#even ignoring The Ending And What That Implies

[rafes-slut]

Could you do a smut/angst with Reader/Rafe. They're about to get it on in bed. She's been trying to keep it emotionless (even though they are dating) because she's been hurt in the past, so while they are dating and she's kind etc, she still keeps an emotional distance somewhat. Rafe tells her that he loves her but she ignores it, trying to just keep going and tries to make it less intimate, like avoiding eye contact and not kissing, but he keeps trying (in a green flag healthy way, not like forcing her or anything obviously) but he wants to be intimate fully if that makes sense

Hope you will like it x

Break Down These Walls

Warnings: angst, emotional vulnerability, trauma mention (past relationship wounds), soft/green flag Rafe, slow and intimate moments, praise, lots of kissing, implied aftercare.

The room is dimly lit, shadows flickering against the walls as the scent of Rafe’s cologne fills the air. The bed beneath you dips as he hovers over you, lips brushing against yours in a slow, teasing way that would normally make you melt. His fingers trail along your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, but you don’t react—not fully.

You’ve been here before. Not just with him, but in general. And every time, it’s the same. You keep it surface-level, physical, something that doesn’t require you to feel too much. Because feeling means vulnerability, and you don’t do that. Not anymore.

But Rafe? He makes it hard.

His mouth moves down your jaw, pressing kisses to your neck, his hands skimming your sides. His body is warm against yours, but you keep yourself rigid, eyes locked on the ceiling instead of on him.

“Look at me,” Rafe murmurs, voice rough but gentle.

You don’t. Instead, you shift beneath him, fingers curling into his shirt as you pull it over his head, keeping your movements calculated—detached. His eyes search yours, and you feel it, the way he’s waiting for something you can’t bring yourself to give.

So you push forward, tilting your chin up so that your lips meet his again, except this time, you don’t really kiss him. It’s a press, a means to an end, not something intimate. You don’t let it be.

Rafe pulls back slightly, brows furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, feigning innocence as you move your hands to his belt, trying to keep things moving. If you don’t stop, if you don’t give him a chance to say something, maybe he’ll let it go.

But Rafe doesn’t just let things go.

He catches your wrists, halting your movements. “You’re doing it again.”

Your stomach twists. “Doing what?”

“Shutting me out.” His voice is softer now, careful. “I told you I love you, and you didn’t even blink.”

You swallow hard, avoiding his gaze. “I just—I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” He leans closer, his nose nearly brushing yours, trying to get you to meet his eyes. When you don’t, his hands move, cupping your face, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones. “Baby, it’s me. You don’t have to do this with me.”

Your chest tightens. You want to pull away, to shake your head and keep going, pretend like you didn’t hear him. But he’s right there, warm and real, looking at you like he actually cares.

Like he actually means it.

“I just don’t want to get hurt,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. It’s the first time you’ve said anything like it out loud. “I can’t—”

“You won’t.” He says it so easily, like it’s a fact. “I don’t want just this. I want you—all of you. And I know you want that too, even if you’re scared.”

His lips graze your forehead, slow and lingering. When you don’t flinch, he presses another to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then, finally, he brings his mouth back to yours, not forcefully, not rushed. He just waits.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. You could keep ignoring it, keep pretending like this is just another night, another moment that doesn’t mean anything.

Or you could try.

So you kiss him back. Properly, this time.

His lips mold against yours in a way that’s unfamiliar—not because you’ve never kissed him before, but because you’ve never actually let yourself feel it. His hands stay cradling your face, keeping you there, but not trapping you. He’s letting you set the pace, and for the first time, you don’t try to rush through it.

Rafe sighs into your mouth, like he’s been waiting for this—for you—to just let him in. His thumbs stroke slow, reassuring patterns against your skin, grounding you in a way that makes your head spin.

You don’t know how long you kiss him for. Time feels different when you’re not actively trying to block everything out.

Then he shifts, pressing you further into the mattress, his body flush against yours. His mouth parts from yours only to drag along your jaw, down the side of your throat, lingering in places he knows make you shiver. This time, you do shiver, and he smiles against your skin.

“There she is,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your fingers gripping his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin just to anchor yourself. You feel too much, and it’s overwhelming—but not in a bad way. You’ve just never let yourself have this.

His hands roam down, slow and deliberate, like he’s learning every inch of you for the first time. Even though he isn’t. You’ve been with him before, plenty of times. But this feels different. Because it is different.

His lips trail lower, ghosting over your collarbone as his fingers slip under your shirt. You let him pull it off, and this time, when he looks at you, you don’t turn away.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, almost in awe, like he’s seeing you for the first time, too.

Your stomach tightens. You want to deflect, make a joke, brush it off—but you don’t. Instead, you reach for him, guiding him back to you, letting his mouth meet yours again.

It’s slower now. Intimate. Real.

His hands explore, mapping every dip and curve of your body, but it’s not just about the physical touch—it’s about the way he makes you feel safe. The way he makes you feel like you don’t have to keep running from this, from him.

[pricegouge]

an increase of interest and sweet, encouraging asks and also these posts (i, ii) have led me to do the unthinkable: write a little extracurricular for haul, can you even believe it?

went in a bit of a different direction here. i've gotten a lot of asks about past victims and while i don't really wanna get too bogged down in the specifics of their time with the boys, i thought it might be fun to see how different price is from simon when he's hunting so. here's a different doll not knowing what's good for her.

cw: prostitution, coercion, kidnapping. implied murder. unedited cause i'm freaking out to be touching this again lmao. MDNI

You know something's wrong with him. Beyond the pale, beyond the knowledge you could never introduce him to your mother. That you're used to, well-versed at. It's something worse, something unsettling. something that clings to you long after he leaves, the very cells he sheds infecting, spreading.

Within and without.

You'll be like on of his soon if you're not careful - that pack of rabid dogs that follow him. It disturbs you, how easily you can see yourself among them sometimes, glinting eyes and too-sharp teeth. One more desert predator, runt of the pack and yet a par of it.

Better never to know. Better to leave it like this - small doses. Better to let him fuck you in a truck stop shower so you can scrub yourself clean after, pretend you remain unchanged by him. Ignore all the evidence suggesting otherwise, the undeniable ache and the trail of come he always leaves to trickle down your thigh.

You should know better, but it's hard to remember when his thick cock is driving up into you in one slow drag, splitting you open cruelly just to hear you cry about it.

He like them, your tears. Too much, probably, but you like the drag of his tongue on your cheek too, hot even in the tepid spray of hard water. You feel the rough scrape of his beard at your temple and wonder - is he actually infectious, or were you always predisposed? Was this something you were always capable of? Letting a customer add your services to their tab? Take you out back with their to-go bags and their travel-sized toiletries? You like to think nit, like to blame John and that strange quality of his, the way he can somehow manage to make you feel less-than and wanted for it all at once, sells you some unspoken promise of betterment if you just play along.

You sweat you know better, but you've said that before. It's how you wind up back here, always back here, his bulging bicep wrapped around your throat as he grunts in your ear.

