him even now, someone like him doesn’t deserve it. he’s a subhuman piece of shit and you love him. he’s also a god, renowned by many. he’s a subhuman who needs to be loved and he’s a cruel cold hearted god who needs to be taught gentleness and kindness. he just rubs his thumb over the back of your smaller hand and sighs. he’s a confident guy, no doubt about it, but maybe you won’t be around forever. maybe you will pack up and leave one day - he’s tried every trick in the book to ensure you stay, not that he even has to do that, because you would undoubtedly, but he can’t help but be worried.

it’s shameful to admit that maybe an emperor does need a princess sometimes. he rubs your hand in circle motions and presses a kiss to your forehead. he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry for doing this to you. he doesn’t know why he’s like this; you deserve so much more than this. infinity times infinity more. you’re really his princess, he’s sorry. sorry that he treats you like this. sorry that instead of affection all you get most of the time is his fists bearing into you over and over, a barrage of attacks until he’s finally decided you learned your lesson.

you don’t have anything to learn. kaiser loathes you because you’re a perfect human. you’re beautiful and you’re compassionate. you have a big heart and a big personality and he likes your stupid jokes you tell. and he hates that you stay with him. you’re so perfect, you really are. you notice his eyes are glossy. he hates to cry; kaiser fucking hates crying. you also know your boyfriend hates crying, so you open your mouth for the first time tonight. “i love you, micha.” a sweet whisper of love. he feels your other hand, your other thumb wiping up the small amount of wetness beginning to form on his lashes. only you could notice that, god he fucking hates you. “i love you too” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability.

you fall asleep in his arms, and he falls asleep too. he’s squeezing you so tightly, he’s holding you so close like you’re something so precious; like a thief of the night might come and steal you from him. every inch of your body aches from his earlier barbarity, but you didn’t care whilst falling asleep and you won’t care when you wake up. your heart is so pure that you simply don’t have the capacity to care about anything other than your boyfriends wellbeing and happiness.

kaiser is thankful he gets to even lay next to you. you’re not one of the same at all. but sometimes he debates your humanity as much as his own; you’re an angel.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, pet play, victim - blaming

Eric laid it out since day one - you can be his lover or his pet, and it all depends on you and your behaviour. But you don’t believe him - you push at his chest and you turn your head when he tries to brush his lips against yours. You squirm when he wraps his big, muscled arms around you, and your lips pucker in denial when he tries to feed you. But what’s even worse, what really makes him tick, is when you try to run - when you wait for him to cross the threshold, all soft and doe - eyed as you finally, finally let him kiss you goodbye. When you act like a good fucking girl for once, just so he can let his guard down and forget to lock the door. 

You don’t make it far. You spend approximately thirty seconds in blissful unawareness, having the sun caress your naked skin for the first time in months, the birds chirp and tweet, spring is in the air… And then the alarm goes off, triggered by the tracker installed in your shoulder.

It’s all your fault, really, Eric says. You could have everything. You could have a hot breakfast in bed and hundreds of kisses adoring your warm body. He could take a shower with you every day before work, carefully washing your hair, thoroughly rubbing the sweet flowery shampoo into your roots and massaging your scalp just like a husband would for his wife. He could adore you with his whole being. He could make love to you, softly, gently - slowly working you to wet ecstasy with his fingers and tongue before he finally takes you on your back just so he can look at your face lovingly the whole time. 

You could be his equal, he reminds you. You could have all these teeth rooting - sweet, painfully domestic moments - when he hugs you from behind as you bake a pie, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he inhales your lovely cinnamon aroma. When you fall asleep in the middle of a movie and he sighs with unhidden tenderness, carrying you to the bedroom - careful not to wake you up from your adorable, peaceful sleep. When you grow old together, thirty years from now, and he still remembers to buy you your favourite newsletter along with your coffee, the one with the double sudoku pages.

But you won’t, and he won’t, because you fucked up. You decided you needed less than him - less than his love. And that’s fine by him, he still loves you. He could never stop loving you, and if you want him to play the villain, if you want him to be your cruel master - for him to shorten your leash, who’s he to deny you? 

So he buys a thick pink collar with his initials on it and the most adorable heart - shaped pillow which he lays by his office chair. You stare at it, dumbfounded, unsure what he means by all that - yet Eric is anything if not clear in his intentions. He drags you in by the hair, kicking, screaming and all, shoving you towards what he calls your new home. You feel your eyes prick with hot, humiliating tears, growing even more puzzled. But your captor just coos at you understandingly, patting your head as if you’re a wild animal, as he explains that, if you really want to act like a bitch, he has no problem treating you like one.

He has no problem fucking you instead of making love to you, knees spread far and wide apart in the air, almost reaching your chest as he plows into you with little consideration for your pain aside from a chuckle here and a pinch there. He can live without kissing your soft, beautiful lips if it means he still gets to bite and squeeze and abuse any warm flesh available. He can bear not hearing your breathless voice sing him praises if you can still scream and cry for him just as prettily - when you bruise and mark just as darkly, when you let him grip and grope you just as possessively. 

And when you whine and sob, asking him if he still loves you - and if he does, how he lives with hurting you so, he reminds you that this is the path you chose yourself. After all, he doesn’t need to be a lover, not when you refuse to hold your end of the deal. He just needs to love you, even if that love ends up crushing you. 

[eternal-moss]

Christ, the whole Wilbur situation is so fucked. Already the things that are coming out of the woodworks so quickly are so sad.

tw for abuse and misogyny. If you aren’t aware of this yet, Wilbur Soot has been revealed as a prolific abuser

My heart breaks for all the people he’s harmed. I think Shelby was really intelligent in the way that she’s brought this to attention, without naming him. This meant that even though some people denied it or lashed back at her, the repercussions were minimised.

Wilbur responding proved it was him she was talking about, although the details she provided made it so patently clear it was him from the start, it made it so that he had to admit he was the one who had been committing essentially serial abuse on young women by the nature of him responding to the description of the unnamed abuser, although he didn’t mention that it was *multiple women* in his absolutely pathetic excuse of an ‘apology’.

I’ve been thinking about this deeply from pretty much directly the moment after Shubble revealed it really. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve ever watched any of Shubble’s stuff, and I’ve not watched streamers for a couple of years now, but the courage she had to do this is fucking immense. Wilbur is very well off financially with a massive and loyal fanbase, the influence he has is very large and not to be underestimated. His ‘apology’ reeks of PR pressure, although it fails to meet the mark on all levels of even a basic apology (which is not even the bare minimum in this situation) and omits some very important details.

It’s so sad that abuse and grooming is so common amongst streamers/YouTubers, but the response to this time (from the community) being genuine support instead of victim blaming does make me feel hopeful. Wilbur’s condescension of women and younger ccs is absolutely disgusting. This recontextualises so many moments when he’s been dismissive of and made jokes at women’s expense. What he’s done is abuse and it’s misogyny. He’s picked on people he knows are less able to fight back from all parameters. Misogyny is massive in the gaming scene, and he’s relied on all these women (it really is a lot at this rate, even an ex-trumpeter from Lovejoy) staying silent out of fear.

Shubble saying keeping their silence protected him more than it protected her is very true, and this will absolutely wreck his reputation. Rather, he’s fucked it up himself, and there really is no one else to blame in this situation. The people who knew about it and were subject to this were typically smaller, younger or female streamers. It’s disgusting that he had relied on their silence for so long.

This is a bit of a mess, but ngl so am I. It’s been eating at me for as long as it’s been going on, I found out almost immediately. I was quite a big Wilbur fan for a damn long time, since his early days of streaming (when skyblock randomiser was made etc). I was emotionally invested in his original music and looked up to him a lot.

The worst thing I think is that I resonated with his online interactions with Tommy (which makes me feel vile), and his adoration of Wilbur, always calling him ‘like a big brother’, and it fondly reminded me of me and my younger sibling. Except Wilbur would sometimes do some unexpectedly cruel things. Like stomping on Tommy’s hand and causing it to bleed. That alarmed me at the time, also when he revealed that he was relying on Tommy to talk him out of suicide, which really made me concerned about how healthy their relationship was. The worst thing is, this didn’t surprise me that much at all when it was revealed. Shelby’s descriptions could fit no other person, and it made sense and lined up with his past behaviour, but that doesn’t make it any less wholly awful and horrific.

