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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Yours, Mine, and Ours [7] Finale

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, general sadness and shittiness.

This is dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You must face change.

Author Notes: I got another old series tied up and I’m editing the last chapter of another one as well. I’m trying to clear some stuff out as best I can.

A special thank you to everyone who reached out to me over the last few days. And extra thanks to @lokislastlove for always encouraging me.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

Masterlist

Bucky knelt beside you as your ass throbbed in pain and your head thrummed. He touched your arm gently with his metal hand, his other on your cheek as he cradled your face. You met his blue eyes but he quickly lifted his head and glared across the room.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll hit you again. Harder.” His snarl was so harsh and deep, it made you shiver. He turned his attention back to you as he helped you roll over and sit up, “Are you okay? Careful…” he backed off the bed slowly as he guided you to the end of the mattress.

You clung to him and glanced over at Steve as he spat blood onto the floor. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared as he looked back but he made no move towards you, his head lolling just slightly as he sat straight.

You let Bucky usher you to the door as he turned back and searched around the floor. He huffed and took off his jacket instead, draping it over your shoulders.

He pointed you through the door and followed, snatched the throw from the back of the couch and offered it as he urged you on. You found your purse where you dropped it and stopped to grab it, groaning at how your body ached. You continued to the door as he opened it and followed you out.

You were silent as you descended, cloaked in his jacket and the thin blanket. You came around the building and neared your car. He kept away from you but hovered as if you might keel over.

“I can’t drive,” you let your purse dangle weakly from your hand.

“I’ll take you back,” he said softly, “and then you don’t have to see me ever again.”

You nodded and rounded his car. You opened the door and slumped into the seat, your purse on your lap as you hung your head. It was over. You knew it was. You thought there would be a way to hold onto Steve, to find the man he had been, but he assured you that that Steve was gone. Everything you had was lost.

The engine turned and you barely noticed the blur of the city as it passed outside the windows. You fought against the wave of grief that swept over you and leaned your head back.

“You said I’ll never see you again,” you croaked, “but you saved me.”

“So? I did all those other things too,” he gripped the wheel and sniffed, “I’ll keep my distance. I started all this. I never should’ve-- I’m fucked. I try to act like I’m not but I am.”

“Bucky…” you said weakly.

“Don’t. I know it’s the truth and I know everything that happened to you is because of me. Steve’s an asshole. I don’t know what changed in him, but I’m worse,” he sighed, “I’m gonna resign. I’m gonna… look into rehab or therapy, whatever they got for me. I can’t stay near you or Steve. I can’t do any of it.”

You nodded and rubbed your hands together. Your body hurt but your soul hurt worse.

“No, I’m going,” you said, “I’m leaving. I’m not a hero like you or Steve. I don’t matter. And I can’t stay with him. I can’t even stay close because I know he won’t stay away. Right now, he’s getting up off that floor and you can’t tell me he’s not coming after us right now.”

Your voice cracked and you muffled it with a corner of the blanket. You hunched over as suddenly you felt nauseous and you held in a retch. Your body shook but you kept the sickness in and murmured.

“Please, just get me back,” you begged.

“I will,” he vowed, “I’ll make sure you get out and I’ll make sure he doesn’t stop you,” you heard him gulp between his words, “and after, if you ever need me to knock him on his ass again, I’ll be there. No strings, no expectations, we don’t even need to talk.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the door, watching the pedestrians and other cars. You could only think of everything that needed to be done; grab what you can, email Tony, go back and get your car and drive without stopping.

“Shit,” you sat up as you neared the compound, “I forgot my phone.”

“Good,” Bucky said, “he’s tracking it. Get a new one.”

👥

Bucky closed the yellow taxi door and watched the cab pull out into the swell of New York traffic. She’d packed the remnants of her former life in a single backpack but he could see, she didn’t even need that. He backed away from the curb and tucked his hands into his pockets. His chest was tight and heavy. He was guilty but he didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for her.

He was almost thrown off his feet as a hand gripped his arm and swung him around. Steve was white with anger as a vein popped out in his forehead. His lip was split and his nose bruised from Bucky’s fist. The men faced each other in mutual detest. He never expected to look at his oldest friend that way and feel it so succinctly.

“Where is she?” Steve growled.

Bucky shrugged and shouldered past him, “gone. Far from us.”

Steve followed him and stopped him before he could pass through the door. He shoved him back against the façade of the building but Bucky hardly felt it. He just stood, staring at the man he didn’t know any more, and lifted a brow.

“You gonna beat it out of me?” he asked, “then you’ll have to kill me.”

Steve’s eyes searched Bucky’s and he growled under his breath, “all you had to do was follow the fucking rules.”

“I never liked those rules. I only wanted to be close to her. It was selfish. It was abuse.”

“She liked it,” Steve snapped.

“No, you told her she liked it and she loved you so much, she believed you,” Bucky’s voice turned raw, “she loved you and you threw it all away.”

“You ruined it,” Steve accused.

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarled, “you deserve to be alone.”

“I’ll find her,” Steve curled his fingers into a fist and puffed his chest, “I know exactly where she’s going. She won’t get to her car before I do.”

“No, she will,” Bucky pushed away from the wall and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pinned him, “you won’t make it past me.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and his lips thinned. He gripped Bucky’s shirt in kind and the pair rolled against the wall until they stopped in a bitter stalemate. They stared each other down as their soles scuffed on the pavement and grunted almost in unison at their opponent.

“You won’t keep me from her forever,” Steve said calmly.

“She’s not the only one leaving, Steve,” Bucky hissed, “and I won’t feel bad at all when you wake up one day and realise how lonely you are.”

👥

Your new apartment was mostly empty but it was yours, unlike that seventh floor box Steve had made your cage. It was far from him, far from Bucky, far from everyone you ever knew. You knew you couldn’t hide with your parents or your sister or even those distant university friends who you knew would have your back. You had to be alone. It was your fear of that which got you into all that mess.

You didn’t see Bucky again but he did get a message to you. He left a gift for you at a safe house on your way out of the state. New identification, an unopened cell, and a wad of cash. It wasn’t atonement but it was what he could give you. You kept driving and exchanged your car at the stateline. You kept on until you felt as if you were in an entirely different country.

You took a job at the grocery store as a cashier. You remembered when you were a child and your mother had the same position. She went back to school and made you promise you’d never end up in the same boat. If she could see you now…

If you could see her.

You dropped your bag on the side table as you entered and turned the lock on the handle and the latch above, the deadbolt over that, and hooked the chain last. You clutched the pepper spray you kept up your sleeve and searched the single bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Your paranoia was your only companion.

You kept the curtains drawn day and night, even those stolid nights when you couldn’t sleep for the thick sweat that coated your body. Those nights came more often and even during the day, you found yourself suffocated in fits of unbearable heat. And at night, you were trapped by the dreams of the past.

You sat and opened up the novel you kept on the coffee table. When you’d been with Steve, you never had much time to read between his need for attention and your work. Your relocation was freeing in more ways than one.

You laid back and wiggled, still in your stiff grocery store uniform and lost yourself in the fantasy adventure of a young warrior. It was a fight you could control; that you could win.

👥

Bucky held the position and breathed out slowly. His muscles vibrated as he strained and slowly lifted his leg, the toes of his other foot firmly planted on the mat. He turned and outstretched his arm and leg to the ceiling and inhaled. He let out another breath as he reached the next position then returned to downward-facing dog.

He pushed himself back to sit on his knees as the noise of the lapping lake reached his ears and sent a cool breeze over the dock. He pulled his legs out from under him and bent his legs as he leaned his sweaty arms over his knees. He looked out at the glistening water and listened to the noise of birds and critters.

Peace. He couldn’t call it that. Exile, more like. He didn’t trust himself to be near people. His therapist visited once a week and he attended daily video sessions with him. One of his tasks was to find hobbies and to face himself. Yoga was both of those. It cleared his hand and ate up his time.

But then he found himself wishing she was there. He knew she wasn’t in some serene lake house, she didn’t have all the support offered by SHIELD and Stark, she didn’t have anyone. He did what he could, what she would accept from him, but there was nothing he could give her in that life that would ever be enough.

Then he felt awful about those thoughts. She was never his to have.

He stood and walked up the dock and the dirt path to the house. He climbed up onto the large deck and through sliding doors. He poured himself a glass of water and added a slice of lemon. He took it with him as he went to the bedroom where he slept alone, where the shadows of trees loomed over him in the night and swayed like the wraiths of his remorse.

The white cat hopped up on the bed and twirled in expectation, in demand of his attention. He scratched Alpine’s head as he neared and got a nip when he pet him a little too long. The moody feline retreated to the corner of the bed and watched him with his pale blue eyes. The creature was his only friend now.

He took a deep gulp and sat on the edge of the bed and set the glass down. He slid open the drawer of the hand-crafted night table and dipped his fingers inside. He pulled out the pink fabric and held them in his metal hand and stroked the dainty elastic. He should get rid of them, like he had the rest, but he just couldn’t. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t. He would never forget about her.

👥

You pushed the boxes and cans over the scanner and onto the next belt so that they were carried down to the end of the counter. You smiled as you asked the usual questions and waited for the customer to punch in their pin. You waved on the next in line as the former bagged their goods and you kept the distant tune playing from the low speakers in your head.

The routine was your only comfort. It was easy. Even when you got those fussy customers, the ones with the expired coupons or the wrong flyers, it was simple work. You rang them through and saw them off without concern. Their tantrums were not the worst you’d faced in your time.

When it was your time to clock out, you stopped by the café in the same plaza as the grocery store and ordered a tall iced tea. You came out with your purse on the arm that hid the pepper spray and made your way to the end of the pavement and around the corner to the street.

At the first corner, you turned off onto a small side street then cut through to the park and passed the memorials and statues set along the winding path. It was a longer walk than your normal route but you took it once a week. You liked to watch the ducks but you had to avoid the geese.

You sipped from your straw and smiled at a dog as he passed with his owner and looked over at the kids laughing on the monkey bars. Your uniform tented in the heat of the summer sun but you pressed on, refreshed by the fruity tea.

When you emerged from the park, the grit of the small town returned. The chipped bricks of your building rose above you and you unlocked the front door after a struggle with the ancient keyhole. The door closed heavily behind you and you headed up the dingy stairs.

As you got to your apartment, you went through the usual to-do; lock, search, and settle in. Two months, maybe three, it felt so long ago and yet it felt like only yesterday. You couldn’t help but feel watched, followed, and you knew that sensation would follow you for the rest of your life. But if it was only ever a thought, you could be okay.

👥

Steve didn’t know what to do with himself at first. First, his girl left and then his best friend.

In the early days of his solace, he told himself it wasn’t true. They’d be back. They couldn’t live without him. They would apologize because they betrayed him. They would realise that he wasn’t the villain. He wasn’t wrong. He busied himself with his missions and waited.

But after two weeks, he saw no signs, heard no tell, nothing. He tried to follow her trail but there wasn’t anything past the state line. He asked where Bucky went but Stark wouldn’t tell and SHIELD kept that information classified from all, even him.

Then, he felt bad and he lingered on those questions that tugged at his mind. Was he wrong? Was he the bad one? Had he really hurt them? Did he deserve it all? He felt awful and fell through on a mission and no one asked any questions. No one knew the reasons for the sudden departures and the downcast captain.

Then he was mad. He was breaking things. He was growling and shouting in frustration. He ripped a door off its hinges and punched a hole through a wall. He paid for the repairs but was told in no short terms to leave the compound. He was all too happy too. He still had that apartment and it wasn’t too bad being in his own space.

But it made him think of her. And as he thought of her, he missed another mission, this time without telling anyone. Phone calls, emails, knocks on his door, they all muddled together in the haze of his thoughts.

He remembered those days, decades ago when Bucky had been his only friend. When he was a boy, when he still felt young, when he still felt like him. He remembered everything that came after and how he fought to save the only man he ever admired. Then everything he’d made him do. He didn’t make him do that, he gave him exactly what he wanted.

Then she made his chest squeeze. He thought of the first time they met. He didn’t think much of her but she somehow won him over with her kindness. He recalled the realisation of how much he liked her, he wasn’t even reluctant enough not to think it was love in that instant. When she saw the loose stitch in his glove and pulled it away like it was nothing. She remarked on the little fix as ‘perfect’ and he couldn’t help his doofy grin and the line he spouted after, ‘not as perfect as you.’

And as he thought of her, he conjured all those hopes he had for them. The life he made for them in his mind. He was going to give it all to her but he just wanted a little fun first. That wasn’t so bad. He could still give it to her and that was all she wanted after all. She wanted the Steve she knew. She wanted the nuclear family and white picket fence. He wanted that too.

When the papers came to announce his dismissal from SHIELD, it felt like freedom. He didn’t care about saving the world anymore. He got out of bed these days and worked out, went for a run, and came back as he went about his own work. As he searched through the servers they tried to block him from and overrode the new restrictions. They always thought he was some clueless idiot from the past.

He could still have that life. All he had to do was find her. He smiled at the screen as he went over everything he had so far. The whiff of her blew out at the stateline but now he could go wherever he wanted without a leash. He could find her if he only tried a little harder.

👥

Steve gave notice on the lease and traded in his car for something with better mileage and more space. He sold everything that was his life before and headed out on the road with a new lease on life. He wasn’t the Captain anymore, he wasn’t the saviour, he only wanted to be one thing; a husband, a father, hers.

When he reached the state line, he stopped for a while at a motel and asked around. He had her picture and everyone was all too eager to talk to Steve Rogers. He found her car at a used dealership and got the plates and make of the one he’d switched her for. That was a start.

Then he moved on, stopping along the way for a day here and there to relax. He had time. He had confidence again. He did this everyday, this was her first time, she couldn’t outrun him forever. He had the skills and the savings to get him a lot further than she ever could.

He drove through several more states before he hit another block. A second car traded but the dealer was not as talkative. That meant he had to break in after dark and that was time he didn’t feel like spending on some stubborn bitch. But he got it done and moved on.

Then there was a week of doubt and desperation. What if he was wrong? What if this was all a part of her plan? Maybe she was smart enough to lead him in the wrong direction. Maybe Bucky was helping her. Maybe they were together. That thought made him livid.

He took off in the opposite direction but ended up with nothing but desert heat and rural nothingness. He turned around and assured himself that neither of them were smarter than him. He returned to the same point and slowly pieced together the clues until he was sure enough to keep on.

He was getting close. He could sense it. He pulled out his phone and opened those videos he’d taken from Bucky and the pictures of that day they’d made a mess of her. His hand was nothing compared to her and even if he came, he found himself dissatisfied. He ended up cursing only to start again a minute later.

That night he started in the bed then ended up in the shower and before he could get out of the bathroom, he was gripping his dick as he leaned on the counter and muttered her name over and over. He was impatient. He needed her soon or he was going to go mad.

He hardly slept as he tossed and turned in the hotel room. He checked out early but pulled over on the country road to get off again. It made him angry. She should be the one fucking him, he shouldn’t be using his own hand. He shouldn’t be alone. She should be there with his dick down her throat as he drove them to their suburban paradise.

He passed another city sign and spent a day running circles without a catch. He pressed on through the night, not wanting another motel bed, and pulled in at a station just outside a small town. He gassed up and chewed on jerky as he set out once more.

On a whim, he stopped in the small town and stopped for a meal at the local fish and chip place. It was unusual for the area but the fries were crispy and not overly salted and the fish breaded perfectly. He kept his hat on and his face down. He didn’t need to be recognized although his poor disguise seemed to draw attention.

“Louise,” the voice chimed with the bell, “gosh, I’m so sorry, I almost forgot.”

Steve looked up as his heart fluttered. He saw the green uniform shirt and black pants and at first, he was ready to deflate. But the way she walked, and her face, the way she glowed and smiled at the woman behind the till, he knew it was her. He’d found her.

“I am so stupid! I keep forgetting everything,” she counted out the money from her wallet, “I’ve been craving this all week and I’m halfway home and I’m like oh my god,” she chattered on, that way she did when they’d first met.

“Not at all, darlin’,” Louise handed her the parcel of fish and chips, “you go on enjoy.”

“Thank you!” she sang sweetly and scurried back through the door.

Steve stood slowly and left his tab on the table with a thoughtlessly generous tip. He adjusted his cap and headed out the door slowly. She wasn’t moving as fast as she made her way down the street. She swung the tied parcel from her hand and he noticed how her hips swayed. There was something different about her, something he liked.

He kept the same pace, sure to hang back so that she didn’t notice him. She led him through a park and she stopped to smile at a party of ducks in the small pond. She carried on over the small bridge and he sat on a bench when she looked back. She didn’t seem to notice as an older couple passed him and he hid behind them.

He got back up just as she was at the exit. He trailed her back to the streets and to an old brick building with an iron sign above the front door. She let herself in and he stood outside with a smirk.

“Perfect,” he said to himself as he backed away and strode down the sidewalk, “always so perfect for me.”

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solinarimoon · 3 years

Text

Fields of Wildflowers, Chapter 12

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 12

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: My timeline for events during the siege in Winchester is different from the show. I almost combined this chapter with the events for the next one but they would have been too long. The moodbaord was made for me by the lovely @serasvictoria. You can find my master list here.

Warnings: Trauma from past rape.

Word Count: 3666

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight days. Cwen and Eadith had been inside the walls of Winchester for eight days. Without any success in finding their people.

The ladies had been able to narrow down the possibilities and were almost entirely certain they were being held somewhere in the palace.

It had been relatively simple to slip in among the kitchen maids and find odd jobs and help that was needed there. A large Danish woman, Frig had taken over commanding the kitchens and she barked orders around to anyone who would take them.

When asked where they had come from or who they were, Eadith would reply that they were former kitchen maids for a saxon lord and only sought to be of use to avoid being taken as a slave.

Various of the other women in the kitchens had similar stories, seeking to avoid becoming a Dane’s property so instead found usefulness in the kitchens. Quiet, useful, and out of the way.

This was how both women found themselves bringing stale bread and water to the armory.

The jail cells at the armory were full with low born Saxon’s now to be sold as slaves.

Cwen and Eadith had quite the time ferreting their way around there to discreetly check faces and make general inquiries.

“They haven't put any royals in here with the likes of us, girl.”

The old crone had shifted her eyes up and down, taking in Cwen’s appearance.

“You’re quite lovely. Don’t look like you’ve had too much wear and tear on ya. Haven’t needed to live the hard life have you, missy?”

The woman’s words were cruel and her tone scornful.

Cwen shifted her gaze towards Eadith who was speaking to another prisoner down the hall, “nor her neither. What are you even doing in here? Asking about this for?”

Cwen searched for an answer to the woman’s prying.

“I… we…” she stammered feeling herself begin to panic.

“We need to be going. We’re wanted back in the kitchen before long,” Eadith swooped in to take Cwen’s arm.

Leading her friend away from the woman’s hard stare, Eadith quieted her friend's worries.

“It will be alright. That old woman was just being rude. She doesn’t know anything about us. Not a threat. It’s ok.”

Cwen sighed, frustrated. “I know. And we shouldn’t need to go back to the cells any longer now we know they’re not there. But still, she could tell someone we have been asking questions. That two kitchen maids are nosing about. Then they figure out it is two imposter kitchen maids.”

Cwen sighed, scanning their path for watchful eyes as they walked before she continued. “Did anyone you spoke with seem to have any ideas where they might be keeping them?”

“One man told me his lips might release information if they were reminded what a kiss felt like…”

Cwen stopped in her tracks to look at Eadith with a shocked expression. As her shock faded, both women let out loud guffaws, feeling some of the tension and worry ease from their shoulders.

They continued their walk towards the kitchens in the rear of the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The women slowly walked the perimeter of Winchester, looking for any sign of a way in, not guarded or any news of the location of their friends.

The weather had grown hotter in the past week since they had gone inside the walls.

Most of the inhabitants of the town were finding shelter underneath roofs and in shade to try and stay cool. Tensions had been building and occasionally Cwen and Eadith would see squabbles break out among the bored and sweaty Danes.

“So Cwen,” Eadith started as they slowly meandered along the wall, “was Sihtric not happy with you for coming with me into the city?”

Cwen stopped in a huff, placing her hands on her hips and looking at the ground before meeting Eadith’s eyes.

“No. He was not. But…,” pausing, Cwen shifted on her feet and searched for the words.

“But…?” Eadith prodded.

The women continued their route, eyes scanning the wall before Cwen found the words she wished to speak.

“It was odd. When I said I could not sit by and do nothing, his reply was to say that may be better than doing something foolish. His words were harsh. His tone, I mean. But so were my own. I pulled away from him. But he did not argue further. Made no pleas. Just gave me a knife and showed me how to use it.”

“Would you rather he had argued? Made more of a fight against our plan?” Eadith had stopped to look down an alley before looking forward and taking more steps to catch back up with Cwen.

The question caught Cwen off guard.

The way that they had left, with the last words spoken between them being bitter and harsh had been weighing heavy on Cwen’s heart.

“In truth,” Cwen looked at Eadith as she caught back up with her, “I do not know what to think about it. On the one hand, yes. I wish he had fought with me. Argued with me. But it would not have changed anything. I would have still come. So maybe I am glad he did not?” Cwen’s voice questioned the thoughts running through her own mind. “I think he knew his words would not change my mind. So is that not better then? That we did not argue, say things that are hurtful only to then be separated?” Cwen looked to her friend for some guidance.

“Possibly. But now you are left with this weight hanging over you. As I am sure he is too. Are there words that have been left unsaid, Cwen?”

Cwen did not immediately reply. Instead the friends continued walking in silence.

Suddenly, a loud commotion resounded to their right at the north gate of the city.

Cwen and Eadith ran along to meet a cross street seeing Danes come from across the city to meet the sound.

Shouts could be heard from many of the passing men, “It is their king!” “It is Edward!”

Cwen glanced at Eadith to see the woman staring at the tumult.

She placed her hand on her friend’s arm, “Now is our chance, Eadith!”

Her words startled Eadith and she turned to look at Cwen.

“Chance?”

“To slip inside the palace, try to find them.”

“You mean while everyone is distracted by this attack?”

“That is exactly what I mean. Let’s go.”

They slipped through the side streets, avoiding the wave of movement towards the gate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Using the kitchen entrance, Cwen and Eadith followed along corridors, glancing in rooms and keeping eyes out for any sign of a room being guarded.

Cwen sighed when they rounded a corner to find another long hallway with no guards.

“Why do they need so many hallways!” Eadith grumbled.

“We’re going to run out of time,” Cwen worried. “Wait! Oh I should have thought of this first! We need to check the chapel! I bet that is where they would hold them!”

“Why there?” Eadith questioned as Cwen began leading the way along another corridor.

“For one, it is situated near the center of the palace so they’d not easily be able to slip out.”

“Or us slip in, I imagine then.”

“Yes, unfortunately. And then two, it would be rather upsetting to be held captive and have lost Winchester only to deal with that while literally staring Alfred in the face.”

Eadith watched Cwen, expectantly as they marched along.

“Alfred’s entombed there. His remains are enshrined.”

