#i want to be able to block tag there cause making me feel so unsafe that i can't even shower isn't fucking okay

[kerosene-saint]

thanks tik tok for causing the worst paranoid breakdown I've had in about two years

[imjustaf444keriguess]

(i slept and i feel a bit better, although i should probably focus on other things after this reply)

you mention it was "from a blogger who did confirm they were endogenic and just posted a one off "plural culture is" post." but when i read "plural culture is" i think of those blogs who just post anons mostly. there's even one that uses "plural culture" (or used to use it) even though they're anti endo themselves. the term plural is meant to encompass ANY plural experience, disordered and medicalized or not.

"As for what I personally would consider more than the most surface level things about plurality, to me it's the emotion and the struggles behind it, not connected to just the symptom of having alters." do you mean the trauma and PTSD symptoms? because that's separate from the plural experience, and can affect your experience of plurality, but that just sounds like you're referring to, you know, the trauma and disordered part of your experience? especially because after you say "Especially the negative parts about it such as not having a sense of self whatsoever, or not recognizing yourself in the mirror.", which... doesn't apply for all systems or plurals, and definitely is more of a trauma or PTSD thing than a plurality thing.

also "there are so few people who experience the negatives, or at least post about it" do YOU post about the negatives of your plurality/systemhood all the time? i know i don't, but we don't really share our system much online in a direct "hey, i'm a system!" way. half of the reason why we don't post about our system is due to it being personal, private, and trauma related, so of course i'm not gonna spread that out wildly on the internet (i'm not an idiot kid anymore luckily).

(the other half is because if we did share the nice and fun stuff, we'd get fakeclaimed and seen as "too happy" and "not experiencing the negatives", even though we're just a system and as a human being living in the world today, we want a happy space and tumblr is a place where you can make your own safe space and not have to deal with the negatives.)

also, again, as you say "Once again, this may just be affected by who might've blocked us and who we have blocked ourselves.". people aren't gonna vent to strangers, most the time. especially if they're older and have experienced the trauma or seen other people be traumatized by expressing themselves online. you can see systemscringe and fakedisordercringe reposting people simply existing, making fun of them and creating toxic spaces. people like that and many disrespectful anti-endos cause endos and pro-endos to want to guard their spaces, to keep them safe. i know i immediately feel like i've walked into a bad space when i enter and they're fakeclaiming endos in their rules, even if i'm technically "traumagenic" and shouldn't be affected by that. people want SAFE spaces, and many people make tumblr's tags unsafe.

so, the main people who do post stuff like that there that wouldn't have already blocked you, are probably 16 and new to tumblr and just exploring their system feelings for the first time and don't know about heavy syscourse or what "seems obvious".

also, about the people in your inbox, you should be able to block them, or turn off anon asks for a bit, because some people like to use syscourse to be mean to others and yell at "the bad people", instead of trying to make their spaces safe for all systems and plurals. thats cause they prefer sending anon hate instead of being kind to fellow systems that need it. they aren't worth your time if they're just sending hate (although if they're sending critiques, like my reblogs to you, then stop, listen, consider, and if it's actually still worthless to you, then delete and block.)

Is it just me or do endos just post the most surface level things about plurality??

I saw a post saying "Plural culture is having to explain to your friends why you sometimes don't remember things and act different."

Like sure that's true but it's like one of the most well-known things ever, it's been said hundreds of times.

It honestly strengthens my belief that these people really don't know what plurality is beyond Tumblr and maybe a Wikipedia page or two. It just makes it seem like they didn't put much effort into learning what plurality actually is beyond the most well-known things about it.

-Charlie and Kirill

(PRO/ENDOS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST.)

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[ablednt]

Actually helpful advice for the kids on this hellsite

Once again tired of "don't make a carrd or tell people your triggers" posts going around literally telling kids it's Dangerous to set boundaries. So here's what I've learned in my teen years on how to stay safe in the hellscape that's the internet.

Identity

You don't have to link all your social media together but you can if you want to. Don't give out something that is more private (like discord account, Skype or zoom account, facebook, Snapchat etc.) publicly or to people who aren't familiar with yet though.

Use a nickname rather than your real name or birth name, an account and name change may unfortunately be necessary so if you want to keep a name safe or use it irl then don't attach it to public social media. This can be fun though! Go apeshit coming up with different aliases and names! Call yourself lizard if you want to!

The only thing you absolutely need to put somewhere on your account (or carrd) is that you're a minor. You don't have to give the exact age but I promise this is important because even if there's plenty of context clues that you're a minor if you don't indicate this somewhere clear and adults start treating you like shit you need to be able to point out that they're knowingly doing this to a minor. That has saved me from gross bullshit a lot. Yes, people should default to treating people who's ages they don't know as a minor to play it safe but the majority of people assume everyone is the same age as them so you need to make it clear you're not an adult.

Pronouns don't make you identifiable and anyone who acts like putting your pronouns in your bio is unsafe is probably transphobic lmao. You don't have to if you don't want to (and don't mind people not using/knowing your pronouns) but it's safe to put them there most of the time. (The only exception I can think of is if you're closeted and your parents may find your account but in that case you should probably stay closeted online to unless you feel safe/know they aren't likely to find your account.)

You don't have to list every privilege you have and you probably shouldn't but if you're white you probably should indicate this somewhere. This is to hold yourself accountable because yes even teenagers can be racist and underaged people of color also deserve to feel safe. If you're nonwhite and don't feel safe doing so you don't have to list your race or ethnicity.

If you're part of a system/plural or questioning you do NOT have to say your systems origins, if you have DID/OSDD, or list your headmates/alters. The system community has a lot of people in it (and singlets adjacent to parts of the community due to bullshit discourse groups welcoming them) who will target underaged systems to fakeclaim them or harass them etc. I suggest having everyone use aliases/nicknames on a system account and you only tell your origin to people you feel comfortable around and safe with. Your safety and privacy is more important than your trendy system carrd goals I promise!

You shouldn't really just list any disorders you have but it really does no harm to put marginalized identities you're proud of on a carrd or in your bio. You might get a shitty anon or two but I promise people aren't going to dox you if you say you're autistic on your carrd or something.

I personally wouldn't list any special interests that are particularly recognizable (popular media should be ok but more niche stuff may not be) or publicly share a kin list just because you never know if you'll want to switch up your identity online to feel safe and the more things are clearly tied to your current nickname and handle the harder it will be to do this. However if you feel safe doing so it's not the end of the world. Just be careful about it and don't feel pressured to give more info than you're comfortable giving.

You do NOT need to tell people your trauma in order to tell them your triggers. If you need something tagged with a tw you really should indicate this somewhere so people know to tag it (unless you intend to send every you're mutuals with an anon with what to tag which is also an option but may be difficult) but you shouldn't tell them your trauma or medical history to justify it. Your boundaries aren't up for debate and you have nothing to prove. You should only talk about your trauma if you feel safe doing so (and even then please don't give identifiable details like.names of people involved or specifics as that can cause serious problems.)

Boundaries & etiquette

DNIs are good! BYFs are good! Anyone who tells you that they're not good or useful is absolutely trying to disrespect your and other people's boundaries. You can and should make a DNI and list the people you don't want to interact with. (Generally it's better to say groups rather than specific people or names because it's easier to again not be recognized if you need to change accounts/aliases but you can do this if you have strong reasoning and absolutely have to to feel safe.)

DNIs (and also.trigger lists) don't have to all be bad things! You can put fandoms that make you uncomfortable, things that trigger you but aren't bad inherently, etc. on these lists. They're about helping you feel safe not having the hottest takes or being the most morally correct.

Some people you should put in your DNIs as a minor are proshippers/anti-antis and MAPs. Both of these groups have been proven time and time again to groom minors online so the earlier you get away from them the better.

Once you have your DNI please do be aggressive in reinforcing it! Block people who break your DNI, tell people who complain about your DNI to fuck off! Do not tolerate people trying to debate the boundaries You have set this is your corner of the internet to feel safe! They can go somewhere else! Being blocked by a kid on the internet is not the emotional blow abusers act like it is. You're not mean for having boundaries please internalize this and stand up for yourself!

If other people have a DNI you need to check that before following them this is for both your own safety and theirs. If you're unsure what something on someone's DNI means ask around to find out before following just in case.

Do NOT get involved in discourse! This doesn't mean you can't ever take part in or boost serious things. Discussing/calling out bigotry (racism, ableism, transphobia, etc.) isn't discourse. Sometimes callout posts for legitimately harmful people is necessary so that's not automatically bad. But I'm taking about the shit that's #discourse. Stay out of ace discourse. Stay away from syscourse. Don't debate with terfs or transmeds or shitty people. I know it seems like it'd be cathartic to win debates with shitty people, I know there's people who will try to bait you into the latest argument over which lgbt+ identities can say what slurs or whatever the fuck the pointless bad faith argument is, and I know you want to prove that your marginalized identity doesn't make you a bad person like bigots say it does. But as someone who's mental health was absolutely destroyed by discourse as a teen it's not worth it. By all means discuss issues as they arise, broaden your perspectives and horizons, etc. but don't engage knowingly in discourse it will save you so much trouble in the long run.

Try to avoid talking to adults 1x1 if you can avoid it! It's okay to dm with an adult you feel safe talking to sometimes and while it's certainly okay not to interact with adults at all if you don't feel.comfortable it's generally okay to do so. But if an adult is going out of their way to consistently talk to you in private needlessly that can be a red flag. If an adult tries to insinuate that they're the only adult around you can trust that's DEFINITELY a red flag. Basically talk to people in places you can easily involve others if needs be. If someone sends you a dm that makes you uncomfortable screenshot it in case you need to show someone etc.

Don't discuss NSFW things with adults, in spaces adults have easy access to (for example a discord server open to all ages), or even with other underaged people who haven't indicated they're comfortable with it. There's nothing inherently wrong with being aware of nsfw stuff or experiencing sexual attraction as a teenager but it's very important that you don't put yourself in situations that may be unsafe for you or others. Most good discord servers have rules against this for this exact reason. Now, to make it abundantly clear, if you did or do ever say something nsfw and an adult takes advantage of this or responds in a way that makes you uncomfortable this is NOT your fault! The responsibility falls on adults to act appropriately but it's still a good idea to keep youeself out of harms way.

That's basically it on a general level. Once again, posts telling you not to make DNIs or carrds or trigger lists (all used to set clear boundaries) are very suspect and either grossly misunderstand how these things work or are intentionally demonizing them in order to have more opportunity it excuse to do harm. Setting clear boundaries is good. Doing things that help you feel safe and respected is good. Just don't go and get involved in discourse or give out personal information or anything.

[phaedo]

AO3 doesn't house 'every random thing' people submit. AO3 is a fannish-transformative work archive. Too many people think of AO3 as a sort of library when its more like a bank or vault for a specific purpose.

For specific content.

Fannish-transformative content. That could encompass RPF, meta, character-based fanfiction, universe-based original fiction, transcriptions, podfics, ect.

Does fannish-transformative content include a large scope? Yes. But its not AO3 is just shrugging its shoulders and saying yeah sure, whatever, post it here. I've literally had works removed because I added the alternative universe (fandom) the fic is based in as a fandom by mistake and not an additional tag, thus making it incorrectly a 'crossover' work.

I came across sort of harsh in my first message, for which I'm wholly apologising, but I'm exhausted and angered by two decades' worth of people looking at AO3 with biased tunnel vision.

AO3 is not a social site. AO3 is not a community site. AO3 is not like Wattpad or Tumblr. The literal purpose of AO3 is to archive content. We're frankly lucky it has the comment functions that it does. Think of AO3 like a massive harddrive, but online. Its Google Drive for fanfiction. That's it.

People have such an un-true perspective on AO3 that it causes constant harm. People demanding functions like private messages, group communities, more social aspects. Demanding censorship and certain community approaches and goals and restrictions.

It. Won't. Happen. Simply because that's not what AO3 is for. Its the same reason why there'll never be censorship, or 'safe spaces' or segregated areas on the site.

Its up to the users, specifically, to craft there work in a manner that telegraphs the intent. Use the tags. Use the author notes. Delete sexualising comments. My actual best advice? Create a Discord server where you can monitor the users accessing it. Craft your community there and use AO3 for what its intended for; hosting.

i've been on ao3 for almost nine years i know what it is. why has fandom culture normalized abuse porn.

like the problem isn't so much the specific rules of ao3 (i mean i disagree with the philosophy i guess but that's also a result of the culture) but with a culture that is actively hostile to traumatized and marginalized people. and don't try to tell me it isn't because there are countless firsthand accounts of how alienating and hostile and uncomfortable fandom can be.

when i wrote my first post i was thinking of a friend's fic, which features a disabled character. my friend got comments on their completely sfw fic assuming it was sexual. some people were mad at them for fetishizing disability and some were into it and both responses were wildly inappropriate for the story. why have we created a culture where it's more normal to sexualize and fetishize disability than to write about it? that culture is actively hostile to disabled people. as a disabled person who frequently writes about disability this makes me feel unsafe. deleting the comments still means you have to read and see them and know that this is how your work is being interpreted. and you can telegraph your intent all you want but that won't give readers critical thinking skills!! like!! sorry don't blame the writer of a sfw fic for the people who automatically sexualize everything.

i also like... never asked for messaging or any other social media feature. yes i'm thrilled to be able to block users but i never asked for that either. but like ao3 does serve a social purpose no matter how much it pretends it doesn't? like? yeah it's an ~archive~ but its main practical use right now is not historical. you can already leave comments on works that go directly to the author-- compared to other sites framing the feedback function as reviews. that has been true as long as ao3 has existed. i don't want it to be a social media and in fact i wish it were less of one.

it is also truly bold of you to assume that i don't already curate my experience. i have my own small communities. i literally do have a discord server and we have an ao3 collection just for our works. i have a fic blog for the express purpose of hosting my fics somewhere that isn't ao3. i have been in fandom for ten years now. and i can understand the purpose and function of ao3 and still disagree with it. you're coming off as really condescending here.

[ill-be-your-honey-bri]

Save Me

This is what happens when I am left alone with my imagination, watching way too much crime TV. I introduce Detective Harry Styles.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut including cuffs and choking.

Trigger Warnings: There are mentions of homicide, abuse, drugs, sexual assault, and sex work all due to the nature of the job.

Please leave a comment, like, and spread around. It makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work after I am able to get my incessant imagination into a fic. 

ENJOY!

Detective Harry Styles had just closed a case on a domestic violence incident that led to a justifiable homicide. Harry couldn’t blame the girl. He had shown up to their house on multiple occasions after neighbors had called on numerous accounts of domestic dispute. He had seen black eyes and busted lips on the poor girl too many times to count; the guy had it coming.

Harry had walked into his favorite pub. It’s open well into the dawn of the morning so if he has a late night, he can still grab a pint at the end of his work day. It was an earlier night for him tonight, so there were a few of the regular patrons and a few new. One particularly piquing his interest.

She was sitting at the bar, laptop propped open with a wine glass set to the side, nearly empty. He was curious as to why someone would want to work in a dingy bar nearing midnight. His feet had a mind of their own, gravitating to this peculiar girl. She threw her head back to finish the liquid in her glass before returning to typing away.

“Odd place to be doing work, don’t you think?” Harry was leaning on the bar, nodding at the tender who was already getting his usual lager. She continued to type, smiling at the screen.

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s more peaceful at the bar than it is at my apartment? That, and I ran out of wine.” She looked up at him owly, “Detective Styles.” She had known who he was because she had followed a few of his cases when she was a newbie at the paper.

Harry thanked the bartender, motioning for him to get the girl another glass of what she was having. “Now, tell me how it happens to be that you know me but I don’t know a beautiful girl like you?”

She ignored the compliment but a blush crept on her cheeks. “I have written about a few of your cases. I’m an investigative reporter for the Tribune. Y/N Y/L/N.” She put her hand out for Harry to shake. He smirked now knowing who she was, having read her articles.

She was creative in her writing yet informative. She wrote as if it were a mystery, giving the information to the reader to have them on their toes. Making the reader have their assumptions and accusations on who they felt the perpetrators were only to blow the reader away with the final sentences of the jaw dropping reveal. Harry was a fan.

“It’s nice to meet you. I read all your work.” Harry took a sip of his pint as Y/L’s wine glass was being topped off. She was sure to save her current work before shutting the laptop to turn towards Harry, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her Chardonnay.

“Is that so? I am a fan of your work as well. You seem to get a good mixture of cases. Helps me keep my job.” She smiled at him before taking another swig and placing her glass on the bar. “Got anything good for me?” She pulled out a notebook and pen looking back up at him with long lashes and expectant eyes.

Harry let out a soft chuckle, letting his head fall forward as he rubs his nose with his knuckle before running his hand in his curly locks. “Nothing I can discuss with you, love. Not before I talk with my captain.”

“No closed cases we can discuss? I know we can’t discuss any open cases but closed cases are public record. What better way to get information on a case than from a reliable source like the lead detective.” She was leaning in closer at this point, resting her head on hand with her elbow now sitting on the bar. She had a devilish smirk growing across her luscious lips.

Harry leaned in closer to her, giving a boyish smile. “And how do you know that love?”

“I have a dual degree in criminal justice and journalism. Need to know the law to write about it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had provided information regarding the case he had closed a few hours prior, where Y/N had agreed that the bastard had it coming. She confirmed that she will only provide the facts in the article and not show her hand on her personal bias against the abuser.

After discussing the case, Harry felt the need to know more about her. He was truly smitten with the writer, only knowing her for a few hours. They finished a few drinks, talking about their personal lives, why they each chose their career. Harry confessed that he feels the need to protect people and bring justice to those who have been hurt and wronged. Y/N telling Harry that she had always loved to write and also felt the need for justice but could never put herself on the front lines.

It was approaching dawn when Y/N remembered she needed to get going home since she had an interview in a few hours. She was in the process of standing when she stumbled slightly, Harry catching her by her elbows.

“Sorry”, she mumbled with a giggle.

“It’s alright, love,” beaming down at her as he helped steady her on her feet, “let me walk you home.”

“Thank you, I only love a few blocks from here.”

She packed up her laptop and Harry offered to carry her messenger bag. They continued to chat along the way to her apartment and he had to confess, the area was a bit noisy and if he remembered correctly, he had been in the area multiple times for cases.

“You live in this area?”

She hummed a “Mhm” with a nod. “All I can afford on my own, really. I know it’s not the best area but it’s not far from the essentials or my office.”

“Darling, I’m around here more often than not for cases. This area is awful!”

She began to smile, “Are you worried about me, H?” Giving him a slow, sleepy blink as they stop in front of her building.

Harry couldn’t lie, he could kiss her right now. She was so soft and sweet looking but he knew that he had just met her tonight and he is a gentleman. And that nickname she gave him made his tummy flutter. “Of course I’m worried about you, living in an unsafe place.”

“I’m a big girl H, can handle myself.” She pulled out the pepper spray from the messenger bag Harry was carrying for her. She also lifted her skirt to show that she had a holster with a knife and the garter holding up her thigh high stockings against her plush skin.

Harry felt dizzy seeing her skin and the knife, slightly concerned that he was turned on by the sight but not enough to deter the shot of electricity going straight to his groin. Harry cleared his throat, giving a nod and handing the messenger bag back to Y/N.

Y/N said her thanks as she readjusted her skirt and took the bag. Walking up the stairs to the front door of the building, she turned to say good night.

“Do you think I would be able to follow you at work sometimes? I would love to see a case from start to finish to write about it.” She was giving him a pleading look with a sweet smile, hoping he would say ‘yes’.

And how could he say no? 

He walked up the few steps to her to hand her his card with the precinct address. “Come to the precinct after your interview tomorrow.”

She had nodded before turning to open the door that made an awful screeching noise, causing dogs in the building to bark and their owners to yell at them. Harry made sure that she was safe inside before turning to make his way home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N had been following Harry on cases for a few years, winning awards for a plethora of her articles. Harry was proud to say that he was able to help her along the way. He also couldn’t help how his feelings had grown for the woman sitting on his desk, sipping out of his coffee mug and biting into a bagel from the bag that she had brought to the office for everyone.

“Do you think it was a crime of passion or a mugging gone wrong?” She had asked Harry and his partner, Cam, speaking around the bite of bagel she had just taken.

Harry had to blink a few times to focus on the question and not the beauty brushing off the crumbs from her skirt. “Definitely a crime of passion.”

“What makes you say that?” Taking another sip from Harry’s mug, happy that they both drink their coffee black.

“He was facing the perp, bludgeoned in the face. The perp was pissed.” Harry took the bagel from Y/N’s hand to take a bite of his own before handing it back to her as he stood up to refill his mug with coffee.

“Do you think it was a lover? I mean, he was caught literally with his pants around his ankles.”

Cam was going through the bag to pick his breakfast, “Wouldn't you be pissed and beat the hell out of your man if he was screwing someone else in an alley?”

“Would you? At least you have a man to beat, Cam. Can’t beat him if I don’t have him.” She brushed her hands together to rid the crumbs, raising a brow.

Cam was Harry’s partner for as long as Y/N had been doing tag-a-longs with Harry, making Cam her best friend. Cam looked like a young Lenny Kravitz, too bad he had a husband.

Cam laughed, “I would. But I have also screwed my husband in an alley, so I have been on both sides.”

Y/N had laughed at Cam’s confession, making grabby hands at Harry’s coffee, which he had gladly offered. Their captain walked in informing them of a call for a homicide in an abandoned warehouse, Harry and Cam being the lead detectives. Harry and Cam grabbed their jackets as Y/N grabbed her messenger bag and coat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cam read the case briefing on the way to the scene. “Two dead females, mid to late twenties, gunshot wounds to the head.” Y/N noticed that a lot of cases similar to this have been popping up. The city was becoming full of dead girls.

Harry made note of the communalities. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were full of drugs and sexually assaulted too. Similar to that case we had just the other day and the one last week.”

They get to the scene and walk into the warehouse. Y/N made sure to stay behind and keep her distance, not wanting to get in the way or contaminate the scene. She had pulled her camera out of her bag, walking around the warehouse to get some pictures.

After Harry and Cam cleared the scene, Harry went to go find Y/N. He had noticed that she was on her way to the crime scene, causing him to smile and shake his head before making his way over. Harry got to her before she could sneak under the tape.