He's pressed against your back as closely as he can be, so tight you imagine the runoff can't even slip between you. But that can't be right because he's slick against you, streams of soap finding their way down your spine through the follicles of his thick chest hair, coating your skin to let him work against you in slick, slow grinds. You can feel his belly settled against the small of your back, forcing you to arch your spine just so, let him fuck in deep to the very end of you, cock head leaking against your cervix.

He'd asked you if you were on some sort of contraceptive once, much too late for it to have mattered. You'd told yourself you wouldn't take his money again when you'd caught the look of disappointment on his face, but you'd told yourself a lot of things.

It's hard to feel shame, in the moment, at least. And maybe that's the worst part - the fact that you ache for him when he's away. Empty, hungry. But if there's something wrong with him that means there's something wrong with you, right? That means the long nights spent with your fingers stuffed in your cunt just wishing for something thicker are just as bad as this: bellied up against a dirty shower stall with a strange man's cock buried so deep inside you you're sure it'll take this time, that seed of doubt that makes you want to climb in his truck when he inevitable offers. Why settle for lot lizard when you could just be his?

Of course, he never phrases it like that, never admits he'll keep you. And maybe he won't but he'd take you Arkansas, maybe, where his plates are from. North, where he's headed tonight perhaps. Usually you see him returning form out West and you wonder… He doesn't have to keep you. You don't need to hear him say it. Cause whatever's wrong with him, it's catching.

But he doesn't ask, not when he's still panting like a bellows in your ear, rocking his hips against you aimlessly as he works you both through it. He doesn't ask when he slips free and immediately cups his callused palm against your cunt, groaning when he feels his own spend leaking onto his hand. He certainly doesn't ask when he makes you lick it clean, salt and the heavy tang of grease which Irish Springs will never fully cut through. You think maybe he'll ask when he goes to shove the money in your hand, as is his usual. But he doesn't, so you do, your own stomach acid boiling up your esophagus as you try (and fail) to keep the desperate edge out of your voice.

And John, well. You did know there was something wrong with him.

"What's is to you?" he grunts, hand snapping back out of your reach when you go to take the proffered money.

"But… you said -?"

"Know what I said. Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothes, a balm for the fear you hadn't even been able to voice. "Just… maybe it'll look different now?"

"How do you mean?" you hedge, and John steps closer, blots out the flickering overhead light. Behind him, the door to the shower room opens and rapidly closes, the soft pad of boots treading back down the hall confirming your would-be voyeur had wanted nothing to do with this scene.

At least your reputation remained undamaged.

"I mean. I'll keep you fed. Clothed. Keep you out of the elements. You really gonna make me pay on top of all that?"

"Oh," you wilt. "I guess not."

John's eyes crinkle when he grins at you encouragingly, that same deceptively endearing quality that had first drawn you to him all those months ago. He pulls you against himself, lets you bask in the warmth of his soft, furry chest as he continues to soothe your fears. "But don't worry, not gonna let you put yourself in a bind, hm? You still got something saved from my last visit, yeah? And if you ever need some more, we'll find you some work." He swats you on the ass before you can protest, leaning away to collect his flannel. "Now get dressed. Running behind schedule and I'm already gonna have to skip a stop in Oakley."

"That why you didn't take the time to stretch me open properly?" you ask, cheeky - testing your boundaries. You're pleasantly surprised when he just huffs a laugh, leans close to grown in your ear about how he'll never have to stretch you open again.

It's surreal following him out, ducking behind his broad frame to let him weather the stare of the would-be voyeur. John doesn't flinch so neither do you, head back to your post behind the till with the same confidence you've seen among his boys. A runt still maybe, but part of the pack now.

"Where're you off to?" John asks when he sees you slinking off in the wrong direction. You wait until the other driver disappears down the hall to unlock the register, grinning at your partner as you lift a few hundred from it.

"I know what 'some work' means," you say by way of explanation, and frown when it fails to earn any sign of chastisement.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, love," John warns instead, eyes rolling warily to the overhead security camera.

You wave him off, a loose fiver fluttering free of your fist. "Take this," you order, shoving the hills into his chest. More spill free but the ducks to collect them as you pull up the feed on the laptop behind the counter. "Retired truckers don't know much about security," you impart wisely.

"That so?" he drawls, voice rich with a humor you don't quite understand.

"Yeah, word to the wise - always have a live feed backed up to a separate, private location." to illustrate the importance of this, you cut the feed and then proceed to delete all evidence of the night's recording. It won't stop Roy, the owner, from knowing who's shift if was but it would keep John safe from all but that other driver who apparently already knew enough to keep his head down any way.

When you peel yourself away from the screen, John's eyeing you with a sort of appreciation that makes your tummy flip, a low simmer of excitement building just there, just where you feel him most when he's inside you. Infecting. Spreading. "Clever doll, you are," he praises as you step back around the counter. He hands you your loot back, now properly shuffled into a neat stack. "I'll have to remember that. Now go on out to your car and get what you need. I'll just be a minute, he says, nodding to a display of beef jerky like there's nothing of more value to him in the whole store.

It seems to take him forever deciding, but when he comes back the other trucker still hasn't left.

[bwat5-blog]

Let's Chat: Caitlyn Kiramman

**DISCUSSION AND RESPONSE TO ARCANE SO SPOLIER WARNING**

**LONG POST NOT KIDDING**

@xxbrightshadowxx

Happy March Third to you my fellow Arcane fan. It is quite obvious to anyone with a pulse that we are on far opposite ends of the spectrum of the fandom. That being said, you have made a fairly large amount of posts I've considered responding to, and I find this a much cleaner way of responding than all this re-blogging and commenting nonsense.

As it is clearly an issue for you, and I feel quite differently, we are gonna talk Caitlyn Kiramman. And as you identify yourself as "the biggest hater" I feel confident you won't mind a bit of friendly discourse. Since there is no efficient way to respond to multiple posts in one re-blog, each title in bold blue lettering will link directly to your post in question.

Recent Post Regarding Caitlyn Stans

So this of course is your most recent post I believe:

"I think the thing I hate the most about Caitlyn is her stans"

I don't have too much to say here as you are entitled to your opinions and this post is really just that. You don't feel Caitlyn was well executed as a morally grey character, you don't feel Caitlyn fans admit her mistakes, that is all within your rights. Really the only thing I will say is that as a fan of Caitlyn's character and of she and Vi's relationship, it has become increasingly difficult to spend any time discussing her wrong-doing with any detail or nuance, because so much of the rhetoric around her is completely out of control and false.

Comparing Violence In Timebomb VS Violence In Caitvi

So in this post you are comparing your criticism of violence between Ekko and Jinx during their fight on the bridge, against your criticism of violence between Caitlyn and Vi after fight against Jinx & Sevika. Speaking for myself, I am not sure why anyone would be comparing these incidents at all. They are totally different. However, I wanted to point something regarding your approach to this post.

Let's look at the amount of detail and context you include regarding Ekko & Jinx:

"Ekko and Jinx were on opposite sides of a conflict"- You go on to elaborate and explain well.

"Jinx was already known at that time to kill firelights, why would they like eachother? (for sake of honesty you wrote "why would they not" but I feel like the typo and your meaning was very clear, happens to me all the time) And with the situation on the bridge, Jinx killed a lot of enforcers. they were already in a situation of violence".

"They weren't in a romantic relationship".