“Oh,” the redhead nodded in understanding.

Their footsteps echoed as Cwen navigated old passages from her girlhood.

Rounding a corner, they stopped short seeing a lone guard leaning against the wall across from a large door.

They slowed their pace as they approached, Cwen whispering, “That is the chapel. They must be in there. Follow my lead.”

“Hey, what are you two doing here?”

The Dane’s voice was rough, clearly surprised to see the two women approaching him.

“Oh, we were sent to collect the tray and plates from the prisoners. See if they need more water. Frig sent us. From the kitchens. But what are you still doing here?” Cwen questioned the man, not a note of uncertainty in her voice.

The guard stared at Cwen and Eadith, clearly not understanding the woman’s final question.

“And where should I be, if not here on duty?”

“Well everyone, all the men are rushing to the north gate. We heard something about all men needing to assemble. That Edward was here and mounting an attack on the walls. I just assumed any man, any warrior would have gone. Apologies.”

Just at that moment, another Dane appeared on the opposite end of the hallway, marching at a quick pace.

“Leiv, Edward’s at the gate! We’ve got to go!”

“But the prisoners,” the guard, Leiv, protested. His nose had wrinkled and he gestured in frustration towards the doorway across from him.

“They’re locked in tight. And they don’t have anywhere to go. Come on!”

Groaning and clearly conflicted, Leiv pointed his finger at Cwen, “If you need to get their plates, you’re going to have to come back later. Door’s locked and it’s staying that way until I get back.”

With that final word, Leiv ran off to join his friend down the hall. Within a few seconds they were gone, out of earshot.

Cwen and Eadith glanced at each other before moving to stand in front of the doorway.

“Aethelstan! Lady Aelswith! Stiorra! Are you in there? Can you hear us?”

They waited. Then after several moments, they heard something on the other side.

Muffled and hard to understand, but clearly a response.

“We’re going to have to be loud to hear anything through that heavy wood,” placing her hand against the door, Eadith chewed her bottom lip. “I’ll go to the end of the hall and keep watch. They’ll want to be speaking to you,” She placed her hand on Cwen’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze before moving along the way Leiv and his friend had disappeared.

Cwen watched her friend retreat before she turned back to the door. Scanning the door before her, she crouched down to peer at the keyhole.

“Hello! Lady Aelswith? It’s Cwen! Eadith and I are here.”

“Yes, yes we’re here. Cwen! Thank God. Thank you, God!”

Cwen rested her forehead on the door and breathed a sigh of relief before she brought her mouth back, close to the keyhole once more.

“Are you alright? We’ve been looking all over for you. Uhtred and his men are outside the walls of the city.”

“Yes, Cwen. We’re fine. Our feathers are ruffled and these heathen brutes insist on demeaning and belittling us. But we are alright. But Cwen,” Aelswith paused.

Cwen strained her ears to listen.

“They took Stiorra.”

Cwen froze as she felt the breath catch in her throat.

Shaking her head, Cwen managed to pant out, “took...took her? What? Where? Where did they take Stiorra?”

Lady Aelswith’s voice came back tight and measured. “We don’t know where they took her. Lord Aethelred’s man, Eardwulf is here. With the Danes. He recognized her and told them she is Uhtred’s daughter. So they took her and put us in here.”

A pulsating buzzing sound began to rise in Cwen’s ears. She stepped back from the door staring but not seeing.

She was startled back to her senses by Eadith running to her side.

“I'm starting to hear people. We need to move.”

Cwen stared for one more second before she shook her head and brought her mouth back to the keyhole. “We have to go. But we will try to get back and check on you all. And we’ll find her.”

Eadith took Cwen’s arm and the two women quickly retraced their steps back to the kitchens.

“Find her?” The hushed question left Eadith’s lips as soon as they rounded the corner of the hall.

“Stiorra. They know she is Uhtred’s daughter. They separated her from the others.”

“So we’ve found Aethelstan and Lady Aelswith but now we have no idea where Stiorra may be?”

“That’s right. But Eadith,” Cwen paused, placing her hand on the friend’s arm to slow her. “Your brother is here. He recognized Stiorra. He gave her up to the Danes.”

“Eardwulf is here?” Eadith grasped onto Cwen’s hand holding her arm..

Taking a shaking breath, Cwen met Eadith’s eyes and nodded.

“Alright,” Eadith spoke while formulating what their next course of action should be. “Alright, we’ve found two of our three people. Now we must continue the search but remain even more hidden unless my brother find us. Do you have any ideas where Stiorra might be?”

“No. And I don’t dare keep looking right now. We have to try again another time.”

“Let us return to the kitchens then and figure out a plan.”

The two women continued on to the kitchens where they casually made themselves useful amongst the other kitchen maids.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a few days later when the chance arose for one of them to find Stiorra. The Dane woman in charge of the kitchens barked an order out at Cwen, who happened to be closest to her, that Sigtryggr had ordered food and ale be brought to the prisoner girl being held in the war room.

Cwen immediately knew the girl must be Stiorra, but had no idea what room the war room would be.

Carefully, she questioned the woman further. “Pardon, but which room is the war room? I've not brought that prisoner food yet.”

“It’s the room with all the scrolls and maps. Large room at the end of the hall in the south corridor. Now get to it, girl.”

Cwen grabbed the tray of food and ale jug while making sure she caught Eadith’s eye.

Eadith had been pulled into kneading dough for the next day’s bread. Cwen gave her a short nod before leaving the room.

It must be King Alfred’s old study. It was in the south corridor and had mountains of scrolls and books. Cwen mused to herself as she walked the halls.

When Cwen found the room, the set of double doors was closed, but not latched. One door easily swung open when Cwen pushed on it with her hip.

A young woman was sat at a long table facing away from the door, most of her long brown hair hanging down her back while some of it was piled at the back of her head in braids.

Hearing the door and Cwen’s footsteps, Stiorra turned and then gasped with shock to see her friend.

Quickly, Cwen placed her tray down and embraced the young girl.

“Oh thank the Lord I have found you,” pushing Stiorra back by the shoulders, Cwen took in her appearance, looking for any sign of distress or maltreatment.

“Are you well? Why have they separated you from the others? We’ve been looking for days.”

“We? Who has been looking?” Stiorra questioned.

“Eadith and I,” Cwen replied. “But are you alright?” Raising her voice to talk over the older woman, Stiorra spoke, “I’m ok, Cwen. Really, I am. They’ve treated me kindly. Sigtryggr removed me from the others so he could speak with me freely. He has treated me well.” She finished with a small smile.

Cwen, albeit shocked, smiled back and embraced Stiorra once more. “Your father and his men are outside.” “And Edward too. I know,” Stiorra interrupted Cwen once more.

When Cwen stared at her questioningly, Stiorra replied, “Sigtryggr has told me. He does not tell me all things, but,” smirking again, Stiorra continued, “we talk often.”

Cwen searched her friend’s face and saw no lie or hesitation. “I am glad to hear it. The others, I fear, are not treated as kind. Whenever the walls are breached, know that your father will find you. We will find you.”

“I do not think Sigtryggr wants a fight, Cwen!”

“What do you mean he does not want a fight? He has besieged us and…”

“Sigtryggr is different, Cwen. He thinks. He wants to understand Saxons. I think he wants to be at peace with them.”

Cwen scoffed, “Well this is a strange way to go about bringing peace.”

Stiorra chuckled lightly while taking a seat, pulling Cwen to sit alongside her on the bench.

“I know, but would Edward have sat down with him before this?” When Cwen did not reply, because the answer was obvious, Stiorra continued, “I believe he wishes for land to settle and a peace to be reached. He is trying to do something good for his people. He does not seem to seek glory.”

“Such is your assessment of him?” Cwen asked. Seeing Stiorra nod, Cwen paused to observe Stiorra once more. “And he has treated you well. I can see it. And I am glad, my dear.” Cwen rose to stand and Stiorra rose with her.

“Now I must go before I am missed. Eadith and I are here. One of us will try to come back in a day or two to see you again. Stay safe, Stiorra.”

“I am, Cwen,” Stiorra spoke while hugging Cwen once more tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three days since Cwen had rejoiced with Eadith after finding Stiorra and learning she was safe.

Another opportunity to speak with any of their companions had not presented itself though. Cwen and Eadith had needed to be content with helping out in the kitchens and continuing to look for weaknesses from within the walls.

It happened while scouting along the southeast corridor for the third time. Cwen’s hair at the nape of her neck had stood on end and her heartbeat had become erratic before her eyes had even registered what they were seeing.

That pulsing buzz returned to her ears and she had to sink back around a corner and slide down a wall, clutching at her legs and pulling them close.

Luckily Eadith had been several paces behind Cwen and saw her collapse in fear.

Dropping to her friend’s side, she did not even have time to ask what had happened before Cwen was clutching at her and whispering, “Hide. We must hide.”

“Hide? From what?” Eadith replied in equal tones of panic.

“Eardwulf. He comes this way.”

At that moment, footsteps and a lone voice became more pronounced approaching from the street.

“Come,” Eadith clutched at Cwen’s arms and stood, pulling her to stand and turn, abruptly walking back the way they had come. “Come now, just walk away. That is all.”

Cwen allowed herself to be led away, but her breathing became more ragged.

“He has not seen us. We are just two more souls walking the streets. Keep moving and breathe, Cwen. We have to breathe.”

Eadith had begun talking to herself as much as to Cwen.

They did not stop until they reached the courtyard outside of the kitchens where they both sat against the wall of the palace. Crouched small and low. Breathing hard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Cwen dreamed while she and Eadith lay huddled together in a small alcove of the kitchens.

She dreamed she was back in the fields outside of Saltwic.

The golden and orange yarrow were waving in the breeze and purple and blue coneflowers joined the dance. Small insects flitted about in the setting sunlight. Dusky shadows were slowly stretching their arms across the field.

A man was standing watch over her, his shoulders broad and his feet firmly planted. His head continually turning and searching, scanning the surrounding woods.

Sihtric turned to meet Cwen as she approached him, leaning her body into his and gripping tightly to his tunic. Her fingers fisting into the material, Cwen felt her teeth grind together and her shoulders tense. Her brow furrowed.

Turning her face up to look at him, Cwen could not hear a sound. His lips were moving and he was speaking to her but the sounds never made it to Cwen’s ears. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

The crease between Cwen’s brow deepened and she began shaking her head, pushing on Sihtric’s chest.

He brought both of his hands up to gently hold her neck and Cwen stilled as Sihtric rested his forehead against her own.

The gesture, one that was so intimate, so meaningful for Sihtric, would usually bring her peace. Calm the raging bird, beating against the cage in her chest.

But this time, the dread and insecurity did not dissipate.

Cwen pulled back to find his eyes.

But was met with the dark, menacing eyes of Eardwulf.

His face was haggard and whiskers grew on his cheeks. His eyes held the most danger. They were tormented. And they held anger.

Cwen felt the hands at her neck slowly shift to grasp her throat.

Eardwulf sneered through his teeth as he choked the life from her body.

Cwen’s sobs woke Eadith and the woman shook her friend awake, cradling her and whispering soothing words while feeling her friend shiver.

It took a long time before Cwen was able to regain control over her breathing and allow her body to relax. Sleep did not come easy for the remaining hours of the night.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the last kingdom #sihtric #fanfiction #fields of wildflowers #sihtric x oc #sihtric kjartanson #tlk sihtric

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years

Text

Familiar Cerulean Eyes- Part 7

Click here for other parts! Part 8 is up.

Warnings: Mention of attempted rape, some fighting and the aftermath. This whole part is Dabi’s point of view of the last chapter and then also the direct aftermath. Also Shoto finds out Dabi has Y/N.

Word Count: 2.7 K

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears @emilymikado @fluidfandoms @gotagan @mikasackrmann

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The last thing that Dabi wanted to deal with right now was this stupid mission, but he knew that the faster he got this done, the faster he could get back to you. Not to mention it was important, at least according to Shigaraki.

Dabi had finished everything but his last task, the one that he needed Kurogiri for. After staking out this hideout for two days, they finally were ready to move in and get the supplies and get rid of the annoying competition. It was a smaller faction of villains, if you could even call them that. Low level thugs really. Shigaraki had given Dabi the orders of disposing of anyone who didn’t want to join the cause and to take the supplies they had been looting. It was a simple mission. The only problem was that this particular location wasn’t exactly hidden in the ghetto’s of Japan. This group had set up shop using a soba shop as a cover. A restaurant that was a little too out in the open for Dabi’s liking.

It was late, almost closing time, no one was out in the street except one or two stragglers leaving work for the night. Kurogiri had stayed with Dabi, ready to move in, for the last hour and a half. Both of them watching from the shadows to make sure the coast was clear. With a swift nod from Dabi, they both moved in.

It had taken only a couple minutes, Kurogiri warping the supplies out first, allowing for Dabi to wreck havoc on the members of the opposing group with his fire, Kurogiri returning quickly to help finish everyone off.

They only had one person left, a sobbing mess of an omega who was desperately begging for his life, chirping wildly.

“Can’t we just kill him? He’s making so much noise.” Dabi was over this. He just wanted to get out of here.

“No Dabi,” Kurogiri sighed, exasperated by the annoyed alpha. All he had done was complain the entire time. Kurogiri wanted this mission done with as soon as possible so that the hormonal alpha could just go back to his omega and calm down. “They could have information as to where the rest of the group is hiding, this wasn’t everyone judging by your reports.”

“Fine, then let’s get them out of here before every alpha in a five mile radius shows up to save the day.” Dabi rolled his eyes, turning to Kurogiri only to be shoved out of the way just in time to avoid being trapped in ice, a grumpy looking half and half brat glaring at the trio from 30 ft away.

“Hero’s are on the way, I would suggest giving u-“ The two toned eyes went wide, sniffing the air a growl releasing from his throat. “Why do you smell like her..”

Dabi could feel a smirk forming on his face. Hero’s were on the way huh? He better make this quick.

“Kurogiri, get the omega out of here. I’ve got this one.”

“As you wish.”

Once the two alpha’s were alone, they started to circle each other. Dabi had wondered how long it would take for your precious little alpha to finally show up. He was shocked it had taken the brat this long to track him down.

“Where’s daddy at little kid? I don’t think you should be out this late on a school night”

Ice narrowly grazed dabi’s cheek, he was faster than the little twirp, he had more experience, it didn’t change the fact that the youngest Todoroki had a stronger quirk.

But Dabi’s fire burned hotter, and he knew just how to get under his littlest brother’s skin.

“You know, for the son of such a strong and prominent alpha, you really don’t know how to protect what’s yours.”

Ice shot forward on Dabi’s other side, caging him in place, slicing his leg open, a thin line of blood seeping out. Dabi barely felt it.

“Come on baby Todoroki, you didn’t think you could just leave such a pretty omega to fend for herself and no one would snatch her up, did you? You barely even scented her, Did you even want her?”

“Shut up!” The younger alpha growled, steam coming off of his body as he fought to keep the fiery temper at bay. He needed to trap the villain. To get him to talk. To get him to tell him where you were. He felt like such an idiot, thinking you had run off on your own, finally escaping his horrible father. He had hoped you had used to market as a distraction, running off to start a new life somewhere where no one knew you belonged to the Todoroki family, where you could finally make your own decisions. Instead he had let his guard down, and you had been caught by the league of villains of all people. He couldn’t even imagine how awful they had been treating you this entire time. He wasn’t even sure you were alive. He couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t let himself consider that option.

“Where is she!”

“Probably warming my bed, waiting for me to come home and show her what a real alpha is like.”

Shoto unleased the flames, melting the ice around him as he lashed out at Dabi, a snarl ripping through his throat. Dabi easily dogged, taunting him as his own flames manifested as well, easily over taking Shoto’s as he fought his way closer to the younger alpha.

They finally were right on top of each other, both of the alpha’s throwing their fists into the other, using their quirks to their advantage. Shoto wasn’t used to this close of range of fighting, not the way that Dabi was. Still he managed to hit Dabi in his jaw, using ice to harden his fist. The impact split apart the skin on Dabi’s lip, bruising his already purple toned skin immediately. Dabi had a feeling he was going to look rough after this. Still he pressed on, gripping the young Todoroki in a headlock, briefly reminiscing on a time where he had done this exact move on the younger boy in a playfight as kids. Shoto attempted to use his right side to freeze Dabi in place, but Dabi’s fire was burning too hot and it was all Shoto could do to regulate his own temperature as not to get burned. The ice was just melting too quickly.

Dabi pressed a little harder on the younger male’s throat, just wanting to cut off his air supply enough that he would black out. He didn’t want to kill his little brother, but he couldn’t just walk away either. His alpha was antagonizing him, enticing him to show the other alpha just who was stronger.

“She’s mine now, little Shoto.”

Kurogiri warped back in front of the two alpha’s, ready to warp Dabi out of there.

Shoto’s vision was just starting to go dark when the sound of a radio chirped, screaming sobs slicing through the air, hushing everyone. You sounded completely and utterly terrified. Broken. Shoto expected you to be calling out for him, to beg him to come and save you, but his name wasn’t the one you were calling out for.

Dabi dropped Shoto faster than he had ever moved in his life, lunging for Kurogiri, grabbing him by the shirt snarling in his face.

“Take me to her, NOW.”

Shoto barely got a breath into his lungs, forcing himself to his feet, running at full speed towards the warp desperately trying to get to you. He was too slow, the two villains disappearing into the night like they were never there. Leaving Shoto bruised and a little bit charred, a broken howl leaving his lips.

He was going to find you, and he was going to save you. Like the hero you deserved.

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Dabi was warped into the room to find you caged down underneath Compress, his dick out, ready to push into you, his alpha’s fangs pressing just above your empty bond mark ready to bite down. Compress didn’t even have time to react, Dabi immediately setting the entire room up in bright blue flames, the most vicious of snarls leaving his lips as he gripped him by the shirt yanking him off of you and shoving him against the wall.

Compress was screaming, the fire licking against his skin, as Dabi held him by the throat, squeezing the life out of him, slamming his head repeatedly against the wall. Kurogiri stepped in as quickly as he could, barely separating the alpha’s causing Dabi to lunge at him as well, only for Kurogiri to warp himself and Compress out of the room.

It took Dabi several tries to get the fire to go out, the adrenaline in his veins forcing his alpha on edge making him loose control of his quirk. One look at your battered and half naked form, zooned out like you were on drugs had him loosing it all over again as he let out a string of curses. It was only when he saw the edge of the fur blanket that was peeking out from where you had drug it under your form while searching for the walkie-talkie was on fire did he finally get a control on his temper, smothering the fire. He’d have to get you a new blanket. Hell he would have to get you a whole mansion filled with blankets to even come close to making this up to you, and he would, he would do anything.

He dropped down to your side, petting your hair back from your face his hand shaking, watching as tears streamed down your blank expression. Your hair was matted with blood, and it seemed like the wound wasn’t stopping. He needed to get you medical attention. He knew in cases like this he needed to keep you awake. You probably had a concussion.

He lifted you in his arms slowly, careful to keep from jolting you too much as he spoke down to you, desperately wishing for a response.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Come on baby talk to me.”

You were still breathing, though it was shallow. It took a couple seconds but you eyes fluttered and you looked at him, the most dazzed expression on your face, your voice barely a whisper.

“Touya? … I had the weirdest dream..”

“Y/N hang on, stay awake for me princess, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He brushed away the tears on your face, glaring up at the camera shouting for Kurogiri to get his ass in here before turning back to you.

“You had died…. And I got kidnapped…. And then…” You’re voice broke, and your eyes fluttered shut again. He had to keep you awake.

“Touya it was a nightmare.”

“No, no no no, Don’t go to sleep yet, princess come on wake up.” He wasn’t sure if you could hear him anymore.

“Kurogiri!”

You let out the smallest of whimper’s. He knew you were in pain, he couldn’t do anything about it right now though. He didn’t have the key to get out of this room. If Kurogiri didn’t hurry the fuck up he was going to kill him.

“Touya...please don’t leave me.”

“Never, princess, never again. I promise. Please just stay awake a little longer. Please.”

Finally, Kurogiri warped back into the room whisking the two off you out of there and straight to Dabi’s room at the compound, your slack body being carefully lowered onto the bed, covering your half naked body with the remainder of the singed fur blanket. The two males immediately getting to work on wrapping your head and treating your wounds with the medical supplies they had. Dabi knew it would probably be best if you went to a hospital, but there wasn’t any way to get you over to one.

He pulled his phone out, sending a quick text to the only healer he knew that might work with them. They weren’t reliable, and often charged ridiculous prices, but he didn’t care. They were the best chance he had right now.

You had grown unresponsive and he was stressed out. The alpha inside half begging him to fix the situation, half demanding he go find Compress and finish the job. Still he stayed by your side, watching your even breathing, checking every couple minutes to make sure your pulse was still strong.

After about ten minutes his phone went off, the healer advising of her location so Kurogiri could warp her here. As soon as she arrived the hot headed omega let out a string of curses in her native tongue of russian, getting up in Dabi’s face angrily.

“How could you let your omega get hurt like this you dumb oaf.” She turned away from him, turning her attention to the passed out omega in the room. The blonde haired Russian eye’s immediately softened as she looked at the beat up omega. Her hands reaching out soothing the hair on the your head, before she carefully rolled you over, unbandaging the gash, placing her hand above it, staples shooting out and closing the wound. She quickly and expertly wrapped your head back up before moving the blanket and peeking under it, eyes turning to Dabi with rage.

“What were you doing that got her hurt?” Another string of curses left her lips and Dabi held his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t do this, Anna! I came back and fucking Compress was trying to force her into a bond! Fucker is lucky he is alive right now!”

This placated the Russian slightly, instead of ripping Dabi’s head off she shoed him to turn around, along with Kurogiri while she pulled back the blanket, searching your body for any other issues. When she pulled your shirt up a soft gasp left her lips causing Dabi to turn and look. Your stomach was bruised purple. He had hit you with something. Dabi guessed his cane. The sight of it made Dabi’s temper rise up all over again, the room getting hot.

Finishing up the Russian turned back to Dabi after covering you again, a frown on her face as she looked at the alpha.

“She’s not bonded? I thought you said she was yours?”

Dabi looked sheepish for once, scratching his head as he looked down at you.

“Not yet…Is she going to be okay?”

“She will be fine… probably confused out of her mind when she wakes up. She might have a little bit of memory loss, but if what you say is true.. I don’t think that will be a bad thing. The staples should do their job and help speed up the healing and numb the pain.. let’s get you patched up too while I’m here.”

“Don’t worry about it, Anna. I just want help for her.”

“Well I’m not leaving until she wakes up. So sit down and shut up while I patch you.”

Dabi sighed nodding at Kurogiri that it was okay to leave the room. Sitting down on the edge of his bed carefully, stripping himself of his shirt and rolling up his pant’s leg to show off what cuts and bruises he had obtained in his earlier fight. None of them were bad enough to need the use of her quirk, but she still used her medical kit to patch him up just the same before moving on to check on the already existing staples on his body.

