#recognising abuse is stupidity apparently

[extremely-judgemental]

I would have let this slide if you hadn't just attacked me on my own post. Alright, let's unpack.

Cassian had a shitty childhood. He grew up poor and lived in a place where adults were abusive and children were pitted against each other. He didn’t have a roof over his head. He fought his way through the camp and stole supplies from other kids. He did what he had to for his survival. Yes, all true.

Until Rhysand’s mother took him in. Then, his life drastically improved compared to that of other kids in the camp. It didn’t stop him from bullying them. You want proof?

Azriel came to the camp later than the rest, already abused and tortured by his brothers. It was a known fact around the camp and even if it wasn’t no one would suspect otherwise given his hands were scarred. He didn’t know how to fly or fight like the rest of them. When he decided to learn on his own away from everyone, Cassian and Rhysand sought him out. Cassian admits, without any remorse, to beating the shit out of him and mocking him first. He didn’t have to do that, they weren’t in the training pit. He went to a traumatised boy and beat him for no reason. Cassian is a bully.

You can blame the adults and systems all you want but that doesn’t give you pass at being vile to another person. Yes, Illyria is a fucked up place. It doesn’t mean he had to bully Azriel. It wasn’t survival. If he had wanted to help him, he could have done it well without the abuse.

Asking why Azriel stuck with them after years is victim blaming. And saying since he stayed, Cassian and Rhysand must be good is just denial. Azriel doesn’t see any of it as abuse because he suffered far worse at the hands of his brothers. Cassian and Rhysand are the first people he met after his mother and his family. Having locked up until then and tormented all his life, he wouldn’t know what kindness means. For someone who only knew abuse and torture all his life, he wouldn’t be able to tell right from wrong. Which is why he accepted the two boys who beat him up and ‘help’ him later. Azriel considers them brothers because they were comparatively better than his own brothers who burnt his hands. It doesn’t make either Cassian or Rhysand a better person itself.

You want to talk about Morrigan situation? Cassian could have denied her. If he truly cared about his brother whom he had known for years by then, he must also know how much it would hurt to sleep with the woman he liked. It wasn’t a favour he did to Morrigan. He saw the opportunity to split her from his brother. He was jealous and afraid that he’d lose Azriel and his solution was to agree to sleep with Morrigan. He regretted it. When? After he was done? After he got what he wanted? Does he regret every time he flirts with Morrigan in front of Azriel? Is it his regret when they are exchanging underwear in front of him even after five centuries? Or in front of the woman he suspects to be his mate?

No one hates Cassian for being young and having made mistakes. They hate him for his hypocrisy. When it’s him or his friends, they were young and they did what they had to for survival. They will hug it out, say they regret it and everything is A-ok. But when Nesta did the same when she was young and scared, it’s unforgivable. The Archeron sisters were poor too. It was survival too. He didn’t have to be mean to her. Cassian doesn’t even stand up for Nesta even when Rhysand threatens to kill her. And he laughs at her and mocks her with Feyre when she’s suicidal.

Cassian is no better. He’s not a villain in anyone’s story. But he is still a bully. To Azriel and to Nesta. He never matured. He never changed. His methods changed.

My dude, get tf out of my post. I am criticising a fictional character and if it’s my ‘half vision’, it’s sitting in my blog for my people. If you love him and want to praise him, go ahead. No one is stopping you. Do it on your post or on others’ when asked for it. Don’t go calling people stupid and think that justifies you.

Cassian being mean to Nesta for Feyre's shitty childhood will never not be funny to me.

He spent his entire childhood beating the shit out of other kids, including Rhysand, and stealing their supplies. He abused and mocked Azriel for learning to fly on his own knowing his past as well as the others did. He slept with Mor because he couldn't handle his brother having feelings for a girl.

Five centuries later, he's still no better.

My dude, look in the mirror.

[asharasasylum]

Pretty Baby I ♡  Rafe Cameron x Step/Adopted!Sister Reader

author's note: I needed to publish something and I found this saved in my drafts. It’s in 2 parts. (Part 2 in now here) It’s not really edited either and not amazing so I’m sorry about that. I do want to say the main character is inspired by Nicola Peltz character in backroads. Please really read the warnings with this one. warnings: Dark. Abuse. Violence. Child Abuse. Parental abuse. Angst. Trauma responses. Obsession from both ends. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Toxic relationship!! Aged up characters. Step-cest. Eventual Smut. Eventual character death. 18+ MDNI

He's your saviour, your knight in shining armour but he can also be your own worst enemy.

It was your tenth birthday when your father was finally arrested. 

While he deserved it, truly deserved it, you didn’t care. 

All you could do was cry as you sat at the back of Peterkin’s car, babbling about how you just wanted to see your daddy. 

It must have been a few hours later, time rolling into the late hours of the night and you were still with Peterkin. Only you had found yourself in the police station, tear stained face as you bit at the nail of your thumb. 

“Y/N.” 

You turned to look up at Peterkin to find her standing beside a man you didn’t recognise. 

“This is Ward Cameron,” Peterkin introduced you, with a small smile. 

The man tried to give you a smile but his face dropped as soon as he took you in. You hadn’t realised how bad your appearance was then, the purple marks that covered your skin were a normality you were accustomed to. 

Peterkin took Ward a few steps from you, somewhere they thought you couldn’t hear. 

“Did he- Did he do that to her?” Ward questioned. 

Peterkin just nodded. 

“But he’s her father,” Ward was in clear disbelief as he spoke, pointing at you. 

“And now she has no one.” 

That’s all Ward apparently needed to hear, throwing his jacket over your shoulders as he directed you to his car. 

He tried to make light conversation in the car, bringing up things he thought you might like, only to find him stumbling on his words each time you said you didn’t know what he was talking about. But he never stopped trying, and you think you were glad for that. 

It was the next day that you met everyone, all of them welcoming you with open arms, excluding Rafe. 

He had glared at you, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. It was almost as if he was waiting for the opportunity to crack your school open on the wall behind you. He just needed you to give him reason enough to do so. 

You didn’t know when he stopped looking at you like that but eventually a few years down the line you and Rafe were more akin than you had ever believed possible. Even if there was still that anger that bubbled underneath Rafe’s skin when he looked at you, a tinge of coldness behind those eyes. 

You were fifteen when Rafe saved you and at that age you still seemed to hate each other more than ever. 

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to come to the wreck with you and your stupid friends,” you huffed, leaning against the car window. 

“Dad said I need to look after you while they’re out for a few days,” Rafe argued back, yanking your arm off of his window. “You’re going to get marks over my car.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, settling for resting your arms in your lap. “I’m sure he just meant to watch out for me, not drag me to everything you’re doing.” 

“It’s food at the wreck. I’m sure you’ll cope.” 

You didn’t know who you hated more at times, Rafe or his friends. The arrogance that radiated off of them at all times made you want to vomit in your mouth. You never understood why they bothered to come to this side of the island if all they wanted to do was sit and make jokes about the people that lived here. 

It was within ten minutes that you found yourself outside, walking along the boardwalk. The gentle North Carolina breeze brushed against your skin as you stared out into the bay. It was quiet, too cool outside for people to be lingering. 

That’s what you had thought until a familiar voice was calling your name. 

“Y/N… it’s you, isn’t it?” 

Your stomach dropped and as if your body was working on autopilot, you froze to the spot. 

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Precautions had been put in place to stop this from happening, restraining orders filed and prison walls to keep him locked up and away from you. Wherever Ward had needed to do, he had made sure to do it. 

But clearly it hadn’t been enough as your dad stood a few feet away from you, inching close every second. 

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he said, hands reaching out for you. 

He looked the exact same, the blackness around his eyes from years of addiction and the cracked lips. He sounded the same too. 

And when he took a step forward, you were ten years old all over again. 

“You can’t be here,” you finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I-I had to s-see you,” he stuttered, hand reaching forward as he got closer. 

Only now you were finally walking back. 

“Baby. It’s me.” 

“You can’t be near me,” you spoke louder this time, trying to put space between the pair of you.

But your dad was faster and without warning his hand latched around your neck, yanking your body towards him. 

“Dad, please,” you pleaded, eyes wide as you tried to pry his hands from your throat. 

“It was you that put that order against me,” he spat, grip tightening. “I knew it was you.” 

He was shaking, veins popping out the side of his head. You knew the look, it was the first thing you saw when you closed your eyes at night. But it changed slightly, he had never been this enraged before. It was like he wanted to kill you, like taking his temper out on you for years wasn’t enough. 

“It was you that called the police that day, wasn’t it?” 

You shook your head, a sob caught at the back of your throat as you told him, “No, I swear.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I swear it wasn’t me.” 

“I did five fucking years in that prison because of you.” 

His grip was bruising and you weren’t sure if the fact you couldn’t breathe was because of his hands on your neck or because you were choking on your own sobs. 

Your ears were ringing so loud that you didn’t hear Rafe running over to you. But you saw him when his fist flew into your father’s cheek and you watched as his foot slammed into your father’s body over and over again. 

“Don’t you ever touch her,” Rafe screamed into the man’s face, dropping to his knees as he drove his fist into your father’s face. 

Kelce and Topper eventually pried Rafe off of your father, realising that he probably wasn’t going to stop until he killed him. 

You were surprised he wasn’t already dead yet, his lifeless body covered in blood and bruises as he wheezed out a breath. 

Rafe was quick to cover your view, grabbing your face in his battered hands as he held you. 

“Are you okay?” Rafe questioned, eyes staring into yours. 

You were crying, you hadn’t realised how badly until Rafe touched your soaked cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you scream for me?” His voice was panicked, blue eyes running over you to check you were okay. 

“I’m sorry,” you broke into a fit of sobs, unsure of what else to say. 

Rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he wrapped his arms around yours. “You don’t need to apologise. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.” 

Rafe didn’t leave you alone that night and you were grateful for that. It must have been hours before you calmed down, sobs turning into sniffles as Rafe consoled you. But eventually it happened. 

“No ones ever done something like that for me,” you told Rafe, eyes finally peering up at him through wet lashes. 

“I care about you,” Rafe’s voice was gentle as he spoke, a sincerity to it that you had never heard before. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” 

You chuckled then, you hadn’t meant to because what you were thinking wasn’t really funny but you had. 

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought you hated me,” you confessed.

“I don’t hate you.” his lips lifted into a smile then. “I guess I haven’t always been the best brother.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not okay. You deserve better.” 

There was a sort of silence that fell over the pair of you then. One you were eager to fill, unsure how to process Rafe’s words. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.” 

It was Rafe’s gentle breaths that eased you into a sleep that night, face buried into his chest as he continued to hold you. 

That was the first night of many. 

Everytime you found yourself awoken to your own gasps of breath, it was Rafe who you sought after for comfort. You’d always be knocking on his door at odd times in the night, wet round eyes looking up at him, pleading for entrance that he was so willing to give. 

It was Ward that had to intervene, finding you in Rafe’s bed one morning. 

Then sleepovers with Rafe were switched for therapy sessions and while you were desperate to get them back, you knew that going against Ward wasn’t something either of you really wanted to do. 

So you didn’t even though you always really wanted to. 

From then on it was a thin line that you and Rafe tread along. 

One that was quickly blurring with each word that slipped past his lips. 

“It’s fucking disgusting, do you know that?” Rafe spat, storming away with your phone in his hand. “Fucking throwing yourself at my friends like a slut.” 

“He gave me his number. Not the other way round,” you shouted at him, chasing him through the greenery. 

All of Rafe’s friends were staring at you, used to the constant arguments between you and your older brother by now. But luckily you had put some space between you and them, the words that were threatening to spill from your mouth you didn’t want them to hear. 

“And you were lapping every single bit of it up,” he shouted, facing you now. 

“Is that so wrong?” You asked, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I think you seem to forget that my dating life has literally nothing to do with you.” 

You could feel the anger pouring off him, nose flared and eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you. “It’s hard not to make it my business when you embarrass me in front of all my friends.” 

“Fuck you, Rafe.” You hit your hands on his chest in a pathetic hope it would hurt him. 

He seized your arm, yanking your body towards his. 

“I hate you,” you swore, wishing the words into existence. Even though you knew they’d never come true. 

Rafe saw right through you, shaking his head as he laughed. “You hate me?” 

“I fucking hate you, Rafe. You’re awful.” 

“I guess you won’t mind if I do this then.” 

Within a second your phone was smashed to the ground, his foot following it. 

You screamed at him as he did it, fists flying at him as you kept repeating that you hated him. It’s like he didn’t even hear you, didn’t even feel you as he continued to break your phone into pieces on the ground. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” you hissed.

He turned to you, eyes clouded with a darkness that almost frightened you. Almost. 

When his hand reached to touch you, you slapped it away. 

“Let’s go,” he demanded, stepping over your phone as he walked to the direction of the car park. 

With a tearful gaze you followed him, not even bothering to pick up your shattered phone on the way. 

There was no use fighting him, not when he was like this. It’s not like you wanted to argue against him, not here anyway. There were things you were itching to say. Things that couldn’t be said in front of the likes of the people here. In front of anyone really. 

When he shoved you into the car, those feelings bubbled up into your chest, hard to ignore when his fingers touched your skin. They dragged along the column of your chest, eyes following them as they trailed upwards, reaching to grip around your throat. 

“Do you like embarrassing me?” He said, voice low as it cut through you. 

“Do you like hurting me?” You retorted back. 

He shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Don’t…” 

He bit down on his words, hand dropping as he turned away from you. 

But you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Because you were thinking it. 

//

Rafe had been walking on eggshells around the house all evening with you. He lurked behind corners when you were around, clearly waiting for the right moment to talk to you. 

It wasn’t till you were fighting with your late night thoughts, making your way down to the kitchen for a moment of peace, that he found you.

You felt him before you heard him, feeling his body slowly gravitating towards you. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

“No,” you were cold as you answered him. 

“You’re still mad at me,” he stated. 

You twisted around to look at him in the darkness of the kitchen, wanting to glare at him, to cuss him out but you struggled to find the energy to even do so. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

But he didn’t need to apologise, his words barely touching your ears when his scent was crowding your senses. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe shook his head, age turning away from you. “Stop.” 

“I don’t mean to,” you croaked, unable to take your wet gaze away from his face. 

He sighed, rubbing his jaw with his thumb as if taking a second to contemplate something. All it took was another look at you and it was as if his decision had already been made.

“Dad’s gone for the weekend,” he told you, eyes finally lifting up to yours. “He won't be back till Monday.” 

He didn’t need to ask, you both knew what he was saying and you both knew what your answer would be. You’d never said no to Rafe before. Why would tonight be any different? 

You always took the left side of Rafe’s bed. It was the closest to the door, easiest to get to in ungodly hours when you needed him. He was always accommodating, leaving the space for you free even after months of you not being there. It was second nature for both of you at this point, even when you didn’t want it to be. 

There was something oddly comforting about it. The fact that Rafe after months still slept on the same side of the bed as if he was always waiting for you to take the other side.

For years it had always just felt like a delusional fantasy. But in the last few months, especially with the way Rafe had been acting, you felt your mind starting to believe that the feelings you had could possibly be shared. 

It's all you could think about as you stared into his eyes, his fingers playing with yours. It’s all you thought about.

“Rafe,” you whispered. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, fingers sliding under the bottom of your top as he rubbed your sides. 

You couldn’t help but sigh at the subtle touch, stirring a heat inside you that was hard to ignore. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

“You know,” You swallowed, struggling to get the right words out. 

There were so many things to say but how were you even supposed to say them? 

Rafe closed his eyes, hand tightening around your hip as he gripped onto it. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, it was more of a gentle squeeze, something you mistook as reassurance. 

It was hard not to lean into him, brushing your nose against his. Everything about it felt right, even if it was entirely wrong. 

“Rafe,” you breathed, your words touching his lips. 

His hand retracted from you and suddenly his words were saying things you didn’t want to hear. Things you hadn’t expected to hear. 

“Don’t,” it was quiet, hardly above a whisper as it left his lips. 

“What?” You were taken back entirely.

“You can’t stay in here if you’re going to kiss me,” he answered through clenched teeth. 

“Right.�� 

But nothing about this felt right as you retreated from him. 

Had you completely misread all the signs? Had you really been feeding so much into your delusional fantasies that actually believed they could come true? 

His hand being snatched was like a final cord that snapped in you and just couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“So you don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?” You asked, sitting up on the bed. “Make it make sense.” 

“You’re my sister, Y/N. Am I not allowed to be over protective with you?” He retorted back.

“No, because it’s not just that,” your words were getting caught in your throat, desperate to come out. “You- You don’t act that way with a sister and you know that.” 

“You’re reading into things-“ 

“Fuck you, Rafe,” you hit at him, this time it had been with a force that meant to hurt. “I’m not crazy and don’t make me feel like I am.” 

Everything was rising to the service suddenly, all the feelings you had bottled up for years, threatening to drown you if you didn’t let them out. 

“You know how I feel.” Tears filled your eyes as you gazed down at him, pleading for some sort of reaction. 

“Maybe I step over the line of being inappropriate with you,” he tried to say. “And I don’t mean to do that but that doesn’t mean-“ 

“Oh my fucking god,” you almost laughed at his words.

He was spouting bullshit at you, words he probably told millions of other girls after leading them on for ages, only to drop them as if they were nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. 

But you weren’t just any girl. 

“You’re going to wake everyone up,” he hissed as if he was mad at you. 

You wanted to hurt him then. You had never wanted to hurt Rafe before, maybe get under his skin from time to time or push his buttons. But you wanted him to bleed for you like you did for him. 

“You’re sick,” you spat at him. 

His hand reached out towards you and you slapped it away. 

“I’m not some random fucking girl, Rafe,” you cried, shaking beside him. “You’re evil.” 

You couldn’t even look at him, too scared of how you might react. 

You needed to leave that room, try and save the last bit of sanity you might have left. 

It wasn’t hard when Rafe didn’t even try to pull you back in, not even saying anything to make you stay. 

“You know I didn’t want to say it before but you do remind me of him.” 

The last place you had expected to find yourself had been the cut, drinking and smoking with Sarah and her friends. But after a week of you wallowing in your own self pity, Sarah was growing incredibly worried. Most of your household was. 

You wondered if they knew what happened, especially with the way you acted in the house. It wasn’t hard to notice you were avoiding Rafe in your own home. You two were always drawn to each other, practically spending every second together in that house, to laugh, to chat, to fight. It didn’t matter how happy or upset you were, you were always found together. 

But every time he stepped into a room, you were looking to find the quickest exit. Never being in a room with him for longer than a second. 

You needed space from him as much as you possibly could get. As much as he would even allow you. 

