#and man i feel like im so close to start up on the unhealthy coping mechanisms idk how ive been avoiding it lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tatorthots · 2 years

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Im sad so I take it out on all of you<3

So, I was thinking the pillars (preferably giyu, obanai or Sanemi) discover their S/O is cheating on them, they admit it then break up. Then we basically get to know what they do/feel after said break up. Like, would they deem it harder to kill demons with their mind preoccupied or?-

— to the one who…

Pairings: Giyuu Tomioka, Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Tengen Uzui + wives x afab!reader

=͟͟͞͞♡ Warnings: ANGST/no comfort, cheating, suggestive content, dark content, slightly violent underlines (Sanemi), unhealthy behavior, toxic behavior, toxic relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, cursing, polygamous relationship (Tengen)

=͟͟͞͞♡ Synopsis: how they handle you cheating on them

=͟͟͞͞♡ a/n: how dare you make me a victim in my own inbox 🤺 literally crying, throwing up and sliding down the wall as I wrote this . btw I tried making each story unique so thoughts anyone?

- ps sorry if Tengens is longer than the rest!! his is basically a 4 in 1! I swear I love them all the same xx

Love is beautiful, isn’t it? How it slowly develops. The way it’s seeds find homes under your skin and bloom into something beautiful. It’s funny, really, how a feeling can so closely resemble a taste. He’d describe it as the taste of fine black tea gently brewed in warm milk and honey. Oh, how his pretty eyes now soften when he hears of love. A feeling he never quite noticed. That was until he met you, and it was then, and only then, that he felt like the balances of his world gained its symmetry, for the world he lived in was now lively and full.

Giyuu

to the one who stayed

Giyuu spent his life observing as the world shifted around him. Idly standing by in the sidelines as the world moved around him. Yet most of all, he spent a lot of time observing you — his most beloved.

So it didn’t take him long to connect the dots. The lingering stares, the way you’d pull away from his touch, the time you exchanged for the company of another, and the sudden to drastic change of detached behavior. It was all silently noted in Giyuu's mind the second he noticed something off. The Water Pillar considers himself a man of logic, he’s not really the type to get caught up in emotion or allow it to cloud his judgment, but god did he try to live in ignorance. Maybe it wasn’t the best or healthiest thing to do but he figured he’d rather live hurt by you than be abandoned. So he made up excuses for you when you’d show up late at night with disheveled clothes and hidden ‘bruises’ on your neck. He’d rationalize when you’d leave him, muttering some quick lie to hurriedly rush into the embrace of another and away from his; even on your anniversary. He’d desperately reason you still loved him— even if you gave him every reason to know you didn’t. For a while, the Pillar started to believe his own lies until he caught glimpse of the way your eyes lit up when he came into range. The same way they used to look at him. No matter what way he’d try to look at it or how he tried to spin it he couldn’t come up with an excuse; deep down in his soul he knew you weren’t his anymore. And deep down in yours, you knew he knew you did too.

But his devotion to you remained stubbornly resilient. So when you’d be off and away from him, he’d spend his time under the Wisteria tree where he first promised himself to you. Reminiscing that day while he twirls a dainty flower between his fingers he glanced down at the empty spot beside him. You used to love visiting the Wisteria tree, smiling and giggling as you rest your back against Giyuus's chest while he held you securely in his arms. Sometimes you spent the time chatting and talking about your goals and ambitions, and others you spent silently listening to the sound of croaking frogs and chirping birds as you gazed up at the petals of the tree dancing in the wind. His heart squeezed in pain at the memory. ‘When was it, y/n?’ Leaning his head back on the tree he shakily sighed, ‘When did you stop loving me?’ Blinking back the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes, he could only stare blankly as the petals swayed in the breeze.

‘Is this what love is? Am I doing this right?’

Some might question or criticize Giyuu for his decision to stay within a relationship that was so obviously toxic. But those people didn’t understand how much kindness and patience you showed the Pillar when you first met. You were sincerely interested in getting to know him and never dismissed or demeaned him when others forgot him on the sidelines all too easily. They weren’t there to see how gently you handled him as you taught him what it was like to love and be loved. And most of all, Giyuu had already surrendered himself to you during a summer festival as the fireworks reached their peak performance. “My life and heart are yours to do what you see fit with.” he’d whispered against your ear before brushing your hair back and meeting your lips with his. He made this promise long before any of this happened, and there was no going back now. The way he sees it, if you trusted someone enough to submit your life to them then it doesn’t matter if one day they burn those bridges with you still on them. It’s easy to see a situation from the outside and direct it from afar but the love you two shared had so much more depth than that. In short, the man adored you, and he genuinely saw the best in you. Until the day you discard him he will continue to love you — devotedly.

It wasn’t until a few days later when you and Giyuu stopped to rest on a bridge in the countryside that he had broken his silence. “Why are you cheating on me?” his tone was flat but held an unfamiliar waver in it. Startled and caught off guard you snapped your eyes from the streaming river underneath to Giyuus's burning gaze beside you. Immediately your face twisted to one of mortification at the realization that you’d finally been caught in your web of lies. “I-I don’t… Tomioka what are you saying?” He winced, hurt by your response, “I know you’ve been having an affair. Y/n please.. be honest with me. Why?” Panic set in as your mind scrambled to come up with an answer but upon peering into your lovers tired eyes clouding with sorrow you eventually sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry.” Looking down in shame you bit your lip to hold back the tremble in your voice. Now wasn’t the time to be the victim. It’s not like your conscious hadn’t been eating you alive each time you’d lay next to your sleeping boyfriend after coming back late from another man’s bed. Or how you’d stare at yourself in the mirror with disgust when your fingertips would trace the hickies and marks left on your skin, you hated how they tauntingly glared at you. But most of all you hated yourself for the way you mistreated Giyuu because of it — projecting your anger onto him and treating him as the traitor.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt cold fingertips caress your cheek and gently move to lift your chin up. Widening your eyes in surprise you felt like absolute shit when you locked eyes with Giyuus sapphire irises peering down at you so lovingly, all the while tears threatened to cascade down his perfect skin. But what he said made you wish the earth could just swallow you whole. “Please don’t be upset, my love.” his voice cooed gently. Moving his right hand he gingerly tucked loose strands of hair back in place while his left delicately held onto the small of your waist to pull you closer to him. Resting his chin on the crown of your head he exhaled quietly in satisfaction. It’d been so long since he last held you like this, he missed it so much. You heard him shift slightly before feeling him place a lingering kiss on the top of your head, “it’s okay. I’d never leave you…” the pain in his voice made your skin burn and your eyes sting as you clutched onto his chest and wailed in frustration; feeling both relieved and furious at how easily he’d forgiven you. The pure love this man held for you was unparalleled to any you’d ever or could ever experience and you simply abused it — you abused him.

Despite ending your affair and spending your time attentively trying to fix the pieces that had been broken, your relationship was never the same. After all, love after betrayal doesn’t necessarily mean the person betrayed remains unchanged.

Giyuu used to be distant from others but now he was almost completely secluded. His rigid attitude turned into one void and emotionless, almost as if he was completely hallowed from within. His work hardly seemed to be affected by this incident, but other Hashiras had commented that even the demons he kills show more emotion than he does. You desperately tried to reassure him of your love for him and whisper tender affirmations each night as you held him in your arms, but it never seemed to help. His touches were cold. They no longer radiated the same warmth they used to when he grazed your skin. He’d still smile at you but they always seemed a little sad. The man who once loved you was now a mere shadow of his former self and it made your stomach twist in regret. Though despite his distant love he’s become clingier than before. Clearly much more insecure than he used to be. When he wasn’t out on a mission he’d often find himself wrapped around your embrace whenever he got the chance, and on other occasions, you’d find him sitting under the Wisteria tree.

The Water Pillar was a broken man before you met him but now his pieces weren’t just broken, they were missing.

Obanai

to the one who blamed himself

You’ve been gone more often than usual — it’s not out of the ordinary to leave home for week long expeditions but you were always fairly quick and efficient with them. Meaning coming home early or on time was pretty normal for you. One might assume that being partnered for a mission might even cut that time in half, but it seemed it only extended it.

He found it rather coincidental that you just so happen to be assigned a partner for this specific mission. The partner in question being a relatively new recruit into the Demon Slayer Corps, not to mention one who caught the attention of one of the other Hashiras. Apparently the Slayer was quick witted and talented which is why he was paired with you — another fellow Hashira. Initially the mission was said to be pretty straight forward: find the demon causing panic and kill it. It wasn’t even ranked as any formidable demon. The mission was set to be a sort of trial run for the new recruit to demonstrate his skills as well as display his adaptability to working with teammates. You were there to analyze his performance and give a verdict to hq on whether or not the recruit was fit to train under the Hashiras. The assignment was pretty simple. So then why were you still gone?

Obanai could be defined as a jealous man at times, he’ll admit that, but after the both of you took your time to slowly build a concrete foundation and form a strong bond his insecurities, inferiority, and feelings of being undeserving all eased in intensity when he finally allowed himself to feel safe in your love. And yes, after hearing you’d be going on an expedition with some stupid prodigy all the other brainless Hashiras were raving about he felt a little uncomfortable but when he saw how giddy and excited you were to be somebody’s first mentor — especially since it was Master Kagaya who assigned you the position himself — he couldn’t find it in himself to voice his concern over some petty feelings of a hurt ego. Which by the way, was really hard to suppress when he caught sight of the guy. He hated to admit but the man had a build similar to Rengoku with a face as ‘traditionally’ handsome as Tengen. It irked him to no end but Obanai trusted you.

Though his trust soon turned into anxiety and then doubt.

Not once did he imagine he’d be suspicious of his lover, or doubt your loyalty, but the unsettling feeling in his gut only got worse by the day and by the following week it felt like his instincts were practically setting off alarm bells that something was wrong. He tried his damndest to rationalize with himself. Maybe he was just overreacting? You’ve never given him reason to question you. Even when Kaburamaru hissed at your touch before departing, he decided to look past it — I mean, you’ve been together for so long, what could change now? So instead he clicked his tongue and busied himself with killing any filthy demons infecting the nearby villages. Maybe your trail had gone cold, or maybe there was another demon unexpectedly lurking in the shadows? You would always tell him everything that crossed your mind no matter how stupid or ridiculous it was, and you’d still diligently reassure him you loved him when you’d catch him staring at his reflection too long. You would never hurt him like that. You were just caught up, that’s all.

But your arrival only made him wish you never came back at all.

Since returning you seemed more fidgety than usual, rigid even. When he asked you how your mission went you laughed nervously, and the moment you went on an apprehensive ramble about the mission, his mind had finally come to confirm what his heart already knew to be true.

“What about h/n.” His eyes narrowed sharply on yours, “You went on a three week long expedition with him yet you haven’t mentioned him once.” His voice trembled at the end, and he felt disgusted by his vulnerability.

“We didn’t talk much.” Your gaze glued to the ground. Obanai studied your shifty form before suddenly turning on his heels and ending the conversation short. He didn’t bother to utter a single word or even glance back at you as you called out to him. Instead his fists clenched and his focus remained straight ahead. He’d like to say it was due to his dignity that he didn’t dare turn back at the sound of your voice calling his name, but in truth it was in fear that you’d hear his voice shake when he tried to speak or catch glimpse of the way his watery eyes betrayed his enraged look.

Upon returning home later that night he immediately sought refuge in the safety of his bedroom. Self deprecating thoughts had been fervently enveloping his mind since he left. Memories of long ago whispering poison in his ears until he picked up the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air, dispelling the intrusion. From the corner of his bloodshot eyes he caught sight of the promise ring he gifted you — the one he’d kiss on your finger each time he’d hold your hand. Now it sat returned and desolate on the bed. That jade ring used to be a promise of a love that was meant to be forever eternal, but now symbolizes another promise. A final goodbye. With a sharp inhale he stalked over to the bed, wide mismatched eyes glaring down at the thin green band. Snatching it from the bed he crushed it in his palm until it was nothing but dust and grains. “If I am bound for hell then let it be hell. No more false heavens.”

Weeks have passed by since then, but Obanai hasn’t moved on. He decided to leave your life quietly and sever every last thread connecting you to him. When the other Hashiras asked him about what happened he’d immediately lose his temper. His tongue far more venomous than any serpent slithering in this realm of reality. In turn this made being around him all the more difficult. Obanai already held a reputation of being demeaning and demanding, he was cold to anyone who interacted with him but now all those traits just seem to be amplified.

But most notable of all was the image he now held of himself.

Deeply rooted in his soul, the Serpent Pillar never believed he was truly worth loving. He wasn’t born with that right. As much as he hated his family for what they said to him, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t agree. He was doomed to living a life of suffrage and because he allowed himself to feed into the pathetic idea of being loved, he was now facing the consequences of forgetting his place.

So he simply lost himself in going off on mission after mission, not necessarily to take his anger and hurt out on the demons, but to get as far away from you and the corpses of memories haunting the halls back home.

Sanemi

to the one who broke

Sanemi caught you red-handed cheating on him.

Huge mistake for you, fatal mistake for the poor trash currently groping your half-naked body in a secluded area of the woods in broad fucking daylight. Of course upon seeing this, Sanemi’s vision turned red. It was almost instinctual how his body reacted. His mind was blank, he didn’t think of the consequences or the fact he was a Hashira with an image to represent for the Corps., he just… well, reacted. It took no time at all for Sanemi to beat that slimy bastard one punch shy from death. Your cries begging him to stop might as well have fallen on deaf ears because his movements wouldn’t cease until the guys face was bloody and his fists ached from the brute force of him pounding whoever the fuck side piece he found you with. Slowly blinking as he hovered above the guys body he eventually came to his senses. The sound of your voice increasingly grounding him back to the situation he had just caught you in, and that’s when his lilac stare snapped up to lock with yours. Picking himself up he slowly strided towards you — anger and confusion clearly evident on his pretty features until he finally reached you. Extending a freshly bruised hand he roughly cupped your jaw.

“Did ya like it?” He seethed through gritted teeth. His predatory irises narrowed on your puffy eyes as they wet your cheeks with tears. “Was it worth it?”

If you focused closely you’d probably be able to notice the small crystal droplets collecting in the corner of his eyes and the uneven pattern of his breathing. In fact, if you pay attention you might be able to note the underlying hint of pain hidden in his voice. But you didn’t have time to register his demeanor before he pushed you up against a tree with his hand still firmly grasping your jaw and his face inches from yours.

“Fucking answer me.” He growled, almost too pathetically close to pleading, but you simply squeezed your eyes shut while tears continued to stream down.

Your mind ran fervently with embarrassment as you tried desperately to cover your exposed skin — humiliated and ashamed at the compromised position you’d put yourself in. Before this Sanemi had never once laid a hand on you like this, in fact, despite his aloof and aggressive nature, he’s never done anything to purposefully hurt you. The Wind Pillars love has always been loud in its silence — domineering, possessive and rough around the edges sure — but never one someone could question. Many of the other Hashiras even joked about the way Sanemi treated you compared to the way he interacts with other people, how love can truly make the heart grow fonder no matter how stubborn and hot-blooded it’s owner is. It was clear he didn’t simply view you as his but rather viewed himself as yours. Which is why he couldn’t bear to remain in your godforsaken presence any longer. Because that’s all it was, wasn’t it? You were never actually his.

So he released his hold on you and furiously turned to disappear into the creeping veil of sunset.

To say that Sanemi allowed his rage and raw emotions to consume him is an understatement. He went on a complete rampage challenging any demon misfortunate enough to cross his path. He slaughtered and ripped demons apart the same way you did his heart — no, no Sanemi wasn’t cruel enough to match you. For the rest of the night up until dawn, Sanemi remained located in the deepest and darkest parts of the forest until sunlight finally caressed his skin and illuminated the litter of wounds and injuries now decorating his body. That’s when he finally snapped out of his violent dissociation. But he didn’t bother covering his wounds or stopping the bleeding, instead he just picked up his sword from the ground where it laid surrounded by fallen branches and the crimson color wetting it’s blade.

“Shit.” Coughing out a bit of blood he tiredly limped his way back home. Completely void of any emotion at all.

For a moment since the incident, Sanemi felt tranquility, too tired and mentally drained from the night of nonstop fighting but upon reaching his bedroom door it felt as if every raw emotion slumbering under his skin had violently awoken to fuel his veins. But instead of anger he felt despair. Falling to his knees he grit his teeth to keep himself from crying out loud and instead threw his sword to the side only to be startled by the sound of glass shattering. Glaring up in the direction of the noise he scoffed to see he had shattered the mirror you’d placed across the room, now parallel from him. His lips turned into a sneer until he caught glimpse of himself between the cracks of the glass. His whole demeanor seemed primitive and dirty, some of his scars reopened along to what he imagined to be a few new ones and his eyes seemed to stare back but they seemed unfamiliar. Though the most noticeable difference hid within. The numbness of his body reverberated into his heart and the blood of his emotions stained onto his soul, mockingly covering the bit of purity he had left. With nothing left, Sanemi curled into himself with his calloused digits intertwining and harshly gripping his hair. Tears streamed down his dirty face as he felt the last of his compassion slip away from his fingers. The life he felt undeserving of having was so close in reach, he could swear his fingertips felt the radiating warmth of it, but it’s like once his fingertip grazed it, it sealed away further from him than before — forever remaining out of reach.

All he wanted was you.

Sanemi’s prowess in battle is genuinely something predatory — especially given that he has quite the blood-lust for killing demons — but now it seems like a new motive has been added to the mix. His fighting style has always been brutish but never reckless, though now it just seemed like he’d linger a little too long on deaths door before completing his missions. It was a subtle but distinct difference Shinobu had noted since she started to see him frequenting the Butterfly Estate more often.

The Wind Pillars hatred really manifested after your betrayal. He trusted you with his pain and you only hurt him even more. You knew why he was the way he was, you knew why he was so abrasive, violent and dismissive, you knew how he was only terrified of losing any more of the people he loved — yet you still dragged him in the mud and mocked the vulnerability he so fully entrusted to you. You knew. But I guess this should serve as a lesson to the Pillar. Demons and humans cannot coexist, but what then are demons if not former people? How much malice is already burrowed under the surface before turning into the wretched creatures he kills every night? You were a lesson.

The wolf in sheeps clothing.

Tengen

to the ones who reminisce

It’s such a sad misconception to believe infidelity doesn’t exist within polygamous relationships. Though it’s not like you weren’t aware of it. So then what prompts somebody to cheat? Dissatisfaction, neglect, jealousy, lack of intimacy or connection, lack of flair? What was it, what was it that prompted you to cheat on them? What went soo horribly wrong you had to go and do something so selfish.

But it’s also not like the signs weren’t already there in all their deceitful might. They all just couldn’t — or wouldn’t — believe it. You had a happy, loving home with four people who’d give up the world for you. There wasn’t some weird hierarchy in the relationship, everyone was loved entirely and equally. The wives were so kind and welcoming when Uzui first introduced you and it was them who begged their husband to propose to you. Sure the dynamic was a bit strange for you given that polygamy wasn’t something you’ve ever experienced but they all did their best to be as gentle and understanding as possible. Meaning jealousy or miscommunication couldn’t have been the reason for your betrayal. Not to mention that you were also happy — or at least were at some point. You loved Uzui with such a burning passion! Loud and flamboyant, as if the man himself hung the stars in the sky. You loved Hina the way flowers loved the beams of the sun, and just like a tiger lily, you’d always gravitate towards her warmth. You loved Makio as fiercely as a warrior in battle, relentlessly and earnestly — someone worth fighting for. And Suma? The bond you had with her was innocent and childlike, you handled her with care and never once scolded her for her emotions, instead comforting her with open arms.

That’s what made it hurt so much. When did you lose your love for your family? What changed?

It was Suma who first noticed something off about you. It was another day of Makio and Suma arguing over something petty, and as per usual Suma ended up running off to find you. When she found you tending to the garden she immediately tackled you from behind crying about how Makio had been bullying her all morning just because she accidentally dropped the egg basket on the way back from the chicken coop. Her tears and snot was already covering the entirety of your back but instead of cooing words of comfort she heard a small sigh leave your lips. Turning, you held her as she cried on your shoulder but she didn’t feel the same radiating warmth coming from you. In fact, you were hardly listening as she hiccuped through her whines — you were completely zoned out! Lifting her head up to peak at you she caught glimpse of the irritated glint in your eye. A look she’d never seen directed at her before.

Then Makio started to raise some questions. Everyone in the household had a job to do to keep the house running, her and yours was picking up medical supplies from the Butterfly Estate. The errand run was biweekly. You’d go, gather the supplies — maybe chat a bit with the girls while you wait — and then go home. Simple. But lately you’ve been going a little more often than usual. It started when you began making weird excuses, from ‘Oh they forgot to add bandages’ to ‘Uzui went on a mission this week so I’m just going back in case we need more supplies!’. At first she shrugged off the situation, thinking maybe you’ve been more on edge since rumors began circulating about a Upper Moon lurking in the Red Light District, but then she noticed that sometimes you’d come back empty handed, muttering a quick ‘They didn’t have anything…’ before shuffling back inside. Curiously she visited the Butterfly Estate to ask about it and when they said you hadn’t come to pick up any supplies recently it was like an alarm had just been set off.

Next was Hina who noticed something was wrong. It started with nervous chuckles and forced smiles here and there when you’d all be enjoying time together. She caught on at the retracted touches and shifty behaviors — and for some reason you were always tugging and fixing your clothes. She tried asking if something was wrong or if something had been bothering you but you’d always quickly dismiss her questions or get upset with her for ‘always assuming the worst’ and snapping at her for pestering you with ‘stupid questions’. Hurt and confused she’d let the topic go but your reaction just prompted more questions. Her final straw though was when an argument occurred within the group involving Makio and Uzui, and a messy Suma sobbing as she begged them to stop fighting. Moments like these would usually be times when you and Hina would work together as the voice of reason. It was such a relief for her to have someone she can rely on at times like these, especially because you were always so present and patient in the relationship, but this time instead of trying to settle everyone down and find a solution you burst in anger. Callling them childish for their stupid fights and storming off and out of their sight — leaving your husband and wives staring wide eyed as the sliding door slammed shut.