I wasn’t going to talk about it on this blog, but I just feel angry. Angry for all these people he’s hurt. Angry that he’ll still be living comfortably off of his fanbase for years to come, young people who trusted and idolised him, the vast majority young girls themselves. Angry for Shubble, angry for Niki, angry for the women’s names we don’t know yet, angry for those who had been intimidated into silence. Angry for those who had been abused and brutalised by him. The main thing that’s coming up again and again is the biting, the bruising, the physical abuse, the way they were scared into saying anything, left traumatised by the way they’d been treated. As if that could be brushed off in any way by some disgustingly shallow and self-centred attempt at self preservation of his reputation. Fuck off.

Like Aimsey said, this isn’t some light cancellation from Twitter, these are reprehensible serial misogynistic crimes, and it’s only been days since the initial reveal and hours since his response and the influx of victims speaking up. My heart breaks to know how much more is going to be unearthed.

So yeah this is basically it, I treat this blog mainly as an archive for fan creations of things I like, but also as a collection of my thoughts. I have been unable to stop thinking about this, and I know that I’ve barely talked about mcyt on here, but I was heavily into dsmp and streamers for a long time. Shubble is insanely bloody brave for doing this, I wish them all the best (and the other victims) in recovering from his behaviour, as well as applauding her for the sheer fucking bravery to make the decision to speak up.

***I’ve seen some people saying Shubble uses they/them pronouns, but most people I’ve seen refer to her with she/her. If I find out she doesn’t use she/her I’ll change this post < Shelby uses she/they

[star4daisy]

map - 972 words - @rosekillermicrofic

tw: wounds, physical assault

Barty had always refused to see the doctor after his father was done with him. He'd learned the lesson to avoid them when he was twelve, trying to find someone to help him and his mom out of the house. No one ever lifted a finger to assist them.

That was until he passed out after one of their little sessions and Barty woke up being tended by lovely long fingers that held him with care.

Barty hadn't felt a gentle touch in years — ever since his mother died — so he couldn't be blamed for being unable to resist coming back, especially when he noticed that the doctor didn't ask questions that Barty couldn't give him the answer to.

Two years passed with comforting touches and sharp needles mending Barty's skin back together. With time, Evan Rosier mended more than just Barty's skin. Evan turned him human again. As human as Barty could ever become after years of neglect and abuse.

Evan was tending to the wounds on his back as Barty complained about the other soldiers' behaviour, he could barely feel the sting of the alcohol as his open back was getting disinfected.

He'd been through this enough times to know how the procedure went, Evan would caress his unmarred skin with one hand to comfort him and then press his needle inside Barty's open flesh, always trying to put him back together. Evan didn't always succeed. Sometimes Barty thought that he had been broken one too many times for it to work again.

If things had been any different between them Barty would've never allowed Evan to map the scars on his back with his lovely fingers. Barty had been ashamed of it for so long, of how ugly they looked. Sometimes he still flinched from the touch, his subconscious never expected the proximity to not be a danger.

No one had gotten close without taking a piece of him along with them, Evan had been the first to give. To fix.

Barty was in awe of him.

Once Evan was done and had wrapped the worst of it in gauze, he began the tradition of kissing every old scar on Barty's body. Evan started with the one on his shoulder, just a slight brush of his lips that was enough to make Barty shudder. The effect was bigger on his body than any sharp tool had been before.

Then Evan kissed his spine, Barty had to restrain the instinctive jerky movement so he wouldn't pull away from him.

He never wanted to pull away from Evan again.

The tradition had started the first time Barty pulled away from him when Evan touched one of his scars. "Why do you always do that?" His tone was curious.

"They're ugly, you're not," Barty said matter of factly. "No reason for you to have to see them," he shrugged uncomfortably.

Evan froze in the process of taking his gloves off. "Who said they were ugly?"

"I did."  

"Crouch," the name was said as a warning.

"You know who."

Evan studied him for a while and then he pulled Barty's chin up, forcing him to look into Evan's stony blue eyes. "Nothing about you will ever be as ugly as he is, inside and out."

Barty nodded jerkily, avoiding eye contact once again.

"I mean it, Crouch," Evan pulled him by the chin again. "They're a part of you, each one of them tells me a story about who you are. They're a map to your soul. How could that ever be ugly?"

Barty felt like his throat was swollen, which was weird because he was sure he hadn't been hurt there. "Don't call me that," was all he managed to say. "That's his name, not mine."

Evan nodded slowly, analysing Barty's features as if he needed to draw him from memory. "And how would you want me to call you?"

"Barty is fine."

"Barty," Evan said it like he was tasting the words in his mouth.

"Yes?" Barty answered, finally raising his head out of his own will and Evan rewarded him by kissing Barty for the first time.

Now, as Evan had grown used to tending to his wounds and Barty was more comfortable with his body and soul, he finally gathered the courage to admit to Evan the truth in his heart. "I hate him," he said. "I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone."

Barty knew it was wrong of him to say when they were in the middle of a war, that he should hate their enemies more than the man who was leading them to victory. But he couldn't keep it inside anymore, the words had been choking him for years and Evan — his only safe space — had allowed him to breathe after spilling them.

Evan didn't stop the task of mapping Barty's scars with his lips, when he spoke it was against the skin of Barty's neck, "Do you want me to kill him?" He offered, warm breath sending chills down Barty's spine.

Barty was ashamed of how long he'd thought about this before. "His death might condemn us all."

"Or it might free us." Evan was like the devil whispering behind his shoulder.

"It needs to look like an inevitability." Barty finally conceded, turning to look at Evan's cold eyes. "We couldn't just shoot him, we'd be dead in thirty seconds."

"Don't worry, darling." Evan kissed his jaw, moving his lips slowly until he reached Barty's mouth. "I've had a plan since the first time you entered this tent bleeding because of him."

When Barty went to sleep that night he could finally relax in their makeshift bed. Even if his father's death resulted in all of theirs, Barty found he could be at peace as long as he had Evan by his side.

[cute-sucker]

note: this is pretty dark! so please tw for toxic relationship (with rafe obviously!!) + this is for liona (inspo)

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part four here, part six here !

words: 2,024 words

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rafe was following you.

you could almost feel his gaze on you from the diner sometimes. as if he was waiting to strike. the first time you saw him, he was standing outside the glass diner a strange expression on his face. clearly, he was high out of his mind as he tried to stumble and hang onto the street lamp. you had been talking with jj, him chuckling about you having whipped cream on your face - and you spotted him.

he was staring dead into your soul, and you felt your breath quicken pardoning yourself to the bathroom. no, you couldn't do this, and when jj asked you what happened you had whispered some excuse.

he knew where you were. your masterful escape hadn't been masterful after all.   

sometimes rafe scared you. it was the early stages of your pregnancy with him. the feeling of being so suffocated carrying his baby. and it wasn't like he didn't love you no, sometimes you cried to him fists drumming on his chest, screaming, wondering where you had gone wrong.

where had you gone wrong for him to be so punishing. for his protective cage to make you fall prey to him? it was the feeling that your heart would break if he whispered a bad word, and you hated it cowering against his heavy words and hoping that he wouldn't get you back from putting a toe out of line.

being with rafe had been some of the worst and best times of your life. it was when you got a taste of teenage freedom, putting out a small dress to sneak to a party, tasting punch and he was there. you looked a mess with pink glowy lipstick, shyly trying to ease into your new shining persona.

he saw you, a hopeless deer in headlights and suddenly if anyone tried to bump into you - he was there. it felt nice to be cared for, and sometimes he'd take it far. taking you anywhere in your car, and making sure that his hand wandered near your waist.

but it was after the baby that things went wrong. he was cursing at you for being so stupid to get pregnant. you had cradled your head in your chest as he cussed you out, heavy drums in your heart. he tried to persuade you first -