You weren’t sure if Rafe knew where you were and there was some part in you that hoped he did, wanting him to be so angry with you in this second. You just wanted him to feel something for you, even if it came through a deep anger that had you flinching from him. 

You swallowed the rest of your drink at that, trying to forget even if it was just for a few seconds. But there was always something pulling you back in. 

This time it was Sarah, phone in hand as she grabbed your attention with a call of your name. 

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to muster a small smile. 

“It’s Rafe,” she told you, signaling to her phone. “He won’t stop calling me. He’s asking to speak to you.” 

“No,” you simply said but your face twisted into something hideous. 

You could tell in the way Sarah instantly listened to you, telling Rafe some excuse about why you wouldn’t talk to me. 

But you knew she wouldn’t drop it that easily. It’s why seconds later you found her sitting next to you, wearing a weary look as she took you in. 

“You know you can talk to me,” Sarah whispered, hand reaching out for yours. 

“I know,” you nodded. 

“Did something happen between you and Rafe?” She asked, squeezing your hand. 

You looked at her then, furrowing your brows. 

“Did he do something to you?” 

You snatched your hand from hers, eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“I see the way he looks at you,” she continued, a scowl sitting on her lips as the thought crossed her mind. “It’s sickening.” 

“He didn’t touch me,” you confessed.

How were you supposed to tell her that was the reason you were upset? Because he wouldn’t touch you. 

“Can’t I just be mad at him because he’s the biggest asshole on this whole island?” 

“You can say that again,” she agreed. “We all hate him here.” 

“I don’t hate him,” the words rolled off your tongue like second nature, always ready to defend Rafe even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I don’t get it,” she sarcastically laughed, shaking her head. “I swear Rafe could burn this whole island to the ground, taking me and the rest of our family with it and you’d just hold his hand as he did it.” 

“That’s not true, Sarah.” Your face softened when you looked at her. “You mean everything to me.” 

“But Rafe means more, right?” 

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s different with Rafe. You know that.” 

“But he’s a bad person.” 

“You know how he’s been there for me. When literally no one else has. You know what he’s done for me.” 

“I know that he saved you from your dad-“ 

She reached out to touch you again but this time you didn’t want to hear it, moving to walk away. But Sarah followed. 

“I know that must have been awful for you but you can’t just let him hold that over you,” her voice grew as she chased you, catching the eyes of the group. 

“I don’t let him hold that over me.” You both knew that was a lie. 

“He treats you like shit,” she screamed at you, making you finally turn her way. “He treats everyone terribly but I honestly think he treats you the worst. I don’t get it because you just let him.” 

“You don’t have to understand,” your voice was shaky as you spoke, arms crossing over your chest. “I don’t need you to understand because honestly I don’t understand it myself.” 

“He’s never going to treat you the way you want him to treat you.” Sarah looked at you defeated, arms held up as she backed away. “It’s not in Rafe’s nature to be nice.” 

You couldn’t tell your sister that you didn’t exactly want Rafe to be nice to you. 

In reality you couldn’t care if he was nice to you.

You enjoyed it when he was mean to you, bitter words cutting through you when he wanted to get under your skin. 

And sure if the only way he was going to touch you would be a bruising grip on your wrists or his hand wrapped around your throat, you’d take it. 

But you did also crave for him to be nice to you, sweet like when he soothed your cries with his fingers grazing your back. His voice gentle as he hushed you, lying beside you in his bed. 

You wanted every bit of Rafe you could get, the good and the bad. You wanted all of it for yourself. 

But that wasn’t happening anytime soon, not with his arm draped around some random girl. 

You hadn’t known why you forced yourself to come to this party, the annual bonfire was usually something you attended with Rafe by your side. It was your thing. 

The idea of booze and friendly faces, had been a nice idea earlier this morning. But as you stared around the familiar faces, you felt nothing but dread. 

Dread at the thought that this was how life was going to be. A constant numbness holding your body captive. 

“You want another one?” JJ asked, holding a can out for you. 

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking it from his hands.

“You know you don’t have to stand over here by yourself,” JJ stated, bumping his elbow with yours. “We don’t bite even if Rafe says we do.” 

Your face flushed in embarrassment at that, you didn’t want them to think you thought of them like that. There had been days when you possibly had judged them too harshly, you had never meant to, it was just easier to listen to Rafe then. 

Even though you could tell JJ meant it as a joke, your lips parted instantly wanting to defend yourself.

“It’s not like that,” you tried to reassure him. “I’m just-“ 

“I’m joking with you,” he chuckled lightly. 

Your body relaxed at that and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“You want to talk about what’s got you so down?” He asked, taking space beside you. “Or are you one of those that drinks their problems away.” 

You took another swig from your, answering his questions. 

“I see.” 

“I’m not actually much of a drinker if I’m honest,” you told him. “My- uh-” You weren’t sure why you were saying it but JJ made you feel comfortable, feeling the honesty slip from you. 

“Your dad?” The amused tone had dropped from his voice, smile faded as he took a swig from his beer. “I know the feeling, trust me.” 

“Yeah.” You forget that almost everyone knew about your situation. Rafe’s saviour moment when you were fifteen had been spread across all local newspapers. 

“But you know can’t let trauma hold you back.” He pressed the bottle to his lips with a smirk and a wink in your direction. “When in Rome.” 

You laughed at that, catching you off guard as you responded, “We’re not in rome.” 

“I know.” He shrugged, smiling along with you. 

JJ would be good for you. He seemed sweet and genuine, he understood a lot of the trauma you had gone through. You had heard enough about him through Sarah and Kiara when they were around and if he treated girls anything like how John B treated Sarah, you were sure he would be a catch. 

But as your eyes peered into his and your laughter died down, you could only think of one person. The same person who was burning holes in the back of your skull as you turned to face him. 

Rafe was still standing on his side of the bonfire but the girl that had been all over him before was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t walk over to you, didn’t say anything or motion to follow him but as feet took off, you already found yourself making an excuse. 

“I’m really sorry but I got to run,” you told JJ, trying your best to give him an apologetic glance. 

He nodded, not seeming too disappointed nor surprised at your sudden departure but there was a slight look of confusion on his face. 

You ignored it, not really caring about it as you pushed yourself to your feet. All you could think about was following Rafe’s larger steps, letting him lead you to where all the cars were parked, where no one else would be able to see you. 

His truck was in a secluded area, parked by trees that shadowed it. It wasn’t close to any walkways and it was enclosed by other surrounding cars. 

It didn’t surprise you when you were suddenly slammed to Rafe’s door, a hand wrapping around your throat to keep you held there. He always lurked in the eerie silence, waiting for a moment to pounce Rafe, especially when it came to you. But what had surprised you was how tight his grip was, finding yourself wheezing for air as you looked at him. 

“You like slutting it out for pogues, hmm?” He hissed, leaning into you. 

Even in the darkness you could see how blown out his eyes were, the light shade of blue being overpowered by black. When his grip tightened even more, you actually became frightened, eyes widening at the sight of him. 

“Like opening your legs for trash?” He spat. 

You let out a strangled breath, becoming frantic as you tore at his hand to get off. Normally that was all that it would take but today Rafe wasn’t letting up and your pleas were being ignored. 

“So angry with me that you would debase yourself like that. I mean my friends were one thing.” He shook his head, jaw clenching as tears glazed his eyes. “But fucking JJ Maybank.” 

He dropped you then, letting you collapse to the ground as he took a step away from you. 

You were gasping for breath, hand holding onto your neck in disbelief of what had just happened. 

All of a sudden Sarah’s words rang in your head and you thought maybe you didn’t want to be treated like this anymore. 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” 

Your head twisted around at that, finding Rafe’s pacing form as you said, “You can’t look at me right now?” Tears were streaming down your face as you took a second to get up, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?” 

Rafe turned around, eyes narrowing at you. 

“You’re exactly like him-” 

“Don’t fucking start with that bullshit,” He went to argue, pointing in your face. 

“No, you are,” you laughed, finally realising. “You’re exactly like my dad. Everytime you hurt me you always have a reason to blame me. It’s always my fault.” 

Rafe smirked at that, nodding as if he was in agreement. “Yeah, it’s why you always come running back when I apologise. So eager for more.” 

Your hand connected with his face and you heard it before you felt it. Your hand stung afterwards and when Rafe began to laugh as a reaction, you immediately regretted it. 

“Is it my turn?” He questioned, a smug smirk on his lips. 

“You’re sick.” Tears were streaming down your face, painting your cheeks and chin. Yet he didn’t seem to care one bit. 

He only turned away, stepping round the truck and calling out to you. “Get in.” 

Without hesitation you did. 

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

[figaroswilson]

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙙 ⇒ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘹 𝘦𝘹𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳!𝘰𝘧𝘤

Chapter 1

masterlist

story summary: Kira Barnes, the younger adopted sister of Bucky Barnes, is forced out of the dark underworld of espionage and into the light of the new world of superheroes when her brother abandons her with the Avengers to go on the run. She is set in her ways and determined to find her brother until she meets Pietro Maximoff, someone who challenges her black-and-white view of the world.

story warnings: violence, swearing, blood, descriptions of abuse

chapter word count: 2000

< previous chapter // next chapter >

read on wattpad

~ ✺ ~

When SHIELD collapsed, Kira convinced Sam to move to New York to be closer to the Avengers.

DC just wasn't quite the same for him anymore. Not after meeting Captain America and then promptly taking out the city's secret HYDRA cell.

Steve had originally suggested the move. Sam wouldn't have to be an Avenger in any official sense, but he could be around people he knew and trusted, which would be reassuring after that whole mess. It was Kira who eventually managed to persuade him, though. After he'd helped rescue her from HYDRA, they had quickly become close friends. Her insistence made the prospect of moving to a new city easier. Less daunting. It also didn't hurt he'd managed to find a place near the Avengers' Tower with rent that was actually reasonable.

Kira was, to say the least, glad for the company.

She often seemed to find herself alone in the Tower, whilst the rest of the team was out on a mission. It was for her benefit. Apparently. Her therapist insisted her mind just couldn't handle high levels of stress so soon after everything, so it was best to take a step back occasionally. Kira wasn't a fan of those sessions. Frankly, she would've dropped the whole thing if Tony hadn't insisted. And because it was nice to have someone who finally seemed to make sense of her fucked up head. Not that she would ever admit it.

Over time, she realised she didn't mind too much. She was always looking for an excuse to be at Sam's apartment anyways. The tiny, slightly messy, studio was her favourite place to be, helped mostly by the fact one of her closest friends lived there. Every time she would show up, the two would fall into an easy routine of buying greasy takeout and watching cheesy romances, no matter the time of day or the reason for Kira's appearance.

Like usual, they were sitting in what Kira called 'Sam's extended bedroom'. He insisted it was his living area. She wasn't convinced.

She had been staying over that weekend, whilst the rest of the team was on a mission somewhere in Eastern Europe. This time, she had been eager to miss out, urging the others to go on without her. She used the weekend-long visit as an excuse to get takeaway for nearly every meal, on Tony's card, despite Sam's protests that it could not be good for them at all. He quickly let it go when she threatened to eat his food.

"I don't get it." Sam pointed to the characters on-screen, confused at the newest movie Kira had put on. As it turned out, it was a family drama with multiple romantic storylines and it was starting to hurt Sam's head. "Is that supposed to be his little brother, grown-up?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And he doesn't recognise him? Like, at all?"

"Yeah..." she said, realising the absurdity of it now Sam had pointed it out. "But can you blame him? I mean, look at the actor playing him as an adult. He doesn't look like his younger self at all. Even his eye colour's different."

"Well, it is a movie," Sam reasoned. "It's fictional. Like, they 'struggled', but live in a mansion in central London. You're supposed to suspend your disbelief or whatever."

"Yeah, or whatever. It'd be easier to do if I wasn't so stressed about this stupid thing," Kira sighed. She poked at the laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of her, with the back of her fork, as if that would hurry it up.

As much as she loved Sam, she hadn't bailed on the mission just to spend the entire weekend with him, though it was a perk. The actual reason, that had been slowly decrypting for the last two days, sat in front of her. The laptop she was doing it on, which she had found in a dumpster behind a pawn shop, was so run down it had to be kept permanently on charge, and its fan whirred so loudly, she was sure it was going to break. All to watch some stupid CCTV files so she and Sam could try and find her runaway brother.

Just like she'd promised Nat, she hadn't told anyone else about it. Which was why they were doing everything, in secret, in Sam's apartment, whilst the rest of the Avengers were away.

Kira had mainly taken over Nat's involvement in the search, as her memories returned, and Sam took over for Steve, to avoid suspicion from the rest of the team. The other Avengers only knew a couple of things about Jamie. First, he used to be Steve's best friend and was Kira's adoptive brother. Second, whilst his legal name was James Buchanan Barnes, Steve had given him the nickname Bucky and Kira the nickname Jamie. He was also a former Winter Soldier, currently on the run from the authorities and a topic that was completely off-limits.

But that was all they knew. They weren't aware of the extent of what Jamie had done. They hardly knew what Kira had done. The information in the files that, first, Tony, and then the rest of the team, had received, only touched on what Department X, and later HYDRA, had done to them. Not what Department X and HYDRA had made them do. Sam, Steve and Nat were the only ones that knew exactly who the Winter Soldiers had hurt. And, apart from Nat, no one knew anything else.

To Kira, that was fine. That was all they needed to know. The depth of what had happened in Department X, what had happened outside of Department X, and what Nat and Jamie were, wasn't their business. And what Kira was planning, dependent on finding Jamie, wasn't their business either. Not even Nat's. It didn't bother her much no one knew the whole truth. It wasn't like she was hurting them by not telling them. She didn't think they'd care much anyways.

Sam and Kira had spent nearly the whole of the last year trying to find Jamie. He, however, didn't seem to want to be found. It was clear he was hiding. After Nat had found the tape of him at the Captain America exhibition, only small signs of Jamie had shown up. First, they came from across North America, but later they started up in Europe. Mentions in police reports of someone sketchy near a crime scene with long brown hair, wearing a baseball cap, covering his face. Weird acts of kindness from a quiet man with a metal prosthetic arm. A mysterious stranger, walking to compensate for some heavy weight on his left, moving into an apartment, ignoring everyone and then quickly moving out again. It was still promising. Even if his movements never made sense.

There had been a tip-off, recently, to the police in Rome. A man with shoulder-length brown hair had reportedly stopped a bullet with his left hand. Of course, no one had taken it seriously. It was 'impossible'. Which was precisely why they had managed to hear about it. After some digging around, Kira found someone willing to sell her, through less than legal means, CCTV footage of the alley the day it took place. She had to decrypt it herself, though.

The laptop somehow whirred even louder now but didn't seem to be working any faster. It was so bad even Sam was starting to worry, glancing over at it one too many times. She was just glad it was badly encrypted. If the encryption was advanced, it would've needed a much more powerful device, the type only Tony had access to and that was a no-go. Plus, the laptop was old. No one would miss it once it finally croaked.

Still, the laptop was battered enough that the decryption might finish in anywhere from the next few minutes or the next few days. She sighed and looked up at the TV screen, instead. Bad idea. The younger brother was getting all teary-eyed at the older one, who still hadn't recognised him, whilst vaguely talking about their family. Maybe a movie about long-lost siblings wasn't a great idea right now.

The doorbell interrupted them then. Sam looked over at Kira, panicked. "It's okay," she reassured him. "My danger sense isn't going off, it's probably just Steve or Nat." She checked her phone, sighed and then held it up, showing the hour-old text from Tony that they must've missed. "See? It has to be them. They got back a while ago."

"You sure?" he asked.

"No, Sam. I've been lying about my powers this whole time. I'm not even a Super Soldier," she deadpanned.

"Hilarious," he said, sarcastically, getting up to open the door to Steve and letting him in.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be working?" he asked almost as soon as he entered, looking pointedly at the TV, before dumping his bag next to Sam's bed.

"What happened to 'hello'?" Kira muttered into her noodles.

"We are, don't worry," Sam answered, sitting back down. "It's just taking forever to work."

Steve walked over and squished into the small space between his two friends. He stared at the laptop for a while like his glare alone could fix it.

"Hey, Steve?" Kira asked.

"Yeah," he replied, turning to her with his usual kind smile.

"You know the mission?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"...What happened?"

He stared at her blankly for a second. Then, "Oh, right. Shit, sorry." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Yeah, it went well. You can read the mission report later if you want. Everything happened basically as planned," he told them. "Got Strucker and put him in jail, shut the base down, found Loki's sceptre— actually, there was something off." They looked at him curiously. "We found two enhanced. Twins. About your age." He turned to Kira.

"My age?" she asked sceptically. As Sam always loved to remind her, she was old enough to be his grandma. Great, more sad sibling stories, the voice in the back of her head added, unhelpfully.

"Biologically," he amended. "Think Strucker kidnapped and experimented on them, actually." Kira could almost see him lose his train of thought at the horrible realisation. More kids taken and hurt by Nazis for their own benefit. It was officially the world's shittiest never-ending cycle she would've been naive to think had miraculously stopped with her.

"Well, where are they now?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Not sure. They ran off almost immediately. Can't blame them. We're trying to keep tabs on them for the meantime, though."

"Why? You gonna invite them into the Avengers too? Get a little formerly kidnapped-by-HYDRA boyband going? A bit too specific, don't you think?" Kira joked, darkly. It was a bad habit.

"I mean, maybe. You might make some friends then, Ki." Steve was clearly very proud of himself with that. Kira was not.

"Hey!"

"Ouch."

"Or... you could come to the party Tony's hosting."

"Ugh, I already told you I'm not going," she turned away from them, defensive. "What the fuck am I going to do there? Smile as the richest and most boring people in the city tell me their life stories?"

"Sure. If you have to. At least you'll get in some practice socialising."

"You'll have fun, I promise," Sam tried.

"That's easy for you to say. Everyone loves you. Not many people like casual conversation with a Winter Soldier," she sulked. Kira paused. "Wait." She turned to Steve again. "Did you just say 'practice socialising'? What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, suddenly very offended. I know how to socialise... right? "Sam?"

He was silent for a second, clearly weighing up his options, before blurting out, with a pained look on his face, "Girl, you have no friends."

Kira scoffed. "What are you then?"

"Apart from me."

"And Nat?"

"You've known her forever. She doesn't count."

"Steve?"

"You work together. He doesn't count either."

She scowled at him.

"You've run out of people, haven't you?" Sam asked, a smile creeping up on his face.

"Oh, fuck you." Kira threw a pillow at his head as he burst out laughing.