"They weren't on good terms".

This is well done. You give their current status with each-other, the context for the immediate events that lead them here, a bit of their history and so on. Hardly a deep dive, but I feel like I have a good sense of where Jinx and Ekko are as characters in relation to each other.

Now let's look at your depiction of the leadup to the incident between Caitlyn & Vi:

"They kiss which basically establishes they like each other a lot"

"They were on good terms with each-other and were allies".

"They were working together to take down Jinx".

Okay all good so far I agree to each point even if we are not discussing of the complexity of what is going on between them. I cannot disagree with any of these points. But. Now we get into your list of circumstances leading to Caitlyn hitting Vi:

"Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting at Jinx when there was a moving child on top of her because shooting a weapon when there is a child nearby especially if said shooter is not in the best mindset is not a good idea".

"They (Sevika, Caitlyn and Isha) escape". (Clearly you meant Jinx, no harm no foul)

"Caitlyn insults Vi by saying she's just like the rest of Zaun and isn't different (which is also very ignorant by implying that the norm is bad and evil Zaunites and Vi is some exception to this norm) also saying it's her (Jinx) blood in your veins".

"She walks away and Vi grabs Caitlyn and asks why are you the one acting like her".

"Eight seconds pass before Caitlyn hits Vi in the stomach with her gun, before leaving her alone".

You then give your wrap-up comments regarding the incident:

Recap that they were on good terms and kissed before the fight

"The Violence had already wound down"- You elaborate on Jinx and friends already being gone and that it was no longer life or death.

You make a point showing Vi wasn't going to hit Caitlyn, elaborating that it was not a fight, but assault

"The show never acknowledges this"

"Caitlyn never apologizes for hitting Vi or leaving her. They just move straight to sex"

RESPONSE:

Alrighty. so in summary, you have presented the incident between Caitlyn and Vi as something like this-

A happy couple working together to catch Jinx get into a fight with Jinx and Sevika. Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting because it endangered a kid. So Caitlyn insults Vi, shows anti-zaun prejudice, then assaults Vi for no reason.

There are several things I'd say matter regarding this incident going into it that you did not mention. And while their exclusion does paint Caitlyn as a mean and spoiled rich girl who assaulted Vi for not getting what she wanted, it is incorrect in its entirety.

Caitlyn's Mental State-

I feel it is only reasonable to consider the impact of the long and unmentioned list of violent trauma Caitlyn has experienced over a very short period leading to this incident. After all, when we discuss the incident and its aftermath how could such things not matter? To that end, fortunately I recently prepared a time-stamped list of the relevant information on another post that covers all of the traumatic incidents needed-

Lured along with several other Enforcers to a burning building with a fake child's voice by Jinx shortly before she blows it up. She is the only survivor: S1 E4 13:29- Sequence begins

Shoots Sevika repeatedly to save Vi's life. More than likely the first time she has ever discharged her weapon at a living person. It doesn't matter the reason or justification, violence impacts you emotionally. S1 E5 5:28- Sequence begins

Survives escaping Silco and his addict/goons deep in the undercity including dodging a collapsing building. S1 E6 13:16- Sequence begins

Meets Jinx for the first time. Has weapon pointed at her. Then survives fight with Firelights. S1 E6 7:05- Sequence begins

Leader of The Enforcers shoots Ekko, and is about to shoot her while several of her peers stand and watch. Shortly after Jinx blows up the bridge, killing almost everyone, then attacks Caitlyn & Vi both intentionally trying to kill them.S1 E7 10:41- Sequence begins

Kidnapped by Jinx from the shower of her childhood home. She is nude at the time. At some point Jinx makes her dress in Enforcer uniform. S1 E8 4:35- Sequence begins *It seems like recent sources from the artbook confirm Jinx held Caitlyn for an entire day but I don't have that in front of me to confirm so we can call it speculation*

She is held bound and gagged and forced to participate in Jinx's Dinner Party: S1 E9 12:55- Sequence begins

- Listens to Jinx try and convince Vi to murder her - Manages to get free and has a gun on Jinx. Spares her at Vi's urging and gets knocked out - Jinx kills Caitlyn's mother, two other councilors, maims 2 others, and destroys the council chamber

8. Survives attack on her mother and other councilor's memorial by Zaun: S2 E1 16:26- Sequence begins

9. Survives operation of Task Force into Zaun: S2 E3 beginning of episode:

Now I know what you are probably thinking. But As I said earlier we need to remember that violence leaves a mark on you. We aren't talking fault or any of that right now. I'm just talking what state of mind is she in. So I'm sure reasonably you can see how at the very least a few days of urban combat would be raising her stress, aggression, fear and all of that.

10. Survives events of Ventilation chamber: S2 E3 18:51 sequence begins

- Survives fight with Sevika - After holding her shot for Vi the first time, Vi blocks her shot the second time and she is denied what she sees as justice (again, just suspend judgement and try to only think of impact on her state of mind)

That, is a tremendous amount of violence and death in a relatively short amount of time. Now, I don't know about you. But to me, that all seems like it may impact a persons behavior and decision making until they have time to heal and to grieve properly.

Conclusion- Mentally and emotionally Caitlyn is totally destroyed having had no time or opportunity to heal from a long series of violent, destabilizing, and immensely traumatic events.

Caitlyn & Jinx-

So the last list was more comprehensive, but we also need to discuss Caitlyn & Jinx. Why? I mean Jinx is what this all boils down to. She's the monster in Caitlyn's mind. She discusses it with Jayce, and we see it when the strike team attacks the arcade and Caitlyn shoots at what she thinks is Jinx in a wide-eyed and manic state. I'm not going to re-list everything but just think about it.

Jinx has almost killed Caitlyn repeatedly, she killed several Enforcers Caitlyn knew as people. She abducted Caitlyn naked from her home. Caitlyn spared her and Jinx killed her mother. Hate Caitlyn, call her every name in the book, label her anything you please. But if you are discussing and acting in good faith, these facts are not in dispute.

Conclusion- Caitlyn is going into this facing down someone she is very likely terrified of, and hates with all of her heart.

Caitlyn & Vi-

As you correctly point out Caitlyn and Vi are romantically linked and working together in their pursuit of Jinx. However, there is some helpful context when analyzing this situation I think should be considered:

Jinx is Vi's little sister.

Caitlyn had Jinx at gun point and did not fire because Vi begged her. Then Jinx killed her mother.

Caitlyn asked Vi to wear the enforcer badge being honest about her fear, and Vi said yes willingly. But the Enforcers still killed Vi's parents.

Before their first kiss that you mention, we see Caitlyn being uncharacteristically aggressive with an unarmed Heenot. It is bad enough to the point that Vi takes her aside and after asking to dismiss the other team members, tearfully asks Caitlyn to promise she won't change.

Vi tells to Caitlyn she is ready for it all to end, and tells Caitlyn to take the shot if she gets the chance.

Conclusion- Caitlyn and Vi go after Jinx with the both of them knowing Vi begged Caitlyn to show mercy and now Caitlyn's mother is dead, and that Vi is wearing the badge of her parents killers to try and make things right. Caitlyn is clearly losing herself to the violence and anger of everything going on, and before the confrontation Vi tells Caitlyn she knows it has to end. Not exactly simple or casual.