"you don't need a baby. no, you don't need one," he would coo, eyes red from whatever he was on, as you tried not to stop yourself from sobbing. you made miek sounds, practically folding into yourself as you rocked from side to side.

he took this as you disrespecting him, "hey?" he snapped his fingers, eyebrows furrowed as he clenched his jaw, "what the hell is wrong with you? fucking embarrassment," he would spit out, almost as if he was disgusted with your behaviour.

then you would whimper with sadness, and it only amplified his anger, "jesus christ. i'm always taking care of you, and this is how you reward me?" he barked, his voice sharp and unforgiving. you shook your head, telling him you were sorry.

you had your baby in the morning, an early baby. he wasn't even there in the reception, as her wrinkly face mewled for someone. you had tucked her into your lap, swearing - swearing to get away.

but then he came like your prince charming, eyes red while carrying a baby bag, and a stupid pink outfit that he told you she could wear. it was tacky and too big, yet you felt the need to cry. maybe this was a sign that he would change. maybe this was a sign from the gods. there was a forced smile on his face, as he looked at your sticky baby.

it finally came down to how he acted around the baby. never cleaning up after. after all, you were eighteen when you had her, practically children as if you were playing family. he was smoking, abusing drugs and then coming back to your apartment telling you he'd get better.

the day you left was a breath of fresh air.

so what was he doing coming after you? you tried to ignore it, but sometimes out of the blue - weeks after his first sighting, he would be looking at the glass window with a clear look on his face. as if he was going to come in, and yet he didn't. every single time you dared him with your eyes, meek hands shaking as you tried to stay away from that entrance.

at this point, your favourite place was next to the counter, next to jj where you could yap as much as you wanted. sometimes jj would tell you to shut it as he made food, because one time the two of you were talking and he'd messed up an order. the guy had yelled at him, and all jj could do was shrug, a playful smile on your face looking at your flushed face.

the two of you were taking it slow. you didn't know how to do it all, but since that day he sat you down in his lap, playing with the strands of your hair - you didn't know who you were to him. yet, it felt right laughing with him, letting him touch your waist leaving you completely rendered. you were under a spell as if he was the sun and you were the moon.

you were running back to him every single time, a bright smile on your face. after all he was the one who told you to go to art school. so that's what you did at night while leaving your baby at the elderly women's house. she was so sweet, as your baby girl blubbered and giggled. she was the grandmother you had always wanted for your little girl.

everything was fine.

˚❀༉‧₊

it would be a lie if jj said he hadn't noticed the strange guy staring at the glass from time to time. he was always there when you were, giving you a stare that could bring the dead back to life. jj didn't know who he was, and to be honest he was giving him the creeps.

you always seemed to stiffen whenever the guy came into view, and jj couldn't help but scowl when the jackass came to view. it was the only time he hated the wide glass windows in the diner. it meant that you had to see that guy peeking in.

what creeped him out even more was the amount that the guy stared. sometimes he came out drunk, eyes red as he stumbled onto the sidewalk. jj was waiting for him to come in. waiting for him to confront him - and yet for his whole ordeal, he had never taken a step inside the diner. he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"i like this dress," jj mused the next day you came in. he wiped the table looking up at you. the diner was closed up, and the little bell jingled he knew it was you. he didn't know how this became a thing - but you always came after things ended.

sometimes the two of you would share an ice cream sundae sitting next to the counter, sometimes he'd get you some chocolate milk - but never had he asked why you came.

you liked talking about your day during those times. you sat there all pretty and prepared, he'd never admit it but he liked how much you dolled up for him. there was always some flowery blouse you had on, or a tight skirt. sometimes it was a maxi skirt or some jeans. but you always look so pretty.

you smiled bashfully at the compliment, biting your lip as you tilted your head. you held your baby tight, and yet she wiggled out of your hands to make it to jj.

"oiagh," she sputtered out, "wah, wah," incomparable words but jj couldn't hlep but chuckle, lifting her up to look at her better. she was around 10 months now, her tiny curls in pigtails. she was wearing tiny overalls and a backwards hat.

"look at you," jj murmured, toying with her hat, "such a cutie," he sighed, and she shrieked with happiness as jj poked in her in the stomach. he couldn't help but gaze over at you. you had this dazed happy expression on your face that made him giddy with joy.

you wiped your babies drool, before pinching her cheek, "she wanted to look like you."

jj laughed, eying you in an incredulous look, "i don't wear overalls," he pointed out, tugging at the straps for her to only scream with joy again.

you rolled your eyes, "close enough. it's the cap for me."

"alright. alright. i'm not fighting with you mama. c'mon lemme get you something..." he paused pretending to think, and you giggled, "you want something sweet, am i right?"

"ding, ding, ding! a point for mr. mayback!" you drawled, before sitting next to the counter. "chocolate milk, please."

jj folded his arms, a teasing lit to his voice as he watched you fix your dress, "you're working me to the bone."

"i like my men hardworking."

"so you say."

then the two of you were off, talking about the different things that had happened. he told you about the mess with the muffins, and you talked about your favourite show. it was a perfect evening, and before you knew it you were yawning resting your head on jj's shoulder.

"you look tired," jj breathed out, softly moving your hair out of your face. you stirred, sleepy eyes looking at him a gentle smile gracing your face.

your heart stuttered staring at him, "it's that one that keeps me up," you said pointing at the tiny baby who was also asleep next to the couches. then suddenly you watched jj get up alert but thought nothing about it.

he finally spoke up, "how about you take a small nap?"

that sounded great to you, and before you knew it you were burrowing yourself in jj's sweatshirt, sleeping in a warm bed.

˚❀༉‧₊

jj was practically running while trying to keep up with the man in the window. he was there again when the two of you were speaking, and he hated it. like a stalker following your tracks, so jj did what he was best at.

act recklessly.

"hey! stop right there asshole."

the man turned around at the sound of jj’s voice, his expression shifting from one of eerie calm to a volatile mix of anger and amusement. he stopped in his tracks, turning to face jj with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"what do you want?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, rocking back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world.

jj’s eyes blazed with fury as he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched at his sides. "who the hell are you?"

the man scoffed, "i'm rafe. rafe cameron. i thought you'd know about me by now."

"i don't know what you're talking about fuckface."

for a moment, something dark flickered in rafe’s eyes, and his jaw tightened. but then, just as quickly, the mask of arrogance slipped back into place. "you're telling me you have no idea who you’re dealing with?"

jj's glare intensified. " listen man, i don't give a shit who you are," he started scoffing, "but i know the food looks great but you can't stay out there staring at people. it's messed up, makes you look like a creep. come in and get a bite or jus' fuckin' leave."

rafe’s laughter was cold and hollow, echoing in the empty street. "oh, i will. don’t you worry about that." he took a step back, his gaze never leaving jj’s. "but for now, i have better things to do."

and he jumped into his car, a shiny truck with blaring lights. all jj could do was look into the dark wondering who the hell rafe cameron was.  

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas @breeistired @obaex 

let me know if you'd like to be added !! + feel free to request <3

[pizzaapeteer]

I’ve really been thinking about toxic!boyfriend mattheo. I’ve seen like 100 Theo headcannons of it but not my king matty 😔

AH yes anon I completely agree, let me be his addiction - his obsession - his fucking drug, where we ruin each other.