“She’s pretty… are you sure she’s here willingly? I don’t know what omega would want to be with you.” Dabi could hear the teasing in her voice and ignored the question. He didn’t want to explain himself to the other omega.

After she finally finished checking everything she gave him back his shirt, taking a seat across the room in one of the two chairs that Kurogiri had brought in for them, pulling out her phone and responding to a message which Dabi assumed by the smirk on her face that it was from her Alpha.

Dabi watched your sleeping form for a couple minutes, just wanting to pull you tight in his arms, but he didn’t want to hurt you on accident, so instead he just sat in the other chair, pulling it close to the bed, leaning his head down on the blanket gripping your hand lightly rubbing your knuckles between his fingers. He wouldn’t leave your side, not again, not with you like this.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

742 notes · View notes

dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: A long one because it was a fun one. My absolute favorite chapter!

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, rape, blood and violence

Word Count: 6135

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Six: The Breakfast Club

“What are you thinking about?”

“H-Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling for the first time today. What are you thinking about?”

“...Stan.”

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Apparently, I had slept through all of my alarms because when I awoke the next day, it was almost nine. Cursing aloud, I sprang out of bed and zoomed to my closet, ripping out any clothes I could find. Not having time to pull together something totally retro as per usual, I threw on a maroon hoodie, wedged into blue skinny jeans, and slipped on my white sneakers. I applied deodorant and stuck a piece of gum into my mouth before slinging my backpack on. The school was a fifteen-minute walk from my house. I was going to be so fucking late. I was skipping every other step on my way downstairs when I heard a voice call out to me.

“Whoa, you’re still here?”

On my right was Jacob, sitting in the living room and watching television. He stood from the couch and slowly approached me with a smirk. “What are you doing here still?”

“What are you doing here still?”

“I don’t have classes today, Bug,” He lightly teased before gently pushing me towards the door. “Let’s go before you miss anymore school. Hopefully, you don’t get detention.”

“I won’t, Jake.”

I did. As soon as I opened the door to my English class, all eyes were on me like a newcoming circus act. Ms Anderson’s eyes cut to me the second I stepped in and before I knew it, she was stomping towards me, gently ushering me out of the room with her. When we were alone, she crossed her arms and stared down at me. I felt like a child getting scolded for breaking an expensive vase or something. “(Y/N), this is your fourth tardy this month.”

“I know…”

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

There are so many things I need to talk about.

“No… I just… um… I-It’s been a rough few days…”

“Well, I would let this slide, but I’ve already broken the rules twice for you. I’m sorry, dear, but I’m going to have to give you detention. Okay?”

Dammit, Jake… “Okay, fine. Can I just go back to class now?” I sighed. My teacher nodded and opened the door for me. Stepping inside, I was met with the smiles of Dina, Stan and Ricky all directed towards me. I returned the smiles towards my two friends before taking my seat beside Dina. Throughout class, two eyes bore into the back of my head, and I tried my best not to turn and look at who they belonged to. He was catching on. On my way to choir, I heard Ricky calling out to me. He was pushing and shoving past students until he was by my side.

“Babe, what’s been going on with you?” He gently nudged me, but my eyes stayed trained forward. “Oh, so the silent treatment… Are you gonna tell me what I did or am I gonna have to figure it out?” Silence. “Right, okay. I get it. Hey, listen, when you’re out of your bitchy mood, make sure to come talk to me.” And with that, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Letting out a breath, I slowed my pace along with the beat of my heart. I never wanted anyone to dictate the way I felt, the way my anxiety sky-rocketed when they were around. But it seemed I was letting Ricky do everything to me.

When lunchtime rolled around, I wanted nothing more than to eat my first meal of the day. All throughout English and choir, my stomach had been curling into itself and I felt stupid for not at least grabbing a granola bar before I left home. After grabbing my food, I joined Stan at a near-vacant lunch table. He had been mindlessly picking at his lunch when I sat across from him. “Good afternoon, beautiful.” I whispered. Hearing my voice, he didn’t need to look up.

“Hey, (Y/N)...”

“(Y/N)? Whoa, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, it’s just Syd. She won’t talk to me…”

A pang of jealousy went through my heart. Knowing we’d never talk about our kiss the other night didn’t prevent my wave of disappointment whenever he mentioned Sydney. I mean, how do you even kiss a girl and then talk about a totally different one days later? As much as I love Stan, he could be an idiot sometimes…

I hadn’t even noticed I was spacing out until his voice spoke loud enough for me to snap back into reality. He had been staring at me with raised brows, an expectant look on his face. “O-Oh, sorry… Uh, do you wanna hang out later? Like, when we get home?” I calmly asked, my eyes flickering to the fading bruise decorating his eye. He shifted in his seat and returned back to his lunch.

“Um… I’ll see.” He mumbled, my throat constricting at his words.

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Whitaker watched me like a hawk as I turned into the girls’ restroom.

“Don’t think I don’t know that trick, (Y/L/N)! You better get to the gymnasium as soon as you’re done!”

“Yes, sir.” I mumbled and closed the door behind me. To be honest, I didn’t think he knew that trick and was absolutely planning on spending the entirety of my detention in the restroom. Letting out a sigh, I leaned against the wall and texted Jacob.

Me: I got detention. Pick me up at 7 please?

Jake: Haha! I’ll be there, don’t worry

Jake: And don’t try hiding out in the bathrooms. Whitaker knows that trick

Me: Noted

Pocketing my phone, I pushed the door open and trudged to the gym. Even with the doors closed, I could hear Whitaker screaming at whoever else was inside. With a small groan, I lazily used my body to open one of the doors, the principal’s voice quieting as the screech of the hinges echoed throughout the room.

“Ms (Y/L/N), I would have thought that after getting detention for tardiness, you’d learn to be more punctual. Take a seat!” Whitaker boomed. Rolling my eyes, I moved over to the bleachers, surprised to see Sydney, Stan, Brad, Dina and… Jenny Tuffield.

I could be irritated with people all I wanted, but I never completely ignored or even spat insults or such at them, unless they truly did something to hurt me or the ones I care about. Hence the reason I ignore Ricky. But Jenny brought out a side of me I really despised. It was a side of myself that thought of the worst things to say and spewed them out without hesitation, resulting in a back-and-forth war between the two of us. It usually ended with death threats and flipping the birds to each other, but we’ve never physically fought. That could change one day, who knows? I could feel her sickening smirk as I passed her to sit in front of Stan, who looked bewildered to see that I was here with him in detention. I patted his knee before turning back to Whitaker, who had been waiting for me to do as I was told. Satisfied, he continued on.

“Now that you all are here,” He cut me a look. “I want you to take the next few hours and think about your mistakes. And carve out in your mind a plan for change. Determine how to improve yourselves. Define what the word ‘respect’ means to you.”

Get a job, dude…

“Now you can start by respecting this beautiful gymnasium. Between now and seven p.m., you’re gonna scrape up every goddamn piece of gum from the bleachers,” He stepped forward and slammed a box down in front of us, no doubt full of the tools needed for our manual labor. The six of us all rolled our eyes as Whitaker stepped back again. “Get started.”

“Uh, Mr Whitaker, sir,” I heard Stan from behind me. “Um… Will there be a break for snacks or dinner?”

Silence was his answer. Whitaker stared at Stan as if he’d just asked him to lick his shoes before exiting the gym. From behind me, I felt him lean forward towards Sydney, picking up on their very quiet and very short exchange.

“Hey, I’m really sorry-”

“No. I’m not talking to you, okay?”

Reaching over, I tugged on Stan’s jacket sleeve, the boy shuffling so that our faces were right beside each other. “What are you doing in here?”

“I called File a motherfucker.”

“You- What?”

“Okay,” Dina’s voice interrupted us, causing everyone to turn to her as she stood from her spot beside Brad. “I know none of us wanna be here right now, but I was thinking, if we divide and conquer the bleachers, maybe we could be done before seven and Whitaker will let us out early, so…” Her suggestion earned a smile from her boyfriend and a sarcastic remark from Jenny, who I nearly forgot even existed. She clapped her hands, everyone turning to her.

“Go team!” She mimicked your everyday cheerleader as Dina sat back down, a look of irritation on her face.

“I’m not a cheerleader.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Maybe you should be in prison.”

“Ooh. That’s my wet dream…” She drawled out, running her tongue over her top teeth. I rolled my eyes and turned my head away.

“I don’t know, guys,” Stan spoke up. “This gum has been here for decades. I don’t think Whitaker actually checks. It’s just a social experiment, like a simulation.”

“Oh. Well, someone’s been smoking their supply.” Brad quipped. I narrowed my eyes and was about to give a sly remark when Jenny interrupted.

“You know what?” She whipped her body around to face us all, that wicked smile stretched across her face. “I have an idea. Why don’t we play Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

I couldn’t help myself. “What are you, thirteen?” I snarled. Our fellow delinquents stared between us with unease. “You say it like we’re about to huff some fucking gasoline. Are you supposed to be some kind of badass?”

Her eyes slid over to me, her grin widening. “Awe, Zip, I haven’t spoken to you in so long, I thought you died…”

“I wish you died…”

“So, who goes first?” Her head snapped towards everyone else, her finger moving towards each person in the room. “Eenie… meenie… miney… Brad.” She whispered out. Brad looked towards his girlfriend.

“Guess if I had to-”

“No. Not another word.” Dina shook her head.

“Oh, what about you, Miss Goody-Goody? Or are you too afraid to play?” Jenny gave a fake pout.

“Why would I be afraid?”

“Cool then. Fuck, Marry, Kill. Stanley Barber… Mr Whitaker… and… Syd.”

“Well, clearly, I’m killing Whitaker.”

“So are you gonna fuck Syd or marry her?”

Dina exhaled through her nose before looking to her right, eyes locking with Sydney. “Total life goal to marry your best friend, if Syd’ll have me.” She softly spoke, bringing a small smile to my face at their soft exchange. Of course, though, Jenny had to ruin it.

“Oh, so then it’s you and Stan in an all-day bone sesh. Ugh, you little slut.”

So over the sound of her fucking voice, I threw my head back in annoyance. “Jesus Christ, Jenny, you are so fucking boring!”

“No need to tell him about it,” She laughed tauntingly. “I’m guessing you wanna go next, since you got my attention. Or are you saving all of the sex and marriage for your little boyfriend?”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Ooh, where?”

Snapping, I slapped my hand down on the space beside me, my gaze set and locked on her. “No one gives a shit about you, Jenny!”

“And people care about you, Zip?! Where’s your fucking dad?!”

Fire in my eyes, I lunged towards her, but felt hands grabbing onto my shoulders and sitting me back down. The hands soothingly rubbed my arms as Jenny cackled. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just all fun here… Now, for you, your very own Ricky Berry… Stan… and Dina.”

Scratching my cheek, I rolled my eyes so far back, I could feel them do a three-sixty rotation. “Fucking hell, you never give up. Fine, I’d marry Dina, fuck Stan, kill Ricky.”

Jenny lowly whistled as the hands on my arms slowly slid away. “But Zip, I thought you two were in love,” Her grin was something of evil as her brows bounced. “You guys had so much fun, fucking at his party. Oh! Or is it because you were drunk off your ass and he wasn’t?”

“Jenny, shut the fuck up-”

“No consent whatsoever… Boyfriend of the year…”

Having Jenny see me break down in front of everyone was not a moment in time I’d ever want to experience. She already got what she wanted, a reaction from me. She didn’t need a bonus. So, standing to my feet, I darted to the locker room, trying my best to block out Jenny’s laughing. I couldn’t help the tears that cascaded down my cheeks as I stood in front of one of the mirrors, hastily wiping them away.

Why are you letting her get to you? Why are you letting Ricky get to you? He can’t hurt you anymore, stop crying about it!

The creaking of the door sent my body into a stiffened, frozen state. That was, until I heard his voice, “Hey, lovely…” Turning my head to Stan, I sighed out.

“Hey, beautiful…” I sniffled as he made his way over to me. We stood in a comfortable silence, Stan understanding that I needed a moment to compose myself. “S-Sorry about that. You know I just fucking hate her guts-”

“No, I get it. We all hate her guts.” He cracked a smile. I quietly chuckled and stuffed my hands into my hoodie pockets. “Do you wanna talk about it, (Y/N)?”

“Not really… I don’t wanna think about it right now…”

“I know, but, like, it’s good to talk to someone about… you know, traumatic things that happen so it doesn’t bottle up-”

“Yeah, I know, Stan, I just can’t- I can’t think about it right now. We can do it, like, later… Not at school.”

He slowly nodded. “Totally. I understand. So… you ready to head back out? We’re not actually scraping gum. So we can just sit and talk.”

“I’d love to just sit and talk with you.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was spread out, Syd more than anyone. I had no idea where she’d gone, but apparently she stormed out shortly after I did. I guess Jenny knew how to get under everyone’s skin that day. Said girl was sitting against a brick wall away from the bleachers, where the other two pairs of us were. Brad and Dina were hugged up on each other, whispering into each other’s ears and quietly laughing. Stan and I were on the edge of the bleachers, the boy stretched across the one on the first level, and I on the second. As he fiddled with his rubix cube, my index finger reached out and gently traced his facial features. I started off with his brow, careful of his wound on the edge. It was clearing up and that caused a smile to appear on my face. Next, I let my fingertip brush across his lashes and he furrowed his brows, trying to focus on his cube. My finger then glided down the bridge of his nose. I quietly laughed when his eyes comically crossed to look at my finger. With a giggle, Stan jutted his chin upwards to gently kiss my fingertip. “Stop distracting me.”

My hand lazily dropped to his hair as I whispered out an apology. Not too long afterwards, I heard a voice quietly call out Stan’s name, but he was too fixated on his toy. My eyes looked to Sydney, who was standing in the doorway, desperately trying to get the boy’s attention. When she called out to him again, he actually looked at her. Looking between the two of us, she frantically motioned for Stan to come outside. When he only raised a brow, she did it again. Letting out a sigh, he wordlessly handed me his cube before sitting up and following Syd out of the gym, closing the door behind him to allow them privacy. Puffing out a sigh, I began playing with the multicolored cube in my hands. I never was very good with rubix cubes, my patience always ran too thin to finish them. That time didn’t seem to be an exception, either, because minutes in, I set it down and rested my head down to hopefully sleep off the rest of detention.

As I began to doze off, I heard the double doors screech upon Sydney’s arrival. She anxiously walked past me over towards the other side of the gym, where Dina and Brad had moved to suck face. I heard her call out to her friend a few times before she loudly spoke, “Look, Dina, I need a tampon right now.”

“Just dig in my bag.”

“I… I do need you, but for… but for something else.” She stuttered out. And with that, the two exited the gym. Suspicious about what my friends were plotting without me, I slowly sat up from my lying position and sat normally on the bleacher, waiting for one of them to come back. Hearing footsteps approach me, I knew it either had to be Brad or Jenny, and I was praying to the stars it was the former. As unusual as it sounded. The bleacher moaned under Brad’s weight as he sat beside me.

“Hey, Zip,” He greeted with a smile. I side-eyed him for a second before turning my gaze to my shoes. Scoffing, he shifted his legs. “You’re ignoring me now? Oh, come on. We’re friends, Zip. Good friends.”

“We are not friends, Bradley,” I almost laughed. “You’re friends with Ricky and I want nothing to do with him, so… I guess you know where the two of us stand.”

“Okay, well… Regardless, as Ricky’s best friend, I can say for him that what he did was fucked up. Right?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Right! But listen, we all make mistakes, Zip. Ricky really loves you, you know that, right? He would never do anything to hurt you.”

I was silent for a bit, only to prevent myself from decking Brad in the nose. “Well, he clearly didn’t love me enough. Not enough to respect my right to consent-”

“Zip-”

“And you know what, Brad?” I slowly stood to my feet. “I’ve had enough of you defending everything he does! You can tell Ricky to get lost and leave me the hell alone!”

Before he could utter another word, I marched straight through the double doors. Three figures stood ahead, and I was more than ready to push past them, but I recognized each of them. Halting in my tracks, I saw Dina, Syd and Stan all nervously staring at me. Confused, I put my weight on both my feet. “Uh… what’s going on?”

Dina was the first to answer. “We… need your help distracting the janitor to get his keys.”

“W-What? Why?”

“Well, Stan and Syd hooked up in the library and got it on camera-”

“You guys hooked up again?” I turned to my best friend, who quickly turned to Sydney. She frowned and stood up straighter.

“You told her?”

“S-She’s my best friend! She tells me when she has sex!”

Widening my eyes, I let out a scoff. “I had sex, I don’t have sex.”

“Well, whatever, can you do it?” Sydney changed the subject. I looked between the three in confusion.

“Okay, but why me?”

“Because you have boobs. Like, a nice size.”

“Uh-”

“And,” Dina cut in. “Because you’re a great actress. The best out of all of us.”

My lips quirked up into a small smile, Dina satisfied that she boosted my confidence enough for me to accept. Lucky for them, my locker was just across from the gym, so I unlocked it and pulled out a spare tee. ‘Can’t seduce anyone wearing that’, Dina told me.

Shortly after, Stan and I were in a corner as I changed my top. He was nervously staring down at his shoes as I pulled my hoodie off. “I didn’t want you to be the distraction. Are you sure you’ll be okay doing this?”

“I’m not seducing him, Stan,” I chucked my hoodie towards him. He looked up to catch it, but as soon as his eyes raked over my almost bare chest, they darted downwards again. “That’s just a back-up plan.”

“O-Oh, okay…” He nodded as I pulled my shirt on.

Minutes later, I entered the classroom Carl the Janitor had been cleaning. He looked up at me and nodded. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Hi, Carl. Listen. So, I kinda snuck out of rehearsal earlier and I need to get back into the auditorium. But guess what? The door’s locked. I really don’t want Ms Turner to find me out. Do you think you could help me? Please?” I tapped my fingertips together as he sighed.

“You know I can get in trouble doing that…”

“I-I know, but it would mean so much to me. I promise I won’t get you caught.”

“Well, what about the back entrance? She never locks those doors.”

He was right. Clearing my throat, I looked to the side. “W-Well, she did today…”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion for what felt like forever before relenting, handing his ring of keys over. “Okay, just get them back to me in twenty minutes.”

“You’re the best, thank you.” I grinned and stepped out of the room. Swinging around the corner, I found Dina and Syd waiting for me. Upon my arrival, they both grinned. “Nothing wrong with asking politely, ladies. We got less than twenty.” I cheekily smiled, handing the keys over to Sydney. Dina chuckled and crossed her arms as I took my hoodie from Syd and pulled it back on.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is quite simple.” Stan’s voice appeared as he approached us, two microwavable burritos in his hands.

-------------------------------------------------

“First, we distract Whitaker with burritos. I’m gonna put these in the microwave and blast these bad boys up on high, and then…”

The explosion muffled by the closed door was enough to get Mr Whitaker rushing out of the teachers’ lounge. “What the hell- What the hell is goin’ on down there?! Jesus!”

“...Whitaker will hear it and come runnin’. When he takes off from the teachers’ lounge, the coast’ll be clear straight through to the principal’s office, and then we make our move.”

As the principal moved past the closet we were all hiding in, Stan slowly opened the door, giving the four of us the chance to run out. As Dina and I silently followed Whitaker, Stan and Syd headed towards his office, keys in the latter’s hands.

“Syd, you’re the key man… Key lady.”

“Wait, why am I the key lady?”

“Because you’re… good with your hands.”

“Ew.”

“Dina and (Y/N), you two are lookout. You keep eyes on Whitaker.”

I crouched down and peeked around the corner as Dina did the same right above me. Whitaker had just opened the door to the microwave, the smoke engulfing him as he coughed and fanned it away.

“The burrito bomb should keep him busy for awhile.”

The two of us watched in amusement as he grabbed the fire extinguisher from the fire emergency supplies and sprayed it into the closet.

“That man cannot resist a fire extinguisher, which will give us the time we need to get in. Burrito bombs are disgusting. Last time I set one off, my whole house smelled like bean farts.”

“True story.”

“Gross.”

Sooner than we expected, Whitaker took off from the crime scene in a hurried pace. Dina and I quickly rushed towards our friends, the girl waving her arms in the air as I readied the door to the closet for us.

“Anything goes wrong, lookout crew, you signal us… and everyone take cover.”

Once Stan and Syd noticed Dina, they scurried off down the hall to hide. I pulled Dina into the closet with me and silently closed the door as we crouched down.

“That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s fair. It’s totally fair. Can you think of a better one?”

…

“Our best hiding spot’s probably behind the trophy case. And we wait…”

A collective sigh of relief filled the closet as the savior ringing echoed through the halls.

“...for the smoke alarm. Which will buy us more time. Which we will need, because there are a shit-ton of keys. Like a metric shit-ton, it’s ridiculous.”

After our principal took off away from his office again, the closet door slowly creaked open as Dina and I watched Syd and Stan successfully enter the principal’s office.

“Once we’re in, we head straight for the security system in the closet. And that’s it!”

The smoke alarm cut off its insistent ringing within seconds. My heart thumped in my throat as Whitaker’s form stormed down the hallway, towards his office in angry strides. Thankfully, Syd and Stan ducked down before he caught sight of them. As soon as he passed us, I gently nudged Dina out of the closet. “Go create some big distraction that’ll lure him away,” I whispered under my breath. “I’ll keep him from the door.” I stood up straight as Dina nodded and silently hurried down the opposite end of the hall.

“Whatever you do, do not panic. Do not bail… or we are screwed.”

Whitaker was seconds from the door and I had yet to come up with a way to get him distracted again.

“Okay, but what happens if your plan goes to shit?”

Finding the key on his ring, he began jiggling it into the lock.

“It won’t.”

I stepped out of the closet, breathing labored in panic.

“But what if it does?”

When the lock sounded, I let out an ear-splitting scream that had Whitaker jumping three feet in the air. When his gaze settled on me, he marched my way, steam practically shooting from his ears. “(Y/L/N), what the hell is the matter with you?!”

“U-Uh- Uh, something happened down that way!” I blurted out, pointing down in Dina’s direction. His head followed my finger before it snapped back to me.

“Well?! What ha-”

A crash sounded.

“Improvise.”

The poor man shook his head in exhaustion. “I’m too goddamn old for this shit…” He whined before taking off down the hall, away from his office. Once the coast was clear, Syd and Stan peeked up, watching as I gave them a thumbs-up. They gratefully smiled my way before standing and finishing the job.

“And if all goes well, as it should, we grab the footage, our sexcapade remains private, and nobody gets expelled.”

My shoulders sagged as Sydney walked out of the office with Stan behind her, holding up the flashdrive in her hand.

“Let’s hope this shit works.”

-------------------------------------------------

It totally worked. After our brilliant scheme, the four of us sat in front of the lockers to rest, my form sandwiched between Stan and Dina. He kissed the flashdrive and let out a breath. “Oh, I thought we were screwed…”

“We were screwed, but holy shit, we did it.” Dina quietly laughed along with the rest of us.

“Thank you guys,” Sydney smiled, the three of us turning to her. “Seriously.” She chuckled as I reached my hand over to Stan’s pocket. Catching onto what I was doing, he fished his case out himself.