Now Uzui has had his eyes set on you since your behavior shifted. You were smart, cunning, and surprisingly conniving — he’ll give you that. It took him a while to see through your deceit. I mean you were going up against the Sound Hashira himself, despite what he says, he got his position as a Hashira for a reason; you kept your cards close to your chest with him which made this reality all the more heartbreaking because you did it with intent. Uzui loved you so much and when thoughts of infidelity began plaguing his mind he couldn’t help but blame himself a little. Had he not been paying enough attention to you? Were you unsatisfied with his flamboyant boasts of love? Did you realize polygamy wasn’t for you? Were you looking for something more? Something entirely to call your own? But if you were why couldn’t you talk to him about it, why did you have to go and rip apart the home you built with him? After surmising what the truth might be, he took a few days to process the pain and heartache that came at the probability, and as much as he hated it, he indulged his need for you as much as he could until it became unbearable. It's not that he lived in denial, he just truly couldn't wrap his head around his sweet wife doing something so wicked. Even the idea alone sounded so wildly ridiculous to him, that under different circumstances, he would throw his head back and laugh. That was until the cold caress of your touch stung his skin and the absent look in your eyes broke his heart.

Uzui knew then that he had a choice to make.

Tengen isn’t someone who beats around the bush or tip toes over issues. No matter how hard the confrontation is, he’s never backed down from getting answers. It’s just such a shame that he had to take such drastic measures with you. Not only did he need to settle what exactly was going on between the two of you but he needed to answer to his wives. After all, he wasn’t the only one reeling back from this, his wives — your wives — were too. So he waited outside the entrance of the estate for your return and hurriedly ushered you to the seclusion of the garden where he figured his wives wouldn’t be able to hear. You stood nervously in front of him as his eyes narrowed on you and his usual flair of showmanship completely 180’d. Clicking his tongue he tilted his head, “Got something on your mind?” his voice was low. “N-no… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice wavered at the end, he noticed. “I’m talking about your cheating, what else?” Immediately your eyes widened at his bluntness; your voice stuttered as you tried to speak but no words came out. You were completely caught off guard and unprepared. Silence filled the room for a minute before he spoke, a dry chuckle croaking out of his chest. “So it’s true, huh?” He bit the inside of his cheek in a desperate attempt to keep his composure but the feelings he’s been trying to keep at bay began bubbling up to the surface. Anger, sorrow, and confusion jabbed at his heart and he couldn’t find it in himself to keep his act. Hearing him take a shaky inhale you hesitantly turned your gaze to him, chest clenching when you caught glimpse of the single tear running down his cheek as he struggled to hold himself together. The sight alone made your own eyes water and your skin burn with shame. ‘What was I thinking?’ blubbering out apologies, your walls began crumbling as hot tears poured down your eyes. Upon hearing your wails and Uzuis voice raising in volume, the three wives came rushing to the source to see what was going on; when they arrived they all paused in their tracks at the scene in front of them. Collectively they understood the situation.

Suma was the first to speak. Her wide blue eyes turned to look at you as her voice barely spoke above a whisper, “Is it… true?” unconsciously her body had began moving towards you, her heart automatically gravitating to comfort her crying wife but as her arm reached out to touch you Makio quickly swatted it away. Looking to her left Suma saw Makio angrily wiping her tears away as she stepped in front of her and furiously glared at you, “Answer her, y/n!!” she roared. Solemnly you looked up at your three wives with puffy eyes pooling in regret, and instantly it felt like their world had stopped. Buckling to her knees, Suma began wailing. Her mind ran in a frenzy, hiccuping cries asking if it was her fault, if she had been too clingy. She caved into herself as she hugged her stomach to calm the nauseating feeling accumulating in her system and in her heart. Makio erupted into a blind rage, enveloping her in an armor of fury to keep herself from breaking. She screamed and yelled at you, calling you ‘heartless’ and ‘a traitor’ in her wake of emotions, even if her voice cracked in between. Hina wept silently in the sidelines, averting her gaze from you and squeezing her eyes shut to try and pretend none of this was happening; desperately she tried blocking out the commotion of raw emotions ringing in her ears. And in the midst of all the chaos it was Uzui who gave the final verdict. Coldly and detached, his maroon irises deadpanned on you before snarling out a single word. A single word that would cut the thread of fate connecting the five of you.

“Leave.”

Seasons have passed since that day and the four have finally returned to their normal routines. Ironically enough, the trauma had brought them all closer together, comforting and checking in on each other attentively as they all tried their hardest to move on. For a while Tengens flamboyance and charisma dimmed. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was because he began struggling with his appetite, or maybe it was because nothing was appealing to him anymore. Hina thinks maybe it’s all three. The Sound Hashira tried to keep his mourning as lowkey as possible, he didn’t want to weigh his wives down or make them worry more than they already do, he knows how hard this is for everyone and he’d rather they focus on their own healing than fret over his. But not everything can be bottled up before it spills and that leak spread all over his work. During his time of grieving, Uzui found it harder to go on missions, he didn’t have the same motivation or flair and he quickly found himself feeling irritated each time he’d take off on another assignment. He hated coming back home after missions most of all, mostly because his thoughts were so consumed by grief that his efficiency in killing demons took a hit and he’d come back home littered in wounds, only prompting his wives to worry about him instead of taking care of themselves.

Over time the group had started to heal little by little and their usual spark had returned. Smiles and laughter echoed through their home and regular arguments between Makio and Suma returned back to schedule. Their little family survived thanks to their endless love and support for one another, but sometimes… sometimes things were still hard. It happens when Hina would be busy in the kitchen, stressed and overwhelmed with balancing both her cooking and Suma making a mess with the flour, she’d instinctively call out your name — pausing before realizing you weren’t.. here anymore. It’d occur when Makio would be out running errands. She’d stop by a snack booth to buy something to eat only to find that instead of buying one steak skewer she accidentally bought two. Staring at the second skewer she’d grit her teeth before angrily throwing it in the woods, muttering it’s only use was for the wildlife to eat. It’d happen for Suma when she’d find herself overwhelmed with emotion. She’d run off from whatever situation she found herself in, sobbing and hiccuping to go find you, running through the halls only to slowly come to an abrupt stop when she’d remember what happened. At times like that she’d hide herself in a closet and silently weep into her hands. Then there was Uzui, the one who seemed most pieced together. It wasn’t really situations or events that still kept him visiting your memories. It was a small picture he kept hidden under the floorboards of his bedroom. A single picture of you smiling on your wedding day, god how you looked so gorgeous, so…. happy.

A sad smile sat on his lips at the memory of the one who wasn’t meant to be.

———

Love is cruel, isn’t it? How quickly it could deteriorate. The way it’s roots latch themselves onto your nerves and bleed when weeds begin to fester like a plague. It’s funny, really, how a taste can so closely resemble a feeling. He’d describe it as the bitter taste of burnt kuding tea carelessly brewed in loss and betrayal. Oh, how his pretty eyes now void themselves when he hears of love. A feeling he’ll never quite forget. That is because he met you, and it was after your betrayal, and only after your betrayal, that he felt the balances of his world no longer held any symmetry, for the world he lived in was now desolate and barren.

Reblogs and Interactions Are Appreciated!! ღ

#jay writes ! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆#🍯 :reqs #kny x reader #kny scenarios #kny angst #kny hcs #giyuu x reader #sanemi x reader #uzui x reader #tengen x reader #obanai x reader #iguro x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #hashira x reader #giyuu headcanons #demon slayer #kny imagines #sanemi angst #kny x y/n

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lazaruspiss · 9 months

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BREASTFEEDING GONE SEXUAL 👀👀👀👀

it sounds waaaaayyyy funnier than it actually is, and its a big multi chapter one. at first it was just "what if jaydick breastfeeding kink" but it ended up veering into dark fic pretty much immediately. content warning: domestic abuse, grooming, forced miscarriage, probably other stuff. idk man, this ones nasty

the outline is at 18 chapters but i havent gotten close to figuring out a conclusion so it would definitely end up longer. im trying to figure out how to describe it... omegaverse and mpreg, u could probably guess that from the title. bruce is so awful that even i feel like its branched into OOC territory? im bruces number one hater and even im looking at this plot like "hey now. thats a bit much."

starts out as brudick (very stockholm syndrome-y) but transitions it jaydick (codependent and weird. sibling, mother-puppy, generally unhealthy but in a mutually destructive way as opposed to just being abusive like brudick is in this) and i think (?) ends in a sort of. very traumatized household. idk i think killing everyone off might be easier than making them cope or whatever.

ueghhh why can i not understand my own notes. ok. no capes. alpha bruce, omega dick (15 at the beginning, 18 after a timeskip in the middle), and this pup bruce brings home in the hopes that itll distract dick from complaining about being pregnant. bruces pro gamer strat backfires but thats later. dick has baby dami bc whatever, i say it so thats how it is.

ohh wow. yeah i havent worked on this in a while. bruce kicking out a pregnant 18 y/o and a 14 y/o to fend for themselves is the /good/ timeline. i have too many notes to remember all this so ur getting my live reaction to rereading whatever the fuck past me was into.

okokok i thing im getting somewhere. first chunk is dick-jason-baby developing as a family while bruce is. hm. hes just a shitbag pretty much. plot pushing bad guy. timmy is also there, peeking his lil head above the fence kinda guy. jason turns out to be an alpha, bruce seems happy to now begin alpha father-son bonding activities and starts keeping him away from dick. blah blah sexism or whatever. bruce gets dick pregnant again, jason takes care of him like he did the first time dick was pregnant but bc hes an alpha now bruce gets pissy about it. jaydick happens, theres a bit of a choose ur own adventure at that point where bruce either throws them both out or uh. how do i put this. baby be gone? via violent and non doctor recommended method? yeah. and thats pretty much where past me got stuck.

#asks #jelly #fic asks

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fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty · 6 months

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- - - - - - - - -

i compiled angst abt TR + his sons because i. ... i got bored. and because it'll help me w/ writing angst when i have all of this in one spot.

im just posting it w/ a specific tag so i can find it when i need it kslkskd this post is also kinda long btw

TR himself - batshit insane

Okay so this mf has enough angst to fill. An entire. Like. Pool. But we'll start w/ the most known:

His wife & Mother dying on the same day just hours apart.

We all know how it goes but if you don't, his first wife, Alice Hathaway Lee, and his mother, Mittie Bulloch, died just hours apart on Valentine's Day, 1884.

And at the Funeral:

There's going to be... a lot more photos. The grieving is so intense I can't leave it out at all.

Doesn't this sound like an unhealthy coping mechanism? TR never really got the grip of coping healthily, but this isn't the earliest example, which I'll touch on soon.

It's beyond reasonable - and in fact correct - to assume he never entirely, fully got over Alice Lee. He never mentioned her again. Not on record, at least, and certainly not once in his autobiography. He mentioned his mother a handful of times at most. And this is where I say this part makes me feel nauseous because of how damn sad it is.

TR, as I said, never came to terms with Alice's death, and he never would. Over decades maybe he could handle a brief sorrowful thought of her, maybe a second. But I don't think anybody would be wrong in assuming he still could never truly talk of her. It sounds sad, but it's true. He never handled grief well.

I do think this is one of the periods of TR's life that you hear of but, never seeing it mentioned again, really enforces that he wanted her gone. He couldn't stand the thought of her. Which... do. Do you see the therapy that he desperately needed?

WELL if you thought this was it then you were wrong!!

His father died when he was nineteen. TR idolized his father beyond all else. He had a massive portrait of the man in his office and he always wondered what his father would do in times of strength during his presidency.

And TR admitting fear is a very, very rare thing, because you don't. Actually see it often. He'd be more likely to admit to a crime.

So for his father to die, and not being able to see him before (TR couldn't arrive in time), really, really left its mark on him. This was also around the time he had a spat with his then-close-friend, future-second-wife Edith in a small summer house. His father's death left him grieving and the argument left him. Well. Seething, for lack of a better word.

TR was actually able to acknowledge his father. That was the only difference.

But he also needed extreme help by the time Valentine's Day 1884 rolled around, and I am not alone in that thought.

I'd also like to mention that the argument I referenced above is never going to be explored beyond what is known: They argued, it was intense, and it ended any romantic prospects between them for years. Other than that? We have abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Nothing to go off of. Neither ever told anyone what they argued about. All Edith said was that Theodore 'wasn't very nice', and TR just said they both had tempers. Other than that once again? Nothing.

He also experiences even more grief later but we'll touch on that later.

TR almost lost Edith, as well, during 1898 when the Spanish-American war was ramping up to its climax of official war.

It did not get better. As you'll see, this was also when Ted was put under suffering, aswell.

*Cut because the rest is in Ted's section*

Even though it ended well, TR was likely getting flashbacks (or intense reminders) of what happened with Alice Lee just 14 years ago. And in those 14 years I'm very sure he wasn't fully done suppressing the memory. Being put under such strain twice doesn't do well on a person, nor their mental stability.

And now I'd like to mention: TR possibly having bipolar disorder.

Listen I'm not going to go in detail because I have before (probably, if not just send an ask that tumblr hopefully wont eat), but basically, traumatic experiences when he was so young, multiple injuries, almost dying countless times when he was young as he had asthma, and never truly coping, and honestly just naturally, he could have had Bipolar Disorder.

I find this theory interesting and it's very believable. He could be all over the place, smiling and ecstatic, swinging his limbs around, and then the next, quiet, gloomy. Suppressed. He never calmed down enough unless it was serious. Now, it could've just been his natural personality and behavior. But he was reckless, bold, daring, a risk-taker, and didn't ever really care about dying as much as he should have.

TR ignored his doctor basically telling him "DO NOT DO EXTREME SHIT. IT WILL HURT YOUR HEART. BADLY." and proceeded to be the goddamn president. Don't even mention climbing mountains and tough sports and putting himself under immense strain.

Hell I'd say it's worthy of a book (albeit short or not who knows), but there isn't one so far (as I know of) that focuses on that theory and goes in depth.

(But I do consider it a mild headcanon of mine for NATM purposes because I genuinely think it's something to consider, and hey, if you get memories, why wouldn't that pass over? Or I just like angst idk skkdnfgk)

Edith also suffered two miscarriages during the White House years, so the trauma of losing two unborn children must've hit pretty hard too.

i could go on even more about this sad meow meow bastard but lets move on. (Oh, the trauma I mentioned we'll touch on later, we will touch on near the end in Quentin's section.)

2. Ted // aka the one who was sort of forced to be the best

(also this mf was IMPOSSIBLE to search for. 'Ted' brought up words w/ -ted at the end and it took me so damn long to filter those results out)

This one below is in the White House. The two above are from 1898.

(the proudness is mildly concerning)

The 'nervous exhaustion' and migraines Ted ended up getting were because he was being pushed so hard at such a young age. I tried to find the book that had it (with no luck) but his mother admits that TR pushed Ted far more than the other children. Whether it was because Ted was his eldest son or his first or his namesake or all of the above I don't know, but after that pledge, TR doesn't seem as hard on Ted again in the rest of the Trilogy this lies in.

I also tried to find this next part with once again no luck. However I'll explain the best I can:

When Ted was in college, he got sick with a very violent case of pneumonia, to the point where he was put to bedrest. TR may've had a hard attitude to sickness but he came down to be by his son's bedside and the concern must have been intense. Ted's mother also came down and eventually Alice did too when she was allowed (they actually considered each other like siblings, probably some of the closest between the six with only a 3/2 year age difference). Ted did get better, but it was still worrying in the moment.

I can't find the copy (when I can I'll probably edit this post), but in another book, during WWI, Eleanor (Ted's wife, not FDR's, it's. It's confusing I know) confided in TR that Ted worried if his father was proud of him. TR was particularly surprised, but he told Eleanor that yes, of course he was proud of Ted. He called the war he fought in (Span-Am War) a bow and arrow affair compared to what Ted was fighting in -- a war with bombs and motherfucking aerophysics.

So in Ted you have the 'Heir who's really stressed' part of being a Victorian kid of someone who may or may not need lots of therapy and already have daddy issues (because he did. and i am right.)

OH!! FDR and Ted also had this weird rivalry and Ted basically disowned his ass and called him a maverick. Republican tings ykwim- FDR kept Ted's war moves from newspapers to stunt his cousin's political career (Which is a dick move), but even in the end, FDR presented the Medal of Honor to Ted's widow and admitted that TR would've been the proudest of Ted.

3. - Kermit: really sad guy

Okay Ted was fucking impossible to search for but Kermit is not thankfully

Kermit doesn't seem to be as ... optimistic or loud as the other kids, as you can tell.

*in reference to Harvard, where all four of the boys attended. FDR was also slighted for like the rest of his life bc he wasn't allowed in a club that Ted and Kermit got into lmao i just find that funny*

Kermit was also 'easy to bruise' and 'adored' by his mother but he was still... uh. Well. In short terms, traumatized as fuck and had PTSD that goes beyond any realm I've ever fucking seen.

(I WILL be writing fic for this)

I guess you could say it's sort of depressingly similar to TR and his own brother, Elliott, who also died an alcoholic and with multiple attempts of su!c!de. Kermit is the younger brother, Ted is the older. TR was the older, Elliott was the younger. Ykwim?

Basically if Kermit the Frog is memey and funny then this Not-Frog-Man is tragically the opposite and he also. Really. Really needed therapy isn't that a running theme at this point though-

4. Archie - mischievous. that's it

Not much I can find on Archie in an angsty way, which I think is actually good for my heart because the Edmund Morris TR Trilogy did not do wonders for my mental stability

The most prevalent thing I can find is this:

Archie--born in 1894--would be 15, so a 15 year old struggling for dear life and terrifying the shit out of his family. Doesn't sound good huh?

But!! Besides that Archie was the only American soldier to be disabled in BOTH World Wars (The three remaining sons (Quentin died in WWI as we know this) all fought in WWII. Fighting spirits indeed) and because of the SAME injury in the SAME leg. He was quieter but still mischievous and energetic, and he got along best w/ Quentin and they rarely quarreled. I will admit, I don't see much about Archie. Quentin obviously is well-spread around, Ted is aswell, Kermit partially, Alice fucking entirely. Ethel and Archie though, I dont see much of.

ALSO!!

*these two paragraphs follow each other, they're just on separate pages. the first paragraph follows into the next, so you can read it normally without missing anything.*

I forgot that Archie basically got really, really unhealthy during the War. His arm was worryingly limp and his leg was practically fucked. Not only that but he lost his closest brother in the war, so you can imagine how he felt.

5. Quentin - FAVORITE CHILD there i said it

okay. you want angst? like, a lot? this one. this boy is your ticket to sad depressive trains of thought.

Quentin was also the most like his father and very much a risk taker, so if he lived long enough, he very well could have had a very successful political career (or in whatever he chose to go into.).

However, Quentin's death was a lasting pain for TR (who died less than a year later) and it's said that Quentin's death not only hastened the then-late-50's year old man, but that TR died of heartbreak over his youngest's death. More angst after the pictures teehee

'He' is TR. He could be vaguely cryptic in matters of worry and family. Remember this

He paces when his brain is going a million miles an hour. I actually forgot this small detail but I'll have to use it sometime tbh

this part just makes me sad even though its almost been a year since i reread it like 20 times (more on that in a second.)

The silent grieving and absolute devastation seems far more powerful.

Now, getting specific:

Yes, it was said, as I may've already mentioned, that the boy in TR died when Quentin was devastatingly taken out on July 14th in the summer of 1918. He'd already suffered losing his father (his idol. this is where his own daddy issues come from) and losing his first wife AND mother (who he adored, too) in less than 12 hours. so now, to lose his youngest son, his boy, his child? Oh dear.

So combine the fact TR already needed lots of therapy and this new, heartbreaking death, and you've got one HELL of an angst supply.

It's worth remembering TR really just said 'fuck it. beat the memory until it's too dead to throb' and thought of it as a coping method.

... his 'method' is what we'd now call unhealthy. He thought it was so fucking fine that he even recommended it to a friend (or his sister? I forget tbh) who was just recently widowed. He was not taught healthy coping/healing methods and it showed. Strongly.

TR also felt tremendous guilt for his sons getting hurt (and one dying) in WWI. He'd always glorified war to himself and his kids and he'd instilled in them that a man is only a man once he's fought in battle. Well, no, that's not true. But in the Oyster Bay line of Roosevelts, you either fought in battle when you got the chance or you were a coward for denying it. Hell, take this quote from before Ted was even born:

And that is JUST on college games. What about war?

Of course, even if he didn't push his sons into WWI, they were bound to go in eventually. His sons all shared his glory-seeking and they would put themselves in harm's way just to get their father's attention sometimes, as I mentioned with Ted truly wondering if--even after fighting in a damn war, getting gassed, and shot, and nearly blinded, AND suffering almost a mental breakdown before he was even a teen--his father was proud of him.

So not only was Quentin's death enough guilt, his sons all got hurt in a war he not only pushed for in general, but he pushed for them to enter as soon as they could. Afterall, if he couldn't fight in the war at 58 with horrible health, then his younger and healthier sons could.

All in all they ALL needed therapy and there is a resounding amount of angst all around the entire family circle. If you read this I am very much sorry.

(I can also probably get the PDFs I used to search for these. I had the physical copies but those were library copies so uh. Not anymore. I can't find the other two books either so some parts WOULD have been pictures instead of text descriptions, but oh well.)