“What do you think you’re doing, love?” He had his arms crossed across his chest with a furrow to his brow and a scowl to his pout. Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin and clutched her camera to her chest.

“Fuck, H! Don’t do that!” She turned to look at Harry, he looked pissed.

“You know you can’t go on the scene.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought that since they are likely all connected it would be a big piece, that maybe getting the word out with some pictures would get you a lead. I’m so sorry, H. I just think that it could be a big break is all.”

How could he say no to her?

She was thinking she could help with her writing and she wanted to assist Harry in closing the case. His face softened and he rolled his head on his neck, lifting the crime scene tape. “Alright love, you know the rules.”

“No faces, no details.” She flashed him a smile as she ducked beneath the tape, her skirt slit rising up to show off her lace panties and garters. Harry knew that her holster was strapped to her thigh as it has been as long as he has known her. He swallowed the lump in his throat when she stood up and adjusted the skirt to cover herself.

She practically skipped to the scene, adjusting her shutter speed and her lense before taking pictures. Harry was watching, heart swelling when she was smiling at the viewfinder at the perfect picture.

“Come on babe, got some place to stop before heading back.” He nodded his head toward the open door for her to follow. Cam had gone with the coroner to follow-up on the bodies.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had stopped at a burger place, ordering way too much food for just himself. Y/N decided to not ask about it, assuming it was for his coworkers. When they drove into an unknown area, Y/N finally asked, “Where are we going?”

Harry just smiled as the pulled up to an empty lot under a bridge, which was a well known area for sex workers known as “The Cherry Pit”. Y/N was confused as to why Harry would go here with her in the car.

Harry parked and grabbed the bags of food before getting out of the car. Y/N stayed in the car, watching the scene unfold.

The girls had all come to see Harry as he was passing the bags out, coming back to the car to get the case of water out of the trunk. He took it back over to the girls, handing out the bottles. Y/N watched as he stood there talking to the girls, a few giving him a hug before he walked back to the car.

Y/N was watching his every move, looking more confused as he didn’t discuss what had just happened, rather reaching for a bag of food for Y/N and himself, him digging right in.

“Care to explain why you are feeding a bunch of hookers?”

“Sex workers.” He swallowed the bite of burger in his mouth, “They prefer sex workers, love. I had noticed one of the girls at the crime scene today was part of this crew so I figured that I would stop and chat. They don’t give information for nothing.” Harry smirked at that and Y/N felt a ping of jealousy course through her on what else Harry has done with them to get information.

Harry noticed that Y/N hadn’t touched her food, looking up at her and noticed the pull to her face. “You alright, baby?”

Both were frozen. In the years that they had known each other, Harry had never called her ‘baby’. Love, darling, babe, but never ‘baby’.

Harry brushed it off by clearing his throat and telling her to “eat up”. He crinkled the burger wrapper and threw it into the bag before turning the ignition, driving her home. Harry made sure to walk her up to her door, like he does every night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was past 2am when Y/N looked at her clock, waking up to knocking at her door. She grumbled as she stumbled to the door. Clad only in an oversized college t-shirt and bare legs, she opened the door to see Harry standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

He was a little scruffy on the chin, button up opened, exposing his white tank top that was tucked in his trousers. He looked up at her with his hair falling into his eyes and giving a soft smile. His eyes held his signature tequila glaze.

“Hi love, you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, H. It’s past two in the morning and I was sleeping.” She rubbed her face with her hands to wake herself up.

“Just gotta make sure you’re safe, baby.” He said it again, but she will blame the alcohol this time. Harry blinked his eyes slowly before opening them to scan her body.

She opened the door, allowing Harry to trudge his heavy limbs into her apartment. This was a regular thing as of late; Harry gets off of work, goes to the pub, shows up at her’s. Harry makes his way to the couch, plopping down before kicking off his boots and placing his gun, cuffs, and badge on the table, slipping off his button up. Y/N was in the kitchen getting Harry water and something to eat.

Y/N walked out with a plate in one hand and water in the other. She thrusted the cup at Harry telling him to drink and placed the plate with the grilled cheese on the arm of the couch. She curled up on the other end, putting a blanket over her lap.

Harry drank his water and ate his sandwich while Y/N was attempting to keep her eyes open. She wanted to make sure he had something in his stomach before she crawled back into bed.

Harry placed his plate and cup on the table, which Y/N promptly got up to put in the sink, getting Harry another glass of water and Tylenol. She handed them to Harry before pulling out a spare pillow and blanket for him to sleep on the couch. Harry stood up to pull off his trousers, attempting to not fall over, while Y/N made up the couch for him.

Y/N tucked him in once he laid down, turning off the light and kissing his forehead before walking back to her room, keeping the door open if he needed anything. Harry laid there, staring at the ceiling, listening to make sure that Y/N was safe and asleep before he dozed off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had gotten off of work early so him and Cam went to the pub, both clad in their off duty clothes. Cam was in a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans while Harry was wearing light washed jeans, a Hawaiian patterned button up with a black zip-up jacket over top. They walked straight up to the bar, leaning on it while waiting for their drinks.

Harry was scanning the pub after him and Cam had a laugh about a terrible joke he had just told. Harry’s eyes land on her, across the bar with a group of friends. Y/N was standing by the table, clad in a black dress that fit her way too perfectly and a pair of heels that made her legs go on for days. He couldn’t help but stare.

Cam looked over his shoulder seeing what had caught Harry’s attention. “Shall I grab you a rag for that chin of your’s Styles?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

Cam let out a laugh and noticed that Y/N had made her way over. “Good evening boys! Nice to see you when there isn’t a dead body present. What are we having?”

She was drunk. Harry could see it in her eyes, he knows that look all too well since he has that look more often than not as of late. It looked good on her, it gave her a glow.

“Whatever you want sweetheart.” Harry knows that voice, he hears it frequently. The three of them turn to see the intruder in their bubble.

Jeremy Williams, Action News Reporter, stood there giving an overly bleached smile. “Can I get you a drink sweetheart?”

Y/N looked like a fish out of water with her mouth gaping. Jeremy was well known by all reporters so the fact that he was offering to get her a drink was a big deal. She had nodded to give him permission to order her a spirit.

Harry didn’t like this guy in the first place and now that he is talking to Y/N, he really doesn’t like him. He is making her laugh and she is leaning into him. He hates this guy. She is touching his arm before she reaches for her drink. He loathes this guy.

“If looks could kill, Styles.” Cam muttered into his glass before taking a swig. Harry looked at Cam before downing the rest of his drink, quickly ordering another one while he watches on. He noticed that Jeremy is getting closer as Y/N is trying to move away. Jeremy’s hand was on her waist and she had pushed it away, multiple times.

Harry couldn’t help but make his way over to them. When he got there, Y/N was making an effort to push Jeremy away. Harry gripped the back of his shirt to pull him away from Y/N, twisting his arm behind his back, slamming his face to the bar.

“The lady clearly doesn’t want you touching her. If you lay another hand on her, I will break it. Got it?”

“Alright! Alright! I got it!” Getting out of Harry’s grip before walking out of the pub.

“You alright, baby?” Checking over her to make sure there was no blemish on her perfect skin.

“H, I’m fine I was handling it.” She was stumbling, clearly intoxicated. Harry had a grip on her waist and she leaned in closer to him, hands resting on his chest.

“You’re drunk, love.”

“So are you.” She looked up at him while flicking his chin with her pointer finger. “Get me a drink, H.”

How could he say no?

A few drinks later, they are utterly plastered. Harry walked her home from the pub, arm wrapped around her for both of their stability.

Harry walked her to her door where she fumbled with her key, it dropping multiple times. She had bent over to pick up the keys, unintentionally pushing her plump bum into his groin. She popped up when she heard a groan fall from Harry’s lips. She turned around showing her keys with a drunken triumphant smile.

She fell against the door and Harry quickly wrapped his hands on her hips to prevent her from falling but it was too late since she had hit her head on the door. She let out a giggle followed by an “ow” and a pout grew across her face.

Harry put his hand on the back of her head to rub where she had hit. As he looked down at her then leaned down to place a kiss on her lips.

Her lips molded with his, her hands on his chest, tugging at his jacket. Harry pressed his body to her’s and he began to kiss down her cheek, jaw, and neck. She was gasping for air.

“H… H, we need to stop.”

“No, baby. Please? Just… please?” He continued to kiss along her neck as she was tugging at his hair, making him let out a groan.

“Harry, not like this. We’re drunk. I don’t want us like this.” She pushed him away, kissing him gently before she unlocked her door. “Good night, H.” Closing the door behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry walked into his apartment, slamming the door before walking to his refrigerator to grab a beer. He popped it open, taking a swig before walking to his living room. He clicked on the TV as he set the beer on the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket and Hawaiian shirt, leaving him in his jeans and white tank top.

Action News started to play, Jeremy’s face showing on his screen. Harry grumbled “prick” before taking another drink of his beer. Harry got increasingly annoyed, frustrated, and drunk as he continued to watch the news.

Harry turned off the TV with a huff, finishing his beer. He gave an agonizing, pitiful groan out of frustration. He could only think of one way that he could get the tension out of his body.

He grabbed his laptop to pull up Pornhub, looking at the thumbnails with none piquing his interests. He let the cursor hover a few of the videos to get a preview. He finally stumbled upon a video that looked like it would do the job.

Harry hit the play button, making the video full screen. While the ad began to play, he undid his belt and pushed his jeans and briefs down his thighs. He had pumped some of his hand lotion that he keeps on the side table into his right palm while his left hand pushed up his tank top.

The video began as Harry warmed up the lotion in his palm and between his fingers. The girl in the video had been bent over with the POV actor playing with her ass, giving a few spanks and gropes. When she looked over her shoulder all he could see was Y/N.

His mind began to wander as he began to stroke himself, thinking of Y/N bent over while he gave her a good spanking. The next scene was a shot of him entering the girl from behind, stretching her to the brink. Harry wanted to spread Y/N open, making her moan out like the girl in the video. He knew that the actress was being over dramatic, knowing that Y/N’s sounds would make him crumble.

Harry’s toes curled into his throw rug now that all he can see is Y/N in the video. She is now on her back with her tits bouncing while he rams into her. He thinks of her mewls as his fist begins to pump faster.

When Harry opens his eyes from his little fantasy, the girl on the screen is riding the man with his hand around her throat. Harry’s hand around Y/N’s throat would be the most beautiful sight he would ever see. Her eyes rolling to the back of her head, moaning out his name, pulsing around his cock.

It was all too much for Harry. His hand stroking furiously as he imagined the face she would make as she was cumming around his cock, the pulsing, the moans. Harry had been moaning the whole time he had been stroking himself but now he was shameless. His back was arching and his head thrown back as he let out a loud moan, cumming all over his stomach, painting his laurels, butterfly, and the trail of pubic hair.

He was panting and sweating and the video wasn’t even done yet. Harry had never felt so light headed from masturbating, muttering a “holy shit”, all because he was thinking of her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N had already been at the precinct when Harry walked in. She was sitting on his desk, sipping from his mug, as if nothing had happened the night prior. She smiled up at him with a “Morning, H”, like any other day. Maybe she was so drunk she forgot about their kiss, now thankful that they didn’t take it further if that was the case.

“Morning, love.”

He took the mug from her hand and took his first sip looking at her while doing so, smiling when he handed it back. Maybe he forgot about last night. Either that or he was really good at covering up because she feels that she is being obvious, looking at his lips and tensing up when their hands touch when passing the mug.

They had gone over the cases that seem to have connections with these girls. There are a few leads but nothing strong enough for a conviction.

“There is Julian Michaels, a 34 year old white male. Works in the stock market, no wife, no children, likes his girls young. Word on the street is he keeps the books.” Harry had taped his picture to the board as Y/N was writing this all down.

Cam grabbed another picture and posted it on the board next to Julian’s. “This is Marcus Stevens. Young one, 23 years old, Black kid. Has been seen around The Cherry Pit and multiple clubs. We think that he is the recruiter for these girls.”

“And last but not least, Eddy O’Reilly, 32 year old Irish American. The kingpin, the leader of all this mess. Multiple statements have been made placing O’Reilly in the area of the murders on multiple occasions. History of muling drugs across the border, history of incarcerations for possession and distribution, prostitution, and sexual assault. If we get this bastard, we finish this.” Harry was staring at his mug shot that was now posted in the center of the board.

The captain walked in with their case for the day. Another dead girl was found by the river, same MO as the other girls that have been popping up on their radar. Harry knew this girl from The Cherry Pit, being one of the younger girls.

Harry was squating by her body, ran his hand over his face before resting his hand on his mouth. He stood up and walked to Y/N, who was looking up at him expectantly. She could sense something was wrong.

Harry huffed out a puff of air before resting his hands on his hips. “I knew this one.”

Her eyes went wide, reaching up to hold his jaw in her hands, “Oh my god, H. Are you okay?”

He looked down at her before wrapping his arms around her in a hug, “She was just 18. Little sister of Kerry’s at The Pit.”

Y/N was rubbing her hands on Harry’s back looking over his shoulder to look at the girl, she had remembered her.

There have been too many girls being found around the city. All with a gunshot to the head, drugs in their system, and a recent sexual assault. Y/N had lost the body count but she thinks that it is way past the teens. Something needed to be done.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N went through the drive thru Harry frequents on his way to The Cherry Pit. As she had approached The Pit, she parked away from where the girls were. She was in jeans with a vneck t-shirt and her leather jacket, making sure that her knife was in her boot before exiting the car.

Y/N slowly made her way to the group of girls standing together, most dispersing. Kerry lingering a little before starting to walk away.

“Hey, um , Kerry? Can I chat with you? I brought you a veggie burger.” She held the bag up as a truce. Kerry made her way back to Y/N and reached for the bag.

“I first want to apologize about your sister. It must be hard on you.”

“Yeah. She got into some dumb shit so honestly I’m not surprised but I should have protected her more. She was so young, should have never brought her here but we need the money.”

“No one is blaming you Kerry, shit happens. I’m just sorry it happened to you. I want to help.”

“What is a pretty little reporter like you going to do?”

“My job. I’m going to get the information and figure out who is killing all these girls. That’s why I came here. I was hoping either you or some of the girls would have some information.”

“Harry had already stopped here and talked to us. Not sure what else we could give you.”

“You said your sister got into something that you’re not into. What was it that she was doing?”

Kerry had taken a few fries into her mouth, “She got hired for parties. Some dealers would get together to push product and hire girls to help. The girls always had to fuck these guys but Gena said that it was good money. After seeing her all bruised up and high off her ass all the time, I told her to stop and stay here with me but she said the money was too good. Now look what happened.” Kerry began to get tearful, picking at her burger.

Y/N was rubbing Kerry’s back, letting her cry and grieve the loss of her sister. Y/N got an idea while she was comforting her.

“Do you know how I could get into one of those parties?”

Kerry looked up with a hint of fear as well as the tears still in her eyes and gave Y/N a nod.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N was in a tight number, showing more skin than she ever had. Her hair and makeup was done up and she made sure her holster was secure before putting on her agonizingly high heels. After getting ready, Y/N went to the address on the slip on paper Kerry had given to her.

She knocked on the door, giving the password to the man guarding before she was escorted to a room. The room was full of girls, no more than 25 years old. Most of them looked younger than 18. A few huddled together, Y/N gave them all a once over. Most, if not all, had marks and bruises and looked like they were crashing from a high. Y/N took a seat off to the side alone, trying to take in as much as possible.

Two men walked in to tell the girls to get up. They all stood in a row while these men blind folded them. Y/N’s hand was hovering over her thigh but she wanted to get more information before she made any rash decisions.

Two hands gripped her shoulders to guide her as she felt his breath on her neck, one of the men muttering “fresh meat”. Another man laughed before saying, “O’Reilly and Michaels will like this one.” A shiver went through her thinking that she might be put in front of the two men Harry and Cam had been hunting down.

She heard one of the girls scream before hearing a slap and a thud, causing Y/N to jump. “You do as I tell you bitch, got it? Or you’ll have it worse.” She could hear the girl fumble to get up and then they were all pushed outside, shoved into what seemed like a van.

The van had stopped and the girls were filed out. She knew when she was inside the building because of the heat and the music. The blind folds were taken off and all the girls were handed shots of a clear liquid. Y/N had hesitated until one of the men gave her a look and started walking towards her. She downed the shot which she now knew was a cheap tequila.

The girls dispersed, walking all in different directions. Some went straight to men, others to the stash of drugs on the table. Y/N decided to walk further into the house. As she was walking, she felt her hands and feet start to go numb, her vision became slightly blurry but she was able to shake off for the moment.

She was stopped with a grip to her wrist and when she had turned, there was Julian holding on to her. “Well, look at you. You must be new.”

Y/N couldn’t find her words. Her tongue felt heavy and her vision was getting more blurred. She nodded at him before leaning against the wall for support. Julian surrounded her with himself. “You alright, babe? Look like you need to lay down.” Julian’s hands were running down her sides before gripping her hips and around to her bum. She gave a weak attempt at a push considering she’s not sure how her arms work at this point.

“Bathroom. Need a bathroom.” She stumbled out of Julian’s grip, somehow finding the bathroom but not before she saw O’Reilly in a room surrounded by men. She stood for a moment, trying to clear her vision to confirm it was him. He looked up at her with a sinister smile and she knew that was the guy.

Y/N quickly stumbled into the bathroom, immediately tumbling to the floor. She made sure to lock the door before reaching for her phone in her bra.

“Hi love, you alright?”

An incoherent call of Harry’s name had him in a panic. “Baby, where are you? Are you okay?”

A mumble of “They're here, Michaels and O’Reilly. I saw them.”

“Fuck baby! What did you do?! Where are you?! I’m on my way with the squad but you need to tell me where you are okay? Baby, please!”

She was silent as Harry grabbed his jacket and told everyone at the precinct they need to go, get squad cars, and to follow him. Harry was frantic.

“Baby come on, please?! Where are you?! Drop me a pin, talk to me! Fuck! Just tell me you are okay!”

Still nothing. Then a notification popped up saying that Y/N had dropped a pin of her location. He let out a sigh of relief,  “Thank you baby. Please, stay on the line with me okay? We are on our way.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The police barged into the house, knocking down the front door, causing everyone to scatter. The police collected who they could. Cam grabbed Julian while their captain got O’Reilly, Harry was frantically looking around for Y/N.

He couldn’t find her, causing him to pull at his hair and grabbing anyone he could at the party, demanding them to tell him where she was. He noticed the bathroom door was shut so he went to open it, seeing it was locked. He knew she was in there.

Harry stepped back to get some leverage before putting all his strength into kicking down the door. He saw Y/N laying on the floor passed out with her phone in hand. Her hair was covering her face and the skirt of her dress had ridden up.

He quickly collected her into his arms to sit her on his lap in front of the toilet, quickly shoving his middle and forefinger down her throat. She automatically started retching, the contents of her stomach spilling into the toilet as Harry held her hair and rubbed her back.

“Let it all out baby. That’s it. You’ll feel better soon.”

The captain came in with a bottle of water and a cold wet cloth that Harry promptly put on the back of Y/N’s neck. Opening the bottle for her to have a few sips. Harry pushed her hair out of her face, reminding her to take it slow.

She had tears in her eyes, her makeup was smudged and running. She let out a croak before Harry shook his head. “I’m taking you home and you’re going to stay with me tonight. Need to keep an eye on you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had his jacket around Y/N’s shoulders as they were getting out of his car. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder while guiding her up the stairs. Y/N still not feeling completely clear followed Harry into his apartment. She stood in the entryway, tears threatening to fall, while she watched Harry walk in and turn on the lights.

His place was modern with nothing showing personality. Harry always showed up to her place in the middle of the night, so she had never been to Harry’s. Now she sees why he always comes to her; his place was cold and lonely.

Harry walked back to her with a glass of water and a hand out to help guide her to his bedroom. He sat her down on the bed and got out one of his police department crew neck sweatshirts and a pair of boxers. He went into the ensuite to turn on the shower and lay out some towels, all doing so without saying a word.

Y/N knew he was pissed. What she had done was reckless and she put herself and everyone else at that party at risk if she were to be found out. She knows that he is probably more pissed that she didn’t tell him or run it by him before she jumped the gun so that he could make sure to be there so that she is safe. She watched him as the tears finally fell down her cheeks. He was avoiding looking at her. That was the worst part of her night, and she was drugged and groped at.

Harry nodded his head to the shower while he leaned against his dresser, arms and legs crossed while he looked at the floor. Y/N got up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door before she stripped down her clothes and her walls. She started to sob as the water ran over her body, attempting to wash away that icky feeling she was having. She took her time, trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation that she will be having the moment she walks out of the bathroom. She dried off before she put on the clothes Harry had left her, noticing that there was a toothbrush for her. Gladly brushing her teeth before tying her wet hair up into a bun at the crown of her head.

She walked out and there was a plate of food and more water waiting for her on Harry's bedside table. Harry walked back into the room with his sweatpants on and a plain white t-shirt. He looked exhausted with a furrow still in his brow.

“What were you thinking?” He was soft in his delivery and a flood of worry took over Harry’s face. “You could have been killed. Do you understand that? If they would have found out who you were…” He was pulling at his hair and letting out a huff. “Fuck baby, I would be a mess. I wouldn’t know what I would have done if… I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Y/N had been curled up at the head of Harry's bed, tears freely flowing as her actions and the events of the night had hit her, how she had made Harry feel. “H… I am so sorry! I wasn’t thinking… I just wanted to help!” She let the sobs wreck through her body as Harry was making his way to her. He grabbed her face and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. She let herself curl into him, climbing on his lap and letting him hold her. He rocked her gently as they were both crying.

Harry was kissing at her temple as he whispered, “We got them, thanks to you.” She had let out a sigh of relief, glad that this would all be over.

“I didn’t see Marcus there…”

“He came to the precinct willingly and made a deal with the DA.” He continued to kiss her head and rub her sides while continuously rocking her.

“There were so many girls there. Most were under 18, H. They are just kids.” She let another sob past her lips as she grabbed at his shirt.

“They are safe now baby, home where they belong. Just like you, because of you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/N woke up when the light filtered through Harry’s blinds. She was laying on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her. She looked up at Harry, whose scruff is growing a little more and his curls flattening to his head from his night’s rest. She pushed back what hair had been on his forehead, Harry leaning into the touch. She smiled before she nuzzled back to his chest, feeling Harry’s lips on her forehead.