“Wonderful idea, Nugget,” He pecked the back of my hand with his lips before I could move it away and slid a joint from his case. “Any takers?”

“You’re not serious.” Dina frowned as Stan took out his lighter. He nodded to her with furrowed brows.

“He is.” I grinned fondly at my best friend as he lit up the end of his joint and inhaled the smoke before handing it over to me. I happily accepted it and took a hit as Dina glanced around us, hoping no adults were around to witness the scandalous act. She choked out a laugh when Sydney accepted the joint from me.

“Since when do you smoke weed?”

Sydney slyly smiled and stretched the smoke over to her, my own hand taking it to give her better access. “Oh, come on, Dina. Everyone’s doing it. Don’t you wanna be cool like us?” We all giggled and watched as Dina hesitantly took a hit from the joint. Her own snorting encouraged our laughter to increase, the four of us blissfully unaware of what lay ahead of us just in the locker room down the hall.

We sat in that hallway for the next half hour, talking about everything and nothing as our time of release approached closer. When the joint was finished, we entered the gym to enjoy our fading highs in peace. Dina headed over to the bleachers, and Stan and I sat on the bench beside the locker room, as Sydney headed inside to use the bathroom. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence as he shifted the colorful columns of his cube. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, and soon after, I felt his head rest against mine. “So… are you gonna need a ride home?” He whispered.

“No. Jake is picking me up.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Um… now do you wanna talk about how you’re doing? I know that, like, we’re still in school and we’re not entirely alone, but I just wanted to see how you were after you had to-”

“I’m doing better,” I interrupted his rambling. “Thank you.”

His hands froze their fiddling before one shyly crept close to mine. I felt his fingers graze my thigh as he interlocked our fingers in a tight hold. “Of course, Nugget.” He muttered right as Dina walked to the door to the locker room, giving me a smirk before walking inside. Stan then held up his rubix cube and chuckled. “Wanna try and solve it together?”

“Oh, my god, yes.” I laughed. And with that, we were using our free hands to turn and shift the cube around, hushed laughter filling the gymnasium as we told each other ‘no, not that way’, ‘turn the blue one’, and ‘yeah, yeah, that one’ for the next minute and a half of peace. Once our time was up, the door to the locker room slammed open and a teary-eyed Dina stormed out, a frantic Brad behind her.

“Babe, wait, please. Syd’s lying, I swear to god! Please! She’s lying!” As Dina walked out of the gym, Whitaker walked in, watching her go. “You’re not seriously breaking up with me right now!”

“Hey! Which one of you punks eats burritos?” Our principal shouted, Stan and I stifling our laughter in each other’s hair and shoulder. “Alright, I don’t know what the hell went on tonight, but I wanna see everyone in my office first thing in the morning!” He gave us one last look before exiting again. As soon as he was gone, Brad turned to Syd with a clenched jaw.

“I offered you a truce, and you fucked it up. This is on you. You remember that.” He pointed at her before angrily stomping out. Stan and I detangled ourselves from each other as Jenny walked out of the locker room with crossed arms.

“Ah, another day in paradise,” She looked between the three of us as her smile faded. “So, you guys wanna get wasted?”

I scoffed. “Fuck off, Jenny.”

Waving Stan and Syd goodbye minutes later, I joined Jacob in his car. He smiled over at me as I clipped my seatbelt on over myself. “So? How boring was it?”

“Oh, a total fucking snoozefest.” I rolled my eyes, my cousin chuckling and pulling off towards our home. Halfway through the car ride, I heard him turn down his music and sigh.

“Bug, what’s going on with you?”

“Huh?” I turned to him with raised brows.

“You’re… You’re different. You’re quiet, you skip dinner sometimes, you’re sleeping in. You never do that, especially the quiet part. Jesus, you’re so loud-”

“Okay, asshole, I get it!” I laughed quietly before going completely silent again. Not realizing I proved his point, I jumped when he poked my arm.

“See? Something’s wrong with you. What is it? Is it Ricky?”

“I-” I don’t know why I wanted to keep the whole situation a secret. Things like this needed to come into light and Ricky deserved to be exposed. Sensing my hesitancy, Jacob nodded.

“There we go. What did he do this time? Did he forget an anniversary? No? Did he… cheat?” Silence. “Did he do worse?” My eyes darted away. “(Y/N), did he do worse…?”

“I don’t know if I should say, Jake-”

“You absolutely should say it, (Y/N). Did he hit you?”

“No.”

“No? Did he… you know, touch you?” His tone softened as tears welled up in my eyes. “Bug, what happened…?”

“H-He raped me…” I cried and covered my face. “I got drunk on his birthday and he took advantage of it. A-And then he lied and said we were both drunk. B-But everyone else said he wasn’t even drunk.”

A beat of silence passed before the roar of the engine slid in pitch. I looked up at the houses and street signs that flew past us in a blur. “J-Jake, what are you doing?!”

“We’re gonna pay Ricky a visit.”

Before I knew it, we were in front of Ricky’s house. Jacob silently released himself from his restraint and exited the car. I sunk down in my own seat as I watched Ricky walk out of his home and towards his car. Upon seeing Jacob, he happily waved, but his smile vanished when Jacob decked him in the face so hard he fell to the ground. My breathing sped up as I jumped out of the car, speeding over to the two. “Jake! Stop!” I screamed as he straddled Ricky, landing punch after punch on his face. Ricky cried out and tried to push him off, but it was no use. Jacob was so much stronger than him. I knew pulling on him and screaming at him would do nothing, so I looked up and turned all around, watching as some neighbors peeked out their windows and front doors to watch the scene unfold. When I heard a crunch, I whipped back towards them and almost hurled at the bloodied mess that was Ricky’s face. “Jake, come on!” I screamed and pulled him off.

Stumbling to his feet, Jacob grabbed Ricky by his collar and lifted him close. “I don’t ever wanna see you near her. I don’t wanna hear that you spoke to her, I don’t even wanna know that you looked at her,” He growled, Ricky frantically nodding. “Don’t ever associate yourself with my sister ever again or I will make sure your eyes are swollen shut next time. Got it? Got it?!”

“Yes.” Ricky wheezed out before he was dropped to the ground.

“We’re going home, Jake! Jake, let’s fucking go home!” I screamed and ran to his car, getting in the driver seat. Chest heaving, he strode back over to the car and got in the passenger seat, sighing heavily as I drove away, leaving behind a groaning Ricky. I hadn’t even noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles until I parked the car. Like a worried mother, I helped him out and over to the front porch.

“Hey, lovely!” I heard Stan call out. Looking up, I saw that he and Syd were just about to enter his house. “Do you wanna-”

I fished out my keys and hurriedly unlocked the door, pushing my cousin inside and shutting the door behind us. After ordering him into the bathroom, I found some bandages and hydrogen peroxide and joined him inside. The next few minutes were spent in silence, save for the soft hisses that escaped him when I dabbed the chemical onto his cuts. As I wrapped his hands, I felt his eyes on me. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

“If he tries anything ever again, tell me immediately.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious,” He ducked his head down to meet my eyes, his own shining with unshed tears. “I promise you, he won’t lay a finger on you as long as I’m around.”

Setting down the blood-covered cotton ball, I nodded and allowed my lip to quiver.

“I know.”

—————————————

Taglist: @nate-isnt-great @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt x reader #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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systlinsideblog · 3 years

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Part 3

The Great Crimes are as follows;

There are three Great Crimes, for which the punishment is death.

The first of the Great Crimes when, in cold blood, a person murders another who has offered no offence. The punishment for murder shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the loved ones of the murdered or by one they give the right to in their stead.

The second of the Great Crimes is rape. The punishment for rape of another shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the victim or by one the victim gives the right to in their stead.

The third of the Great Crimes is to enslave another, and hold them in bondage. The punishment for holding another in slavery shall be death…

-The New Laws, or The Change in the Laws of Gor, The Great Ubara Systlin Stellas, on the new laws of the land, speech given in the Throne Room of Turia, 0 AGU. Chiseled on a pillar before the Law Rooms of Ar in its entirety

Kutaituchik, the Ubar of the Tuchuks, was dead.

It had been a very brutal and confusing few hours. The strange woman had refused to show courtesy or deference. She had made no apology for killing Tuchuk warriors. She had not relinquished the slave girl clinging tight to her side, the one whose master she had killed when he moved to chastise his slave.

She had stood before the Ubar of the Tuchuks like a queen before her court, and had demanded.

I pulled at the slave collar around my throat, and found it quite secure.

I have seen many things in my day. Many horrors, and many wonders. But I have never before in all my days seen a horror like the one that the woman Systlin had brought to the wagons of the Tuchuk.

I looked to the wagons of the Ubar. There was light within them, bosk-dung fires in braziers. The woman Systlin had claimed it for her own, and gathered all the haruspexes and soothsayers to confer with them.

My leg throbbed. It had been set and bound skillfully, but the bone would take some weeks to knit. Until then, I could scarce walk, hobbling with the aid of a cane.

The woman had not even touched me to break it.

Sorceress, I thought. I had not believed in such things, and would have attributed such powers only to the Priest-Kings. But I had seen it now, with my own eyes, the terrible power that woman held, the power to shatter bone and steel with will alone.

The corpses of some of the Tuchuks who had risen in rage against her after she had slain their Ubar were still lying where they had fallen. I tried not to look at them, but found my eyes drawn.

Shapeless things they were, only scarce resembling men. The bones, I gathered, were nothing more any longer but needle-like splinters. Those splinters had driven through flesh and vital organs, and once-proud warriors lay where they had fallen, shapeless piles of bloody meat.

I had been fortunate that it was only my leg that had been broken.

I shivered. My leg throbbed. And I wondered, what terrible force had set a terror like this woman loose upon Gor.

The water was cold.

Systlin hated cold baths. Cold in general, really. But it was, in this situation, useful.

Her Power screamed and fought inside her, eager to be used again, and she wanted to. Oh, but she wanted to, and that was the danger of it. The cold water was a good distraction.

She didn't know how many men she'd killed. Some with sword. More, many more, with her power for Breaking. And it had been good, it had been so good, to stand there untouchable and terrible, hearing their screams and seeing their terror, to walk among them like a terrible, unstoppable, untouchable goddess, tearing down everything in her path...

She shivered, and ducked under the surface of the stream.

It was always...hard, after, and she'd let herself go further than usual this time, in her rage. She always felt brittle after, hollow, the desire to kill and kill until nothing remained clawing to be let out again. She'd be short now with people, she knew, and snappish. Easily irritated, even over trivial matters. Once you started to kill with the Breaking gift, it was so very easy to continue.

Breaking was a terrible gift. The seduction of the sheer power it gave, the delight in using it, were as dangerously addictive as poppy milk.

To look upon a Breaker is to look upon a madman. She remembered hearing that as a child, reading it in books.

Under the water, sounds were muffled. But she still heard the sound of footsteps on the stream bank, muted and distorted. She came out of the water in a rush, her hand landing on Ice's hilt, and the sword was half drawn before she realized that the intruder was the girl she'd rescued from being beaten.

The girl cringed back, falling to her knees and prostrating herself in what was clearly ingrained habit. "Mast...mistress! I am sorry! I did not mean..."

A little of the brittle anger ebbed out of her. Systlin sheathed her sword. "It's all right. I've spent too much of my life with people trying to kill me, is all. You did nothing wrong." She stepped out of the stream, wringing out her hair and shivering in the chilly air.

The girl looked up at her, eyes wide. It was...unnerving. Systlin was used to people bowing, but bowing and the groveling the girl was doing were two different things entirely. "I have not displeased you, mistress?"

Oh, tits.

"No. And you needn't call me that." Systlin pulled her trousers back on, and the quilted silk gambeson that went under her scale armor. "My Lady' will work quite well. I'm not your mistress. You're a free woman. I've no interest in owning anyone."

"My lady?"

"Please stand up." Irritation flared, but Systlin tamped it down hard; it was a bleed-over from the cold joy of destroying, nothing more. It was not her, and she would not acknowledge it. She reached a hand out. After a moment, the girl took it hesitantly, and Systlin pulled her to her feet. "There. That's much better."

The girl blinked at her, eyes still wide, and Systlin saw a hint of awe there.

The girl had, she noticed, fashioned herself rough trousers of hide, patterned much like Systlin's own.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"I am Sabra." The girl was still staring, eyes moving up and down as she took everything in. "You...you are very strong. I have never seen...I did not know a woman could swing a sword like a man."

Systlin tugged her armor over her head and hopped a bit until it settled into place. "Swords don't weigh that much. Anyone can swing a sword with practice. The strength to do it well will come with time and training."

Sabra's head came up a little at that. "Anyone?" There was a thin thread of timid hope in her voice.

Systlin smiled. "Yes. Anyone. You included. Would you like to learn?"

There was a long pause, and then a long, slow, genuine smile from the former slave.

“I….think so, Mi…my lady.”

“Well. Then you shall. You’re a free woman, and free women do as they like.”

“Free.” The woman echoed, as if the word wasn’t real. “Free.”

“Unless of course you wish to go elsewhere.” Systlin shrugged as they walked. “Have you a family anywhere? A home you were taken from?”

“I…a long time ago, I did. If I wished…”

“I would give you gold, supplies, anything you needed, and take you there, and wish you well.”

The look the other woman gave her was naked astonishment, and something like awe. For a moment she looked wistful, but then… “No. If I returned home, I could quickly be made a slave again.” She touched her upper thigh; Systlin had noted that many of the freed slaves bore brands of various types there. “I am branded as a slave; any man could take me and sell me or keep me and be within the law.”

Systlin saw red for an instant. “Then you will stay.” She ground out. “Until we pay a visit to your former home, and teach them the error of such ways.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Sabra breathed. “You would…you would do this? Free other places as you’ve freed us in this camp?”

“If the men of this world insist on being awful,” Systlin growled. “I will do as I must. Slavery is among the greatest crimes, and rape another. I will not abide either.”

“You were sent.” Sabra breathed. “I begged the Mother for aid, though I was beaten for worshiping false gods. Other women also begged the old gods for aid, I know it. We begged for mercy and help and here you are.”

For mercy.

Systlin tilted her head back and stared at the sky. There were three moons here, which seemed to fly across the sky quite rapidly. She picked out the largest nearly by instinct, and glared.

Mercy. Lady’s mercy. Fucking pits. Now it made sense.

Gods. Gods and their machinations. She scowled.

Well. At least she knew how she’d ended up in this shithole.

Morning brought no greater comfort.

The slave collar around my neck had been forged for a woman, and though it was the Turian style on me it was too tight, and bit into my flesh. I could breathe, but it was uncomfortable

Between the throbbing of my leg, the pinch of the collar, and the chill of the night, I got but little sleep. Inside the wagon, under warm furs, slept slave girls. Their collars had been removed, and many of the surviving Tuchuk men wore them as did I, bound wrist and ankle and neck.

I wondered what had become of Kamchak. I had not seen him since the furor had begun outside the Ubar's wagon.

My wrists were securely chained behind me. Bells jangled with my every move. The ground was hard, and cold. I wondered, for the first time, how slave girls could sleep this way.

The night passed in interminable slowness and misery. There was movement, among the wagons, and the sound of men's angry voices and chiming bells from other poor souls so humiliatingly bound as myself. There were the voices of women, hushed, and often with a tone of disbelief.

I heard women laughing. There was rather more of it than I was accustomed to.

Twice slave girls had come to see me. They seemed to find the sight of a warrior in slave chains novel.

"You must let me free," I had said, my voice stern and commanding. "You are slaves; you must obey."

They had giggled, ignoring my words, and left. They were, I noted, no longer attired properly; their hair was bound back in plaits, and they wore leather blouses and had fashioned trousers, hastily made but quite obviously patterned after those of the vicious she-sleen that had brought this ruin and humiliation down upon us.

At dawn food was brought, dried bosk-meat. I was fed, given water, and then left alone again.

The chain that connected the rings on my wrists and ankles and neck was quite securely linked to the axle of the wagon. I had tried to loosen it with some vigor the day before, without luck.

Some time passed. I pulled at my chains, for all the good it would do me; my leg was quite broken, and I could not flee even should I get loose.

As dawn broke, the scent of charring meat reached me, and south of the camp I saw great plumes of smoke begin to rise.

I had smelled enough corpses burn to know that the dead of the slaughter the night before were being burnt.

As the sun rose towards mid-morning, I was approached.

The she-sleen had chosen herself a fine black kaiila. She rode well; I could see that she was not quite used to the sleen, as she rode as one would an ordinary horse. But she sat well, and when she dismounted it was gracefully and with ease.

She had shed her leather tunic. Instead, glittering in the sun, was armor formed from what looked like scales, each perhaps two inches long and half as wide. They were of many different colors, each iridescent and gleaming brilliantly in the sun.

She looked me over. I met her eyes steadily; I was a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba, and I would not be cowed before a woman.

"Hm." She made a noncommittal noise at last. "You are not of these people."

I said nothing.

"No matter." She shrugged, and turned. A group of slave-girls were following her. All were collarless and had plaited their hair, and wore clothing of various types; some skirts, some trousers. All wore blouses or vests of leather or cloth that sadly covered their charms. "Take him."

"Am I to be a slave, then?" I glowered at her.

She turned her head to look at me again. It occurred to me again that had she been less mannish and muscular, she could have been a beauty.

"I've no interest in keeping anyone as property." She said. "You are to be judged."

"By what authority?" A girl wearing the long skirt and leather vest of a Tuchuk woman moved to loose me from the wagon. Her hair was plaited. I remembered, not two days ago, seeing her dancing in pleasure silks and bells for her master around his fire.

I thought of breaking loose and overpowering the girl. But the woman Systlin was still watching me, and I saw her, as the girl chose a key and unlocked my chain from the wagon, curl her hand around the hilt of the long dagger on her belt.

I am ashamed to admit, but it stayed me. I had seen flashes of the woman fighting, and though it pain me I would be forced to compare her favorably with the greatest warriors of Ko-Ro-Ba. In my current state, I had no chance. My hope for flight lay in my recovering and stealing a fleet kaiila, I knew. So, as the chain was loosed, I gave no resistance.

"Mine." The she-sleen's voice was crisp. "Can you walk?"

Pride demanded no less of me. I am a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba. By leaning on the cart, I managed to get to my feet.

"Help him." She told the girl who held my chain. The girl nodded.

She did not say what would happen to me if I resisted. She did not need to.

I was taken to the tent of the Ubar. Before it was piled many fine carpets, and cushions of silk and leather. On top of it all was spread a worn gray robe; it was this, I supposed, this simple garment that was the grey robe of the Ubar.

There were other men, chained as I was, chained to the palatal wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I tried to estimate their number; a hundred and a half, perhaps two.

This was all that remained of the proud warrior men of the Tuchuk.

I am no stranger to death. But upon seeing this, and realizing the full scale of the disaster which had befallen the Tuchuk, I must admit that I felt a flicker of fear.

What terrible creature was this woman, to slay three thousand strong men in a night?

The she-sleen walked past the men chained to the wagon. Her back was straight, and her stride purposeful.

I could not help but notice that, despite her too-strong build, she had what appeared to be marvelously shapely hindquarters.

She did not hesitate for even a moment; she went directly to the gray robe, the throne of the Ubar, and seated herself upon it with all the air of one born to it.

I heard a groan rise from the captive men, myself included. She sat cross-legged, a man’s stance, not a woman’s proper kneeling stance. Women who sit so are often ridiculed as wishing to be men, but everything about this woman was unnatural and wrong.

One man started up, and my heart leapt; it was Kamchak!

His arm was splinted, as was a leg, much like mine, and his eye was black and swollen. He spit in the direction of the she-sleen on the throne of the Ubar, and cursed her.

"You! Sleen! You say you wish to judge us? What right have you?"

Her head turned, very slowly, to regard him. Then she smiled, and turned back to look out at the gathered crowd.

Around the throne of the Ubar of the Tuchuks, women thronged. Tuchuk women, some grim-faced and some smiling. Slave girls, by the hundreds. Many wore trousers. Most had braided their hair.

Mothers were holding their children. Babies fussed, and were soothed. Some of the older boys looked angry. Some of the girl-children cried too. The elder of the girls, however, were smiling.

There were many more smiling women than scowling women in the gathered crowd.

"Tuchuk," said the she-sleen, voice unconcerned and even. "Who is Ubara here?"

The roar of voices was near-deafening. "SYS-TAL-IN!" The women, freewomen and slave girls alike, screamed it. Only a few of the dour Tuchuk free women refrained. "SYS-TAL-IN! SYS-TAL-IN!"

Systlin looked back at Kamchak, and her smile was an unpleasant thing.

"There you have it." Her voice, again, was mild, deceptively so.

"You cannot..."

"I did." Her voice rose above Kamchaks'. "By your own laws, it seems, might makes right. The strong triumph, am I wrong?" Her eyes glittered. "It appears, warrior, that I am stronger than you, for I sit here on comfortable rugs and you are defeated and chained to a wagon."

"You used sorcery!"

"Yes." She agreed easily. "Though your warriors were easy enough to defeat without it." A horrible grin. "But yes. I used sorcery, and however I did it one woman, alone, brought every one of your great warriors to their knees. The pyres for those I killed burn still. And now, you will be silent, until it is your turn to be judged."

"WE HAVE COMMITTED NO CRIMES!" Kamchack's outraged roar drew cries of approval from the other shamefully chained warriors.

Systlin's mouth...it was a full mouth, and could have been pretty, were it smiling...compressed into a thin line. She nodded to one of the girls standing near the throne of the Ubar, in a grotesque imitation of the honor guard of an Ubar.

"Gag him," she said simply.

To my astonishment and horror, the girl moved promptly to do so, with a cheerful and almost gleeful demeanor.

Kamchak surged to his feet as best he could as the girl approached with a strip of leather; several of the bound warriors gave cries of encouragement. Systlin's head snapped around, fast as a striking sleen, and she was on her feet in a moment and at the girl's side in a moment more, that vicious sword of hers drawn.

The tip of that blade was pressed close against Kamchak's groin, and the she-sleen kept smiling, even as he drew a breath, naturally alarmed by the sharp steel near his male parts.

"Sleen." Kamchak hissed this, proud even in chains. "You cannot always be there, woman. Your unnatural sorcery cannot protect you forever."

Systlin laughed. A little huff of a chuckle, even as the slave girl bound the gag around Kamchak's mouth and head with every sign of enjoyment, which disturbed me.

"I have had," Systlin said, "Far better men than you try to kill me." A wide grin, with all of her teeth bared. "Now be quiet, and wait your turn."

She returned to the seat of the Ubar.

"Bring forth the first prisoner," she commanded.

It was done. A warrior was dragged, bound hands and feet so that he could not even stand, before the grotesque display, and forced up on his knees. He spit at the she-sleen on the Ubar's seat; she did not turn a hair at this.

"Your name." She asked.

"Sleen!"

"Your name." The same patient tone.

Silence.

She sighed, lifted her eyes. "Can anyone tell me the name of this man?"

"Braltak." A woman's voice. I did not see who spoke.