P.S i swear im not insane

#stupid! stuff! i! write!#absolutely NOT tagging their names #this took so long jfc #i had to hard restart my tablet like six times #it also WOULD NOT let me post so skkmkskdnfbk n #im so sorry for my shaky highlighting of certain things #long ass post #tw sui talk #tw death #tw alcohol #tw alcoholism #tw war #if you think i should add any TW's lmk #tw depressing stuff #tw miscarriage #briefly mentioned though #tw trauma

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this-should-do · 1 year

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OUGH the tags about the toxic love story, I NEED to see ur toxic Barney and Gordon PLEASEUH

bestie im afraid that i dont particularly have anyhting to show rn, most of it is just words in my head, at most i have the last drawings at teh end of this post that are in reference to a sequel to a story me n a friend are wanting to write lmao but yeah, i love mkaing shit up about characters that have littel to no development in canon

to sum up, barney has ISSUES from before the rescas that cause him to latch onto gordon BAD and he never quite fets over it during those 20 years becuz trauma really prevents you from processing shit especially when ur arney who just refuses to take the time to actually tink about his issues outside a horribly self demeaning and sabotaging way if he isnt actively repressing them, so tehn when gordon shows back up (with his own issues well talk about in a minute) he reignites a bunch of feelings barney had but they get buried under 20 years of resentment and dissillusionment as well as the feeling that are reignitied are twisted and fucked up by rosetinted lenses about who gordon was so when gordon shows up with his brand new issues as in from the last day of just the rescas plus the newer issues of hte past 5 minutes of being luanched into a future where everything is different frmo what he knows when he is a man of staticness and immutable reality tethering him to proper functiong, he just cant handle it so when he isnt acting like a machine to cope with war hes trying to act like things are the same as they were before and in his hurting lowkey tries to force others he knew (particulalry barney cuz they were very close before the rescas, though they had not reached a confession state yet) to act liek they did before without meaning to by way of only responding as a person would when they perform to standard, otherwise he tends to shut down mentally, always counting and documenting when things are different without meaning to int turn the way this behavior affects barney is that becuz barney is a guy who tends to force negative feelings down and always try to be funny while simultaneously keeping everyone at arms distance, forces himself to playthe role of himself 20 years ago to his own harm while constantly flipping between keeping gordon at arms length (which hits the counter gordon has for howt higns are different without him even realizing it becuz ona surface level barney is acting the same, leading to a faster breakdown of his part) and jealous possession of gordon and wanting to keep gorodn to himself becuz in his brain he knew and cared for gordon more than anyone else and that he was first and gordon is HIS friend and his person to love (this also sets of gordons counter in a different way becuz its still not quite how barney was before, but thats to be expected nobody can act as they were before perectly even someone as adept at pretending ot be anyone but himself as barney is) however by constantly trying to keep up the old him persona, he feels unloved as himself further cementing the idea that he ash to keep up the act otherwise gordon wont love or care for him which further spoils gordon in his own mind despite his unhealthy attachment to gordon who had been a piece of the past to hold close to himself for comfort over 20 years, making their relationship very muddy this is all of course ignoring the pain that preceeds a state where this dynamic would occur , meaning thetime during the games before a peace time, where 99% of the time gordon is locke dup nerneath his Freeman persona which upsets barney who has to deal with all the rough edges he forgot about plus more so he starts to resent gordon not just for in his eyes abandoning him but also for not being the same as he remembered, a similar but different struggle to gordon, which inturn causes barney to lean into this distant but casual persona we see in game, perceptively frineds enough that people can tell but no where near what you might expect someone who was such close frineds with someone who disappeared for 20 years might act

so essentailly they are contantly doign things unintentionally or not that hurt the other or make their own self hurt, or having an unhealthy attachment to the other lmao now i also have more about their relationship that develops in a story me and a friend are rying to pull together, but that part of it wouldnt happen for sosososoos long same for the stroy it self being published lmao, but just know that it relies on barneys obsession and selfishness and possessiveness over gordon and having to deal with someone else being close to him when he couldnt be there after losing gordon a 2nd time vis a vis epistle 3 shenangians

#sorry this took so fucking long to answer lmao #im just very dumb and got intimidated by how much it felt liek i needed to write #but i sat downto do it today cuz i forgor my drawing stylus at school so i wanted summin to do that didnt require me to turn on my computer #ponderingradioactivedecay #ask

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thecherrygod · 3 years

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#my posts #look. this is gonna be a #vent #so like. i dont really recommend anyone reads it really #but i dont think just. swallowing this is gonna be good for me bc i think im about to. idk. like i feel like shit so yeah #ok i think thats enough. if youre reading this you probably had to expand my tags. not forcing this into anyone so i can just. go on #. lately stuff has been. shit. i mean my mental health. im having trouble dealing with this. i guess i just need to properly break down but #i cant even just cry wether i want to or no. and man i want to usually like sometimes im going on about my day ans i just wanna cry #simply bc im alive and exist and have to keep living a life and im tired i guess. everything is tiring and i feel like im not living really #but you just keep going until you break right?so thats what i do i guess.trying to keep my shit together and not really sure if im. managing #and man i feel like im so close to start up on the unhealthy coping mechanisms idk how ive been avoiding it lmao #also apparently but not surprisingly the scent of burnt wood is a trigger for me! a new knowledge #having it means nothing tho! bc i cant stop people outside from stuff like that and not people at homd either but at home it shouldnt be #that often i guess but. but man i. guess what i mean is that i feel like when i went to the grocery store and felt that scent on the street #i just had to fight myself the entire time at the store to not get a lighter so i could burn some wood skewers i have in my room #and to then do that to myself. guess bad habits die hard. or dont die at all. but. fuck. i havent done that in. years.but now my chest hurts #anw my heart is beating too fast and im surprised im not exactly shaking but i feel. like shit. like i can usually handle feeling this bad #but everythings currently just.too much?and i dont really know what to do about it besides not allowing myself stuff like buying the lighter #ans like. i should feel proud i didnt do it right? but instead it just makes me feel.. worse. this is. stupid. and pathetic. man.#ugh yeah i guess this is it. i dont really feel better but idk what else to do about it so i guess thats it. i hope this is the last i post #about todays mental breakdown #lmao imagine being mentally stable. gonna go try to not think for a while or just check stuff online or whatever bye myself and this post

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notnctu · 4 years

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switchin’ lanes - l.jn | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, pwp???, fluff (if u squint) wordcount ➠ 8.3k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jeno, badboy!jeno, college!au, ━ where you and jeno are in a relationship, but not with each other. warnings ➠ explicit language, cheating, flirty banter, alcohol consumption, drugs, yall at a party, physical fighting (not with you), mentions of cuts/bruises, hickeys, drunk public dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f/receiving) synopsis ➠ If your boyfriend didn’t decide to join such a stupid unofficial club, then maybe you wouldn’t be in such a sticky situation where Lee Jeno is literally knuckles deep in your sticky situation as he drives you home. Or maybe if your boyfriend actually touched you, then you wouldn’t be seeking it from someone else, who can’t keep his hands off of you. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi ; @darkneogotmyback ; @im-lame-irl ; @p-mini ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck ; @saniahmichael ; @jaehy9ngs ; @danyxthirstae01 ; @jaehyunoos ; @pikijaemin ; @suhweo ; @dearlyminhyung

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! i hope you enjoy the series pls leave me feedback lmaoo ill literally take anything. we also hit a milestone for followers and honestly its so crazy to know how quickly this tiny sideblog has grown! we’re so thankful that yall follow us, thank u for lovin us and we will try our best to put out more content!! also through the lens hit 1k notes how is that even possible like wow im speechless thank u for everyone who left such kind comments i treasure every form of feedback :)

The heavy double doors of the classroom stare tauntingly at you. The evening setting in, painting the sky with strokes of orange and pink. You managed to remain complaint free the entire day, until your forgetful boyfriend canceled on you because of a club meeting. A meeting for an unofficial club on campus because it is illegal to street race. A club consists of delinquents that are obsessed with cars and steal your boyfriend away from you.

This is the fifth time this week that your boyfriend stood you up or coincidentally forgot your dates. You can’t remember the last time he physically stood in front of you and not through a phone screen. However, it is not completely the stupid club’s fault that your boyfriend has neglected you.

He truly is the worst boyfriend ever. He blames everything on his bad memory and does not prioritize you in his life. He loves one thing --- his car. You could be lying in a hospital bed, and he wouldn’t care to check up on you.

So why did you stay with him? Because you’re scared of being alone? Possibly, but it is a can of worms that you did not want to open just yet. Sex is definitely not the reason you stay with him. He hasn’t touched you sexually since the first and now, last time you two slept together.

You try your best, to only be waved off with a yawn. He doesn’t compliment you. He doesn’t look at you lovingly. He doesn’t even kiss you for longer than two seconds. You are a toppling tower, ready to crumble at any given moment.

The anger in your body fuels you as you pull the door open to reveal several men in leather jackets chatting away with each other. One by one, they all begin to lay their eyes on who abruptly interrupted their joyous conversations. Your eyes scan the room full of intimidating men, whose auras cause a shiver to run down your spine.

Your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, given that there are plenty enough guys who have the ability to cover him. You walk into the open space and the entire mood of the room shifts.

Heavy cologne and a deafening silence fill the air. One particular male, who has been eyeing you the entire time, gets up and walks towards you.

“Are you lost, baby?” Scoffs and chuckles sparsely cover the corners of the room. The unknown male has a jarring cut on his eyebrow, matching a small bruise on his upper cheekbone.

“I’m looking for my boyfriend…” Your weak voice trails off from the sudden attractive male intimidation. The tall man peers around the room, crossing his arms.

“If you are this beautiful woman’s boyfriend, please fucking come out now. It’s very rude to keep your girl waiting for you!” Initially, his low throaty shout startles you. A heavy heat falls on your cheeks when you register his choice of adjectives.

The whole room falls silent once more, before your pitiful boyfriend steps out from between two bulkier men. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?” His eyes nervously bounce around the room, a shaky laughter erupting from his gut.

“Sorry, Jeno. I didn’t mean to cause such a scene. I didn’t even see her come in.”

Like a trigger, you remember your intentions for storming in uninvited. Jeno gauges your flaming reaction to your boyfriend’s apologetic words. He nods, not out of acceptance of the apology, but out of disbelief.

He pulls your boyfriend by the collar of his white shirt and your eye widens at the condescending tone that causes your boyfriend to cower, “I’m not the one to apologize to.” With a careless toss, your boyfriend ends up shaking in front of you.

“Jeno is not the only one you should be scared of.” You whisper angrily to him as the rest of the room continues on with their previous chatter.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “listen, Jeno’s been arrested before. You don’t want to get on that man’s bad side.”

Your eyes wander behind your boyfriend’s hunching shoulders, catching Jeno steal peeks at you too. There is no interest in the other rambling male that stands in front of him. He just wants to check you out a bit more.

He is the hottest person you’ve ever gotten the attention of. You feel flustered, and a bit flattered at his lingering gaze. His brown hair is slicked back messily, giving you more to admire. Jeno is an absolute cliche from a bad boy fanfiction. He is unreal, and the odd chance that he can’t keep his eyes off of you, is also unreal.

But with a light nudge from a blue haired fellow, Jeno’s eyes peel away from your’s. They exchange a few words, which then propels Jeno to hurriedly put on his slightly tattered leather jacket.

You lick your lips to the sight of his body lines as he stands up to follow his friend, but not without another look back at you. Noticing your stare still on him, he bids you a tiny wave goodbye with a smirk to die for. And like that, he’s gone.

“Are you listening to me?” Your boyfriend’s voice finally reaches your reality. Your focus shifts to the obviously irritated expression on his face.

“I guess, I’m not. Don’t fucking stand me up again or I will key your car.” You aren’t actually those kinds of girls, but your boyfriend didn’t take a threat seriously unless it involves his highly treasured car.

And like Jeno, you also make your exit out of the steamy room. The chilly night brush against your unknowingly hot cheeks. Then, you take yourself to the only unhealthy coping mechanism you can think of: a place of free alcohol and no boyfriend.

It takes you a few months to completely stop caring about your dying relationship. You figure how easy it is for your boyfriend to do it, so you make the same decision.

He spends his nights with his friends he made from his club, and has totally become a self proclaimed car enthusiast. You lose yourself in copious amounts of cheap alcohol at your local parties and it’s almost like you stop sulking over a man who kisses his car goodnight.

While being alone did not bother you as much as you had been dreading, the sexual frustration is a completely different issue. You are absolutely drooling whenever your eyes find Jeno in the crowds of sweaty bodies.

If there is one good thing that came out of your boyfriend’s membership in that club, it had to be Lee Jeno and a few other notable people who attended the same parties as you.

He became a very close acquaintance, and you had learned some very important names associated with the Ridin’ Club. Na Jaemin, Lee Haechan, and Huang Renjun. But the three could not compare to the kindhearted Jeno that makes butterflies stir in your lower abdomen.

Over the months, you also had learned rather quickly that your sexually clouded mind had tricked you previously into thinking that Jeno’s stares were full of lust for you. His girlfriend makes it clear that it isn’t the case.

Although you have caught the couple making out several times when trying to use the bathroom, your feverish, impure attraction toward Jeno never calmed down.

“You’re looking very tempting tonight, baby.” Jeno’s beaming eye smile greets you, even after completely undressing you with his gaze. His arms are wide open to embrace your warm body.

The parties are always too hot to wear a fully clothed outfit. You often settle for a cute tank top and a short skirt to prevent your legs from collecting extra moisture. Jeno, without a fail, shows up in black jeans that clad his lower half, tucked with a simple white shirt. His tattoos and toned arms being on full display for you to admire.

“Better make sure your actual baby doesn’t hear that.” The loud beats of the music make Jeno’s chuckle almost inaudible, but his expression remains cheerful, as per usual. “Did you get into another fight?”

The fresh wound cut through his smooth complexion, which will eventually join the rest of his collection of fading scars. He mindlessly grazes over the new bandaging and dramatically winces. Clearly concerned, you grab his hand away from the injury. “Don’t touch it, stupid.”

His smile curves into a sly smirk, as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” His chest heaves into a fit of giggles, “just wanted to see you care for me.”

Groaning, you shake his massive hand off of your’s. “Very funny. I should start charging you for my attention.”

“Name your price, I got all the money in the world for you.” He winks, while lightly pinching your cheek. You are lying to yourself if you thought you could ever stay away from him. Jeno stirs up a part of you that craves the cheesy nicknames, flirty comments and the undivided attention.

He motions you to follow him into the mess of people. Almost as if he’s a god, the crowd parts for you two to walk through without unnecessary extra bodies. The fear that settles in many individuals’ chest is understandable.

Like your first impression, Jeno is a complete walking fanfiction trope. He negotiates better with his fists, usually with good reason. The guns of the Ridin’ Club, though, his friends are very much to be feared as well. They will not hesitate to run someone over, if given the heated situation to do so. And most definitely, you can count them to be backing up their fighter, Jeno.

You had not been mindful before of the chatter that regarded the secret Ridin’ Club. They are notorious for fast paced very illegal races in the middle of nowhere destinations and tempers that aren’t meant to be provoked. Besides their intimidating aura, it melts away after getting to know them.

Lee Haechan, the most annoying brat, but has the strongest, the most loyal bond to his boys. He’s also notably funny, often making you laugh with an exchange of banter.

Huang Renjun, the whiniest and initially quiet boy, but grows to be one of the loudest and will chew you out if anyone dares try engaging in verbal combat.

Na Jaemin, the flirty playboy who always has a swarm of girls, but the gentlest man with a soft spot for cute things.

And finally, Lee Jeno, the owner of your nights. He is the friendliest of them all, despite him being the toughest one. While his stare can kill, melting away his layers reveal the warmest heart. Not that Jeno is the only one to show initial interest in you, but he is the most considerate to the people he holds close to him.

He has taken care of you for many drunk nights and watched protectively over your intoxicated figure in the crowds. He makes you feel safe and seen, which are some of the many reasons you are entirely attracted to him.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin’s scream pierce your ears the moment the blueberry catches your eye. He excitedly nudges the other two boys, who are busy pouring drinks into red cups.

“You’re going to make me spill it, idiot!” Renjun grumbles, but looks up to see your dazzling smile and tremendous excitement. His own smile grows, “so the life of the party finally decided to say hi.”

“Hi, my fanclub. I appreciate the long awaited greeting.” Your over the top, sarcasm causes all of them to chime loudly. Haechan hands you a cup and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

Jeno joins you at your side and the five of you clink your drinks to the ceiling. A fit of yells over the music and a competition of who can finish first. As per usual, you set your cup down after draining the entirety. The others are still chugging the burning liquid down their throats.

Haechan coughs after dropping his cup onto the counter. His face is twisted with the most disgusted contour, “I don’t know how you do it, (Y/N).”

“I already drank more than you guys, so it just tastes like water now.” You scream over the loud music. Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun toss their empty cups into the sink.

At this rate, you are completely blindsided by the effects of the alcohol as your legs give out to gravity. Jeno catches you quickly, holding your elbows and your head is placed on his shoulder. Jaemin chuckles lovingly, before helping Jeno balance you against the island. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders, as the room spins in front of you.

“You good?” Haechan pats your head gently, whispering close to you.

“I---” You try catching your breath after being winded. “--It’s hitting me now.”

Jeno wraps his arm around your lower waist to draw you close to him, “want to go sit down?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod, Jeno and Renjun supporting your limp body to walk over to the couch.

The dark living room is lit up only by colorful led lights, but it is not enough to make out much of anything. Everyone is in their own world, dancing and socializing within their own selves. The two men set you down on the cushion, but your impulse catches onto Jeno’s wrist before he leaves. Renjun is already lost in the crowd.

“Can I sit on your lap?” You pout cutely, all the shame in your body has been displaced with courage. Jeno’s eyes soften at your sudden request, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“The throne is all yours.” He says as he sits at your side and pulls you on top of his thick thighs. His arm is loosely dangling around your waist, resting on top of your thighs.

The intimate position causes your mind to wander into dark thoughts. His strong, sturdy legs feel delicious against your clothed core. While you’ve been in this position once before, you could never forget how protected, yet very horny it makes you feel.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Jeno’s deep voice brushes against your bare shoulder and you feel his chest press against your back. “You’ve been pretty silent tonight.”

You turn slightly to face him, “if I told you, I’m scared it would ruin things between us.”

“There’s nothing in the world that can hold me back from you.” He is always so quick to spill such alluring words. His soft lips graze lightly on your skin as his sparkling eyes look up at your expression.

All it takes is one more tiny kiss on your arm to get you grabbing his face, drawing him into a steamy, long awaited kiss. Surprisingly, he kisses you back, open mouth and tongue lapping with your’s. His hands reposition your legs to where you straddle him. Your faces dive deeper into each other’s as the kiss continues to intensify.

Jeno’s lips still have a hint of alcohol, but he mostly tastes like mint gum. And they are comparable to a cloud, the softest lips you have ever made out with. It is like kissing pure heaven, completely different from your boyfriend’s two second pecks. Jeno devours you in a needy way, like he’s been waiting to explore the wonders of your lips.

However, you pull away when you feel the vibration of his phone against your inner thigh, almost like a wake up call. As if all the liquid courage disappeared, you blink back in shock at Jeno’s plump wet lips. The thought of his girlfriend crosses your mind, and maybe slight guilt for your own boyfriend fills your system.

You quickly start getting up from his hot body, “fuck, I’m so sorry..” But his hands pull you back onto him, your legs finding their way open above his thighs again.

“Don’t be, I’ve always wondered what your lips would taste like.” A smirk, then a hearty chuckle relaxes your contracting nerves at the potential of a ruined friendship.

“But, your girlfriend..” Your tiny voice trails off and Jeno picks up your chin. His fingers rubbing along your jawline.

His eyes do another lap around your features. He admires your averting shy eyes, your beautiful lips, and how they all come together to make a stunning you.

There is no doubt in Jeno’s mind that he is very attracted to you. He knew it the moment you barged into the club meeting. You are his type of woman, a good mixture of confident and timidness. You like to have some fun, and aren't afraid to be bold. Not to mention, that you are incredibly hot and every time you flirt back just makes him melt inside.

“She won’t care. She hooks up with people all the time.” It puzzles you, all this time you had been holding yourself back from Jeno because he has a girlfriend. All to find out that the relationship isn’t as serious as you thought it to be.

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. But we aren’t two people to be tied down, but at the same time, we like each other enough to want to stay together.”

Your confused expression causes Jeno to laugh and ask, “what’s the dilemma with your boyfriend?”

Rolling your eyes at the mention of your boyfriend, you sigh, “it’s like we’re still together, but we aren’t at the same time. We’ve abandoned the relationship unknowingly.”

Jeno runs a warm hand up and down your thigh, while he listens intently to you. He nods, grabbing your waist to pull you over his groin. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No, he’s a shitty person and an even shittier boyfriend. We literally haven’t fucked for the past year. I’m practically a virgin again.” His hand automatically gives your thigh a light squeeze.

Jeno’s eyes light up as you quickly cover your mouth out of embarrassment. A devilish smirk raises his cheekbone, and lust clouds his mind. Gauging his reaction, your cheeks turn hot.

“We’ll have to change that, don’t we? My baby must be all kinds of frustrated. Tell me, do you like when I touch you then?” Jeno drops in tempo, usually when he wants to be more intimidating with a deeper voice.

You clear your throat intending to speak, but you can only nod your head in response. “C’mon, (Y/N). Use your words, like a big girl.” Even with the loud music and continuous chatter, you can hear Jeno‘s taunting whisper.

His words tickle your collarbone as he runs his lips against your neck. Your heart is pumping rapidly at the turn of events, as if the possibility of having something beyond a kiss from Jeno is more than possible at this rate.