“Did you sleep alright?” She let out a hum while nodding on his chest. She felt a flood of emotions start to resurface and she gripped Harry tighter to her. Harry noticed and quickly reached his hand to caress her face, pulling her closer to him. “It’s okay baby, I’m here.”

She took a deep breath to try and ground herself, focusing on Harry's breathing, relaxing back into him. He held her tight, making her feel safe. That’s all Harry wanted, to make her feel safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had been checking up on Y/N every night since the night she stayed with him. It had been over two weeks and Y/N had to admit that her feelings for Harry had become stronger. She looked forward to Harry stopping by her place every night and was hoping that he would make a move on her because the tension was getting unbearable.

Harry had stopped by tonight with Chinese in hand and a bottle of wine. She had a movie queued up on the TV awaiting his arrival. He was still in his suit from work, all grey with only a white tank top under his suit jacket. His hair flopped over to the side and his stubble ever present.

She had been in her sleep shorts and tank top under Harry’s police sweatshirt that he had let her wear a few weeks prior. Harry let himself in and made his way to the kitchen to plate up their Chinese.

After eating their food, Harry had pulled Y/N to cuddle into his side while they finished the movie. They were sharing a glass of wine, similar to how they share Harry’s mug every morning. Harry pulled her legs across his lap, gently rubbing up and down her calves and thighs.

His fingers felt nice on her skin; warm, palms were soft while the tips had a grit to them. She cuddled closer, pulling his arm tighter around her. She nosed his cheek before giving it a sweet kiss. She kissed again before kissing his jaw then kissing his sweet spot just below his ear. His hand tensed on her thigh and she gave it another peck.

“Thank you, H. For checking up on me, for protecting me, for saving me.” She looked up at him, holding his jaw before leaning in to give him a kiss. He pulled her closer and she deepened the kiss, his hand trailing to her bum to pull her as close as he could in the position they were in.

Y/N quickly got uncomfortable, moving to straddle his lap to get in a more comfortable position where they could kiss and be close. She put her hands into his hair, pulling him into a deep, searing kiss.

Harry had begun to run his hands up her body, under the sweatshirt and tank top. He kept one hand on her lower back to keep her close while his other hand trailed up and down her spine before rubbing up and down her thigh. She started to kiss along his jaw again, making her way to his weakness.

She gave a lick below his ear before pulling the skin between her lips. Harry let out a moan as his hips thrusted up to meet hers. She gladly met his with a roll of her own.

“Baby…” Harry was panting as her lips began to trail down his throat. She was untucking his tank top, pulling it over his head. She let her eyes and hands trail his body while her hips continued to roll against him. She pulled off the sweatshirt, leaving her in her thin tank top and sleep shorts.

Harry let his hands caress her chest, rubbing her nipples until they peaked. He pulled a nipple into his mouth through her top, causing her to throw her head back. Her nails were digging into his shoulder as Harry sunk his teeth into the plush of her chest.

“H, fuck… I need you. God… please, just... touch me, fuck me. Do anything...please.”

Harry looked up at her with lustful eyes and his hands continued to roam her dips and valleys. He gripped behind her knees to wrap them around his waist before he stood up. He continued to kiss along her skin. Gripping her ass as he walked her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, kissing all of her exposed skin before he stood up to take off his trousers. As he was about to crawl over to her, she pushed him to sit against the headboard. She straddled his lap again, pulling her own shirt off, exposing her chest fully to Harry. She took Harry’s hands and put them on her chest, placing her hands over his to make him squeeze. Y/N let her head roll back and let her hips take control.

“Baby, you keep doing that, I’m not going to last.” He was watching her every move, his breath heavy and fast as she did a final roll of her hips before she stood up to take off her shorts. She climbed back on top of him, grabbing his shoulder for stability. She had gripped his length, causing Harry to roll his head back and let out a moan. She rolled her wet folds over his scorching length, both moaning out at how wet she was and how easily he slid against her.

Harry gripped her hips causing her to stop. “Baby, I’m serious, I’m gonna cum.” He was whimpering and gave Y/N a pleading look.

She lined up the head of his cock to her entrance before she fully sank down, taking all of him in one thrust. Harry let out a roaring moan, causing Y/N to grip the headboard with one hand and scratching his shoulder with the other.

Y/N was shameless in her movements, truly fucking Harry into oblivion, causing the bed to rattle and squeak with her rapid movements up and down his cock. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long, especially with the noises they were making, both loud with their moans.

“Fuck, Harry. Shit!” He could feel her pulsing around him, knowing she was close. Harry was trying his hardest to hold on for her but it was getting harder for him, especially when she leaned back, resting her hands on Harry’s knees, exposing her front fully to Harry. Harry pulled her nipple into his mouth as he lifted his knees to pull her closer.

Harry had let go first, cumming inside of her, letting her use him to get herself off. She wasn’t far behind Harry after she felt him pulsing against her inner walls. Harry had pulled her close, kissing any skin his lips could touch before resting his chin in her collar.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Y/N had let out a giggle and pushed his hair back, causing him to softly close his eyes with his head tipped back before looking back up to her.

“No need to be sorry, H. We have both waited way too long for that. I’m honestly surprised I lasted as long as I did.”

Harry continued to kiss her skin, quickly sweeping her up, causing her to squeal out as he walked them into her bathroom to join in the shower, both giggling and kissing along the way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry and Y/N had been walking into the precinct together for the last few days, also leaving together every day. Harry had been staying with Y/N every night since they had slept together.

Harry had his fingers laced between Y/N’s, giving her a peck before moving to fill his mug for them. Cam leaned forward on his desk watching Y/N smile as she watched Harry.

“Well aren’t you two just the cutest!” Y/N looked over her shoulder giving Cam a wink. Cam was beaming as Harry walked over, handing the mug to his girl before giving her a kiss. Cam felt like he could squeal with giddiness, shipping them since day one.

Harry sat in his chair at his desk, pulling Y/N closer to him by the back of the knee, taking her heel off to massage her stocking covered foot. He kissed her knee, causing her to giggle before taking a sip of coffee. Y/N saw the case files on Harry’s desk that had been placed there that morning by the captain. She grabbed the files, reading them aloud for Harry and Cam.

After reading the cases, they were on their way for a day's work. Y/N had to leave early to conduct an interview with a survivor of a mass shooting. She had kissed Harry goodbye, promising to make him dinner when he got home that night. Harry smiled into the kiss, pursing his lips again to smear a soft kiss back on to hers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She had stopped by the local store to grab the ingredients for chicken carbonara and a bottle of wine, she even grabbed a bouquet of flowers to place in the center of the table. Y/N put a Spotify playlist on her TV as background while puttering around her apartment and cooking dinner. Harry had walked in when she was finishing up plating the dinner.

Harry had quickly taken over, setting up the table and pouring their glasses of wine, pulling out the chair for Y/N. He had pulled her foot up to rest on his lap while they ate their dinner. Harry had talked about his cases that he had handled that day while Y/N discussed her interview.

They worked together to clean up after dinner, refilling their glasses of wine before cuddling on the couch to watch some reruns.

Harry began to give her soft kisses before he laid her down on her back. She began to run her hands through his hair, humming when Harry began to kiss down her neck.

“Move in with me.”

Harry froze his movements, kissing her cheek and looked her in the eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it. You’re here more often than not and I need you to protect me.” She continued to play with his hair, causing him to melt into her palm and softly close his eyes. Y/N had kissed the tip of his nose before giving him a soft kiss to his lips. “What do you say, handsome?”

How could he say no?

“Of course baby, I would love to.” He began to kiss her again, making her giggle as he pressed quick, continuous kisses to her lips. Harry had quickly sat up, throwing his girl over his shoulder to carry her to her, no, their bed. He threw her on their bed, causing her to laugh out when she landed, making a smile grow across Harry's face.

Harry crawled between her legs and continued to assault her with kisses all over. He started to push up her skirt, exposing her garters and holster. Harry had undone the holster, kissing the now exposed skin where it was resting as he placed it on the nightstand. Harry then unclasped the garters that were holding up her stockings, rolling them slowly down each of her legs, continuing to leave marks from his wet lips in their wake.

Y/N began to undo her own top as she watched Harry undo his. She had shimmied to the top of the bed as she was taking off her skirt. Harry had taken his badge, gun, and cuffs off of his belt, setting them on the side table before taking his own pants off.

She laid down for him as he straddled her hips. Her hands were tracing his pecs and sides, moving to his back to trail down his spine before digging her fingers into the dimples of his lower back.

Harry watched her as she was admiring him, looking down and admiring her as well. He started to kiss her collars and chest, gripping her thighs in his palms. Y/N turned her head to allow him more access. She opened her eyes and saw the side table.

“Harry…”

“Mmm, what baby?” He continued to kiss her chest, unclasping her bra.

“I want you to use the cuffs.” Harry looked up at her, wide eyed and mouth gaping, his lips slick and plump. He looked over to the side table to see where the cuffs were glistening in the moonlight.

“You want me to cuff you baby?” She was looking down at him, biting her lip with a nod.

“Please?” She was already lifting her hands above her head for him.

How could he say no?

He sat up on his knees as he reached for the cuffs, warming them in his hands. He took her right wrist into his palm, kissing the inner flesh before placing the cuff around the delicate skin. “Tell me if it’s too tight or uncomfortable, okay baby?”

“I will H, no worries.” She smiled up at him as he leaned over to thread the cuffs through the headboard before kissing and placing her left wrist in the cuff. Y/N gave a tug for good measure.

Harry kissed down her arm before he planted a kiss on her lips. She pulled his lower lip between her teeth, causing him to hiss before she let go, placing a kiss on it. Harry continued to kiss his way down her body, watching her squirm with how gentle he is being.

He started to kiss her mound through her lacy panties, letting his tongue dampen the fabric. He continued his motions lower until he was laying on his belly with his face focused on her center. He gave gentle kisses to her thighs before he let his lips and tongue explore her core through her panties.

Harry heard the chain of the cuffs rattle as his girl began to whimper. He continued to take his time with her through her panties. She moaned when she felt his fingers graze her center, pulling her panties to the side for Harry to gain full access.

Once she was fully exposed to him, he was insatiable. He was moaning into her, gripping her hips to bury himself deeper. She could hear him lapping and sucking on her, the feeling of his admiration making her light headed and dizzy. He made sure to kiss, lick, and suck on every inch of her, leaving her dripping for him just so that he could lap up her slickness.

Y/N was pulling hard on the cuffs and her moans increased in volume. She was so close to tipping over the edge that it was almost too much to handle. Almost.

Harry pulled her clit into his mouth one final time, being sure to flick the tip of his tongue against it.

“Fuck! Harry! Oh, God!” She was crying from the overwhelming orgasm that had wrecked through her. Her thighs clamping around Harry’s head and her nails biting into her palms.

Harry had to use his strength to get his head out of the vice grip, giggling when he looked up at his girl who was completely fucked out. Y/N moaned when she saw Harry sitting up on his knees with his face completely slick with her.

“Well fuck, Harry.” She was still panting, baby hairs sticking to her face, chest and cheeks flushed.

Harry began to spread her legs open again, looking at the work of art he had helped create. Lips slick, mound bruised with love bites, her whole center swollen and flushed with arousal. He used his thumb to trace up her slit, collecting her slickness before gently rolling her clit. He knew she was sensitive, giving him a hiss when he reached her overly sensitive nub. It was obvious that she liked it because her legs spread wider for him.

He leaned forward to hover over her, bringing his now slick thumb to brush across her lips. She gladly opened her mouth and took his thumb between her lips to suck off her juices. Humming around his thumb, she looked up at him with blissful eyes.

Harry pulled his thumb out of her mouth, smearing it against her lower lip before latching his lips to hers. He rolled his hips into hers as he continued massaging her tongue with his. He reached his hands up to the cuffs and massaged her wrists with his thumbs.

“You alright baby? Want them off?”

“I’m okay, keep them on.” She thrusted her hips up into him, “I like it.”

His hands roamed down her arms from her wrists, grazing her sides and massaging her plush hips before he reached for her spine to pull her panties down by grabbing the elastic on her lower back.

Y/N lifted her hips up for him and watched as he admired her body. This certainly isn’t the first time that they have been intimate but Harry always makes it feel that way.

“I’m so lucky to finally call you my girl. I’ve wanted to for so long. You have no idea how happy I am, baby.” He was running his hands up and down the front of her thighs that he was settled between. “I love you so much.”

Y/N began to smile up at him, turning her head into her arm to hide her blush.

“Gonna tell me that you love me when I’m all tied up for you?” She pushed her knee into his side as she giggled, biting her lip.

“I’ll tell you every day, and in every position, how much I love you.” He leaned down to smear his lips against hers again, showing her how much he truly loved her.

“I love you too, H.”

Harry began to kiss her jaw and neck as he stripped his briefs off of himself. He held her face in his hand before trailing it down her body to pump himself a few times before lining his tip to her center. She angled her hips up for him, giving him a cheeky smile when their eyes connected.

He slowly entered her, causing them both to moan out. He leaned on his forearm that was resting by her arm, continuing to rub his thumb across her cuffed wrist. He was slowly rolling his hips against hers, causing her to whimper at the friction.

Y/N eyes closed softly, like she was just starting to fall asleep. Her mouth was agape letting soft pants and whimpers fall free from her lips. She tipped her head back into the pillow, stretching out her neck. He was in awe watching her.

Harry’s free hand roamed her flesh, ending on her jaw. His thumb ran across her flushed throat as he began to kiss along the tight skin.

“Harry…” her body was like a magnet to his, naturally wanting to be close. “Harry, please?”

“Mmm what, baby? What do you need?” He continued to kiss along her skin.

“Choke me.” Y/N, always surprising him. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please?”

How could he ever say no to her?

He gave her a nod, gently moving his hand to cup her throat. “Tell me if it’s too much, if you want me to stop.”

“I will.” She took in a deep breath as his grip tightened slightly. She let out a moan as he adjusted his fingers and tightened a little more. A smile crawled across her face as Harry began to thrust into her harder.

“You like this baby?”

Y/N moaned out a ‘yes’ as Harry picked up the pace of his hips. Thrusting into her that the bed was moving and squeaking on its frame.

Harry felt her pulse around him, causing him to moan her name before gripping tighter on her throat and thrusting at an uneven pace.

She gasped at the grip, tightening her thighs around Harry, pulling him closer by digging her heel into the flesh of his bum. She choked out his name and he felt her walls give a tight clench around him before they continued to pulse.

He let go of her throat causing her pent up moans to spew from her lips. He couldn’t hold back any more, freezing his hips flushed to hers to spill himself into her. He held her face, moaning as he kissed her. The metal of the cuffs clank against the headboard as she tried to wrap her arms around him.

Y/N whined, tugging some more causing Harry to giggle. Harry reached up to uncuff her and rubbed her wrists as he kissed them. He looked down at her glowing flushed face, planting another kiss on her lips. “I love you, baby.” Kissing her again.

“I love you too.” They had adjusted in the bed to cuddle, making the bed groan and squeak in their movements. Causing Y/N to laugh out and Harry to let out a frustrated groan.

“We need a new bed.” Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, rolling off of Harry which caused the bed to creak again, only adding fuel to the fire of Y/N’s laughter.

Harry kissed her with a laugh himself, “We are definitely getting a new bed”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cam and his husband had helped Y/N and Harry move into their new place in a better part of town. They were all exchanging bum taps and boxes as they went up and down the stairs from the moving truck. They were on their last load when Harry and Cam’s husband started to put together the frame to their new bed.

Cam and Y/N went to go pick up beer and pizza, setting it all up in the middle of their empty living room. Harry laid his head in Y/N’s lap as they ate and laughed at stories they all shared.

Cam and his husband kissed and hugged Y/N and Harry goodbye as they thanked them for all their help. Harry had kicked the door shut, locking it and turning to Y/N with a devious smile. Her eyes went wide as Harry gripped her waist to throw her over his shoulder, letting out a yelp.

“Time to go break in that new bed, baby!”

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Haunted | [Darth Maul x Fem!Reader x Savage Opress]

Notes: 

Lol I said only 1k per request but well… I got too invested xD

Haha, it happened again xD I hope this is somehow what you expected, Anon. Thank you for your request!

Fandoms: Star Wars, The Clone Wars

Warnings: Angst, Death, Alcohol Use, Mention of Rape, Slight OOC, Fluff

Summary: Some men follow Y/N after she got drunk at a bar. She’s not capable of protecting herself but thankfully she has two knights with red lightsabers who take care of her pursuers..

Word Count: 2′262

Taglist: @princessayveke​

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

This is loosely based off my  Cold Skins and Warm Hearts  oneshot!

They hadn't seen each other for a long time. 

Well, it was understandable, the brothers were at one end of the galaxy, causing havoc for the Republic, while she was laying low somewhere on Corellia. 

But although all three of them were busy, they thought of each other from time to time. The brothers more often than her though. 

They could not forget their last encounter, the feelings still too prominent. They needed an answer. 

What feelings did the woman have for them? Were they indeed just platonic? 

So it was no wonder that they actively searched for her. 

And albeit she was trying to lay low, they found her rather easily because of her force presence. Both of the Zabrak could not forget its radiating pull after all. 

But when the brothers found her, they also encountered annoying pests. 

Obviously, they would get rid of them immediately. 

-

Y/N did not have the energy for any trouble today. 

She had been feeling unsafe for a week now, but she wrote it off as her being paranoid after all the things she had gone through. 

It wasn't a mystery she knew she had some trauma after having fought for the Jedi for so long. Her nightmares were proof of that. 

Usually, she wouldn't have tried to find comfort at the bottom of a bottle, but after feeling so stressed out, the fiery heat of Corellian Whiskey felt satisfying in her throat. 

She did drink more than she should have, though. 

But there was no one to tell her to stop, she was her own master now, and she enjoyed it. 

But when she stumbled home, her hand on her lightsaber, while her head spun, she did not expect to be followed. 

She didn't notice at first, her attention muddled from all the alcohol. But after somebody walked by, and rudely bumped into her, Y/N felt a little less smashed, and therefore she noticed the eyes on her that followed her body's every move. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her stomach, and she turned her head slightly to look if somebody was pursuing her, but she was too intoxicated to see clearly. 

The streets in her district were all dimly lit, and only the cantinas and occasional dancer bars had flickering neon lights, which made it hardly possible to see the faces of the few people who were still awake at this hour. 

But she could feel that someone was tailing her. 

Her hand automatically reached for her lightsaber, but there was nothing at her hip. 

Fuck, I didn't take it with me! 

She cursed inwardly and quickened her pace. 

The knowledge of being watched sobered her up enough to remember that she didn't have that many options anymore when it came to a fight. The force wasn't with her any longer. 

Y/N hadn't been able to use it for a few weeks now, that's why she had decided to move away from the Outer Rims where the chance of getting into a fight was much higher. 

But maybe she had made the wrong choice with Corellia. 

The woman knew that she couldn't possibly hold her guard against several attackers while she was drunk. Hence, she could only flee. 

As soon as she turned around a corner, she began to run. 

Genuine fear trickled through her veins, and the former Jedi felt nauseous. 

If she got caught... 

She had a good idea of what could happen and desperately wished that it wouldn't come that far. 

Her breath quickened, she knew she was close to a panic attack, and she dreaded it. 

Y/N saw the familiar green glow of the bar one block away from her small run-down apartment, and she breathed out in relief, only to catch her foot in a pothole and crash face down onto the pavement. 

Her whole world spun, and she knew she was only a few seconds away from throwing up when she heard footsteps approach the alley she had just turned into. 

Fuck, here we go. 

She struggled to get on her knees when a gloved hand suddenly materialized before her, and a deep soothing voice said: 

"Do you need help?" 

She tilted her head upwards and could make out a tall figure with horns. 

"Sa-Savage?" 

Her voice was weak, and before she could even think about why the Zabrak was here, she wheezed and crumbled, her adrenaline rush and fear too overbearing that she fell unconscious.

-

Maul and Savage hadn't expected to see the woman, who had entranced them both, in such a miserable state. 

They had been following her to the bar, trying to come up with a plausible reason why they suddenly showed up, their pride too big to actually just tell the true reason. 

Savage just wanted to walk right in there and say hi, but his older brother wanted to follow the woman some more from the shadows. 

Something was different about her, and they would find out what it was. 

So they waited, waited for a very long time. 

"She seems to be quite a drinker", commented Savage, surprised about the revelation. 

Both of them wouldn't have expected that. 

Y/N L/N didn't seem like a big fan of alcohol. To tell the truth, if they remembered correctly, she had rejected the wine when they had met for the third time. 

So it seemed rather weird for the former Jedi to suddenly go and visit a bar to drink. 

But neither of them knew what had happened to the woman in the last few months, so they couldn't judge if something was wrong with her. 

They loitered around in a small alley from where they had a good view of the bar's entrance. Savage almost fell asleep when his brother gave him a shove, and he stood up out of reflex. 

Maul pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at a small figure leaving the bar. 

Both could immediately feel the connection they had somehow established that one night on Ilum. The emotions from their connection felt weirdly numb. 

Savage frowned, and the two used the force to jump on the small building to get a better view of Y/N. 

If they followed her directly she would probably notice them too soon, and they wanted to avoid that. Although it seemed unlikely that the former Jedi would spot them. 

The woman walked like a sailor, she staggered forward, clearly having drunk too much for her good. 

Worry sprouted in both the brothers' chests, and they followed her silently. Y/N followed the main road, but then she suddenly froze.

It was only for a second, but her head turned back as if she was searching for something. Maul immediately noticed what she was looking for. 

A group of men loafed in a dark corner and ogled the woman hungrily. They seemed to discuss something, and right when Y/N turned back around and started to move faster, they left their corner and began to pursue her. 

Maul concentrated on the force, and he could feel the malicious intentions of the group. 

"...Let's get her today, I know her usual route and..." 

His eyes darkened considerably, anger burned in his chest, and he said with a growling undertone: 

"You go get her, I'm going to crush some insects." 

Savage eyed him from the side, but when he followed the other Zabrak's nod and heard a snippet of the men's conversation, his expression turned sour too, and he snarled: 

"Leave some for me, brother." 