~ ✺ ~

[magicalcloudwitchsstuff]

My TIF step-sister has repeated multiple times in graphic language that I deserved incestual abuse, has made my hand non-functional for a month on purpose (I am a musician!) by deliberately trying to break my finger because I put my arm between her and my mother after she hit my mother in the face, has spit on me, called me every sexist slur under the sun, called me a failure every day for a year first thing in the morning. All this, in full knowledge that I was at different stages of suicidal ideation (one of which was directly triggered by her).

Then, she turned around to LGBT associations and psychiatrists crying that I am abusive because I just don’t believe she’s a man because she claims she’s one. I even use her new name and pronouns when she’s around. I just do not believe she’s a man and she knows. That’s it. I just refuse to believe her claims of being a man. I’m not physically nor verbally abusive, I do not try to impede her from getting treatment. I do nothing other than not believing she’s a man. Because I see a girl. I feel wholeheartedly stupid and die a little bit inside every time I have to act like she’s a boy but here we are. I go on with my life and stay out of the house specifically to avoid her. But that’s not enough. I refuse to believe the cult’s ideology so I deserve abuse, apparently. I am committing an unforgivable toughtcrime. I must be punished.

And everyone believes her. Some people even justified her actions to my face.

This is the kind of person that thrives in “queer” spaces. Abusive violent pieces of shit who use their hands because they can’t put together enough critical thinking to recognise a tautology or basic scientific knowledge.

Also you look like a freak, on top of it. 99% percent of y’all queer somethings & trans identified people look like absolute dirty pieces of garbage even on your best days. You look grotesque. It was important to me that you knew.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[filiadraws]

Very late Prompt 15: Control Post from the Sticktober event

Warning: Includes Blood and abuse!!

It started with a game. A game with a Stickfigure inside. You could do anything you wanted with it. You could be mean and hurt it or you could be nice and chose the more friendly site of the items given to you.

The only thing you couldn't get was a reaction from it as it wasn't alive. The creator had made sure to make that very clear to the Player.

So the Stickfigure just stood there, frozen in place. Only moving when you nudge it or if the force of your attack was strong enough to make it stumble.

Other than that nothing from it.

All it took was a glitch soaring through the site to change everything. To change the lifeless eyes of the stickfigure.

The First thing he felt, was pain. Immense pain traveling through him as his code changed and adjusted to the newly gained sentience. Form glitching and squirming under all the input he suddenly receives.

And then darkness.

When he woke up again he looks around properly for the first time in his life. Recognising that he's on a desktop. He couldn't even tell why he just knew that it's a desktop.

Looking ahead he came eye to eye to the User. Staring at him in frustration and anger.

Seeing that the Stickfigure seems to be awake, He opened the newly coded little Chat function.

[When?]

The Stickfigure stares at the message.

"..... what?-"

He couldn't talk further without some coughing interrupting him at using his voice for the first time.

[When did you come to life?!]

The Stickfigure startled at the new message from the User. Only then seeing that what he's saying is also appearing in the Chat.

".....I-i....don't know..."

[What do you mean you don't know?!]

"I-i don't know...I-i just... Th-there....was pain a-and...i-i could barely see..."

[I don't want to hear your excuses! How did this happen?!]

"I-i.......i don't....kn-know...."

[Of course you don't know! Do you have any idea what you did?!]

"....n-no..i-"

[I had to take down my game because of you! Because you had to come to life!]

'.......what?...'

In this Moment the stickfigure realised that this person is not just some User. No, that's his creator and that him coming to life was more than upsetting to them.

"....why...did you had to take it down?"

The Stickfigure didn't know why that is the first thing he asks, but maybe the answer explains more than just that.

[Because of the nature of the game, dimwit! Because people can do anything they want with you some ||bleeping|| ||bleep||-hole decided to notify the stupid guys from SticksRights! Demanding to examine the game to make sure that you're not exploited or harmed in case you were alive! But back then you weren't! You didn't had an ounce of what they call sentient-code when they looked at you! But since you apparently do now i had to take it down before i have to talk with them and their ridiculous rights and lawsuits they could bring again!]

The Stickfigure stared at the lengthy message. That's why? Is that why they're so angry? That they had to take the game down?

He stared longer at the message, perplexed by it’s anger intensity at him coming to life. Part of him could kind of understand it, assuming that he wasn’t supposed to gain sentience. But the other, the bigger part of him, questions if that is really reason enough to be so upset.

„….Why...don’t you just…make a new model for the game? A new lifeless Stickfigure and upload it again….“

[Because for some stupid reason the game refuses to work properly if you’re not the model! It’s glitching and bugging to the point of being unusable and i don’t know why!!]

The Stickfigure didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t know what to say and the creator stared at the Stick.

[Did you try to communicate with someone?]

The Stick blinked.

“….How? Was this chat in the game all the time?”

[No you idiot! Why would there be a chat in a game that is just for playing around with a Stick?! I meant if you tried to signalise to anyone out there that you’re alive now.]

“….N-no… How could I? I barely remember how everything went when I came to life!”

[And you are sure of that?! Because if I have to deal with the idiots from Stickrights again I will make you pay for that!]

“How did you notice that I was alive in the first place?”

The Stickfigure felt like he should have asked that question much sooner, but how his creator was the one to ask questions before and that they seem to derail into an angry rant easily, he only got the chance now

[I got reports of the site with the game glitching and not working right so I took it down with the idea of it only being temporary but when I opened the game files and the game itself you started moving on your own! So how could I not notice?!]

The Stickfigure guesses that that made sense. But only guesses.

“….So what now? You can’t boot the game up with me still being in it and you said making a new Stick-model doesn’t work. So what now?”

There was no response for a small while. The Stickfigure’s creator looking to be in thought and just as the Stickfigure wanted to say something again the creator started typing.

[First I’ll check if any of the people from Stickrights got notified by someone watching you coming to life and then I’ll see what I do then. *If I find out that you lied to me and did communicate or tried to with someone you will regret it!*]

The Stickfigure was taken aback by that accusation and wanted to argue but just then everything went dark. Not pitch black and he didn’t pass out, which the Stickfigure thought for a second he did. No, the game interface just turned darker as if some nonexistent lights were turned off.

The only thing that was pitch black was the area where the window out of the game would be. Where he saw his creator and parts of the desktop just a moment ago.

It took him a bit to realise that this was because the game got closed. No matter how loud he screamed for the creator to come back, nothing happens. His voice doesn’t even echo from the walls, as if the darkness before him swallows any echo before it could reach the Stick’s ears.

And he stood like that for a while until he was tired of just staring out into nothing and starts to explore the game he was made for.

He didn’t really had much use of the settings like the brightness or other stuff. The only thing standing out there was a button labeled ‘Ragdoll Mode’.

“Ragdoll?”, he spoke to himself, “….Does it...have something to do with ‘to rag’? But then why the doll part?”

He thought a little. He was on his creators pc and they mentioned the game-site glitching out. To him it makes sense that the creator would check for glitches in the game’s code before he woke up.

“...Maybe it’s a setting for the creator. I can only assume things for now so I’m guessing with ‘Rag’ is ‘to rag’ so criticising meant and ‘doll’ refers to me. Could be a button that show’s them my and the game’s code and highlighting any glitches to correct them... Why you chose 'to rag' for that is a mystery to me.”

Since this option is of no interest to him, he moves to the other options the game has. Clicking a random button, a small in-game window pops up. A bunch of miscellaneous things in it, from food items to blankets and potted plants. Making it look like someone just randomly counted harmless things together in a list.

“…...For a game you seem to be oh so proud of it sure looks not properly fleshed out.”

He climbs into the window and inspects the items more closely. The potted plants feel fake and the blankets rougher to the touch than they look. He looks over to the food items, a basic collection of fruits and vegetables. While the Stickfigure doesn’t really feel any hunger as of now, he feels the need to try one of those. Going over he grabs an apple.

Or more like a copy because while he has one in hand the image of the apple is still there in the window.

“So there’s an endless supply of these things in here.”, he muses.

Much like the potted plant it feels fake.

He can’t tell how he knows this, but he knows that an apple shouldn’t feel like this. A mix of plastic and wax. Certainly an unpleasant feeling, yet he still wants to see what happens if he tries to eat it and brought it to his mouth.

But before it was even close enough for him to actually bite into it, it vanished into thin air.

He blinks,“….What?”, and took another one.

The same thing happens.

“…..You put in the least amount of work into these and you couldn’t even code them to be actually eaten. Instead they vanish to make it look like I “ate” them. Ridiculous.”

He turns away from the items and steps out of the little window. Now that that discovery had been made he wanted to move on. He saw earlier that this window seems to have two different tabs shown at the top.

Looking up at it he thought on how to reach it. Figuring since the window is not all that tall, he could grab the edge when he jumps up.

Doing just that, the Stickfigure takes a few steps to gain more momentum. Running to the window and jumping up in front of it. He manages to hold onto a corner and swings forward to reach the other tab. Once he saw it highlighting he let go of the corner and fell to his feet with a hard thud.

Not seeing what’s in this tab until he turns around and immediately taking a small step back.

Unlike the other tab that looks randomized in order, this one has a clear structure and with one look alone the Stickfigure could tell that in these items was way more work put into.

With wide eyes, he stares at an array of different weapons of all kinds and sizes. And with a slight, but cold, shiver down his spine he suddenly knew what kind of game he was made for. He knew why it was so upsetting for his creator that he came to life. He knew why it had to be proven that he was lifeless until now.

Player can test all sorts of weapons on him however they please.

Doing with him whatever they please.

“….you…..sick…..Bastard…”

Very slowly he approaches one and ran his hand over it without taking the weapon out if the window. The difference between this and the items in the other window was like day and night. While the more harmless things felt fake and rushed, the weapons felt real. Too real for his liking.

The Stickfigure withdraws his hand and takes a few steps back and glances up at the little x on the far corner of the window. Not trying to gain a lot of momentum this time, he jumps and hits the x button. Closing the window.

Now he stood there, the information he just received running through his mind. Not really noticing that he has stumbled to the wall of the game until he slid down into a sitting position. But he didn’t care. He had to think for now.

He has to stomach what he just learned first.

Some time went by with the game not being opened once. At least the Stickfigure inside it thinks it must’ve been some time. Hard to tell when everything was only in a dim light and not a single clock in sight.

The Stickfigure couldn't tell how Long He has been sitting there. Could've been minutes or it could've been hours.

All he knows is that after he finally starts to calm down his body calls for rest. Coming to life and talking with his creator drained him more than he thought at first. He didn't move from where he was. Even when his body grew lax and his eyes heavy.

Tired of sitting, the Stickfigure moves to lay down on his side. Eyes already drooping when he curls up and one last, single thought before darkness took hold of him.

'....why?...'

When he woke up again, everything was still the same. The dimmed surroundings of the game's Interface, the dark nothingness where the windows to the outside would be and him being alone.

He stayed on the ground for a while and thinking. Thinking that this is his life now that he just started.

Eventually getting up, he decided to explore the game a bit more. Not backing away from the weapons this time.

The days were always the same and the Stickfigure thought they would stay the same, but someone had something else planned.

One day the Stickfigure woke up rather abruptly. Squinting his eyes shut at the bright light.

'Wait…it's bright!'

At the realisation, he opens his eyes again and was met with a clear view out of the game. He could see parts of the desktop and apps, but much better can he see his creator.

Looking just as frustrated and angry as the last time he saw them. Though it doesn't seem that they are looking at him, rather at something else. Something out of sight of the Stickfigure.

He stared at them and waited. Waiting for the creator to talk to him, cause that's what he assumed was the reason for them to open the game.

But nothing happened.

The chat didn't open and they didn't type a Message. Didn't even look at him.

The Stickfigure becomes frustrated himself. First that person had been so upset about him coming to life and having to take the game down and now they don't even have the decency to talk with him when they finally opened the game again.

He scoffs, "And? Any news?"

The chat popped up on it's own after the Stickfigure had talked. With those words being the first message.

The creator glances at him before sending a glare. At least he has their attention now.

"What? You closed the game and let me sit in there for who knows how long and when you open it again you don't even talk to me?"

They move to properly look at the Stickfigure. Face not changing it's expression.

"Oh now i have your full attention. Do you at least have a plan about what's going to happen now?"

He doesn't see the Cursor moving or to where it goes.

"Because I'm not going to sit in this game and waste awa-"

He got cut off by suddenly not being able to move. As If literally frozen in place.

While the Stickfigure was talking, the creator had moved to the settings menu and clicked a button. He could still see the creator's face and stares with wide eyes.

Upon seeing that it still works, the creator smirks. Sending a cold shiver down the Stickfigure's spine.

[Would you look at that. Ragdoll Mode still works even with you alive.]

There was no real need for them to send that in the chat and the Stickfigure knows that.

He knows they said that to taunt him.

".....what….are you….going to do?"

[I'm honestly still quite angry that you jeopardized my game and forced me to take it down, as well as things that don't have anything to do with you happening. So since you're asking for Attention, how about we play and i let out some steam.]

The Stickfigure was about to ask what that means , when he saw a window being opened from the corner of his eyes. 

"W-wait! What are you-"

But he didn't get to finish his question as something was brought down on him. Something sharp and cold. Making the Stickfigure scream in pain. That scream got .ade visible in the chat as a column of A's in one message.

Faintly he can see the creator's reaction, looking like they're laughing. Laughing at the chat detecting the scream as a Message to be sent to the other. Almost mockingly.

Over and over the weapon was brought down on the Stickfigure and he kept screaming in response. A couple of times he was able to see the blade after it cut into him, but only glimpses.

Yet it was enough for him to see that it's blade is jagged as if it has teeth like a saw but bigger.

No wonder it hurts so much.

And the Stickfigure couldn't do anything about it. The Ragdoll Mode keeping him stuck in place, unable to move.

The only movements coming from him were dangles when the attack build enough momentum to move him around. Just not away from where he's hanging right now.

Once the creator had let their anger out, they simply closed the game without a word. Causing the Stickfigure to fall to the ground. Crying out at the impact and instinctively curling up.

Bringing a hand to his chest he feels something wet flowing out.

".....wh-what?...."

Taking a closer look at his hand he saw some liquid on it. Looking a dark and muddy orange colour. It starts to fade into nothing while he was still looking. Vanishing completely after some moments. Whatever it is, it's coming out of him and seemingly disappears upon contact with Air.

The Stickfigure didn't notice that his arm had started to tremble from being held up until it sank a bit to the ground. He let it fall completely to the floor where he stayed himself. Catching his breath and feeling the pounding pain in his torso. Eventually feeling how that vanishes too.

When his eyes grew heavy again, he embraced the dark nothingness with open arms.

This went on for a while. Everytime the game got opened it was when the creator had to let out some steam. Sometimes nothing happened for a few minutes before the torture began, other times the Stickfigure froze almost as soon as the game was opened.

In those minutes he occasionally wondered if his creator was tired of using him as an anger-outlet, but the opposite was proven.

At least he learned that once the game was closed, His wounds would heal and vanish on their own. Assuming it was the Game basically resetting his state for the new playing session.

And one day, the Stickfigure had enough. With a spear from the weapon list, he waited for his creator to open the game.

He didn't had to wait long until everything turned brighter and the angry face of the creator appeared in front of him. Wasting no time to talk.

"I've had enough with you! I will not Just sit here and be your punching bag!"

He doesn't notice that He picked the wrong day to fight back. Doesn't see that his creator looks more upset than usual.

"What?! No words? Never thought i'd refuse this treatment? Never thought i'd fight back?"

He sees the cursor move to the settings menu, but before the Ragdoll Mode button could be clicked the Stickfigure hit the cursor away.

"I'm talking to you, you sad pathetic excuse of a Game Developer!"

The creator's eyes formed into a glare as if they're trying to kill the Stickfigure with a single look. Moving the cursor again, but not to the Ragdoll Mode button. No, they moved it to the weapons and grabbed a random one. Throwing it at the Stickfigure, who turns around to parry it. Unfortunately turning his back to the creator in the process.

About to turn around again, the Stickfigure suddenly feels himself freezing up. With a feeling of being doused in ice water he knew what happened.

While he turned to parry the attack, the creator moved the cursor and activated that hated Mode. While his back is turned to them.

And before he could say a single word, pain flared across his back.

The first Slash of many.

The first Scream of agony.

Black dots dance before the Stickfigure's eyes when the repeated attacks stop and he can breathe. Not knowing that he was only granted to catch his breath because the creator coded the chat to be in the game's background. So that the Stickfigure can see.

[You really think you could fight against me? I think you're forgetting something so let me help you remember.

I own you. I created you and i can do with you whatever i want!]

[You think you're so tough. Standing up against me with a weapon from my own game. We'll see what's left of that Attitude after i'm done with you and let you hang for a while.]

[And you'd do yourself a very big favour to Always remember one Thing.]

[I'm in control.]

After the Last Message was send, the stickfigure saw the weapon being picked up again and-

King woke up with a start, ripping his eyes open and bolting up.

Sitting there and breathing heavily while looking around. He's in his room inside the fortress. His cold sweat might as well be streaming off of his body in the heat of the Nether.

'......Just a dream….'

Taking a deep breath, King tries to calm himself. He's not in his Game anymore, he's not in their computer anymore. He's in his fortress, in his room.

As he tells himself that he glances around more. Eyes falling on the golden crown placed on a chest on the wall.

Heaving a heavy sigh he moves from the wool blocks He calls a bed and slowly drags himself to it. Taking it in hand while the other rests on the edge of the chest, supporting his upper weight.

Tired eyes look back at him from the crowns reflection as he stood there staring at it.

"....I'm in Control……right?..."

[thefirstknife]

I've wanted to make a post about this for some time but I find it difficult to word it properly. But here it goes.

I've noticed quite a lot of hostility and just plain wrong takes about Osiris, especially since it's been confirmed he and Saint are in a relationship. Of course, there's the classic dudebro homophobic rage but I'm not talking about that.

I'm talking about the very frequent and persistent attempts to sideline and erase Osiris from this relationship. Sometimes it's jokes and memes, which I don't mind, but they muddy the water after a while.

I'm talking about memes like "Osiris if you don't go to your husband, I'm going to take him away from you!!!" and the variations of that. As I said, memes are fine and I support them, but at some point these memes become very aggressive and honestly quite upsetting to look at all the time. It becomes an active attempt to sideline and erase Osiris from his own canon relationship which isn't helping anyone and can actually be harmful to mlm who see o14 as their representation.

But there's a worse trend. The trend of calling their relationship abusive because they tend to have arguments sometimes (most recently seen in new Trials ship/shell/sparrow lore). First of all, people took that out of context. The three lore pieces tell the same story from three different perspectives for a reason. People overfixated on the most angsty one where we only see the end of the argument. But there's also the beginning and there's also Saint's own thoughts about the situation and he never describes it as abusive in any way.