"Braltak. Have you, Braltak, in your life, held women or men as property?"

Silence. Braltak looked down his nose at her, and spit again.

"He has." The same voice. Female. There was a quaver to it now.

Braltak spun, as best he could. "Kala!" His voice was furious. "Kala, be silent!"

"Come forward, if you would." The she-sleen's voice speaking to me and the warrior had been curt, cold, commanding. But to the girl Kala, it was softer, and gentler.

Timidly, looking always at Braltek, a girl stepped through to stand before the self-proclaimed Ubara.

She was a lovely girl. Turian, I was certain, with golden hair and eyes as green as summer grass. Her figure was delicate and trim, though it was difficult to tell through the long leather skirt and baggy blouse she wore.

"Your name is Kala?" Again, the softer, gentler voice, encouraging.

"Yes, Ubara." The girl was still glancing nervously at Braltek. "And...before you freed us...I was his slave."

The idea was hard to swallow, at first; every slave in the Tuchuk camp, free!

But she had, I had to admit, the right. She sleen she may be, but she had defeated the warriors, by sorcery or not. She had taken their slaves for her own, and had done with them as she liked.

I did not like it, but it was fact.

"He kept you as property." Systlin's voice was hard; her eyes were back on Braltek. "Did he, Kala, ever place hands on you against your will? Did he ever force you to pleasure him?"

"She is a slave! That is her purpose!" Braltek roared.

"Ah. I have my answer." Systlin nodded her head, once. "By the law of my lands, such a crime carries the penalty of death. As the victim, you have the right to seek mercy. Do you desire mercy for this man?"

Kala's lovely green eyes fixed on Braltek.

"You are mine, Kala." Braltek's voice went lower. "You are mine. I am your master, you know it."

The lovely girl turned back to the she-sleen on the robe of the Ubar.

"I do not." Her voice was almost inaudible, but then she spoke again, more strongly. "I do not! I do not seek mercy for him!"

My mouth hung open.

Kala was slave. A slave loves her master. It is what they are trained for.

"I do not seek mercy for him!" Kala's voice rose, almost a scream.

"Then I, Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands and Ubara of the Tuchuk, proclaim this man Braltek guilty of the crimes of rape and slaving, and sentence him to die." The she-sleen stood, graceful, and picked up a quiva from among the rugs she had sat upon. She flipped the blade, catching it easily by the tip without looking, the motion smooth, automatic, and practiced. She offered the hilt over to the girl. "It is your right, as offended party, to carry out the sentence yourself, if you so wish."

To my incredible shock, the girl Kala reached out a hand, almost tentatively, and took the hilt of the quiva.

She could not do it, of course. She was a slave, and a slave belongs to her master, utterly.

The slender fingers tightened on the hilt. She did not seem to know how to hold the quiva properly, holding it as if she were about to slice bosk meat for the spit.

Her eyes turned to Braltek, and in them burned something like hate.

No. She was slave! A slave serves her master!

"Kala." Braltek's voice sounded suddenly uncertain. "Kala, I have treated you well, better than most would..."

Kala screamed then, high and furious and long, and flew at him. The quiva rose and fell.

She was inexpert with the weapon. The blade hit Braltek's shoulder, and slid down, slicing a long cut into his arm. Blood flowed, and Braltek yelled in shock.

The quiva rose and fell again. Again, again, again the girl struck, inexpert, but the wounds adding up one by one until Braltek lay in a pool of red-stained grass.

Kala dropped the quiva, and fell to her knees. She was sobbing, great wracking sobs that shook her small frame.

The she-sleen came down from her throne, went down to her knees beside the girl, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It is all right." Her voice was soft, and Kala leaned into her blindly, as a child might seek comfort from its mother. "He cannot hurt you again."

Some other girls came forward then; Kala was taken away with much patting of hair and comforting.

The she-sleen returned to her throne of rugs, sitting down once more. She smiled then, as if nothing had happened.

I, and the men chained as I, were silent. The shock had not yet sunk in.

"Had he a wife, or any children?" Systlin asked.

No one responded.

"Then it is my order that all the worldly possessions of Braltek now go to Kala. They are hers, to do with as she will. Bring forward the next prisoner." The she-sleen commanded.

49 notes · View notes

vashak · 3 years

Text

Eiji’s war

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Originally posted on 22 December 2019 in Turkish here.

No, I’m not done yet.

I previously wrote about how Eiji found a new purpose in life after meeting Ash and getting to know his world, which helped him come out of the depression he suffered back in Japan. But what exactly is Eiji’s new purpose in life? It’s saving Ash from his very “different” world.

In the beginning of the story, we saw how devastated Eiji was when he found out that Ash was ready to use his one and only trump card (the capsule containing the Banana Fish drug) against Golzine, knowing full well that he wouldn’t win.

Ash had risked his own life to save Eiji’s when he didn’t know him at all and now Eiji doesn’t have the heart to let him walk to his death. It’s like he’s thinking to himself, “How can a boy my age find himself in such an impasse?” This is the first time we see Eiji rebel against the world Ash’s living in.

But Eiji does more than silently shed tears, especially once things get more complicated. For example, here he’s basically telling Ash to quit doing things that would put him in harm’s way.

Later, when it becomes clear that there’s no “quitting” in this world (because they simply won’t let you), Eiji comes up with a different suggestion.

And this offer is so unexpected that Ash doesn’t understand at first. Eiji simply asks him again if he would like to come to Japan with him. He is presumably surprised that Ash was so taken aback by such a straightforward question. Ash’s surprise is telling me that he never even thought it would be possible to leave this life behind.

Eiji’s offer also means this: I forgive you. Going to Japan to start a new life means that Ash won’t have to account for all the bad things he did in the past. Ash doesn’t believe there’s such a possibility or that he deserves such a chance. So he averts his gaze and comes up with an excuse. I just realized that there’s a pattern here. When Ash makes such excuses, he always puts himself down as if to say he’s not worthy of Eiji’s offer. But then, as you’ll see in the scene below, he realizes that this attitude only serves to embarrass Eiji, so he stops and apologizes.

What this scene inherently tells us is just how ashamed Ash feels about the things he was forced to do all his life. It is also a good example of the difference in opinion between Ash and Eiji—while Ash thinks so little of himself, Eiji thinks the world of him.

When Eiji repeats his offer to go to Japan together a second time, he can’t stay so calm.

Because by then, Ash gave himself up to Golzine as hostage in exchange for Eiji’s life, underwent an eating disorder, started a guerilla war, got raped and is still fighting against commandos as they’re having this conversation.

This time, Ash tells him what he really thinks instead of coming up with excuses. He says “My hands are dirty with other people’s blood,” implying that he doesn’t deserve a fresh start. “But you had to. Or you would be killed yourself,” replies Eiji, whereas previously, when they were quarreling before Ash’s one-to-one fight with Arthur, Eiji had yelled “You are not the kind of man who shoots defenseless people!” to his face. It seems that Eiji has learned the cruel ways of Ash’s world since then.

There is another reason why Ash is not taking Eiji up on his offer besides thinking that he doesn’t deserve a fresh start. Ash thinks he’s a troublemaker and will put those around him in danger no matter where he is (I talked more about this here). And as expected, he tells Eiji exactly that: “I’m bad news, Eiji. Doesn’t matter where I go… And you’ll get caught up in it. Like you are now.”

We know by now that Eiji never even once stayed silent when Ash said something to stigmatize himself. He always told Ash otherwise and explained why in a perfectly logical way. All this time, he calmly and patiently fought against Ash’s toxic mindset. But this time, he’s had enough.

This is the first time Eiji puts his emotions into words in such a raw way. He literally screams how much he cares about Ash. And a minute later, he indisputably proves just how much by pushing Ash away and taking bullet for him.

This incident resets all the progress Eiji’s so far made to change Ash’s self-loathing mindset. The fact that Eiji almost died because of him and later Lao’s tirade against Ash in front of all the gang members (“He ain’t human! He’s a goddamn monster!”) make Ash feel ashamed and disgusted at himself.

Then comes the wretched hospital scene… This scene is drenched in symbolism, but it actually serves to make us understand one simple fact: Similar to how Eiji can’t survive in Ash’s world, Ash will never be accepted in Eiji’s world. Eiji’s not capable of protecting himself in Ash’s world. He’ll always be vulnerable as long as he stays there. And in Eiji’s world, Ash will never be accepted by others in the way Eiji accepts Ash. He’ll ultimately be seen as a criminal rather than a victim and will have to answer to the law for what he did.

So Ash enters the hospital. He’s been reminded in the most painful way that he can never be part of Eiji’s world and has come to say goodbye to his friend one last time. Eiji vaguely hears Ash’s accented “sayounara” and crawls out of bed with great difficulty to stop him from leaving (Ash can’t pronounce the second syllable long, but instead says “sa-yo-na-ra”). But just then, Charlie and Ibe-san notice Ash and come after him. Eiji knows that even if they have good intentions now, eventually Ash will be found guilty. And, for the first time in his life, Eiji tells Ash to leave him. He screams “Go!” with all his might. The anime adaptation did a wonderful job showing us how difficult this must have been for Eiji to do.

I think Eiji inherently knew that this was the last time he would see Ash. But he refused to believe it, because that would mean that he himself had surrendered to the fatalistic mindset that he was trying to liberate Ash from. So what does Eiji do next? What he does best, of course.

Remember when Eiji wanted to pass a message to Ash through his gang members when Ash tried to send him back to Japan without telling him? He asked Bones and Kong to tell Ash to “take care of his life” and that he would “always wish him luck” even from far away.

So this time, Eiji writes a letter to Ash in case he can’t see him before going to Japan. He pours in all that he feels. The letter ends up being the most earnest summary of everything Eiji has been trying to make Ash understand.

… You said to me before, “We live in different worlds” … We are friends. Isn’t that enough? … But I never felt scared of you, not even once … Actually, I always felt that you are hurt, much more than me—that your spirit is wounded … I always wanted to protect you … I think I wanted to protect you from your future … You can change your fate …

Eiji wants these words to accompany Ash while he’s away: “You are not alone, Ash. I am with you. My soul is always with you.” The one-way ticket to Japan he encloses with the letter serves as a reminder of his invitation. We know that Eiji had every intention of seeing Ash again from his thoughts on the plane. What didn’t cross his mind at all was without a doubt that Ash would draw his last breath as he read Eiji’s heartfelt words.

When it comes to Ash’s death, I feel overwhelmed with a series of unanswered questions as I previously indicated here and here. For example…

When Sing can’t get Ash to say anything to Eiji, he can’t bear to face Eiji empty-handed so he sees him off with a few made-up parting words in Ash’s stead (Aww, isn’t he precious?). Does Eiji ever realize this? Can he tell that Sing made up Ash’s parting words? I think he can. So does he ever confront Sing about this before or after Garden of Light? Who knows.

And just how much does Eiji know about Ash’s death? He knows that his letter distracted Ash, so he didn’t see Lao coming. But does he know that Ash had read part of his letter by then and started running to the airport? Does he know that Ash went back to the library after getting wounded to read the rest of his letter? Does he know that Ash laid his head on his letter and died with a smile on his face?

I really wish for a “yes” to these questions.

To me, the story of Banana Fish is more antagonistic towards Eiji than Ash. Yes, all the bad stuff happen to Ash but he’s never shocked that they do. The leopard has learned how harsh the ascent can be. Eiji, on the other hand, believes he can save Ash from this shitty world. He is proven wrong a number of times but he never stops believing that. As I mentioned in the answer to this ask, if you think about it, in the end Ash dies just like he knew he would.

He is stabbed by a street thug who held a grudge against him and dies just like that. In the end, he couldn’t change his fate like Eiji tried to make him believe. In the end, the leopard couldn’t climb down the mountain. But what’s remarkable is that Eiji never surrenders to Ash’s fatalistic mindset even after his death. Not even once. He never says things like “He was right after all and I was wrong. He couldn’t change his fate and trouble never ever left him alone.” Instead he says this:

The End

#thank you for reading this far!#eiji's war #banana fish #eiji okumura #banana fish manga #meta #analiz #yorum #banana fish türkçe #english #şekerli

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littlewitchwhore · 3 years

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Okay guys, here is the first short story I'm posting.

TW: Rape, murder, some gore, racism, sexism, homophobia, a critique of the southern US, and christian references.

I do not condone actual rape, murder, racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. This is just fantasy.

And now, I present

The Hunting of Sonya.

It had been three weeks since the executive order was given. Three weeks of running from abandoned shack to drainage pipe to thickets of trees where she might be safe. Three weeks of praying to whatever would listen that she not be found. Tonight, it seems her prayers might not be answered.

Whatever progress social justice and racial equality might have made in the past years has been violently set back. It started with feminist and pro-black movements constantly being undermined by themselves and their lack of cohesion. With no set leaders and ideas, no reliable code of conduct, and no unifying goals, the members had no direction for their justified anger to be aimed at, and nothing to hold them back from extreme measures. The first major riot happened a year ago, when several peaceful protesters were shot by a couple of trigger happy cops. They didn't stay peaceful.

In one of the most gruesome incidents in recent history, those two cops, and a few others with them, were overwhelmed and beaten to death. But the death of those cops was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a month, riots were taking place in every major city in America, with from people on both sides of the argument killing, and burning the homes and business of those they fought against. A civil war seemed inevitable. Then the election happened, as it does every four years, and a very conservative candidate, on a platform of returning the country to a state of peace and prosperity, undertoned with heavy racist and sexist messages, was elected by a narrow majority. Within two weeks, there were soldiers in every city to keep the peace, and strict laws were enacted severely limiting the rights of groups that were deemed to be the aggressors in the conflict; blacks and women. And the new president was cheered, because the bloodshed mostly ended. The laws and military presence, he had always said, were to be removed after a period of time, when the country was stable again.

But after several months, and a couple isolated riots, the laws were not gone. They got worse. Blacks and women stopped being able to gather in groups larger than 5. They stopped being able to purchase and own firearms. They were even stripped of properties and business, since those could be potential staging points for further violent action. Then they stopped being able to vote after a local election put a violent but charismatic thug up as mayor, who then tried to mobilize a whole town to war against the new president. Then came the executive order that stripped citizenship and all rights from blacks and women. Black people were given a week to leave the country or be deported or turned to slaves. Women fared little better, being reduced to honored servants to white men, and bargaining chips in men's deals. In a year, America had gone from the bastion of liberty and social activism to an authoritarian, patriarchal ethno-state. And the rest of the world, being crippled by their own social and economic issues, and being utterly unable to fathom summoning the military might needed to take on the United States, let it happen.

Sonya was unlucky. She had had the misfortune of residing in Louisiana when the order came down. You see, most people had the decency to let the blacks pack up their things and make for the borders and airports. Most empathized with the plight of the now refugees, even. But the south has always been a little backwards, hasn't it? Large groups of would be slavers started patrolling and detaining blacks and lone women who they could snatch up, after all, it was only illegal to do so for a week. So when Sonya and her family had made for the border, they were taken by one of these bands of slavers. Her father had been beaten mercilessly, and killed when he fought back, her younger brother put in chains, and her mother and sister were gangraped in front of her. She would have suffered the same fate, but when they went to strip her, she caught a fat one by surprise and was able to run, handcuffed and clothes torn, into the woods.

She had barely managed to stay ahead of the men chasing her. It took her three days to finally find an old shack that had a rusty saw she used to cut the chain on the cuffs, so she could use her arms, though the cuffs themselves remained tightly around her wrists. She might have been able to saw those off too, had it not been for the owner of the shed finding her. He was not sympathetic. She had actually had to kill him to escape, after he pulled a machete off the wall and tried to kill her. She didn't escape unharmed though, and her leg was badly cut. At the time, she didnt worry about it too much, since she had to get away, but after a week of running and hiding in hovels and drainpipes, she feared infection. It certainly wasn't getting any better, and was starting to smell. And her killing the man made the men chasing her all the more obsessed with finding her. Now, she wasn't just a 'little nigger whore who needs to learn her place,' as one of them had said, she was a violent, murdering runaway slave.

Now, she finally had a chance to rest. She had made her way out of the more populated areas and was close to the bayou. She figured if there was a chance at finding help from other black folks, it would be in the places the white folk didn't like to go. Besides, her cousin Tyrell was probably still around the area, he always liked to fight and wouldn't have left. At least, that's what she hoped. She was hiding in another drainage pipe beside a small highway. It was raining, and the pipe was half flooded, but she hadn't seen but two trucks all day, so she felt safer and more comfortable than she had in a year.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute, hoping for some sleep, when she heard the engine approaching. It was a truck, by the sound of it, and it was moving slowly. It stopped very close to where she was hiding. Panic shot through her like a blade of ice. How could they have found her? Wasn't she well hidden? They never found her in a drainpipe before! She got very still, and listened intently while being poised to spring from her hiding spot and run as fast as her badly wounded leg would allow into the woods nearby, just across the pasture she was next to.

A door slammed, and a very angry sounding man's voice was soon heard berating his truck for its many faults as her went about adjusting something under the hood. After a few moments, the man cursed again and determined it was the battery that was the issue. Another moment passed, and the rain let up, letting Sonya hear things clearly. There was quiet, then a door opened, and the man said, “Hey Bubba, i'm broke down 'bout 15 minutes outta Reeves, down up on 113... Yea, daggum battery bit it 'gain, third time this week. You think you could come on up this way and gimmie a little ol' jump? Alright, well I 'preciate that, brother... yea, i'll see you soon... Yea, see you then.”

Sonya relaxed a little, fairly certain that she wasn't in any more danger than she had been, and waited for a while. After what felt like an hour, another truck, a much healthier sounding truck, rolled up. There was a greeting, and after what Sonya presumed was an examination of the broken down truck by Bubba, the truck was jumped off, rather unhappily. “Now listen, if this truck is needing to get jumped off this much, you either need a new battery, or your alternators busted. You need to get this truck to the shop and get it fixed tomorrow, if it'll even start.”

There was a couple minutes of bullshitting between the two men, and at one point, Bubba expressed an interest in finding a “little house slave” for himself, since his brother found one and was apparently very pleased with her. They seemed to be wrapping up when the first man, who was called 'Red' declared that he had to piss. Sonya jumped a little in surprise when the stream of urine landed right next to her. The pissing stopped abruptly.

“You heard that, Bubba?”

“I ain't heard shit but your fucked up engine.”

“No, somethings in that drainpipe. Coon or sumin.”

Sonya tensed up again. Was this it? Would they find her? Could she take on two of them? Could she outrun them? Those and a thousand more questions leaped through her mind in those few seconds. She readied herself to lunge at whoever stuck their face in the pipe first, then bolt for the fence. Maybe she'd be able to make it, she had always been fast before her leg was cut, even running track in highschool. For a moment, she wished that she was back then, only two years ago, but a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. She couldn't wish long, however, because a light was shone directly in her face, the flashlight from a phone, and one of the men right behind it. She lunged, fist first at the light, and was rewarded by a startled yelp from the man, followed by the soft crunch of a broken nose under her fist.

The man fell backwards, his phone flew from his hand, and Sonya landed on top of him. A moment later, she brought the metal cuffs around her wrists down on his face together, then jumped up, unsteadily in the wet ditch and on her injured leg, and bolted for the fence. The other man, on the road still, called out to Red, and started rushing over, still processing what was happening. Sonya had the upperhand though, and was scrambling over the barbed wire before the second man actually recognized that it was a human who attacked his friend. But Sonya was unlucky, and as she was getting her injured leg over, one of the wires snapped, and she felt hard, her injured leg being dragged across the remaining wires, cutting her, and tearing the strip of dirty tee shirt that she had wrapped her wound in, off. Minutes later, she was across the small pasture, at the treeline, and she risked a look back. They weren't chasing her, at least not yet. Sonya breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and took off into the trees. Even if they weren't hot on her tracks, they likely would be.

Sonya watched the sun rise the next morning, and with the light, she could inspect her leg. It was definitely infected, a puffy, angry gash that slowly oozed a foul smelling, dark green pus, tinged with streaks of blood. She needed antibiotics or she was going to have very serious issues very soon. Hungry and weak from irregular meals, dehydrated and exhausted, and badly injured, she needed a break, a safe place. The rest of that day was spent trying to find food, clean water, and someplace with medicine. She found none of those things, and as the sun was setting, she resigned herself to an awful night under a tree, and wished for more rain, so she could catch a few drops with her mouth. But Sonya was unlucky.

She dreamt of awful things that night, as she often did these days, when she could dream. She dreamt of monsters rising out of murky pools to chase her, and of spiders bursting from her leg wound to consume her. She dreamt of her father's face, broken and bloody, his lifeless eyes staring at her and he whispered “Run.” She dreamt of her mother and sister being raped, but the men doing it were red skinned and horned breasts, with massive cocks that writhed like boas and strangled her mother, and tore her sister in half. And she dreamt of the hounds of hell chasing her from the scene, and into a void that wasn't there before. She turned and the hellhouds were gone but they howled still, from somewhere in the distance. The howling seemed to get louder and come from all around her, and she turned about quickly, trying to find the source of it before snapping awake in a cold sweat. The howling didn't fade with the rest of her dream, no, it was actually getting louder. It was real. And Sonya had been in the area long enough to recognize the baying of hunting dogs when she heard it. She knew that they bayed for her, and without thinking about it, she took off away from the sound, clearly from the direction she had come.

She limped through the woods as fast as she could on her increasingly lame leg, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder around her. They couldn't be far, at this point, she thought to herself, they were just too loud. Her lungs were burning, her leg no longer in pain, just numb, her heart pounded in her chest from fear and the exertion, and her head throbbing because she was too tired. She stumbled over tricky roots in the pale moonlight and fell hard, barely raising her hands in time to stop from busting her face open. As she struggled to her feet, the howls of the hounds like sinister thunder around her, she knew running wouldn't work. Maybe she could hide in a tree? Better than being torn apart by hounds with fiery eyes. She cast her eyes about wildly, looking for a tree she could climb, and settled on a young oak with low hanging branches. She scrambled up the tree as fast as she could, with great difficulty, as her arms were weak and shaky, and one of her legs was useless. She managed to get onto a good branch just as the dogs, three of them, rushed the tree, howling and snapping at her heels.

Whoever was hunting her, Red and Bubba, maybe the fat one she escaped, she didnt know, but whoever it was was no friend of hers, and they would be here soon. And she was a treed coon, waiting for the slaughter up here. What were her options? If it were one dog, maybe she could jump on it and keep running, but three? No chance. She couldn't wait for the men to find her, her fate would be sealed. Maybe she could move to another tree and hope the dogs don't notice? Not like she had another choice. She went higher, hoping to get more leaves and distance between her and the watchful hounds. Near the top of the tree, not as high as she might have liked, she found her chance to move trees, a pine branch that came very close to hers. She balanced as best she could on her branch, holding onto a higher one for support, and slowly crept her way along the branch to the end. She reached out and grabbed a thin pine branch above the one she wanted to step to, and hoped that it would support her if she lost her balance. One foot went across the gap, her lame leg's. So far so good, now if she could just...