The Incident Itself:

So the fight goes down, and as you said it eventually comes down to Caitlyn demanding that Vi move while Vi refused to do so due to the danger to Isha. You do make a point of mentioning the shooter (Caitlyn) not being in the best mental state (which I think we have established is like saying its a tad windy in the middle of a tornado), and then we move to the aftermath where it goes down like you describe:

Caitlyn is upset with Vi for blocking the shot

Vi insists she shouldn't have had to stop Caitlyn due to the danger to the child

Caitlyn states that she thought Vi was different but she isn't. "It's her blood in your veins":

Stopping here for a moment. This was not a statement of prejudice against Zaun. She is comparing Vi to Jinx, not all of the Undercity. I can back this up with the following points:

The entire quote (S2 E3 begins 10:47) "I keep telling myself that you're different. But you're not. It's her blood in your veins".

This is quite clearly one continuing statement from Caitlyn. She specifically compares Vi to Jinx. Not to Zaunites or anyone else. Just Jinx.

Vi then responds (S2 E3 10:39) "Then why are you the one acting like her?".

This entire thing is all centered around Jinx in the dialogue and obviously linked narratively. It isn't about Zaunites in general.

4. I covered Vi's response above so from there, Vi grabs Caitlyn as she is leaving, shifts her grip to a less aggressive place, then after several seconds Caitlyn hits her.

5. Caitlyn shows clear regret before leaving:

Overall conclusion for the incident itself:

As I said, this is the overall picture you give of this incident with the amount of context and detail you included:

A happy couple working together to catch Jinx get into a fight with Jinx and Sevika. Vi stops Caitlyn from shooting because it endangered a kid. So Caitlyn insults Vi, shows anti-zaun prejudice, then assaults Vi for no reason.

But when you actually take the entire picture into account, this wildly differs from the actual events of the show.

Caitlyn is dealing with ENORMOUS amount of unresolved trauma

Jinx is the central focus of Caitlyn's rage and fear

Vi and Caitlyn care for each-other deeply, but between them is:

A- Vi being Jinx's older sister B- Vi begged Caitlyn for Jinx's life and Jinx killed Caitlyn's mother C- Enforcers killed Vi's parents and Caitlyn asked her to put on the badge D- Their first kiss is in the wake of Vi being afraid of how Caitlyn is changing from all of the violence and death around them

Caitlyn is clearly out of control when Vi is trying to stop her from shooting-

A- Caitlyn fires twice with Vi in the way even striking her gauntlet once B- Caitlyn just keeps saying the same thing over and over "Move.. She's not getting away again!"

As far as the dialogue only goes they both say something terrible in the aftermath-

A- Caitlyn tells Vi she is no different than Jinx. Knowing the guilt and horror Vi feels over what her sister has become. The guilt over Caitlyn's mother. And that Vi put on the badge to follow her on this mission. B- Vi tells Caitlyn she is acting like Jinx. Knowing full well Jinx almost killed Caitlyn repeatedly. Abducted her. And killed her mother

Not that it excuses or makes it okay. But Caitlyn shows clear remorse after hitting Vi.

Wrap Up:

Please understand, this is not about saying it was okay for Caitlyn to hit Vi. Far from. But as I said in response to that first post, we can't even get to that because of situations like this. The unfortunately simplistic version of events you provided completely misrepresents what actually occurred. It isn't about justification. Caitlyn hitting Vi cannot be justified. But it is about proper understanding based on what actually occurred. And not excluding or simplifying things to serve the purpose of demonizing her beyond what is reasonable. Let's take a look at your wrap up points-

1. Recap that they were on good terms and kissed before the fight Caitlyn growing steadily more angry and violent while dynamic between she and Vi was extremely complex 2. "The Violence had already wound down"- You elaborate on Jinx and friends already being gone and that it was no longer life or death. True the fight was over. But Caitlyn was still operating at a ten emotionally and mentally, it takes time for you to come down from that state.

3. You make a point showing Vi wasn't going to hit Caitlyn, elaborating that it was not a fight, but assault

Totally agree, not sure where this is coming from, I guess some people have suggested it or something?

4. "The show never acknowledges this"

Just because you don't consider it enough doesn't mean it didn't happen 5. "Caitlyn never apologizes for hitting Vi or leaving her. They just move straight to sex"

Caitlyn makes amends repeatedly through her deeds rather than her words:

Helps to save Vander

When Vi is wounded and Jinx is exposed she doesn't even look at Jinx, runs to save Vi instead

Keeps Jinx in the bunker rather than Stillwater, and holds off on any judgement until Vi is awake even though she could have taken her revenge and no one in Piltover would have cared

Moves the guards away so Vi can free Jinx if she chooses. Even knowing Vi may leave and Caitlyn would never see her again

*VI initiated their sex scene. Caitlyn even interrupted to make sure she was honest about Maddie*

Your last line asks the following question: "You see why this leaves a bad impression?"

My answer is yes. But it is one born of a gross over-simplification of the events leading to this moment and exclusion of anything challenging the clear anti-Caitlyn bias in your writing.

Comparing Season One Caitlyn Against Season Two

Alrighty last one I promise. So this whole post comparing your feelings about Caitlyn in season 1 to season 2. Fairly cut and dry in terms of concept. Lets look at some things you acknowledge about Caitlyn in season 1:

"Shes genuine. I never once doubted in season 1 that she had good intentions"

"She believed in justice and was ignorant to the system that pushes her family forward while pushing others down and when she's confronted with this she's defensive about it"

"Her arc is learning about the oppression the system Piltover installed was bad and wanted change to help those in the undercity"

You then acknowledge her arc did not complete in season one and that you and many others expectation was to see she and Vi forge a new path for Piltover. So lets look at your observations regarding Caitlyn in season two:

"Caitlyn looses her mom and bam, facism and dictatorship!"

"We can't let the privileged girl face consequences!"

"Grief is not an excuse for what she did"

"She gassed and used nuclear warfare against the defenseless in Zaun"

"What she and Jinx did were two different things" you clarify below:

- "Jinx did what she did because of the oppression of Topside. Everything happened because of the class problems of Piltover" - "But Caitlyn? Yes loosing a parent figure is bad, but Caitlyn proved that those were anti topside: Jinx, Sevika, and Silco were right. The police brutality, the abuse of power, the gassing the city, everything".

6. "She gets no consequences. No, her loosing an eye wasn't a consequence for her becoming a dictator. That happened because she betrayed Ambessa. And even if it was, loosing an eye is not equal to what she did. Caitlyn got to walk away scot free. She got to go back to her mansion with Vi"

Response:

Okay, first off lets get this clarified. What you observed about the hard swing in Caitlyn's trajectory was correct. It was also the point. We already listed the long list of things that happen to Caitlyn piling up higher and higher that lead to her breaking point. Then this happens. So yes, her season two arc swings hard from what we were expecting. I suspect if you were almost murdered repeatedly, abducted, spared the woman who did those things and then watched her kill your mother you might also have some chaotic emotions and mental health for a while.

Now to keep things simple lets just go point by point, so my number 1 corresponds with your number 1 regarding season 2. Pretty simple.