An: I’m very fortunate to have like zilch interaction with a toxic boy so praying this hits right bb 💛 also thank you to @finalgirllx for this sexy edit of matty! tw: talks of some verbal or emotional abuse, he's still a dick basically. @suugarbabe @fuckaperioddrama much love for your help 💛

Toxic!BfMattheo; who secretly gets a thrill from arguing, turns him on in a way he never knew could. Literally fuels his dominance, makes him feel powerful when he raises his voice or throws in a swear word. ‘The fuck!, You’re fucking delusional, I never said that’, 'Are you gonna stop spitting out bullshit or do I need to fill your mouth with something else?" Taking his anger out on you in the best way he knows how. Toxic!BfMattheo; who hides his insecurity of losing you in his jealousy, and will never admit to it gaslighting the hell out of you. But it's done in a subtle way that has you believing him pretty quickly. He’ll make sure to kiss your forehead and temple while he tells you, you’re wrong. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who has the stupidest double standards ever. Will snap and lecture you about talking to other men (he doesn’t believe it's ever innocent). But who will always brush it off as not meaning anything and how you have nothing to worry about when he does the same with girls. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who gets extra vulnerable when he’s drunk. Love bombs HARD, how he can't live without you, how he won't take you for granted. Opens up a lot about his father and shares a side he still only trusts with you. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who hardly ever apologises for anything with words. He won't let himself admit when he’s wrong so he’ll just buy you flowers, or he’s coercing you with sex in a way that has you somehow begging him that you forgive him. Promising him you love him and will never leave, that you are his. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who's controlling but plays it off as just being protective and looking out for you. 'You really want rumours starting that you're a whore, didn't think so - go change.' ‘I’m just looking out for you baby.’ But is secretly glad you listen and only he gets to see your body that way.

Toxic!BfMattheo; who gets irritated when you get busy with studies because he’s needy, but also doesn’t want to show it and pretends to be nonchalant that he doesn’t care. But he’ll avoid you for like almost a week to balance it out in showing that he also too doesn’t need you. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who gaslights and belittles you for acting upset and getting emotional when you express your feelings about his absence. He’s quick to call you ‘so fucking sensitive’, ‘dramatic’, ‘crybaby’ that is not a big deal and he just needs space. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who won’t shy away from bragging about how he has you eating out of the palm of his hand. Making sure to leave specific details out about your body, after all you’re ‘his’ and he doesn’t need his friends knowing all the visuals. But he’ll make it clear how good he fucks you to make them jealous. ‘Where’s your girlfriend?’, ‘Recovering from last night’. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who wouldn’t stand up for you if his friends are being sexist. If they look at you or flirt with you he’d punch them but if they made some joke at a woman’s expense he’d laugh it off.

Toxic!BfMattheo; who will hold a grudge if you make a mistake, but goes ballistic if you bring up his own shit in retrospect. Using excuses such as, ‘I’m just really stressed’, ‘I’ve just been going through it can’t you just be there for me,’ ‘you know the pressure my father puts on me.’ 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who does love you, he’s completely obsessed. But he’s so deeply rooted in his toxic behaviour that he won't change. Or at least he doesn’t see it as a big deal, something you should get used to if you love him. That if you truly loved him you’d accept him for who he is. He won't hesitate to emotionally manipulate you to stay if you dare. 

Toxic!BfMattheo; who you loved deeply, craved and were so attached to. Injected into your veins, and who you knew loved you at the end of the day. That he had picked you out of everyone. No matter what he did, or how he treated you, you knew you’d always be by his side and loving him.

Masterlist Thank you for reading any and all interaction is appreciated 🤍

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Caring enough to Kill (part 2)

Part two to this. Jason confronts Bruce and when it doesn't go the way he wants it to Danny is there to pick up the pieces.

tw: Mentions of sex, descriptions of violence, abusive relationships

----

Jason stumbled back into his safehouse, clutching his bleeding throat where Bruce had cut him. He could feel the tears trapped behind the stupid Domino mask and he ripped it off, sobbing as he collapsed to the floor. He had finally done it, he had confronted Bruce, told him it was Joker or Him and Bruce had, Bruce had attacked him! 'Because he took me from you'. So pathetic, Jason had practically begged, and Bruce had nearly slit his throat. So pathetic! to have believed he still even had a father!

He could swear the tears that fell to the floor had a subtle green glow as he wept, he felt helpless, worthless, purposeless! He could feel the Pits churning inside him, burning in his veins with grief and rage that might turn him into a monster for good. He would let it, maybe escaping all this human misery would mean he didn't care so much about someone caring enough to avenge him. Maybe he would finally just be able to kill Joker himself.

A floorboard creaked and he looked up sharply. Danny, sliding through the window after him. He gave Jason a look of sympathy and concern as he approached slowly, his back hunched and his knees bent, making himself as small as he could as he kept closer.

"One of your people saw you running and called me. Jason, what happened?" Danny asked softly, reaching out to touch Jason's face.

Jason couldn't stand, couldn't stand the care, couldn't stand a gentle touch that wasn't from his father. He grabbed Danny's wrist and twisted it, startling a scream out of Danny who so rarely cried out in pain. He shouldn't have, he didn't want to, but he was not in his right mind when he threw Danny to the floor. Danny who did not fight as Jason lashed out at him Again, channeling too much rage and misery into the person who probably deserved it least, but who always let him.

He was barely aware of what he was doing as he hit and kicked, though he knew that for once Danny was actually shielding his head, curled up on the floor. The rage broke suddenly, and all that was left was the sadness and the growing dizziness and nausea of blood loss. He backed away from Danny where he was curled on the floor and slumped into an armchair.

After a drawn out moment of stillness Danny uncurled from where he was laying on the floor, he spat out a tooth and some blood as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Jason noticed that he had a black eye that wasn't healing as quickly as usual, had Jason broken something? Still when Danny looked up at him it was with concern not fear.

This time when he approached it was fully on his hands and knees, creeping over to Jason again, who this time stayed still and let him, Danny knelt between Jason's legs and cupped his jaw, Jason tilted his head back and to the side, bearing his neck to Danny so he could get a good look at the injury.

Danny grimaced sympathetically and kissed the corner of Jason's mouth before flitting away to the bathroom, he came back moments later with the well stocked first aid kit and knelt by Jason again. Jason stayed still, allowing Danny to gently clean the wound, stitching it up, besides the small place where it had ruptured his windpipe so the fluids would have somewhere to go besides down Jason's throat. By the time he finished and had bandaged the wound the black eye had healed as well and besides the blood on Danny's face there was no sign of what Jason had done.

There was no sign of it in Danny's behaviour either, as he curled up on Jason's lap, leaning against his chest and wrapping his arms loosely around his shoulders. There was no fear in Danny's posture, no anger. How could he love so unconditionally? Especially someone like Jason, who so clearly didn't deserve it. They stayed there until Jason fell asleep, exhaustion winning out over everything else.

Jason woke up in bed, and confused, how had Danny gotten him here without waking him?! He must have been more tired then he realized. Danny was there too, on his side next to Jason with an arm around his waist. As soon as he felt Jason stir he sat up and reached over to the bedside table where there was a bottle of water, unopened, which he offered to Jason.

He took it and drank deeply, finishing about half before he offered it back to Danny who took a few gulps as well before putting it down and laying back down with his head propped on Jason's shoulder. "I've never seen you that angry," He murmured against Jason's skin who winced, remembering just what he'd done yesterday. Danny had showered, and cleaned Jason up as best he could so there weren't really any signs of it but still...

"I'm sorry," He murmured and felt Danny shake his head.

"It's okay. I'm not upset, just worried. What happened Jason?" He asked softly.

Jason felt tears burning the back of his eyes again and he huffed, biting his lip for a moment, but Danny deserved to know. "It was my father again. I finally asked him outright why he hadn't avenged me, I basically begged him to, even let Me kill him and witness it. And you know what he did? He slit my throat to stop me, he chose the Joker over me." Jason gave a bitter little laugh, and was genuinely startled by the snarl Danny let out, he'd never heard him make a noise like that, but it continued, a deep, inhuman growl that didn't pause even when Danny spoke, creating a dark undercurrent to his voice.

"Who is your father," He asked, and Jason felt a chill run down his spine.

"Batman, but don't confront him Danny. I don't really have a father anymore. He can't change, I'd rather focus on the things I can change."

"Like the Joker's status as living?" Danny said dryly, but the growling did ease off.

Jason winced and sighed before he looked to the side. "As much as I know the world would be better off without him, something is holding me back from doing it. I do a lot of avenging people, killing rapists and traffickers and shit. Is it so bad to want to Be avenged for once?"

"No, it's not," Danny said softly. "Does it have to be Batman, or would someone else who loves you doing it be enough?" 'Would I be enough' goes unsaid.