The second issue is two-fold.

First, it operates under the assumption that a heavily traumatised gay man of colour is abusing his lover because they disagree sometimes. Osiris, the man who broke time and space to get Saint back is apparently abusive, somehow. I know there's a lot of young people on here, but please understand that relationships are not always sunshine and butterflies and that includes LGBT+ people. Sometimes there will be arguments and disagreements. Saint himself says that he does not view their most recent clash as a battle or an argument, but a rebuilding of a relationship that takes time. This is an important message to learn, especially by young people who struggle with trauma and mental illness and discrimination because of their sexuality and/or gender.

Which brings me to the second issue with this line of thinking: it assumes Saint is helpless and possibly too stupid to understand that Osiris is abusing him which cannot be further from the truth. Saint is a capable and emotional man who thrives from empathy towards others and understands when people are going through a difficult time. He is also fully capable of understanding whether or not chasing Osiris is worth it. He can make his own decision about that and he, in his own words, sees Osiris as someone who is worth helping without expecting anything in return because that's what you do for the people you love.

So we have constant villifying of one of them and entirely infantilising the other. This take is objectively wrong and also harmful for people in the fandom who want to interact with this content, especially mlm.

And finally, they're being written by an openly bisexual man who spoke about his own struggles with sexuality and knows how important representation is. It's highly disrespectful to look at this writing and call it abusive.

I know that Saint is wholesome and popular and a lot of people have their own HCs and ships, but you can modify canon without being nasty towards Osiris to the point where I see some takes and I have to genuinely wonder if I'm looking at homophobic and racist undertones.

Destiny lore is all over the place and confusing and it's totally expected to miss some information that would otherwise completely clear things up so I'd implore y'all to first look into it with a bit more nuance and understanding before making blanket statements about a canon gay relationship being abusive.

It's also highly disrespectful to actual abuse victims and actually does the opposite of help when things are mislabelled as abuse. It makes it harder to recognise and identify real abuse while also giving people a false idea of what a normal relationship is like, leading to a lot of people having a completely warped idea about relationships (especially LGBT+ ones). Arguments, disagreements and falling out can happen to anyone. The widespread trend about LGBT+ relationships being pure and flawless and unproblematic is a very dangerous idea to believe in. We have to see these relationships being difficult and nuanced sometimes without immediately jumping to the conclusion that: if it's not perfect then it's abuse.

Thanks for taking the time to read through this.

[rantingcrocodile]

And also, why is it okay to applaud and pressure bi women to be doormat servants for others when they allegedly realize how misogynistic it is to demand that of women? 🤔 Bi women need to start peaking faster lol.

The truth about biphobia only seems stupid or ridiculous when you look at tiny parts of it in a vacuum. As soon as you take time, stand back and then actually think about the full picture, it makes exactly as much sense as discussing general patriarchy and misogyny, and the peaking felt exactly the same to me.

Like a radblr favourite: "Bisexual women in opposite-sex relationships have heterosexual privilege!"

Okay, but when we know that bisexual women face the greatest risk of domestic abuse over other women, what does that actually mean? It means that for some reason, bisexual women are specifically being targeted, which is unlike heterosexual women. Therefore, there is something about being bisexual that makes bisexual women those specific targets. That isn't the heterosexual privilege that straight women have.

The truth is that people in opposite-sex relationships are going to be viewed as heterosexual by strangers, whereas people in same-sex relationships are going to be viewed as homosexual by strangers.

That is the only "privilege" that some bisexuals in very specific circumstances are going to experience.

(We can recognise that, but apparently it's "lesbophobic" and "hateful" to say that lesbians have the "privilege" of not being erased and accused of being their own oppressors and that homosexuality is part of the "straight vs gay" dichotomy that excludes bisexuals as standard.)

Where are bisexuals in that? Erased. Being erased and having "straight" or "gay" stamped on your forehead by others is mentally damaging and adds to minority stress. We're locked out of conversations about ourselves by heterosexist design, and we have absolutely no language for ourselves to accurately explain ourselves to others - and even to each other. (In that context, is it such a surprise that there are bisexuals who cling to the word "queer" to try and feel some kind of inclusion?)

Others scoff that biphobic erasure is somehow just "hurt feelings" and dismissed as bisexuals "wanting attention" or "wanting to feel oppressed," but again, big picture.

When bisexuals are erased, when we don't have access to language to explain our experiences, then how can we ever have actual support for our bisexuality? How can bisexuals come to terms with their full bisexuality if we're shoved into the "straight" or "gay" boxes and not allowed any space ever to be respected as our full, true selves?

Biphobic erasure ties back into the abuse we face, too. How can bisexual women be actually supported for the biphobic abuse and rape and sexual assault that happened because we're bisexual at the hands of male partners if all opposite-sex relationship abuse is catered to heterosexual women that haven't had that same targeting?

How can bisexual women be supported for biphobic abuse in same-sex relationships?

Where's the support for Bi4Bi relationships that are either opposite-sex or same-sex attracted, when others find out that they're bisexual and then sexually harass, intimidate and go out of their way to try and destroy those relationships because they hate bisexuals and don't believe our relationships are real, or that we're always consenting?

Look at same-sex relationships. A lesbian couple is a pornified fantasy for men, where men will want to "turn them straight" and see them as a challenge. A couple consisting of two bisexual women are a different pornified fantasy for men, but men don't see the bisexual women as a "challenge to overcome," but already as two women without any need to consent, that those men already feel automatically entitled to.

In that, there's no "winner" between whether the same-sex couple are lesbians or bisexual women - it's just oppression from heterosexuals manifested in different ways and all of those ways are evil.

This genuinely reminds me of all those discussions about how feminism is stalling because women constantly have to prove that actual women exists and that sex-based oppression is real, so there's no energy left to discuss anything else.

The few bisexuals who have properly peaked - myself included - are stuck in that same trap. All that we are constantly doing is repeating that bisexuality is real, not just "half-straight-half-gay," and that biphobia is real.

Then, we're gaslighted and told that we're just "whining about lesbians" instead of focusing on "real problems."

This is part of the real problem! We can't move forward until we have the basics of bisexuality and biphobia recognised as real! We can't talk about biphobic domestic abuse if bisexuality isn't properly understood and it known that biphobia is real! We can't talk about the very specific intersections of biphobia and race/ethnicity/disability/etc without understanding what bisexuality is and that biphobia is recognised as real!

But we're forced back to the "please believe us about our sexuality and oppression" over and over again into this vicious cycle.

Because biphobia is so widespread.

Because others hate us that much.

So the sooner that other bisexuals start peaking and saying "enough is enough," the better.

[acapelladitty]

Mouth: Part Ten (nsfw)

Pairing: Heisenberg/Female Reader

Warnings: punishment, spanking, rough sex, dirty talk, cockwarming, come marking.

A bored mind makes stupid decisions and your decision to wind up the Lord of the factory as he worked on a fresh project within his main invention room fell into that category. Idle hands were most definitely the devil’s plaything and your devil of choice was pointedly ignoring you.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask, standing behind the metal chair which he preferred to work from as you whisper the question into his ear, ensuring that you are as close as possible without physically touching him. He’d been locked in this room for hours and it was about time for some distraction.

“No.”

“Would you like me to hold something for you?”

“No,” he repeated, twisting his head away from your lips as he focused on his task, “now fuck off, please.”

Unwilling to budge, you ignore his pointed tone.

“How about I make us something to eat?” You purr, moving forward so that you are kneeling to his side, keeping out of the direct path of his gaze, which was focused on the metal floating above his workbench, “A late night snack. Something,” you pause, “delicious.”

“Not right now.”

His voice was firm as his attention refused to leave the pieces of metal before his eyes as they bent into unnatural shapes at his whim. The metal looked red-hot in some areas as it was folded into various positions, slotting together before coming apart in rapid succession.

“Come on, my Lord,” the words are little more than a whine as you stand again and run a hand along the firm muscle of his thigh, “your subject requires your attention for a little while. It’s been so long since you’ve serviced her.”

As your finger moves to brush lightly against his crotch, a high-pitched squeal from the intricately woven floating cogs were the only indication that something had went wrong, even as a loud “Ah, fuck!” escaped his throat.

At his exclamation, the metal gears before him seemed to contract for a moment before exploding in place and, as you ducked away from the grating noise and bright light, a sharp pain registered against your hip as you recognised his open palm shoving at your body to remove you from the danger zone.

His impressive strength matched with his momentary panic proved too much for your body and you found yourself being thrown to the floor, your ass colliding against the hard stone making you release a loud grunt of pain as he stood up from his work seat.

Surveying the residual mess of his work, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth as he stomped his foot in open frustration. His coat flared behind him with the movement and you watch the fabric settle as his hands slam into his hips.

“A whole day of work, up in fucking smoke!”

Oops.

“All because of you and your goddamn hole!”

Ah, shit.

There was a genuine anger in his expression as he turned and approached your fallen body, the harshness of his gaze causing your heart to stutter for a moment as you froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. The smart thing would be to give him some space and scarper away but as his presence loomed over you, you knew that escaping was out of the question.

“Would it help if I said sorr-”

Your words were cut off in a sharp gasp as he moved quickly to scoop you up from the floor and hold you to his side with one arm as he moved back towards his work seat.

Dropping into his makeshift throne, he pins you to the floor between his thighs and your knees crash off the hard flooring uncomfortably as you gaze up at him. His eyes are covered by his glasses but you can sense the anger behind them and you attempt to look as apologetic as possible, hoping to avoid his wrath.

“I said I was sor-”

“No, shut the fuck up.” He cut you off once again, his hand coming to cover your mouth to prevent any further speech, “You’ve done it now, kitten. A whole day of wasted time and resources all because you wanted to play.” His tone was curt, irritation barely restrained, and it causes a fresh spark of anxiety within you, “Well, you have my attention now and I hope you’re happy with what you’ve earned.”

His fingers are warm against your mouth, and you slip your tongue out as much as possible to flick at them playfully. The damage was done but you knew how to appease him, and you shuffle your head forward and tilt your head towards his groin in a show of penance. He was not a man to deny himself a free blowjob and you were certain that would take the heat out of him for the moment.

“Nice try,” he growled, pulling at your hair to force your head back away from his crotch, “but that’s not going to work, buttercup. You have ruined my plans and no amount of head is going to get you out of this punishment.”

“Let’s see,” he hummed, one hand wrapped around your hair while the other traced soft lines across your exposed throat, “I’ve been in here since 6pm and it’s now midnight. That’s six hours. I will also need to source three new gears for this manipulation so let’s make that the multiplier.” His expression is thoughtful as he considers the math, “Brings us to eighteen so let’s round it to a solid twenty. Twenty strikes as a fair punishment”

Unable to speak, you allow your eyes to widen in recognition at his words.

“Think you can handle twenty strikes? Shall we find out?”

It has been a while since he’d reddened your skin in such a way and there were alternative punishments which you enjoyed much less so you nod your consent, the small movement making the burn in your scalp worse.

“Would the little slut like the switch or the palm?” He asked, releasing your mouth to allow you to answer. The switch, a thin metal bar he could fashion at a moment’s notice was much more painful than his hand and the fact that he was even giving you the option was a good sign, “Or should I choose for her?” He continued.

“The palm, my Lord.” You answer, eyes downcast in a show of penance as you throw in his title to sweeten the deal and play your role, “Your hand should be my punishment.”

“Good choice.” He grunted and you inhale in surprise as his hands grip your upper arms in a tight grasp so that he can lift you from your knees and place you over his knees.

Your stomach lay against his firm thighs as your feet plant themselves on the ground, giving yourself some purchase as he runs his hands up your bare legs. A shudder trails down your spine at the softness of his touch, knowing what it was a prelude to, and you press your thighs together as his commanding voice booms out from above you.

“Place your hands on the legs of the chair and if you let go I’ll double your punishment.”

You follow his command, wrapping your palms around the thick metal of the chair legs and you can feel the blood rushing to your ears as your head remains upside down. Your breasts hung free just past the edge of his thighs but they remain covered by the shirt which still clung to your upper half as you settled yourself as comfortably as you could against him.

The warm air of the room hit your exposed lower half as your skirt was pulled up over your ass. His hand felt huge against your skin as he immediately palmed your ass roughly through your panties, calloused fingers running along the globe of your ass to admire it before the real fun began. A soft whoosh of movement caught your attention and you tilt you head in time to see his hand grasp around the hilt of his knife and a thrill of nervous anticipation rockets through you.

Before you can question its use, you feel the dull edge of the blade against your hip as the sharp edge sliced through the thin fabric of your panties before moving to the other side to repeat the process. With a flourish, he drops the knife to the floor and rips your underwear from you, the aggressive pull leaving a warmth in its wake as it dragged across your trapped skin.

Now fully exposed, you can do little but keep your hands clasped around the legs of his metal throne as you await his next move.

“Count for me.” He demands, his voice rough with undeniable lust as he adjusts his knees to bear your weight comfortably, “And if you fuck up the count then I start over. Understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The slight whisper of air as his hand draws through the air is the only indication you have that he’s started as he targets the exposed curve of your ass.

SMACK.

A grunt escapes you at the impact; it was painful but not unbearable as he was obviously trying to gauge holding back his impressive strength since a full-power hit would probably do some irreparable damage. Regardless, you hold your position steadily as your fingers remain clasped around the metal chair.

“One.”

SMACK.

Stronger than the first, the blow takes the breath from you as you jerk in place. Positioned in the same spot as the first, you can already feel the growing heat from your ass as the second smack only adds a fresh sting to the underlying discomfort.

“Two.”

“Good girl.” He grunts, pausing in his blows to run the tips of his fingers along your slit and you’re ashamed at the slickness there after only two smacks but your soft sigh turns into a quick inhalation as he swats at your cunt roughly, encouraging you to spread your thighs, “Are you ready to scream for me, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before his hand once again connects harshly with your ass, the heat there barely dulling before it was inflamed again and, even as the blow pulls a pained gasp from your lips, you push your ass out to meet him, encouraging him.

“Three.”

Building into a steady rhythm, he continues to decorate your ass with patches of red as his hand abuses the flesh there. Groans and sharp squeals are all you can manage between counted numbers as the pain grew more apparent with every hit; the flesh growing more irritated as it continued to be assaulted without pause.

Continuing your count as each new smack sent fresh waves of heat across your ass, you let out a high squeal of surprise as he angles his hand downwards for one hit, the tips of his fingers catching the edge of your cunt as you stiffen in place.

“Thirteen!”

The pain in your flesh, the sting and heat which only grew with every hit, was intense but with it came an undeniable pleasure which coated your thighs with your own juices and made your core ache for stimulation. Every harsh-sounding slap was intercut with your own sharp yelps and needy whines as he alternated random strikes by pausing to grope roughly at your stinging flesh, kneading it between savage fingers to test the sensitivity.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your side as you remain in your prone position. Soft grunts escaped his own throat with every blow and were occasionally punctuated by soft mutterings which were too low to be picked up.

One particularly harsh blow catches you across the globes of your ass and fresh tears spring into your eyes as you give a pained yelp. The pain overshadowed the pleasure as the unyielding sting of your flesh and infernal heat seemed to spread across your body, making your limbs tight and your fingers claw against the metal of the chair leg.

“Nineteen.”

“One more, kitten.” He informed you, his hand coming to rest atop the back of your head as he pulled your head back, surveying the pained look in your expression.

SMACK.

Squeezing your eyes closed as his hand once again struck the searing skin of your ass, which you could guess was a stunning shade of red given the heat you could feel, you cry out the final number.

“Twenty!”

Having served your punishment, his hands are quick to wrap around your waist and pluck you from his lap as he deposited you in your earlier position between his thighs. Your heels dug in painfully to the heated flesh of your ass and you whine at the rough contact as he takes your face within his hands; the heat from his left hand, the hand used to punish you, clear against your cheek.

“Well done,” he drawled, and you can see that most of his anger has dissipated, replaced with a strange mixture of pride and obvious lust, “but we’re not over just yet.”

His hands are quick to unzip his fly as he pulls free his cock, the length looking painfully hard as it juts free of his opened slacks, and he pauses to give it a leisurely stroke.

Releasing himself, he secures his hands around your upper arms and pulls you up into his lap so that the length of his cock is resting against the cleft of your core as he wraps an arm around your waist. The pressure of his groin against your abused ass is uncomfortable but bearable as you lean forward slightly to take the pressure off.

“I’m going to fuck you, kitten,” his voice is rough and low, “and I’m going to do it right here in my work chair. This is the second part of your punishment.”

Not quite seeing the negative here, you nod demurely just to play into his game.

“Of course, my Lord.”

His hand slips into the space between you as he cups your mound.

“Tell me what hole you want me to use,” he growls in your ear as two of his fingers glide across your slit before sinking knuckle-deep within you, “and I’m not going easy so make sure you choose wisely and tell me why. You need to earn your forgiveness and I want to make sure you feel it.”

“My cunt,” you gasp out your choice, pressing down on his fingers as they probe you roughly, your body delighted at finally receiving some stimulation, “your thick cock forces me to stretch around it and it hurts.”

Only partially true but you know it’s what he wants to hear.

He removes his fingers and uses his hand to brush his cock against your slit, wetting his tip with your juices as he prepares to enter you and a shiver runs down your spine with anticipation.

You don’t have long to wait as he impales himself within you with an animalistic grunt; the unexpected fullness and force of his insertion as he buries himself fully drawing a low scream of pained pleasure from your lips.

Making no effort to move just yet, his free hand comes to clutch at the fabric of your shirt, tearing the buttons there with one swift movement and exposing your chest to his leering gaze as he pushes the torn fabric to the side.

Capturing your nipple between his teeth, the worries the sensitive nub there for a moment and the sensation is so intense that your fingers snake through his grey hair and pull at it almost desperately. A move which earns you a low growl as he repeats the move with your other nipple, clearing enjoying the sensation of being sheathed within you as he torments your chest.

He begins to move within you, using his strength to pull you free of him until only the tip of his cock remains inside before plunging within you once again. It’s pleasure and pain rolled into one as the stretch mixes with the wonderful sensations of his cock brushing your most sensitive spots and you whine out your anguish.

Writhing against him, the pressure of his thrusts is almost too much as it feels like he is trying to split you in half with his cock. Every nerve within you is firing off and your legs hang limply to the sides of the chair, toes curling with every powerful stroke, as you allow yourself to be used. His hands on your hips prevent you from moving too much but you push back against him as much as possible, movements frantic as the burn in your ass only adds to the growing pleasure alighting across your body.