Maul rolled his shoulder, and right before Savage jumped to the next building, he uttered: 

"No promises, these bastards made a mistake I can't forgive." 

He jumped down the building and landed silently right behind a closed food stall.

The men noticed how Y/N turned around a corner, and they hastily followed her. He did too. 

He stalked them like prey, contemplating whether using his lightsaber to obliterate these bugs would cause him more satisfaction than his fists. 

They rounded another corner when they began to run, and Maul decided now was the time to strike. He used the force to close the distance between him and the five men. 

His yellow eyes glistened with rage, but the Zabrak tried to restrain himself. 

"Good evening, gentlemen", he greeted them with a silky voice. 

They turned around abruptly, definitely not liking his sudden appearance. 

"What do you want?", asked one of them annoyed. 

He was a dirty looking human with bleary eyes. He wasn't the only one who seemed to have drunk too much. 

The alcohol plume around the men stank terribly, and Maul snarled in disgust. 

"Oh, I only wanted to inform you that you shall not live to see the dawn in the next few hours." 

Before one of them could even react, he had clenched his raised hand to a fist, and the only Twi'lek of the group began to cough and grab his throat. He crushed the man's windpipe, while his friends shouted in disbelief and shock. 

Maul sneered at their cowardice, and he gleefully wiped out their lives and disgusting plans they had harbored for his love. 

"How dare you look at Y/N with such disgusting thoughts!", he lost his cool and punched one of the men repeatedly, not even showing mercy when the men's face was completely bashed in. 

The noise of breaking bones and their blood-curling screams resounded in the alley, but no one came looking. 

"How convenient", muttered Maul and shook his fist, but then he changed his mind. 

The ignorance of the Corellians might have killed Y/N if he and his brother hadn't shown up. 

The burning fury in his chest did not diminish, instead, it burned even brighter, and he couldn't stop himself from crushing one of the dead men's skull under his boot. 

The crunch calmed him down a little, and he wiped his shoe at one of the other dead bodies. 

Satisfied, Maul turned, and he strode into the alley where Y/N had disappeared, only to see the woman crumble and fall right into his brother's arms. 

"Y/N!" both he and Savage shouted at the same time, full of worry. 

-

When she woke up, she was wrapped in a warm embrace. Her head pounded, and she frowned in pain. 

Where am I? What happened? 

She turned her head only to look straight into Darth Maul's face, the Zabrak she had kissed only a few months ago. 

She blinked, then noticed the arm on her hip didn't belong to Maul. 

A sigh escaped her lips, and she could imagine what had happened. 

It didn't really surprise her to see the brothers, although it probably should have. But it wasn't the first time where they just showed up out of nowhere. 

Y/N breathed out slowly and right when she wanted to sit up, a deep voice muttered: 

"You're awake." 

She turned to her left, Savage's sunflower eyes boring straight into her. 

"Hi", he whispered breathlessly, and she couldn't stop herself from grinning weakly. 

"Kind of a weak greeting, if we think about the fact that we're laying in bed together, wouldn’t you say?" 

The Zabrak's cheeks tinted, and her grin widened. 

The younger brother had a shy side to himself, and she loved it. Mainly because it was such a huge contrast to his tall and intimidating looks. But then he grabbed her hip tighter, and she couldn't stop herself from shrieking. 

His face was suddenly way too close, and he eyed her lips with a somewhat hungry look. 

"Are you suggesting something?", he whispered, and his deep voice resonated in her ears. 

A pleasant shiver ran down her spine but then a voice interrupted them: 

"Savage." 

It was only a single word from his brother, but both the yellow Zabrak and Y/N could hear the threatening undertone and the warning in it. 

She turned again, and Maul squinted his eyes at her. 

"Good to see you too", she mocked, and he lifted an eyebrow. 

"Is it?" 

The mattress dipped behind her when Savage shifted and supported his head on his arm. 

"Would you mind explaining why you drowned yourself in alcohol only to almost get raped?" 

Y/N stiffened, she remembered the last week of feeling unsafe, and she couldn't stop herself from sinking deeper into the bed, her shoulders quivering slightly. 

"I-I was...", she tried to find some words to explain, but the fact that Maul's angry words held so much truth hit her right in the gut. 

She could have been raped. Or kidnapped and killed. 

She remembered her sad attempts of using the force but not succeeding, and she blinked, tears forming in her eyes. She stared at the ceiling of the brother's spaceship, not noticing how Maul's anger turned into worry, and both brothers watched her with burning gazes. 

"Don't worry", said Savage finally, "you're safe now." 

Maul brushed a strand of hair out of her face and Savage wiped her left eye just in case. 

Y/N breathed out slowly, her voice shaky when she muttered: 

"Thanks, guys. I'm really happy to see you again." 

Both Zabrak flashed a grin and then the younger asked: 

"What to sleep some more? You seem to need it." 

She nodded and yawned as if to confirm his words. 

Y/N smiled and warmth spread in her chest, when they wrapped their arms around her again. 

Both brothers simultaneously tilted their heads to give her a kiss on her forehead, but what she didn't notice was the jealous glares they sent each other when they moved back. 

"Sleep some more, Y/N. We got you."

[thefirstknife]

you have a personal vendetta against other blogs bc you keep tagging them asking why they're not talking about this or that issue. essentially, you're policing them about what they should or shouldn't post about. for the record, this isn't a jem defense ask, and you dismissing criticism about your behavior by saying "you sound like someone who only reads jem's blog" is incredibly disrespectful yikes.

I only ever tagged Jem, once. I replied once before to an already existing post, but that's about it. No clue which other blogs you're talking about as being tagged out of the blue by me.

I wondered about Jem in particular because she vagued about the drama and called everyone performative activists who are dogpiling an artist for woke points and I found that very strange because I've seen Jem telling people they're ableist and sexist if they're talking about a theory about Osiris.

No idea how to make this as clear as possible, but I'll give it a try, under the cut because long:

Jem said that certain fandom behaviour is ableist and sexist, which means that Jem understands that fandom behaviour about certain characters can be harmful. She posted about this, called people out as being sexist and ableist and also noted that if Bungie goes with that theory, she will support dogpiling the devs about being sexist and ableist.

Yesterday we discovered whitewashed art and pointed it out, but there's been an incredible amount of backlash saying we're all armchair activists posting for woke points by calling out whitewashing.

What's the difference? Why is Jem acting like her takes are legitimate activism, but other takes are just "hashtage woke"? Why is calling out whitewashing not a legitimate fandom issue to her?

Whitewashing is a legitimate issue in fandom and online spaces in general. It should be pointed out. It should also be noted that it can happen accidentally and that we should give the artist the benefit of the doubt to fix the mistake. Which I've done and I'm still willing to do.

You're absolutely only taking this from Jem's side and her post, which she thought I wouldn't be able to see due to me being blocked, but I can see it. Which is why I can tell that you're coming from her post.

This incident is documented here. As stated, Jem used a derogatory term. Jem was notified about using a derogatory term by another user, she DELETED their warning and made a separate post to apologise for using a derogatory term. I find that pretty hashtag woke (to use Jem's terminology) to appear better in other people's eyes instead of replying directly to the user who pointed a derogatory term out and apologising directly.

Pot calling the kettle black (instead I do actually apologise to people directly, I don't delete their replies to make myself look better). I'm glad she apologised for using the term, that's good no matter what and I respect it. I don't respect framing the apology in this way. I don't respect deleting a comment from the person who pointed the derogatory term out, ignoring that person and making a separate post without crediting someone who called you out.

It doesn't help that the same person is the one who pointed out whitewashing and has been getting transphobic attacks from the very people who are reblogging and supporting Jem's post. Basically, Jem evidently does not want to be called out on her mistakes and does not want to acknowledge them.

I also want to address the following:

Nice gatekeeping language with the "ever since you got here." It seems to me that before I got here, some people in the fandom were never challenged on their posts, or they were and they were promptly dogpiled and blocked. Since the incident I linked above, numerous people came out and said that Jem has been a menace in the Destiny community for a very long time.

I am so eager to find out which blogs I've been digging through looking for dirt and ripping out context. Because the only ones I've ever addressed are people are actively engaging in bigotry in the fandom. Bigotry that makes other people unwilling to engage with the fandom, talk and socialise. Bigotry is making the fandom space unsafe for a large amount of marginalised groups in our community. I will KEEP pointing out bigotry in the fandom. I don't even have to dig, because some people in the fandom keep their dirt on the surface, but if I have to dig to prove that there's bigoted ulterior motives, I will.

I want marginalised groups and minors to feel safe in the community. I want bigots to feel unsafe. Not the other way around. Call it performative all you want.

Already addressed this pile of crap. Jem swung here but ultimately missed by a mile. She gave it a try, but unfortunately she doesn't really understand these things very well, which isn't a surprise considering she picks which battles to take by throwing darts on a board and considering she doesn't care who supports her as long as it's support. Post where I explain mentioning anxiety and original post where I mention it. Please try to read through these on your own and engage critical thinking and then compare it to whatever the hell Jem has going on in this paragraph.

The only liar and truth-twister here is Jem. And according to other people in the community, it's nothing new.

Since people aren't clicking links: I got anon hate telling me to do real life activism instead of posting on my Destiny blog. I explained that this is a tumblr blog about Destiny so you can't tell whether or not I'm doing real life activism based on my tumblr blog. I jokingly added that due to having anxiety, I am capable of caring about multiple issues at once. I did not use it as an excuse in any capacity, but Jem has nothing else to attack me for so she had to scrap the bottom of the barrel to find something.

Please read something other than her horrid takes.

Another tragic miss from Jem, who has worse accuracy than me in Trials. I have so many friends to vent to and I've been venting to them this entire time. They're all sending their regards.

This is like a billionth time that I'm saying that I don't support anon hate and that I do not have physical control over other people's devices and tumblr blogs so I can't stop them from sending anon hate. I said it multiple times: don't send anon hate in my name.

I am not sure how Jem wants me to enforce this. But I also received anon hate and so have other people who participated in this discourse so, pot kettle.

Jem is heavily projecting her own reasons for causing drama and thinks that everyone does it for the same reasons as she does. Weird slip.

Anyway, you can tell Jem that I've seen it and that I say: Bye!

[usermischief]

no place for promises

chapter 37: heated

Warnings: - (heed tags for further information)

You can read it on AO3 as well.

—-

Yes, hi, hey, hello. I'm still working on this. I just wanted to pop in and apologise for the wait. I'm really sorry it took forever. The NPFP writer's block chose to collide with SteoSpooktober and I struggled more than I like to admit. The chapter is a lot shorter as well, but I didn't want to let you wait any longer. Thanks for your support. ❤

—-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Stiles is fed up. He had one of the worst nights in a while, woke up in a questionable mood, received two threats of detention, and was barely able to resist the urge to punch a lacrosse obsessed Jackson. Brett is the last person he wants to see today. Alas, here he is, his silver sports car and stupid grin included. If the guy didn’t leave before Theo arrives from AP Biology, he's going to blow a fuse - and that’s not something Stiles can deal with today. 

Brett gets out of the car. “You look like shit.” 

Although Stiles usually appreciates people who don’t hold back more than those who try to sugarcoat everything, his temper is a volatile beast. Cause for that is most definitely the way his own bedroom made him feel. Despite knowing that a break-in can make a person feel unsafe in their own home, Stiles never thought he’d feel so terribly uncomfortable in his own bedroom after everything else he has gone through. But he did. In fact, he tried to avoid it like the plague. He jumped at shadows, flinched at every noise, and fell into an uneasy sleep with more nightmares than usual. Every single time he’s closed his eyes, he’s seen someone he loves getting hurt. Not always by Donovan. In fact, the nogitsune, or rather, a heartless version of him was the one torturing his friends, Theo, or his dad. Nothing calmed him down. Not even knowing that his dad is okay, not even knowing that a hellhound was sleeping two doors over. 

Stiles runs a hand over his face then drops it with a sigh. “Don’t take this personally, but whenever you appear unannounced, I automatically expect the absolute worst.”

Tossing a small box from his left to his right hand, Brett huffs out a laugh. “Man, that’s what I love to hear from a guy.” His lips quirk into a smirk, and he holds the box out to him.

Stiles squints at Brett, then the box before he eventually checks his surroundings. There’s a reason he mentioned more than once that meeting at the school isn’t the best idea. For starters, the rumors about them finally died down. However, the rivalry between their schools is very much still thriving. Luckily, the parking lot is mostly empty. Students have either already gone home or are waiting for lacrosse practice to start soon. Stiles will never understand why people are interested in watching them practice. 

Sighing, Stiles holds out his hand. “What’s that?”

“Our engagement rings,” Brett smirks at him, not even pretending to be serious about his comment. 

Stiles taps the lid of the box, quirking a brow. “I better find something high-carat in here.” 

“Only the best for my little nemeton boy,” Brett says. When he reaches out a hand as if to ruffle his hair, Stiles swats it away. There are limits to what he will allow Brett to do, and treating him like a child certainly isn’t one of them. Hopefully, this nickname isn’t going to stick around either. It’s not particularly charming. 

Sitting down on the hood of Brett’s car, Stiles flips the box open. To be quite honest, he couldn’t tell what he expected, but he certainly didn’t think Brett would drive here to bring him a wristband, a simple one at that. It’s slim, with a black leathery band and a silver clasp. Drawing his eyebrows together, he raises the box a bit higher. He swallows, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that?” It’s not a normal wristband. He doesn’t know why he knows that, but just looking at it makes him feel queasy. 

“It’s an emergency stop,” Brett says, sitting down on the hood next to him. “At least, it’s supposed to be. The clasp is laced with wolf lichen.” Oh, is that what it is? Is that why he doesn’t like the wristband, why he feels weird just looking at it? “Best case scenario, it activates when you use too much power and snaps you out of it.” Despite looking relatively relaxed, Brett doesn’t sound very confident. “Our emissary worked on it over the past week. It’s basically a test run.” 

Stiles huffs out a breath, snapping the box shut. “I love to be a guinea pig.” 

“How fortunate,” Brett deadpans, leaning back on his elbows. He’s still looking at him, probably expecting Stiles to open the box and put on the wristband. It would be the right thing to do, right? He should try it out. He should. Or shouldn’t he? What’s the right thing to do right now? Because he doesn't want to do it. 

Stiles snaps the box open again and stares at the silver clasp, unable to ignore his stomach twisting. It doesn't help that Brett keeps staring at him. What if this is another test? They tested him twice, but that was before his powers got the best of him. It was before he created a mass hallucination and before he attacked the geneticist with magic he shouldn't possess.

But he passed two of their tests. 

“Okay,” Brett says, taking the box out of his hand, “you’re making me anxious with your”—he gestures briefly with his hand, clearly struggling to find the right word—“everything.” Brett pulls the wristband out of the box with a huff, making a point of touching the silver clasp. Werewolves are affected by wolf lichen as well, but Brett didn’t even react to it. “This isn’t a test or a scam or another attempt at controlling you.” Not for the first time, Stiles wonders if Brett has some kind of mind-reading powers. He’s eerily good at reading people, of picking apart what he knows and assigning it to the chemo-signals he senses. It’s something Stiles can appreciate in a person, but not when it’s used against him. Not that he’s going to mention it to anyone. People might think he has something to hide, when he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t.

Brett gestures for his arm and Stiles offers it, even if reluctantly. “Pretend it’s one of those watches reading your pulse,” he tells him, tone lighter, unusually light. It’s most likely an attempt to calm him down. Stiles genuinely isn’t too sure if it’s working, but he’s not pulling his arm away, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much a part of him begs him to. 

The wristband is cool against his skin. It doesn’t hurt, but he flinches regardless and curls his hand into a tight fist. “I can open it again, right?” Stiles asks, eyes locked on Brett’s unmoving hands. “I can take it off?” 

Brett chuckles. “Unless you want it to catch rust, you probably should take it off while showering.” When Stiles looks at him, he smiles reassuringly. “You don’t have to wear it,” Brett tells him, pulling his hands and with that the wristband away from him. The relief rushing through his body is something Stiles will take with him to the grave. He can't help massaging his wrist, although he's aware that his behaviour is childish. It’s just a wristband. A magic wristband, granted. Maybe even a poisonous one. But still just a wristband. And Brett would never want to hurt him. He’s the nemeton. Hurting or even killing him has devastating consequences. 

“Stiles,” Brett says softly, “do you trust me?” 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles looks at Brett, studies his ever so patient face, and his quirked elbow. He barely knows the guy, and his reasoning for going to Brett for help usually comes back to his knowledge about the supernatural world and everything around it. But does he trust him? He sent Isaac to live with them. He wouldn’t have done it if there hadn’t been some preexisting trust. He wouldn’t have let him walk away with Nolan if he hadn’t believed Brett could be trusted. 

Why is he hesitating now? 

Stiles licks his lips. Brett, he trusts. It's the wristband he's hesitant about. For some reason, it feels like a shackle meant to keep him small even though Brett told him he can take it off, that he should take it off when he's showering. Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing again. “I trust you.” His lips twitch into a small smile. “But I gotta think about this first.”  

Brett nods, and if he considers Stiles’ behavior strange, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he simply places the wristband back in the box and snaps it shut before offering it to him again.   

Part of him doesn’t even want to take it, but Stiles grabs the box regardless. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Brett leans back again, squinting at the overcast sky. “How are things going with your boyfriend?” 

That question comes out of nowhere. “Why are you asking?” 

“Curiosity.” 

Stiles turns the box around. “It’s going well. He’s—” he stops himself and shakes his head. Something about Brett makes it way too easy to tell him everything. Maybe it’s the bond they share, maybe it’s just Brett himself. It probably doesn’t even matter. For some reason, he feels about Brett the same way he does about Lydia. Well, maybe not quite the same as Lydia, but very similar. Why did he doubt Brett about the wristband? Shaking his head, Stiles sighs. “He doesn’t like you very much.” He would’ve told Lydia the whole truth, but telling Brett about Theo’s insecurities feels like backstabbing him. 

Brett pushes off his car and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Smirking, he looks away.

Stiles follows his eyes and sighs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Theo walks towards them, a bit too fast to be casual about it, a bit too fast to pretend he isn’t jealous of Brett being alone with him. “Don’t you have new werewolf to train?” He comes to a stop next to Stiles, tossing his backpack to the ground like he’s getting ready for a fight. This is going fantastic. 

Brett smirks. “I thought I’d come over to woo your boyfriend.” 

“Please, don’t.” Stiles grabs hold of Theo’s jacket, pulling him closer to him before he even has the chance to move. Not that it really matters. If he wants to jump Brett, he will not be stopped by Stiles’ attempt to hold onto him. 

Curling his lips, Theo turns to look at him. “Why is he here?” 

Stiles lets go of his jacket and lifts his arm without another word, showing him the box. 

Theo stares at it with narrowed eyes. It takes him longer than expected before he grabs the box and snaps it open. Stiles doesn’t even complain. In fact, he’s pretty thrilled about not having to hold it any longer. The farther away it is, the better. “He brought you jewelry.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t even give Stiles a second to say anything. Instead, he rounds on Brett. “Why the fuck are you giving my boyfriend jewelry?” That’s a joke, right? The first time Theo calls him his boyfriend, and it’s because he’s fucking jealous. Wow. That’s so not surprising, to be entirely honest. It’s still a dick move. He could’ve at least looked at him while saying it out loud for the first time. After all, it’s kind of a big thing, isn’t it? Going from dating to becoming officially boyfriends? 

Stiles snorts.

Theo glances at him over his shoulder, brows drawn together. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did.” Brett tries his best not to laugh, but the twitch of his lips is unmistakable. “I drove all the way across town to bring him a wristband and confess my undying love for him.” 

It doesn’t even take a second for Theo’s anger to go through the roof, which is not surprising at all. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Don’t provoke him.” 

“He needs to learn how to take a joke,” Brett says, looking past Theo directly at Stiles. While he’s technically not wrong, he should know better. There hasn’t been a single interaction between them that didn’t end in at least one of them being a total prick. At this point, it’s most likely not going to change. Unless someday, Theo starts believing that Stiles isn’t planning on leaving him for anybody.

Theo’s shoulders are a rigid line. Stiles doesn’t like the fact that Theo’s ready to jump Brett. He’s going to get his ass handed to him all over again, and while Stiles will be a good boyfriend and mend his wounds and ego. Still, he’s going to very much point out that it’s his own fault and that he’s an idiot for attacking Brett in the first place when he knows that he can’t win. Does that make him a bad boyfriend? He probably should be more supportive. Theo is strong, but Brett has an unfair advantage. There, that sounds better. 

A little bit. 

Stiles chuckles and tugs on the back of Theo’s jacket. “Come on, Misiu, you know he’s just joking with you.” 

Theo bristles. “It’s not fucking funny.” 

“It’s a little funny.” 

Brett snorts, but Theo turns around again, now more confused than angry. “Since when do you think this is funny?” 

With a shrug, Stiles gets to his feet. “Maybe I’ve just resigned myself to the fate of you two behaving like cavemen every single time you meet.”

Theo doesn’t look convinced. 

“Civilized cavemen, if you please,” Brett retorts, and, to his credit, he almost manages to look indignant. If he cared a bit more about what other people think about him, he might actually pull it off one day.  

Stiles scrutinizes Brett. “The jury is still out on that.”

“You really know what a guy wants to hear.” Smirking, Brett pats the back of Theo’s head. Unsurprisingly, Theo turns around with a snarl, swatting Brett’s hand away like an infuriating fly that doesn’t want to get the hint. 

“Misiu,” Stiles says, curling his fingers around Theo’s chin and moves his head until he looks at him again. “This”—he nods in the general direction of the box still in Theo’s hand—“ is just supposed to help keep another mass hallucination from happening.” He pauses, tapping a finger against Theo’s jaw. “Allegedly.” 

Brett scoffs. “Most likely.” 

Stiles shoots him a look, unable to suppress the spark of irritation. “In theory,” he says, a bit more insistent than strictly necessary. If they don’t actually know it works, chances are Theo won’t be pushing him to wear it, and that’s his main goal, really. “So, nothing romantic going on. You can keep your claws in check, Romeo.” 

Again, Theo studies him with that little frown of his, but Stiles kisses him briefly before he can say something. It doesn’t have the wanted effect. Theo looks even more suspicious now, lips curled into a tight, almost disapproving line. 