"Yes, that would be enough."

----------

Jason's throat healed, months passed and Danny didn't mention the conversation they'd had about the Joker. Jason threw himself into work, gaining control of more of the drug trade to make sure his rules were followed. He set up safe injection sites and rehabs. He killed corrupt police, politicians, traffickers and anyone who harmed children, cleaning out his turf in the most permanent way he could, making it safe for the kids, the working girls, and everyone else who called it home without being a Complete piece of shit.

Danny kept him from completely losing himself, dragging him away from work for date nights, meals and to get some sleep. Occasionally Jason got angry, occasionally he lashed out, but Danny never held onto those times. Danny didn't only pull him away from work though, since they'd gotten together he started participating even more in Jason's work. He was no longer just a 'goon'.

He designed himself a costume, with a pattern different shades of brown and red, a muzzle covering the lower half of his face and a colour. The first time Jason had seen Danny in the tight leather... let's just say Danny hadn't kept it on for very long, Jason Really liked the collar. Danny called himself Hyena, like it was a joke Jason didn't fully understand. He was Jason's second in command and he gave orders when Red Hood wasn't around since he knew what Red Hood would want. It was almost like being able to be two places at once and Jason was incredibly grateful to Danny for it.

The Joker still being out there was the only thing that kept nagging at Jason, and as they got closer and closer to the anniversary of his death the worse it got. He thought he might have been imagining it but he though Danny was pulling away a bit too. He was busy more often then usual and distant in a way that made Jason worry he was keeping secrets, though he had no idea WHAT they might be since his life genuinely did seem to revolve around Red Hood and his mission.

When the day of his death came Danny was nowhere to be seen and Jason shut himself up on his office to focus on work, reading reports and writing responses. Doing whatever he could to try not to think about what had happened this day five years ago, and how Joker was either not thinking about it at all, or celebrating.

He had explicitly said for no one but Fox to disturb him today so when there was a pounding at a door he was ready to Fucking Kill someone! Danny never knocked like that, usually he just let himself in, so he knew that wasn't Danny. He got up from his desk so abruptly he knocked his chair over and stomped over to yank the door open.

"Please don't shoot! Hyena is in trouble!" The goon at the door, Marcus he though, cowered. Marcus got along with Danny, they might even friends, he would know.

"What happened?" Jason snarled through the voice modulator on his helmet, but he wasn't about to bite Marcus' head off anymore.

"He left your turf in costume this morning, I tried to tell him not to but he didn't listen to me! We've got reports he's on his way back but the Bats are on his tail! You have a tracker on him don't you?! He's gonna need help!" Marcus said in a panic and Jason grabbed his coat and his phone.

"Ya I do I'm not going to let them touch him," Jason snarled checking his guns before he practically bolted out of the building wondering what the Hell Danny had gotten himself into.

He grabbed his grapple and headed to meet Hyena as quickly as he could. He knew Danny was fast but Bruce and the Replacement would catch him eventually if none of the others were already on their way to intercept.

He heard Hyena before he saw them, the high cackling of the manic laughter Danny tended to lean into when he was in his Hyena persona, then Jason saw him, he planted his feet on a rooftop just inside crime ally and drew his guns. He saw the moment Danny spotted him and slightly adjusted his flight so he landed on the same roof as Jason, rolling to absorb his momentum and skidded to a stop half hiding behind Jason as he grinned at the Bats who had also come to a stop on the roof across from them with the muzzles of Jason's guns trained on them.

"Sorry about this, I knew what I was doing but I don't know the placement of the cameras all over Gotham, I didn't know they saw me," Danny said, resting his hands on Jason's shoulders.

"What did you do Hyena?" Jason asked without looking away from Batman and Robin.

Danny cackled again, the Hyena laugh that made him shiver just a little. He ducked out from behind Jason and got halfway between the two groups in the stand off. He pulled the bag Jason hadn't noticed off his shoulder and reached inside. Jason could tell Danny was smiling at him from behind the muzzle as he grabbed something and pulled out... The joker's head, Jason's breathing caught in his throat.

"Happy death day baby," Danny said fondly, his voice loud enough that Batman and Robin would be able to hear as well. "Someone cares about you enough to avenge you."

It was brutal, and final, it was a decoration of love as surely as anything else and so much better then a dozen roses. Jason thought he would be horrified, fixated on the head, but the Joker was just a lump of flesh now, a horrified expression fixated on his face as if he hadn't actually expected anyone to kill him. Nothing to be scared of anymore.

"Holy shit," Jason laughed and turned to Danny, scooping him up making Danny yelp in surprise and drop the bag, the Jokers head rolling away as Jason twirled a laughing Danny. "I love you so much Cub! This is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me!" He cheered and Danny blushed all the way to his slightly pointed ears, clearly pleased.

It was the first time Jason had said he loved him and Danny felt like he had won the lottery! He couldn't control his purring as Jason put him back down, he snuggled into Jason's side as he aimed his gun and put a bullet in Joker's decapitated head just for the catharsis of it.

"Jaylad," Bruce's voice was soft and betrayed. As if he had any fucking right!

Reminded of his presence Jason's gaze snapped back to Bruce, as did his guns, pointed at Batman and Robin again. "If you're planning to arrest Hyena for this I will not hesitate to shoot. If you take one step inside My territory," Jason snarled at them. "You can take the head if you want, I don't need to keep a lump of rotting flesh, I just needed to know Someone gave a shit." He stepped forward and kicked the head like a football, sending it hurtling at Batman with pretty damn good aim as Danny cackled behind him, high and loud.

Batman caught it, more on instinct then anything, but it was evidence, it was a body, he would take it, and the corpse from wherever Danny had left it. "Now if you'll excuse us, I think we have a celebration to plan!" Jason said before he shot at them, he wasn't aiming to kill, just to make them leave and it worked. They dashed off and Jason turned back towards Danny.

"I love you too," Danny said, soft and warm, pressing himself against Jason's chest. "Now take me home and Fuck me~"

Jason laughed and scooped Danny up into his arms, letting him wrap his arms back around Jason and cling as he set a quick pace towards their nearest safe house.

Part 2.5

Part 3

Masterpost

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (04) nobody there

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam

masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the grip on your shoulders feel like shackles.

your mother had been requested, which meant you, as the replacement, had been dragged out by your aunt to fulfill it.

her grip tightens.

"oh dear child, my protégé, tell me, what does he say."

a ghastly being stares back at you. large, terrifying, unsightly, not bearing a single resemblance to the man in the picture placed on the table in the middle of a drawn out ritual circle, lighted candles flickering in front of you.

your voice is stuck in your throat, your breath hitches everytime you try to speak.

"come on child, tell the client what his soul says!"

a tear rolls down your face as you blink hard, hoping for the entity to disappear when your eyes open like it was merely a bad dream.

it doesn't.

nails digging into your shoulders, your aunt grows impatient.

" there's-", you trip over your words, your throat feels like sandpaper, "there's no one there."

sharp rows of teeth shine.

you close your eyes harshly and whisper, defeated.

"there's no one there."

"but there was no one there, bruce!"

very rarely had pennyworth ever only referred to his father by his first name, damian notes, and it's usually when he cannot keep his cool, which is also rare.

damian had been sitting in bruce's office discussing a variety of things and everything was going accordingly. that was, until alfred had bursted through the doors after knocking rapidly, not even waiting for a reply, stating that he had something important to discuss with bruce.

damian almost told him off had it not been for the panicked look in alfred's eyes, the sheen of cold sweat on his forehead and his disheveled clothes - contrasting his usual professionalism. bruce, too, grew slightly weary of alfred's state before sending damian out with an apology and a promise to make it up to him some time after so he and pennyworth could discuss in private.

of course, he does not leave immediately, lingering outside the closed door to listen in on what was so important for his time to be interrupted.

and then, he saw you, standing to the side, with your head lowered leaning against the wall.

he scoffs, "aren't you a little old for imaginary friends?"

you stood there motionless, the shadow casted on your face does not betray the twitch of your frown.