Jeno enjoys your small whimpers as he marks your neck with purple love bites. Right in the center of the crowded room, Lee Jeno is just casually giving you hickeys.

“Yes, I love that you can’t keep your hands off of me.”

Almost immediately, you can feel his lips curve into a smile on your skin. Pop! Jeno marvels the darkness against your skin in the mood lighting. A small part of him hopes you do end up seeing your boyfriend sometime soon, so he can see who you really belong to.

“How about we try touching like this?” Jeno pushes you down hard against his pelvis, the veins on his hands becoming evident from the grip and the tiny drawings permanently staining his fingers.

You gasp the moment you feel Jeno’s hip begin to move underneath you to the beat of the song. He rolls your hips rhythmically to match his speed. His clothed hard on can be felt through the only barrier you have on --- your panties.

The thin fabric is soon drenched in your juices after the continuous friction up and down his length. You throw your head back to every bump against your clit, the electrifying feeling enact more of your wetness to puddle.

You can’t believe you were grinding against Jeno in the middle of a full party, as if his friends aren’t a few feet away. It is a good thing that your skirt pools around both of your waists to conceal the dirty deed underneath.

Jeno’s lip escapes under his top row of teeth as he rubs his clothed length against your barely covered pussy. He can feel his jeans dampening from your wetness and his eyes roll to the back of his head from how the feeling of wanting you consumes his body. He really becomes uncontrollable when it comes to you.

This is the most sexual activity you have had with another person for over a year. Jeno just looks absolutely heavenly intoxicated with lust, and your mouth waters at how big his cock must be. You can feel his length the harder Jeno rolls against you, and it is definitely bigger than your boyfriend’s.

You are trying so hard to stay quiet and unnoticeable, but the pleasure seeps out every crevice. Jeno is trained on you as your hand reaches up to cover your mouth, the muffled whimpers escaping your lips uncontrollably.

“I’m so close.” You admit, your body jolting every time his jean button grazes against your sensitive bud.

Jeno moves you over his thigh, forgetting his incredibly hard dick straining in his jeans. As long as you are satisfied, he can care less about his own pleasure. A low scream erupts from your throat when he flexes against you.

His thigh is much more stable, with more control for consistency. You quickly notice the dark, wet spot on his jeans and you blush even harder. Your underwear clings onto you from the excessive moisture, but Jeno continues to help you finish.

The strands of hair cover your face, but Jeno needs to see your fucked out expression. He is taken aback when you start riding his thigh faster, grinding harder without the aid of his hands.

His mouth hangs slightly open in awe at your neediness, he truly did not know the extent of your sexual frustrations. Oh, but how he is incredibly turned on by you getting off on him.

“I want you to cum for me, you deserve it.” Jeno brings you in for another passionate kiss. The mixture of his tongue sucking harshly on yours, and the friction on your clit are more than enough to reach your climax.

Your legs clenched tightly around Jeno’s thigh. The small knot in your stomach that built, drops like the beat playing in the background. The feeling of white is familiar, but it is more intense than when you would touch yourself. You are finally receiving the pleasure from someone else’s touch, someone who wants you to unravel for him.

Jeno pulls away from your lips, kissing down your neck and collarbones as your chest heaves for air. His palm soothes your shaking legs as your climax subsides. You fall into his arms, and he laughs. The reality that you two just did that publicly registers in both of your minds.

Digging your shy face further into Jeno’s shoulder, he whispers lovingly, “let me drive you home.”

“Are you still drunk?” The muffled question tickles Jeno’s neck.

“I think you beautifully cumming on my thigh sobered me up.” He jokes and you quickly cover his mouth. Your heart practically stops and you hope no one else heard him.

It is silly that you are now self conscious, as if the whole room didn’t just watch you and Jeno grind on the couch. But, the feeling of embarrassment and regret lingers in your stomach. You mentally thank the dark room for concealing both of your identities.

“I’m sorry for your jeans.” A pout begs for forgiveness as you stare at Jeno’s beaming smile. He takes your hand off of his mouth, not forgetting to give your fingertips a lingering kiss.

“I’m sorry for your boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Jeno parts your hair from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. A small sense of pride builds inside of him, accompanied by a tiny bundle of possessiveness.

“Let me say goodbye to the boys and I’ll take you home.”

Nodding, Jeno carefully lifts you off of him and onto the cushion. He leans over to kiss your cheek. As he gets up, you see the darker shades on his jeans from your doing. However, Jeno is completely unbothered and continues to find his friends.

Now that you are alone, you feel a bit nervous that someone would come up to you and talk about what they saw. Checking your phone, your screen blinds you with absolutely no notifications from your boyfriend. Going on social media is worse, as you scroll to see that your boyfriend posted a photo.

It is a photo of his hot, red polished car. He obnoxiously posed squatting next to the front wheel, his lips puckered up and kissing the rims. With a caption that makes every regret in your body disappear, “with my one and only.”

The phone is tossed somewhere else, wishing to delete the image from your memory. Your eyes wander around the room, when they spot a suspicious man sneakily dropping a small pill in an unattended drink. He, then, looks up and catches your stare. Caught red handed.

But the male smugly smirks, “you’re going to pretend you didn’t see that, like how half of this room pretended to not see you grinding on Jeno.”

“You’re complete scum, I can’t believe you just roofied someone’s drink.” You yell in utter disbelief at the unwavering man. His disgusting smirk changes into a menacing smile.

He approaches you, his height allowing him to tower above. You gulp, scared at how he can easily overpower you at any second.

“And what are you going to do about it? What? Jeno didn’t loosen you up enough?” His revolting hot breath beating down your nose, invading every corner of your personal space.

Before you can find any insult to speak back, his figure goes flying sideways and out of your face. It’d be a lie to not admit your heart skipping a beat at the sight of Jeno’s clenched fists and locked jaw. His sharp gaze watches as the stranger gets up from the ground, inflammation already growing on his left cheek.

“Dude, what the fuck!” He shouts angrily, holding his cheekbone as he winces at the pain. Immediately, the conversations are replaced with gasps, and small whispers at the sight. People gather around the living room to see the commotion. Even you are unsure how to react to the sudden fight.

The other man lunges at Jeno with full force, but Jeno stops him by grabbing the man’s collar, “this,” Jeno punches his lip, busting it open, “is for dropping a roofie in someone’s drink.”

The stranger groans at the impact, but still gets up with a fist straight for Jeno’s gut. Watching Jeno take a blow is much more difficult than you had been expecting.

He crouches over from the punch, but quickly regains his composure to put the man in a headlock. A few more gasps erupt and wonder if you should stop him before he does something unnecessarily stupid.

“This,” the man squirms to try to get out of Jeno’s iron grip, “is for disrespecting my babygirl.” And with a shift snap, the male falls limp and unconscious.

A surprised intake of air and Jeno peers up at your scared expression. He calmly walks over to you, ignoring the swarm of people that had gathered around the scene. He can only see one thing — you. Jeno’s wandering eyes try to read your expression, but all he sees is a terrified girl.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Blinking blankly for a few moments, you are mortified at the laying body, “what did you do to him?”

Jeno looks back at the stranger casually, “I put him to sleep for a bit. He’ll wake up in about 20 minutes.”

A rush of reassurance washes over you knowing that he is alive and Jeno didn’t just kill someone in front of you. You exhale all the anxiousness and nerves,

“thank you for stepping in.”

“I don’t fight without a good reason. You are more than a perfect reason to fight for.” He pinches your cheek cutely, and his tough exterior fades away yet again.

His famous eye smile that warms your insides is back as if the scary, intimidating expression didn’t exist a few seconds ago. Jeno’s good sides only appear with you. Nevertheless, you are happy to know how special you are to see them.

“Violence is never the answer.” He nods, only taking it for a grain of salt. “Are you okay? It looked like stringbean knocked some wind out of your gut.”

The teddy bear thrusts himself forward into a fit of laughter, his head resting on your lap. His melody lights every dark corner inside of you. “He did get a good punch in there, didn’t he?”

His rumbling laughter stops, and he peers up at you. “I can’t believe you were still worried about a complete asshole.”

Scoffing, you break the shared gaze. “I’m a compassionate human being.” Jeno stands up, extending his hand for you to take.

“I know, you’re the best kind of person.” He genuinely means it with the way his tone remains quite stern, eye contact unwavering. He is revealing more of his intimate parts, and in return, you wish for him to see your’s.

Silence drowns out all the commotion between you two. Jeno grows shy at the way the galaxies reflect in your stare. “I--” Never once, did you think you would witness Lee Jeno stammer over his words. “I-I, let’s-- I want to take you for a drive.”

To Jeno, a drive to him is equivalent to your hand in marriage. Even his own girlfriend has never been on a drive with him. It is a big part of his personality, given that he is a crucial member of the Ridin’ Club. However, out of all of them, he is the last one to flaunt his hobby. It is special, almost sacred to his entire being.

“Me?” It is the dumbest question to ask, but you really want to clarify his intentions. Before this night, you two were barely considered friends. You two never saw each other outside of the late night parties.

But now, Lee Jeno wants to take you on a drive. It makes you wonder if the desire of companionship is mutual, that he too pines to further your relationship.

“I’m not looking at anyone else,” Jeno still waiting for your hand and holding an intense eye contact. His heart lays exposed for you, just right on his sleeve. An innocence paints his usual intimidating aura, “let me show my special girl, what is special to me.”

He must possess some magic because he knows every way to make you swoon. And like that, your palm meets his and he locks his fingers between yours.

The moment you enter Jeno’s striking, eye catching car, you automatically relax into the leather seats. His pristine car matches his personality --- simple, but captivating. Your boyfriend’s car is the exact opposite, which is why you never enjoy sitting in it.

Jeno has pieces of himself that scatter his car, like an adorable small plushie that watches out the back window. A beaded lanyard dangles from his rear view mirror. It even matches his scent of a deep ocean breeze.

Unlike your boyfriend’s obnoxious details, Jeno did not have a light up stereo that flashed annoyingly to every beat drop in a song. Instead, a sweet lilac color illuminates at your feet, along with his.

“You like what you see?” Jeno catches you astonish at the tiny aspects of the interior.

“Of course, it’s yours. It’s exactly like how I would imagine it to be.” Jeno is proud, hearing you praise his car. Even he can admit, it is a bit weird to be so connected to an inanimate object.

Nevertheless, his car, racing, driving became a huge part of his life. And unlike his friends, he feels rather shy and slightly embarrassed for being such a geek.

But hearing you actually appreciating the small details of his car when you probably hate every aspect of racing due to your boyfriend’s doing, it makes him feel very happy.

Maybe happy is an understatement, more like overjoy at how you freely can recognize the things that make him content. You respect him, and are mindful that as mundane as a car is, you know that it is something important to him.

Silence becomes the majority of the ride out of the quiet, suburban neighborhood. While Jeno’s eyes remain focused on the road ahead, you are concentrated on him.

He drives with one hand on the wheel as he rests his elbow on the middle console. His eyebrow creases here and there. It is the most normal, mundane activity anyone can do --- drive. That is all he is doing, yet the effect it suddenly has on you can not go unnoticed.

Abruptly, with the rev of the engine and a press on the gas, the car practically flies on the empty freeway. It catches you off guard, causing you to hold onto the grab handle. Jeno peeks over at your shocked figure, and smiles to himself.

“Relax, (Y/N).” He calls your name, reaching over to rub your thigh as a way to calm your anxiousness. Automatically, your hand grips onto his for support and the other one drops from the handle.

Exhaling, your eyes are trained ahead. The car is moving so fast that you can’t even make out anything around you. Everything becomes nothing, but colorful streaks against a dark background. The gravity against your chest feels crushing.

“How-- How fast are you going?”

Jeno glances at the speedometer and intertwines your fingers into his own. “I don’t think I should tell you that, you might actually have a heart attack.”

The window rolls down and you are hit with rumbling wind, “I know you’re scared right now, so stick your head out the window and take a deep breath.”

You look at him in pure fear, “what?! I can’t even move, let alone stick my head out the window!”

Jeno shakes his head, “trust me. Please, trust me.” He needs you to experience the same thrill he does. His own adrenaline is through the roof, out the entire atmosphere of the vehicle. The amount of joy he is experiencing became tenfold now that you are sitting beside him.

You trust him and very meticulously, go against the wind. Your hair crazily dances along with the rush and your eyes water from being dried out. Adjusting to the pressure, you also stick your hand out the window. It whips backward, but you feel the wind slip between your fingers.

The rise in heartbeat and excitement pump through your veins. The beauty in the white streaks that create a runway, it is nothing but you and the open space. There is no other way to explore it, except at a high pace. You understand why Jeno loved it so much.

Jeno bounces between the road and half of your figure out his window. Your eyes are closed initially, before you barely squint open. Tears fly by with strands of your hair, but you start to move your hand to physically feel the thrill pass between your fingers.

Then he sees it in the side mirror: the sweet curve in your lips he loves the most and the wideness of life in your eyes. It only makes him press the gas harder.

“That was incredible! You should take me riding with you more.” You marvel at him as he starts the route to your place. It is complete playfulness that hints in your tone because you are aware of how sacred these are to him. Nevertheless, a part of you still hopes he agrees to do so.

Jeno nods, “only because I like you,” He pauses, gauging your reaction with his side eye gaze, “a lot.”

Your heart sinks to an unsettling place in your stomach. Jeno could not possibly be serious, however, his tone no longer matches the playfulness of your own. It almost seems like he is telling the truth. But you didn’t want to believe that.

Your eyes make a full circle before settling at the disappearing sidewalks, “stay in your lane, Jeno.” It is to keep the mood still light, you and Jeno aren’t ones to be serious.

His hand has been on your thigh for the whole night, whether it be out of habit or comfort. His touch is always welcoming and warm, but suddenly, you feel the small squeeze on your flesh. Turning your attention on his face, you can see how a smirk has grown.

“But yours seems much more fun.” Immediately, your stomach leaps with somersaults. Your throat gets dry and tight, not anticipating that response.

“Beside, you can’t act like we both haven’t swerved. It was barely moments ago that you were cum---”

“---No need to further explain.”

“And I’d proudly do it again.” His voice drops several decibels and his hand slowly snakes it’s way up your thigh. All the while, his eyes still on the road ahead.

You gulp as every heartbeat constricts your throat. Lifting the ends of your skirt higher to expose more, you secretly want Jeno to cause your legs to shake again. “D-Do what again?”

Jeno perks up to the sweetness of curiosity in your tone. He pulls up to a red stoplight, being able to finally look over to your innocent face and needy hands gripping the cute, thin fabric. He stares deeply into your eyes, “make my baby cum.”

Similarly to the stoplight, you give Jeno the green light to pull your panties to the side. You spread your legs wide as his finger massages your pussy lips. He gets dangerously close to your erect clit, barely skimming over it.

A needy, yet delicate moan escapes your lips and Jeno’s jaw tightens. He’s more upset that he’s missing the view of your legs spread, open mouth in ecstasy, half lid eyes all in the passenger seat of his car. He hopes for another red light, just so he can peek over at your delicious figure.

“Jeno, please touch me.” Your voice is airy and desperate. He hummed in response, completely withdrawing his hand from your core. However, you catch his wrist and bring it to rest on your inner thigh. “Please.”

The distinct beg in your tone drives him crazy. As he dips his finger into your sudden wetness, a shiver runs up your spine. Right when he applies minimal pressure on your bundle of nerves, you jolt and close your thighs around his hand.

One touch already feels too good to be true, that finally someone, Lee fucking Jeno, is actually touching your nakedness. Peering down, Jeno’s arm is flexing in between your legs. His veins popping ever so slightly and his tattoos paint his smooth skin.

“Open your legs, babe.” His low devilish chuckle rumbles in your lower abdomen. “Let me give you the lovin’ you’ve been deprived of.”

You shudder at his cadence and slowly pry open your legs. Jeno stops at a red light and gets to see your reaction as he rubs you in a fast rhythmic pace. A soft cry yelps from your throat and you have to grip the handle to keep yourself from spazzing out any further.

Almost like a trance, he doesn’t notice that the light turns green. He’s locked into the sight of your contorting body. Your hips have a mind of its own, yet again, as Jeno feels you rolling deeper into his touch.

“Poor baby, you’re so touch starved that you can’t control yourself.”

“It feels better when you do it.” You whine, your lip being bruised from your biting. But your eyes notice the green illumination and you blink over at Jeno.

He is practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes are trained at your needy hips and dripping wet core that soaks his fingers. You stop every urge to steal more kisses from him.

Jeno briefly recovers from the trance and steps on the gas. He takes this opportunity to ease a finger into the core, causing you to exclaim and squeeze around his digit. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight.”

“More, Jeno.” The way his name rolls off of your tongue makes his heart flutter and his dick to raise in his jeans. Without much hesitation, he slowly slips in another finger and you moan at the stretch. Pumping and curling, he ensures that you are enjoying every action.

His fingers curl against your plushy flesh and your legs spread wider for him to go deeper. You’re a moaning mess when he curls up to your sweet spot, rubbing his fingertips quickly. The familiar queasy feeling builds in your lower regions, and Jeno becomes merciless with his fingers.

He guides them in and out of you, feeling your tightness release and invite him back in. The sloppy wet noises fill the car and drown out the engine. Your half lidded eyes bounce at Jeno’s unbothered figure and the entire scene seems absolutely unbelievable to you.

One hand on the wheel. The other knuckles deep in your pussy. Eyes focus on the road ahead. A comfortable man spread. His hair is messy from the long night.

It is all too unbelievable, that Jeno’s already giving you a second climax of the night when you could barely get one in a year before. And he loves touching you as much as he loves driving.

However, the guilty raises as fast as the ball of tension in your gut. You two pull up in front of your apartment building, while Jeno’s tugging his fingers against your flesh aggressively. In a split second, you hold onto his wrist to stop him.

He shifts into park when the car settles into a spot and peers over to you. A curious expression daunts onto him, rather concern that he might have been too much. “I’m starting to feel guilty.”

Jeno nods, and retrieves his fingers out of your dripping core. The feeling of emptiness causes all the built up pressure to dissipate.

“I understand,” he begins, but pauses at the sight of your sticky juices glistening on his fingers. Your eyes widen as he licks them clean, a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat.

The small action spikes your heart rate and you rub your legs together. With a pop! Jeno hums delightfully, “baby, you taste so good. I’m a little sad I won’t be tasting more, especially directly from the source.” His lustful eyes glance down at your thighs and back to your profile.

“I’ll walk you up to your apartment.” He says way too casually, unbuckling his seat belt. A mixture of emotions are running through your head. There is guilt, but lust is too powerful to ignore, especially when it’s Lee Jeno. The damage is already done, right? It’s not like it wasn’t moments ago that you humped him in the middle of a party.

“Wait,” your hands find themselves gripping onto his leather jacket tightly. Jeno gently reaches over to release your strong grip and replaces the leather with his hand.

“Yes, babygirl?” Jeno’s round, friendly eyes meet yours. The lust clouded darkness is no longer there. His hand feels hot and somewhat rough.

“I’m going to break up with my boyfriend, so promise me, you’re not going to dip out of my life afterwards… I don’t need you to be anything more than a friend. I just can’t lose you too.”

He turns around in his seat to face you comfortably. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I can’t stay away from you, let alone have the ability to leave you.” He reassures you with a soothing and calm tone. His thumb draws circles around your knuckles. “I’m always going to be your friend, whether or not I know how you taste.”

“Do you still want to try it … you know, from the source?” You shyly ask, an innocence embodying your gaze and voice cadence.

Jeno raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “I’d love to, only if you let me.”

Instantly, you shift to get on your lower back. Jeno watches as you excitedly position yourself open for him and actually finds your eagerness quite adorable. Your left leg bends behind the driver’s seat and your right rests on the dashboard.

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you forward towards him and your whole body slides against the leather. With a slow lift, your skirt reveals your drenched panties. Rolling them off and tossing them to the back seat, he lays eyes on your still dripping pussy. Jeno takes a second to admire your flower, this being his first time he’s seen such a private part of you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” He chuckles deeply, before his tongue licks a long strip up to your clit. You exclaim out of the tingling pleasure that seized your insides.

He flattens his tongue against your bundle of nerves, flicking and circling. His finger enters your pussy again, curling up to rub at the same pace he is licking. The pure sight of Jeno’s head in between your legs is enough for butterflies to explode.

His sole motive is to make you feel good. There is nothing else in the world that he wants at this moment beside pleasure to overtake your body. Jeno eats you out like he hasn’t had a meal in months. His mouth wraps around your clit. The mixture of his flicks and sucks cause electric bolts to run down your legs.

You get more wet as Jeno pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your juices are practically dripping onto the interior of the car, but Jeno doesn’t care.

He fucking loves it. He loves the taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your breathless moans. Your waterfall dripping on uncontrollably. The view of you unwinding because of him. Nothing can be more perfect.

Running your hands through his messy locks, you press him closer into you. A devilish smile draws on his face as he flicks his tongue side to side. “Oh, fuck! I’m.. so c--close.”

Your back arches upward into Jeno’s mouth, feeling his muscle lick harder and faster on your throbbing clit. He adds a second finger, and the simultaneous stimulation practically throws you into another dimension. The pleasure overtakes your entire lower half, your legs trembling from pure ecstasy as you approach your orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m going to---” Then, Jeno pulls away and shoves his tongue into your warmth. A gasp hits the air as he also continues to rub circles on your sensitive nerves. His tongue fucked your pussy incredibly skillfully and deliciously. With this switch, your legs violently shake and try clamping together.

However, his strength holds you wide and open for display. A low grunt follows suit as his dark eyes zone in on your contoured facial expressions. Then, the white light blind you once again and the ball of tension unravels itself on Jeno’s tongue. Squirming and screaming, your hips buck forward on their own.