A branch snapped, and Sonya fell. She landed on her bad leg and felt a hot gush from her wound as something burst, then the pain was too much, and she passed out, luckily, before the first dog's teeth found their mark.

It seemed to Sonya like an unnaturally long, and unusually uneventful unconsciousness. It was long enough and stark enough for her to actively think to herself that she should have woken up by now. Was she dead? It had been a long fall... Maybe the hell hounds has finished her off? Wouldn't surprise her, she supposed, but don't they usually drag someone down to hell? Maybe this was hell? Seemed too quiet though, hell was supposed to be bright and painful. So this was.... Purgatory? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought. At least here she wasn't someone's slave to rape. And her leg was better! At least, she thought it might be. She couldn't see anything, but she couldn't feel any pain either. She definitely still felt like she had a body, though. But death was supposed to remove you from your body, so...

She was woken suddenly, by a door opening. Her eyes flashed open and the light stung, so she shut them tight again. Then her head burst into pain from somewhere inside, and she became aware of the rest of her pain too. Her hand stung like it had been flayed, the left side of her chest ached, and her wrist was almost certainly broken. Her leg, however, didn't hurt much at all, just throbbed slightly in time with her heartbeat. She groaned as the pain hit her, and she felt woozy and sick.

“Well, look who's up. My you gave quite a fight. Oh no, don't you try and move yet.” Sonya had, of course, tried to get up, but the effort was too much, and she merely rolled over and tried to vomit, but found she couldn't. “Yeah, when you gone and broke ol' Red's nose like that, well, we didn't take very kindly.” She opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting to the brightness of it all. The man speaking was Bubba, she recognized the voice. It seems that once again, Sonya was unlucky; this time because she wasn't dead. She managed to give the man a glare, to which he chuckled.

“Now, is that any way to treat the man who been takin' care of you? Why, I coulda' let them dogs go and have their way with your leg there, lord knows it smelled bad enough to be some sorta snack for 'em.” She looked at her leg, and saw it was bandaged properly, her hand and opposite wrist too. She also saw that apart from her bandages, and a large metal cuff around her good ankle, she was naked. There was nothing for her to cover herself with either. She looked back at Bubba, who was watching her closely.

“L...le...” She tried to speak but her throat was more parched than she'd known it could be. As her mouth tried to form words, her lips cracked painfully. “Bet you're mighty thirsty, ain't ya'?” Bubba said as he pulled a water bottle from a nearby case of them. He walked over to her, and squatted, so her was closer to her level. “Now, I don't care for things being the way they are. And I am sorry about you and your kin goin' through this. I had a few good buddies of the African persuasion. But I also had a brother, bout half a year back. Your kind decided his life was worth less than a message.” Bubba unscrewed the bottle of water and put it down, just outside of Sonya's reach. “You're lucky you're a pretty little negress. Means you might not have such a bad life, if you ever learn how to act right. Time's they are a-changin'. Now you gotta get used to that fact real quick. You can't be doing that runnin' 'roun' throwin' hands business no more. You are a slave now. You act nice and you look pretty, and you don't throw no fit when a man decides you're better used in bed than the kitchen. You got that?”

Sonya glared again at him, but she didn't have much strength left to try to fight the notion, nor did she think she would get any water if she did. She begrudgingly nodded, to which Bubba smiled. “Good. Now imma' give you this water here, and you're gon' sip it real slow like, because you drink too much at once and you're gonna throw up. Then, imma' go and find you something to eat, so you don't waste away there. And when I come back, you're gonna thank me for being so nice and considerate, and for my attentive care to your wounds.” He moved the water where she could reach it, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. Sonya grabbed the water and sipped, as she was bid, since that was all good advice. The cool water actually hurt going down, but she had never known something so wonderful before.

She was alone in the room now, sipping water as fast as she figured she could keep it down. It was a small room, dark brown carpet only a few shades lighter than her skin. The walls were fake wood paneling, the ceiling white and popcorned. The walls were bare, save for a single window, boarded up. There was no furniture in the room. The cuff around her ankle was connected with a thick chain to the only thing of note (besides the case of water by the door) in the room, a large chest freezer, which the sat on top of the chain, effectively keeping her leashed. She tried to think of some way to escape, but her options seemed very limited. And until she had some strength back, there was no way she could get far, even if she did find a way to leave.

Her planning was disturbed by Bubba coming back, this time carrying a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips on it, The breakfast of kings. He walked over and placed the plate down where he had put the bottle of water, just out of her reach. “Now, I reckon you can speak again, since most of that water is gone. As I recall, you owe me some gratitude.” She looked at him, and with sincerity, she said “Th-thank you. For my leg, and the water.” Then, “Please, let me go. I didn't do nothing to deserve this.”

Bubba gave her a look, not cruel or uncaring, a look that was close to sympathy. “I know, I don't believe that half of your kind did. But if I were to let you go, how far do you reckon you'd make it on that leg of yours? Oh I cleaned it up, been rubbing it with antibiotic cream, even got my vet to come stitch it up a bit. But you ain't gonna be using that leg for another week, if you're lucky.” He gave her a look, up and down, “You don't strike me as the lucky type.” He sighed. “And before you ask me to try to sneak you out of the country, you should know that all the borders are locked down tighter than a faggot's jeans. No, you're stuck here, and that's all she wrote 'bout that.” The way he said it was soft, like he was trying to be kind about delivering such horrid news. He gently pushed the plate of food withing her reach. “You best get that food in you, gotta get some strength to heal up, else you wont be as useful to your new owner. You're gonna be safe here while you heal up, and after that, the boys and I are gonna make sure you know to act civil and can perform the duties that men are lookin' for in a house slave.”

Over the next week or two, Sonya couldn't quite tell because of the lack of sunlight, Bubba proved to be a rather hospitable captor. He was never cruel to her, ensured that she was fed and well hydrated, and took special care of her injuries. He had even given her a small pillow and an old blanket, but warned her that she shouldn't get used to comforts like that. And perhaps most notably, he never touched her but to clean and bandage her wounds. She was kept naked, and told “You're probably gonna be kept naked wherever you go, and if I were to give you any clothes, they'd just be taken from you. No, better to get used to being on display now.” when she asked for a shirt. But despite her nakedness, Bubba didn't stare at her either. Maybe he really did feel bad about this whole thing. Not that it stopped him from selling her, that's just business. The world changed, and Bubba was quick to adapt to what brought home bread. But for a time, she was safe, and could process what had happened. She cried herself to sleep nightly, and would often weep in her waking hours. Her dreams were mostly memories, always ending with that awful night, her father's face with dead, sightless eyes, her mother's look of grim determination and resignation, her sister's tear streaked screams. Sonya doubted she would ever forget, and knew that she would never forgive. She decided that her survival was now a matter of biding her time, staying as safe as she could, waiting for a chance to escape the country. Or maybe she'd be able to last until the global community worked together to get fix the atrocities committed in the past year. Either way, running wasn't an option for her. She had to endure.

The peaceful time with Bubba was short lived, because once she was mostly healed, Bubba brought 'the boys' over. Three of them, Red being among them, clearly identified by the recently broken nose and a fresh scar on his brow. Bubba spoke first. “Now, you know how things are, and what you need to do. Show these boys here that you ain't got no fight, and they're like to take it easy on you. 'Cept Red, he's still mad about his nose, even if it does make him look better.” The guys chuckled and Bubba gave one last look at her, laden with meaning, then left and closed the door. The remaining men started really looking at her, lust obvious in their eyes.

It was quiet for a long moment before Sonya stood up and, resigning herself to endurance, bent over the freezer, closed her eyes, and started to pray.

#Sonya #Storytime

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alirhi · 3 years

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okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

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cora-vizsla · 4 years

Text

The Kings Pet (4)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Angst. Like this entire thing is angst. Feelings of loss. Kidnapping. Drugged (not in great detail). Unwanted sexual advances (nothing happens and no one is hurt or touched but it is presumed it would have happened if reader wasn’t a badass). Boba Fett doing what Boba Fett does. Cannon typical violence (reader can hear it happening but doesn’t see anything). Nothing super gory. Sex. Unprotected sex (established relationship). Fluff.

A/N: There is talk of a new character wanting sexual contact with reader that she does not reciprocate. Nothing happens and it is stopped long before it could happen. Boba Fett loses his absolute shit and beats the hell out of someone but reader does not see it. I tried to write this in a way that would get the point across without being too graphic. There is a LOT of angst in this. Please be prepared for that! If you aren’t sure if this would trigger you or upset you, please feel free to send me a message or ask and we can discuss it. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable! As always, if there are any warnings I miss please let me know!

Things felt different after your time with Boba and Fennec. You couldn’t really attribute it to the actual sex aspect of things because Fennec had always been physically close to you. She still pulled you onto her lap or sat on the arm of the throne and played with your hair. It was hard to admit but no one but you were really acting any differently.

Nothing physically had changed but you felt different. You woke up in the mornings and went through your normal routine. You ended up on the floor on your pillow, but you found yourself afraid to lean on your king’s leg. You could feel him looking at you, but he never asked what was wrong. You figured it didn’t matter as long as you were doing what he wanted of you. You still slept in his bed and whenever he wanted something you were more than enthusiastic. It was the only time you felt like you were actually worth much to him.

The days passed as they normally did. Boba stayed home more healing from his injuries. Din came to visit and update the king on what was happening with Bo Katan. The more you heard about her the more you disliked her. She seemed stuck up and you hoped you didn’t need to meet her. Not that you would ever say that since it wasn’t up to you who walked into Boba’s palace.

Din looked at you often, but you didn’t move. He asked you questions every now and then, truthfully trying to be friendly, but you never had much to say. You’d answer his questions in a nice way, but you could feel there wasn’t much behind your words. He seemed to notice when he would sigh and give up trying to talk to you.

What made it worse was when Boba and Din started speaking only in Mando’a around each other. You were never sent away but they stopped using basic. You would have been able to understand even huttese but their native language was far too complicated and foreign to you. You did glance up when you heard Boba say mesh’la and occasionally Din would motion towards you. The fear and idea of Boba not wanting you anymore kept you silent and unwilling to even ask what was going on.

The moment you realized he was done with you was when he commanded you to leave the throne room. New guests had come in and he immediately told you to leave. It startled you but you obeyed immediately. Fennec didn’t even watch you walk by and it shattered your heart. You were so busy being hurt that you had missed the way he had tensed when they walked in. You had missed the threatening demeanor and the way that the guest leered at you. All you could focus on was the fact he didn’t want you.

Later that day Boba stormed into the room and said he was leaving. You stayed curled up on the bed and gave him a weak nod. He looked at you but made no move to touch you.

“When I return, we need to talk.”

“Yes sir.”

Tears slipped from your eyes when he left the room, wearing all of his gear. Fennec came in and checked on you a few times, but you didn’t speak to her other than to let her know that you were fine and didn’t need anything. You couldn’t bear to look at her knowing that soon you would be gone. You silently cried until there was no way you could anymore.

It was late, definitely dark already, before you climbed out of bed. You walked into the empty throne room and ran your fingers across the seat the man you cared so much about sat on every day. You would miss more than anything just being close to him. You sat on your pillow and leaned back against the cool material behind you.

“I’m going to miss you, Boba.”

You whispered the words but jumped when you heard a laugh come from the stairs entering the room. You stood up as three men walked in, hands on their blasters. You tried to pinpoint who they were, but you couldn’t figure out where you had seen them before.

“Did the king leave his little pet all alone?”

“It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Poor little pet. Do you need company?”

You stiffened and their voiced flooded back into your memory. They were the men that came in when Boba sent you away. You glanced over at the side to see if Fennec was near but whipped your head back towards the men when you heard a blaster click. It was pointed directly at you.

“Don’t do something stupid, doll face. If you do anything other than breathe and what we tell you to do, Boba Fett will find you dead on the floor when he comes back.”

They had been slowly moving towards you, hunting their prey. When they got close enough, the one to your left grabbed you and pulled you off the raised floor you were on. You yelped when you crashed to the floor and he laughed at you.

“I can see why he keeps you. You are a beautiful little thing on your knees.”

“Shut up. We need her in one piece. Cuff her and let’s go.”

“Alright, boss. Whatever you say.”

He hooked your arm and twisted it behind you, hooking binders to your wrist. He did the same with the other arm right after. You stumbled when he pulled you forward, trying to resist as much as you could.

“We don’t have time for this.”

You felt a sharp prick on your neck, and everything went dark.

---

Your eyes started to flutter open and you groaned. Your hands were still bound behind your back, but you were laying on your stomach. The mattress below you was dirty and you grimaced that your face was touching it. With a grunt you twisted so you could sit up.

“Finally awake. Thought maybe we had killed you.”

You looked over to your captors sitting at a small round table playing cards. The entire room was dark and cold. It still felt dry, so you wondered if you were underground somewhere on Tattooine.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Day or so. My associate gave you far too much sedative.”

You shivered at the memory of the needle hitting you. You shift your body so you could lean back against the wall and keep most of the pressure off your arms. You looked down at the chain hooked to the bracers that was firmly anchored into the wall. There wasn’t much chance of getting away.

“Why did you take me?”

The one who kept answering you scoffed and looked at you incredulously.

“You’re Boba Fetts property. When he comes looking for you, he will have to pay. Do you know how many credits we can get for the Kings pet?”

You felt your chest deflate and he noticed.

“What?”

“He was about to kick me out. He didn’t want me anymore. No one will come looking for me.”

You looked down at your knees and felt tears sting your eyes again.

“Well, we will give it a few days. If he doesn’t; you’ll still fetch a pretty penny to the right buyer.”

You curled into yourself knowing that no one would be rescuing you. You had accepted that you needed to leave but you weren’t planning on being sold off. You wished you had opened up to Din more. Maybe he would have looked for you if you hadn’t been such a pain in the ass. Fennec too. Boba didn’t want you but maybe the other two would have a shred of decency for you.

You cried while you sat and listened to them talk. They switched from basic to Huttese even though you knew it. You didn’t let them know that you knew they were going to sell you to a Hutt if Boba didn’t find you. The Hutt’s hated Boba with a passion for not stopping Jaba from getting killed so they would be thrilled to own his pet. They just weren’t going to tell them that he had already grown bored of you.

Once night fell, they decided to take turns staying up to make sure you didn’t try to break your chain. The first one was the one who had drugged you. You didn’t like how he leered at you or some of the comments he made about your legs. Though you fought it, you finally started to fall asleep. You startled awake when you heard him walking closer to you.

“Calm down, doll face. We don’t want the other guys coming out, right?”

You nodded and bit back your anger. You were fine with Boba owning you because you loved him. It was an agreement, not something being forced on you. You stomach churned thinking about anyone else touching you. As soon as he got close enough, you smashed your forehead into his nose. It hurt like hell but the blood pouring from his now broken nose was satisfying.

“You bitch!”

He backhanded you hard enough for you to taste copper in your mouth. You spit the blood in his face, and he reared back just in time for the other guys to run out.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Are you kidding me!?”

They yanked him away. One dragged him back towards where the rooms were, and their leader grabbed your chin to check your face out.

“Is that your plan now? Let your guys rape me until someone buys me?”

“Fuck. He wasn’t.. what he did wasn’t acceptable. For that I am sorry. I’ll deal with him.”

“You’re all lucky Boba isn’t looking for me. He doesn’t like people touching what is his.”

His face paled slightly as he cleaned up your face. You had a cut on your face, and it felt like you were going to have a black eye from the headbutt. Once he was done cleaning you up, he walked away and shouting ensued from the back rooms. You finally fell asleep hoping that no one would touch you.

---

You woke up to loud noises and blaster fire. You curled into yourself hoping no stray shot would hit you. There was a loud thud and yelling, telling no one to move. You flinched when heavy footsteps got closer and a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, hey. It’s me.”

You looked up to see Din kneeling in front of you. He unhooked the bracers quickly letting you rub at your wrists. He looked at them then up at your face. You winced when he gently grabbed your chin and moved your face to look at the damage.

“Is she okay?”

You winced again at the gravelly voice you knew to be Boba’s. Din looked back at him and shook his head.

“She’s hurt.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

You saw that the two left were the ones working for the one presumably dead on the floor. The one you had the least interaction with tried to explain but Boba shot him before he could say much. He stalked forward and grabbed the one who had tried to hurt you and slammed him against the wall.

“Answer me. Now.”

“Nothing. Tried to use her for what she’s good for but the stupid bitch headbutt me.”

“What she’s good for?”

Boba’s head tilted just slightly to the right. The man in front of him had no idea just how dangerous that was.

“Figured since she was known for you being your little slut you had her trained right. Guess not.”

Boba growled and grabbed him by the throat.

“She is mine.”

You winced when the crack of bone rang out in the small room as his face was met by a fist. He continued punching him over and over. A sob slipped through your lips and Din pulled you to him.

“Don’t look. Hold onto me and I’ll get you out of here.”

The silver Mandalorian wrapped his arms around you and carried you out of the room as Boba continued to beat on the man who presumably would have raped you if given the chance. You desperately wanted to get the sickening sound out of your head, so you focused in on Dins voice.

“Did he?”

“No. I fought back, and the other guys pulled him away. It wasn’t.. it wasn’t their plan.”

Once you were outside Din set you down and knelt in front of you, inspecting your injuries more thoroughly. You hissed when his fingers touched too close to your wounds and he huffed a sigh.

“Fennec should have medical supplies to take care of you. Once Boba-“

You both looked over at the sound of his spurs got closer. His shoulders were taught, and you shivered at the blood he had spattered on the front of his armor. He looked down at you, so you averted your eyes quickly. He balled his fists and started walking.

“Time to go back.”

Din helped you to your feet and you clung to his arm. Your legs weren’t hurt but they were cramping from sitting for too long. You pushed through and all three of you climbed into Slave I. No one spoke a word on the short flight back to the palace. When the ramp descended Fennec was waiting. She huffed out a sigh of relief when she saw you, but Boba quickly got in her face.

“This is your fault. You had one job and it was to protect her until I got back.”

“I-it was my fault. Boba, it wasn’t anything that Fennec did. I walked-“

He whipped around and pointed at you effectively shutting you up.

“We will speak later. This has nothing to do with you.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and walked around them, heading into the palace. You heard Din’s feet behind you, but you stopped. You had no idea where you were going. Boba had been wanting to tell you to leave, that much you knew. You knew it deep in your soul. You didn’t feel right going to his room and Fennec was going to be furious at you.

“Why don’t you sit down, and I can take care of that cut?”

“I’m fine but thank you.”

Din said your name, your real name, and you turned to look at him.

“You need your wounds looked at. Let me do it. Please.”

You finally nodded and he led you over to the raised floor by the throne. He stood to your side by your knees and gently pat at the cut on your face with the medical supplies that had been sitting there. You started crying so he stopped quickly.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Sorry. No. It wasn’t anything that you did. I.. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated but started cleaning the cut again.

“The bruise is going to be nasty. You headbutt him?”

“I didn’t want him to touch me and my hands were tied.”

“I’m not chastising you. It’s impressive. My headbutts usually leave me less damaged. Maybe I need to get you a helmet.”

You gave him a teary laugh and smiled.

“I don’t have any bacta but I think you’ll be okay. Shouldn’t scar as long as you take care of it.”

“Thanks, Din.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do?”

You looked up at him and took a deep breath.

“If.. When Boba.. will you take me with you? I don’t care if you drop me off on a random planet I just.. I can’t be out on my own on Tattooine again.”

“You don’t want to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here but.. He’s going to tell me to leave. Especially now. He wasted his time looking for me when he had so many other things to do. He’s saved my life twice now.”

“If he didn’t want to look for you, he wouldn’t have. What is this about?”

“He thinks.. he thinks I’m only here to use him. You heard what he said. He thinks I’m only here because I benefit from it. He keeps Fennec here to make sure I don’t run. He doesn’t trust me and he.. he doesn’t want me the way I want him.”

You hiccupped a sob and covered your mouth, trying to calm yourself down.

“When he was hurt you mean? I told you not to take that personally. He was injured and scared.”

“No. He keeps Fennec here all the time. Even before that. It’s so I don’t run.”

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately? Boba thought he did something wrong.”

“What? No! No I just.. everything he did I could tell that he was getting tired of me.”

Din stood up tall and looked down at you. Boba was making his way down the stairs and walked directly to you. You clenched your jaw at the blood all over him and shivered. He grabbed your chin more gently than you expected and looked at the bruises and cut.

“I cleaned them up for her. I don’t have any bacta.”

“I just sent Fennec for some”

He picked up your hands and looked at your wrists, swearing under his breath.

“You need rest. Go lay down.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“I’m not asking.”

He looked down at you but with his helmet on you weren’t sure just how angry he was. You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and went back to the bedroom. You heard the two of them starting to speak in Mando’a and you wished desperately you knew what they were saying. Once you were in the bedroom you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. The entire room smelled like him and it hurt knowing you soon wouldn’t be there anymore. Your mind was racing and the last thing you wanted to do was sleep.

“I told you to lay down.”

You jumped at the voice and saw Boba with his helmet off leaning against the doorway.

“S-sorry.”

He pulled his armor off and set it down before walking to you. He knelt down and moved so he was between your knees. He put his hands on your thighs and you internally cursed knowing he would feel how much you were shaking.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I.. I went into the throne room for.. they came in and held a blaster to me. It was late and Fennec was already asleep. It wasn’t her fault please don’t be mad-“

“What happened next?”

“They put the binders on me behind my back and when I tried to stop them from taking me, they gave me drugs. I don’t know what they were, but I was out for almost a day they said. They laughed and said they thought they killed me.”

Boba growled and tensed his hands slightly.

“What next?”

“They told me that you would pay for me. They were just waiting for you to get ahold of them and pay whatever fee they named. But I told them that you wouldn’t be coming to find me so they started finding a Hutt that would buy me instead.”

“Why wouldn’t I have come to get you?”

“I.. I know that you’ve grown tired of me and I’m becoming more of a-“

“Who said that?”

He snapped at you and you shrunk away from him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who told you that?”

“N-no one. I could see it. When you were hurt you.. you said that you knew I was only here because of what you could give me. Fennec is here to keep me from running. I owe you and I can never give you enough to repay that. Now you’ve saved me again and I have nothing to give you. You don’t even trust me not to bolt out the door.”

He fell silent and tears started falling again. He said your name gently and motioned for you to look at him fully.

“I never should have said that to you. Mesh’la, I don’t think you’re going to run. It’s what I fear. I fear that one morning I will wake up and you will be gone. I will not hold you against your will and I fear that you stay because you do feel like you owe me. You owe me nothing.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, you silly girl. I care for you very deeply. Your insecurities are not one sided. I often find myself wondering why such a beautiful woman would want to stay with a scarred old man like me.”

“Boba, you mean everything to me. I just want to make you happy and be by your side. You started talking to Din in Mando’a and then sent me away so I thought..”

“We were speaking of you. We were trying to figure out how to talk to you. Din tried but you were so shut off he didn’t think he was making progress.”

“You’ve never sent me away before.”

“I knew they were trouble. And they were. They took you from me.”