1. Well as we have stated now in full and fleshed out detail there is immensely more to it than losing her mother. You make no mention of the manipulations and actions of Ambessa Medarda in Caitlyn's arc but I'm not detailing all of that. This is already too long. I'll link those docs at the end should you want to read them. It should also be noted Caitlyn is neither a fascist or a dictator. The elite of Piltover agree to declare Martial Law, and they agree to Caitlyn as commander. We can do the whole technical definition of both if you really need me to but I don't think that's needed right now. 2. Caitlyn faces a variety of consequences but you repeat yourself so I'll say more for number 6

3. Agreed. Grief is no excuse. As we have now shown conclusively, it goes so far beyond just grief. But also as we have discussed it is not about excusing anything. It is about understanding. And there can be no understanding as long as we are unwilling to look at her story honestly.

4. Regarding the nuclear warfare comment I apologize. I'm not meaning to be rude, but I have absolutely no clue what you are referencing and therefore cannot give that a thorough response. Regarding the gas, no she didn't. They used The Grey targeting the chem-barons and their soldiers. This was confirmed by Amanda Overton (who I know many of you disregard, but she was one of the creators like it or not), and there is no evidence to the contrary. This does include clearing the area of civilians to keep them out of the fighting. While it is true anything gas based cannot be absolutely contained, there is a tremendous difference between being specific and controlled in their use, versus just letting it loose all over. The imagery showing people running in the streets is from two sources: A- Cassandra Kiramman's files when Caitlyn is learning about The Grey: It's clearly old, with a faded old parchment sort of look to it. The building and the clothes are all different as well. B- The hellfire video- Let's actually look at this:

"We used The Grey to clear the streets! To keep people safe!"

Sound familiar? That's what Vi tells Jinx. You may notice those people are up, and running. They aren't on their backs choking. They are hunting armed criminals with access to Shimmer, and a terrorist who likes to blow things up. Clearing the area seems prudent.

And in case you have seen any of those posts regarding the "scenes they deleted to make Caitlyn look better" Hellfire isn't a pro-Caitlyn propaganda moment in the show. They aren't glamorizing her here. Look at some of the lyrics:

Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began

Does it seem like they are portraying this as a good thing? No. This whole sequence is Caitlyn losing herself. Giving in more to her rage and her pain and surrendering her values in the pursuit of "justice". But lying and exaggerating don't help anything. They only divert attention away from the true meaning of the narrative.

And before we move on lets just get this out of the way. There is no evidence that short term exposure to The Grey harms anyone long term. While there is an abundance of evidence to suggest it does not. We can speculate til the cows come home about what might happen. But at the end of the day this is fiction, and The Grey does not exist. What's accurate is what we are shown is accurate.

5. Well as we have discussed repeatedly Caitlyn's motivations are immensely more complicated and involved than grief over her mother.

Regarding Jinx, this is it's own topic and one I've written on fairly recently. I'll link that here as well. But let's take a quick look here at her actions regardless of motivation:

Lit a building on fire, lured in several enforcers including Caitlyn using a fake child's voice and then blew it up to steal hex tech. Killed everyone but Caitlyn.

Killed countless Firelights.

Attacked the bridge killing several people (Marcus and clearly proven corrupt Enforcers no big loss) but then attacked and actively tried to kill Caitlyn and Vi.

Blew herself up and almost killed Ekko after he stopped fighting

Abducted Caitlyn nude from her home, dressed her in her Enforcer uniform, held her close to a day.

Bound and gagged Caitlyn and made her listen while Jinx tried to convince Vi to murder her.

After Caitlyn spared her life, Jinx knocked her out. She then proceeded to kill Caitlyn's mother, two other councilors, main 2 more, injure at least Viktor and I'm sure other's we don't see, and destroy the chamber. The fall out of this attack opens the door for Piltover retaliation bringing it down on Zaun.

Unleashes The Grey all over Piltover.

If you want to give Jinx a free pass for all of that because of Piltover, I'm afraid you and I cannot agree.

Regarding proving Silco and Sevika right. These supposed champions of Zaun:

Directly and intentionally killed Vander, Grayson and Benzo

Caused the deaths of Mylo and Claggor by taking Vander

Tried to kill Vi

Silco was quite possibly about to kill Powder before she hugged him

They unleash Shimmer on their people. A proven dangerous, addictive drug that mutates its users and can turn them into monsters.

"anti-topside" Silco pays corrupt top-side cops to hunt and kill Firelights for opposing him

Regarding Silco: He promised Jinx and Vi's mother to make a safer Zaun for the then unborn Vi. He tried to kill Vi on the steps of Felicia and Conal's dilapidated home, using destitute Zaunites hooked on the drug he flooded the lanes with.

Regarding Sevika: She knew those kids the entire time they were with Vander. As stated, she plays a part in Vander's death leading to the deaths of Mylo and Claggor, tries to kill Vi repeatedly, and even though she helped orphan Jinx the second time she clearly and intentionally messes with her head in hopes Silco will cast Jinx out.

6. Regarding formal consequences, such as the law or something. As stated Martial Law and by extension Caitlyn was all agreed to by the Piltover elite and totally lawful within the bounds of this universe. Caitlyn's actions didn't actually violate real-world standards either (I've checked) but it's important to remember this isn't the real world. She can't be held to account for violating the Geneva convention in a world with no Geneva.

Regarding consequences in the story she absolutely did. We only see her for a brief moment after defeating Ambessa but her injuries were horrendous. With her power and resources, Caitlyn could have fled if she chose. No one could make her fight. Instead she fought on the front line and faced Ambessa, and sacrificed her eye, and almost her life. And that is to say nothing of the immense mental/emotional trauma of everything that has occurred.

If you aren't counting any of that because she chose to take that risk, I'll say this.

How did we reach the point where someone subjecting themselves to harm to make things right, isn't as righteous as watching them be forced to? It sounds to me like you loved Caitlyn as long as she wasn't affected by anything she went through.

WRAP UP:

This is insanely long. I do apologize for that but I knew it was going to be going in. Responding to multiple posts in one just comes out that way. I totally understand if you just TLDR and move on with your life. But if you do respond , I look forward to your thoughts.

Below as promised I will link my docs reference to the manipulations of Ambessa Medarda and Maddie Nolan on Caitlyn, as well as my recent post regarding Jinx and her motivations. Thank you.

Ambessa Medarda's Manipulation & Control

Maddie Nolan's Manipulation & Control

Jinx was never fighting her oppressor

[flightfoot]

Why are you always virtue signaling how Alya and Adrien get salted on in posts complaining about other characters receiving fandom hate ? Like that Kagami post had literally nothing to do with Alya but you still brought up how she has it worse than Kagami or whatever, you always dismiss any people complaining about characters' fandom hate with "I don't see them getting hated but even if they do Alya and Adrien still have it so much worse cause I say so !" even tho this doesn't even serve anything to what these people were saying to begin with.

It's not virtue signaling, it's me being extremely upset about the demonization they receive.