It is close to being too catastrophic, this being the most intense orgasm you’ve had after a whole year. Nevertheless, the satisfaction is right on the tips of your toes and you greedily indulge in the euphoric moment. Jeno feels your walls squeeze around his muscle as he laps every last bit of you up.

He is absolutely addicted to your juices, making sure he catches every drop. Finally pulling away, he wipes the extra drip on the back of his hand. Jeno blinks at your raising chest and limp legs. Chuckling, his warm hand massages feeling back into your body.

“Do you want me to carry you back up?” His hoarse, raspy voice wakes you from your post orgasm daydream. You flutter your lashes at him fondly and happily nod at his offer.

Getting out of the car, Jeno walks over to the passenger side and your arms rest nicely around his neck. His palms support your butt, but also smoothing your skirt over to cover your decency. A poke against your outer thigh makes you realize that Jeno is strained against his jeans.

“I can take care of you too.” You pout cutely at Jeno, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not about me tonight. It’s about you.” Leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, his eyes turn into moon crescents from his lovable smile. The kind, friendliness makes an appearance again.

Or so you think! In a sheer second, Jeno’s deep voice rumbles your stomach and his hooded eyes pierce your soul, “next time though, I’m fucking you real good, babe.”

You hum in response. Saliva collects in your mouth, already looking forward to more of Jeno. But a chilly draft brushes up your exposed area as Jeno carries you up the flight of stairs.

“Wait, Jeno… I don’t have my underwear on.” The ‘Level 3’ sign is in view as Jeno turns to walk.

He only laughs and shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s better that way anyways.” Without another word, he continues upward to your floor and you playfully punch his solid chest. In all honesty, that’s not going to be the only time you leave behind your panties in his beloved car.

Your hatred for the notorious Ridin’ Club subside after such a wild night. If anything, you owe it all to your shitty ex-boyfriend for joining such a ridiculous club. Without him and the club’s existence, who knows if Lee Jeno would’ve still swerve into your lane.

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saltwatersweetner · 3 years

Text

End Me

Eren x Reader

A Prequel of Sorts. Eren never fought for control preferring the security of your hold on him but you could never fully domesticate a wild animal it seemed.

Part 1 Part 3

CW: Manipulation, Toxic Relationship, Attempted Murder, Unhealthy coping mechanisms all in all mildly unsettling themes.

Eren knew how to be good—painfully so. He also knew how to be bad—concerningly so. He was a creature of habit. He did whatever he decided was best for him at the moment and maybe thats what lead you to your current stare down.

“Eren I said move.”

“Fuck what you said.”

Frowning you tried to think what honestly could have brought this mood upon him. It couldn’t have been because you were going out he always understood your random need to socialize. You also can’t remember purposefully setting him off, not in the mood and you weren’t completely cruel to ignore his random—even for him mood change—more in tune to your partners mood swings and emotions than you were to you own.

Carefully reaching out for him you raise an eyebrow when he moves away from your—for now—gentle touch “Are you really upset or just being a brat?”

“Stop talking to me.”

Huffing you choose to ignore his attitude and slip your coat over your shoulders just in time for a knock to be heard from the front door. With Eren on your heels you open the door for your friend.

“Y/N I called but you didn’t answer so I just came up.”

You get a flashback of Eren throwing a tantrum not even 30 minutes ago and launching your device from you 6th floor apartment “Yeah I dropped my phone off the balcony but lets go—Eren be good.”

His glare turns even more deadly when Reiner politely wraps an arm around your shoulders. Closing the door behind you Reiner laughs into the quiet hall “Be good? What is he your dog?”

“Something like that.”

Reiner was a friend an attractive one at that and Eren didn’t like it at all. He hated anyone that was even remotely close to you because you already didn’t like anyone but with Reiner it was different. You let him touch you and hold you.

Eren hated it, he hated it so much—and to make matters worse you didn’t care about his feelings—not one bit.

After a night of bar hopping and watching Bertholdt make a fool of himself in front of Annie, Reiner once again brought you home.

“It was nice seeing you, without your guard dog.” The face he made at the thought of Eren wasn’t a nice one.

“Aw sweetheart don’t be mean.” Reaching up you hold his warm cheek in your slightly chilled hand.

You knew jealousy when you saw it, could detect the slightest change of emotion when it was presented to you. He leans into your hold like a cat seeking out affection—much different than Eren’s wild way of seeking you out.

“Don’t be jealous my dear use your words.”

Reiners face was slowly moving closer to yours and you smirk in amusement. It would seem you had a knack for catching the attention for boys who were looking to be controlled.

“Y/N....”

Your door swings open before Reiner can kiss you and Eren is looking beyond livid. Reiner freezes his fight or flight telling him to run but you keep him steady with your palm.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Eren’s nod is slow and deliberate his eyes still glaring at the nonexistent space between you and the blond.

“Then that ends our time together, goodnight Reiner.” He shivers in what you think is glee from the acknowledgment of the time you spent with him.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t acknowledge Eren any longer and hurries out to the elevator.

Turning back to the aforementioned boy you make a motion with your wrist “Move.”

When he eventually does get out of your way your hyper aware of the way he sticks to you almost like glue. Throwing your coat over the back of your couch you stretch and lead him to the kitchen.

“You hungry? All I’ve done is drink tonight I could really eat—“

He swings you into the wall by the neck. The alcohol in your system made it incredibly difficult to feel the pain you knew was blossoming up your back so all you could do was stare at the man before you.

You saw the endless sea of madness that unlike you he didn’t bother to cover up. Everyone found the look endearing on him like he never left that childishness behind but you knew the truth.

You could slowly feel yourself starting to suffocate. You didn’t bother panicking because as it had it Eren had all the power right now. If he or you moved the wrong way your neck was as good as snapped.

“Why did you let him touch you?”

Putting a calm hand on his wrist you try and fail to alleviate some of the pressure being forced down on your windpipe “Why. Does. It. Matter.”

Eren was breathing unevenly stuck between fighting his impulses and actually causing some damage “You’re mine you’re—you’re not supposed to—“

“Says. Who?” That makes him let go.

As it would have it you and Eren weren’t dating in any shape or form but he belonged to you. You brought him pleasure that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He was entirely devout to you and you only, all on his own fruition. From the moment he’d accidentally bumped into you and saw through the mask you wore. From the moment he stalked you from the moment he’d shown himself to you begging for salvation.

He wanted to play the game—wanted to be entertained in the morbid way regular people would get sick to their stomachs at—and you let him. You found him amusing enough to keep around but you refused to belong to anyone but yourself.

He was losing the game and fast. As his god you couldn’t be bothered with feeling bad for him.

“Now we can eat or you can sit here and starve whats it gonna be?”

Eren looked terribly unwell like he was about to fold in on himself “u-um eat please.”

You’d never seen him look so unsure before and it made you excited. How would he cry for you next? Would he try to fight more, yell and scream? Or would it be silent and broken?

Flicking your wrist you busy yourself in the kitchen “Good choice, go sit.”

He does as he’s told mumbling words to himself along the way. Was it cruel? Maybe. But you couldn’t be bothered considering how much of a thorn in your side he’d been all day.

You wanted to break him more and till he was nothing but crushed up stars slipping away in the wind. You almost felt bad for how much you were going to ruin him.

But he was your property after all to do with what you wanted. No one could stop you even if they tried. Especially because he let you and thats what made keeping him around so worth it.

You didn’t have the capability of feeling anything close to love no matter how fond of the boy you actually were. So you settled with ownership—they were damn near synonymous anyways.

So you proceeded as normal—well as normal as you are. You order the food you feed him and you move on to wash the dishes. He’d eventually get out of his feelings because he didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on certain emotions for too long. It was all but routine now.

“Eren bring me whatever dishes you left lying around.”

“...ok.”

Filling the sink with a mixture of water soap and a drop of bleach you wait patiently for the boy to bring what you requested. Turning off the tap You almost get impatient when it seemed like he was taking forever.

“Eren—“ you’re grabbed by the back of the head and shoved face first into the sudsy water.

You try with all your strength to get your head out of the sink but Eren just doesn’t stop. He’d never...hurt you before? Never acted out in this manner it startled you maybe.

And you were slowly but surely drowning.

When he finally does let you up you drop to the floor taking in large gulps of air. Your eyes stung from the mix of bleach and soapy water and you were suddenly freezing.

“Dont,” you look up to eren to see he once again wore that livid expression.

“Dont you ever think about leaving me do you understand?” His breathing was already heavy but now it was slowly turning into hyperventilation. “I’ll kill you I’ll fucking kill you if you ever l-leave me.”

You watched him begin to sob, dropping on his knees he crowded closer to you looking every bit of the victim he made himself.

“Im sorry I’m good I’ll be good I swear!” He tries to touch you but you smack his hands away making him sob harder.

You knew Eren you knew him. His inclination of violence had never been towards you and yet?

“Hit me hit me hit me im sorry please im good I promise.”

Those were the only words that made sense to you in the moment. You were a violent creature by nature one who prioritized your own life before anyone else’s, you’ve never done anything you didnt doubt you’d be able to get out of and yet? Eren had surprised you and not in a good way.

Your eyes come back into focus and you see the pitiful look he wore as if he hadn’t just almost killed you “Hit me please?”

And so you do.

You punch him right in the face with all your strength causing him to fly back against the tiles and you don’t stop there. You let out all the frustration from your near death experience out onto his body completely aware of the blissed out smile he now sported.

Regardless your mind was going 1 million miles per hour as one thing became clear. Eren was slipping out of your control and fast. One day you feared he’d be the one in control and that wasn’t a game you wanted to play.

You’re in control.

You were IN control

You not him.

You.

You freeze. Fist inches from his face.

It was like your body was in forced reboot you couldn’t move your thoughts finally spiraled too far and too fast for you to reach.

You weren’t in control?

Starring at the needy expression on his face you came to the horrific realization that maybe you’d been playing in his hands all this time. He’d been able to get anything he ever wanted out of you—he knew it too.

Did you really—no you couldn’t be right?

“I’m good see?”

Wrong—you were in so fucking deep.

Slowing your breathing you lower your once trembling fist “Get. Out.”

“Huh?”

Climbing off his chest you wipe the remaining water off your face “Get the fuck out I dont wanna see you.”

Eren hadn’t expected this outcome considering how hurt he looked “B-but where am I supposed to go?”

It was a stupid question you both knew he had his own dorm to himself but he’d been so used to sleeping with you every night that he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Rolling your eyes you til your head “I dont care.”

“I cant sleep without you.”

“Cry about it.”

Hauling his shocked form up and out of your home you slam the door shut and immediately turn all three locks ignoring his soft cries from the other side.

Pulling at your wet shirt you could feel the breakdown coming. How did he do it? How’d he make your carefully crafted control snap?

Going into your room you lock that door as well before snatching the throw blanket from the end of your bed and a pillow. Going into your walk-in closet you close the door behind you and navigate in the dark to the farthest corner and sit.

You sit and sit and sit and sit and sit...and then you scream.

You scream until your lungs are raw and your voice is gone and you’re not sure when exactly you started scratching at your face but the stinging thats left behind is brutal.

You needed to think.

You needed a plan.

You needed—fuck you didnt know.

But you did know Eren was about to become a much bigger problem.

#eren yaegar #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #aot x gn!reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk x reader #reiner x y/n #gn!reader

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Text

Autistic Magnus headcanons

ok so i got this big submission on autistic magnus which i absolutely love and i ended up breaking it down into parts so i would remember to address it all so uh, here we go. this is long lmao

submission made by @hasenfu

oof this got long lol

before i forget: i always saw Magnus as autistic. (or rather there was a post how Alec is obv autistic but Magnus could be, too?? address that?!?!) so i thought about it and… i guess he’s had longer to adapt and do smaller fidgets, unnoticeable, more healthy -if he allows himself to do such- and other things idk. i took a break of the show+fandom shortly after and never came back to the thought much.

it was mostly being hyposensitive to pressure, which is why he has those tight vests or flowy shirts with heavy necklaces and his array of rings. (definitely a hug person and should own a weighted blanket)

but also, opposed to this, being hypersensitive to touch, so all his shirts and his bedsheets are silk. (weighted blanket can go on top or be a spell)

that truly makes so much sense to me tbh like i’ve always envisioned magnus that way as well, especially the hyposensitive to pressure part. especially considering that at the point of show canon he’s so touch starved? like he’s been keeping away from most people and kinda trying to hide and i think that only added to that. i definitely agree with what you said about the vests/corsets:

you might have a full inbox once this is done lol # idk who figured this out first but one of Magnus/Raphael found out about vests, maybe Magnus wore corsets first (yes even as cis/amab demiman/gnc cis man, people wore corsets because fashion) and then opted for vests. or Raphael wore them first because Business Man and Important Stuff and told Magnus to stop wearing flowy shit with a million necklaces and just wear tight clothing like Proper Human Beings. amazing word count is full again.

(also don’t worry i’m well aware that cis men used to wear corsets lmao i even have an old post about it lying somewhere. not that i envision magnus as a cis man but anyway) and also want to add: tight pants. like the pants he wears are always slim fit and i think that has a lot to do with that too? just feeling grounded by the pressure, like he’s more steady in his steps. especially when he’s wearing the silky shirts and etc because those have barely any pressure (esp the open shirts and stuff. i mean obviously like you said the necklaces help make up for that, but like. it’s not enough imho)

but also just like, nothing is as good as the good olde hugs tbh. i mean obviously the clothes are good and help him function and not have meltdowns or feel overwhelmed (because he’s had a lot of time to prevent having meltdowns, and tbh probably uses unhealthy tactics to avoid that) and he isn’t comfortable with just anyone touching him (we know that very well. also invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe invasion of space not safe-) but the people he trusts? somehow they always feel right

i love magnus and the immortal squad being into cuddle piles, particularly magnus&raphael (who’s also hyposensitive to pressure, plus he’s a latino immigrant so he’s used to quite a lot of casual touching, but once he got to the US that was suddenly Not Allowed anymore and god that must have fucked him up so much, the cultural shock mixed in with the hyposensitivity and then he lost his whole support network on top of that. like he feels absolutely smothered by the lack of pressure all the time and it makes his skin prickle and he wants to just. scratch it off just to get some relief from the constant feeling of deprivation. and magnus of course feels a similar way, since from what i looked up quickly indonesian people are also used to overcrowded spaces and casual touching, plus again, touch starved)

like they’re both. kind of just functioning with this constant feeling of emptiness all around them, and they can’t really afford to be as touchy as they’d like because they’d be looked down on because of that, especially as downworlders, moc, etc. but when they’re in magnus’ loft and they’re alone? cuddling all the time. constant cuddling. not a single second goes by cuddleless. legs entangled, weight blanket over them, they might switch positions a lot because they might get fidgety - especially magnus, i feel like he needs to stim and etc a lot more than Raphael does - so at one second they’re lying down, the next they’re sitting, raphael is on top of magnus, magnus is on top of raphael, they’re side by side, only their legs are intertwined, raphael is lying across magnus….. it just keeps going and after like years of doing this they just do it effortlessly?

one of my exes called this “dynamic cuddling” cuz yeah he was a huge cuddler but also kinda fidgety and so was i and most of his other partners (i Cannot lie in the same position for a long time which is why im usually not big on cuddling, and also prefer to be the big spoon) and i definitely see it for them. just, every time one of them (again, usually magnus) moves the other moves along and they’re just adjusting to a new position together, instead of the awkward “person A starts to move so person B waits and then they do a little adjustment afterwards” thing. ragnor in particular is appalled (especially since you know, british, so used to No casual touching whatsoever, also he clearly gets overwhelmed easily considering how isolated he lives, oh look at me casually throwing in autistic ragnor lmao i need to calm tf down) at how easily they do it but that’s just years of practice, knowing each other very well, and having very similar sensory issues for you

the one downside is that since they’re too similar they both want to like, be the little spoon diahdsiah so that’s why weighted blanket is a must, even if obviously they switch - magnus is perfect for raphael because he’s bigger and taller so he can envelop him pretty easily and cover like His Whole Back and just really crowd him in the best possible way? obviously that means that raphael being small is not as good for magnus but he can be in like fetal position and hug his knees and have raphael spoon him that way, and there’s the added Compression (?) of that. plus raphael always runs his hands over magnus’ arms particularly and that adds to the good pressure and feeling. he also definitely likes playing with magnus’ hair, which magnus is delighted by (btw it’s a huge sign of closeness in indonesian culture). the scalp is sensitive, okay. it’s perfect

with alec it’s perfect for magnus because i see alec as the opposite, he does not like a lot of pressure and particularly having things on his back (he needs to be able to Move) so he likes being the big spoon. also he’s one of the few ppl who’s taller than magnus and can envelop him perfectly, just like magnus does raphael

also going briefly back to the vests thing, i really like the idea that it was raphael’s suggestion for some reason? i mean i kind of hc that magnus has had a huge influence on raphael’s style, but i also like it as the other way around. i especially like raphael helping magnus out with Autistic Problems™ because like you said magnus has had a lot of time to learn how to cope and hide his traits in order to be taken seriously, but he’s definitely foregone his own comfort in that proccess, and probably has a few coping mechanisms that aren’t really healthy. whereas raphael has a different perspective and grew up with a supportive family when it comes to that (i particularly hc rosa as being a great support in that sense, not letting anyone give him shit, giving him hugs when he needed, keeping people away when he didn’t want to be touched, speaking for him when he went nonverbal, etc) so he has a lot of better mechanisms. and i really dig him teaching those to magnus and helping him find better alternatives. like magnus knows about vests, has used corsets in that way before, why tf didn’t he think of that? because he’s used to ignoring his own needs :) but raphael helps him find good vests that make him feel, like, perfectly hugged and grounded and it’s Very Good. they probably share a lot during the time when raphael lives with him, since magnus can just magically adjust them anyway

plus other things such as not caring if magnus stims, and whatnot

i also think that he sometimes uses magic to handle the hyposensitivity problem, cause i mean, why not? especially when he’s in the flowy open shirts and whatnot, cuz again, like, the necklaces are good and they help a lot but they are Not Good Enough. but magic can make him feel more pressure and help him out with that, he can spell himself to have this kind of… constriction? that he likes. plus his magic kind of takes care of him on its own so i can definitely see it like, enhancing his sensitivity when he needs it, running over his arms and torso to keep him grounded, and whatnot. very useful, especially because he can do that unnoticed

that’s only what i had to say on hyposensitivity to pressure dear lord someone help me daiojdsoadjasodjadijaidoaj

onto hypersensitivity to textures! again strongly agree. i kind of headcanon that all of magnus’ clothes are lined with silk underneath because they always look just a little stuffy when they aren’t silky and again it’s clearly his favorite texture - for his sheets, his shirts, just everything he can is silky. i know he can probably magick them up but i like to think he has a tailor tbh, maybe some other old warlock who never really wanted to give up that work? idk it sounds more authentic and even connected to his roots this way so i like to headcanon that. anyway yeah silk everywhere and all the way. pretty much every other texture other than that and the People He Likes is kinda overwhelming for him, imo. which can be a Huge Problem and is probably connected to why he hates people he doesn’t like getting into his personal space - he’s perfected the personal space distancing so he’s kept away from the Bad Textures and anyone getting into it uninvited is definitely unwelcome and perceived as a threat to his safety and wellbeing - and effectively is

same goes for jewelry, like, he pretty much only wears silver stuff? i think it’s his preferred texture as well, which is why we don’t see him wearing a lot of different things. that might also be related to the thing you said about colors:

maybe being hypersensitive to colours/visual influence but this might be a jab at smol book!magnus with his neon leggings and crop tops. but all his surroundings are either dark: dark red, dark blue, or black, or medium brown (wood) or smallll golden accents. nothing harsh.

like golden can be too much visually and non-metal textures aren’t really welcome. this is also related to the pressure thing - metal is great for weight, whereas every other accessory material is Not - but texture also plays a good part

(also ur so valid for wanting to jab @ book magnus tbh lmao i don’t acknowledge that bitch)

but i could see him hyperfocusing on translations. oof idk i haven’t interacted with canon in months or maybe years. i’ve mostly thought about his stims. like also the scratching on paper, his tai chi exercises, making/drinking tea, brewing potions.

i also dig that? i think most of what we’ve seen in Genius Magnus Bane is related to that in some capacity - being his hyperfocus/hyperfixation/special interest. like the portal thing? definitely a result of him hyperfixating. and he just goes on and on, which is why he isn’t particularly known for like, One Area He Expertises On (okay i do realize this is more ADHD than autism but look he’s been alive for centuries okay his special interests are gonna pile up) but rather a lot of very specific things that he knows a lot about and that end up broaching a thousand different and wildly unrelated topics

and whenever he’s working on a magical thing, it’s just- hyperfocus all the way, baby. sometimes when he needs a distraction or is feeling overwhelmed he just goes straight to brewing because it’s guaranteed hyperfocus and like, silence in his head, you know? and he can just get away from whatever’s overwhelming/upsetting him for a while. not always healthy to do, but. still a thing that he does. translating, brewing potions, summoning things, even tracking - it immediately takes his undivided attention and suddenly he looks up and realizes that ah yes, he is in a place and has surroundings, and has a name lmao. even if it’s something like tracking which is really quick, while he’s at it he doesn’t think about absolutely anything else. then he kind of has to blink after a few seconds and remember why he was doing it in the first place lmao

this is probably deeply intertwined with his magic - like it is related to how he interacts and perceives the world, so when he’s using it, he’s effectively channeling all of his attention into one of his senses, and directing it to a single specific purpose. it’s like inhaling deeply. everything else shuts down and he’s just focused and directed into this action, and then that mixes up with autism/ADHD and you’ve got guaranteed hyperfocus. it can be both good and bad, but it’s definitely grounding and something that helps him cope with a lot of things - like, sensorial overload? just feeling overwhelmed in general? too angry or tired? needing a distraction. magic time! even if it’s just making a small ball of light, it definitely helps him focus a lot

which of course leads up to stimming! which you already mentioned up there and also in here