"i knew you were pathetic but what are you, 5? are you so unbearable that nobody real can tolerate you?"

he crosses his arm and scowls at you, further irritated by the lack of your reaction.

you wordlessly pushed yourself off the walls. whatever else he wanted to voice died in his throat when you had casted him a look, before making your way back to your room.

damian only stares at your retreating back, the emptiness in your eyes haunts him.

you loved your friends, they meant everything to you. they were the light of your life

you can't wrap your head around this.

your friends were real! they had been there for you when nobody else had, listened to you when nobody else did. they were your everything.

your friends, your dear friends.

but then, what were their names?

no no no no they were real!

how could this happen?

how could you let this happen?

you scream, your hands pull on your hair, you can't believe this. they were real, they made you feel real, their existence meant that you were worthy of being known, of being loved.

this can't be happening, you don't even remember their names?

all the memories you’ve shared, you try to recall what they look like - anything at all, yet your brain comes up with a blurred mess of imagery. how could you mourn them if you don’t remember anything significant? how could you mourn something that never existed? 

your brain hammers in your head, your eyes burn from how much you've cried, your voice is hoarse, your hair a tangled mess, is this what madness feels like?

you're alone, you have always been alone.

alone, unworthy of love.

you turn to look in the mirror.

and the silhouettes of your friends standing beside your reflection stares back.

cassandra makes her way down the hall, the sunlight spilling through the window basking everything in its warmth. it's the one of those rare weekends in which she was unoccupied, and so she decided to take a little walk around the manor while a soft ballad plays through the wired earphones. this time, she decided to walk through the more secluded part of the mansion, not having explored this area in some time; it looked quite barren, barely any decorations and the slight clouds of dust that could only be seen under the light floats in the air. 

she walks leisurely, sometimes stopping to gaze at the rare occurrence of a piece of interior set in the long stretch of emptiness. the stroll continued this way until her eyes landed on a door that was not locked from the outside like the others. curious, she knocked on the door lightly, waiting for any indication that someone was inside. when she hears nothing, cass turns the knob and opens the door cautiously. 

in the dark of your room, things strewn across the floor, only illuminated by the warm light from the doorway, heavily contrasting the cold, blue hue. in the center of the untidy, you laid curled up. your blanket pulled halfway off the bed to cover your form.

your eyes were wide open, all red rimmed and heavy with burden. cassandra turns to the direction where your eyes are trained on, only to find what she could presume was a mirror draped in one of alfred’s old tablecloths.

you had not made a peep, your eyes never leaving the covered mirror to acknowledge her. she takes a hesitant step inside, an involuntary shiver runs down her spine due to the significant drop in temperature with careful and slow steps, not wanting to startle you and avoid stepping on any objects. 

still, with her standing in between you and the object, your eyes remained trained on it through the gaps of her legs. cassandra can feel the paranoia radiating off of you, she's never seen it this intense on anyone before.

cass crouched down before you, she reaches out slowly as if you're a frightened animal, carefully pulling the strands of hair clinging to your forehead behind your ears gently. 

you still don't react. 

your eyes locked forward, as if you feared something might happen if you were to look away for a single moment.

she lightly huffs and turns around, pulling the cloth to the side to investigate. only then did you stir out of your trance.

“don’t”, you croak out, exhausted, “don’t let them see me.”

your voice dips into a whisper that she nearly missed.

“they can’t see me fail them like this.”

you had been avoiding all surfaces that could reflect, always seeing your friends distorted presence on them. from covering the mirror in the bathroom to swapping to plastic utensils and paper plates for the metal and ceramics would concur their image whenever you look at them.

all you could do was run away from this reality, try to steer clear from facing whatever unfortunate nightmare your brain conjures up to fill in the gaps.

it’s especially hard on rainy days like these, when bodies of water would collect beneath your feet and you’d see them stare straight up at you, as if their claws would reach out to drag you down beneath the surface to join them.

time and time again, you’d linger behind the very same secluded area of school as before, yet no longer do your friends come find you as you smoked away, but the echo of their memories still flashes at the back of your mind, like a faulty roll of film.

you wish they came back as a dream, not this shadow warped beyond recognition. 

this memory feels like punishment.

you take a drag, you exhale.

teeth stained with smoke.

it’s routine, though you don’t feel the same.

everything had changed.

and you don’t know what to do.

it’s been a week since then. you’re no longer going out of your way to avoid reflections like the plague, but your gaze always remains downcast at the tiles when using the school bathrooms to avoid an accidental glance at the mirror.

you can’t avoid them forever, you see them on the shiny door knobs, the gloss of the marble, the shine of porcelain, you even see them when you close your eyes - their faces unrecognizable, different every time, turning inhuman and haunting.

it’s better this way, it’s better to accept it. you deserve this.

especially since they start to creep at you from the corner of your eyes, demanding your attention. 

you’re sure your grades had slipped, unable to focus on anything from the lack of rest. your mind always alert, your body constantly in flight or fight, you’d jolt awake immediately after dozing off and seeing flashes of their eyes. the worst part is that you feel guilty: guilty for not remembering anything about them. the rational side of you had come to terms with the fact that your mind had made them up, but despite this you've been unable to let them go. you’ve always prided yourself for being logical and level-headed.

it’s just a way you had coped, you made these people up because you were so alone. they're not real. even if they made you feel real. 

it was such a simple explanation, yet the nagging feeling born from the irrational side of your brain suggests otherwise; the guilt gnaws at you like a chew toy. 

the silence in the manor now feels so loud. you never knew if there were any further discussions between bruce and alfred, or if damian or cassandra had told anyone else in the family. life had just seemed to move on, as if it was just some insignificant issue that no one could be bothered to pick up and enquire any further. you had forced yourself to move on too, set back into pace and complete your goals. you were truly alone.

or were you, even as they start  beckoning your name?

a bottle smashes near your feet while you wipe the table, trying to scrub out the melted wax left from another failed session.

“your mother would never disappoint me like this!”

you flinched in the slightest, but continued your cleaning.

she pulls her hair in frustration, sitting down on the worn down couch the client previously occupied. your mother’s name rolls off her tongue with twisted affection, a longing and loving tone that was never addressed at you.

“what am i supposed to do with your child? a useless little thing…”

you swallow a whimper, you’d long abandoned that wishful thinking that your aunt would ever see you more than a tool for her rituals, more than just a standin for someone who’s never coming back. 

her hands clutches the crystal ball, holding it in an embrace as if it was the most delicate and precious thing in the world. she bends down, cheek pressed onto the crystal and strokes it lovingly, humming an unfamiliar tune in a drunken haze.

your hands slow, as you turn to stare at her. a peaceful expression on her face in the midst of all the empty bottles of liquor surrounding her. the space smelled suffocating from all the burnt incense and sage while the tarot card spread still lay on the table.

the hurl of insults and self-pity finally slows to a stop, and you finally feel the tension lift from your shoulder. you nearly stumble through the obstacle of empty bottles and fancy lowball and rocks glasses, reaching the couch where your aunt had dozed off into slumber.

then, your eyes land on the picture on the table, the only image of your mother you had been allowed to look at. a stranger is all she is to you, realistically. someone that had never even held you once.

she looked kind, a sort of welcoming yet mysterious aura surrounding her. you often times wondered what it would have been like if she never passed, what could have been if you were never forced to substitute her value. 

unable to let go of the illusion that it could be any different, you don’t see the shadowed claws reaching from behind.

you awake with a jolt, exhaustion riddled your form. the clock reads the earlier hours of the day, drawn curtains still showing the dark sky above. struggling to sit up from the carpeted floor of your room, you finally got more than just an hour of sleep, the lumination of the desklamp bounces off paper cups of what used to hold coffee sitting on your desk.

everything feels like a blur.

you no longer had control over your life, you’re gone.

the urge to give into the destruction, to destroy yourself physically as if it would balance out the mangled cries and deep hurt you’ve buried deep within your soul.

you felt betrayed. lord, you’ve tried, you’ve tried and tried and nothing was enough.

you’re so tired of trying only for nothing to change.