“Okay,” Brett says, patting Stiles’ shoulder, “I’ll head out. This is something I really don’t wanna deal with.” With a small shake of his head, he gestures in their general direction and pulls his keys out. “See you tomorrow.” 

Stiles nods. “See you.” 

“Unfortunately,” Theo adds quietly, pushing the box in the pocket of his jacket.

If Brett heard him, he doesn’t deem it worthy of a reaction, and it’s probably better that way. As amusing as their bickering can be, Stiles won’t be particularly thrilled about an actual fight between them. Not after seeing how it ended last time. 

Stiles wraps his arms around Theo’s shoulders. “So, you gonna keep being a jealous jerk whenever he’s around?” 

“We’re going with alliterations now?” 

Humming quietly, Stiles leans forward and kisses Theo again. He smiles when he feels his boyfriend chuckle and pushes closer when one of Theo's hands finds the small of his back. Warmth spreads through his body. He can’t get enough of this, of them, of Theo, and the way he feels against him, the way his mouth fits perfectly against his. It almost feels as if Theo is ruining him for every other person on this planet. He doubts anybody will ever feel this right again. 

Theo’s lips part for Stiles’ tongue, and he can feel his fingers twitch against his lower back before Theo moves his hand, slipping it into the back pocket of Stiles’ pants. Another wave of heat courses through his veins. It’s easy to forget that they’re standing by the school’s parking lot where people can see them. Not that it matters. It’s not like they’re doing anything too bad. 

But they could. 

Maybe they should. 

Stiles presses their hips together, grinning as Theo makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. It’s strange to know how easily Theo turns to pudding in his hands, to know how into him he really is. Mostly because Theo is so composed most of the time. He doesn’t want people to see what he thinks and feels, but whenever it comes to Stiles, Theo loses his mask. Whether it’s because of jealousy, worry, or want. It’s Stiles who makes him crack. It’s Stiles who’s allowed to see everything, to feel everything. 

After a moment, Theo pulls away. “You gotta go to practice, or Jackson’s going to lose it.”

“Jackson just wants me to flirt with Brett as a distraction, he doesn’t want me to—”

“He wants you to what?” Theo asks, his tone and expression dark.

Huh. Right, Theo didn’t know about that little bit of information. Not that it matters. Not that Stiles would actually flirt with Brett, and he really doubts Brett would be distracted by him. That’s not the kind of relationship they have. They’re comfortable around each other, but that’s that. It’s not like Stiles can’t see where Theo is coming from. Brett is good looking, he’s a flirt, and his reputation precedes him. On top of that, he just so happened to be interested in Stiles before he figured out that Stiles is into Theo. But, that’s the end of that story. That’s all there is to it, and Stiles isn’t going to go out of his way to make things worse just because Jackson wants to win a stupid lacrosse game for charity.

Theo pulls away, his jaw tight. That’s the opposite of what Stiles wants right now, but it’s not hard to figure out why he does it or what he’s planning; finding Jackson to punch him in the face or worse. Worse is entirely possible as well. Violence is still the option Theo chooses at the slightest inconvenience. It has become a more severe problem because  Stiles isn’t as strict as Scott is about only reacting passively. He’s trying to find a balance, he really is. Still, sometimes even he wants to just let it all out. 

Right now, however, Stiles wants to keep Theo to himself a little while longer. “It’s hot when you’re so possessive.” 

Theo blinks, shaking his head twice as if he needs a second to take in this new information. “You used to get pissed off when I got jealous.”

“Like I said, I’ve resigned myself to my fate.” Stiles raises his brows, grinning. 

Theo raises a brow. “You’re in a special kind of mood today,” he says, and he sounds almost exhausted. After a brief pause, almost as if he’s trying to sort through his thoughts, Theo reaches out for him and pulls him close, fingers tightly curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right?” 

Stiles sighs dramatically. “Shouldn’t you be more excited about me not yelling at you every time you have a jealous fit?” 

“Of course, I’m glad. I don’t wanna fight with you.” Theo places his hands on his waist, and he smiles, but he still looks a little hesitant. “I’m just … I don’t know.” His fingers slip underneath his hoodie. The skin contact sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. The school’s parking lot is the last place he wants to be this very second. He’d much rather be somewhere else. Somewhere alone with Theo. 

His truck, for example, where they wouldn’t be so out in the open at the very least. Stiles grabs Theo’s backpack and pulls him along. “Stop being such a worrywart all the time,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. Although Theo seems to be a bit confused still, he shakes his head with a chuckle. 

“I’m worried about you,” Theo tells him when they’re close to his truck. “I’ll always be worried about you.” Without any warning, he grabs Stiles around the waist and spins him around, pushing him up against the side of his truck. “So, when you’re acting weird, I’ll point it out.” Weird. Weird might be a bit far-fetched. He’s not acting weird, just a bit less annoyed by Theo’s antics. 

After dropping the backpack, Stiles wraps his arms around Theo’s shoulders and neck, pressing as close as physically possible. He brushes their lips together, grins when he notices Theo’s fingers twitch and tighten on instinct. The closer Stiles presses, the stronger Theo’s hold gets on him. It’s an interesting observation, and most definitely something to keep in mind. “I can go back to yelling at you if you want?” He presses a kiss to the corner of Theo’s mouth. Excitement zaps through his body as Theo parts his lips. Stiles swallows, trying to resist the urge to bite down on Theo's bottom lip, to hear that sound again. The quiet moan in the back of his throat that made Stiles weak in the knees. “Or we could enjoy our time until Jackson finds us and drags me off to practice." Say yes, please, say yes. Right now, Stiles would even agree to skip practice completely. 

Fuck lacrosse, and fuck Jackson. He can deal with him tomorrow.

Theo turns his head enough to press their mouths together, fingers tightening further. “I like the sound of that,” he whispers before kissing him again, a bit harder this time. Almost a little desperate. Stiles can taste it on his tongue. The want. The desire. The knowledge that he’s so close, and yet not totally satisfied. Briefly, Stiles wonders if Theo would make the first move, but finds his answer only moments later when his boyfriend’s grip around his waist loosens significantly. No. Theo wouldn’t make the first move. Theo wouldn’t push him, not after what Stiles told him two nights ago. He’s too smart for that. He’s finally learned that patience is key. 

Stiles isn’t big on patience today. Not even a little bit. They don’t have forever. He gives Jackson half an hour tops before he’ll come looking for him. If that. Maybe he should start carrying around mountain ash. That way, he could ensure a bit of privacy. Unless he can convince Theo to drive them somewhere so he doesn’t have to deal with lacrosse or Jackson’s revenge and can get rid of that stupid wristband Brett brought him. He doesn’t like that Theo kept it. Part of him hoped he’d throw it back at Brett. 

But that doesn’t matter now. 

Well, it does matter. It’s just that there’s something more urgent on his agenda. 

Stiles shifts a bit, lets his legs fall open for Theo to push even closer. It doesn’t take more than a second until he does, easily slipping between his legs, occupying the empty space until there’s almost nothing left between them. It’s still not close enough. Stiles wants more. Something. Anything. He cannot tell what it is exactly, but he knows that Theo can give it to him — and that Stiles doesn’t want to wait for it any longer.

Curling the fingers of his left hand into Theo’s short strands, Stiles slips his other hand between them. He brushes a finger along the warm skin above Theo’s jeans, enjoys the feeling of Theo shuddering, of the muscles contracting underneath his touch. Although Stiles is aware of how bad Theo wants him, he never really expected he would fall apart under the slightest of touches. Stiles drags his thumb along the waistband of Theo’s jeans, chuckling as the grip around his waist tightens again, as Theo presses him harder against the side of his truck. 

But only for a second. Theo breaks the kiss and stares at him, pupils blown wide. Stiles hates that Tracy was allowed to see him like this. It never quite hit him this hard that she's been so much closer to Theo than he has been. 

Physically, at least. 

“Slow down,” Theo says, his voice rough, and he clears his throat, looking up at Stiles with a raised brow. “Are you sure about this?” It’s kind of a stupid question. Theo should know better than anybody else that Stiles isn’t going to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s stubborn like that. They both are. Now, however, Stiles is just impatient. It’s sweet of Theo to make sure, it really is. Especially after his confession from two nights ago. 

Still, it’s a little too much. “Very sure,” Stiles says against his lips and kisses him again. He can feel Theo’s lips shift into a smile, can feel it pressing against his mouth. It’s making him weak in the knees before Theo’s tongue brushes over his bottom lip. They should probably get in the truck at some point. They so should get into the truck. Theo’s grip around his waist doesn’t ease up, and Stiles parts his lips for Theo’s tongue. Now his fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the short strands. The thought of yanking his head back crosses his mind, of pulling his hair and exposing his throat, maybe biting down until the point of pain. The impulse vanishes as fast as it comes, yet it leaves a lasting impression. Stiles lets go of Theo’s hair and focuses on Theo’s belt buckle instead.

The moment he’s opened it, Stiles senses a shift in the atmosphere, almost like the smell of rain before it even starts. His stomach contorts, his body knowing that something is up before Theo actually pulls away completely and takes every bit of warmth with him. “Wait, fuck, Babe—” Trailing off, Theo shakes his head as if trying to sort out his thoughts. His pupils are blown, lips swollen. He’s breathing just as heavily as Stiles is. “This doesn’t feel right.” 

Stiles pushes off the car, shaking his head. “Misiu,” he whispers, “what do you mean?” It’s entirely possible that Theo pulled away because they’re standing in the parking lot, and they’re still kind of in plain view of anybody who walks by. However, there’s a truck with tinted windows right behind them, and Stiles really doubts Theo is too chicken shit to take a risk, especially not with his supernatural hearing. They both clearly want this. Stiles doesn’t understand the problem. “You want … this, right?” 

Although Theo doesn’t take a step back, he fumbles with his belt, and the quiet sound of metal against metal sounds strangely final. It’s only undermined in the way he narrows his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. Whatever was about to happen isn’t going to happen anytime soon. “Doesn’t this remind you of something?”

Drawing his eyebrows together, Stiles stares at Theo. He doesn’t understand where he is coming from at all. This is an entirely new situation. He’s never made out with anybody in front of their truck in the middle of the school’s parking lot, and he’s pretty sure he’s never made up a story like this. “I don’t follow.”

Theo rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. “You’re sleep-deprived, and—”

“Oh, Misiu, come on,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. First, he’s worried about his general health, and now he’s worried Stiles isn’t in the right frame of mind to give consent? It’s getting ridiculous. “This is nothing like what happened with Malia.” He stops, studying Theo’s bright blue eyes for a moment, the mouth set in a firm line, the way he has his arms folded over his chest. “Just say if you’re not into it.” They talked about being honest after all, and this, for sure, is one of those moments where they should be very honest with each other. 

“Babe, come on, you know how badly I always want you.” Theo cocks his head to the side a bit, but he doesn’t smile or smirk, and the small frown doesn’t ease up. “I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re acting weird today.” 

“Weird?” Stiles echoes in a low voice. His heartbeat picks up again. This time for an entirely different reason. “Wanting you is me acting weird?” Really? Fucking really? Stiles swallows his anger down, but it’s resilient. What’s so weird exactly? It’s not like they never made out before, or that they haven’t gone farther than this. Did Stiles stop? Yes, but he is allowed to change his mind. It’s not even unusual for someone to change their mind. He trusts Theo. He wants him. 

What the fuck is Theo’s problem?

“No,” Theo says, dropping his arms with a sigh. “No, of course not. It’s just … I don’t know.” That’s not an incredibly helpful statement. Not at all. What is he supposed to make of this? Theo wants him, but he pulls back because he thinks Stiles doesn’t really want to? And then he isn’t even sure of this statement. 

Stiles licks his lips, reaching out for Theo. He curls his fingers into the jacket and pulls him close again. Stiles wants to smooth out the lines between his brows. He hates that Theo frowns. He hates that Theo’s fucked Tracy and is now hesitating for some stupid fucking reason. “How often do I have to tell you that I want you?” 

Theo swallows and parts his lips, studying his face as if he could look right through him. “At least one more time.” 

It’s almost impossible to keep the smirk from his lips. Stiles can feel the tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s nothing he wants Theo to see, so he leans down and kisses him again, cupping his neck as he does. He kisses him until the urge to smirk has left him, and he can look Theo in the eye. “I want you, and I want this, and I—” he cuts off when Theo’s frown deepens. “What?” He can’t keep the sharpness out of his tone. Seriously? Seriously? 

“If you’re still sure tomorrow,” Theo says, and he sounds sincere even though he’s clearly not happy about his decision, “I’ll make it worth your while.” But why wait? 

“I wasn’t ... you know,” Stiles whispers.

Theo, however, remains stubborn. “I’m not going to hook up with you in public when you’re—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Stiles interrupts Theo, pushing him away in the process. This is bullshit. "Stop acting like you know what I want better than I do." 

“I’m not saying that.” Theo narrows his eyes. He still isn’t angry. Stiles would know if he were. He’d feel it. It’s worry gnawing at Theo. Worry and confusion. Why is he so worried? Stiles doesn’t understand where this is coming from. Yes, he didn’t sleep well the past two nights. Yes, he had nightmares. Yes, he’s a bit off today. But it’s nothing newsworthy. It’s nothing Theo has to be worried about. This will happen again because it happened before. 

“You don't need to say it.” 

Theo cups his cheek. Concern dances in his bright blue eyes. “Babe, I really don’t think you’re okay.” 

Frustration claws at Stiles’ throat and he wants to yell at Theo; he wants to make him understand. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s just tired. He’s also hungry, but he’s been hungry since yesterday. He’s still not feeling bad, not bad enough for Theo to be worried like this. Stiles pushes his hand away and shakes his head. “We’re fine.” His words hang in the air, heavy and brutal, a lie so blunt part of him feels terrible for throwing it in Theo’s face. But Theo is pushing him away. Not the other way around. He’s right here. He wants him. He craves him, but it’s Theo who keeps stopping him. 

Why?

“I — Stiles?” Theo shakes his head again, confusion lining his features. “What?”

“I said I’m fine.” 

“No, you said—”

“Listen,” Stiles interrupts him, pulling away completely this time. “I’m fine. You’re fine. It’s whatever. I have lacrosse practice anyway. And we don’t want to disappoint Jackson, do we?” He couldn’t care less about the charity game or Jackson’s little vendetta, but he doesn’t want to talk about this any longer either. They’re going in circles anyway. If Theo doesn’t want to believe him, that’s his choice, but he doesn’t have to look so confused about Stiles’ decision to leave. After all, he pulled away first. 

Theo reaches for his hand again, and this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away. “Do you want me to come over later?” he asks, taking him by surprise. “I really think you need some sleep.” 

As much as Stiles can influence Theo’s mood, Theo influences his. His anger burns out, and Stiles squeezes his hand, smiling a little. “I’d like that.” Perhaps lacrosse practice will help him get tired enough that he’ll be able to sleep, and maybe Theo being there will help him to actually stay asleep. Perhaps him being there will even help keep the nightmares away. Stiles is much less anxious about going home now than he’s been the whole day. 

But first, he has to survive Jackson. Since it’s the last practice before the charity game, Stiles is pretty sure today is going to be hell. 

[yanderecandystore]

Can we get more of the teachers with their lab escapee S/O????

Well, sure! I think it's a really different headcanon, it reminds me of asmrs where the Listener can hear their thoughts. I wish I could implement more of this, but not necessarily that the darling is actually hearing the yanderes thoughts, but that the reader (you) can see what they're thinking.

TW/Tags: continuation to a previous hc about mind reading darling who is a monster with more human traits than monster ones (so there is spoilers in this post, go read the first one if this storyline interests you) // homesickness of a home you have never been in // how about we have two "endings" in this one? I'm feeling dangerous >:3 // also a lot of meta language and fourth wall breaking that just came to me?? Like- out of nowhere.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Raining [Yandere! Teacher OCS x Mind Reading!Reader - Headcanon]:

Because of course it's raining. Especially now that you're here, in a random cold and wet alley, trying to block the noises from the thoughts that come from the citizens.

It's been four days since you were here, eating scraps you found along the way. You didn't manage to do much as their voices and thoughts were overbearing. The fact that you may be considering going back to their homes, going back into their death trap was starting to sound so much more appealing than staying here all alone, suffering and starving.

You don't want to go back, you know they could probably hurt you. And you don't want to deal with the Bright Vision Corp anymore, you have heard rumours of humans being quite unfair in these types of facilities, you're afraid you may have a gruesome punishment awaiting for your return.

All that you wanted to do was to find your family, your kind, your home! Your true home. You feel like a piece of you is missing yet you don't know why, why would you be missing something you never had?

Why would you miss the affection and comfort that you have never had? That you have never experienced?

Why do you feel so alone when you have been all by yourself all your life? There are so many questions and no answers, and it seems like your whole life is just based on this.

Questions, confusions, no answers, no resolutions.

Your head hurts from the lack of food and proper water that you have consumed these days. Maybe you should go to sleep in hopes of restoring some energy.

I'll let you choose your path now, but it's not exactly the end from here, it's just a point where the story creates two different routes. If you're wondering why, it's because I don't know what to do with this plot line lol. So I tried creating something that may or may not be cool (I just hope it's fine with you).

→ A: You finally find a clue:

Now, in this convenient dark place, the idea that you in your worst moment is going to find a beacon of hope in a pile of garbage is just as absurd and cliche as it sounds. Yet, would you really be surprised I mean, I'm personally a cliche story teller (I have to admit that), and also-

How else would you expect to find clues about other possible monsters like yourself, if not in a place like this? Where no unwanted eyes are going to find it, where only those that need to see it, will see it!

I think you're a smart person dearest, being an experiment inside a secretive facility does help you learn some form of "street smarts". Or in this case, secret passwords/codes?? My point is that you have learned at least some forms of secret codes and how to read secret messages.

Maybe you're imagining stuff, maybe you shouldn't be reading stuff that is written on abandoned alley's walls and interpreting them as some sort of hint to find your kind, even more absurdly, to find your family.

But hey, it's a desperate time- Whatever clue of a place you need to go it's already enough for you.

Who knows? Maybe luck is at your side this time around.

→ B: You go back to them:

While looking around the place you can see many types of written phrases across the walls, which you ignore thinking it was some sort of art. You heard people like to do it just for fun, so why even bother looking at them?

You just feel really, really cold and hungry. You don't have time to look at nonsense.

You wonder if the sounds are becoming more silent because of the lack of humans walking around, or because your mind is starting to go blank once again. It's both comforting and frightening, is this the end? Are you going to die?

You fall unconscious once again, but this time worrying if you'll ever wake up again.

While you're curling yourself into a ball to protect yourself from the rain, unaware of your surroundings, a familiar figure comes in.

Worried that you may be sick and lost, they take you away. Yet of course, you didn't really know what was happening, as you were too tired to move yourself and make an effort to see who it was, or to even stop them.

And like that, you're back into their arms.

🍎 Madeline Allen part:

You would probably wake up with the smell of food, it smells so tasty. You guess your unconscious self wanted to alert you of the sweet scent of a glamorous heavy meal. You don't think you ever got the chance to experience such a thing, just smelling cooked food was already way better than the scraps you ate in the alley or the food given to you by the Bright Vision Corp. Of course, everything that is good ends abruptly.

You tried to stand up as soon as you realized where you were, but of course, you couldn't, because that would be too easy. You were trapped into the couch, by…. Blankets? It isn't too tight so it doesn't hurt you, but the knots are really strong.

You look everywhere to try and find the one person that has done this to you, only to find yourself alone in the living room. You can hear something, someone in the kitchen. I guess she still hadn't finished cooking, she didn't know when you would wake up, so she tried to be patient and not wake you up herself.

You try to break free but to no avail, Madeline comes in surprised that you're finally awake. But something seems very, very different about this encounter.

"- Oh dearest, are you okay? I hope I didn't tie you up too tightly." Her expression shows you that she is waiting for a response. But you can't hear her second voice, you can't hear what she is thinking so you keep your mouth shut.

Which was really disheartening to her, she hopes you aren't mad, maybe you're cold or hungry right?

"- I'm making dinner for us. And after that you can take a bath and we can sleep to calm down and- In the morning we can talk about all of this. How does that sound?" She says, coming forward. You frantically shake like an animal trying to escape, trying to scare her until she lets you go.

"- And if you would prefer, you can sleep wherever you want! My bedroom is upstairs, and you can sleep on the couch if you want, it is a folding bed." She is trying her best to make this situation comforting to you. It would be a shame if you ran away again.

"- I don't care where I sleep, I don't want to stay here with you!" You scream as loudly as you can. I mean, hey, maybe someone is going to help you?

She is still coming towards you, her face is emotionless and you can't help but feel extremely unsafe around someone you can't read their thoughts. I mean, you still can read it, but you can't tell what she is thinking about and that is absolutely terrifying to you.

This is probably the first time you actually felt nervous around her. Her penetrating gaze mixed with affection and maybe, anger??

"- Oh dear, that's a shame-" she leans down towards you and pinches your cheek with her right hand while the left is making a "no, no" notion "- Cause I don't think you have a choice this time."

🍎 Matthew Robinson part:

You would probably wake up with the smell of food, it smells so tasty. You guess your unconscious self wanted to alert you of the sweet scent of a glamorous heavy meal. You don't think you ever got the chance to experience such a thing, just smelling cooked food was already way better than the scraps you ate in the alley or the food given to you by the Bright Vision Corp. Of course, everything that is good ends abruptly.

You tried to stand up as soon as you realized where you were, but of course, you couldn't, because that would be too easy. You were trapped into the couch, by…. Blankets? It isn't too tight so it doesn't hurt you, but the knots are really strong.

You try to look around, although the whole ambience is pretty dark as almost all the lights are out and it's night time outside. You thought you were lucky to be all alone, until you saw the figure sitting next to a dim lamp, reading a book.

He was tired, you could see that in his expression. He was tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited you to wake up. He thought that food may have turned cold if you didn't wake up earlier, yet his mind prevented him from waking you up.

You can't see well, but you noticed that he wasn't wearing glasses while reading the book. He was only trying to distract his mind but he was obviously disturbed by the circumstances of these past few days.

"- Hello." He says. Tired as usual. You of course, don't answer.