Rough growls are the only noises coming from him and they mingle with the whines and moans which you can’t prevent from escaping your own throat. Particularly when he resumes his assault on your chest, his stubble rubbing against your breasts as he nips savagely at the sensitive flesh there with sharp teeth, his cock never slowing in its brutal pace.

Your orgasm almost catches you off-guard as one of his fingers come to rest against your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves there with an almost cruel pressure. Combined with the delightful stretch of your core plus the torment of your chest, it was too much and your vision seemed to white out for a moment as the band of arousal snapped; your hips snapping against his groin as your fingers clawed desperately at the leather of his coat which covered his back.

“I love it when you buck against me, kitten.” He snarled against your neck as he continued to thrust within you, chasing his own pleasure with little regard for how overstimulated it left you, “So wet and warm, and so fucking tight just for me.”

A garbled sequence of agreements is all you can manage as your body spasmed against his, his cock continuing to draw out your pleasure far beyond what it had to as the waves of ecstasy seemed unending. But even through your euphoria, you can feel the tell-tale jerking of his cock as it seemed to twitch within your walls and you knew he was close.

Just at the point of no return, he pulled his cock free of your core and the sudden emptiness drew a mournful wail from your lips as he instead drew his hand across his cock frantically. It took less than a moment before his orgasm hit, his release arcing high between you as it splattered across your exposed stomach and chest; one drop catching you just above your right nipple as he released a low, guttural groan at the sight.

Your legs were still twitching from the aftershocks and the burn in your ass seemed more intense than before, obviously disturbed by your writhing against his groin, as you fought to catch your breath.

A gasp stole your breath as you felt his fingers against your core once again but before you could question him, you felt him slip within you once again, his cock still hard but having wilted slightly due to his release.

At your questioning glance, he spoke.

“You’re going to wear those trophies until I say otherwise,” he growled as he indicated the mess of his release, spattered across your chest, “and if you touch them I’ll bind your hands to this chair until I am finished.”

“Finished?” You ask, not quite understanding his intent. His cock was welcome within you and you couldn’t help but clench around it as you once again enjoyed the fullness.

“I need to work,” his grunt was low and, with a flick of his hand, a handful of scrap rose from behind his chair and moved towards his workbench, “and since you can’t be trusted to not interrupt then you can stay here. Exactly where I can see and feel you.”

Thinking of your earlier boredom, you can see the appeal in his command and you nod your consent.

“Think of it as serving your Lord by keeping his cock nice and warm while he works.”

Leaning forward, you lay your head against the wide expanse of his shoulder as you settle against his body. Your body feels wonderfully used and abused and this position allows you to take the pressure off you ass while also providing a very comfortable resting place. His cock within you doesn’t move and you don’t imagine it’ll be too long before he gives in to the temptation of another round.

“Sounds good to me.”

He chuckles at the enthusiasm and settles into his task.

His attention is focused beyond you, on the metal which he manipulates with unmatched skill, but with every slight jostle of your bodies you can feel the fullness of his cock as it remains sheathed within you. His punishment had been fair and you knew that the sight of your reddened flesh would inspire him to lust for days until it healed up.

He loved leaving his little marks on you, be it with his hands, teeth, or even his cum. It was a sign of ownership that you allowed; just as he allowed you to claw your ownership into his back or bite it into the flesh of his chest and thighs. It was important that you gave as good as you got as neither of you could stand weakness.

Your thoughts were broken as a soft humming emitted from his chest, some unknown tune which you couldn’t place, and you sighed against him, settling in to the rare moment of pure intimacy.

Full fic available on AO3 @ DittyWrites

[alectology-archive]

I think I’ve realized why I consider some enemies-to-lovers abusive and others not: dehumanization. When enemies stop respecting and treating each other as human beings and simply use one of another as a means to an end, as nothing but a tool for this own wants and goals, then I consider it abusive. I personally think there are 3 main kinds of dehumanization in enemies to lovers: molestation/sexual assault, torture, and enslavement; 1/2

2/2 because in all of those you treat your enemy more like a tool for your own advancement than another person. Reylo, Feysand, and Darklina all fall into at least one of those three “dehumanization” categories, so I consider them abusive. But Catradora and Zutara do not, so neither of those enemies-to-lovers ships is abusive.

Yeah I do think this works as a very, very basic guideline because saying that a person shouldn't abuse/enslave/torture another person in a relationship is kind of the most basic standard to set. But I'm pretty sure you'll still find outliers, (partly because it's such a low bar to clear) so I'm not entirely confident that it's easy enough to come up with a definition that works for everything. Communication and devoting enough time for a progression from the enemies to lovers part is also often lacking and i'm especially frustrated when the pairs don't treat each other like they love each other for the sake of stupid banter or 'extra tension'. There's also a tendency amongst people to fit everything into boxes so the idea that there are two kinds of executions and moralities as opposed to a spectrum - both in terms of execution and morality - can be very restricting.

Relationships also tend to be very conplex! For all standards and purposes villanelle/eve polastri and will graham/ hannibal aren't exactly what you'd call a healthy relationship and that is part of the tragedy of the story & it's a part of eve and will's 'corruption arc'. So I really think how you're framing the narrative in the story and the kind of themes you want to explore matter a lot too. The audience that is consuming the material (young, easily influenced kids) is also another really important factor and I think people seem to forget that.

I specifically hate feysand because acotar was marketed towards kids and sjm excused his abuse and sexual assault because his trauma and sacrifices apparently excuse his wrong actions. He's framed as Feyre's 'true love' which is just wrong in every sense of the word and especially so in the context of how feyre comes from a background that is loosely abusive and was involved in an abusive relationship (with tamlin) only for another abusive relationship to be framed as good and proper. I hate darklina because the people who ship it use alina as a self-insert and go on to ignore all of the horrific acts he commits and the multiple women he abuses. The narrative specifically says that the darkling was only interested in alina's power and not alina herself (you'll notice this is a pattern with the darkling - he takes advantage of multiple women and discards them when he has no uses for them).

Catradora is about learning to recognise parental abuse and understanding that you deserve love so their relationship works! Zutara works too because zuko admits his errors in the context of the story and really grows to respect katara (as opposed to kylo ron falling for rey and still being a piece of shit... lol).

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 36

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: KC belongs to @kc-and-co and David Willows belongs to @that-scouse-wizard (both in mention)

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell @thatravenpuffwitch @anthamariemayfair

I need an easy friend

I do, with an ear to lend

I do think you fit this shoe

I do, but you have a clue

~ Nirvana - About A Girl ~

When the driver of their bus pulled into a service station, Lizzie practically jumped off the bus before her emotions would get the better of her.

She managed to keep herself together until she had reached the bathrooms of the service station and vanished into one of the cubicles. The door had barely shut behind her when she couldn’t stop the tears from coming anymore.

All the strain and frustration of the last few weeks, all the times she had missed Orion’s laugh, his smile and touch were coming down on her all at once. The sobs were shaking her body and she hugged herself, leaning against the door in her back, not caring who might hear her.

Orion’s words were running through her mind on repeat, and each time it felt like a knife was being twisted in her heart.

His words had been so cold, so much disregard in his voice; Lizzie knew he was angry and pressured, but she didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Maybe whatever they’d had had ended, but it had been him who had decided to go. Both of them had made mistakes, not only she. So how was she to blame for everything?

Lizzie wiped the tears off her cheek, leaving dark trails of mascara on the back of her hand, but they were immediately replaced by new ones. They were streaming down her face, gathering at her chin and dropping to the ground.

She didn’t know what to do anymore to resolve the issue; she had tried every single thing she could think of but apparently, all she’d managed to do was make things worse.

There seemed to be no end to her tears,no matter how hard she was trying; Lizzie couldn’t say when she had stopped crying over her fight with Orion and had started crying for the sake of it. The constant tension had been eating away at her, and it felt good letting everything out for a change.

A sudden rap on the door of her cubicle made her jump.

“Hello? Everything okay in there?”

Lizzie recognised the voice immediately; it was Artemis calling to her from the other side of the door.

Crying had felt good, but now Lizzie felt stupid for not thinking ahead. Of course someone from their crew would have to come in here sooner rather than later and hear her sobbing her heart out; just what she needed right now.

Straightening up, Lizzie wiped her face one last time. Bracing her shoulders, she stepped away from the door and unlocked it.

It was obvious Artemis was surprised to see her.

“Oh,” she said, “it’s you.”

“Sorry for the disappointment,” Lizzie mumbled and pushed past her on her way to the sinks.

She didn’t even need a mirror to know she was looking like a mess. She held her hands under the cold water coming from the tap, first splashing a little of it into her face, then rubbing some more onto her neck; the cold made her shiver, but also brought her back to her senses.

Lizzie must have cut quite the pathetic figure, because after a moment’s hesitation, Artemis followed her.

“Are you okay?” she asked apprehensively.

Lizzie took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it.”

Lizzie shot her a glance. “What do you even care? It’s not as if you like me.”

Artemis pressed her lips together and looked away. She seemed to be thinking about leaving, but instead she pulled the bag she was carrying to the front, rummaging around in it for a second, before producing a worn looking tube of mascara, which she held out to Lizzie.

“I’m not a total dickhead, you know,” she said quietly, “I’m not really used to people wanting to be my friend.”

“Shame though,” Lizzie said, the smallest of smiles on her lips as she took the mascara from Artemis.

“And besides,” Artemis continued with a raised eyebrow, indicating Lizzie’s tearstained reflection in the mirror, “Andre would never forgive me if I let one of his precious rockstars walk out of here looking like shit.”

Despite herself, Lizzie had to giggle at that. “He’d throw a proper fit.”

“That he would.”

As surprising as it was, quipping with Artemis was a very welcome change to her dark mood. Lizzie had wiped away the traces of makeup on her face and started re-applying it with the mascara Artemis had given her; it wasn’t her favourite brand by a long shot, but it certainly did a good enough job to make her feel better.

She opened her ponytail, combing her hair out with her fingers before tying it back up again. Giving herself a critical look in the mirror, Lizzie deemed herself presentable enough; but the thought of getting back to their tour bus, where Orion would be as well, made her hesitate. The thought of him made the tiny smile on her face disappear again.

“Men are shit, aren’t they,” Artemis said quietly.

“You have no idea,” Lizzie sighed from the bottom of her heart. Much to her horror, she felt the tears welling up in her eyes again.

“You don’t happen to know where Charlie is,” she sniffed, trying to keep her composure. She needed to talk to someone about this or she would explode.

Charlie wasn’t exactly her first choice in this particular matter, but Skye wasn’t known for giving good advice; there was still KC, but she was close with Orion, and Lizzie didn’t want to put her into a conflict of interest.

“We were having lunch outside, he was trying to call his girlfriend when I left,” Artemis said slowly.

“Never mind then. Go back to your lunch, I’ll be fine.”

Despite her best efforts, Lizzie felt the first tear rolling down her cheek again. Whatever had become of her? She was sick of crying already but found she couldn’t stop.

After Artemis had left, it took Lizzie several very deep breaths and another splash of cold water to calm herself down again.

Lizzie wondered what on Earth Artemis must think of her, but realised she actually didn’t care anymore. Artemis was in great company with the people not wanting anything to do with her these days.

When she finally felt composed enough to step out of the bathroom again, she found Charlie waiting for her, leaning on the wall opposite the door. He needed only one look at her face to know what was up; without speaking a word, he opened his arms and with a few quick steps Lizzie walked up to him and let him draw her into a hug.

“Whatever are you doing, little rockstar?” he sighed, and rested his chin on top of her head, when Lizzie started crying again.

“It’s not fair,” she sniffed.

Her face was pressed against his shirt and her voice came out muffled, so she turned her head sideways.

“Everyone’s acting as if all that’s happened is my fault when it’s not. I just want things to go back to how it was, is that too much to ask?”

“You truly want Everett to come back?” Charlie said flatly.

Lizzie knew he was joking to cheer her up, but she didn’t find him particularly funny.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, finally letting go of him. “Jason Everett can go jump in a lake for all I care. I just want the fighting to end. Touring used to be the best thing ever, but right now I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“All of us can agree on that, I think,” Charlie admitted.

He held her at arm's length with a questioning look. “Is that all there is to it?”

Charlie knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. Lizzie’s eyes dropped to the ground and she shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

“He doesn’t even look at me anymore,” she said so quietly Charlie had to lean in slightly. “I don’t know what else to do to make him see I’m sorry.”

“I had a feeling this was about Orion,” Charlie sighed.

“Why won’t he listen to me? I apologised so many times by now, but it never seems to be enough for him,” Lizzie said. “If anything, things are even worse now.”

“See, that’s the thing with us blokes,” Charlie said, “the more you push, the more we draw back.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “But that’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Charlie shrugged, “but it is what it is. You jumping around him like that doesn’t help either.”

His voice softened when he saw how crestfallen Lizzie was. “I know you mean well, but you can’t force him if he doesn’t want to talk to you. You know Orion better than I do, but in this case, trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

Lizzie regarded him sceptically. “What would you do then?”

“He’s obviously trying to get some space, sort himself out. Ethan pestering him about new stuff probably doesn’t help either. So just stop being your tenacious little self and leave him alone for a while, how about that?”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Maybe Charlie had a point; it wasn’t like she had any cards up her sleeve left anyway.

“Why are men so complicated?” she sighed. “All I want to do is talk things out and be done with it. Is that too much to ask?”

“Talking things out with women mostly doesn’t end that well for us,” Charlie said sardonically, earning him a nudge into the ribs.

“Look at you being funny,” Lizzie rolled her eyes at him. “I just hope it’s going to work. I don’t want him to be so angry all the time; that’s not the Orion I know.”

Charlie made a noncommittal sound. “You sure that’s all you want?”

“Of course,” Lizzie said and frowned. “I want us to be friends again, like we’re supposed to be. I am worried about him,” she stressed when Charlie didn’t seem convinced, “nothing more, nothing less.”

“Whatever you say, cupcake,” Charlie shrugged. “Do you know what I think? I think we’ve all had enough moping around for now. There’s a green spot next to the service station, so how about we do a little rugby match with the others, for old time’s sake? We could all make use of letting some energy out.”

“I’m not playing rugby against you, not ever again,” Lizzie snorted. The last time had earned her bruised ribs and a suspected concussion. “But make it football and I’m in. Shotgun on David, though.”

“Fine, I’m taking Erika then,” Charlie grinned.

A smile was spreading on Lizzie’s face as well. It felt weird after crying her eyes out, but in a good way. She was grateful for having someone like Charlie in her life; ever since her actual brother had decided to go and be a Hollywood screenwriter in L.A., Charlie had been the best replacement brother Lizzie ever could have wished for.

On a whim, she stood on her tiptoes and flung her arms around his neck. She could feel his laughter rumbling inside his chest as he hugged her back. “What’s that for, now?”

Lizzie smiled against his neck. “Nothing. Just for being you.”

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Today is the 15th of October, 2020. Today marks the one year anniversary since I started writing on ao3 and while I know this doesn’t mean much to a lot of people, it means the world to me and I need to get my thoughts out.

I started writing when I was in a really bad place. I was lonely and miserable and I was hurting. I lacked community and I was hurting pretty badly, to be honest. But RWBY had my comfort show, I guess, and the bees were my comfort characters, especially Blake, so writing for them became a sort of... therapeutic thing for me.

See, I can recognise a lot of myself in Blake (minus the abuse). The way she first appears cold and distant, the attempt at keeping her distance from people because she’s scared of hurting them/getting hurt? Her “apathetic” masks that eventually gives way to reveal the biggest dork? An introvert that actually enjoys the company of those she cares for but simply has painful lessons to unlearn? Yeah. I could easily relate to her and seeing a character that reminded me of me grow and change and find her people, the people that truly love her and accept her and support her, was comforting to me. I think that I truly needed to see that, y’know?

So... I wrote my first bee fanfic in October of 2019. I was in a dark place mentally. I wasn’t okay. But... I still loved RWBY. I still loved these characters and I got this idea for Blake and Yang that I thought would be really interesting. I remember suggesting it in a ask to Bloodraven55 but it still wouldn’t leave me alone. So... I decided to write it because if no one else was gonna do it, then I was.

That’s when I found my spark. I know it sounds stupid and cheesy and cliche but it’s true. Writing helped cut through the awful brain fog I suffered from and it helped ground me to the present moment. Suddenly, I had something that made me happy. So I wrote some more. And then a little more. And even more. It became apparent that writing helped me with my mental health. It made me happier. So... I kept doing it and here we are.

Hell, I’ve even made some pretty amazing friends here. I’ve learned, much like Blake, that’s it’s okay to be soft and to love. That I’m allowed to. That it’s not something I have to be scared of... granted, I still struggle with expressing and accepting affection but hey! One day at a time.

(As you can probably imagine, seeing Blake, whom I relate to a lot, get a song like Touch the Sky made me very emotional because that song hits hard and is very real for me. It is definitely the most important song to me in the entire RWBY soundtrack across all of the volumes and I tear up every time I hear it before belting that shit despite having a shitty singing voice.)

I still suffer though mental health issues. I still don’t know why I am the way I am. Happiness is an uphill battle for me. It doesn’t come easy. But writing and being a part of this community has helped me grow as a person so much. I’m happier than I was this time last year. More confident and outgoing, even though I still feel unsure and insecure a lot of the time. I still have a long fucking way to go... but I’m far away from the lonely person I used to be.

I know that there are some toxic parts of the FNDM. Hell, even some parts of the Bumbleby fandom can be toxic. I know that some folks call bee shippers toxic. But I’ve seen so much love and support from this community. So much acceptance and kindness. From me coming out as being on the non-binary spectrum, to me discovering that I’m an (sapphic? Women orientated?? I don’t fucking know what to call it??? Women are just really pretty and nice and cute and neat!) orientated aroace. I’m actually starting to tear up as I write this but, um... this community truly does mean a lot to me and I am immensely grateful to be a part of it. It’s nice here, in this little corner of the internet that I’ve found. I think I’ll stay here for as long as I can.

So... uh... in conclusion... thank you. For giving me a place to just be and exist without apology. For giving me an opportunity to find people like me, to form friendships that are truly wonderful. And I guess I just want to say that it does get better. It’s scary and maybe it takes a bit of time but it does get better.

Alright. Yep. That’s it. Don’t know how to sign off from this so... my apologies for the overall sap 😅

[imaginewarehouse]

Yandere!Marcus White x Reader || Drabble

Plot: I’ve been watching Gotham, so, some delicious villainous yandere stuff for fun. 