I have been complaining about this VERY LOUDLY for half a decade now, because I had a solid year where I just had the exposure to the saltfics, the ways I'd seen Alya and Adrien be treated, running over and over in my head nonstop. It's not fun to be constantly choked up at work for hours on end while having visions of Alya being made to physically beat up Marinette so that Marinette and her posse can crow about getting to hurt her in return, or memories of Adrien being made into this sexual assaulter so that Marinette's new boyfriend can beat him up, or just Marinette being mad that Adrien didn't think continuing with her unsuccessful attempts to expose Lila via accusing her of faking disabilities and then taking revenge on him for that, like by abusing her power to arrange for Lila to sexually harass him for her own viewing pleasure (yes, that was an actual ficlet passing around tumblr back in the day). I read a crapton of Miraculous fanfiction, so I have, unfortunately, seen a TON of it, AND I was exposed to the just absolute insanity of the saltdom from the start, since I joined the fandom in early 2019.

Part of the reason I tend to bring up the gross way Alya and Adrien have been treated is due to some of the arguments I kept on seeing way back in that first year of the saltdom, in 2019. One of the arguments I saw getting passed around was that Adrien deserved the level of just, absolutely insane demonization he was getting because, supposedly, Marinette had gotten more negative fanfics than him in the past, so this was an evening of the scales. As far as I can tell this isn't really true, at least of the degree that the Chameleon saltfics exist. So part of it is righteous indignation for that argument that was made to me by prominent people in the saltdom, since if you applied that same logic and that same degree of amplification to other characters now... well I don't even know what that would look like, the backlash for the Alya bashing would be beyond human comprehension.

The way you're talking about me saying that Alya and Adrien have it so much worse because I say so, implies that you don't think that's actually true. Do you need a link to their bashing tags? Because here's Alya's bashing tag, (it has over 900 entries) sorted by kudos so you can see how insanely popular these things are, so it's not just a few people puttin them out and them then getting ignored, this is a separate fandom derived from gross demonization in and of itself, and a link to the Adrien bashing tag, also sorted by kudos (it has over 700 entries). If you want to try to track down Kagami bashing fics in order to try to compare numbers on that then be my guess, there are, so far, only 3 fics actually labeled as such (though I do know more fics than that actually contain Kagami bashing, it's REALLY not that common, especially at the levels that Adrien and Alya tend to be bashed at. And yes, I am something of an authority on that subject.)

Also, my talking about the Chameleon salt being worse was actually kind of relevant to the post you're referencing.

OP was complaining about everyone being hung up on shipping and Kagami being bashed to high heaven partially as a result, and critiquing the fandom for Die For Our Ship, basically. But while there is some of that in ML, it's not the main contributer to character bashing in the ML fandom, and Kagami being bashed by Lovesquare shippers for getting in the way is one of the most infrequent, mild versions of Die For Our Ship that exists in the ML fandom. Lukanette and Maribat fics are FAR more likely to make Adrien into some horrible person to help justify Marinette hooking up with their boyfriend of choice, than Lovesquare fics are with Kagami. Heck, even if you're just looking at who Lovesquare fics will bash for the sake of a ship, LUKA is far more likely to be subjected to that than Kagami is (it's still not all that common though.)

Also just... back in the day, in 2019, the saltdom presented itself as the "morally correct" choice. Like, that it was critiquing the show and that it was simply giving Marinette justice, and that you were morally a bad person if you didn't recite all of Adrien's wrongdoings if you talk about liking him, and a lot of crap. The plainly racist way that Alya was targeted was dismissed as actually, somehow, being the SHOW WRITER's fault for writing her in a way that caused the Alya bashers to want to write her in a racist way. So part of me constantly bringing it up is also just still fermenting indignation and resentment for that bullshit, because it still doesn't feel like I got closure on this, since the saltfics are STILL being published daily, and are still way more popular than other fics with similar levels of writing quality.

I'm just still really, really upset about this, and when talking about the Adrien and Alya bashing and the stuff they're subjected to with people in real life, I often start raising my volume and yelling and choking up and even being on the verge of tears if I talk about it long enough. I am seriously, GENUINELY that hurt about it, ESPECIALLY for Alya, since she doesn't get the amount of love Adrien does to help offset her hate, and because the demonization Alya gets is so racist and undeserved.

[fear-is-truth]

THE BOWERS GANG . . . as boyfriends .ᐟ

content warning: mentions of domestic abuse. patrick is a warning himself. toxic relationship

HENRY BOWERS

henry craves validation like a starving dog. if you so much as compliment him, he’ll spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

needs to feel like a man around you. if you ever imply he’s less than masculine, he takes it personally. even something small, like opening a jar for yourself instead of asking him, will put him in a pissy mood.

if you get mad at him for something he did (e.g. for bullying little kids) and give him the cold shoulder? he doesn’t know how to handle it, so he either storms off or does something stupid & reckless just to get your attention back.

carves your initials into the kissing bridge the summer you started dating.

when he gets jealous (which is often), it’s not just petty annoyance—it’s irrational rage. at you, at the perceived “threat”. he won’t hesitate to start a fight over it.

deep down, he doesn’t believe he’s good enough for you. although he covers it up with arrogance and acts like you’re his property, there’s a constant fear in the back of his mind that someday you’ll realise you can do so much better.

when his old man beats the shit outta him, henry doesn’t go home. sometimes he crashes at victor’s, but more often than not, he ends up at your window, one hand gripping the frame, the other cradling his ribs. he never says what happened; just a curt “lemme in.”

you’ve gotten good at patching him up. cleaning the cuts, pressing ice to the bruises. he always hisses when you touch him, tells you to quit babying him.

some nights, henry climbs through your window reeking of cheap beer, barely making it inside without cracking his skull open. flops onto your bed fully clothed, mumbles nonsense into your pillow. you pull his boots off, and let him sleep it off. in the morning, he’s already gone.

wants to be the kind of guy you deserve, but he doesn’t know how.

genuinely believes you’re the only good thing in his life. (you are)

VICTOR CRISS

as the second in command of the bowers gang and your boyfriend, he’s fiercely loyal to both henry and you. this sometimes puts him in uncomfortable positions.

won’t actively go looking for trouble, but if someone messes with you, he’ll put them in their place.

his stoicism can be unsettling. he’ll stand by and watch seemingly unbothered when henry does insane shit, and he’ll never intervene unless he really has to.

respects that you don’t like the bullying. obviously, victor doesn’t stop when he’s with the rest of the gang, but when you’re around, he keeps it to a minimum.

has a dry, deadpan sense of humour, but when he’s with the guys, he can get a bit mean-spirited. might tease you more than usual, especially if henry or patrick egg him on, but he always apologises tries to make it up to you afterward.

probably the only one in the group who would genuinely apologise if he upset you.

actively listens when you talk. not much of a talker himself, but he remembers practically every tidbit you’ve ever told him.

asked you (somewhat awkwardly & tentatively) to help him re-bleach his hair, rubbing the back of his neck like he was already regrets asking. but when your fingers started combing through his hair, spreading the bleach, he say still, eyes closed, maybe enjoying it a little too much.

he’ll shrug off his jacket and hand it over when you’re shivering. if you try to say no, he just gives you a look like don’t be dumb.

tries to teach you how to skateboard.

actually pretty good at school. he’s not a nerd but he’s smart and pays attention. if you ever get stuck on something, he’ll help.

patrick often points out how much time vic spends with you, calls him pussy whipped whenever he ditches the rest of the gang to walk you home or helps you with homework. victor gives little to no reaction, just rolls his eyes and ignores them, but the tips of his ears go pink.