"- I have made us dinner-" He continues "- And after it, I can prepare a bath for you, I think you would appreciate it after staying out in the rain." He says in his monotonous voice, as his second inner voice seems awfully quiet. You can't hear his thoughts for some odd reason.

This is probably the first time you ever felt so frightened by not being able to hear thoughts.

You tried to hold your anger, but you couldn't help but spill out venom as you turn your head towards him- "- As if I would eat anything coming from you."

You would soon start to regret those words as you see him sigh and get up from his seat. Not showing anything through his thoughts or expressions, although his tone does seem to be one of affection and- disappointment, by your current sassy attitude towards him.

"- You haven't eaten proper food in this couple of days, and when I found you, you were freezing from the cold rain-" Leaning down towards your trapped form, sounding absolutely done with this whole situation.

"- I don't think you are in position to deny my help."

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - part 11

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom @edonaspanca​

11

We went back into the clubhouse shortly after – having spent a while holding each other; and calming ourselves down. Clay saw the scratch on Jax’s face; and looked at me, before turning to my old man. “We good here?”, he grumbled. Jax sneered at him. “What do you think?”, he said. “Let’s just finish this”.

They disappeared into the meeting room; joined by the rest of their brothers. The door was closed behind them; and the drapes blocked my view of the room. I let out a deep breath; and went to gather my thoughts in a corner. Guns. Heroin. Prison. Death… Gemma came over to hand me Abel. “Cat…”, she began. “Not now, Gem’”, I said quietly. She nodded, and walked away. The broken-nosed porn-star came over and handed me a mug of coffee. I drank it in silence.

Church was short. The door opened; and the guys came out of the room; somber expressions on their faces. Jax sent me a knowing look. The vote passed. I didn’t know how to react. I repeated be strong, in my mind – like a mantra – but I couldn’t help but feel like I would begin screaming at any point.

I handed Abel to Lyla; and walked outside. Sitting down by a picnic-table; I put my head between my knees; breathing deeply. My heart was pounding so hard; I didn’t notice Clay sitting down next to me. “Gemma said you did good in there”, he muttered. “You’ll be a great queen someday”. “Not for a while; I’m sure”, I said; trying to keep my voice calm. Clay sighed. “Jax fill you in?”. I nodded. “We need this”, he said. I scoffed. “You care what I think?”, I said. “You already took the vote”. He shrugged. “Jax does”, he said. “You are the tipping point of most of his decisions these days… I want to make sure we’re on the same page”.

His cold voice sent chills down my back; but I couldn’t bend over and take it from this man. “You don’t know me, Clay. Not really. And I don’t know you”. I clenched my jaw in suppressed anger. “But what I’ve seen so far… You – your decisions – they scare the shit out of me. I’m worried about Jax; and I’m worried about our boy”. “You have nothing to worry about”, he said; trying for earnest.

I turned and looked hard into his eyes. “You’re the president of this club… and I’m sure you could snap me like a twig if you wanted to”, I said. “But if you hurt Jackson – or Abel – in any way… I’ll kill you myself”. He nodded. “Fair enough”.

Jax and Tig joined us; and Jax frowned at Clay, before looking at me. “Everything all right here?”, he said. “Your old lady just threatened my life”, Clay smiled. “I’m liking her better and better every minute”. “Time to go”, Tig said. Clay nodded; and he and Tig went to their bikes.

Jax got up close to me; and lifted my chin with his index finger. “Together…”, he whispered. “Together”, I nodded. He kissed my lips softly; and went to join the others.

“Tig!”, I called after the black-haired biker. “When you come back… there’s a chick with a broken nose in there. I promised her your dick for the night”. Tig grinned. “My penis is at your disposal, my lady!”.

They drove out of the lot; and I closed my eyes – letting out a deep sigh.

---

The next few hours passed in a haze. I was constantly checking my phone for any word from Jax – fighting the urge to take Abel; and run away.

Gemma hovered over me; having crow-eaters and porn-stars – some of them one and the same – bringing me food and trying to cheer me up. I politely turned them away; not able to eat or drink before I saw Jax again.

Opie joined me at my table; lighting a cigarette for me. “I haven’t told Lyla”, he muttered. “Can I ask you to do the same?”. I chewed my lip. “Why?”, I asked. “She’s not as strong as you”, he said. “I have to… protect her. She has a past with coke”. I nodded. “It’s not my place, Opie. But you need to figure out, if you want to start a marriage on a lie”. Opie frowned. “Yeah… I know”.

We sat in silence for a bit. “You hear from the hospital? Phil?”, I asked. “He’s conscious. The fat took most of the blow”, Opie chuckled. “We owe him a patch…”. “You do”, I agreed. “Ope…?”. “Yeah?”. “Chibs talked about retaliation… What did you do, to get you into this?”.

Opie looked around for people listening. He swallowed. “We’ve been laying it pretty hard on The Nords”, he muttered. “Trying to keep drugs out of Charming… That body that was dumped at Cara Cara; it wasn’t our kill – but whoever left it; wanted to make it seem that way”. I frowned. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”. Opie shook his head. “Let’s just say, there is more than one reason for Jax to dislike this deal with those alt-right guys”, he said. “And I agree”.

At nightfall, there was a rumbling of bikes outside; and soon after Tig, Clay and Jackson where walking through the doors. Jax came in last; and made a beeline for me – pulling me into his arms. “It’s over, Cat”, he whispered into my ear. “It’s done. We can go home”. I exhaled; not truly in relief – more like exhaustion. “Is it, though?”, I muttered. Jax shook his head slightly. “I hate this shit… hate what we’re doing”, he said. “But we’re safe. For now”. I kissed his lips. “Let’s try to stay that way”.

Clay stepped into the middle of the room. “Everybody! We’ve dealt with the situation. Lockdown is over. You’re all free to go home”. There was a mumble of relief among the people in the room. “If you feel unsafe at any point; if you hear word of something off – you let us know. For now… go home. Especially if you have kids. This place is going to be an adults only party in a few minutes”. He grinned; and croweaters and porn-stars alike, began throwing their arms around the necks of bikers everywhere. I noticed Tig dragging miss broken-nose into a corner; and attacking her with deep kisses and sweet words.

Mothers began gathering up their children; and I waved goodbye at Rina – who was still carrying the skateboard around. “Unicorns forever!”, she called out to me; and I grinned; pumping my fist into the air.

I began gathering up my belongings; and walked to the dorm to grab the diaper bag. Jax followed me. “Gemma says she can take the kid; if you want to stay”. I shook my head. “Don’t really feel like celebrating… I need to go home’”, I said quietly. “To clear my head… You can stay”. He took my hand; and pulled me against his chest. “I go where you go. I need to be with you right now”. He looked sad.

I stroked his cheek. “Talk to me”. He frowned. “I feel like shit, Cat”, he said quietly. “I hate what I just agreed to do”. His hands gathered around my back, as if praying. ”We’re not… this. Samcro does some bad shit; but drugs…”. He grimaced. “It makes me sick”. “You can’t end it?”, I asked. He shook his head. “We’re in too deep at this point”, he said. “I gotta pull us out smart”. “You will”, I said; and kissed the corner of his lips.

---

We got our stuff, and headed out to get Abel; and bring him home. The clubhouse had turned from kindergarten to strip club within seconds of the kids leaving. Opie and Lyla had slipped off as well; and Jax gave his mother a kiss goodbye. I smiled at Gemma; and she winked at me. Jax picked up Abel; and we headed outside; leaving behind the music and cheers from the partying crowd.

Outside; Chibs and Bobby were sharing a joint; and muttering silently amongst each other. “We’re going home”, Jax said. “You all right after that, Jackie?”, Chibs said. “It is what it is”, Jax muttered; and hugged his brother – letting the scot stroke Abels cheek. “We’ll talk later”. “This isn’t good, VP”, Bobby said. Jax sighed. “You know how I feel, Bobby”, he said. “Let’s just get through this”.

A dark escalade drove in to the lot – Stahl getting out of the passenger seat to greet us. “Mr. Teller!”, she smiled. “I came in to get my car checked out yesterday. Was told you were shut down”. “Come back tomorrow”, Jackson said tiredly. Stahl grinned. “Well, seeing as I’m already here; I might as well take care of some business”.

The bubble of rage and frustration in my chest burst; and I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Get your skinny ass back in that car; and drive away. Now!”, I demanded. Stahl looked at me with surprise. “Well, that was rude, Catherine!”, she said. “I’m just having a conversation with your old man”. “Bullshit. You’re trying to cause trouble; because you want to push him into doing something, you can bring him in on… What is your obsession with Jackson?”, I said. “Are you jealous? You want him?”. She scoffed; and looked towards Jax. “Please…”. I smirked. “Maybe it’s me you want. Is that it?”. I bit my lip. “Sweetheart, believe me; I swing every which way – but I do prefer my ladies with a little less Botox”. I heard Jax stifle a laugh behind me. “Let’s go, babe”, he said; and began moving towards my car.

Stahl’s smile disappeared. “No, kitty-girl is coming with us”, she said. “We’re bringing her in for questioning regarding the murder of Joshua Kohn”. Jax’s face dropped; and I froze in place. “You’re what?”, he croaked. “You’re arresting her?”. Stahl shook her head. “No, not yet… we’re still unclear on which one of you, to charge”.

I tried to collect myself. “I’m not talking to you without my lawyer”, I snarled. Chibs was on his phone behind me; trying to get a hold of Lowen. “Well, we’ll make sure you’re safe and sound until she arrives. Come along”. A suited agent stepped out of the car; and walked over to me; grabbing my arm. Jax tried to step between us – Abel beginning to whimper in his arms. “Don’t touch her. You can’t do this!”. “Oh, but I can”, Stahl smiled.

“Lowen is in San Fran’”, Chibs said. “Can’t be here until tomorrow afternoon”. Bobby took Jax’s place between me and the agent; letting Jax cuddle a crying Abel. “Step away from her; before someone gets hurt”, Chibs said. “Assaulting a federal agent is illegal as well; Scottie”, Stahl said. “I don’t think doctors give notes for that”.

I collected myself. “I’ll come down to the police station tomorrow. With my lawyer”. Stahl shook her head. “No can do, honey”, she said. “You might make a run for it”. I ripped my arm from the agents grasp; and stepped over to Jax – taking Abel from his arms. “I don’t think you understand the meaning of family, agent Stahl”, I said calmly.

I walked away from her; and went to my car; strapping in my stepson in his car seat. Jax sent me a knowing look; and walked to his bike. “I’ll have someone watching the house tonight”, Stahl called after me. “Make sure you’re safe until our meeting tomorrow… there are criminals around, you know”.

Jax turned to face her again. “I’d ask you to blow me; but I’m like my old lady”, he smiled sarcastically. “The Botox hasn’t done you any favors, sweetheart”. He got on his bike; and followed my car out of the lot.

---

“Are they still out there?”, I asked Jax – after having tucked Abel in, in his nursery about an hour later. Jackson was by the kitchen window; looking outside. “Two cars… down the road”. He gestured towards a pair of expensive looking suburbans parked a little way off. I sighed frustratedly. Jax stroked my cheek. “You’re ok, baby”, he said. “They can’t touch you without Lowen present. You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight”.

“My own bed”, I smiled. “Still sounds weird”. “Weird good, or bad?”, Jax asked. I bit my lip. “As long as I’m sharing it with you; it’s very good”.

Jax grinned; and leaned in to mold his lips to mine. His hand traveled down my side; and he tugged at the hem of my tank-top. I opened my lips; letting his tongue find mine for a second; before I pulled back. “They’re watching…”, I whispered; and looked out the corner of my eye towards the cars outside. Jax smirked. “Let’s give them a show”, he whispered; and grabbed my bottom; lifting me up to sit on the kitchen counter; with my back to the window.

Blood rushed to my core; and I gasped. Jax pressed his growing erection towards my warmth; and I realized it had been days since I’d had him inside me. “Jax…”, I rasped; and jumped a little; when his lips traveled to the secret spot on my neck. He ran his teeth over it gently; and I heard him chuckle at my responsiveness to his touch. “I’m here, darlin’”, he breathed. His lips moved down to my left breast; nibbling gently at the fabric of my top; tweaking my nipple through it and my bra. “And I’m here too…”. I gasped hard; when he unbuttoned my jeans; sliding two fingers down the waistline of my panties; tugging at my pubic hair. “And here”, he whispered; and pulled me of the counter. He pulled down my jeans and panties; leaving them hanging around my ankles, so I couldn’t walk.

He set me back up on the countertop; and slid his fingers between my warm, wet folds. I was shaking from excitement and lust; and I grabbed on to Jax’s neck – pulling him in for a heated kiss. My lower body was hidden from the agents outside, by the low hanging curtain in front of the window; exposing my nakedness only to Jax. All they could see, was my back; and how it arched against his touch. Even as I was sitting elevated on the counter; Jackson still managed to tower over me somehow. His stance was tall and proud; and he looked at me like I was a precious work of art. His index finger flicked my clit; sending a jolt through my body; from the delicious sensation. He bit his lip; and sent me a devilish grin. “Showtime”, he breathed; and dove two fingers into me; before sinking to his knees; and burying his face in my warmth.

I cried out. Jackson’s tongue slid all over my folds; lapping me up – before sucking hard at my clit; and crooking his fingers, rubbing my g-spot with just the perfect amount of pressure. I threw my head back; and moaned. Jax let go of my nub. “They still watching?”, he grinned up at me. “Why?”, I croaked. “Are you considering putting on the nipple tassels?”. He growled slightly; and attacked my clit again.

My legs began shaking, as Jackson pushed hard against my front wall; and before long, I saw the sun, moon, and the stars all at once. My walls clenched around Jax’s fingers; and I made a sound somewhere between a mewl and a scream. Jackson was relentless; insistent on drawing out my pleasure; and I pulled his hair hard to get him to let go of my nub.

Jax stood up, and wiped his face. “Living room. Christening. Now!”. He yanked my jeans and panties all the way off; and I got off the counter. Jax pulled me in for a deep kiss; and looked behind me; at the agents in the cars outside. He sent them the middle finger; and walked towards the living room – pulling me with him.

I pulled off my top and bra; and suddenly had a very insistent biker latched on to my nipple. Jax turned me around; and smacked my ass cheek. “Couch. All fours”, he snarled; and removed his t-shirt. His heaving chest let me know he was not messing about. “Yes, sir”, I smiled sweetly; and got into position.

I heard Jax’s belt unbuckle, and a silent thud; when his pants hit the floor. I looked back at him; and bit my lip; as he removed his boxers – exposing his throbbing erection. “Hard or soft?”, he asked. “Any way you want it”, I smiled. He smirked for a second; before hardening his expression. “Eyes front, baby”. I looked forwards; and waited.

It seemed like an eternity, before he made a move. It was so quiet; and for a second I was afraid he’d left the room – when suddenly his blunt tip probed my entrance; and he slammed into me with a groan. His hands grabbed my hips; and he began thrusting hard into me. “I think I got bigger”, he moaned. “No, I just got tighter”, I retorted. He laughed, and smacked my ass again.

“I’m gonna marry you some day”, he chuckled. I looked over my shoulder at him, and smiled. “I might let you”.

---

Just after noon the next day; Jax and I were seated at the kitchen table with Lowen. “Good news”, Lowen said. “They found Kohns bag in a motel room”. I frowned. “My motel?”. “He’d been staying two doors down from you”. I shuddered at the thought. “What was in the bag?”, Jax asked. Lowen opened a file-folder. “GPS-locators; addresses and files in relation to your old job, and your new one”. She handed me prints of pictures. “These are images of you from both Chicago and Charming. Apparently, he had a camera set up in the air conditioner”. I riffled through the photos, letting Jackson look at them with me. “Shit”, I muttered.

Lowen nodded. “I decided to forego looking at them. I’ve been told some of them shows you and Jackson… well, you can see for yourself”. Jax took one of the pictures from my hand. “At least he got my good angle”, he said. The picture he was holding, showed me straddling Jackson; head thrown back in the throes of passion; and Jax’s face grimacing in extasy, as he held on to my breasts. I took the piece of paper back from him, and put it down on the table – backside up.

“Everything points towards your story of him stalking him, being true”, Lowen said. “So, self-defense holds up?”, I muttered. Lowen let out a breath. “There was a witness that saw you and Opie outside the cabin; when the shot was fired”, she said. I scoffed. “Great… so what’s the good news?”. “The witness was drunk on moonshine. His testimony won’t hold up well in court”.

I grimaced. “Can’t we avoid a trial all together?”, I asked. “If it’s only hanging on one witness…”. Lowen looked at me earnestly. “I’m quite sure we can keep you out of jail. But Jackson…”, she sighed. “This ATF-business isn’t going to go away. They’re going to keep dragging Cat’s case, to push her to flip on you”. “Not happening”, I said; shaking my head. “They need Jax at the scene, because they don’t have anything else on him. They need Kohn’s death to take him down – and I killed Joshua”. “They don’t have enough on you, yet; Jackson”, Lowen said. “I heard about your lockdown at the club; and you were spotted meeting with members of the alt-right movement… Stahl is gunning for you”. Jax leant back in his chair; and squeezed my thigh. “I’ve always been popular”, he smirked.

Lowen suddenly looked uncomfortable. “There’s something else…”, she said. “Before Stahl springs it on you… It wasn’t just peanuts and shotguns in that escalade with you, Cat. There were also drugs – Rohypnols. And he’d brought some toys”. “Not the fun kind, I gather”, I muttered. “Let’s just say, he had a lot planned for you”, Lowen said.

Jax’s hand slammed into the table. “I should dig that asshole up; and kill him again”, he snarled. “I didn’t hear that”, Lowen said. “Look, I know this is hard to hear; but it all points to you being a victim of kidnapping and attempted rape. You reacted by defending yourself; and killing Kohn in self-defense”.

I chewed my lip. “The witness… is he the one who called it in?”. “No”, Lowen said. “Apparently they were already looking for you”. I furrowed my brow. “Why? No one knew I was gone, but the club”. “My guess; Stahl was in contact with Kohn. He let her know his plans for taking you back to Chicago”. “She knew?”, I croaked. “She knew what he was going to do to me…”. Lowen shook her head. “We can’t prove that”, she said. “For all she knew; Kohn would have simply brought you back east; and let you go”.

I closed my eyes, suddenly dizzy. “She set you up, Jax”, I said quietly. “What do you mean?”, Jackson asked. “She’s the only one, other than you, who knew I was gone”, I said. “She knew you’d kill him; and she needed that to take you in… end club business”.

Lowen began packing up her bag. “You’re going to have to take this sit-down with Stahl”, she said. “Anything else will seem like obstruction of justice”. I nodded solemnly. “Ok”, I whispered. “But I’m sticking to my story”. Lowen shrugged. “That’s up to you, Cat”, she said. “I’ll do what I can to keep you protected legally”. Jax sighed. “Just… keep her out of jail. Whatever it takes”.

“Do you think they’ll keep me? Lock me up?”, I asked. “They can’t”, my lawyer answered. “Not unless they arrest you; or claim it would be a danger to you, to let you go”. She sent Jax a look. “This isn’t going to be Donna all over again”, he snarled. “I’m not letting that happen”. I frowned. “What are you talking about?”, I said. Jax clenched his jaw; and looked at me hesitantly. “Lowen”, he said. “Could you give us a minute?”. “I have a few calls to make, anyway”, Lowen smiled. She got up; and left the kitchen.

I took a deep breath; and looked at Jax. “What happened?”. “This ain’t the first time Stahl has caused trouble for us”, he said. “She set up Opie – made it look like he snitched… that’s how he lost Donna”. I felt cold all over. Jax read my expression; and took my hand. “Cat… that’s not an issue here. After what you did for me – for us – with Kohn… no one doubts your loyalty”. I was not soothed by his words. “You’re telling me, the club had Donna killed?”. Jax looked pained. “It’s not… it’s over. We’ve moved beyond it”. I frowned. “You’ve moved beyond it?”, I sneered. “Opie? That was the mother of his children!”. “I know”, Jax said quietly. “And he’ll get his retaliation on Stahl. Somehow”. I scoffed. “She didn’t pull the trigger…”. “She might as well have”, Jax scowled. He stood up; and pulled me to my feet. “That woman… plunged a knife into the heart of my club. She had my best friends wife killed… and it looks like she’s doing an encore on you”. I shuddered. “Am I… will that happen to me?”. Jax shook his head; and pulled me into his arms; leaning his face into the crook of my neck. “I will never let that happen”, he whispered.

Lowen appeared in the doorway. “Cat? I’m sorry; but we need to go”. My hands were shaking; but I nodded. “Ok”, I whispered. “Let’s do this”.

---

An hour later I was seated in an interview-room; Lowen at my side – and Stahl seated in front of me; with a smug smile on her face. “Thank you for coming, Catherine”, the agent said. “I had hoped we could have this meeting sooner; but I had a Botox-appointment”.

“Can you get to the case?”, Lowen said. “Why are we here?”. Stahl shrugged. “Well, I don’t know why you are here”, she said. “Your client is not under arrest… yet. I just want to have a conversation with her”. Lowen smiled. “Then; we’ll just be on our way”, she said. “My client has already given her statement; and you can’t hold her”. “I can, and I will; if I deem it necessary for her safety”, Stahl sneered; before looking towards me. “And I think it might be… Cat; do you know what Jackson Teller does for a living?”. I shrugged. “Mechanic… small business owner”, I said.

Stahl opened a file. “That business you’re talking about… are you aware it involves gun- and drug-trafficking?”. I raised my brows in an exasperated expression. “I’m an old lady. I don’t know anything”. “Hmm…”, Stahl sighed. “That house he has you kept in… you think auto-parts payed for that?”. “I’m not kept”, I snarled. “No?... Who pays the bills right now? It’s not your teachers-salary”. I leant back in my chair. “No, Kohn saw to that”, I said. “Did you help him?”. Lowen put a hand on my shoulder. “Cat… not now”. Stahl grinned. “No; I want to hear this… Are you suggesting I somehow helped agent Kohn in his actions towards you?”.

Lowen smiled. “So you agree… Kohns actions towards my client were severe; and bad enough for her to have to act in self-defense, and kill him”. Stahl sighed. “It is beginning to seem like that”, she said. “But if you think for a second that you’re safer with Teller; you are mistaken”. I scoffed. “Stop beating around the bush”, I said. “Am I being charged with murder?”.