(obv he stimmt with his rings and ear piece thingy all the time because it cool. i don’t think he’d disturb the necklaces because they make up for not wearing a vest so playing with them would do not enough good to make up for the loss of pressure)

again completely agree with the necklace thing, he’s never really seen playing with those, but the earpieces/earlobes/rings? hoo boy. all the damn time, definitely a good way to stim. plus yeah, magic like i just said, but not only in the sense of hyperfocusing on purpose, but also that he just stims magically? like keeps making sparks with his fingers, or making and reshaping a ball like we’ve seen him do in that scene where him and alec fight in s2, some light hand twisting that comes mostly in the form of an almost imperceptible rub of his fingers together, did i mention random sparks? or just having like, invisible tendons of magic running over his arms, focusing on how they feel and making them keep twisting over him like a snake or something? dadiahias idk if i can describe that very well but you know what i mean, it’s just wrapped around his arm and moving and he’s stimming that way, focusing on its motions (plus again good pressure!) and whatnot

i also think he clicks his tongue to make up for rarely ever verbally stimming, but sometimes he can verbally stim with like specific spells that feel good on the tongue when he’s alone - it takes him centuries to ever allow himself to do that one in front of anyone, even if it’s pretty innocuous

I’m very interested in reading more on your posts and how Magnus is ADHD in things that don’t overlap with either ASD or (c-?)PTSD!

doijadoadsoaj and now that i’ve written this huge ass disconnected manifesto on a bunch of shit i realize that that was your question all along. great great great. this is fine

if you’re interested in ADHD magnus as a whole i definitely recommend reading @thesorrowoflizards‘s fantastic ADHD Magnus Manifesto which already features a lot of my headcanons anyway daoisjdaojdsaoi also i have both an adhd magnus tag and a general meta as well as a magnus meta tag (shut up i like keeping things organized okay) so you can read more stuff ive written on/that includes the subject if you want. but anyway! let me scramble up some particular headcanons out of my little peanut brain

ok i guess i can start with what i said about him having like, a lot of expertise on a bunch of unrelated topics that ends up on him having a curriculum that’s like. invented the portal, fluent in 14th century albanian, specialist in rattlesnake venom, healing magic, and endocrinology, knows how to build one (1) highly specific model of plane, PHD in the javanese herbal flora and a master’s in wormholes… and it just keeps going lmao

i kind of envision magnus having the type of adhd where his hyperfixations last a long time and are usually related to like, Solving A Problem or Figuring Out Something - take the portal for example. he set his mind to it, right, he wants to create teleportion! and he’s gonna hyperfocus on that and learn everything there is to learn until he figures out how to do that, and then he blinks and 10 years have passed and he’s just, like, been doing that. but now that it’s done, great! onto the next topic! and it begins again daoids

i mean over time he probably got better at managing hyperfixations and still like functioning, especially because you know, as high warlock he can’t go around getting distracted and immersed in whatever the fuck he finds fitting, but that’s definitely his natural state, so to speak. he’s naturaly curious and he likes to create and alter the world around him, so he’s drawn to sciences and inventions, but pretty much everything inside that is fair game. also languages! they are useful, especially but not just for a warlock, and uncover so much about a culture and their worldview. i can definitely see him hyperfixating on translations and languages and getting absolutely immersed in those, not stopping studying until he’s absolutely fluent, even if only in a specific dialect from a specific time lmao. it’s not like it’s a problem because as a warlock he reads a lot of ancient texts. and understanding the language means understanding the exact workings of whatever spell he’s using, so again, very useful!

also like, this is 100% projection, but jesus, time blindness. like i’m time blind as all fuck i’m the time blindest bitch i know it’s incredible, and i hc magnus as having a huge problem with that. and as an immortal, it only gets trickier. was this yesterday? was it in the 18th century? who knows! certainly not him. and after a while of immortality your notion of time is bound to get thwarped, in the same way that a year seemed like a long time when i was a kid and seems like nothing to current me - the more you live, the shorter any length of time seems to last. so he’s going to be like “this was two weeks ago” when in reality it was in the 30s. it might get him some pretty bad shocks, too, like for instance when one of his cats dies of old age - they already live so little, and the more time passes, the less that seems to be to magnus. and he might even feel guilty over that, like, i didn’t even enjoy that cat’s life, it felt to me like i found them yesterday, and now they’re gone, what kind of person am i

that’s not true of course, he’s always taken care of his cats wonderfully, but it might feel that way for him sometimes, feel like he barely registered they were there and it all passed so quickly even if that’s not really what happened

and sometimes panicking, like, how long has it been since i met (mortal)? are they close to dying? how much time do we have? how long did i spend worrying about the portal instead of being with them? and just spiralling into anxiety because he can’t trust his own perception of time and it’s like, suddenly, he doesn’t know

not gonna think about magnus waking up in the middle of the night before alec becomes immortal worried that it’s been longer than he thinks, that he thinks it’s been a few years but it’s actually been decades, and what if he turns around and finds that alec is greying and dying and he’s going to lose him without even noticing? is this going to slip through his fingers before he notices, because magnus will never forgive himself if it does. haha yeah definitely not gonna think about that, nope. i’m fine

but also just stupider things with time blindness, like being like “oh wow, did that restaurant i liked close? has it really been this long since i’ve last been here?” “hm. it says here that this has been a residential building for the last 30 years.” “has it???”

getting centuries mixed up, even if he has very obvious cues to figure out where something took place (like clothing and whatnot) but sometimes he doesn’t think of doing that and just spits out however long it feels like it has been (because like idk about other people but for me time blindness comes with a very clear sense of certainty? like i’ll be like i am absolutely, completely sure that this was a week ago. but then i look and it was two months ago or last year or when i was a kid) and it’s just wildly wrong

over time he learns to always do actual calculations in his head instead of trusting his gut so as to avoid embarrassment and even scorn - oh look i’m making myself sad again god damn it - and he becomes very quick at calculating and figuring it out from cues, like “ah this clothing is from the victorian era, this material wasn’t invented before (x year), i met this person on that year…. so it’s year x”. he kind of has annotations on that so he can keep up. he doesn’t know the years and dates because of his own memories, but from like, a history-studying standpoint lmao it’s a little wack but he manages

every once in a while tho, especially when he’s with alec or his friends, he slips up, and it’s funny. especially because alec has like. an annoyingly good memory, especially with dates, so he can say the exact date that they had a specific conversation without even thinking. so magnus will be like “alexander remember last week when you made me soto ayam?” and alec will give him that shit eating grin and be like “the last time i made you soto ayam was 3 months and 12 days ago” and magnus is just like UGGGHHH and alec makes fun of him for it lmao

but hey at least they can make up for each other’s weaknesses when it comes to that duahsda but it’s frustrating because it’s one thing that alec is effortlessly good at while magnus is very bad at, and there aren’t a lot of these - especially since magnus has had so much time and so many interests, he’s way more likely to know his way and be good with something than alec, who’s been raised in a military society where interests of any kind weren’t welcome. so it’s frustrating and by god is alec smug about it

and okay i think that’s big enough for now doaijdsaodaj i apologize for the huge incoherent ramble and also for taking so long to reply, i’m just Like This. i hope you liked my answer anyway doauhdaihdsa and thank you again for this wonderful submission, few things make me happier than getting lengthy headcanons shared with me :)

#submission #ask #hasenfu #sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #meta #magnus bane meta #autistic magnus bane #adhd magnus bane #autistic raphael santiago #one (1) very brief mention of autistic alec #okay now it's two but tbh more if you squint #raphael santiago #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them #brief malec

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gcnnerpaxton · 4 years

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bri again making a terrible decision. do i need a fourth? no.......... bt here we are anyway. after this i promise im done fr a while bt :/ i lov this lil bitch so here we are........ give this a like if u wld b Down to Clown w him aka plot!

「axel auriant & cismale」⇾ paxton , gunner, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he is a leo and 22 years old. he is studying film, living off campus and can be loyal, resilient, anxious & indifferent. when i see him i am reminded of curling up in bed for days in a hello kitty comfort shirt, the click of a camera shutter & hand-me-down’s two sizes too big.

pinterest is HERE.

TW’S FOR ABUSE, VIOLENCE, MISSING CHILD, KIDNAPPING, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, AND INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA BELOW!

stats.

name: gunner brick paxton.

age: twenty-two.

gender identity: cis-male.

pronouns: he/him.

sexuality: demisexual.

birthday: july 31, 1998.

star sign: leo.

myers-briggs: istj.

year of study: senior.

major: film.

occupation: librarian.

place of birth: laramie, wyoming.

religion: catholic (non-practicing).

background.

neen jst brought in gunner’s older brother so fr those who read elias’ bio u kno tht gunner is the middle paxton child w eli being the oldest n then they have wyatt who is the youngest!!

they lived at the top of a hill in a trailer in a trailer park neighbourhood in laramie, wyoming so to say the least that fucking sucked for everyone involved

the trailer was so small that all 3 boys ended up sharing a room, gunner and wyatt sharing a bunk bed bc they cldnt fit 3 beds into one room it really was every childs nightmare bt they quickly grew used to it tbh

gunner was always more of an artsy child than invested in sports - though he does enjoy baseball and continued even to this day after their dad made him join SOMETHING in middle school - so he never rly earned their father’s respect, but he was always close with his mom since they had the same calm temperament

DEPRESSION/ANXIETY TW - he also gained a list of mental health issues that their mom had as well, including social anxiety and major depressive disorder - DEPRESSION/ANXIETY TW END

VIOLENCE/ABUSE TW - their father always encouraged pretty volatile behaviour and it caused a lot of physical fights and arguments between the brothers when their dad told them the best way to get over it was to start hurting until someone tapped out, it was just a chaotic and pretty abusive household but no one knew and their mom definitely wasn’t going to say anything about it to their dad - VIOLENCE/ABUSE TW END

MISSING CHILD/KIDNAPPING TW - wyatt went missing on a weekend that their parents were gone because of a trip they won, and things just got worse from there

ANXIETY/DEPRESSION TW - high school was really rough for gunner, his anxiety grew worse as time went on that no one found wyatt, their dad grew more hostile towards them, and their mom just grew sicker, it was rare that she would ever leave her room and if she did it was in fits of random energy where she would do something spontaneous and completely unnecessary to their house as a way of coping - MISSING CHILD/KIDNAPPING/ANXIETY/DEPRESSION TW END

the two years that gunner was at home after elias finally left for school were basically torture and as soon as he could, he was falling his brother’s footsteps in getting out of wyoming to go to school at radcliffe

INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA TW - things are far better now that they’re out of their home situation, but gunner’s going through some more things personally now; the paxton’s were raised in an incredibly religious household, and he’s got some classic Catholic Guilt going on upon realizing that he’s not jst attracted to women n he avoided talking abt it forever/stayed in the closet fr far too long bt he’s sort of come out now in his own way even tho he does still get a bit nervous talking abt it rly - INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA TW END

he’s also ‘dealing’ rn which is frankly funny to think abt bc this man is abt as threatening as a care bear bt money is tight between him and eli all things considering, and with the amount of meds he’s on, plus incredibly frequent doctor’s visits, needing to pay for extra epi-pens, inhalers, etcs. bills add up so he’s cutting back his meds n selling wht he can spare which is . so unhealthy bt thts life in corporate america baybee!

details.

is literally allergic to everything. grass, cats, most fruits, milk, most nuts, bees, latex, probably more i cnt even keep up w them its pathetic

u can catch him n eli strutting around campus w matching epipen holders tht he got them fr eli’s 16th bday JKSDNGKLHSDGLK

if things cldnt get worse he also has quite intense asthma so he carries an inhaler with him at all times

n to make matters even WORSE he frequently has dizzy spells n bad memory problems bc of all the concussions he’s suffered from (about 8-9 at this point) as well as consistent migraines that can b literally debilitating sometimes

awkward n jst a bit of a Weirdo to b frank like if it weren’t fr eli he wld probably have one (1) friend he jst cnt converse w ppl

didnt have any friends in high school so took the time to teach himself rly weird things, knows a fuck ton of magic tricks, can yodel, juggle, solve a rubix cube with his eyes closed in under 2 minutes, just extremely weird and specific things

can honestly b a bit mean/barbaric to ppl he’s not close w/doesn’t kno has told ppl to their face before he doesn’t enjoy talking to them bc he has no concept of social constructs/norms

loves 2 film random things at parties, makes him feel more comfortable at them n he makes short films of them all after

update about his summer away: ended up heading to nyc fr a film internship n actually had a rly good time??? fr once?? jst had a rly nice summer fling after being a bit heartbroken throughout the school year it was jst a rly necessary n fulfilling summer fr him king of getting wht he finally deserves

this also led him to b like . oh maybe i’m Not broken bc he doesn’t realize........... demisexuality is a thing n wld get rly awkward during hookups a lot if hes jst not 100% comfortable w the person so now he thinks hes like a one man machine who actually has some Self Esteem n thinks he can have Sexual Relations all day every day (he cannot)

connections.

ppl who buy off him?? probs wld have to kno him some way hes too scared to sell to Random randoms KJSHDGKLHSDLG

other film majors :-)

some friends………. hes awkward bt he means well…………

a mans he wld Risk It All fr (aka a guy tht gunner actually has a crush on n is Extra Awkward probs a lil mean to bc hes still New to That)

ppl he has a crush on/unrequited crushes either way wtvr floats ur boat

some enemies tbh much like elias he has a temper n he tends to blow up rarely bt it happens n when it does it actually can b quite scary JKSHDGLHSDG

a muse….. mayhaps?? someone he always wants in his film projects

awkward past hook ups maybe some current ones teehee

anything Ur Heart Desires

#ruhqintro #abuse tw #violence tw #missing child tw #kidnapping tw #depression tw #anxiety tw #internalized homophobia tw #yeesh dabs my forehead at all these tw's................#SKLDGHLKSDHGKLSDHGKLSDG

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revol-lover · 4 years

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i know i have become a shit post queen but this site is a good place to just dump thoughts when i’m too lazy to actually write them down so don’t mind me. also i’m “ok enough”. like i’m not ok-ok but i’m not like badly not ok.

ok? anyway.

so idk what it is. being raised by emotionally distant parents esp my mom or the depression thats probably also related to that but man i just feel so empty for such long periods of time. empty, or maybe detached is a better word. and just really really restless. and also that when i have good emotions, i dont feel them all that much. idk. sometimes i feel like i’m on the outside looking in on my life. i have a lot of feelings but then at the same time i dont. maybe because i repress a lot then it all builds up and explodes. idk. its awful though.

i also feel like i have two very distinct sides to me. half of me is like fuck this shit i just want to self destruct but i wont because i’m too responsible to do that and the other half is like wow life is so interesting i am a spirit not a body and i want to be an enlightened being. neither of those sides of me is less me than the other. neither is a farce or anything but its fucking hard for those two sides of me to coexist. the only middle ground, which is probably like 1/3 of the time how i feel, is blah. neutral to absolutely everything.

and i think ive talked about this before but before the whole corona/quarantine thing i was at this extreme level of DONE with feeling isolated in my life, esp as a sahm. done with falling into the trap of believing being a mom was my whole identity (and its definitely a part of it, of course. but i think its unhealthy for moms to think its all we are) like i totally lost myself for a while. my daughters birth being traumatic and her having potential life long complications (and ‘potential’ meaning, her diagnosis is so complicated. theres never going to be a time where we get a real “all clear”. some kids have developed seizures again way down the road, especially at certain ages where kids go through a lot of development.) and then ofc just raising a child with all of that going on, plus normal toddler craziness, plus having a kid who is super hyper and smart and amazing but parenting after having a difficult relationship with your own mother is one of those things that is really hard and not talked about enough. i never feel like im doing enough. i never feel like she likes me.i know thats so stupid but i really am that insecure about my parenting, no matter how hard i try. i just want my child to love me and sometimes toddlers do things that make you feel like crap (ex ‘i dont want u mom i want daddy!’ and i can rationalize it, dad’s the exclusive parent. i’m just here all the time like the furniture. i get it.) and its just a big complicated thing with my emotions. not what i was trying to say tho i got off track.

anyway the isolation thing. so i had a plan. a plan!!! i have this one awesome long time friend, honestly my only friend outside of my husband who knows me like the good bad and ugly, has known me for a very long time, and has been there for me through some really tough shit. he’s like the brother i never had, truly. (i have a biological brother but we dont really talk.) so i talked to him about things i was going through and he’s also been going through a challenging time in his life and he told me he’d help me get out there. we were going to force me to learn to socialize and make friends in “real life” by putting me in those situations. we were going to go to some poetry club. a show downtown. like i was ready. then corona happened. and my already crawling out of my skin isolation got worse because hey we cant do anything now, not even see my one friend.

so yeah. i was fine in the beginning of all this because i figured, hey by may itll be over! then hey by june! then maybe 4th of july. which has become, my daughter is so excited about her birthday party in august and i dont even know if i can throw her one and i dont know how to deal with this or explain it to her.

i know this is major first world problems and im all over the place and i document this dumb shit because i hope one day i’ll be so far past it and be able to look back and think well wow i made it through 2020 but yeah idk

i think part of it is i’m turning 27 in two weeks and my saturn return thing is just getting so close and i’m starting to see the beginning of shit in my life crumbling underneath me. like i know what i gotta do. i have to put myself out there. i have to get out of my safety zone. and i have to use my gifts to help others not just sit here drowning in my self pity but obviously its hard to challenge yourself and put yourself out there, literally, during a pandemic.

and the last point which is just something that boggles my mind about myself that i dont understand. like i’m definitely depressed. i have very bad anxiety too. and even though i can be extremely self pitying and go into like a black hole of sadness, i still dont let myself do bad things. which is good, obviously. but its iike i’ve been recovered from self injury for probably about ten years but some days i am so deep in my shitty feelings or empty feelings that i just want to do it again but i cant. theres something in me that wont let me. and i guess im glad for that, obviously. i guess my life/universe/guardian angel is trying to force me to face shit for real and not just have shitty coping mechanisms but idk. like it was a bad outlet but idk. sometimes, just sometimes, i feel like it did more for me than just writing things out. which is bullshit because it did nothing for me except give me a bunch little permanent reminders of shitty times. but idk. that’s my brain for you. sometimes i want to just let it all go and be a mess in my feelings and not care if i’m ok but then my brain is like nope bitch you cant do that. youre not 17 anymore, get up.

and i know some people would read this (well no - no one would read all this lmao but in a theoretical sense) and think like, oh did you try therapy or oh maybe try meds and the thing is

therapy - i tried it. i liked the idea of it. bad fit with the therapist tho. didnt like being kicked out after 45 min (which i understand but bitch i need more than that to explain one problem) and it felt weird to be told by her, that she felt like i had a good handle on things. cause i dont really feel that way and i feel like she didnt have much to tell me in terms of how to idk fix myself besides journaling, which i’ll give her. it helps

meds: i i dont really want to go that route yet because my body is really sensitive to medication. like i dont even take bc or anything like that. however i think ive decided that since its super legal and obtainable i might try pot once we are able to move into our own place. so if anyone did actually read this far and have experience with that (esp w anxiety) please enlighten me. i had some samples of some cbd stuff and it was amazing for my anxiety but it’s way too expensive for me to use consistently.

this has been a very long shit post but i feel better so theres that.

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vulture-jack · 5 years

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rambles about like. idk. bullying? shitting on people for liking things more than is deemed “acceptable”? below the cut

Shitting on people for enjoying things “too much” is like. A waste of time and kinda shitty ngl.

This is not talking about people who defend awful shit and people that they like btw.

But like.

I have spent my ENTIRE life, as far back as I can remember, over two decades, obsessed with something. I have jumped from obsession to obsession since I was old enough to register reality. And I often carry those loves and obsessions with me. I’ve ALWAYS loved nature and animals so thats a life long, umbrella obsession that started early with animal planet, david attenborough vhs tapes, and movies like Free Willy, which sparked my YEARS long obsession with the ocean and a desire to be a marine biologist that I held onto into high school (from the time I was like. 4). Then it was horses, and I learned to ride, and I made many friends, and I learned a lot. I don’t do it anymore but I miss it dearly. Its still a part of my heart. Then it was a few cartoons, there were a handful but the major obsessions that jump out are first Danny Phantom and then I full dove into anime with Naruto. Around the middle of high school I got very into the videogame Okami and Jhorror.

Many of yall met me in the period starting in my senior year that lasted nearly a decade and is still continuing where HTTYD was my favorite thing in the universe. Vultures became my favorite animal at some point in community college. Right now I’m like WAY into bugs, and for a while there it was paleontology. Its not that I ever like. FORGET about these things and stop loving them, either. Usually I keep them with me in some capacity, some more important to me over the years than others. (Httyd is the first thing since horses and marine bio that Ive kept so close to my heart for so long which is wild to me because most things that I love THAT DEARLY aren’t fiction)

I literally DO NOT know what its like to not have something like that in my life. I dont know what I’d think about. It drives me to create. It consumes me and entertains me and gives me something to think about and plan for.

But I got made fun of for shit like that pretty bad as a kid. Like sure I was wild and a bit annoying and weird but like. Idk man. That judgement never left me. I’m terrified of the moment anyone comments on something I love. My family has a way of talking about it that makes me feel like everything I love is another stupid phase. Im terrified of being judged again, being made fun of again. Even when I know I shouldn’t care, its taken root deep inside me.

I play down how much I love shit for as long as I can. I feel embarrassment talking about the things that I love.