a bad child does not deserve good things.

your past was but a distant memory, so long ago. it doesn’t matter anymore, it shouldn’t.

and yet you were unable to let go.

you vowed to never be like her, you were a logical, capable person that only cared about facts and truth, only cared about reality.

there’s no such thing as ghosts, as ghouls, as demons, as gods. even if they were, they’d never heard your cries, the desperation in wanting to take the pain away.

to take you away.

you only had yourself, you were alone.

so why do the voices never quell?

the distortion of their screams, it echoes in your skull even as you press both your hands against your ears.

they won’t go away.

they won’t leave you alone.

you begged into your empty room, begging them to leave you be, to stop, to shut up.

it was enough that they started to manifest as shadows lingering in the corners of your room, following you through the shadows of your steps. they hover above you, when you’re waiting to refill your coffee, when you get your bicycle out for school, when you’re washing your hands in the bathroom.

they’re everywhere.

you cannot escape.

you vowed to never be like her, and yet here you are swinging the first bottle of alcohol you managed to snag from the cellar in the manor, hoping to silence all the noise.

i think the song rlly encapsulates this episode so perchance you should play it hehe. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE 🙏🙏 you sigmas 🤫🧏

(TAGLIST) closed due to limit :sadge:

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[mossangelll]

i would absolutely adore it if you wrote something with yan!silco punishing his darling and soothing them after !!

teehee i had too much fun with this…sadistic silco for the win >:) tysm for requesting ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Yandere!Silco x Reader

tw: physical abuse, manipulative behaviour, kidnapping, mentions of throwing up

“Oh, Y/N. What happened to all our great progress, hm?”

Silco circles you like a hawk, cedar-spiced cigar held loosely in one hand, the plume smoke overwhelming his office. You feel dizzy, nauseous, petrified - yet all you want to do is collapse into his wiry arms and ask, no beg, for his forgiveness.

It had been what, two hours? Two gruelling hours since Silco had forced you to kneel in a bed of rice grains as punishment for trying to escape him.

The sensation of freedom when you managed to briefly pry yourself from his iron grip electrified your soul. You wandered the lanes for two hours, cautious definitely but teeming with newfound enthusiasm; the sounds of the city were louder, colours more vibrant and the rain seemed to wash away the pain you learned to carry along with you everywhere.

But here you are, trapped with Silco once more, kneeling in rice that cuts up your knees into something bloody and raw. Any longer and you’re afraid you might throw up on his expensive rug which wouldn’t end well for you.

Your body starts to waver and his mismatched eyes narrow in displeasure. He crouches down on his haunches next to where you threaten to topple over and takes a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling in your face and pressing the lit end onto your shoulder. You hiss sharply. You can hear fucking sizzling as the smell of burnt flesh mixes with his heedy smoke and you can’t stop yourself as you dry-heave from the overstimulation.

Salty tears run down your face, further adding to the mess of snot and saliva covering your face. You look up at the tall man, wondering how he can just watch as you suffer and not feel a thing. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him - pull him out of whatever insane mindset he’s in that makes him think any of this is remotely normal.

Instead, you watch as Silco flicks open his pocket watch and lazily checks the time before sighing and pocketing it again. He whips out his handkerchief and roughly wipes at the mess on your face as if you’re a nuisance.

He stands back up to his full height and drags you up from where you’re kneeling to carry you to the couch, knowing you’re too weak to stand on your own. You hope and pray that he might leave to let you reflect on your actions but he stays put right next to you on the seat. Your stomach drops.

You tremble under his watchful gaze, his cold eye disturbing you. He turns his sight to your shaky legs and it’s almost as if his entire body deflates at the sight of you looking so pitiful and worn down.

His hands travel down your thighs and stop at your kneecaps where his eyes are trained. His fingers slowly inch towards the inflammed flesh and strokes ever so gently but even his light touch makes you wince and groan in agony at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine.

“I-I’m sorry, Silco! I’ll never hurt you like this again I swear! Please don’t!” You whimper pathetically, eyes downcast as you form a makeshift shield, wrapping your arms around your torso to protect yourself from his temper.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” he murmurs, nose buried in your hair as he raises a hand to pet the back of your head, cradling you right at the junction where your head and neck meets, “I simply demonstrated the consequences of your stupid actions, if you didn’t step out of line then I wouldn’t have been forced to teach you better, you understand?” His molasses voice flusters you despite the taunting vitriol that lurks behind his words.

You nod shakily, throwing your arms around his neck and sob into his chest as he rocks you back and forth. He hums to you with masterfully faked sympathy, you’re both aware it is, but all you care to do in this fragile moment is chase his comforting body.

“There, there. You did so well for me, I trust you learnt your lesson?”

You stay quiet, sniffling and gripping onto the lapels of his maroon suit jacket for as long as hello allow it.

Eventually, Silco lays you back down among the pillows and flashes you a warm smile that isn’t appropriate considering the circumstances. He then ducks his head down to your legs and, before you can understand what he plans to do, his chapped lips are kissing at your bloody knees, tongue darting out to press little kitten licks at the grazes he made.

He goes on like this for what seems like an eternity, just lapping up your wounds in stilted silence until he’s satisfied they’re clean. He goes to rummage through his drawers and comes back with a roll of bandages he carefully wraps around both knees. Even though he’s just put them on, dark red stains are already seeping through the white cotton, a bleak reminder to never disobey Silco like this again because in the end, he will always win.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” His husky voice calls out to you but you already know this isn’t the kind of question you have the luxury of answering truthfully, so you choose to give him the answer he wants.

“Yes please, Silco.”

You feel his lips smile against your skin when he ducks back down to kiss your tender knees.

masterlist

[milykins]

One More Night

I felt inspired by @justalotoffanfiction who wrote a Bayverse Raph story based on Mr. Brightside, so I thought I'd try my hand writing something based on a different song, One More Night by Maroon 5.

TW: Angst, Abuse toward Raph, verbal and physical, swearing and mentions of sex.

*Aged up characters

*Bayverse Raph × Reader

*HEA ending guaranteed

Special thanks to @avery73 for beta-reading!

Even the strongest of us can fall victim to this type of treatment. Raphael was no exception.

SLAP!

The sound reverberated off of the paper-thin walls in the tiny apartment. She was hitting him again. She was always angry at him for some reason. Why the hell was he here again? Oh, yeah, because she wanted to fuck him. This was always the reason.

He got a little bit of satisfaction seeing her shake her hand after slapping him, though it did nothing to quell her seemingly burning hatred toward him. If anything, she looked more enraged that his skin was so tough.

“You ASSHOLE! You think you can come and go as you please?! I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” She was screaming at him because his patrol had gone longer than it normally would, and she did not like to be kept waiting.

He knew this, and he should care, but he didn't. This… ‘thing’ they’d had going on had been well-established for months, but any time something went awry or didn’t go according to plan, she exploded. It’s not like she could really hurt him… slapping, hitting, throwing things at him. It didn’t really matter. That’s what he tried to tell himself, to make excuses for her behaviour because, on the other hand, being with her had resulted in some of the hottest sex imaginable. That’s why he kept coming back. That’s why they both kept coming back.

It still made him angry though. Fucking bitch.

“FUCKING FINE! I’ll just fucking GO THEN.” He meant it and whirled around to leave.

“Don’t you take another step Raphael.” She snapped; her voice deadly low. “Get the hell over here.”

He should leave. He should shut this down right now and never come here again. They both knew that this wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t stop coming.

And she knew it.

Moments later he’d spanned the length of the room and had her pressed tightly against the wall, kissing her ravenously, his hand fisted in her hair. She was just as desperate, hands clawing at him, trying to remove his clothes, and throwing his weapons to the ground. As hot as that was, he’d never liked how she had no respect for them or cared about how dangerous they were. All she had cared about was getting what she wanted.

In the aftermath, he laid in her bed staring at the ceiling hating himself. She was deeply asleep beside him blissfully unaware of his conflicting feelings. She’d apologize of course in her moments of clarity, even promise that next time she’d be nicer, gentler. She never kept that promise.