Stahl stuck out her chin. “I can’t prove that you killed him in cold blood… in fact, we can’t find evidence, that you killed him at all”. Her face darkened. “You weren’t even in the room when he died”. I clenched my jaw. Lowen cleared her throat. “Get to the point, Stahl”. The agent looked at me seriously. “You’re bedding a murderer, Catherine”, she said. “Jax came in to that cabin, and killed Kohn; for taking you away from him… you’re a popular girl, kitty”.

I swallowed bile at her use of the nickname. “Let’s say he was… how would he know where to find me?”, I said. “I didn’t leave any clue as to where I was going…”. Stahl narrowed her eyes. “Someone must have told him”, she answered coldly. “Huh…”, I said. “And how did you know where I was? How did you even know that I was gone?”.

The agent didn’t answer – she hadn’t expected me to be able to put the dots together. “Agent?”, I said. “You say I’m in danger… help me understand how I ended up here”. “I can help you”, Stahl said. “Get you out of this clean… I just need your cooperation”. I leant in and looked at her menacingly. “Is that what you told Donna?”, I hissed. Stahl looked taken aback for a second. “Donna… was a good woman”, she said. “What happened to her… it shouldn’t have”. “No… that, we can agree on”, I responded. “Putting someone in a situation, that ends in a person’s death…”. Stahl pulled a face. “We talking about Donna, or Jax?”, she challenged. I tilted my head. “You tell me…”.

Stahl realized she’d over-spoke. “We’re done. This is your last chance. Tell me what really happened; Catherine – you can go home… re-start your life”. I smiled. “Oh, I’m going home. To my man and my step-son”. I stood up, and walked towards the door; Lowen at my heels. “This is our last meeting”, I said. “Anything else you have to say; can go through my lawyer”. “You’re playing with a dangerous man, Catherine!”, Stahl called after me.

I turned to look at her; smirking. “We play many games, agent”, I said. “The agents you had watching the house last night, can probably attest to that”.

We left the police station; and I took a deep breath. Bitch… you’re going down.

---

Lowen dropped me off at TM. I went straight into the clubhouse; and up to the bar. “Rat… drink”, I demanded. “What kind?”, the prospect asked. “Top shelf. Strong”.

Jax came out of the meeting room with Clay. He almost sprang over to me. “What happened?”, he asked. “She messed up… that’s what happened”, I growled. “What are you talking about, teach’?”, Clay asked. “She pretty much straight up admitted that she put Jax on the scene with me and Kohn”, I said. “You think she’s the one who contacted Darby? Told him?”, the president said. I shrugged. “I don’t know… but it’s pretty clear she’s used to setting people up”.

Jax ran a hand down his face. “That bitch…”, he snarled. I shook my head. “This is my fault”, I muttered. “I should have stayed. If I hadn’t left with Kohn… you’d have never had to come get me”. He took my hand. “No… Catching me at that meth-lab would have put me in almost as deep”, he grumbled. “It wasn’t exactly deserted when we got there… we left a few bodies in our wake… One of the reasons Happy had to burn it down”.

Clay let out a deep breath. “All right”, he proclaimed. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Give my best to Laroy”. Jax nodded; and Clay left the clubhouse.

I chewed my lip for a second; resolving to ask Jax something that had been on my mind, since he got back from his meeting the day before. “Baby, can I ask you something?”. He looked at me earnestly. “Anything…”, he said. “Rat, get lost”. The prospect ran off. “What’s up, darlin’?”. I took a deep breath. “Chibs mentioned the lockdown being due to retaliation…”, I began. “I asked Opie about it. He mentioned the dead body at Cara Cara”. Jax frowned. “Yeah… It was Darby’s cousin… our cousin-brother. I don’t know what that white trash group gets in to when they’re not dealing”. I smiled slightly at his joke. “You think that alt-right group did it?”, I said. “Pushing you to work with them; by creating a reason to attack you?”. He clenched his jaw. “I can’t prove it…”.

“Shit…”, I sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode”. He pulled me into his arms. “Let me take you home”, he breathed. “Neeta’s dropping off Abel in an hour”. I frowned. “You have to come back here?”. He stroked my cheek. “Yeah… we have a drop in Oaktown tonight. It’ll be a late one”. I couldn’t help but pout. “Ok…”, I muttered. “I can have Rat with you; if you’re uncomfortable alone…”, he said. I shook my head. “Not the company I’d hoped for tonight”, I said – looking at him through my lashes. Jax grinned in surprise. “I thought you’d be tuckered out from your meeting”, he said. I slid a hand under the hem of his shirt; slightly touching the skin of his lower back. He let out a soft breath from my touch. “Just a little… I have a few rounds left in me”, I smiled.

Jax put his lips to mine; sliding his tongue between my lips to meet mine – and pushing his groin towards me. “I’ll be home to take care of you as soon as I can”, he whispered. “I’ll make it a soft one this time…”. “Not too soft”, I smirked. He pushed against me harder, sending a jolt through my loins. “That’s impossible, babe”, he grinned.

---

I spent the rest of the day caring for Abel. He was teething; and being especially fussy. I calmed him down with a teething ring I’d been keeping in the freezer; and the baby was finally fell asleep around midnight.

I was exhausted; but at the same time giddy to spend some quality-time with my man. The house was hot as hell; and I reminded myself to talk to Jax about getting an air-conditioner. I took a shower, and put on some perfume and a robe. I tried putting on some makeup; but almost stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara; giving up. A bit of lipstick would have to do.

At 1 am; my eyes were drooping. Jax hadn’t checked in; and I decided to just go to bed – a little disappointed, and very sexually frustrated. I fell asleep almost instantly, on top of the covers; only wearing my robe.

Something slid up my inner thigh; and I jolted. “Shh, baby. It’s me”, Jax whispered. “Just lay still…”. I blinked; and met his eyes in the darkness. “Jax…”, I breathed. He opened the belt of my robe; and ran his hand down my chest and belly. “You want to go back to sleep?”, he whispered; and kissed me just above my bellybutton. I bit my lips; and shook my head. Jax grinned.

“Just lay back and relax”, he breathed. He pulled of his shirt and t-shirt; before leaning down to gently blow at my left, then right nipple. They both responded by perking instantly; from the cold air hitting them. Jax’s warm mouth enveloped the left one; as his fingers worked the right one. I was already breathing shakily.

Jax removed his pants and boxers; and laid down next to me. I felt his hardness against my thigh; as he put his leg over my right one – pulling at it to spread me open for him. I turned my head to face him; sighing in contentment. “You’re tired… maybe we should wait until tomorrow”, he smirked. I pouted. “No… wake me up…”, I begged. Jax grinned; and ran his hand down my torso again; ending up running his fingertips through my pubes. I yawned. “Really?”, Jackson scoffed. He slid his index finger over my clit. I jolted. “That’s better…”.

His lips found the sweet spot on my neck; and I bit my lip. Without entering me with his fingers; he continued working on my nub; making my whole body tingle deliciously. Jax warm breath against my skin made me shiver. He put his arm behind my head; holding me to him. I began panting – letting out little squeaks from delight. “My favorite sound”, Jax snickered. Suddenly it felt like my vagina went poof; and I came from his touch. “There we go”, he grinned; and moved his finger from my clit to his mouth – tasting me. I put my hand behind his neck; and kissed him passionately.

Jackson; crawled over me; placing himself between my legs. He slid into me with a quiet moan. “Talk to me, baby”, he whispered. “This good?”. “Mmhmm”, I breathed. “It’s good…” Jax chuckled. “You’re half way asleep”, he smiled. “Don’t stop”, I said.

Jax thrusted in to me a bit harder. I gasped. I slid my arms around his; feeling the movements of his muscles under his skin. I panted softly; and let out small mewls into the crook of his neck. Jax kissed me again; before speeding up his movements. “Give me one… just one”, he panted. I smiled; and clenched my muscles around him; making him groan. He came inside me; his sounds of release pulling me with him; and I clenched again – involuntarily.

Rolling on to his back; Jax pulled me with him, so I was laying on top of him. “I love you, sleepyhead”, he whispered.

I fell asleep with him inside me.

---

[rapeculturerealities]

I feel like we don't know how some of these people around the world being reported as "men" or "women" really identify. Especially young people, or people in highly transphobic, repressive societies, which is almost all of them. So can we just say people, and not "woman" or "gang of men"? Just because of their genitals being known, body type being shunted into one category or the other, or reported identity from family does not mean we KNOW. They weren't asked, or could be intersex.

maybe that would help keep TERFs and SWERFs away, too, because they REALLY seem to like your content, to the point you were flagged red for me. Avoiding their bioessentialist and sex binary rhetoric, even in cases you THINK involve cis people, is important. Many people on this planet are neither men nor women, and can't be understood that way. Many you don't recognize are trans, are. It cannot be assumed or reported with those assumptions.

same for "same-sex" marriage. It's not "same-sex" and "opposite-sex". Those phrases require us to think there are 2 sexes, opposing each other in neatly separated 2 category way. You COULD say same-gender marriage, but really there are often more than one identities involved yet it is still involving gay or bi people marrying in a queer way. So, queer marriage or gay marriage seems most accurate. Otherwise, at least say "same-sex" in quotes and make it clear it was the conservatives' language.

and like, "Megan Thee Stallion’s “WAP” revel in female sexual autonomy and freedom." No, it doesn't. It's about a wet pussy, which is NOT about "feeeeemales" (g*d it sounds like an incel convention in that article) and wet pussy can be had by people of all genders, in multiple ways. You see why TERFs like your posts? They reify the binary endlessly.

I feel like the first thing I should say is that the verbiage in all link posts is direct content from the page. I select some paragraphs to summarize the article linked except in the case of big name sites behind paywalls like New York Times, whose articles I reproduce entirely behind a cut because I don’t believe we should have to pay sites like those for news.  So most of your objections, while true, are not something that I control.  

I do agree that gender is not a binary and that genitals do not belong to any particular gender.  I try to cover articles and link to sites that are closest to the values that I want to uphold here, but I’m very rarely able to find a source that uses gender neutral language.  

I assume that when you say I was marked as red site that you mean by some extension such as Shingami Eyes.  This is troubling, as one of the weaknesses of services like those is that they depend on crowdsourced references, so any group with enough members who wished to launch an attack could easily enough manipulate the data and mark sites as unsafe just out of spite. I would hope that people continue to mark my blog as safe, but a casual look at recent posts or any pertinent keyword search would reveal the positions I take on these issues.  And just in case it wasn’t clear, I have stated support for trans folks in both the title page and user icon in hopes that TERFS are less likely to  reblog my posts because it would force trans-friendly slogans into their feed. 

TERFs occasionally turn up in mentions and I spend a huge amount of time combing through every like, share and comment to weed these out.   It’s a labor of love that , if done correctly, goes completely unnoticed to those who matter.  

But I really take issue with your assertion that it’s somehow my fault that this page is constantly besieged by TERFS.  To blame me for the content that I link for the kind of daily abuse I get, the hours I put in blocking unsafe followers and the sea of rape and death threats I get simply for supporting the trans community is appalling.  

TERFs don’t “like” my blog.  They make that very clear constantly.   The reason that they are drawn to my page is the use of tags .  Lately, I tend to see a swell in harassment generally after any post mentioning JK Rowling.   The nature of TERFs is to attack, belittle, smear and threaten those who disagree with their agenda of hatred.  Their attacks against me are ANYTHING but my fault.  

I work tirelessly to keep this blog as safe as possible and appreciate those who offer ideas for how best to do this.  This is important work for me.  But this gig comes with a heavy load of abuse and i cannot abide anyone who would would blame shift.  TERFs are responsible for the abuse and suffering they cause.  Only TERFs.

And as I’ve said many times and will keep saying as long as I am able, TERFs are NOT WELCOME HERE.

-Spider

[lavenderek]

fwiw i’m an A*3 volunteer - i do tag wrangling, actually - and i really do need to emphasise the fact that we are VOLUNTEERS, and there’s really nothing we can do when it comes to bigger issues re: the core of how the site runs and the values people feel it holds.

what i am really tired of is people assuming things about me because i’m a volunteer. people can be so ridiculously vitriolic - like that anon you got who was immediately at you like ‘SO YOU’RE FINE WITH CHILD ABUSE?’ is a perfect example of what i mean. no, i’m not, but i honestly do appreciate a rare space online that is *relatively* unmoderated - which is NOT to say it isn’t completely unmoderated. like you said, there are so many cultural aspects to even simple tags, and as a tag wrangler, you’re ‘trained’ on that. that’s just tag wrangling - i’m sure higher up volunteer positions also take the time and care to educate volunteers correctly on how to manage their roles.

again, though, there is fundamentally very little us volunteers can do for parts people might disagree with. we come from all walks of life and there are so many roles and we all only have so much time. fact is, the website is the way it and it’s unlikely to change beyond perhaps adding more ‘social media’ type functions, like blocking people. if you feel that there is content that is inappropriate or commenters that are inappropriate or whatever, you can report it directly to the people running the website (which i’ve personally done before for an extreme underage fic about a real life - albeit of-age - person), and i obviously didn’t check back to see if it had been removed, but i assume it was dealt with because i genuinely do have faith in the moderators. anyway, just some insight as someone who works with the site.

hey! thanks for the info actually this is really interesting. sorry about the delayed response, i saved it as a draft to come back to it later and then i got busy at work and forgot

while you're here, you mind if i ask you some questions? feel free not to answer, you're not obligated

i separated it into sections because i’m what? longwinded and easily confused

1. can this happen (has questions for you in it)

it's my understanding that the big uproar vis a vis CP fic on a*3 is more that a*3 is inadvertently creating a space where p*dophiles feel safe and can establish a following, in turn allowing them to normalize what they're doing and gain access to potential victims.

tldr, it's less "this is inappropriate" and more "the person who made this is dangerous." like, if the person who wrote that nasty fic you reported had a whole profile full of similar content and was gaining a following from it, that would be concerning.

is the overall effect a user has something that you all take into account when you're going through content on the site, or are you instructed to take the specific piece of content at face value?

and, do you think that's something it's possible to address by moderators? regardless of whether or not it’ll actually happen, do you think that is possible on this system?

and, even more optional than the other questions, if that was possible, what do you think that would look like? 

2. what is the process like on your end (has questions for you in it)

just for my own curiosity, how much leeway do you as a volunteer have over whether a fic should be reported? 

is it up to your own judgment or is there like a rubric or something? 

and what happens if the moderators decide that yeah, this fic can't be up anymore, do they remove the fic or kill the user's profile or what?

what happens if you report something, and the moderators decide it’s fine? does that reflect on you in their eyes? 

how often do you report fic? 

3. clarification of motive (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

like i hear you that you, personally, Anon J. Wranglerton, don't have control over the site itself. the topic of CP and abuse is touchy and wigs people out because it sort of self perpetuates.

it's like that anecdote that went viral a few years ago where a bartender explained that allowing one polite n*zi into the bar leads very quickly into lots of n*zis being in the bar. people want the n*zis removed from the bar. 

i'm sorry people accuse you of being an abuse apologist because of that, i think the idea that people wouldn't really see abuse as a concern is like, actually horrifying to them lmao and i can't necessarily blame them for that in and of itself

4. if i see where they’re coming from then what’s my problem (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i guess i don't share that reaction because disgusting content online isn't anything new for me. i accidentally came across it all the time when i was a kid going online. i nearly fell victim to an actual predator when i was 12 or 13. thankfully, once he asked me for more personal information i was able to get scared and see some red flags. (or if he wasn’t a predator then i should probably go and find my chat room boyfriend Oukami who explained “yiffing” to me and told me to send him pictures of myself so he could make me a wolf fursona)

from my perspective, the a*3 debate looks like this: predators are a concept that is deeply embedded in every corner of the internet, and very suddenly, people are very up in arms about a very specific website having predators on it. it’s like if all of a sudden people were like, “there are customers at Target who yell at the employees. if you still shop at Target, unfollow me.” 

like, yeah, you’re right, and that’s bad, but why Target specifically, and why now, you know? 

i think predators should be made to feel extremely unsafe in fandom spaces lmao, but i also think that’s something that can only be tackled socially. playing whack-a-mole with predators is a tale as old as time.

5. online predators (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

this is just me talking out of my ass, but my theory is that a huge component in kids today getting caught up by predators online is that the concept of anonymity and fear of strangers online has some holes in it on here.

first of all, people just a couple years younger than i am grew up on social media. that was the entire online landscape ever since myspace.

influencers use their real names and faces, and they have millions of followers and are treated like celebrities. a lot of these social networks make it extremely difficult to hide your identity at all. you sign in to youtube with your google account, which is linked to your phone and all your other accounts. instagram, twitter, facebook, and tumblr can all be connected, and a few of those apps encourage it and will interrupt you posting to be like “do you want to also put this on twitter, Firstname Lastname?” no, janet, i’m good. thank you though

this lends a certain amount of freedom to predators, because there is nothing stopping them from assessing somebody’s vulnerability and reaching out to them. 

6. online predators in fandom spaces specifically (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think the fandom space cultivated on tumblr has actively contributed to that. 

look at all these blogs, they’ve got “about me” descriptions with their name, their age, a blurb about their interests, their gender identity, their romantic/sexual preferences, sometimes their fuckin myers-briggs designation. this is all expected behavior on tumblr. 

it starts as a sort of “this is my blog, here’s what i’m about,” and is compounded by like, “NTs can reblog this post but don’t say anything stupid,” or “minors DNI, how old are you,” like, you have to kind of verify that you’re “allowed,” in a sense, to participate in some conversations or interact with some posts. 

i think there’s merit in both of those things, blogs are for self expression and for interacting with likeminded users; and i don’t think it’s “gatekeeping” to stop straighties from clowning on your post about queer issues. 

but this has inadvertently created a sort of entitlement to private information. it also creates this false idea that because you and i have x and y in common, we can interact comfortably. 

it’s crucial to remember that predators aren’t all scary white men who want to visit you at home. some of them are cool 20-somethings who just happen to be normalizing sexual content with children in it. and they genuinely don’t see what they’re doing as wrong. if they’re already your friend, and you see them saying shit about how they’re not hurting anybody, it’s just pretend, it’s just a kink, then you’re probably going to sympathize with them. 

this isn’t to say, “stupid kids, they’re bringing this on themselves by oversharing to the wrong people,” because it’s neither kids’ fault nor unique to children. this kind of oversharing is taking place with all ages and kinds of people on tumblr. 

this is to say, this is what this particular subculture has caused: healthy boundaries are kind of bulldozed to make room for a kind of disorganized sense of community and morality.

7. back to CP on a*3 (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think this kind of “CP is disgusting and you’re disgusting for looking at it” shit is dangerous. 

things this is NOT because of: 

CP deserves a place online

It’s A Slippery Slope, What Will They Ban Next

um, kinkshaming

there is no point in even trying to get predators off a*3

i just think it’s completely unhelpful. it’s literally a waste of their time. they’re wasting their time and hurting themselves and others in the process. it’s lacking in nuance and perspective. 

what we should be saying is “CP is a red flag. CP tells you something about the person posting it.” 

we shouldn’t be asking “are you okay with child abuse,” we should be asking, “what does this content say about the person posting it? are they unsafe to have around? if i realize too late that they’re unsafe, who can i turn to?” those are the kinds of questions we should be asking if our goal really is to protect people.

what the collection of block lists of supposed abuse apologists says is this: “you have to choose between not having to police online behavior, and proving your morals to me, a complete fucking stranger. if your morals are lacking, you’re out, we don’t speak to you anymore, and we tell everyone who will listen that you are a bad person.” 

not to delegitimize their concerns, but it’s fully just mccarthyism. like... that’s what mccarthyism was like. the fact that mccarthyism was bad isn’t even the point, it’s important to recall that mccarthyism did not work. it stopped happening for myriad reasons, one of which was that it was hurting people and wasting resources and doing absolutely nothing else. 

i obviously don’t want to be labeled “anti-american pinko scum” and fired from my job and disallowed from my neighbor’s house. who would? they’re not actually weeding out anybody dangerous, they’re just rounding people up who are just as angry as they are or who are scared of them lmfao. 

ever since that shitty post of mine went viral (which - “viral,” i guarantee it isn’t viral, i stopped looking at it literally that night) i’ve been terrified that one of these days i’m gonna like, comment on something and have the OP be like “wait a minute, you’re that bitch who made fun of some anti-a*3 people, unfollow me” lmfao. like, that’s what this rhetoric is accomplishing. 

i’m not boohooing, i deserved a slap on the wrist for making rude comments. i’m just telling you the extent of the results they’re getting. they made me feel sad. so at least there’s that. 

8. anti-a*3 people (has questions for anyone in it)

“fine, so we’re not trying to evangelize for not liking CP. so what? we don’t want people who like CP around. supporting that stuff is disgusting. we are blocking them for our own safety and don’t appreciate the tone police coming in and telling us it’s no big deal.” - an anti a*3 person, probably

yeah i mean, i get that. if i was really upset about something important and somebody told me “you’re right, but shut up about it,” i would also be pissed. 

my question, though, is this: is the underage tag on a*3 the limit we want to place on our activism against predators online? at minimum, is yelling at and blocking people about it on tumblr making us feel safer?

and also: how are we going to define the things we are trying to get rid of? what is underage? how do we account for differences in culture? how do we account for nuance when we make broad judgments? 

and also: who do we really hold responsible for this? who do we think is at fault and what do we want them to do?

i feel like we could all benefit from some perspective here.

9. back to you (has questions for you in it)

so like, is it fun? how’d you get the position? how long do you work typically?

do you talk directly with higher-ups or whatever? do you have coworkers?

do you have to read through lots of fic yourself or does stuff get reported to you and then you look at it? 

what other stuff do you report content for, aside from abusive content? like i read a post saying people shouldn’t be advertising their paypal or whatever on their a*3, do you nip stuff like that in the bud or is that something else? 

what if it’s just mistagged, presumably by human error not by a legitimate abuse of the system, what do you do? do you tag it for them or do you reach out to them and tell them to fix it or what?

who decided on the color scheme? can there be a skin that’s orange and avocado green? can you pass that on for whoever does the colors? i think i’d spend more time on any particular website if the color scheme was a nice, desaturated orange and avocado green.

nice

[dredshirtroberts]

Hooooo boy we are feelin some EMOTIONS today, folks.

this is not a happy post, if you’d like to skip I entirely understand, and in fact encourage doing so.