He cupped both sides of your face gently and gave you a gentle smile.

“If it is your wish to leave, I will not stop you though I would be devastated to see you go. However, no one will ever take you from me. I will scour the galaxy to find you and keep you safe. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I gave those men mercy for killing them quickly. Well, two of them at least.”

“The one you beat was the one that want to...”

“I know, mesh’la. I am so sorry you had to go through that. He will never touch you again. No one will unless it’s what you want.”

You nodded at him, still nervous to look him directly in the eyes. He pulled you to his chest and held you tight. You tentatively wrapped your arms around him in return.

“Did I scare you?”

“What?”

“When I hurt them. Did I scare you?”

“A little. Just the sound.”

“The sound?”

“I could hear his bones snapping.”

“Sounded satisfying to me.”

You looked up at him with a skeptical look, so he laughed at you.

“I am not a soft man, mesh’la. I will always do what it takes even if that means killing. They were not the first and they will not be the last.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect you to kill for me.”

“There are very few I wouldn’t kill for you.”

“Are you mad at Fennec?”

He sighed and moved to sit down next to you. Once he did, he pulled you, so you were straddling him.

“Yes. She should have stayed in here with you. We all could tell something was wrong. She thought you were upset with her.”

“Why would I be upset with her? She’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“You started acting different after you let her touch you.”

You felt your face flush and shook your head.

“No. I wasn’t ever upset about that. It was because I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“Never.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to be here. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

“Oh.”

“My sweet girl, I am so sorry that my actions made you believe I didn’t want you to be here. When I have to go you are what keeps me coming back. You are one of the very few things that have brought me happiness in my very dark life.”

He kissed you more gently than he ever had before. You sighed and finally let yourself melt into his arms. You knew that you had been keeping yourself away from him for the most part but even before that, he never showed that much passion or care when he would touch you. It was more than you ever could have hoped for.

“You may be my pet, my princess, but you hold so much power over me. I can’t promise you an easy life, but I will always make it as enjoyable for you as I can.”

You nodded; any words you possibly could have responded with caught in your throat.

“Din told me you asked to go with him. Is that what you want?”

“No. I just couldn’t stay on this maker forsaken planet without you.”

“You never have to.”

He stood, turning so he could gently lay you down on the bed. He pulled everything but his pants off and climbed in next to you. He gently ran his fingers across your bruised face and swore in a mix of Basic and Mado’a.

“I must look like a mess.”

“You are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You felt your face flush, so you turned away from him. He gently turned you back to face him with a sound of annoyance.

“Don’t hide from me, mesh’la.”

He kissed you again, gently, careful not to hurt you. His hands ran down your body and started to slowly and gently pull your clothes off. Part of you was terrified of him seeing more bruises but you shuddered when you remembered how dirty the bed was that you were on. Getting the clothes off would be a blessing. Once all of your clothes were discarded, he found each bruise and mark on your body and kissed them gently. You felt like your chest was going to cave in at how adored and cherished you felt. It wasn’t something you thought you would ever get from Boba.

“I am so sorry, cyar’ika. I will never let anyone touch you again. I’ll destroy planets just to keep you safe.”

“Come here.”

He looked up at you with dark eyes, blown wide with lust and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You were suddenly afraid of him chastising you for trying to break out of your dynamic. You had never tried to be anything but obedient. Instead, he moved up, gently pulling your legs so they were wrapped around his waist. He held himself above you and kissed you gently.

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika. Tell me what you need.”

“You. I just need you.”

He slipped his pants off and discarded them on the floor quickly, moving back to you. He kissed you deeply again, stealing your breath. When he gently pressed himself into you, a soft moan slipped from your lips. You had been intimate with him when you thought he wanted you to leave, but you’d been absent; afraid to truly let yourself feel anything for him.

“Such beautiful sounds you make.”

You expected him to turn brutal and rough since he was fully inside of you. It never happened. The only way you could describe what he was doing was making love to you. His hands held you gently and his kisses were even more delicate. He treated you like you were a prize that would easily break if he moved the wrong way. He pulled his face away just far enough to look into your eyes.

“Gar cuyir ner oyay. Ner darasuum kar'taylir darasuum.” (You are my life. My eternal love.)

You had no idea what he said to you, but you felt the sincerity. You felt the adoration coming from him. You felt stupid for thinking that the man completely consuming you would ever want you to leave. The longer he made love to you the more you felt it. He had never uttered the words to you, at least not that you understood, but his actions showed you.

He loved you.

It wasn’t very long before you were coming undone. It wasn’t the usual brutal climax that would hit you so hard you saw stars. This slowly built until there was nothing in existence around you. It was only you and Boba. Only you and your King. You were surprised when he finished with you, staying close. He peppered your face with kisses as you came down.

“Welcome back, princess.”

You felt tears starting to betray your overwhelmed state as he looked down at you. He tried to ask you what was wrong, but you pulled him close to you and finally let yourself truly cry in front of him. He held you close as he rolled to the side, not wanting to hurt you.

“You truly thought I didn’t want you anymore.”

You nodded and tried to wipe your eyes, but he beat you to it. He cradled your face and wiped every tear that fell from your eyes.

“I wish you would have just spoken to me. I could have quelled all of those fears.”

“I’m sorry, Boba.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.”

“I have a question, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

“What.. what did you say to me? When we were.. what did that mean?”

“I told you that you are my life and my eternal love.”

Your breath hitched again, and he chuckled lightly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You need to learn Mando’a if you’re going to keep hanging around Mandalorians.”

You laughed lightly and then put your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh even harder.

“What?”

“I just.. at least Mando’a is prettier than Huttese.”

“You speak that garbage language?”

You nodded again, laughing behind your hand.

“I would much prefer to learn your language. I never know what you’re saying to me.”

“I’m usually calling you beautiful. Mesh’la. Sounds better than fucking Huttese.”

You laughed out fully again, and he tucked you against his chest, pulling the sheet across your bodies. You reveled in his touch and comfort, finally letting yourself love him the way you wanted to. He may have been one of the most dangerous men in the universe, but to you he would always be salvation.

---

Bonus:

“Stay still.”

“Ouch!”

“I told you to stay still.”

“This is stupid.”

“So is not using bacta when it can heal up those ugly bruises faster.”

“Fennec stop being so damn rough!”

“Then sit still.”

You huffed out a sigh and tried to not move. You hissed when she pressed her fingers against your bruised face, and it earned you a glare.

“No more headbutting people. Got it?”

“Din said he’s going to get me a helmet so I can.”

She finally laughed and kissed the top of your head once she was done.

“There. Now leave it alone and your face will heal much faster.”

“Thank you.”

She sat down and pulled you into her lap.

“You scared me when you were gone, pet.”

“You thought I ran.”

“No. I just knew something was bothering you, but I saw the footprints. I saw they dragged you out. So, I called Boba even though I knew I was going to get my ass handed to me.”

“Well, thank you for calling him. I was almost sold to a Hutt.”

She grimaced and then smirked at you, her usual mirth returning.

“What would you have done then? I doubt they would have felt you headbutt them. You’d just be all slimy.”

“Ew, Fennec. I don’t even want to think about that.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around you, holding you close. You rest your head on her shoulder and sighed.

“I’m glad you’re safe, pet.”

“Me too. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

Tag List: Kings Pet: @promiscuoussatan

Permanent: @mapplestrudel @cannedsoupsucks

If you would like to be added/removed please let me know!

#boba fett #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #fennec shand #smut #fanfic

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navalcriminalimagines · 4 years

Text

request by @batnervousdazecollector: Hiii🥰I hope you’re doing gewddd hehe. So I’ve never made a request or suggestion for a fix but this literally keeps me up at night now, but I heard the song and immediately thought of sonny. Could you maybe do a fic based on driver’s license-Olivia Rodrigo? 😇🙏🏽please and thank you

words: 1,583

Drivers license

“Doll, you have thirty minutes to pack a bag. I have the week off, we’re going on that road trip we talked about,”

Most beautiful week in your 25 years of life. People would tell you “You’re young, you still have so much to live.” But they don’t know, they don’t understand. That week with Sonny was everything you ever dreamt about. Driving across the east coast, sleeping in the old van he rented, stopping to the most amazing point of view on the ocean. For an entire week, it was just you and him. Nothing more, nothing less. And it was perfect. That’s something nobody can take away from you.

You wished time would have stopped during this week. You wished that you never had to come back and face the reality. That’s why you still looked at those pictures you and Sonny took during that trip and fall asleep, every night, remembering all of those precious moments. From the moment you got into the plane and held his hand firmly since you were scared, to the last night when you passionately made love under the stars. The times he made you drive although you had no idea what you were doing, swimming in the ocean, watching a ridiculous movie in the van as it was raining outside, taking hours to befriend a deer, singing until your voices were off…

But now, you’re falling asleep alone, crying, remembering this week and the entire year you dated Sonny. Again, you fought with your friends tonight. They are tired of listening to you talking about him. After the breakup, they were very supportive, they helped you in every way they can, but it’s been a year now, and they just want you to get over him for good. You can’t. Cause they'll never know him the way that you do.

Sonny got home late that night. He was working on a tough case and he spent hours going through surveillance videos. He was tired, worn down, with a killer headache. All he wanted to do was join you into bed and hold you close to him. But to his surprise, you were still up. You were sitting on the couch, with your computer on your lap. The tv was on but he could tell you weren’t watching it. He kissed your forehead softly but you didn’t react. “It’s 2am babe, let’s go to bed,” he said.

“Nah, I’m good,” you answered.

You obviously were in a bad mood, but he couldn’t deal with it right now. He told you he was going to take a shower. You figured he would come back after but instead, you heard him going to bed. Angry, you stood up and walked to the bedroom. “Seriously, Dominick?”

“What?” His face was buried in his pillow.

“You’re going to bed and just—leave me like that?”

He growled and sat up on the bed. “Like what, Y/N? It’s always the same. When I come home late at night, you’re mad because I missed a night out with your friends, or I just wasn’t there. I have a job, and I’m very exhausted right now. I really don’t want to do this,”

“Well, I do. Cause you got it wrong tonight. I didn't have my driver’s license. Again,”

“You’ll get it next time, okay?”

“Is that everything you have to say? You know how important it is to me!”

“Y/N, there’s far more important things in this world then your fucking drivers license! Women are raped, they get killed. Trust me, they wish their driver’s license was the only problem they had!”

You know you messed up. He wouldn’t have broken up with you if you’ve acted differently. But he was your first real boyfriend, you were new to this and you didn’t know how to handle it. You should have been more attentive with him, more caring. And not stupidly jealous and selfish.

“Sorry I’m late babe. Amanda needed help with Jesse,” he peeked your lips and sat across you.

“Could’ve given me a heads up, Dom. I’ve been waiting here for an hour, all by myself,”

“I know, I’m sorry! I didn’t have time to pick me my phone,”

“Sure. Because you were too busy with Jesse—or maybe with Amanda,” you muttered.

“Don’t—don’t do this again, Y/N,”

“Why not? You always put her first!”

“I do not. But she has a baby, and a full time job as a detective. She’s my friend, I’m here for her. That’s it,”

“‘Your friend’, right.”

“Quit it, Y/N! I’m not cheating on you with Amanda, or with anyone else for that matter. It’s hurtful that you don’t trust me,”

You should have trusted him. He deserved it. He did everything he could to make you happy. The man was a full time detective, he took night school at Fordham Law, and he still managed to take care of everyone around him. The world needs more of Dominick Carisi Jr, but the world doesn’t deserve Dominick Carisi Jr.

Neither do you.

But still. You finally got your driver’s license and all you wanted to do was to call Sonny and tell him the good news. Driving has always been a big issue for you and you know, you wouldn’t have done it without him.

“Do you mind me asking you a question?” He asked.

“Shot,”

“Why don’t you have your driver's license? No judgment, I’m just very curious,”

It took a moment to finally tell him everything. “We had a car accident when I was 7. A very bad car accident. My father died, my mother was severely injured and I—I was paralyzed for years,”

“Your body aches when it’s very cold outside, is it—?”

“Yes, it’s because of it. My doc still tells me I should live somewhere warmer,” you paused. “After that, I couldn’t get into a car at all. With therapy I beat that fear and I was still very nervous, I would get panic attacks. Then, I managed to be comfortable but only with people I trust. Now, I’m okay with cars but not in the driver seat,”

Sonny helped you with that. More than he will ever know. Especially during that road trip you two had. It was the first time you sat in a driver seat and drove a little without having a panic attack. It took you two more years, but you finally got your driver’s license and now you drive alone past his street.

Is he happy now? Is he dating her and raising her children? You found out months ago she had another baby. Was this baby Sonny’s? You had so many questions and no answers.

“Dom,

I got my driver’s license last week. It felt good at first, I was so proud of myself… but now it’s bittersweet. You’re not here. I can’t drive to your home. I can’t invite you to a road trip. Or even just a little ride. I wish I could, just one time, as a thank you. I wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for you. You gave me the strength and confidence. You are a true diamond in this world and I will never get over the fact I let you go. I should have fought. Fought for you, for us. But it’s too late, right? We weren’t perfect but I never felt this way for no one. I hope you’re happy where you are. Happy with your life, but a part of me can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone. I could never.

Forever yours,

Y/N.”

What do you have to lose? You pulled over in his street, took a moment to breathe and you got out off your car. The letter in your hand, you walked to his building, entered the code and got in. It’s 4am, it’s dark, empty and very quiet. What are you doing? This is the stupidest thing ever. The worst idea in the history of ideas.

But still, you put the letter in his mailbox and left. You had nothing left to lose anyway.

He said forever, now you drive alone past his street.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, as your head was resting on his chest.

“I—I used to, but I guess I stopped at some point,”

“Why?” You lift your head to look at his beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m 35, not married, no kids. Speak for itself,”

“Hmm,” you put your head where it was before. “But—I’m here now,” you said without any confidence.

“Indeed, you are,” Sonny squeezed you tighter to his chest. “Didn’t say I couldn’t believe in it again,” he kissed your hair. He felt you were smiling against his skin.

“I like to think that—we all have that one special person, you know? It doesn’t mean it always works out. You may not be the special person to your special person. But I think we all have that person you’ll never forget, no matter what,” Sonny was listening intensely to what you were saying. It makes sense, maybe you’re right. “You’re my special person, Dominick,” you concluded.

Maybe this was the most beautiful declaration of love Sonny never got. And in that moment, he got carried away. He grabbed your chin with his fingers and made you lift your head to face him. “Forever, then,” he said before kissing you deeply.

He said forever. But he never said you were his special person.

#law and order svu #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi fic #sonny carisi #carisi x reader #sonny carisi x reader #dominick carisi #law and order: special victims unit

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me (Pt. 03 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (02)

Next part (04) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

Memories From The Past

“I was with the same group of people since the world fell apart. Me and six other people.” Slowly you start, keeping your voice down so Daryl will be the only one to hear it. “We were fine and... One day we had to leave the house because there were too many dead around... So we... We left and this group found us. They were good, they offered help.” How stupid you were to believe it. To go with them and trust their kindness. Kindness, now, is rare. It's used as a trick, a trap. And you fell for it. “They had a couple of houses, lived well together and... It was normal, for a week it was normal. I-I was starting to feel safe when...” Your body shakes, like a leaf, and Daryl moves closer, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. “The men started making... Propositions. And I would never do that, and-and in the beginning they were okay. They respected my decision, but soon, it... They started getting aggressive. I told my group and we decided to run away during the night but they found out.” You're crying, sobbing, a hand on your heart. “They got us. And-and all the others were useless. Four men and two older women, so they killed them. They had t-these dead tied up and they made me watch as my friends were eaten.” It's hard to continue, to push the words out, to revisit that day. Those days, endless. The hours that never seemed to end.

“ ‘S alright. That's enough.” Daryl says, but you push the blanket away, freeing your arms from underneath and holding his hand. You just need to make sure he's real. That he's here, the man who saved you, who won't let anyone hurt you again.

“They locked me up after. They... They told me they didn't want to... Rape me... They wanted me to enjoy what they did. T-the humiliating, degrading sex, the extreme bondage, the cuts, the wounds, the pain. All of it.” You decide to just say it, spill it out, as fast as you can just to get it over with. “But I wouldn't. I wouldn't and I was thinking they'd just kill me. I was ready but they didn't. They came every single day, I stopped counting after a month, to ask me to surrender but I never did. They beat me, kicked me, cut me, spit on me. They used to drag one of the dead to the basement and leave it there, groaning at me for days.”

“That's enough. Ya don't have to–”

“Then a herd came. I heard it. I heard it killing them so I just pushed myself up and crawled through a window.” You look down at your arms, the grazes, and scratches from the glass. “I fought with a man for the car, and he gave me this–” You tilt your head to the wound on your left thigh. “–right before one of the dead got him. So I started driving, and I kept driving until the gas was over. I stood there as the dead came, surrounded me and I just wanted to die.” You're head is spinning, and you feel like you're just about to faint. “I wanted to die until you found me.”

The look on his eyes kills you. Why is he in such pain? Why is he looking at you like... Like you're breakable. Like you're broken already. Maybe it's because you are. And you will never speak of it again. You will never let these words come out of your mouth. The memories are more than enough to torture you day after day.

“Nobody will ever hurt ya again,” Daryl says, his voice filled with anger, a kind of anger you never witnessed before. “I promise ya. Never.” He pulls you into a hug, carefully, but you just move into his chest, biting back a wince when pain spreads through your body. You're sobbing, uncontrollably, and you're sure the tears are soaking Daryl's shirt. It hurts to cry. “Shh. ‘S alright, babygirl. Calm down, ‘M right here with ya. ‘M right here.”

“Will-will they kick me out?” You stutter, still hiding your head on his chest.

“No. Yer not going anywhere, hear me?” Daryl pulls away, just enough to look into your eyes. “Hear me?”

“Can you stay with me? Please.” Holding on to his shirt, you beg, unable to bear the thought of being left alone.

“Of course.”

Relieved, you pull him, moving to the side a little despite the pain. Daryl hesitates a bit before moving, resting his back against the headrest as you move to lay your head on his chest, pulling your legs up, basically curling into him.

You're not sure how long he stays there, in silence, a hand caressing your hair. But when you start getting hungry, you know he'll have to leave eventually.

“(Y/N),” Carol calls from the door frame. “Can I bring your lunch?”

Nodding weakly, you watch as her smiles and leaves.

“I need to talk to Rick,” Daryl says, carefully moving to stand up, making sure you'll be comfortable against the headrest. “Him and Deanna. So they'll stop bugging ya about... What happened before.”

“Will you be back?” You ask as he stands up, holding his hand.

“I promise I will. I won't leave ya alone.”

Nodding, you force yourself to let go of his hand. Carol brings you lunch and you struggle to eat without her help. It always takes a while, and Carol talks through it, even though you don't answer. You should though, she's been so kind to you, patient, doing everything she can... It's unfair to give the silent treatment.

“Thank you.” You say when you're done eating, handing her the empty plate. The words still sound low and weak, and you don't feel as comfortable as you feel with Daryl. “For... For everything.”

Her lips break into a smile, bright and sweet. “You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to help.” Carol moves to hold your hand, but you're quick to move it away. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I just...” Looking down, you feel another tear rolling. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, honey. It's good to see you feel comfortable around Daryl.” The mention of his name warms your heart. “I've never seen him so protective of anyone.”

“Daryl is...” Your hero, your anchor. He's the only thing holding you up, keeping you from falling apart.

“I know. I can see it in your eyes.” Carol stands up, giving you one last glance before heading to the door. “And I see it in his eyes too.”

You're left alone again, with your thoughts and memories. Daryl only comes back a few hours later, telling you he had spoken to both Rick and Deanna, and your stay in Alexandria was allowed. He says they usually make a small gathering to welcome new residents, but it'll only happen when and if you want it. You don't. In fact, you don't think you can leave this house just yet. You haven't even left the room, just for a few minutes every morning, when the streets are empty to get some sunlight. Anything else doesn't feel safe.

Later that night, you're wide awake after a quick nap brought the memories back as nightmares. So you just lie there, facing the ceiling, in the dark, shaking like a leaf. Even though the silence, the walls, and blankets covering you, you feel unprotected, exposed, vulnerable.

“The morning is coming.” You tell yourself, whispering, barely hearing your own voice. The sun will come back, the darkness will vanish and... And you'll probably feel pretty much the same way. “The morning is–” You're cut short when you hear footsteps, quickly pushing yourself up, biting back a moan when your body hurts. But your whole body relaxes when you see Daryl walking by, through the open door. He stops when he sees you, confusion on his face.

“What are ya doin’ up?” He asks, stepping inside the room.

“I'm not sleeping.” You mumble, not sure if the answer makes much sense. “I don't sleep. Not much.”

“Why?” Daryl sits on the edge of the bed, and you lie back down, holding his hand as usual.

“Bad dreams.” You admit, your eyes on his. You can't see the blue in this darkness, but you don't have to. Feeling his stare is enough to calm you down, make you relax. “If you... If you stay here– If you sleep here I– Maybe I can...” The words get all confused, as you understand what you're asking of him. But you need him, you're suddenly aware. If he's here through the night, you'll feel safe. You'll be able to sleep, knowing he's around.

“Ya want me here?” Daryl says, his voice low as if he didn't want to disturb the night.

“Yes, but... If you don't want it's ok. I– I'm just...” Restless, you move a little, feeling stupid for asking Daryl such thing. But you need him so much. Tears start rolling down, so you look away, breathing fast.

“Alright, alright.” You feel when he starts moving, and you do the same, sliding to the side to give him space. “Careful.” He says as you push yourself up a little, heart beating fast at the sensation of having him here.

You're not thinking much, and when you use your left leg to push your weight up, you feel a sting and a sharp pain spreading through your leg. A groan leaves your lips at the same moment, and you wince in pain, freezing in place. You feel wetness on the wound, and you quickly push the blankets away, all air leaving your lungs when you see blood staining the white bandages.

“Calm down.” You hear Daryl's voice, but you're hyperventilating, the agony of the flesh wound reopened bringing tears to your eyes. “Carol!” He shouts, startling you a little. “Lemme see.”

You nod, lying back down as he moves the blankets away, his hands just brushing against your skin. “It's ripped.” You moan, trying not to move, despite how your body is shaking.

“What happened?” Carol gets here quickly, her eyes wide.

“Go get Denise.” Daryl's voice is urgent, and it sounds like an order. She doesn't say anything before bolting away. “You'll be alright. I'll remove the bandages, ‘s that ok?” With your eyes closed, you nod, barely feeling his fingers on your skin as the dressings are removed. Soon enough you feel the cold wind on your flesh. “Some stitches are ripped. Not all of them.”

You barely hear his voice above the agony, covering your face with both your hands. “It hurts.” You mutter, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

“I know. Denise will–” He's still speaking when Denise comes in suddenly, saying something you can't understand.

She's soon working on your leg, applying local anesthesia before anything else. You're relieved when the pain starts to fade, but you can't look. You feel the blood flowing out, and if wasn't for Daryl holding you, you'd lose it.