Warnings: Abduction, toxic/abusive relationship, basic yandere character (He’s kinda chill though, so it isn't really mega level dark? I guess?) 

🔆  🔆  🔆

The bag is ripped off my head, along with a few strands of my hair, and I gulp down my first non-canvasy breathes in hours, looking around the room I’m in. As soon as I recognise the childish basketball themed bed sheets that I’m plopped onto and the blue walls that could only belong to a man-child that hasn't left his mother since the womb though, a deep, annoyed groan escapes my throat and my head falls back against the wall I’m leaning on. The frustration of another failed escape attempt honestly killing me. “Fuckkkkk. Marcus!” 

Why did I even look around? As if the surroundings after being kidnapped would be any different. It never is. Its always this stupid room. God, I hate it. 

“Hold on a moment- finishing this game.” He unsurprisingly responds, from the floor at the foot of the bed where a TV is set up on the floor- not at all fazed at the fact that his abduction victim is awake. 

I wriggle my wrists, trying to free them from the tent rope tying them together. “Whatever. Just hurry up and untie me. I’m getting rope burn.” 

“Mmm,” Marcus makes an unsure sound back, and I can imagine his face right now even though I cant see it, all twisted up at the nose and the mouth. A harbinger of dread, honestly. My heart feels like it plummets in my chest, right down to my feet. Don’t tell me- “Yeahh, I don’t think so. Not this time, babe. One too many escapes. I told you, you try to leave me one more time and you’ll lose Mr Nice Guy.” He makes a clicking sound with his tongue, as I screw my own face up in confusion. ‘Mr Nice Guy’, did he just say? Oh, please- “Well. You lost him.” 

That... doesn't sound good. I mean, no part of this situation with him is good, but this definitely feels like a tipping point. I feel nauseous suddenly. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh!” Suddenly the TV makes an especially loud noise and the sound of the controller clicking gets more vigorous, as apparently Marcus gets to a particularly difficult part of the game- then celebratory music plays and Marcus gets up, and flops on the bed next to you. “Whoo! I won. Beat the game.” He beams at me, like I actually give a flying fuck that he came first in Mario cart at 100cc, like the loser that he is, and I just look back totally deadpanned. 

I blink, trying to totally show him with my expression and my tone how little this matters right now. Or ever. “Like I care?” 

“Don’t be a bitch.” It should say something about me, and about him, that I used to flinch every time this boy called me that, but now I don't even blink. We’ve been doing this thing for over a decade, since high school when Marcus wasn't a total psycho, so nothing about him surprises me much anymore. 

Not that he isn't, unfortunately, full of surprises even so. 

“Don’t be a psycho kidnapper.” I beam back patronisingly. 

“Ahh, stalemate.” He grins, dropping his hand on my thigh... which... twistedly... still has an effect on me. Not that I ever let him know that, but, it definitely does. Sometimes I wonder, honestly, if that’s why I never successfully escape. Not because he or his butt ugly prison friends are master criminals or anything, but because I’m still holding on to an insane secret hope that somewhere in Marcus is the boy who took me to prom and spiked the punch, and turned up to drive me 3 hours home - to this bedroom, actually, - from a disastrous family holiday that made me cry to him for 2 more hours on the phone, and was happy to do so. Because sometimes he still is that guy.

... Because on a subconscious level I let him find me and drag me back here... even though consciously, I know this is 

-wrong. 

   And abusive... 

                and toxic. 

But on the other hand maybe not. Whatever. Moving on. Taking a deep breath to regather myself and glance up at him, eyes flashing angrily. Through my teeth, I hiss. “Let go.” 

Deeply, entirely hard-done-by, Marcus sighs and rolls his eyes, removing his hand. “Whatever.” I sigh, and lean my head back on the wall- tired. Tired of him, tired of this whole awful game. 

But we go on. We live on; We keep playing. Everyone does. That’s life. 

What else can you do? 

Finally, a couple of minutes later, I turn my head to look at him again and wait for him to catch my gaze and turn his own head to face me back. I talk quietly, calmly, tiredly. “... what did you mean by no more Mr Nice Guy?” 

“Just that.” He exclaims and shrugs, like it explains everything. Which it absolutely does not, but instead of snapping at him I just raise my eyebrows and wait for more of an explanation. “That... you’ll stay tied up. Most of the time, anyway. I mean, you can take showers and stuff without the rope, and on your birthday.” 

“Oh, well aren't you just a regular Prince Charming.” I sigh, rolling my eyes and gazing up at the ceiling now. Great. 

He either didn’t get a feel for the sarcasm or doesn't care. “Well I think so! So does mom.” 

“Oh god.” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. He’s such a loser. “Norman Bates, much?” 

At the reference that he definitely gets, because we binged the first season of Bates Motel together, like nearly everything else that we do apart from my escaping hobby, Marcus shifts closer to me and bangs the back of his head on the wall. “Oh, Y/N, that’s gross.” Oh so he claims, I think sarcastically, rolling my eyes yet again. Whatever. “I love you.” 

“Yeah, right.” I respond, dully, not even looking at him. At my obvious doubt, he begins to laugh. First chuckles, then full out, raucous laughter. Like its the most hilarious thing that he might not be in love with me. Like- why would he do all this to me? Kidnap me, keep me prisoner, force me to stay with him, tie me up- If he didn’t fucking love me?

I mean I have some ideas, but lets go with his story.

“I do!” He shakes his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion and hurt at my ridiculous accusation that he doesn't love me. “I do, baby.” He shifts so he can look me in the eyes and force a serious look... a goofy grin still stuck on his face that is not encouraging or confidence building at all. “I do. I fucking love you!” 

When he gets like this, its best to pretend like I believe him. Take a deep breath, adjust my thoughts - like you’re going to school and you have to remember that the place is educating you, and that’s good... not thats it's a torture institution for youth. For example, Marcus isn't a psychopathic dick-face. He’s... sometimes, sweet,- , and force a gentle smile. Hold my breath and cup his face the best I can with my wrists tied up, with one hand and lace my fingers through his hair with the other- and try not to like it so much. 

Or like it on a purely physical level and try to ignore the way, deep down, I love him. 

“... You’re right. Sorry. I know you do, baby, thank you. I... I love you too.” 

Easily his expression and his body relax, and he grins that goofy grin again that unfortunately still releases the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. “I know. Sorry, I freak out a little when you say stuff like that.” Oh, I know. “I just wouldn't want you to think that I do anything to hurt you. I just want you close.” 

“I know.” 

He smiles brighter, happy for the positive appraisal and apparent trust from me- especially in the particularly sensitive mood he’s in with me touching him. 

Then he leans across the way and kisses me. 

[jincherie]

Yes, please to Jinkook wolf au!!!!

alright, here u go!! 

wolf jinkook x reader (jungkook x reader x seokjin)

5k // sfw // wolf au, mates au, college au // drabble/excerpt

“Are you sure its okay for me to becoming?”

There’s nerves evident in your tone,but even still you can’t help but recognise the contrary ball of excitementbeginning to unravel in your stomach. You know this feeling, these butterfliesare familiar, but you haven’t felt them in a long time—you’re not sure whyyou’re feeling them now, when you’re just going to meet friends of yourfriends.

“Of course it is!” Taehyung skipscloser to you so that he can swing his arm around your shoulders, almostknocking you flat on your face from the force of it if it weren’t for the griphis hand has on your arm. “I know I kind of intimidated you with all that talkof it being a monthly wolf thing, but to be honest a bunch of supernaturalstend to rock up—for the alcohol and the entertainment, presumably.”

“Hell, last time we held it at thebeach there were even some sirens that came out to mingle.”  Jimin sidlesup next to you, grinning brightly—something about the incriminating twinkle inhis eyes told you that he was one of the ones being mingled with. “You don’thave to worry.”

“Uh, sirens are a pretty big stepaway from humans so,” you scuff your feet and pretend you don’t nearly tripfrom the action. “I think I do.”

“Nonsense!” Taehyung booms,embarrassingly loud as his voice echoes down the street. You’ve never been morethankful that it was night and people weren’t out and about to stare—thenagain, it’s probably a bit more of a commotion to be occurring at night.“Humans are welcome and come all the time! Well, a few of them. Anyway, wealready told the pack that you’re coming so they’re expecting you and if youchicken out it will be humiliating for all three of us.”

You gasp at him, appalled at how hewas abusing your overactive empathy by saying you’ll embarrass them by being ano-show. You can’t let him know he got you, though. “I’m not chickening out! Inever said I wouldn’t go!”

Taehyung only responds with asnicker, and you resist the urge to yank a lock of his blond hair like a child.The further down the road you get while bickering, the more the bundle ofnerves and anticipation inside you grows; you’re not sure what to do with it,the sensation broaching on unfamiliar. You elect to ignore it and simply hopeit will take the hint and go away.

“Yeah sure, whatever you say…”Jimin’s response grinds your gears further and you can’t help but wonderexactly how you ended up becoming such good friends with these two when they’reboth so annoying. Perhaps it’s because like attracts like, notthat you’re ever going to admit that out loud for them to hear.

You grumble indiscernibly, both maleshearing it easily with their sharper hearing. At once, they protest to thewords that left you, and the three of you are thrown into another of thehallmark arguments that seem to provide the scaffold of your relationship. Youbicker as you walk, the night breeze cool and damp from the shower that haddanced over the city barely an hour ago. As you reach further down the street,the houses becoming more and more sparsely situated, the familiar thrum of bassbegins to shake your chest and your ears begin to pick up on music carried by thebreeze.

You’re only just hearing it now, butyou don’t doubt Taehyung and Jimin heard it much earlier and it is the sourceof the sudden energy renewal that hit them a few minutes ago. With each stepyou take your stomach trembles and tightens, the sensations completely bizarreat this point. You’ve never been this nervous before—are you nervous? Is thatwhat it is? You shouldn’t be, you have no reason to be and you never usuallyare in situations like this. You have no idea what to do with yourself.

It’s as the three of you finallyapproach your destination— a pack dorm styled in a modern townhouse fashion,grey cement outside reflecting the strong, silver glow of the waxing moon,nearly full, so strongly it’s almost like a beacon before your eyes— that yourtwo friends finally stop, just at the gate that marks the beginning of theproperty. The music comes from somewhere within, a heavy trap beat at thecurrent moment. You can see figures in the windows, very suddenly recalling howmany new people are going to be here—new creatures.

“Your heartbeat is a bit uneven,”Taehyung observes, and instantly you flush in embarrassment that they’ve bothnoticed and are acutely aware that you are, in fact, nervous. You can’t evenoffer an explanation or defence because you don’t even know why! “You don’tneed to be nervous, but since you are…”

“Don’t worry!” Jimin chimes, loopingan arm through yours. The button on the sleeve of his blue leather jacketalmost catches on your shirt and he ignores your resulting glare. “We’ll bewith you! You have nothing to worry about, you’ll be safe here, and in the incrediblyunlikely event that something does happen, we’ll protect you, our favouritesquishy human friend.”

He finishes off his heartwarmingsentiment by squishing your cheeks, pulling at the fat there like an auntie.Whining, you immediately smack his hand away and shrug out of Taehyung’s arm.

“I don’t need you!” You declare,already stomping up the path and feeling the way the booming music movesthrough your chest. You know it’s going to be much, much louder on the otherside of the door. “Screw both of you! I’m a strong, independent woman, and I’mgonna go in there and I’m gonna get a strong drink and—and – I won’tneed your help! You’ll see!”

… …. ….. .. …. … ..  .. . . . . .

You’d needed their help the secondyou got inside.

You’re in the kitchen now, sipping ona very strongly spiked glass of juice, reflecting on the embarrassment of thepast few minutes.

First of all, there was a group offeline shifters in the foyer that happened to be having a particularly heatedcatfight the second you walked inside. If someone hadn’t drunkenly stumbledinto you and conveniently knocked you out of the path of one of the shifter’sclaws, then it might have been you on the receiving end of a nasty gash on theface instead. You’d felt bad that some drunk stranger had taken the fall foryou for about a split second, before they healed within the next few momentsand let out a growl before unceremoniously throwing themselves in to join thefight. Right, you forgot for a second that you were surrounded bysupernaturals.

Of course, Jimin and Taehyungwitnessed the entire affair and snickered at you from the side. No help hadcome from them, contrary to what they’d announced outside about being yourprotectors for the night, so you’d let out a huff and turned on your heel tocontinue in search of drink. You realised very quickly you’d need it if youwere going to survive this night with minimal trauma.

This is your first time in theirpackhouse, so naturally you have no idea where you are or where you’re going.Like the terrible friends they are, Taehyung and Jimin just let you walk aroundboldly, acting like you know where you’re going. Apparently it was very funny.You’d be inclined to agree with them, if it weren’t for the fact that yourwandering led you to stumbling across not just one, or two, or even threeheated moments, but five in total. This is the opposite of what you hadwanted and you grew so flustered after the fifth time discovering a bunch ofsupernaturals in a borderline orgy (all of them had at least one nymph in them,you noticed wryly) that the two finally took pity on you and dragged you theright way to the kitchen, still laughing all the while. Yes, hilarious. You’regoing to have to work for years to unpack all you’d just seen.

You’d only arrived in the kitchenjust over a minute ago, long enough that you were able to finally get a drink,but even that entrance had been met with embarrassment. You stand inmortification now, taking a large sip of your drink as you continue to feeleyes boring into you from the side.

“This is y/n, Yoongi. She’s the onewe always tell you about! You know, the one who we met because we sat behindher and caught her streaming Ouran Host Club in our Art History lecture.”

At every incriminating word thatleaves Taehyung’s big mouth, you feel humiliation crawling further up yourspine and colouring your face even more. You can’t even bring yourself to lookat Yoongi, the pack member you’d been introduced to quite unceremoniously justa few minutes ago, but you can still— still— feel his eyes boring intoyou. It’s only as he snorts that you manage to risk a glance his way, shoulderstense with discomfort.

The second you lay eyes on him, youvery suddenly recall the very recent humiliating event that just occurred andinstantly wish to die.

(The kitchen, your main destination,is the source of the drinks for tonight, and hence your two friends drag youthere. Taehyung announces he knows just what to get you, and makes a show ofmixing a secret drink. You know exactly what he’s going to give you and yetfind yourself hoping he won’t.

Of course, you have no such luck.

“Taehyung, don’t you give me anythingmalty.” You warn, pointing your finger at him. The smile that touches his lipsis borderline cherubic as he holds out a cup, the smell of that damnalcohol and coke breaching your nostrils.

“Drink it.”

“Taehyung,” you warn again, taking astep back. “Don’t you dare. You know I can’t drink it.”

“How do you even know what it is? Imade it in secret!” He argues, advancing a step and making you retreat one inturn. He might have the face of an angel but you swear there’s horns stickingout from his wavy hair.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Huh?” Youraise your hand, threatening to push the cup away if he brings it any closer.“You always try to give me whisky, or beer—you know ever since that time itmakes me want to vomit—”

Long story short, Taehyung attemptsto feed you the cursed drink, and in your struggle to get away you end upsmacking it out of his hands.

Of course, right in the line of firehappens to be someone approaching the three of you, mouth open to saysomething. The drink ends up all down their shirt and that is the very firsttime you unknowingly receive the infamous Min Yoongi Glare.

Which you realise moments later whenTaehyung laughs and introduces him as one of the members of the pack. Is it toolate to leave?)

You drink might have gone on Yoongi’sshirt and rendered it gross, but without even a blink he’d just taken thet-shirt off and revealed a pristine long-sleeved shirt underneath. You’d havebeen impressed if you weren’t so mortified at the time.

He doesn’t seem to be holding itagainst you, but you can’t really help the way you’re acting. There’s somethingabout him, an air that seems to reach and raise the hairs at the back of yourneck. He’s intimidating, even if he does look like a cat when he smiles atTaehyung being a dumbass. His energy says ‘I could snap you in half over myknee if I so wanted’, but his face says ‘All I want is a cookie and warm milk’.It gives you a bit of whiplash.

“There’s less people here than Ithought there would be,” Jimin comments after Taehyung finishes embarrassingyou. Yoongi hums, downing a generous shot of straight vodka and then smackinghis lips. Maybe you’re right to be scared.

“Nah, it’s the same as usual, it’sjust that they’re all outside.” Yoongi leans against the bench with his hip,scratching behind his ear. You refuse to acknowledge the thought you have thatlikens him to a dog using their back leg to scratch. No, that’s gonna get youbeat up and evicted from the party. Best to ignore that one.

“What are they doing? It’s kind ofcold for the pool.” Taehyung tilts his head.

Yoongi blinks at him, seeming amused.“They’re watching the usual event that goes down at these things. We’ve amassedquite the crowd for it tonight. Must be all the ones that Shownu’s packinvited.”

His words are vague, but both boysbeside you light up, apparently much more clued in than you.

“Oh, yes! I love it when thishappens! Plus, it’s been a while since I last joined in… I might have totonight. You wanna be my partner, Jiminie?”

Jimin snorts, already pushing offfrom the bench and grabbing your arm to begin dragging you. Yoongi watches themfor a moment before growing bored and turning back around, reaching for thebottle of Smirnoff.

“No thanks, I nearly wiped myself outlast time, remember? Just ask Kookie. You know he’ll be up for it the secondyou challenge him.”

Taehyung hums, joining his friend indragging you in the direction of two glass sliding doors. You’re so confused,and kind of scared. They won’t listen to you asking them where the hell you’regoing, though. Head empty, ears turned off.

Before you know it, you’re steppingout of the house and into the ‘yard’, for lack of better word. Your drink isstill in your hand and you’re trying desperately not to spill it as yourfriends grow more careless in their movements. Sometimes, you think they forgetthey’re werewolves with werewolf strength.

Outside is illuminated by stronglights attached to the back of the building, a pool set to the side  and avast, clear field directly centre before you. There are a few groups of peoplejust milling about, minding their own business and having their own fun—inmultiple senses of the word, you note as you tear your eyes away from a couplein the corner with flaming cheeks. Will your mind have no choice but to leavethis party tainted? The rest of the people, what you would argue is a largechunk of the attending partygoers, are cheering and hollering towards the edgeof the clearing. Jimin and Taehyung seem unbelievably excited at this fact, andare quick to drag you over.

Very quickly are you enlightened asto what is happening, and you’re equal parts incredulous, impressed, andbaffled.

Put bluntly—they’re having werewolfraces.

Teens and young adults around youholler and cheer, a large portion of the amassed crowd hooting as two wolvestear across the grass, going so fast you almost fall over from the shock of it.You had no idea anything in this world could move that fast! Well, that’s alie, you knew about it. Still, seeing it is different!