Quietly, as only a ninja could, he dressed, retrieved his weapons, tucking them safely into his belt and left. He felt like such an idiot. He needed to stop fucking doing this. He knew his brothers and their father were worried about him but he shut down anytime anyone tried to ask him about it. The only one who had any idea of what was going on was Casey.

“Dude, she sounds fucking awful, why do you keep going there?”

“Cuz she’s hot and the sex is amazing.”

“No pussy is worth this, man. She’s slapping the shit out of you every time you go.”

“’s fine, it doesn’t really hurt me any.”

“Maybe not physically, but it ain’t great for your head.”

“I’m fine.”

They’d left it at that; but as time went on, he was slowly coming to the realization Casey was right. This wasn’t good for him but he kept going back. He needed to stop; he needed a reason to cut ties with her for good.

You ended up being that reason.

You’d been best friends throughout your teens and had lost touch after the two of you had met your respective partners. Your relationship had ended disastrously with him cheating on you with a ‘friend’ of yours. Immediately, you cut ties and burned those bridges with both of them. Now single, your thoughts had turned back to Raph. You wondered how he was doing and hoped he was happy. You wished the two of you could reconnect and catch up, but you were afraid he’d forgotten all about you.

It's funny how life works sometimes. One Saturday night, you heard glass breaking in the apartment below you. You had just moved in and had groaned when you realized there was probably a loud argumentative couple living below you now. Hearing more noise and muffled yelling prompted you to go to your balcony to see what was going on. You figured you could call the police if it got really bad and you were just a tiny bit nosy.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw and heard.

“You’re fucking crazy! I’m done. WE’RE FUCKING DONE! I ain’t never coming back here!” It was Raph, it was unmistakably his voice. You’d know it anywhere.

Craning your neck over the side of your balcony you looked far as you could and saw him. The poor guy looked like a wreck. There was red liquid and bits of broken glass all down his front. From what you could see, it appeared to be remnants of a glass of wine. You could assume that it had been hurled at him along with the entire bottle it looked like.

“Don’t you fucking walk out on me, Raphael! GET BACK HERE!” The woman who’d thrown those things was screaming at him but he wasn’t turning back.

It was only when you heard the screen door slam shut that you dared call out to him. “Raph?”

He heard you, how could he not? Seconds later, he was swinging himself up to your balcony, whispering your name in surprise and looking ashamed at his appearance. He hurriedly brushed any remaining pieces of glass to the floor. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I just moved here.” Unable to stop yourself, you reached to grab his arm but stopped when you saw him physically tense up. What had happened to him? He used to be so strong in your eyes, and now he looked afraid to have you touch him.

Slowly, as if you were approaching a scared animal, you gently pulled him inside. You couldn’t help but notice that he just looked so angry and… broken.

“Are you okay?” You knew your concern was valid since he was quiet a long moment before answering.

“…I’m fine.” He was lying to you, and he hated himself for doing that. He regretted it the moment those two words left his lips.

Sucking in a breath you gently grabbed those huge biceps of his and met his troubled gaze. God, you’d missed those piercing green eyes of his. “You’re not fine Raph… you’re covered in wine and…” You looked at his face, studying it more. “Does she… hit you?”

He turned away in shame as he tensed. “Doesn’t hurt none…”

You narrowed your gaze, your own anger rising up as you gave those arms a squeeze. “How often is she hitting you, Raph…?” Again, when he doesn’t answer right away your tone and your grip become harder. “How. Often?”

He spoke so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “A lot…” If he’s finally admitting it to someone, it should be you.

A lump was quickly forming in your throat as you realized what had been going on. What kind of relationship he’d been dealing with. Why he was so tense and unsure. How unhealthy it was and why you hadn’t heard from him in so long.

“Raph… that’s… abuse. She’s abusing you.” You whispered these words because it hurt you to say them any louder. You knew Raph would never lay a hand against a woman, but you never expected him to be on the receiving end of this kind of thing.

His first instinct was to argue against that. He bristled as he backed away out of your grasp, walls of defense shooting in place as he tried to deny it. That was ridiculous! Him being abused.

“No it ain’t! I’d know if I was… that’s fucking ridiculous!” He’d curled his hands into large fists, his shoulders hunched and slightly shaking with his denial.

You can feel him practically vibrating with humiliation and uncertainty. You say nothing more as you go to him and start gently rubbing his shell. You’d done this often for him when you both were younger. The action was soothing to him whenever he was angry and upset about something. When you finally felt him relax, you moved around to his front, hugging him tightly. A few tears slip down your cheeks, adding to the wine stains on his red hoodie. You felt absolutely broken for him.

“Please don’t say you’re fine Raph… not to me…” You attempted to swallow the lump and keep your tears at bay. “It’s okay… It’s okay to admit this is happening to you, and it’s okay to leave…” You choked out a sob. “It’s okay… to not be okay. I’m here for you.”

That was it. Finally, finally, the walls fall down as his arms came around you holding you so tight you could barely breathe. He’d been living a lie for so long, spent too many months with this appalling treatment, but seeing you, hearing that was all it took. The dam broke; he buried his face into your shoulder, shaking slightly as he finally allowed himself to break.

He was crying, you realized as he quietly sobbed, his own tears joining yours as you cried together. “It’s okay, big guy…” you choked out. “It’s gonna be okay…” You rubbed his shell as best you could, being an anchor for him in his time of need.

When he finally looked up, you could see his mask was damp, his expression vulnerable and unsure accompanied with shaky breaths. You suddenly had the urge to kiss him. Where had that come from? You two were just friends… right? Plus, this wasn’t the right time… he needed to get his head right and recover. You shook the thought away and took his hand, guiding him to your couch. “Take that off.” You softly ordered. “I’ll wash it.”

Too exhausted to fight or argue, he listened and removed both his red mask and hoodie. Gently, you took them and threw both items into your washing machine with laundry soap and oxyclean. Hopefully, that would be enough to remove the wine stains.

He relaxed into your couch and called for you. “C’mere.” The request was soft yet held a note of urgency. When you approached, he reached for you and pulled you onto his lap. “Jus’ wanna hold you,” he murmured, needing your comfort and closeness, something he’d been severely lacking in for a long time.

It was easy to melt into his embrace and wrap your arms around him in return. “I gotcha big guy…”

He held you quietly for a long time, just breathing in your scent and taking in your soft energy. This was the turning point, the sign he’d needed to make a permanent change in his life and cut that toxic woman out of his life. He hadn’t felt like he had the strength to do it previously, but with your support, now he did.

“Thank you… for bein’ here…”

“I’ll always be here for you Raph…”

True to his word, he’d made good on his decision to completely cut ties with her. There had been even more yelling and items being thrown at him, but he was done. Once he’d made up his mind, that was it. He was one hundred percent DONE. She didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell to come back from it.

You were there waiting for him when he told you the news and were so happy and relieved or him. His brothers, in turn, were also relieved with Mikey even calling to thank you for being there for his big brother.

He visited you regularly, now having a much better reason to go to that same apartment building. The two of you slowly reconnected and started making up for lost time. You were a crucial part of his recovery and ended up being a major element in his support system. The feelings you had toward him from that fateful night had only grown stronger, but you wouldn’t act on them. You couldn’t, not until he was fully healed.

Raph had been realizing how wrong he’d been to let you go and had vowed to make it up to you. It was little things at first, stopping by after patrols with pizza, sending you a random meme that he hoped would make you laugh, and bringing you your favourite latte in the mornings. He was slowly coming to terms with how much he had missed this and how much he had missed you. This is what a healthy relationship looked like, and he felt like a fool for not seeing it earlier.

It was a few months later that it had finally hit him over the head that what he’d needed and what he truly wanted had been right in front of him all along. He saw you, and when he’d nervously confessed his feelings, he’d been absolutely elated when you’d told him you felt the same way.

That first kiss you two shared had been the pinnacle of his journey to healing.

Afterwards, you’d held him close and whispered these words.

“No one will ever hurt you again.”

Because you would make sure of it.

The End

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