Because people made fun of me. ADULTS made fun of me. When I was a KID. Maybe there was no stopping other kids making fun of me, but I think it was the adults that really fucked me up.

idk man just.

Its taking me a really long time to stop hating myself, stop hating who I was as a child for liking things too much, not feeling self conscious when I finding something I love a lot. Not feeling embarrassed when people come into my room and see posters of the things that mean a lot to me.

Not feeling childish for loving something “too much”.

Loving things makes my life better. Why would I want to love things less? What is appropriate for me to enjoy and how much is appropriate and WHY?

Life is fucking hard. Life has been hell for me at times and I’m p sure loving things as much as I do has gotten me through it because Its given me something about this world to hold on to. I can’t be too cynical when theres so many things that I love so fucking much.

I know there are unhealthy ways to love things. I know Ive used things I love as an unhealthy coping mechanism. But even so, without them there in the first place, I may have fallen into despair. I don’t know if I could have survived what I went through, what I’m GOING through, without the things that I love to throw myself into.

idk just some thoughts.

Like.

Be nice to people. Really THINK like. WHY do i feel the need to shit on this person, will it make them better, will it make the world better, or is this just me reacting to social norms for what is an acceptable amount to love something.

I hate feeling the way I feel about myself. I don’t want any more kids to feel this way. I want them to love what they love without fear of being judged. I want them to be passionate without shame.

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years

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Sting’s entire life changed when he was eleven years old and his best friend Rogue told a secret that he’d promised to keep. Taken away from the father who abused him and the best friend who’d tried to save him, Sting tried to start a new life with his uncle. But the trauma wasn’t easy to escape, and eventually Sting turned to drinking to forget the things that hurt.

Now he’s an adult, and he hasn’t been sober in years. But when drinking nearly kills him and a near-stranger saves his life, Sting has a chance to turn his life around, and maybe become the man that Rogue deserves to love.

Chapter Summary: Things get worse, and Sting tries to find ways to cope with his anger.

Chapters (9/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel & Sting Eucliffe, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia (Fairy Tail) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

**TW for underage drinking and sexually suggestive content with teens

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im·paired | \ im-ˈperd adjective : being in an imperfect or weakened state or condition

vii

spring age thirteen

After that, the nightmares start.

Sting wakes up crying in the middle of the night with blood under his fingernails from scratching at his arms. He can’t remember what the dream was about, but afterward, he can’t fall back asleep. His stomach hurts, and there’s a part of him that wants to wake up Uncle Wes and ask for a hug. But then he hears his dad’s voice, so he hides in the closet instead.

Grow up

Stop crying

Don’t be such a baby

Sting squeezes his eyes shut and covers his ears, shaking his head and pressing himself as far back in the corner as he can. “Stop it,” he whispers. Everything is blurry and his head hurts, and all he can think about is shouting and broken glass.

The next day at school he can’t eat, and halfway through third period he gets a headache so bad that he has to run to the washroom and throw up. He manages through the rest of the day, and when he gets home, Uncle Wes tries to ask what’s wrong.

Sting ignore the question and hides in his bedroom, refusing supper and eventually falling asleep in his clothes. He wakes up in the middle of the night, crying and sweating and eventually throwing up again.

“You don’t look good,” Uncle Wes says the next morning when Sting drags himself downstairs for breakfast. “Do you want to stay home from school today?”

Sting can’t even look at him. Even when the police had showed up with Sting in tow at four in the morning, Uncle Wes hadn’t been mad. He hadn’t yelled at Sting for using his phone, or stealing money for the bus, or sneaking away to see his dad. Instead he’d thanked the officer, then pulled Sting into a hug and told him it was going to be okay.

Sting shakes his head, pushing away the cereal Uncle Wes made for him and leaving the house without a word.

It’s not going to be okay.

Continue reading on AO3

Things get worse.

The nightmares don’t stop. Sting’s stomach hurts every day, and food becomes a fight. He can’t pay attention in school, and nothing sticks because he’s never really there. When he starts failing tests, Uncle Wes tries to step in. He meets with Sting and his teachers and it’s just like when Sting had come out and they’d all talked about pronouns and bathrooms like he wasn’t even there. This time, the teachers look at him with pity instead of curiosity, and eventually Sting shoves his chair over and storms out of the room.

He doesn’t go back to school.

Uncle Wes gets him into this online program for ‘alternative learning,’ which Sting knows is a fancy way for saying ‘kids that are fucked up.’ At first, he tries because Uncle Wes is so good to him, and Sting doesn’t want to make him upset. But eventually, it’s too much. He can’t focus on anything, and he doesn’t want to.

Sting knows Uncle Wes is disappointed, but he never shouts, and sometimes Sting wishes he would. Nothing makes Uncle Wes mad, so Sting gets angry instead. He yells and slams doors and tears his notebooks to pieces, but it doesn’t help.

Sting never feels better, and he starts to think he never will.

The first time Sting gets drunk, he’s sixteen.

He’s sitting on the street in an unfamiliar town, staring up at the streetlights and trying not to cry. It’s been hours since he ran away from the guy he’d hitchhiked here with – hours since the words you owe me for the ride were accompanied by a hand around his wrist and a sharp stab of panic. Sting had never run so fast in his life, and now he’s desperately, terrifyingly lost.

Uncle Wes has probably realized he’s gone by now, but it’s the fourth time Sting’s taken off in the past two years, so he probably hasn’t even bothered to call the police this time. Part of Sting wants him to, wants to be found. The other part knows that he’s not worth saving.

You’re never gonna be anything.

Sting shudders. Fuck you, dad, he thinks, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them close to his chest. It’s November and he’s freezing – he’s wearing two sweaters but the chill on the cement is soaking through his jeans and he can barely feel his fingers.

“If you stay there, you’re gonna get picked up.”

Sting looks up to see a guy a few years older than him leaning against the bus stop down the street. He’s got hard, dark eyes, and Sting thinks he should probably run away, but he’s just so fucking tired.

“Fuck off,” he growls, trying to sound tough. He’s sure he just sounds pathetic.

The guy shrugs, tipping his head toward the end of the street. “Cops tend to come by here. It’s too close to the fancy neighborhoods.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step toward Sting. “You’re not from around here.”

Sting doesn’t answer. He pulls his knees closer to him, digging his fingers into his palm to keep himself from trembling. Last time he ran, it had been July, and he’d been able to sleep in the park for a couple nights. This time it’s freezing, and he has nowhere to go.

The sharp blip of a siren makes Sting jump. Fuck. If he gets picked up again, he’ll just end up being Uncle Wes’ problem again, and that’s the last thing he needs. Red-and-blue lights reflect off the wall further down the street, and Sting hears a door slam as an officer gets out of the car.

“You need a place to crash,” the guy says, and it’s more of a statement than a question. He reaches out a hand and Sting shies away from it.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Sting asks.

“I was there,” the guy says, shrugging. “We’ve all got sob stories. Look, it’s not the fuckin’ Hilton, but it’s warm and sometimes people have shit to eat. You look hungry.” Sting stares at the outstretched fingers, then slowly reaches out and takes them. “I’m Ryan,” the guy says once Sting is standing.

“Sting.”

“Interesting name.”

Sting doesn’t say anything, but when Ryan starts walking down the street, Sting grabs his backpack from the ground and follows him. It’s starting to snow, heavy flakes drifting through the dirty light of the streetlamps, and Sting shoves his hands deep into his pockets, shivering.

“Where you from?” Ryan asks as they walk.

“Not here,” Sting replies.

Ryan looks at him sideways, eyes searching Sting’s face before he says, “how old are you?”

“What difference does it make?” Sting snaps, staring down at the sidewalk. He’s tempted to just tell this guy to fuck off, to try and find a quiet corner to sleep in until he can figure out what to do, but Ryan doesn’t pry, so Sting keeps following him.

Ryan’s place turns out to be a shitty apartment in a building with a busted door and a broken elevator. Everything smells like cigarette smoke and the wallpaper is peeling, and when Ryan kicks the door to his apartment open, a cloud of smoke wafts out around him.

“C’mon,” Ryan says, grabbing Sting’s arm and guiding him inside. Sting immediately tries to pull away, but Ryan’s grip is tight, and he doesn’t even seem to notice Sting’s panic.

“Ryaannn!” Some guy from the living room calls out and holds up a bottle of beer from his spot on the couch. “Who’s the new kid?”

“Sting,” Ryan says, nudging Sting forward through the kitchen. “Grab him a beer, yeah?”

The next few minutes are a blur of unfamiliar people and names Sting won’t remember, and a low, thrumming panic in the back of his mind that whispers, get out, get out, you aren’t safe. When someone eventually pushes a beer into his hand, he stares at the bottle for a long time. All he can think about is his dad, sitting in the recliner in the living room, downing drink after drink until he passed out and it was finally safe for Sting to leave his room.

I’m not like him, Sting thinks, swallowing back tears. But then he remembers last night, when he’d been so angry that he’d thrown his plate on the floor and shouted at Uncle Wes across the broken pieces. The whole time, Uncle Wes had been calm and patient, and it had stoked the aching, terrified fury that was always boiling in Sting’s chest.

I’m just like him, Sting thinks, and takes a drink.

It doesn’t take long for Sting to start feeling it.

At first, it’s like bubbles. Sting’s cheeks flush and his fingers tingle, and the hurt that he’s been carrying around for so long starts to fade into a sort of numb haze. Then Ryan gives him a couple shots of something that tastes horrible, and then a cup of something pink, and after a while, Sting feels like he’s floating. Every time he blinks it’s like falling asleep – soft and hazy and a little bit unreal.

Sting’s not sure what time it is, but it doesn’t seem to matter. People come and go, laughing and drinking and making out with each other on the couches or against the walls. Every time Sting closes his eyes and opens them again, it’s like a shifting dream where everything’s out of sync and nobody is real.

“You okay?” A soft voice drags Sting out of his haze and he looks up. A girl that he doesn’t recognize stares down at him, and he realizes that his head is in her lap and she’s running her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, running his hand over the fabric of the couch. The sensation is wildly unfamiliar, sparks prickling on his fingertips as he explores a ragged cigarette burn on the cushion. Every time the girl touches his face, it’s electric, and he stares at her. “Your eyes are green,” he says, reaching up and running his fingers across her cheek.

“You’re wasted,” the girl giggles. “Why’re you here? You’re too pretty for this place.”

Sting stares at her for a minute, then shakes his head. His hands are tingling now, and he can’t feel anything except a deep sense of relief. The room around him is warped and fading, and he wonders why he’s never done this before.

“How’re you feeling?”

Sting looks up at someone vaguely familiar – Ryan, he’s pretty sure – whose face is swimming in front of the blurry living room lights. It’s like a halo around him, making him bright and warm and something Sting wants to touch.

He does, reaching out and running his fingers over Ryan’s jeans. The fabric is textured under Sting’s fingertips – it’s like he can feel every fiber of the denim against his skin.

“You’re wasted,” Ryan laughs, pulling the girl up and taking her place on the couch next to Sting. A tiny flash of panic runs through Sting when Ryan touches his hair, but the feeling starts to fade when Ryan’s fingers start combing through it. “Feels good, hey?”

Sting hums. He’s so tired, suddenly – keeping his eyes open feels next to impossible. Maybe if he sleeps like this, he won’t have nightmares.

“Y’know what else feels good?” Ryan asks, his voice dropping as he keeps playing with Sting’s hair. His other hand slides up over Sting’s stomach and starts to move in gentle circles there. Sting tenses.

“I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Ryan says, sliding his hand a little lower until his fingers are brushing Sting’s belt. A jolt of panic makes its way through the haze in Sting’s mind and he pushes Ryan’s hand away clumsily.

“No,” he mumbles, forcing himself to sit up. As soon as he’s vertical, everything starts to spin, and he groans, putting his head in his hands.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Ryan says gently, putting his hand between Sting’s shoulder blades. “This your first time?”

Sting’s not sure if Ryan’s talking about drinking, or whatever he was planning on doing with his hands and Sting’s belt, but either way the answer is ‘yes.’ “I should…” Sting frowns, looking around the room for his backpack. Everything blurs together into a mess of light and color, and he sighs, leaning back against the couch.

“I told you that you could crash here,” Ryan says. His thigh is touching Sting’s, but his hands aren’t, so Sting lets it slide. “’s my fault you’re wasted.”

Sting wants to argue, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. “’kay,” he says quietly, leaning back until he’s lying on the couch again and staring at the water stains on the ceiling. He shouldn’t be here. His phone is in his back pocket, and Sting knows that if he called, Uncle Wes would come get him.

Ryan squeezes Sting’s knee and stands up, giving Sting an unreadable look and then heading away into the kitchen. The sounds of the party around him fade away, and Sting’s hand drifts down to his phone.

But then he thinks about the broken glass and the awful words he’d shouted, and he shakes his head, curling up so he’s facing the back of the couch and letting himself slip back into a numb haze.

Sting can survive on his own, and Uncle Wes is better off without him.

#fairy tail #ftlgbtales #ftlgbtfics #stingue #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #fanfic #tw: drinking #new chapter #update #my fic

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artisticrendezvous · 6 years

Text

harley quinn & poison ivy

TW: abuse (physical, emotional, verbal)

buckle in kids, this is going to be a long one.

so lately I've been seeing people talking about how ivy is abusive to harley as well, just to a lesser extent, but is as equally toxic as joker x harley. it’s been used as a justification for supporting/shipping harley x joker and for shit talking harley quinn as a character. so im here to clear some stuff up.

now don’t get me wrong-- harley & ivy’s initial relationship was awful, especially as portrayed in the 2007 Harley & Ivy comic book. ivy was pretty physically aggressive with harley and said some hurtful things. i’m not going to sugar coat it, because the beginning of their relationship was not healthy whatsoever.

HOWEVER, keep in mind the past of both characters, as well as more recent media.

a lot of people know harley’s backstory and how she was abused by the joker. but i feel like a lot of people forget that ivy was also heavily abused. she didn’t become poison ivy of her own free will, and there’s a reason she hates men. as pamela isley, she was seduced by her professor, jason woodrue (floronic man) and he uses her as his test subject in his experiments, completely using her and abusing her trust. he nearly killed her twice and drove her insane. when the authorities began to close in, woodrue just ups and leaves ivy in the hospital. her heart is broken, she feels betrayed, and she swears to never trust anyone again-- especially not men. so yeah, harley isn’t the only one with a messed up, ptsd inducing past

as those who have been through abuse may know or have experienced, it’s not uncommon to develop unhealthy coping mechanisms and/or behaviors as a result of a traumatic event. especially when the victim does not get proper help from professionals or other available resources. for ivy, she became hateful to the world, trusting only herself. when harley tries to get close, ivy pushes her away in the only way she can think will make harley permanently leave her alone: physical violence. now i am NOT condoning her behavior or saying it was okay in any capacity. there is no excuse for being violent towards anyone, especially a ‘friend’. but i’m just giving an explanation for the behavior.

at the same time, however, harley isn’t exactly the pinnacle of being the perfect partner. she doesn’t respect ivy’s space and is actually quite emotionally manipulative. despite the fact ivy constantly tells harley to leave joker, knowing that it pains ivy to see harley leave again and again to go back to her abuser, she continues to do so. harley has straight up left her ‘best friend’ for the joker, and no matter how many ultimatums ivy gives her, harley always chooses the joker. if you have a best friend who did this to you, how would you feel?

so yeah, they both had some awful tendencies and treated each other awfully in the beginning. that’s just the fact of the matter. but also remember the context: they’re both abused individuals who have been through hell and back, and who are trying to cope the best way they know how. once again, it does NOT excuse their treatment of each other, but it does give in context.

however, despite everything, they watch out for each other and they stick together. they see each other as kindred spirits, and it’s what brings them together, and also what helps them to grow together, both as friends/a couple and as individuals. ivy learns to trust again, and is no longer physically abusive to harley. while she does have some tough love for harley at times, in recent years (2011-) she is doesn’t verbally accost harley anymore either. harley has learned to stand up to the joker and that she has self worth, and has since left the joker’s side, breaking her cycle of abuse as well as letting herself have healthier behaviors in terms of her relationships with others, especially ivy. harley & ivy have changed since the 2007 Harley & Ivy comic, where most people draw examples of their unhealthy relationship. not to mention, most people in comics know a lot of things get retconned, but one thing that has always been constant since Harley’s conception 27 years ago is that the joker abuses and uses her.

but unlike the joker, who discards harley time and time again, ivy is always there for harley no matter what. ivy even went as far as dressing up as harley so the joker would shoot her instead of shooting harley. in harley’s first comic appearance in batman adventures #12, when barbara hits harley a bit too hard in the head, instead of leaving harley out to dry or continuing her fight with the batgirl, ivy pushes barbara out of the way to check to see how harley is doing. when she saw harley on the verge of death after the joker tried to kill her by strapping her to a rocket, she healed harley up and even gave her immunity to her poisons and toxins despite not being terribly close to the clownette at the time. harley, despite her dislike of bugs and the outdoors, willingly goes to the amazon with ivy to help collect plants. she makes time out of her schedule, no matter what is going on, to visit ivy and take her on trips. she always checks to make sure ivy is okay with her relationships (such as when harley was interested in mason, or when harley picked up a ‘pet’ from the beach). she constantly reassures ivy of her love and affection for her, and to let ivy know that she has her back no matter what.

no relationship is perfect, and harley and ivy aren’t an exception to the rule. as I see it, you can either see the old harley & ivy (2007) as being retconned (seeing as since new 52 they’ve changed harley’s backstory anyway) or you can see it as a starting point for the development of a relationship between two abused individuals with unhealthy coping mechanisms who slowly heal together and push each other to improve as individuals and as in their relationship, and who now have a strong, loving, healthy relationship.

if you need instances/’proof’ of what i’m spewing, hmu. if you think I'm pulling the abuse leading to toxic behaviors out of my ass, hmu. like i said, i do not condone any abusive behavior, no matter what the excuse is behind it. however, context gives new meaning to things, even if it doesn't justify it. yes, harley and ivy did not have the best of relationships at the beginning, but their relationship as portrayed since 2011 is extremely healthy and loving.

honestly for just about any relationship in comic books you can find an instance of abusive behavior. do you really think it’s a healthy relationship for catwoman & batman to be together, given they have physically fought each other repeatedly? I honestly have nothing against selina x bruce, but one can easily point to that as being abusive and unhealthy. same goes for lois and clark, seeing as lois has constantly shoved away clark until she found out he was superman, and suddenly he was good enough for her. anything can be twisted, but when given the full context, things change. and that goes for harley & ivy as well.

but one thing has always remained no matter the continuity: harley & joker are an abusive, unhealthy couple no matter what context. (yes, even in white knight-- i mean the joker/jack didn’t even recognize the fact the harley was proposing to wasn’t even the real harley. what does that say about him and how he viewed harley all those years?)

#dc comics #dc #harley quinn #poison ivy #harley quinn x poison ivy #harlivy #parsley #rant #harley x joker #vent #abuse #comic book abuse #harleyivy

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fiveknivesdates · 4 years

Text

Solo's the only way I can breathe (Chapter 3)

Camilla

Being knocked out is very much different from falling asleep. Sleep is like diving into your mind, seeing with closed eyes, walking without moving. Sleep is filled with dreams, and dreams are filled with wants. Dreams are filled with nightmares, and dreams are filled with memories. Sometimes I like sleeping, I let go of my worries and rest. Sometimes I hate sleeping, for my nightmares aren't kind to me. My nightmares also seem to just be twisted memories, terrors I’ve seen in the waking world, come alive once again inside my mind.

Sleeping is a thing I can have opinions on, and I have a lot of opinions, but being knocked out is entirely different. You don't dream when you are forced unconscious. It feels a lot like closing your eyes, and opening them again hours later. It's a blackout, without any alcohol in my veins, only a strong headache from where I was hit.

It takes me precious seconds to remember that I was hit, and along with that memory comes all the ones with Erika, Aiden and me pinned against a brick wall. I shoot up from where I was laying and looks around, only to realize that I have truly been kidnapped.

I am sitting on a bed inside a claustrophobic wooden room. I am not a claustrophobic person, I am properly the opposite, since I am a bit frightened by big, open spaces, but this room feels too small to me a normal room. The thought that it might be a basement crosses my mind briefly, but I push it aside quickly due to the four windows where my only light comes from.

I get up on wobbly legs and look out one of the windows, suspecting to see the streets of Copenhagen outside. I don't. I don't see those familiar streets or any streets at all. I see dark and murky water, and a city quickly disappearing in the horizon. I was on a boat. My knuckles go white as I grip onto the edge of the window, and I forget how to breathe. How could I be so out of touch with my surroundings, that I couldn't feel the floor moving? Couldn't smell the salt water? Couldn't hear the ship around me moving? I feel so terribly out of touch, like a stranger in my own life. I’ve experienced being knocked unconscious before, I’ve experienced waking up in strange places before, but I always snuck out, always made my way back. Now I don't know what to do, and that in itself is the scariest feeling. Another version of me who is calm, calculated and perfect would have done something. Made up a plan, searched the room for something useful. She would have hidden somewhere, waiting for the boat to dock and then start over again. A perfect me would have done something other than cry and look at the sea that just ruined everything I had built for myself.

That was how Erika found me. Shaking, crying, violent. A weak and scared creature, trying to close her eyes and fall back to sleep.

Erika took me by the shoulders and led me towards the bed where I had woken up. She drew a blanket around my shoulders while she cooed at me. She gave me a glass of water and pulled a chair over to sit beside me. All the while she did this, I started feeling worse. Now I wasn't only frightened, I was also embarrassed. I just wanted to close my eyes again and wake up back in my own alleyway.

I suddenly wished that this was just another nightmare, then laughed through my sobs. My nightmares are strange, but they are not waking up at sea with no way back strange.