Both wolves are massive, one colouredrosy gold and the other dark, speckled grey. They’re about the same size, youmanage to observe despite the blur of their movements, but the grey one is justa bit bigger, and leaner, while its companion is stockier. Oddly, despite thefact you’ve been here all of thirty seconds, you find yourself becomingentranced as you watch with bated breath to see who will be the winner of thisrace. What can you say, you’ve always been a sucker for a competition.

The finish line is marked by two binson the far right side of the clearing, and as the two wolves grow closer thesmaller one seems to gain more ground. The crowd goes off in anticipation. Youreally think that it might be the one to win, until the grey wolf lets out ashort yowl that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and then proceeds to launchitself forward and to the side, just barely feet from the bins. It goes rightin front of the gold wolf, of course, and with an irate bark and a short growlthe two of them go down in a tangle of limbs, the race devolving into anabridged form of wolf wrestling. When they cross the finish line it’s as oneunit, and you can hear the disappointment in the crowd behind you.

“HAH Yugyeom is always such a dirtycheat, I don’t know why Jackson never remembers and always agrees to race him.”Taehyung is cackling beside you, Jimin joining his amusement, while you watchthe two wolves tumble and roll in a blur until they separate and instead of twohulking wolves, it’s two shirtless males falling back on the damp grass, theirpants looking like they’d seen better days.

“Woah,” you can’t help but remark,eyes wide. You’ve heard a lot about wolf transformations, but you didn’trealise it was so quick.

Almost as though he can read yourmind, Jimin shoots you an amused smile. “The closer it is to a full moon, theeasier it is to transform. It’s a lot harder, longer, sometimes more painfulwhen it’s a new or waning moon.”

You wince, but Taehyung’s optimisticchime clears the expression from your face. “Yeah, we’re so close to the fullmoon right now that we can change in just a few seconds. It’s much smoother,and less stressful on the body. Which is good, since the nearer we are to afull moon the more our wolf itches to get out.”

“A lot of little details go into yourlives huh,” you comment, marvelling at all the things you’re learning even now,almost half a year into knowing them.

“Yup,” Taehyung answers, though he’sremarkably distracted as he does so. He seems to be searching the crowd behindyou for someone, and you find out exactly who in the next moment. “Ah, there heis— Namjoon!”

You turn in the direction Taehyungwaved, catching sight of a tall male with an ashy, silver-hued undercutstanding a good few metres away, pink drink to his mouth. He nearly spills itwhen his name is called, though, and you quickly connect the stories you’veheard of him and his clumsiness with his face. Ah, at last, the man, the myth,the legend himself – the resident Wolf God of Destruction.

Clearly a little bit drunk, if theway he wobbles as he turns to face you, long limbs like jelly, is anything togo by, Namjoon waves enthusiastically.

“I thought I smelt you,” he says, andit takes a moment for you to remember that’s something normal for them. “Whattook you guysh so long?”

He’s much less intimidating thanYoongi, you observe, but at the same time there’s a different sort ofundercurrent that surrounds him. He’s intimidating in a different way, a waythat you can’t quite name or put your finger on—despite the fact you think youjust saw him spill a bit of his drink on his white t-shirt. Your suspicions areconfirmed when you see a splotch of pink bloom in the fabric moments later.

“We were dragging this one out,”Taehyung happily responds, slapping you on the back. You narrow your eyes athim; oh, you’ll remember his eagerness to humiliate you.

Namjoon, you’re pretty sure, hadn’teven realised you were there until Taehyung just pointed you out. “Oh, hello!”

“Joon, this is y/n, the friend wealways tell you about, the one we said we were bringing tonight,” Jiminintroduces, prompting you to do an awkward little wave. He then gestures to thetall male currently beaming at you with dimples on display. “y/n, this isNamjoon, our leader and one of the alphas of the pack.”

 “It’s nice to meet you!” you greet,smiling brightly and allowing yourself to slip comfortably into your moreextroverted persona. “Thank you for letting me come tonight!”

Namjoon seems somewhat flustered atyour words. “Nice to meet you too, and it’s no problem—you’re welcome to come,you know, these things aren’t anything exclusive. Um, it’s kind of justwhoever… yeah.”

Taehyung snorts, apparently findingthe partway inebriation of his leader very funny. “Great, now she’s met almosteverybody. Where’s the rest?”

“Hope’s inside, probably practicingthe karma sutra with some poor soul,” Namjoon answers, swaying as he sculls therest of his drink. It takes all of your willpower not to sputter and guffaw athis words. He then jerks his thumb behind him. “As for dumb and dumber—they’reover there. They’ve been bickering about who’s faster for the past ten minutes,so they’re probably going to race soon.”

“Again?!” Taehyung groans, and you’reonly left wondering why for a moment before he continues and answers the silentquestion in your head. “I have hardly anything left in my wallet from lasttime, why are they going again?”

Jimin snorts. “It’s your own faultfor betting on the wrong party. You know it’s actually kind of impressive howyou manage to choose the one that loses every time. Maybe you’re a bad luckcharm.”

Insulted beyond belief, Taehyunggapes at his friend and packmate, looking to Namjoon every few seconds like achild looking to their parent and waiting for them to step in and scold theirsibling. Namjoon isn’t going to be any help anytime soon, however, as you turnyour gaze and catch him staring with a frown into the bottom of his cup withunwavering focus, like he was trying to figure out where his drink went. Apparently, this wasn’t his first one of the night.

Before Taehyung and Jimin cancontinue bickering any more, there is a commotion behind Namjoon that catchesyour collective attention. There’s movement in the crowd, people shuffling andshouting, some laughing and cheering, before two figures break out. One of themis in a headlock but quickly wriggles his way out, bolting your way—the otheris hot on his heels.

“You’ll never catch me, old man!” Itdoesn’t take you long to figure out that the one in front has no apparent fearof god or man. “You’re as slow as ever! I’m gonna run laps around youagain, just you watch!”

“YAH! If I’m so old then where’s therespect, huh?! I’m five years older than you, that’s five years I’ve spentrunning more—”

You knew they were heading in yourgeneral direction, but you didn’t realise that they were quite literallyheading straight for you, and by no means looking where they’re going. Theymove so fast that not even Taehyung or Jimin, let alone yourself, can warn themor move out of the way. All you know is that one second you’re standing therenursing your drink and preparing to take a sip, and the next you’ve been bowledto the ground, dampness seeping into your back and front.

(Faintly, you realise your drink hasended up all over your front, and you think you can hear Karma laughing in thedistance.)

Blinking, for a moment you worryyou’ve been concussed before your vision clears and you’re made aware of a veryheavy weight atop of you. Somewhat delayed, a small noise of pain escapes youand it seems to be what kicks the person atop of you into gear.

“Oh!” They’re scrambling off of youinstantly, still kneeling on the ground but no longer atop of you as you bringyourself to lean on your elbows with a groan. “Oh, I- I a-am so sorry, I w—”

You expect the apologies to continuewhen they cut off abruptly, and when the silence stretches on another momentyou look up in confusion. You feel your stomach flip at the sight of the boythat had knocked you over, boyish features frozen in a look that you have noidea how to interpret except for complete and utter surprise. He’s cute,you observe with only the slightest amount of shame, even when he looks like adeer caught in headlights. The dark curls atop his head and the dark cocoa ofhis eyes do him justice—wait, you could have sworn they were dark brown, but asyou look at him you swear you see the outside begin to tinge gold.

“Uh, it’s okay—” the words are moreautomatic than anything, and an attempt to fill the space left by the boy whois still sitting frozen and staring at you. You don’t even get to finishthough, cut off by the voice of the person who had been chasing this boy thatknocked you over like a pin in a bowling lane.

“Jungkook, you little brat! Look whatyou did, you went and knocked some poor girl over! You even spilt her drink onher shirt—what are you doing, get off her already you bratty pup—”

Arms slip under the boy and almosthaul him away, but froze in their motions. Your eyes fly to the face of theperson they belong to, and you feel your stomach flip once more, nerves andheartbeat off the charts. He’s older-looking, less boyish in the face than theboy that ran you over, but even so he’s probably one of the most strikinglyattractive people you’ve ever seen; and he’s frozen, staring at you with thatexact same caught-in-headlights look as the boy in his arms. You feel a wash ofheat flow along your back and crawl up your neck at the attention. Suddenly,your insecurities return from earlier. God, you knew it, you shouldn’t havecome—it’s because you’re human, isn’t it? They can clearly tell, and—

“y/n!”

It seems that Taehyung and Jimin’sfriend instincts have finally kicked in after a prolonged amount of timewherein you were left on the ground, and they both grasp an arm to haul you uponto your feet. The change in angle makes you acutely aware of the drinkdrenching your front and sliding down your skin. Oh, god, that’s going to be sosticky later.

“Are you—” Jimin barely gets tofinish asking if you’re okay before a sound you’ve never heard so close beforesplits the air and instantly raises the hair on the back of your neck, yourentire body stiffening.

Growling, low and so strong itresonates through your chest. Your eyes whip to the source, surprise washingover you to see that its those same two boys, eyes no longer dark as you’d justseen but flaring a peculiar gold that whirls like liquid. Instantly, you’reaware of how the air and crowd around you has suddenly stilled, all attentionon your little group. The growls continue until Jimin and Taehyung’s handsleave your arms, and then their attention is on each other.

If you thought the first sounds letout were terrifying, then the snarls that were let loose at each other weredownright bloodcurdling.  You have no idea what has caused thesudden animosity between them, since they seem to be packmates, but for amoment you think they might be about to fight for real. The tension in the airmakes it hard to breathe as the sounds grow louder, boys leaning away from eachother and their forms beginning to tremble. Just as you think they’re about toshift, a stern voice cuts through the air.

“Stop.”

Instantly the snarling and growlingceases, the two boys stilling completely. The tension is cut as something elsewashes over the field.

It’s Namjoon who spoke, and thecommand in his tone makes your stomach clench and shoulders pinch in tension.He seems to be momentarily sober enough to reprimand the two, incredulous eyesgoing between each of them.

“Are the two of you seriously growlingand snarling at each other like pups right now? Are you kidding me?” He soundsalmost like an exasperated father as he snaps at the two, gaze whipping toTaehyung and Jimin to deliver a nod over his shoulder, before he continues hisscolding. “Both of you are fast! My gods, do you have to fight about this everytime we have a celebration? Honestly. Both of you go inside and cool downbefore I tell Yoongi and he beats your asses. I’m drunk, I shouldn’t have toeven—”

Regrettably, you don’t get to hear therest of the reprimanding. Taehyung and Jimin step in front of you, nudging andpushing you back before you realise they’re herding you away and you look tothem in confusion.

“Jungkookie and Jinnie are about toget in a lot of trouble, and there probably won’t be much fun and games afterthat, so we may as well go,” Taehyung says with a shrug, nonchalant as ever.There’s something different in his expression though, the barest hint ofconfusion; apparently his two other packmates don’t fight to that extent veryoften.

“But—but I’m not even drunk! I didn’teven get to finish my second drink!” you protest, eyes going to your shirtwhich now displays the fate of your poor, unfortunate drink.

“That’s fine, you have vodka at yourhouse right?” Jimin asks, continuing to urge you. “We’ll just get shitfacedthere. Dibs on the couch for sleeping tonight.”

At the unexpected and cruel twist offate that has left him allocated to sleeping on the floor of your unit,Taehyung lets out a whine. You leave the property at their urging, but can’thelp but feel a certain two pairs of eyes boring into your back the entire wayout. 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y’know the wildest thing still to happen to me on this hellsite was my first experience of sexting, sans nudes, that was done in front of at least 250-500 followers because of those horny anons i had in early 2013 when i was 17. instead of being exposed to it on my phone privately with a partner at that age, it was done publicly for the internet to see lmao. i remember begging the anons to stop and “come off anon” because i was “losing followers” at the time too bc i was so insecure about my follower count lmao. and then yeah when they came off anon they were both 28 years old.

to write the responses, i just consulted cosmo mag sex pages for ideas hoping that the anons would like the options i chose. in one i detailed doing anal- a sex act i hadn’t even done yet irl- let alone every other thing i suggested in them (head, idek long, drawn out foreplay, some stupid fancy sex moves that cosmo was all like “use these moves to spice up your sex life 🔥🔥”, sex in a bath, i’m pretty sure i had some lines about tying or handcuffing them to a bed (????) etc etc etc)….

when again, i had never even done any of those above sex acts in real life. i was a naive teen who was incredibly shy in regards towards her love life because she’d “never been kissed” and had never had the “hot emo boyfriend whose in a band and is covered in tattoos” she’d always wanted, let alone even a boyfriend that she had actually fucking liked (ie clear braces boy, for like a month in year 9/2010 vs the popular boys that made fun of her, that she always had unrequited crushes on)…. hell, my blog title when i first started on here in 2011 was “the perfect epitome of being forever alone” because of these very reasons. but here she was, writing explicit sex acts to strangers like she knew what the fuck she was doing, to an audience of 250-500 people- and then to fucking grown ass men in inboxes. i was just parroting the shit i’d read in cosmo (both sex advice and sometimes excerpts of erotica/“sexy, steamy reads” they had some months) and also heard repeatedly in the porn that my high school stalker/creeper at public school loved to show (harass) me with to flirt with me, whenever we were alone together at school in 2012/2013.

like you could tell how naive i was….. because i used ridiculous lines like “like a gentleman entranced, you lead me to the bath for our next foray” and dumbass prose-y things like that. because what the fuck does that even mean 😂😅????

and this is why i think minors should be careful with their online experiences. like yeah, you could say that i wasn’t a minor anymore- more of a “young adult”- who should of made the smart decision to not engage with these anons. but i was a kid. i thought it was fun. and when the dudes came off anon, i thought to myself “it’s not like i’m ever gonna meet them if i ever go to the US or puerto rico at any point. it’s not like that they’ll ever recognise me in person or ever reach out to me again in the future. i might as well do it.” and i did eventually end up ignoring the guys in my inbox, due to my mental health kinda plummeting from the middle til the end of 2013 because of my end of high school exams and stuff… and also the puerto rican guy’s infamously inappropriate “hot PE teacher fucks HOT female high school student in the girls change room showers” fantasy which fucking disgusted me, when he full well knew that i was STILL IN high school.

and obviously again, there’s the point about using the “block” button function. but as i’ve stated several times over my years on here, back in my early days of tumblr, i never wanted to block or unfollow people (even if they were trash like these two men), because it seemed so “mean” and “final”. obvs now i have no qualms about blocking people, and actively encourage younger people on here to use the block button with reckless abandon towards creepy people or people who can hurt them in some way. but to high school teenage me, the whole “using the block button” thing seemed to go against me being a “nice girl/person” so i never used it, no matter which social media platform i was on.

this is why i’m hella scared for young teen girls on tik tok wanting to have onlyfans accounts: because it’s where they’ll be exposed to ACTUAL CREEPS AND PREDATORS incredibly quickly; all because they can make money off selling images of just their feet or eventually their body….. depending on what these creepy strangers demand from them….. and they’ll feel like they’ll have to do it…. but to do it before you even start experimenting properly with relationships and sex is even worse. like. yeah. i’ve admitted before that i originally started this tumblr to possibly post nudes, to see if i’d get the positive feedback that i so desperately wanted/craved from the boys in my year at catholic school- eg. to be called “sexy”, “hot”, “fuckable” possibly “beautiful”- like some of the so called “popular girls” got on their hella basic bikini photos back then (like i remember one girl i knew ended up with like 500 likes and a fair amount of comments on one of her bikini pics and i was INCREDIBLY BITTER because not even a pic of me with a nice outfit on, my hair done and makeup on could EVER get those numbers, let alone even break over the double digits).

but i decided posting nudes or other explicit images on here was an absolute no go, because i realised that i never wanted people that i knew digging up barely clothed/naked pics of me and sending them to me all like “hey, is this you?” and then possibly mocking me, all because i would’ve been dumb enough to put my face in them probably at the time. now when i take nudes and send them, i never show my face. because i know now, that even in relationships, your partner can use nude pics as leverage for arguments or to abuse you in such a way that they’ll upload your pics without your knowledge to god knows where on the internet probably as a way to get back at you in a horrible breakup.

this is what i sincerely hope some young girls who ever contemplate starting onlyfans accounts take some time SERIOUSLY CONSIDER. please know that if you share shit on onlyfans, it can shared and re-shared (i think idek how OF works tbh) to god knows who- and eventually end up in the hands of people you know. i don’t fucking care if it’s a “good way to make money!” or if people think that im trying to stop teen girls from being “girl bosses” and the other dumb as fuck internet memes you want to throw at me. because this shit isn’t “haha internet meme funny” material. it’s some fucking serious stuff. and also, i’m not saying “don’t become a sex worker when you’re older” or whatever either. you’re free to make that choice when you’re in your 20s (no i even mean 17-19 year olds in this post as “young teen girls”- sorry you’re basically kids to me at almost 26). just please consider where the fuck your stuff can be shared to. who it can end up being shared with or to.

this is why i was so fucking adamant with my infamous old follower mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF that i personally would NOT consider becoming a camgirl for him or just generally… because i had no idea where the fuck my images or videos would end up. and do you know the places i’d never want them to fucking be??? in the hands of my high school stalker/creeper. in the hands of those two 28yo men from 2013 (who’d now be in there late 30s or early 40s). i absolutely don’t want them in the hands the mid-to-late 20s and early 30s men that that girl i met at public school in 2012 who was pissed that i didn’t believe that were “adults” because we were finally over the legal age of consent (16) in our state of australia, and so we were apparently fine to “fuck” literal grown ass men because “just fuck them and they’ll be nice to you!!” which i knew was fucking bullshit.

i absolutely don’t fucking want explicit videos/images of me ending up in “why the fuck won’t you let me give you “sex lessons” in the back of my car as a “favour” and as payment for teaching you how to drive you stupid, stuck up & frigid, virgin bitch!?” guy’s hands from 2014 (when i was 18/19 at the time and he was 25… he ended up being the first person of many i’d EVER block on social media lol). or i don't want them in the hands of those weird early 20s dudes (one of which was trying to set me up with his friend) who hit on me at 16/17 (2012) who were angry that i didn’t like and watch porn as much as they did…. and who promptly asked me at the end of their period of harassing of me: “do you know any sluts we could add?” because i kept refusing their suggestions etc.

hell, quite frankly i don’t even want them to go to mr adelaide fuckboy/MAF either, but the very few and far between nudes that i sent on snapchat to him back in 2016 are some nudes that i’d rather forget lmao. hell. i don’t even know if MAF ever deleted my nudes or shared them somewhere else or not, after he fucking wheedled them out of me with “i’ve followed you for 4 years, don’t be a shit! you owe me nudes!” so he’d just shut the fuck up about my social life decisions and leave me the fuck alone.

i don’t want ANY ONE of the guys i mentioned above to get their hands on photos of minors either…. because i definitely know my hs stalker/creeper would… because his fave “make her jealous” tactic that he’s always used on me is that “hey…. i’m dating a *insert teenage girl’s age here*! be fucking jealous that you don’t fucking have me and feel guilty that you won’t fuck me like this girl does!!!” just like he did in 2015, when i ran into him on the home from uni… when i turned 20 the next week and he turned 20 that december. at that time it was a 14yo girl he used as an example of him “dating”/“fucking” to make me jealous. instead, i was completely and utterly fucking disgusted. like any fucking sane and normal human being would/should be at that horrible age gap. that is literally a fucking child that he was fucking grooming. and we were literal adults. back the fuck away.

just please. PLEASE CONSIDER the types of people that trawl these kinds of sites and their intentions. please consider that you are young. very fucking young. you literally DO NOT need to upload nudes to the internet because it’s apparently a “lucrative” business. fuck the jokey “boss babe” rhetoric around it all the way to fucking hell.

because if you’re a minor: i do not want you to have your first experience of sexting or sending explicit images literally in front of god knows how many total strangers for the whole world to see (okay i know only fans is like subscriber/follower based or whatever. but i don’t care)…… even when you (depending how good you are with relationships etc) haven’t reached the common supposed milestones of your “first boyfriend/girlfriend/partner” or “first kiss” or have even “lost your virginity” (which isn’t real anyway- don’t buy this fucking bullshit)…. just like i stupidly did with my exposure to sexting here on my tumblr back in 2013. these people don’t/won’t give a flying fuck about your privacy or safety. they don’t/won’t give a fuck about your boundaries either.

please don’t possibly scar yourself for life, just because you’re being told that it’s a quick & convenient way to make some money for weirdos on the depths of the internet. you will regret it in future. just like i do now with mine. it should’ve been something personal between me and and a guy i trusted and liked at the time. not to some random 250-500 random strangers on this hellsite (okay the notes on these posts were literally single digits or non-existent, but still… and also some of my irl friends who had tumblr saw these posts as well) for a show….. and then privately with two 28yo literal grown ass men…. who should’ve been fucking hitting on women their own goddamned age and in their own countries and NOT a 17yo high school KID (at the time) from australia; who, now in her 20s, needs therapy to sort this shit out lmao. mind you they both reeled me in with the “you’re so mature for your age” bullshit line…. which i fell for a little bit, even if it did make me feel kinda gross at the time, too. don’t fall for that bullshit either.