PATRICK HOCKSTETTER

patrick doesn’t believe in love—hell, on some level, he doesn’t even believe you’re real. no one is, not really. the world is just a dull, empty playground for him to fuck around in. but whatever he feels when he looks at you, it’s close enough.

he’s interested in you, the way a biologist would be interested in a new insect specimen.

has zero sense of boundaries. he touches you whenever he wants—grabs your ass when you walk by, hooks a finger through your bra strap before letting it snap back, slides his hand up your thigh under the table, all while looking you dead in the eye.

loves playing with his zippo, always flicking it open and shut, rolling the flame between his fingers. sometimes, he’ll hold it just inches from your face, watching how your pupils dilate, how you go perfectly still. “relax,” he drawls, letting the fire dance inches from your cheek. “i’d never ruin that pretty face. unless i felt like it.”

will flirt with (harass) other girls in front of you just to see your reaction, and if you retaliate, he finds it hilarious.

there’s no jealousy with him. if another guy looks at you, pat doesn’t get mad, he just gets amused. sidles up behind you, slides a hand up your side, grins at the poor bastard watching. “she’s cute, huh?” he says, almost conversational. “wanna see what she looks like on her knees?”

loves it when you grab his hair during sex.

pain doesn’t register for him. he plays super rough—yanks your hair hard like he’s trying to rip off your scalp, grabs your wrists so tight that it bruises. he doesn’t understand why it hurts you, but he likes it. very much.

he’s a total freak. into bdsm, knifeplay, wax play, blood play and more.

his nicknames for you are slut and bitch.

patrick’s version of a date is breaking into abandoned breaking into abandoned buildings, to spray-paint obscene words on the sides of houses, to steal shit from supermarkets.

says the creepiest, most out-of-pocket shit when he’s feeling “introspective”.

disappears for hours without telling you where he’s going, then shows up like nothing happened.

the only reason he even sticks around is because you amuse him. if that ever changed, he’d drop you like nothing.

BELCH HUGGINS

reg is definitely the least cruel one in the group. by no means a saint but compared to the others, he’s a damn angel.

loooves his car. when you hang out while he’s fixing up his ride, he’ll put you to work—“hand me that wrench. no, not that one. jesus, do you even know what a wrench looks like?”

would drives you anywhere, no questions asked except for “where to?”

loyal to a fault. once he’s decided you’re his girl, you’re stuck with him. through thick and thin, through blood and bruises, he’s got your back, no matter what.

big on physical affection.

actually plans nice dates.

remembers and celebrates your anniversary and valentine’s day.

is the kind of guy who, after a couple months of being close, is already picturing forever with you.

takes you to meet his family early on—his mom, his siblings. just randomly brings you over like “c’mon, ma’s makin’ meatloaf.” it’s just that simple.

his mom simply adores you. dotes on you, tells you embarrassing stories about reginald as a kid.

[isogenderskitty]

i think it's interesting how steph is like... the nerds see her as part of the popular group, and sure we see her talking to the cheerleaders a little, but other than that she doesn't really seem to be one of them in the truest sense? i could fully believe that she feels like the tiniest bit of an outcast there, like she's just cool enough for max to give her a pass but she doesn't really click with them that well. she feels to me like the bridge between the popular ones and the nerds, which is appropriate i suppose for her place in the story.

[optimistic-autistic]

nothing so aggravating as seeing people claim what Hades did was just a misunderstanding because he ''loved Persephone too much''. like i don't know about you, but it's pretty hard for that to turn into building a town based on slavery and later getting a girl and assaulting her (even if it's just implied, he still at least had to pretend to do something like it, because his goal was to make Persephone mad).

[softdrabbles]

charlotte tried her best to keep a straight face at tatum's comment but sounds of laughter broke out from her, "i'm not worried about how high i may have to climb. heights don't scare me." how had she missed their goofy personality? someone that made her laugh without even trying. it seemed her professionalism had gotten the better of her and she had not paid enough attention to the person that was quite literally always there for her. tatum was a breath of fresh air in a world that could be so suffocating and if every day with them felt like this carefree and easy, she didn't want it to end.

"just as i thought," she laughed, dimples on her cheeks popping. "these people best get in line and take a number because you're mine and i'm not giving you up that easily." visiting tatum's home town, she couldn't help but wonder why they had chosen to leave. career aspirations? a change of scenery? maybe they just wanted to find something more, something she could relate to. if it were career ambitions, she wondered if there was anything she could do to help them reach their goals. as much as she hated the idea of losing someone like tatum from her team, she didn't want to be the one to hold them back. it only made her curiosity grow for them, wondering why she hadn't paid more attention in the past.

she knew flirting with an employee was wrong but it just felt so damn good, exhilarating even, to hold someone's attention in such a way, to have them react to her for her. tatum's response made her think that they didn't mind what her words may or may not have implied and that caused the playful smirk on her lips to grow a little bigger hearing what they had to say, "you're right, you should be better. i feel almost insulted to be quite frank," she continued to tease, something that was almost too hard to stop at this point. "if you don't watch your step you might find yourself paying interest on the compensation of these benefits." it was almost as if she were holding her breath waiting for tatum to say something and when they did, she bit down on her lip in attempt to hide the smile, "i'll be sure to take care of your delicate heart and i get the feeling that complaints will be non existent."

charlotte's eyes remained soft on them, if she had a dollar for every time someone had said that same phrase to her she'd be rolling in it. there was something about the way tatum spoke that made her truly want to believe that that person was right under her nose. maybe they had been. maybe that person was closer than she thought. "i'm starting to think that." with a shrug of the shoulders, she chuckled, "i think because i always saw my parents so in love, it's just something i've always wanted for myself." charlotte knew she was lucky to have been brought up in a house filled with so much love, hence her mother's passing having such an impact on her. "we do, which i understand. i'm cool with anything too, i just wanted to be sure, that's all. if you ever want to take the lead, i'll follow."

as she'd made her way down stairs, her heart hammered seeing tatum looking down at their phone. they were so sweet, so innocent and she was using them for something illegal, something that wasn't their problem. she could here their sweet mother's voice speaking and it made the guilt feel a little worse. "so do you." tatum looked like a snack if she were truly honest. the kiss to her temple warmed her cheeks as she tried to ignore the pink tint. it was heartwarming that tatum was still so considerate of their parents, that they would still assured them they wouldn't be out late. it was wholesome to say the least. as the older woman offered a hug, charlotte eagerly obliged, thanking the woman for her hospitality.