I’ve been needing to do a one of these for a lil bit because I’ve got Thoughts and Feelings and they are complicated and I can’t accurately parse them in my head so we’re gonna air it out on Tumblr like a sheet on the line during laundry day.

here’s the thing.

I got some complicated family feelings in my chest places and it fucking *sucks*.

I was kept from spending time with my family by various means over the past several years to the point where I wasn’t attending holidays - which, in my family, is just not done. You can skip a holiday but you have to make it up on another occasion and I...wasn’t doing that anymore. Two separate people had me convinced I was not loved by my family, that they did not care for or appreciate me like *they* could and that I was better off not being around my family.

And maybe they had some valid points. Which I hate admitting because they used a lot of “valid points” to get me to be completely isolated in life without anyone but them and any time I branched out I was, for lack of a better term, “punished” for having denied them my attention or time or whatever. (this is of course not as nuanced a take on it as I would prefer but this is already going to be long without me going through the whole...everything, again. You can search the captain rambles and life post tags on my blog for more on this topic).

Anyway...so I’m no longer with people who are actively trying to keep me from talking to other people/being around people who are supportive of my own efforts and goals, etc. And I was welcomed back into my family with open arms and that was...honestly unexpected. After everything I’d had told to me about how they were and how they should be and what I should feel about them...I wasn’t expecting them to love me.

I rode that rose-colored wave for a *while*. But as the world descends into chaos and I learn more things about myself that make me feel more like *me* than I have...possibly ever now that I try and think about it, I am seeing things that I had hoped had been exaggerated or made up by those in my life who had hurt me.

My parents raised me in a very right-wing conservative household. The evangelical style of christianity didn’t come until I was already an adult but the building blocks must have been there or it wouldn’t have happened so...extremely when it finally did. There were a lot of...really shitty attitudes towards other people that I didn’t recognize growing up in it - I didn’t recognize it until a lot later, in fact.

They’re...They don’t see anything wrong with the way they are. Which, you know, *sucks*. 

There’s going to be a lot of dismissive phrases littered throughout this because I’m trying to be...i don’t know. I do it as a thing to lighten the mental load on myself - dismissiveness and joking around, exaggerating for effect, etc. - which i know might come off weird but like...this is really fucking bothering me guys and I...I’m doing my best.

Cause here’s the thing. I was raised believing the world was one way and that we were *right* about things. We had the answers and anyone (liberals) who didn’t agree with us were wrong and would either see the light and come to our side or were too stupid to know how wrong they were so we wouldn’t have associated with them anyway. (reasons why i’m currently frustrated with the political opposition to Republicans/Conservatives/The Right #1 actually)

And then I grew up and I saw the world was not that way. And I expected that my family would be able to see the world with the insight I had gained, and..they just...don’t.

I’ve excused a lot of their shit beliefs recently. not like, trying to defend them to anyone or anything but I don’t confront them. Mostly because I know while they won’t say it to my face, I know how they think about people who think like me (because I was there for those conversations, I was there and I thought like them and now i don’t and that makes me one of those idiots they talked about, a stupid person who can’t see the truth they believe so fully that they think is backed up by facts and figures but their facts and figures are *flawed* - mine aren’t better but I can acknowledge that and extrapolating data from all the things and coming to a conclusion is what I was taught to do but now that I do it for the wrong side what must they think of me? What must they say behind my back?)

I have...a lot of kinda fucked up shit about my family. Nothing overt, nothing that immediately screams to me “Hey fuck-o, this shit isn’t a universal experience and something is wrong here!” but it’ll be small things that I’m like “Ah, okay. Not everyone had this experience and those that did are currently working through the *trauma* of it by going to *therapy*. Hm.”

I’ve done some work in that respect and that’s good. Doesn’t make my issues go away but makes it so I can handle them a little better. Most of the time anyway.

I’m trying to make several things that are true but contradictory work together in my brain and it’s not going well.

1) my family cares about me and wants me to do well.

2) my family has hurt me in the past and is currently hurting me (though not intentionally and not maliciously - please dear god let it be unintentional and non-malicious). 

3) My family does not “agree” with LGBTetc people.

4) My family do not believe that there are systemic issues inherent in the government we live in/under and the society we must participate in (Because it benefits them, and they have not had to challenge their thoughts on this before).

5) My family are kind of racist.

6) My family was my only support system when I was leaving an abusive situation.

7) ...My family might have abused me a little.

I go back and forth on point seven a *lot*. See point 2 about the intentionality/maliciousness factors. If they didn’t mean to do it, does it still count? 

Does it matter if it still hurts?

My sister outright told me that she doesn’t agree with trans people (meaning she doesn’t believe you can be trans, really). But I’m okay because it’s me, and now I can be her gay best friend when we’re drinking at family stuff.

She didn’t understand why I was hurt by that. I attempted to explain it and she got defensive and angry so I just...didn’t fight about it. Just played the part. I’m her brother when it benefits her but otherwise I’m still her sister. I’m still mom and dad’s daughter. Even though I told them I’m not a girl. I told them I’m a guy.

Dad’s response was the most favorable initially and I think...he might eventually come around to it (he’s always wanted a son. he has a boy dog and has also imprinted really hard on his lawn roomba about it). He also might...not.

I’d like to transition further. Eventually. If it’s feasible. But also, right now it’s not. Right now it’s me cutting my hair short and not wearing dresses or skirts (even though they’re super comfy) because I want to avoid being misgendered as often as possible. It’s binding for uncomfortable and unsafe lengths of time because I am a MAN dammit, and I will be a man at this family function in whatever way I can. And when I go to the length that I do to be seen the way I want to be seen and I am *ignored*....

fuckin’ hurts you guys. I just fuckin’ hurts. 

And I want to correct them. I want to stand up and say STOP YOU’RE HURTING ME. PLEASE. I AM NOT A GIRL. I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME I JUST DIDN’T KNOW WHY I DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT AS A GIRL. PLEASE JUST CALL ME A BOY, USE MY PRONOUNS, USE A NEW NAME OR AT LEAST THE NICKNAME THAT ISN’T MY FULL NAME. 

but i don’t.

because I’m scared of losing them again.

And it’s fucked up because they’re *already* lost. They’re Fox-watchers and Trump-supporters and they don’t want to listen to science or facts or *anything* outside of what’s presented to them by pundits and talk show hosts, and the fucking EIB network with their political propaganda for anything that isn’t what the liberals want.

And I don’t know that I can get them back because they’re *real* far down that particular rabbit hole. And I’m...I’m just trying to figure out what I want in life. What makes me happy. And part of what I want is what I always wanted and never had.

I want my mom and dad to look at me, see me, see what I do see how I try and what I love and care about and tell me that I’m enough. That they love me because this is who I am and I am enough for them. Even if I wasn’t accomplished and didn’t try they would still love me because I’m *me*. and I’m their *child* and they *love me*.

And GOD it is so FUCKING painful to know that’s not a realistic thing to hope for. Because I’ve been trying for 28 GODDAMN years doing ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I can to be enough for them. I played good, christian, conservative little girl for SO goddamn long, even when I wasn’t Christian or conservative anymore, even when I saw the cracks, I wanted to be what they wanted.

And even now that I *am* what my dad wanted (a son) I’m not enough because to him i’m still a girl, to my mom I’m the failed daughter the one she didn’t do enough for so now it’s about how she fucked up and not about NO. This is ME. Stop. Stop LOOKING at me like that WHEN YOU DON’T SEE ME. YOU SEE SOME IDEALIZED VERSION OF ME WHO WAS NEVER GOING TO EXIST BECAUSE SHE WASN’T ENOUGH EITHER.

...

This is a lot more than I thought it would be, pain wise tonight, guys. My bad. 

I’m still struggling with my eating habits, I’m still struggling with my self-worth, and finding what makes me feel fulfilled. I’m getting better at some of it though.

I’ve smiled and laughed more in the past week or so than I have since I came out to my family. I wouldn’t have done that without my very very good friends who are very very kind to me and god I wish I could do more than draw stupid pictures and write stupid stories for them but it makes them happy too? so i’ll just do what I can and maybe it’ll be alright. 

Gonna try not to fall too deep down the abandonment issues pit tonight folks. I’m already upset enough. 

Good talk.

[moonlightchn]

Im just going to put this here because I know people will see it. But RP or not, story line or not. Let's not joke about trauma of losing people. Some of us have gone through that recently and are preparing to go through that again. Not to whine, but we need to be thoughtful of who may be reading those reblogs when they are on dash

No of course, I get it. I'm sorry if the post made you feel bad or hurt anyone else. I certainly can not control who reads my stuff on other people's blogs, but while being in here you should be aware that these topics will be discussed and I will always try to do it as lightly as possible. I'm not trying to make people feel pity for others who suffer of traumas or have had it rough in life. And I believe that there's moments in which we have to be serious and mature, but this one was certainly not one.

I have lost people too and recently I've seen family members lose people close to them and it's never my intention to trigger anyone or make anyone uncomfortable or unsafe with the topics I speak here, but I can not know who is watching or how they will react, and that's why I have a warning specifically about sensitive topics.

Truth is, even though I haven't gotten in depth with the guys stories yet, Chris losing his family did take a toll on him and caused him a trauma, there's not another way of putting it. And I never intend to make fun of it, and I get how sometimes it may look like I'm doing it, but joking about certain things it's also a way to cope (that I completely understand not everyone may get or agree with, but its reality). I much rather laugh off tragedies, and that's the truth, because it takes weight away and makes it easier for me to deal with.

My post was mainly because I genuinely do found interesting how Chris seems to be everyone's punching bag but as soon as his past gets brought up everyone eases as if they /needed/ a reason to ease down.

I do admit that I have a very dark sense of humor sometimes and I try my hardest to keep it out of here so it doesn't cause troubles or anyone feels attacked by it, I will now add on my intro post a more extensive warning on these topics so everyone can now what they'll find here.

I will eventually make tags for the guys stories too, especially for Chris' for this same reason, so you will be able to block it if you feel more comfortable like that.

Once again, I'm sorry if the post hurt you, I didn't intend for that to happen, and if you need or want to talk to anyone ever please know I'm here and I'll do my best to help out in any way I can. Thank you for bringing this up, and even if we do not agree I hope you can also respect my point of view.

[troped-fanfic-challenge]

Who will be on the CHOPPING BLOCK!?

Fifteen fics were written following a Theme of [Angst], including the Tropes [Stranger to Lovers] and [Road Trip AU], and with a Character focus on [Harper McIntyre]! Voting determined the 8 who would continue in this competition…

We had fifteen (15) INCREDIBLE fics this round, but, unfortunately, not everyone can move on to the next round. In this round, eight (8) authors are on the CHOPPING BLOCK! Thank you so much to all the authors who participated, and, to the authors who were Chopped, we hope you’ll consider joining future Chopped events, and we are so happy you decided to be a part of Chopped Madness! 

Our reviews for these fics can be found under the cut!

The eight authors who have been Chopped are:

Author 1: @iexasheart​ : You can bloom again [Harper x Clarke] [Rated T]

Qualifying Round Fic: don’t be who you were

Author 2: @shen-gong-oops​ - Never Gonna Give You Up [Harper x Raven] [Rated T]

Qualifying Round Fic: The Sixth Bride

Author 3: @justwalkedaway​: Take back my life (Prove I'm alright) [Harper x Monty] [Rated T]

Qualifying Round Fic: Where is the path to Wonderland?

Author 4: @mobi-on-a-mission​ - The Hardest Thing [Harper x Emori] [Rated T]

Qualifying Round Fic: 2199 Nights

Author 5: @kuklash​: I Need You (Like I Need a Gaping Head Wound) [Harper x Echo] [Rated T] **graphic depictions of violence, major character death**

Qualifying Round Fic: There's Gonna Be a Party When the Wolf Comes Home

Author 6: @hopskipaway​ - i wanna shoot the whole day down [Harper x Monty] [Rated T] **major character death**

Qualifying Round Fic: i've got a heart in me (i swear)

Author 7: @vmreed​:  What the Hell is a Pulmonary Embolism? [Harper & Murphy/Clarke] [Rated T

Qualifying Round Fic: How to Kill a Two-Headed Turkey

Author 8: @pawprinterfanfic

Qualifying Round Fic: Simmer Simmer Simmer

—-

Now that you have been Chopped, all the fics you’ve written in Chopped Madness have been revealed and you can post about your fics! Don’t forget to tag us so we can share!

But don’t be discouraged if you were Chopped this round (or unable to participate)! We’ve created a non-anon collection, where you can submit your fics if you would like to write for other rounds, keep pace with the writing period, etc, in a non-competive way! That’s where you’ll find us!!!! We’d love to read your fics and will gladly share them on our tumblr! The non-anon collection can be found here! To submit your fic to the collection, simply enter ‘chopped_non_anonymous’ as the name of the collection when uploading your fic!!!

Non-Anon AO3 Collection Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Chopped_Non_Anonymous

To all the remaining Chopped Madness Authors, we hope you’re excited for ROUND 2, which starts TONIGHT, 12:00am (EST) March 26th!! Please be sure to check our google doc for theme and trope explanations! Good luck!

@iexasheart​ Mods’ Review

The concept of this story, with Harper having Nightblood on the Ark and no one knowing or even understanding it, is so cool. It plays such a relevant part to really drive the whole story. Harper and Clarke are such a good ship, they’re a perfect match, like it's shown through the fic, they’re both survivors, they both can push through and make it through anything. This pairing added a nice layer to the story! Harper being kidnapped and held hostage for months was super dark, and very angsty! “She catches bits and pieces of conversations, when she can, and learns that they’re keeping her there just in case she is a Commander. Through her tears, she screams at them that she’s not, that she doesn’t know what this means, but they don’t ever listen.” This was such a good scene, we were genuinely terrified for Harper and so concerned about her. We loved this as a rationale, and that it makes it worse for Harper because she isn’t and doesn’t understand, it was a really nice touch to add an extra layer of angst! We also really loved the catharsis of the moment when Harper finally gets free. Harper getting to express her pure fury and rage was a nice character moment, a chance to let her feel her pain out loud. “She hasn’t moved from that spot, but for the first time in years, Harper takes a deep breath in and feels a fleeting sense of freedom” this quote really captured that moment so well! It was a nice touch to let Harper learn that being a nightblood kept her alive, giving her a chance to see that the thing that caused her so much pain and misery was also what kept her alive, letting her appreciate something unique and special about her! Them digging up Polis together was such a cool scene. It added an extra layer to the scene we saw in canon, and it also gave a little extra mystery (to Harper at least) when Clarke found Lexa’s throne! And the ending, such a nice way to relieve the angst of the story. Them being happy in Eden felt like a natural and easy conclusion to a story where the characters didn’t get much ‘easy’. 

@shen-gong-oops​ Mods’ Review

This fic was ANGSTY. Best friends who were never allowed to hug or touch? Who had to go on a roadtrip in seperate cars just to be able to share an adventure? So good! And Raven being introduced as the surrogate Monty chose was a great way to incorporate the strangers to lovers trope! Also, so cute, that it was so clearly a set up. The fact that they had been planning this trip since they were kids makes the angst hit even harder, the idea that they’ve spent years wanting to get to be normal kids and be together, but they never could. There were a lot of great character moments, but some of our favorites were Raven ironing, and Harper getting to express her anger. Raven ironing felt super in character, a way to maintain order and structure in the chaos, a nice way to show that she likes to be in control of her life, and a nice way to show how much its hurting her that she might not be in control after her accident. Harper getting to express her anger and frustration with the world and its unfairness was very sincere and felt very earned for her character, and it was a nice way to show how Harper was really feeling about the hand she’d been dealt! As soon as you mentioned Raven being an organ donor, we KNEW you were going to have her get hurt, and we were already upset about it, but the scene was so well done. It was angsty and sad, and scary, but by adding that cheesy rom-com joke about Harper having Raven’s heart, you were able to add a little levity and a breath of air to the scene in a way that was super natural and so well timed! 

@justwalkedaway​ Mods’ Review

First off, Monty and Harper feeling like strangers in their own marriage, and coming to realise they loved each other in a different way than they did 10 years ago was such an angsty and super creative way to incorporate the ‘strangers to lovers’ trope! This fic was so angsty, and painful to read! Little things like Monty forgetting their anniversary, and Harper being aware that Monty was attracted to Miller even though they were drifting apart were really great ways to establish where they stood in their relationship! We really enjoyed the ending, with them getting a chance to talk to one another and realise they were on the same page about their feelings, and then letting them start to forge a new path forward. We especially liked the line “They would never have to be strangers again, that their love as friends would help them grow together. Everything was going to be okay.” The paragraph at the end, where you really explained that the connection between them was so good, and allowed for a slight tint of hopefulness for their future while maintaining the angst at a 10! 

@mobi-on-a-mission​ Mods’ Review

This fic used the combination of the character, theme, and tropes so well! Emori x Harper is such a unique pairing, and it definitely works great! The set up of the Mountain Men killing all of Skaikru is really eerie and angsty, it adds a really unsettling air to the fic where you feel like both of them are unsafe at every turn! “I’m an invader too” the idea that Emori is an invader because she was left out to die, and they see her as a stain, an unwelcome piece of their community is so good, this was a really nice character moment! Harper copying Lincoln’s map, and wanting to carry on with their plan to go to the see was a great way to tie canon back in and set up the ‘road trip’ they were going to go on! Emori teaching Harper the same way she taught Murphy was also a really fun addition! Harper waking up screaming from her nightmares to marry an angst plot and a romance plot together, letting them be physically comforting and hold each other through it, this was a really nice detail to incorporate! The story kept you really invested the whole time, and having Harper be kidnapped towards the middle/end of the fic was a really great way to do that. It was an opportunity to add angst and danger, but also a way to show how Emori had grown during their relationship,  to not only love Harper, but to put Harper’s safety above her own. “She was always light, so light, so light… She was the sun” this quote is so lovely, and such a nice way to describe Harper!! And that final kiss? “Tears welled in her eyes and smeared against Harper’s skin as they kissed”? So angsty, so good!!

@kuklash​ Mods’ Review

To start off, 90’s political thriller? Corrupt government officials and spies on the run? Like…someone make this movie for us, but it has to be Chelsey Reist and Tasya Teles as the stars! On to the actual fic though, a kidnapping and being forced to hit the road is a great way to hit all the tropes! Maintaining the kidnapping for a while helped the story feel serious, and made the stakes higher, adding a little fear and letting us know Harper wasn’t going to be safe in the story, which was a great way to add more angst! This fic had a lot of great character moments that really showed who Echo and Harper are in really great ways. “..but she has to stay strong. If she wants to survive she has to be strong”, this line is a great way to show Harper’s characteristics! We loved that Echo was her false name, but Ashe was her real name, and we loved the reveal being a soft moment of peace. It was a nice way to involve a canon element, but in a way that fit the story, because of course a spy on the run wouldn’t give her real name. It was also a nice way to show Echo slowly warming up to Harper! Echo’s death scene was SO well executed, even though we knew they weren’t safe, we were still stunned when she died! And don’t even get us started on the ending, so eerie and creepy and a great way to tie off the story with a slightly ambiguous ending!

@hopskipaway​ Mods’ Review

The set up for the road trip was great, a nice way to tie the angst directly into that trope, and Harper and Monty never meeting until this point was a great addition. It added the strangers to lovers part, obviously, but there's also a nice amount of angst involved in bonding over the loss of a friend. There were so many nice character beats that really showed Jasper’s bond with all of them, like when Harper knew Monty’s favorite candy just because Jasper had talked about him so much, and how Jasper thought Harper would be cute for Monty. It worked really well to establish how much they all meant to him. We loved  the moment of all of them finally arriving at the bar together. It felt very much like a community of strangers who were really joining through loss. We really liked the dynamic of the entire bar scene. “I worked with him.” She wasn’t sure why when someone dies you trade around excuses and explanations of how you knew them, like it was some sort of grief currency.” This line was such a great way to express the uncomfortable feeling that situations like that can have, and it was a nice touch. The delinquents coming together after Jasper’s Death was PAINFUL, and a great way to establish a sort of Found Family dynamic in a way that definitely hit the angst mark! Definitely crying at that last bit. Also, great use of the song Jasper was singing in the Rover being on the Jukebox!! 

@vmreed​ Mods’ Review

Harper’s outsider POV on the Strangers to Lovers Story was such a unique twist on the trope, and the use of a bus crash within the ‘road trip’ was also a really great take on that trope! This fic was a great way to showcase how the tropes we give for Chopped can be used in unexpected ways! This fic had a lot of great character moments too, like Murphy being so obviously grumpy and sullen that Harper knows not to try with the cute Tour Guide move is so good. A nice touch of characterisation that was added in a very natural and interesting way. Harper losing Carl was also a great moment for characterisation! “Carl stopped breathing, and Harper died a little bit too” this was such a sweet touch of angst, and a nice way to show that Harper’s life exists beyond this story, and that she and Carl were friends. We loved the very real action drama of the bus crash, with Harper running back in over and over to save people, the chaos and the fire, the acknowledgement that people actually died. With all those deaths, it sounded like the Road Trip from Hell, but the trio really jumped into action and it was great to see their interactions. The whole scene was an exciting and fun read! 

@pawprinter​ Mods’ Review

The Qualifying Round was so great and your fic was a lot of fun to read! There are so many callbacks to early Bellarke and it was great to see their relationship bounce back on their journey. When Russell warns Bellamy that they can only trust each other...he can only trust Clarke, and then all he does to save her...well, let’s just say this fic gave us all the Bellarke feels!!! The idea of Sanctum beginning anew, and going back to harvest the land, is a very human thing to do on a foreign planet. “The sky glittered with stars, showing constellations he was unfamiliar with. He missed the stars from Earth more than he realized…” This line is so good. Can you imagine looking up and not recognizing any part of the night sky? This is such a cool thing to add, and we loved it! The vines are SO creepy! We loved how creepy and scary you made the Hansel & Gretel fairy tale with the vines scene. It really upped the stakes and had us on the edge of our seats. AND THE ENDING?! Bellamy frantically searching for a cure that likely doesn’t exist, only to stumble upon a mass grave from the cannibal lady in the woods?! INSANE, and SO well executed!