[thatonedaydream]

Elevator buddy (Sephiroth x Reader)

a/n: i just want to write cute shit for him okay he just needs goddamn AFFECTION okAY?! Back when he wasn’t insane he was probably nice af, idk, whatever. I just want pretty angel murder man to be nice to you OKAY? OKAYYYYYYY. I DON’T KNOW. I LIKE HIM BEING SOFT AND WELL ROUNDED. I THINK I’M ALLOWED THAT.

★★★★★

Elevator rides in the Shinra building were the fucking worst. It was tall as hell building, so elevator rides could get really long depending on where you were going and how busy it was. Some days you legitimately thought taking the stairs would be a better option, but y’know, you liked being alive.

You let out a loud groan as you saw people crowded around one lift. It looked like a couple other elevators were busted. Apparently, renovations were happening somewhere in the building, but what the fuck were they doing? It was like they were fixing one thing by breaking everything else.

There was a loud ding as the stupid elevator finally arrived at the ground floor. Although when the doors opened, no one moved. You were at the back and huffed in annoyance. “Move in people. We got places to be? What are you—” Pointedly bumping people aside, you tried to get a glimpse of what was going on. When you realised what the hold up was, you rolled your eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me. Let me through.”

There was literally only one other person in the elevator.

People stepped aside to let you through and you resisted giving them the finger as the door closed. Turning to the other person with you, you grinned. “Hey, Sephiroth!”

The 1st Class Soldier said your name in a greeting and offered the usual slight smile that he gave you. You could understand why people were so intimidated by Sephiroth. He towered over everyone, was clearly proficient at killing things, honestly didn’t talk that much and even if he did he rarely did it with expression. Okay, he was intimidating as all fuck, but he hadn’t ever been rude or dangerous to you! In fact, he was always cordial and was the perfect elevator buddy.

“Welcome back! I missed you.” You gave him a warm and bright smile.

There was friendly and then there was you. At first, Sephiroth thought you were forcing yourself to be overly friendly towards him in a defensive gesture, but he figured over time that you were being genuine. It was refreshing. He liked seeing your face light up every time you saw him past the elevator doors. You’d even wave enthusiastically to him if you saw him anywhere in the building. “I hope you’ve been well.” 

“Same old, same old.” Which meant things weren’t really good. You were a project manager and honestly, it sucked ass at Shinra. There was a lot of bullshit policies and red tape, you couldn’t stand it. You were thinking of leaving to find some other job, but you’d likely have to take a significant pay cut and you weren’t sure you were ready for that. “Did you bring me a present from your last trip?”

“Hm.” There was a flash of a smirk and Sephiroth shook his head in a negative. “If I had known you wanted something, I would have looked for a suitable souvenir.” It wasn’t a bad idea, now that he thought about it.

You gave an exaggerated gasp and put a hand on your chest. “You didn’t get me anything? Wow and here I said I missed you and everything.” You heaved a sigh. “Incidentally, have I told you that I take apologies in coffees?” You sent another cute grin his way with a wrinkle of your nose. “Jokes aside, I could actually go for one. I was late this morning and couldn’t stop by the stall downstairs.”

Sephiroth gave you a careful once over and noticed that you did seem a little more dishevelled than usual. There were dark circles forming around your eyes and that was a decent stack of papers in the bag you were carrying. “Have things become that bad since I last saw you?”

You looked up to see Sephiroth watching you kind of curiously, but you could detect a hint of worry—or maybe you were just being hopeful. He most likely had a lot on his mind already and you didn’t want to burden him with your troubles. 

Your lips curved into a smile. “Nothing you have to worry about, Mister 1st Class Soldier.” You shifted your bag slightly as the strap was starting to dig into your shoulder uncomfortably; you couldn’t wait to drop it on the floor when you got to your desk. “Although I wonder if they should just change my job title to ‘Project Dumping Grounds’. I—”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to let someone in. Someone you really didn’t want to see. Speaking of dumping projects on you, the man who just walked in was one of the main culprits. “You!” Aaaand he definitely recognised you. Unlike the other office workers, the man completely ignored Sephiroth as he got in the elevator and began to rip into you. “You missed the deadline that was set for you. I just had to cover for your mistakes downstairs!”

You were absolutely not ready for any kind of abusive treatment right then and there. The truth of the matter was that the project was never yours, it was just dumped in your lap to follow up. Since it had been sitting untouched for a while all the deadlines had been missed or changed. There was literally nothing you could have done about it.  As this dude was shouting shit in your face, you couldn’t formulate any kind of calm and logical response, even though you knew the truth. 

You were exhausted. You were stressed. You really didn’t need this. The man continued to vomit whatever abuse he had backed up for you and you were frozen in place. Your throat tightened and you felt tears coming—

Sephiroth stepped in front of you and had one hand on the elevator door so it wouldn’t close. “Get out.” He loomed over the much shorter man. He spoke his words calmly, but there was a very real underlying threat. 

The man opened his mouth to protest, but he took one look at Sephiroth’s face and instantly lost all his bravado. A Soldier’s eyes always had an underlying glow, but there was a flash of something dangerous in the ones glaring down him. The insignificant office worker absolutely believed he was going to lose his life if he didn’t leave. Now.

When he was gone, the elevator doors closed and you let out a shaky breath. Sephiroth said nothing and you were glad because if he did, you were going to start crying. Your eyes drifted to the elevator doors and there was a faint hint of a dent where the 1st Class Soldier had held it open. Had he really gripped the door so tightly? Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Eventually, the elevator stopped at the right floor and the both of you stepped out. Sephiroth stayed by your side for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. This was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you. You always seemed so carefree and happy, and you were always so kind to people. Seeing you get treated badly didn’t sit well with him. “I’ll—get you that coffee.”

You understood that people found Sephiroth intimidating, but as he softly spoke those words to you, you couldn’t understand why anyone would think that was all he was. Sephiroth was a person and you didn’t want to treat him only as an exceptional soldier. You gave him the best smile you could muster. “Thanks, Sephiroth. You’re the best.”

As you turned to leave, you ignored the butterflies in your stomach that would come and go in the silver-haired man’s presence. Nothing romantic could happen anyway. It wasn’t possible. You were content in having such an awesome elevator buddy, anyway.

Right?

[fandom-necromancer]

A little Distraction Part 4

This has been prompted by a lovely anon! I still can’t believe how many of you like this story, I hope I can do it justice XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Reverse AU (Warnings: mentioned abuse, but you know the last part,so...) Link to part one no longer available [Part2]   [Part3]   [Part5]   [Read complete on AO3]

‘I-I-I’m still embarrassed about it.’ Richard looked at Gavin sitting in the passenger side lips quirking up. ‘Hey, don’t be’, he laughed. ‘Connor and Hank won’t mind, and it was nice seeing you relax for once.’ ‘Holy shit, I m-m-met you yesterday!’ ‘I guess’, Richard shrugged and drove on. ‘Hey, don’t overthink it. If you want to, we can all pretend it never happened.’ Gavin staid silent for a while. ‘I don’t think I want that.’ ‘Hmm?’, Richard hummed in question. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean that it f-f-felt gooood. Wouldn’t want it to never have happened.’

‘Then try not to worry’, Richard suggested gently. ‘I didn’t mind it. I enjoyed that evening a lot.’ They both drove in silence for a while, then Richard hesitantly asked: ‘You still want to come back home with me? Or did you change your mind?’ ‘No, I… I stand by my word. I would… I think I just want to belong somewhere, and you might just work.’ Richard smiled to himself, nodding. ‘Right kind of weird for you?’ ‘Right kind of normal’, Gavin disagreed. ‘But yeah, you get the essence. Let’s just get back.’

They arrived back at Richard’s house and took their share of the leftovers back inside. Connor had packed Gavin an extra portion of the thirium cookies and he didn’t really know how he should feel about that. Still, as he sat at Richard’s table over an unfinished puzzle, munching on them. ‘You r-r-r-really enjoy doing this?’, he asked sceptically. ‘Yeah’, the human nodded. ‘But it’s just a pictuuure. It’s right there on the p-p-packaging too.’ Richard huffed. ‘Yeah, I guess it’s pointless. But it’s fun and something to keep you busy. I always got at least one on Christmas because the grandparents didn’t really know what to get me. Connor and I always finished one the days in between the years. I like to hold up that tradition.’ Gavin frowned and took a random piece from the heap. He looked at it, then at the picture on the box and placed it in the middle of the empty space. ‘Th-th-this one belongs there’, he said without much interest.

Richard looked at it and laughed. ‘You need to find pieces that fit together until you have the whole picture, Gavin.’ ‘If I continue liiiike this, it will be finished too.’ Richard sighed and handed him the piece. ‘Try find a piece in there that fits with yours.’ Gavin took it and looked at the box until the human took it away. ‘Without cheating’, he demanded. ‘I’d have to try every single one!’ ‘Nah, you can sort those out that don’t fit by colour’, Nines shrugged. ‘Only then it’s trial and error.’ Gavin shook his head and searched the heap, occasionally flicking pieces a bit too far when his hands glitched. Apparently, he had found one and tested it out. The piece fit perfectly. ‘This is pointless’, he commented, searching for the next one. ‘Maaaaaybe this is just a human th-th-thing.’ Richard grinned. ‘Maybe. Any other idea? What would you rather do?’

Gavin was thinking, trying to find the next piece. His hands glitched stronger suddenly and he had to momentarily stop. ‘We… I went for a walk with m-m-my f-f-family baaaack then. The day after Christmas.’ Richard stopped, attention focussing completely on the android in front of him. ‘Th-th-th-the kids loooved the snow. Alwaaays went to the Grand C-c-circus park and build a snowman or…’ This time it wasn’t his voice-box giving in. Gavin just stopped speaking. ‘Do you want to go there?’, Richard asked carefully. ‘I could drive us there.’ ‘I don’t actually know’, the android answered. ‘Maybe?’ He looked at Richard uncertainly. Nines tried to be reassuring and stood up. ‘I’ll get the keys. We can go and if you don’t like it, we simply drive back. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a bit after Hank’s food.’

-

Less than half an hour later, they stood at the entrance of the park. The trees were clad in festive lights and shone on the pathways in the beginning dark. Quite a few people were walking about, but it wasn’t at all crowded. Richard wrapped his scarf closer around his neck to keep out the cold and put his hands in his pockets. He looked around, breath coming out in little clouds and he smiled. ‘It’s nice here.’ Gavin just nodded and hesitantly followed the human in. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come to a place loaded with memories, but when he watched Richard smiling at the lights all around and locating the nearest trailer that sold coffee, he was almost ready to change his mind on that first impression. He quickly joined him and a cup of warmed thirium was pressed into his hand. Confused he looked at it. ‘Hey, you think I’d only get myself something?’, Richard chuckled. ‘How’s that saying? If you’re cold, they are cold?’ ‘I b-b-believe that’s for dogs’, Gavin complained. ‘Androids can’t get cold.’ ‘Then pretend this stupid human doesn’t understand and is concerned.’ ‘Urgh’, Gavin groaned at Richard pampering him, but still accepted the warm drink, sipping on it.

‘There’s a free bench over there’, the human pointed out. ‘How about we sit there and enjoy our drinks, hmm?’ ‘Th-th-the whole point oooof this is to move a bit after eatiiing a lot.’ ‘Are you complaining about everything today?’, Richard asked, but the soft smile on his face told Gavin he didn’t mean it. ‘I just like complaining’, Gavin shrugged. They sat down on the bench underneath a decorated tree and just watched the people walking by and the decorations. After a while though, Gavin’s eyes found their ways to the person sitting next to him. There was a certain spark in those grey-blue eyes as they looked up towards the night sky that still held a few stars even with all the light pollution. Richard caught him staring the next moment, but Gavin didn’t avert his eyes. He was still thinking about how to put everything he felt right now into a simple thank you, as someone came running up to him.

‘Gavin!’ He flinched at the touch, but recoiled even more when he saw who stood there, a hand on his knee. ‘Kathy?’, he breathed the name in question, disbelieving and panicking at the implication of the child standing here. ‘Max! Max, Gavin’s here!’, the girl shouted, and Gavin’s heart sank as another familiar face appeared smiling as he recognised him. ‘Gavin!’ The android just stared at them wide-eyed, unable to speak. ‘Kathrine, Max, where are you? Get back here!’ Oh no. He knew that voice. ‘What- Get away from that man, you two!’ Gavin looked up in the face of the man that pulled his children away from where they had stood before him. And the man stared right back. They both were likely the same level of shocked, but Gavin was freezing completely over. He couldn’t move and at the same time trembled in glitches, while his LED was stuck on red.

‘Err… Kathy, Max, please go back to your mom, okay?’ ‘But that’s Gavin!’, the girl protested. ‘Yes, let daddy talk to him for a while, okay?’ The man turned around, watching them run back to their mother before facing Gavin again and swallowing. The android still was unable to do anything but stare. ‘Gavin… is it really you?’ The android nodded jerkily. ‘Yes. It’s me, John.’ The human took a step back, breathing heavy. ‘Oh, God.’

Richard looked at the encounter from the side-lines, needing no explanation to what happened here. ‘Oh, God, Gavin, I’m so fucking sorry. I panicked and I wanted to keep them save and I- I… Fuck, I didn’t know you were alive. I did horrible things to you. Truly horrible things. I can’t even imagine how you must have felt and fuck. I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know, I-‘ ‘IIIIt’s o-o-o-okay’, Gavin pressed out just to make the man shut his mouth. ‘No, it’s not. I fucking beat you almost every day! And when I was afraid you were alive and would turn on me, I just dumped you telling you to wait. Although I knew I’d never come back for you.’ ‘It’s okaaaay’, Gavin tried again. ‘I d-d-d-don’t waaaant to th-th-think about it anymore.’ John looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. ‘Why?’ ‘B-b-b-because I have my ooown family now.’ It was the first time, the man even acknowledged Richard sitting next to him, coffee long forgotten. ‘What?’ ‘R-r-richard. He found me at the scraaaapyard and t-t-t-took me hooome. I haaated you. I waaanted to c-c-come back. I missed you. Th-th-the kids. You were my faaamily. But I waited l-l-l-long enough for you. I want to st-st-start again now. With Richard and h-h-his family.’

John swallowed hard and got to his knees, ignoring how the snow soaked the fabric of his trousers. Carefully, he took Gavin’s hand in his and nodded. ‘Okay. I understand. Just… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you were a machine that didn’t feel anything. I… I still shouldn’t have, and I know it. I’m sorry I did this to you. I want you to know that. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that because of me. I’m… I’ve sought help for my problem. The kids and Helen, they are safe from me. And I wish you all the best in your life. I hope we never meet again.’ He stood up and took a step back, facing Richard and he could see the man was really meaning it. ‘Treat him better than I did. Promise me.’ Nines nodded. ‘I will.’ ‘Thank you. Goodbye, Gavin.’

Richard watched the man hurry back to his family and Gavin sip on his thirium with shaking hands. They had long left the park, when he dared to talk to the android again. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Not r-r-really’, Gavin answered. ‘I think I would like to go home now.’ ‘Of course’, Richard spoke gently and guided him up and towards his car. ‘I’ll drive us home.’ The sound of the engine made Gavin ease up a bit, but it was only when they arrived at the man’s home, that Gavin dared to release all the built-up tension.

‘Thank you.’

Richard looked up from where he had put away his shoes. ‘For what?’ ‘Everything. Being nice and caring. Picking me up to beeeeegin with. I think even if he did come b-b-b-back to get me, I wouldn’t want to go back with h-h-h-him.’ ‘You don’t have to thank me for that’, Richard sighed. ‘Maybe not. But I feeelt like I had to.’ ‘I understand’, he nodded. ‘What now?’

Gavin looked over at the table. ‘You still have to finish that puzzle, right? And maybe a m-m-m-movie afterwards?’ Richard smiled at him and Gavin really could get used to seeing that. ‘Sounds amazing. Let me just heat up Hank’s leftovers from yesterday and we can get right to it.’

[>next part]