Erika notices my little sad laugh and takes the empty glass from my hands. “Are you feeling better now?”

I want to snap at her. Of course I am not feeling better, but somehow I can't find it in me to say so.

“A bit,” I mumbled.

“I am really sorry,” Erika said sincerely. “We don't usually do this.” She waved her hand around, indicating either the boat or the kidnapping.

“What do you do then?” I asked calmly, looking at her dark brown eyes.

“How am I to know, this is the first time I am on a mission to recruit a new Tethered.” She joked. I didn't smile.

“What does that word mean?”

“Tethered?” She paused. Thinking. “It's a kind of human. Like a witch. It's a person like me or Aiden or you.”

“I am not a witch.”

“No. But you are like one.” Erika began explaining. “Think of it like this: Every human can learn how to swim, how to draw, how to cook. Some are better than others, some are masters at one thing and some are a jack of all trades. Then imagine if their ability to learn skills were limitless. If they could learn how to control the fabric of the world, the laws of nature. That's what we are. We are Tethered to the core of the universe.”

For some reason I believed her. My intuition told me that Erika was being honest right now, but being honest right now is not the same as being an honest person. I didn’t have to trust her as a person even if I trusted her words. I knew there were secrets hidden behind her eyes, inside her hair, underneath her tongue.

“And you think that I am one of you?” I asked.

“I don't think. I know,” Erika replied without missing a beat.

“How come?”

“When doing superhuman things, we leave behind superhuman trails. A disturbance in the strings of the universe.”

“You’ve been tracking me with your witchcraft.”

“Yes. Since the first time you used your powers six years ago,” Erika stated like that wasn't creepy. “Which, by the way, is a new record. You managed to stay hidden from us for six years. Very impressive. We started betting on you three years ago. Some people thought you were so out of touch with your own powers, that you didn't use them enough for us to find you.”

“And what did you bet on?” I questioned.

“That you knew what you were doing, so much that you learned to cover up your tracks. Which I still believe. After all, I saw you turn invisible.”

“You did?” I asked in surprise.

Erika must have misunderstood my confusion. “Yes. Aiden and I saw you disappear into thin air the other day as soon as you saw us.”

“But I didn't.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I didn't turn invisible, I just tried to blend in and hide.”

“Oh.” Erika smiled. “You might be a bit more interesting than I thought.”

“I’m sorry?” I repeated after her, which made her laugh. I thought to myself that her laugh sounded like honey felt, then pushed that thought aside and blamed it on my deranged state.

The door opened and Aiden poked his head inside. He spoke in a language I didn't know, and Erika responded quickly and got up.

“Are you to be trusted?” Aiden asked me in English.

“Depends,” I answered honestly. “What were you speaking?”

“French; the language of love.” Someone hummed from behind Aiden. It was the same guy who had knocked me unconscious.

The two boys stepped fully into the room. Aiden either looked bored or pissed, maybe a bit of both. His ginger hair was cut short on the sides, and it made him look like a famous cartoon character that I couldn't remember the name of. He wore completely black clothes, the only spark of color being a red and yellow text on his shirt, saying “Bad Boy With a Tainted Heart”. He had silver earrings and a stud in his nose.

“Hey, we meet again!” The Baseball Bat man exclaimed. He wore a too-big letterman jacket in blue and gray colors, and underneath was a fuzzy, light gray sweater. His hair was fuzzy too, curling around his head like a brown helmet. My eyes very quickly landed and stayed on his eyebrows. They were formed like dark, bushy rectangles and were hard to miss. Underneath the bushes were a set of chilly gray eyes, then underneath those were his toothpaste-commercial smile with dimples on either side.

“Name’s Zeph” He smiled while giving me his hand to shake. I simply looked at it until he pulled it away with a sheepish grin. “Still sour about earlier? Im sorry ‘bout that, really.”

“You guys are apologizing a lot,” I stated.

“That’s because we are sorry,” said Erika.

There was a moment of silence. Zeph moved to the window and opened it. Aiden layed down on the ground, closing his eyes. Erika continued to sit by my bed.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“The base,” Zeph chirped. “Just you wait. You’ll love it there.”

“Is is filled with more maniacs?” I asked.

“Yes,” Aiden answered at the same time that Erika said “No.”

“Well, normal humans might think we are a bit strange, but I do think you’ll come to enjoy our company,” Erika elaborated.

I highly doubted her. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the odd one out. I had trouble relating to kids my age, to my parents or to anyone really. It always felt like I had missed the day when the other kids were taught how to socialize, how to have fun, how to be normal. I remember one day talking to a girl from my class, and she told me how sad she was that her dog died, and I just remember telling her that she’ll die one day too. Somehow that didn't seem to help her very much, even though it was the truth. I was the same around my parents, always snapping at them or ignoring them, until one day they weren't there and I couldn't find it in myself to miss them. That was maybe the first time I wanted to be like everyone else. I just wanted to cry and to grieve because that was what people did, but I just couldn't. I had to accept that I’d never feel like anyone else, but that I could pretend I did. The worst part is that I know this is an unhealthy coping mechanism, but I just can't stop doing it.

“Okay.” I answered Erika while getting up, then changing the topic. “Can I go to the deck, or am I confined to my room?”

Zeph laughed from the window. “Depends.”

The repeatment of my own words agitated me. I felt like Zeph didn't take me seriously, like I was a child.

“Thats a yes then,” I answered for myself and left before any of them could say something against me.

The air was cold outside, and a fog lay thick upon the waters. I couldn't see the outline of a city anymore, only water. A shiver ran down my spine as I took a hold of the metal railing. I hate to admit it, but I’ve never been out sailing in my entire life. After moving to Denmark, my mother decided she had had enough of traveling, and my father was happy to oblige. We stayed in the country every summer, and only traveled by car or train. The boat rocked slightly under my feet, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

I sat down on the deck and searched my pockets. I wasn't a frequent smoker, too afraid of becoming addicted, but sometimes I’d get a hold of a packet and keep them for when I really need to calm down. I can't remember how I started smoking, it just sort of happened. None of my parents had been smokers, so it wasn't a sentimental thing. Maybe I had acquired the habit from hanging out with other low-class teens, who had made a habit of taking drugs and drinking as a way to escape daily life. I had always been too scared of drugs, since I knew just how well they could fuck somebody over, and alcohol didn't seem very tempting because of the hangover that would come after drinking.

I lit my cigarette and tried to ignore the way the boat moved beneath me. I closed my eyes and tried to come up with a plan. I had to get a hold of my backpack, and I was sure that it was on the ship. I always knew from a gut feeling when my trusted backpack was close to me, but now Erika had implanted the thought that it might be more than just a gut feeling. I was still sceptical towards all of this magic-humans stuff, but it did provide answers to questions about myself, like how I had managed to stay out of the police’s grasp for so long.

Even though I was decidedly open minded towards the idea of magic, I knew that I wouldn't trust any of these people. I wouldn't let myself trust any of them. I could smell lies from a mile away, and these three people all stank. It made me wonder how many lies all of their friends had. I didn't intend to uncover their truths, I honestly didn't care about them, but I knew from experience that people who lie the most are also the most likely to spot one, and I was a living lie waiting to be found. I closed my eyes and inhaled another huff of smoke, trying to get a better look at the person I’d have to play. They would soon want to know how I had ended up homeless, and I suspected that was something I could give an honest answer to. Running away from bad foster homes was a common backstory amongst runaway teens, and it was one of the only truths I could give about myself without feeling like I was giving myself away. I couldn't tell them anything about my parents or all the things I had done while homeless.

In retrospect, sea sickness and cigarettes wasn't a good mix. I ended up hurling the little food I had in my stomach over the railing, then laying on the deck with my hands over my eyes to block out the strong light from the sun, my head pounding terribly.

“You dead?” Zeph asked me, with a cheer that rubbed me the wrong way. I hadn't heard him approach me, which irritated me. This was the fourth time one of the three had snuck up on me today. It was a clear pattern that I didn't like very much.

“Is that a wish?” I asked him, pulling myself together and getting up. I tried to ignore the way my stomach flipped, and gave him a cold look, which he returned with a smile.

“No” Zeph said. “It's a concern. Ever heard of those?” When I didn't answer, he continued. “Erika told me that you have been homeless for nearly five years. I know that people aren't friendly towards homeless people.”

There was the obvious trail to follow. He indicated that he might also have been homeless, and I could see it in the way he carded his hands through his hair that he wanted me to ask about it, but I had decided that I didn't want to get close to any of them.

“Is Erika the only stalker amongst you?” I asked him instead. “Or are all of you crazy?”

“This again? Come on, we explained why we tracked you,” Zeph told me with an amused smile on his lips. “But Erika was the one assigned to your case. Which, by the way, meant very much to her. It’s been ages since she was in charge of a mission, so please don't screw anything up.”

“I won't promise you anything,” I said, going over to the ladder that lead inside the boat where the cabin I had woken up in was. I looked over my shoulder at Zeph, who was leaning against the railing, the wind blowing through his curly hair. “Where’s my stuff?”

“I knew you’d ask that.” He grinned. “It's in the first cabin on your left. That’s also my cabin, by the way, if you ever feel lonely, you know where to find me.”

Zeph winked at me as I left, rolling my eyes at him. I didn't imagine that I’d ever want to talk to Zeph of my own coalition.

It was easy to find my stuff, and as soon as my hand closed around the strap I inhaled a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I took my things and ran into what I assumed was my cabin, sighing in relief at finding it empty. I closed the door and pushed the handle upwards and left, a trick I had learned that would lock most doors.

Emptying the contents of my bag was a relief. I rummaged through the mess, making sure no things were missing. I only had one extra set of clothes, but it was my passport, photobook and sim-card I was most worried about. My passport was essential for me if I wanted to leave Denmark, which seemed kind of pointless now. The sim-card was from my old phone, and it contained all my contacts from back when I was living with my parents. I had never been good at remembering numbers, and I had no use for a phone anymore, so I had only kept the sim-card, hiding it in a small, secret pocket of my backpack.

The photobook was the only sentimental thing I had allowed myself to keep. It was filled with pictures of me and my parents. I had since taking it also added photos of the few friends I had during school, and diary entries from the days I wanted to remember. In some of the pockets were letters my father had sent me after being deployed, in others were euros that my mother had kept. I kept jewelry in it too, though not much. Most of it was my mother’s, as I had never been the type to wear necklaces and earrings.

After checking my things and finding them all, I put everything back inside. The sun was going down and it reminded me of the tiredness I was feeling. I highly doubted that I would be able to fall asleep in the ship, but I didn't have anything better to do. I laid down, closed my eyes, and let my thoughts carry me away. <- Previous chapter // Next chapter -> Chapter index

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winedwords · 7 years

Text

Seven| Fade |Dunne

Title: Fade

Pairing; Past Trent Seven/Reader, Pete Dunne/Reader

Words; 2457

Summary; Now all I can do is say congratulations and fade into the background.

Warnings; Mildly NSFW. ANGST. Brief description of oral sex. Unhealthy coping methods. Minimal editing, because I will die like a boss. Drabble.

A/N: repost from the old blog

Why was I even here?

I had been standing alone outside the church for thirty minutes, trying to collect myself.

My hands were shaking and clammy. My head was filled with ghosts of another life. It felt like there was an iceberg in my stomach, chilling me to the bone. Every part of my body felt like it was filled with slowly drying cement.

It was going to start soon.

I thought I had put this all behind me. I thought I had left the feelings for him in my early twenties. We were ancient history, better off as friends he said. And maybe we were, but my feelings had apparently never died. They only went from being a roaring bonfire to a dull ember. I was too selfish to actually let him go, accepting the friendship he had offered as a pale substitute for what I wanted.

Then that delicate cream and ivory invitation had turned up in my mail, stuffed haphazardly between a Vogue magazine and my light bill.

And now five years later…

I was woken by the warmth of the sun on my face, the smell of brewing coffee, and the feel of his mouth on my core, beard scratching at the delicate flesh of my inner thighs. My back bowed involuntarily and my hands travelled down underneath the sheets to grasp at the long hair between my thighs. He chuckled, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through me and my heels digging into the mattress.

“Trent…”

I was knocked out of recollections of lazy Sunday mornings past by a small silver flask being pressed into my hand.

“The ceremony starts in ten. Figured you might want some liquid courage before you go to your seat.”

God fucking bless Zack Sabre Jr.

I glanced gratefully at him as I took the flask and worked the cap off of the silver container. He looked sharp, the tailored suit of a groomsman fitting his long form perfectly. Without asking what mystery liquor was in the flask, I tilted my head back and took three hard pulls, the liquid searing my esophagus.

Whiskey.

God, I was turning into a regular American country song.

I was silent for another moment, savoring the almost unpleasant burn of the alcohol, and wiping my lipstick from the mouth of the flask.

“You’re a treasure Zack. I appreciate this.”

The lanky man’s face was soft, his eyes understanding. I frowned at the look, shaking my head. I handed him the flask back and turning on my heel.

“Don’t. Let’s just get this thing done.”

The eyes of our friends and the bride and groom’s families were like lasers as I walked in to the church. The chatter went from a dull roar to a murmur, the sound of my heels clicking against the stone floors echoing through the chapel as I took a seat in a pew towards the back. The mother of the bride had barely concealed her sneer at my appearance.

Momma Seven though… It was her eyes that were the hardest to meet. Even from my seat to the rear of the church, I could see the subtle quiver of her chin and the suspicious brightness of her eyes. She gave me a watery smile with a discreet nod and it took everything I had to force back the tears I could feel burning at the back of my eyes.

I didn’t know if I could do this.

“I’ve never seen my boy like this with anyone. You must be something special.”

I smiled, flushing from the roots of my hair to my chest. “You raised an excellent man Mrs. Seven, I’m just lucky that he chose to spend some time with me.”

The older woman leaned in close, the delicate scent of her perfume tickling my nose, her hand clasping mine.

“I look forward to the day you become my daughter.”

I was forcibly jarred from memories of the past by the music starting to announce the entrance of the bridal party.

I turned to face the bridal party a beat after everyone, the whiskey dulling my response time by just a hair. I was thankful that Zack had provided me with the whiskey before the ceremony because facing the faces of friends from both the present and the past before the love of my life’s wedding was going to be rough.

Scurll.

Nods exhanged.

Andrews.

More nodding.

Sabre.

A small smile was met with a weak one of my own.

Dunne.

A barely concealed snarl? Curious.

Bate.

His arched brows were met with a glower.

Then there he was.

Trent.

He was perfection in his tuxedo, his chest puffed out with pride as he began to walk down the aisle. The grin on his face was a mile wide and he was glowing as he looked over the gathered assembly of his family and friends. Then our eyes locked for just a second and I could feel my skin heat and the hair raise on the back of my neck before Trent continued down the aisle. It was the sight of his back to me that dispelled the warmth his look had inspired in me, leaving me cold and my stomach roiling.

“I love you (Y/N), I always will…”

The opening keys of Here Comes the Bride and we all stood. She was radiant in all white, the delicate veil pulled over her face, and my heart sunk at the stony look in her eyes as she saw me. She knew all about who I was and what I used to be. That it could have been me instead of her. That she might have been me, sitting in the pew.

And just as quick as the stoniness appeared, it disappeared. She was all grace and polish as she practically floated down the aisle, her arm hooked with that of her father.

“But I’m not in love with you anymore.”

I tuned the opening remarks of the priest out, staring unblinkingly at a spot just beyond where the bride and groom were now holding hands and staring lovingly at each other. If I were to glance to them, even for just a moment, I don’t know if I could keep it together.

“ If anyone feels this couple should not be united in Holy Matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Tension tore through the chapel. Some people not so discreetly turned their heads in my direction and I steeled my eyes, my lips pursed. The bride herself had turned her head ever so slightly in my direction and Pete had clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

Time slowed.

I loved Trent. I loved him like a sailor loved the sea. I loved him like the sun loved the moon and the stars loved the sky. He was lazy Sundays spent in bed wrapped around each other. He was the dark, smoky nights in a pub, hunched over a beer with our thighs brushing against each other and hands clasped tightly together.

Trent was simultaneously this wild, passionate, all consuming love and steady, soft, comforting love. I respected him like one respects a force of nature and like one respects a healer.

A small, vocal part of me wanted to object loudly and vigorously. This was the little torch I still carried for him, five years later, that wanted to rage and riot and do everything in its power to convince Trent that he was making a mistake, that we still belonged together, that I wasn’t just a friend.

He’d made his choice.

And that choice wasn’t me.

I stayed silent, my eyes firmly on my shaking hands, and just as quickly as it came, the moment passed. The priest seemed to let out a breath of relief, before continuing on.

Pete’s heated eyes didn’t move from my form, the look on his face unreadable.

I owed Zack. The whiskey had been drunk on an empty stomach and the pleasant buzz in my veins had made a ceremony that should have left me broken and sobbing pass in a blur. I was still helpless to the way my breath hitched and my body seized when the priest announced them man and wife.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Trent, that sap, grabbed his new bride and dipped her into a deep, borderline inappropriate kiss.

He wasn’t mine anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time.

There had been a little bit of hope for that little candle I still carried for him. But now?

Trent Seven belonged to someone else.

Mamma Seven had come by the apartment I had shared with Trent before… everything fell apart.

I was just coming down the stairs, another box in my arms to load up into my little car. I’d seen her approaching and I tried to walk faster to avoid what was coming.

“(Y/N)?”

My shoulder shuddered, but I kept going.

For an older woman, she was fast and she had caught me by my elbow. I turned to look at her, my vision bleary from unshed tears.

“Oh sweetheart I am so sorry.”

It was when she wrapped me into a warm embrace that a wet sob wracked through my body.

“I told ‘im to not do it, y'know.”

I had been essentially hiding on the outskirts of the reception, sipping on my third Jack and ginger, waiting for an appropriate time to say my congratulations and goodbyes and leave. If I was going to be the most miserable person at this party, I was going to at least take advantage of the open bar. Pete, who had spoken was to my left, his expression inscrutable.

“Told him to not do what?”

I took a long pull from my drink, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to go and keeping my gaze away from his sharp face. If the younger man was going to bring up what should be ancient, buried history, I’d need something to make the dull the ache in my chest.

“I told ‘im not to send ya an invitation. Told ‘im it was fucked up.”

I snorted, shaking my head a little too long before sipping again at the near empty drink.

“We’re just friends, Peter. We’ve been just friends for a very, very long time.”

His laugh was condescending and harsh, head shaking. I glowered at him, as he took a sip of his own dark beverage. The smirk on his face made me want to hit him with something heavy.

“Yeah, darlin’ yer not foolin’ me. What ya feel towards Trent is the furthest thing from fuckin’ just friends.”

My knuckles were white from gripping the tumbler as hard as I was. I had to grit my teeth and employ every bit of willpower I had in my repertoire to keep from flinging the glass into his face. Pete’s smirk widened by just a fraction at my silence, leaning in much closer to me, his gray eyes darker than charcoal and almost predatory. Some primal portion of my psyche was very, very responsive to his body language and the way he was looking at me.

“If ya need it, ya can use me (Y/N). Ta get Trent out of your system. What he asked ya ta do was fucked and ya don’t deserve that. Ya can take it out on me. Ya might even enjoy it, I know I would.”

My cheeks filled with color at his words in a way that could be misconstrued as embarrassment or anger, but the way my thighs clenched involuntarily. I had been with other men since Trent, sure, but there was something about Pete…

“Put your money where your mouth is Peter.”

He looked triumphant as he stood, an arm proffered to me to bid our goodbyes to the bride and the groom.

I was guided by him to the table on the dais where the bride and groom were holding court over the reception with the bridal party.

“I’m gonna take off Trent. Congratulations.”

My smile was so much more confident than I actually felt, but the whiskey provided a false light to my eyes.

Trent’s face was soft and warm as he stood to hug me.

Fuck he even smelled the same as he did back then. The embrace was a long one, so much so that I could feel his bride shifting next to him.

“Thank you for coming, (Y/N). It really means a lot to me that you were here.”

I could feel my eyes going glassy and I had to blink rapidly to prevent them from filling.

“Anything for you Trent. I wish to you all the love and happiness in the world.”

His arms dropped away from around me, leaving me cold.

Pete’s jaw was tightened again, his eyes dark with something that most definitely was not the predatory lust from just moments earlier. He nodded his farewell to the bride and the groom as I spoke to the new Mrs. Seven.

“You looked beautiful. Treat him well would you?”

She nodded stiffly, her smile wooden and eyes sharp with distaste. Not that I could blame her.

Pete was practically glued to my side as we said our goodbyes to other friends. Mama Seven seized me into a firm hug and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek.

“Take your happiness where you can find it, (Y/N). You’re allowed to be happy.”

We turned to leave.

I didn’t see the steely glare that Trent sent to Pete, who had only responded with a victorious baring of his teeth.

I didn’t see Trent’s clenched fists as I left with the younger man’s thick arm draped dangerously low across my hips. I didn’t see Mamma Seven place a hand on the newly married man’s arm, her look stern and fiery. I didn’t hear her murmured words.

“You don’t get to have that feeling anymore, Trent. You made the decision.”

I did catch Zack’s disappointed stare and sober me would spend entirely too long dissecting that look and the consequences of my decisions.

I was going to lose myself in Pete and I was going to leave Trent and everything I had ever felt for him here at the reception hall.

The cab ride back to Pete’s flat was spent in his lap, the kisses feverish and desperate, the windows fogging. The cabby had grumbled about horny kids and Pete had just barked back to “Drive, old man.” before returning his mouth to mine, a hand disappearing up the hem of my dress.

If that took just one night or multiple nights, Pete had made clear that he was game for however long I would have him.

Maybe… just maybe.

#trent seven imagine #trent seven fic #pete dunne imagine #pete dunne fic #repost from the old blog

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