"it may be. i know i should have asked but it just looked so cozy and i figured since we're suppose to be together, you wouldn't mind —" the actress began to ramble, hoping it was okay that she used it. as the cab moved through town, charlotte did her best to take it all in, her hand slipping into tatum's softly, eyes still curious out the window. as they exited, charlotte pulled some cash out of her bag, offering the one hundred dollar tip to the driver, "thank you, kevin." it was hard to deny charlie felt slightly nervous about going into a small town bar but she trusted tatum and their judgement and now the hand that was placed on her back. as tatum spoke to her, she was glad she had long sleeve clothes on because the goosebumps of having their voice so close her level would have given away just the affect they had on her. "i trust you, tate."

stepping into the bar, charlotte didn't quite know what to expect, instinctively staying much closer to tatum. it was filled with older men, something of a relief. a reminder of the bar in town back home, just a little quieter. charlie couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to casually visit a bar besides the one she grew up around. it gave her a sense of normalcy, a feeling that never failed to bring a smile to her face, "i will have a cocktail but of your recommendation and choice. surprise me." charlotte noticed the younger woman behind the bar, the way she smiled at tatum specifically. it was silly to think they didn't know each other in a town this small. offering a friendly smile to the woman, she watched the two interact, curious. there was a small feeling eating at her that she didn't want to acknowledge. charlotte spencer was not jealous of a small town bartender. it seemed too absurd for words and she internally scolded herself for even entertaining the idea. "hi, i'm charlotte," she finally blurted, raising her hand to shake the woman's awkwardly, "you two went to school together or something?"

"The higher you climb, the higher I'll go." Their comment made no sense, but Tatum was doubling down on their words. Despite the playfulness of their shared banter, Tatum knew that Charlotte was being serious, and so they made an internal promise not to work during this trip. As far as anyone was aware, the happy couple was offline, off the grid; they were unavailable until they were back in the city. A part of Tatum was somewhat relieved. While the two had brief, stolen moments of conversations and soft glances, their interactions were always so formal and always about work. While Tatum knew more about Charlotte than most, they were weirdly excited to learn more in such an intimate and casual setting. 

"Oh, so in high demand, it's crazy." Truth be told, the small town was mainly made up of farmers, their wives, and the kids that would eventually take over the family business. It was unusual for people to leave town. Every local store was passed down through generations, and at this point it was almost an unspoken rule to one day take your parent's place. Tatum didn't want that. They dreamt of getting out and moving to the big city. While being a personal assistant definitely hadn't been the goal, they were just happy to be where they wanted to be. Tatum's parents hadn't been all that supportive at first. They found it humorous that the traditionally American couple was more accepting of Tatum's gender and sexuality than their decision to move across the country.

The way Charlotte navigated the context of Tatum's words caused a curious brow to raise. Their head slightly tilting in amusement. Was Charlotte flirting? If so, then it wasn't subtle, but Tatum enjoyed it, bringing a smirk to their lips. "You know what? You're right; I'm sorry. I'm actually the worst assistant; how could I leave my own boss out when it comes to the full package that I have to offer? I promise I'll do better," Tatum thought about their next sentence carefully. Was there a hidden agenda behind their words? Did they want to flirt back? As they explored their options, they decided to take a risk. "Who knows, maybe on this trip I'll let you gain all the benefits, but no complaints, please. My delicate heart won't take it."

"You know what they say, sometimes the right person for you is right under your nose, and you never know it. It's usually the person you least expect." What was happening? Tatum was walking on thin ice, balancing on a tightrope between professional and crossing the line. They were getting a little too comfortable. But Tatum put it down to practice; they wouldn't be acting like Charlotte's assistant if they were engaged. "It doesn't sound lame at all; you're allowed to want what you want, no matter how cheesy it is." While Tatum wasn't a romantic, in the sense of love at first sight, they understood how people craved the idea of it. They wanted that moment of eyes meeting across a crowded room as fireworks set off. Life wasn't a movie, and in Tatum's eyes, you had to work for it. "Boundaries?" Tatum hadn't even thought about that. "I'm cool with anything. We have to make it believable, right?" Honestly, Tatum trusted Charlotte. They weren't strangers, and if they wanted this to actually work, they had to truly act like a couple. 

Tatum had figured Charlotte would take a little longer to get ready. The assistant perched on a kitchen stool with their focus on their phone. Technically, they are sticking to their word of no work. While their mom cleaned up the kitchen, Tatum set up an automated message for when anyone sent them an email, letting them know both they and Charlotte were unavailable. Tatum had Charlotte all to themselves, and the thought alone brought a sense of smugness to them. It was a term that not everybody got to enjoy.

Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, Tatum glanced up as they immediately got to their feet, putting the phone away. While Charlotte always looked incredible, there was something about seeing her so casual that caused Tatum to swallow thickly. "Yeah, let's go, you look great." Tatum reciprocated the touch with a light kiss to Charlotte's temple, causing their mom to grin at the happy couple. "We won't be out late, I promise we will be quiet when we get back." Tatum always felt like a teenager again whenever they visited home. Giving their mom the usual spiel every time they would leave to hang out with friends. After their mom had hugged them both goodbye and told them to have a nice time, Tatum led the way outside. 

"Is that my jacket?" Tatum questioned as they left the house, now standing on the porch. They hoped their words hadn't come across as accusations, but more so just genuine curiosity. While Tatum probably wouldn't have noticed, it had been how oversized the jacket actually looked that had given it away. Luckily, the cab didn't take long to arrive, and within ten minutes they pulled up outside of the bar. "Thanks, Kevin, and tell Lucy I said hi, okay?" Tatum spoke to the older man as they handed him the money. They hated being a small-town stereotype, but Tatum had grown up with most people in town. 

Getting out of the cab, Tatum instinctively placed a gentle hand on Charlotte's back. It was easier to pretend they were a couple than Tatum thought it would be. "Like I said," Tatum lowered more to Charlotte's level, their voice a little quieter, "nobody is going to recognise you here, but on the off chance that this place is overrun with millennials, I promise we can leave." Tatum had chosen this bar for a reason. But things changed; they hadn't stepped foot in the establishment for years. 

"What do you want to drink, oh future wife of mine?" Tatum beamed as they approached the bar. Thankfully, it had been just how Tatum remembered it. It was quiet, save for a few older men dotted about as they enjoyed their daily drinks with friends. Not one had even bothered to look up, refusing to detach from their conversations as they laughed and drank. The couple were the youngest by far, but Tatum just wanted somewhere quiet and out of the way. The bartender smiled politely, greeting them both with a knowing look at Tatum. They had gone to school together, and while the pair never really ran with the same crowds, there was definitely history between them. "Hey Tate, good to see you back in town. What can I get you both?" Tatum lent against the bar with a smile as they put in their order.

[skitskatdacat63]

.

[rainybraindays]

once again do not get why people act like Anthony is such a good brother

[my-current-obsession]

Me, delusional, foaming at the mouth:

ISH ROUTE??? POTENTIAL ISH ROUTE? PLEASE?

[omarwolaeth]

Thinking about how souls canonically do exist in universe, and how that might correlate to seeing different people as one in the same, all because their souls are identical (pieces of a whole)

[fionnaskyborn]

one day when i am not busy dying on the inside and out i will write an honest-to-god essay about how people are, for the lack of a better descriptor but simultaneously for the lack of a more perfect one, too edgy about five.

[kxllerblond]

spends my last hour ranting about how the cod fandom replaces the only black dude on the team with some mULTIPLAYER CHARACTER not even in the main game. an hour well spent tbh

[willowfey]

ignore this i just wanna ramble in the tags for a sec i’ll probably delete it in a bit 🤪

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two