As Denise stitches you up, you have your back on Daryl's chest, his arms encircling your waist. You try not to shake, not to move, but it's hard. The tears come flooding again, as the memories try to haunt you. “ ‘S alright, babygirl. You'll be alright.” Daryl says on your ear, and you close your eyes tight.

He stays even after Denise leaves, still holding you as you hold on to him. The silence is comfortable, safe, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep.

“How long have you carried me here?” You ask, voice low and weak.

“Four days.”

“Four days?” You move to look at him, but his grip gets tighter, holding you in place.

“Careful. Ya gotta move slowly.” Settling back into place, you nod. “I had my bike but I didn't think ya could hold on so I carried ya.”

“I'm sorry...” Whispering, you grab a handful of the fabric of his shirt. “It must have been exhausting.”

“Don't apologize. All the way I was prayin’ I wasn't bringin’ ya here just to bury ya.” His chest vibrates, moving up and down as he breathes.

“You kept me alive.” Taking a deep breath, you rub your hand on his chest, as if making sure he's really here. Your hero. You will never understand why he did that, or how much trouble he put himself through to get you here, to save you. “Your voice was the only thing calling me back into consciousness and... For so long I just wanted to die already but you... You made me want to try. To live.”

“And ya will live now. I promise ya, (Y/N).”

A small, quick smile comes to your lips. Even though it's gone too soon, it feels good to know you still that the capacity to do such a thing.

And it happens again, in the morning after, when you open your eyes to find Daryl still in the bed with you.

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd

#daryl imagine #imagine daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #imagine daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead x reader #imagine the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

An Officer and a Gentleman

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, anal, cheating (sort of), name-calling.

This is dark!(silverfox)Lee Bodecker x (married)reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job.

Note: I had the first half sitting around and finished it so here ya go. It takes place in the 70s so Lee is older and it was inspired by an article I read about the creation phone sex lines by a housewife in the 70s (which now of course I can’t flippin find). But anyway, here you go.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The sheriff sat down in his usual spot as you wiped your hands on the rag tucked into your apron. He set his hat on the table and tidied his greying hair. Even at his age, his locks were thick and looked soft. Strands of brown lined the shining silver and shone under the diner lights.

He came in at the same time every day, only an hour into your shift. You approached and flipped the cup on its saucer before you filled it. He took only sugar, no cream

or milk. You smiled as you watched him read over the menu, he never ordered anything but the waffles.

“Good morning, sheriff,” you said as you held the carafe aloft. “Lookin’ to try something new?”

“‘Dols Leck’?” Lee Bodecker mispronounced the French words, “What’s that?”

“Dolce Leche,” you corrected, “It’s caramel.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his ruddy cheek and reached for his mug. He drank and held out the menu. “Waffles with strawberry.”

“Extra cream,” you finished for him. He nodded and had another gulp as you walked away.

You put in his ticket after you replaced the coffee pot on the burner. You checked on the few other customers along the counter and wiped down the empty tables. The bell rang and you went to grab the sheriff’s breakfast from the window. You set the plate down before him as he folded the newspaper and replaced it in the little holder at the end of the table.

“How’s Eugene?” He asked as he unwrapped his cutlery. “And the boy?”

“Gene’s still on nights.” You lamented and subconsciously touched your stomach. “Little Ezra’s almost a year now.”

Your boy was buxom and buoyant. You smiled as you thought of his round cheeks and warm brown eyes. You only wished his father was around more to take him off your hip as you cooked and cleaned in your spare hours after work. Eugene was asleep as much as he was at the factory. You saw each other in passing as you scraped for ends meet.

Ezra was with Eugene’s mother during the day. You’d pick him up and take him home to wait for your husband to wake. If you were lucky, you got a kiss before he grabbed his lunch pail and headed out for his twelve hours. You hadn’t gotten more than that since before Ezra came. Neither of you had the time or energy, though the want was there.

“And you sheriff? How are you doing these days?” You asked before you could get lost in your self-pity.

“Ah, you know. The same old. Patrol’s ain’t too exciting.” He cut into the stack and licked his lips. He was a man with a sweet tooth, a substitute for his former alcoholic habit.

“Well, you enjoy, sheriff, you know how to get my attention.” You left him and did a round of refills for those eating and greeted the new arrivals.

Lee was always alone when he came in. He never brought any of his cadets or officers, he just sat, read the newspaper, and ate his waffles. He wasn’t married and had no children. Nearly fifty years on his back but he seemed content on his own. You almost envied him as you struggled with your small family.

🚔

You laid Ezra down carefully in his crib. He was getting big. You tickled his forehead and watched him for a moment before you left the room. It was late. Eugene was gone and the phone would ring soon. You had to prepare yourself for your night time duties.

It started small. An idea found in the pages of one of those feminist magazines, the very ones your husband called good kindling. A woman lost her job, still hard-fought for the domestic sex, and found herself in a similar way as yourself. Money was always needed and harder to come about. So she started her own service for the lonely men. A phone line with illicit intentions.

You read about it in the late stages of your pregnancy and laughed at the idea. It was so stupid. So scandalous. But once you were back to work and Eugene was on the late shift, you grew lonely and your checkbook was harder to open.

You hand wrote the little cards after a visit to the phone company. Eugene didn’t know about the second line. The number redirected to your main line and was active for only three hours a night, after your husband was gone. It was registered as a commercial line so each incoming call was billed to the dialer and a percentage was refunded on your own invoice.

You left the number around town, certain not to be seen as you dropped the cards in the car shop and the bar. At least, you hoped you hadn’t been seen.

The first night had you addled and sleepless until your shift began at the diner. It was hard to keep up the sultry voice and the lies. Difficult to act like the whole thing didn’t make you cringe. The men called and said their dirty words as you encouraged them with moans and little prods. “Oh yes, baby.” or “Tell me more.” It felt like you were cheating on your husband but it kept his plate full and the house warm.

The phone didn’t ring right away that night. Later in the week, you got more calls but one or two was better than none. The real profit was keeping them on the line as long as you could, but there were times you had to end abruptly to see to your wailing child.

You were half-asleep when the first call came in. You fumbled with the receiver and batted away your fatigue with your lashes. You held in a yawn and your sleepiness added to the allure of your put-on voice.

“Hello, mister, what are you longing for tonight?” You laid back on your pillow and played with the spiral cord.

“Well, I…” You blinked and held the phone against your ear. He sounded familiar, as many of the men did, but his timbre made your ears prick sharply. “I don’t know. I never did nothing like this before.”

You squinted and thought. You knew him but you couldn’t place the twinge in your head.

“I can start for you, darling,” you offered. “Mmm, tell you what I would do to you?”

He cleared his throat and you heard movement. He was nervous. So many of the men sounded the same. Most of them were afraid of being caught by their wives or uncertain about their desires. At first, you had the same fears but had since grown indifferent. It was human nature, as natural as one’s instinct to quench their thirst for water.

“How do you like it, darling? You like it when a lady bends over? I like it like that. Or maybe you want to start with me on my back.”

He groaned and you heard the receiver scratch. He let out a strained breath and moved the phone to his other hand.

“I want to use your mouth.” He said at last. His voice was low and gristly. “I want to push your head down in my lap as I choke you with my cock.”

You stared at the ceiling as you reclined and hummed. “Oh yeah.”

“Shut up.” He snarled. “I don’t want to hear your voice, I just want your mouth on me until you can’t fucking breathe. I want to hear you struggle. I was your tears streaming down your face and salting the taste of me on my tongue. I want to hold you down and cum until it’s deep in your belly.”

You parted your lips and raised your brows. You were still focused on trying to recognize the voice. His tone made you quiver. He was more forceful than most men. A lot of them just talked about sucking on your tits or went straight to fucking.

“I’d love that, darling.” You lied and bent one leg over the other as you swayed your foot.

“I said shut up!” He hissed. “I want to hold you down with my hands around your neck. I want to fuck you until your screaming. I’ll fuck you until you bleed. Until you beg for me to cum again.”

His breath was furious and you heard something else. The phone was moving against his chin as he moaned and you were certain you could hear his hand somewhere else; lower. It set your cheeks on fire and you sat up. His voice, his breath, the sheer anger and lust laced in his rasps. Your throat tightened as if he was truly choking you.

“But I want to cum in your ass. I want to make it hurt. I want you to cry as I tear you apart from the inside.” He growled and coughed as his voice fizzled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stroked himself furiously and the receiver dropped with a thump and you flinched. “Fucking bitch, yeah, you want my cock deep in your ass. Fucking whore.”

Your fingers hurt as you gripped the phone tightly and listened. His curses streamed steadily until the line clicked and died suddenly. You lowered the receiver and stairs at the little whole clustered together on the mouthpiece. You set it in the cradle and turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

It was unlike any call you’d had. It was terrifying and made your blood curdle. You felt as if it had actually happened as your chest was heavy and your heart raced. You blew out a shaky breath and reached to silence the ringer.

That was enough for the night.

🚔

The next day at the diner, you couldn’t stop yawning. You hadn’t slept much as the call replayed in your head over and over. The man’s voice was so clear in your mind and every time you started to drift off, he spoke in your ear. You dragged the rag over the top of the counter as Amelia spoke with the elderly couple in that corner.

The door chimed and you looked up. Sheriff Bodecker took off his hat as he entered and nodded at you. With the coffee pot in hand, you went to his table, already set for his arrival. You wished him a good morning and filled his cup. His voice was thick as he muttered his response and picked up the menu. He looked as tired as you felt.

“Strawberry, sheriff?” You prompted.

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, stubbly from a missed shave. “This Dolsay Leckay. I’ll try that today.” He held out his menu. “I’m trying new things this week.”

You took the menu stiffly and nodded. “Waffles with dolce leche sauce. Right away, sheriff.”

You turned and walked off to write out his ticket. You returned the coffee pot to its place and set down the menu as you took out your pad and pen. Your hand shook as you scribbled out the order. You stuck it in the window and leaned on the counter.

It couldn’t be him. You were crazy. You didn’t get enough sleep and you were wanting to hear that voice everywhere. Your reassurances were weak and only made you shiver as you righted yourself and continued wiping down the tables.

You angled yourself to look at the sheriff as he squinted down at the newspaper. He stuck his tongue out as he read to poke his top lip and tilted his head coyly. He cleared his throat and coughed as his order rang in the window.

You went to grab the plate and struggled not to fumble it. It was him. The way he coughed, the gravelly scratch of his throat, the deep and firm undertone. You couldn’t deny it was him. You were stunned you hadn’t recognized him at once.

“There you are, sheriff,” you said as you set down his plate. “Enjoy.”

“I think I will,” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving this morning.”

“If you need anything,” you made your usual offer.

He looked at you and smiled. You noticed how his eyes strayed to your name tag and the buttons of your blue dress. He turned to his waffles and took out the knife and fork.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said as he ran the tines of the fork through the dark caramel. “I think I’m just fine.”

You left him to eat and straightened your apron. You were confident you’d changed your voice enough that he didn’t have the same epiphany. Even so, everything about him was different. At least in your head. He was no longer the desolate sheriff, he was desperate and demanding. He wasn’t who you thought he was. He was a man with a lot of power and a hunger to use it.

🚔

It was several days before you dared to leave the ringer on after Eugene’s departure. Your husband was loving but almost entirely absent. Since Ezra was born, he’d only grown more distant and work could not excuse him completely. When you ate dinner late with him, he barely heard you as he kept the radio on and those nights he didn’t work, he didn’t touch you.

You felt worse for your own misdeeds. The phone line made you shy and sullen with him. You should tell him but you didn’t know how and truly, you couldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t take it well and even if he was barely there, you couldn’t lose him. You were already painfully alone.

That night, he volunteered for overtime and so you hardly saw him before he headed out. He said you needed the money but your books were well balanced from your own after hours work. You’d done it to take the burden off of him but he still took the extra time, even as you argued that your bills were in good standing.

Was it you? When had it all grown so cold?

Ezra ate his mashed peas and you set him down for the night. You heard him cooing still but you kept to your schedule even when he was wide awake. He always tired himself out and never fussed very long.

You sat on your bed and read. You checked the time. The phone would start soon and that night you couldn’t leave it off. You needed the money and you couldn’t be picky about where it came from. The month would be over and there would be a whole new batch of debts to account for.

You jumped as it rang. You kept the volume low so it didn’t carry through the whole house and you answered after several rings. You gave your usual greeting and breathed a sigh of relief when it was one of your regulars. You closed your book and picked your nails as you went along with his routine.

When he finished, you wished him a good night. You were dead tired but one more call wouldn’t hurt. You waited and grabbed the receiver on the first ring.

“Hello, mister, what are you looking for tonight?” You made your voice higher and breathier.

“Shhhh.” The long hush chills your veins. “Don’t talk.”

You quivered. It was him. You looked at the phone cradle.

“Don’t hang up.” He said as if he could read your mind. “You want it, don’t you? You want to feel me inside you. Down your throat, fucking the whore out of you.”

“I…” you uttered.

“I said be quiet.” He barked. “I want my cock so far down your throat I can feel it as I choke you. I want your spit all over me, I want you gasping and gulping until you pass out and I’m fucking your mouth lifeless.”

Your eyes widened and you listened in disgust. He growled and his hand slapped off his thigh as he pleasured himself. You sit paralysed as fear bubbled in your chest and you felt as if he could see you. You crossed your legs and huddled down over the receiver.

“I want to fuck your cunt until it hurts to sit down. I want to hear my body slam into yours, I want you to beg me to stop and keep going at the same time. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t make a noise, until all you can hear is my cock pounding inside of you.”

“Please…” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to hang up and yet you were terrified to move.

“And I know you want it too, whore. I know you need it. Not these words, not these calls, but you need me,” he shuddered “and I need it just as bad.”

He grunted and the line grew still. He hissed and cursed.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he sneered. Another silence and you think he hung up. His voice startled you when he spoke again. “Who’re ya?”

“Wh-what?”

“I ain’t stupid. You’re some lady in the county. Maybe some lonely housewife. Ain’t sound like no prostitute I ever knew.” He sniffed and let out a groan. “Maybe you some dumb teenager playin’ games on the telephone, huh?”

“I don’t-- No. I--” You hung up.

You stood and pulled the line out of the phone and dropped down heavily. You put your head in your hands and shook it. Fuck!

🚔

The next morning at the diner, you served the sheriff with a false smile. Every time he spoke, you heard the words he said to you on the phone. Although his tone was placid, his fervour played over and over in your ears. And when you overpoured his coffee, you apologized only to have him assure you it was alright and let you mop up the mess with your rag.

He left you his usual tip and you cleared his table. The newspaper was tinged from your spill and you dumped it on his plate. As you did, a card slipped out onto the table and your handwriting stared back at you from the carefully cut rectangle. You hid it quickly in the newspaper and rushed to toss it all in the trash and drop the plate in the bin.

It must have been a mistake, you assured yourself and excused yourself for a breath of air. The chef, Carson, was already by the kitchen doors and you said yes to a smoke from his pack. You lit it after the third try and inhaled the tobacco deep into your chest. You would go to the phone company tomorrow on your day off and shut down the second line. Your lesson was learned. It wasn’t worth the spare pennies.

Your day dragged by as all you could think of was the line. When you got to the phone company, you were jittery with worry. It was easy enough to shut it down but the fee cost you your tips for the day. You checked the clock before you left, bound to be a few minutes late picking up Ezra.

As you came out onto the street, your open jacket flapped in the wind over your uniform and your mary janes clacked on the pavement as you rushed to get to Enid’s and pick up your son. When you stopped at the corner to wait for traffic to pass, a flash and a honk made you jump.

Sheriff Bodecker pulled up to the curb and rolled down his window. He waved and leaned his arm on the door as he peered out at you.

“You needa ride?” He asked.

You smiled awkwardly and clutched the handles of your weathered purse.

“Sheriff, no thank you, I’m not goin’ too far,” you waved him off.

“Nonsense, you on your feet all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“You must be busy.”

“Radio ain’t goin’ off,” he slapped the door, “now come on.” He reached down and opened the door, stepping out with a groan, “Get in. You always are so nice down at the diner.”

You swallowed and your lips quivered as you tried to hold your smile. You followed him around the other side of the car as he opened the door for you. You got into the vintage cruiser and crossed your legs as you cradled your purse on your lap. He closed the door and dropped in on the other side.

He shifted into gear and pulled off. You thanked him and fiddled with clasp of your purse.

“No problem, but uh, I just needa know where you’re goin’,” he chuckled as he slowed at the next four way.

“Oh, I gotta get Ezra from his gramma’s,” you explained, “She lives just down Carsbee.”

“Not far at all,” he commented as he turned the wheel, “So, how was the rest of your day then?”

“Not so bad,” you said breathily as he looked at you in his mirror and you focused on the pedestrians on the street, “and yours, sheriff?”

“You can call me Lee if ya like,” he offered, “And wasn’t so bad either. Which number is it, sweetheart?”

You sniffed at the pet name, he was usually so formal at the diner with his ma’ams.

“21B,” you answered as you wiggled your foot nervously, “you can just drop me off. It’s not too far to home.”

“Don’t be silly, I wanna meet your boy,” he intoned, “you talk about him so much.”

“Oh, uh, of course,” you murmured as he pulled up along the front of your mother-in-law’s, “I just gotta go get him then.”

You hooked your purse over your elbow and slid over the seat. The sheriff kept you from opening the door as he bid you stay and got out quickly as he rushed around the front of the car. He opened the door like a gentleman and removed his hat.

“I’m old but I haven’t forgot my manners,” he nodded and waited for you to step out.

You got to your feet and thanked him again before you strolled up the crooked walk to the front door. You knocked and let yourself in like you always did. You could hear Ezra babbling as he played with wooden toy cars. Enid sat in her usual spot and rocked as she watched him.

“How was he today?” You asked as you grabbed the bag you always left with him and packed up the loose ends beside it.

“Loud,” Enid muttered, “hyper.”

“Well, he’s at that age,” you grasped your purse and Ezra’s bag in one hand and picked him up from the floor as he reached out for you. “Alright, Ez, say buh bye to grammy.”

He waved and cooed as you held him on your hip. Enid said buy in her grumpy way and got up to see you to the door. You came down the single step as Lee waited by his cruiser. Ezra buried his face in your shoulder as he turned away from the sheriff.

“Don’t be shy, Ezra, this is the sheriff, Mr. Bodecker,” you tried to shake him upright but he clung to you and hid.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m used to that,” Lee laughed and opened the door, “people see the badge and they’re not so friendly.”

“He just goin’ through a phase,” you assured as you sat with Ezra in your lap.

As Lee shut the door, you let the bags lean against it and the car dipped as he got in the other side. He turned the engine and you gave him your own address as your son squirmed in your lap. At the first corner, Ezra found the courage to look at the sheriff and the officer looked back and stuck out his tongue.

“He looks like you,” Lee said as he pushed down on the pedal, “real cute.”

You accepted the compliment and hugged Ezra tighter. You could barely process the sheriff’s words as your mind returned to those he spoke the night before. Every time he spoke, you heard him, hissing and cussing at you.

You were relieved when he came up to your house and you turned to grab your bags. You felt a tug on your elbow as you balanced Ezra and your things. You looked back at Lee as he held your arm.

“I’ll get the door,” he said, “you just stay put.”

You waited as he let you go and once more, opened the door for you. He took the bags as you climbed out and you protested that you were fine. His hand settled on your shoulder as he pulled you to face him.

“Well, sweetheart, you gonna invite me in for some coffee?”

You were shocked by his boldness and couldn’t hide it. You blanched and looked at Ezra as he tugged at your jacket. You laughed awkwardly.

“Eugene’s still sleepin’ for his shift, I don’t--”

“We got some things to discuss and I think the least you can do after I was so kind as to drive you home is a coffee.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Maybe another time, sheriff, I’d really hate to wake--” you reached for your bags and he stopped you with his grip firm on your wrist.

“Does he know?” Lee asked in a gristly voice.

“Know what?”

“Know you a whore?” Lee sneered.

You reeled and tried to twist from his grasp. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You can’t say them words on the phone and not mean ‘em,” he leaned in close, “Now I think you know what I want to talk with you about so you invite me in and I’ll be real nice about it but if you keep me out here, I can’t promise your neighbours won’t get a show.”

You pouted and rocked Ezra as he began to fidget, sensing your discomfort. “Please, I got Ezra--”

“You put him in the next room so we can discuss,” Lee insisted.

He let go of you and you nodded dumbly. You watched him wearily as you turned and led him up the walk. You unlocked the front door and he followed you inside. He hung his hat on the rack with his leather jacket and you hurried into the bedroom to set Ezra down in his crib. You distracted him with his stuffed rabbit and left him. He was usually due for a nap around then anyway.

When you got back to the front room, Lee sat on your couch and you went to the kitchen to start the coffee. You waited for the water to boil and filled the percolator as you dreaded what would come next. You poured a mug and set it out on the coffee table with the sugar dish.

Lee leaned forward and spooned the sweet powder into his mug as you stood and wrung your hands. How had he figured it all out? How long had he known? Was he going to tell Eugene?

“Sit,” he said as he inhaled the savoury scent and took a cautious sip. His mug made a deafening clink as he set it down and you sat. “I s’pose you went by the phone company to end your little game.”

You sucked your lip in nervously and nodded as you looked down guiltily.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, “you know I was down there a few days ago and they just hand the records over if I say I got a warrant. They ain’t look close enough to realise it’s just a receipt.”

You gulped and kept your head down. You ran your tongue against your lip and blinked away the moisture in your eyes.

“How long you been doin’ all that?” he asked.

“Couple months,” you admitted, “I just needed some extra money. Ever since Ezra was born…”

“But you could get another job.”

“I gotta be home for the boy. Eugene never is.”

“Now a woman don’t be talkin’ like that if she happy. If she not alone.”

“Stop, please. It was a mistake. I’m sorry if you feel like I--”

“Sorry?” he interrupted, “you’re sorry? You think Gene would accept that?”

You sat in silence and picked at the button on your jacket. You hadn’t even bothered to take it off. “You gonna tell him?”

He let out a heavy breath and took another drink of coffee. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You looked at him and furrowed your brow in confusion. You shook your head as he smirked.

“I will if you make me but if you want me to stay quiet--”

“Sheriff--”

“Shhhh,” he raised a finger, “now, you want me keep my mouth shut, you be waitin’ for me tonight after he goes.”

You stared at him in terror as your heart threatened to jump up your throat.

“And then we’re done talkin��. Then you do all those things we spoke about.”

“You can’t-- I got a son.”

“And a husband but you still be talkin’ to strange men about your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

You blew a shaky breath between your trembling lips and sank down in the chair in shame. “I thought you were a good man, sheriff.”

“I am, don’t mean I’m not lonely.”

He drained the rest of the mug and coughed. He stood and adjusted his belt, his hand lingering on his belt. You watched his finger trace the barrel and your eyes crept up to his face.

“I’d hate to wake your husband, sweetheart, so I’ll be on my way.” he retreated around the couch and paused by the door, “but I’ll be around.”

🚔

The night went by faster than any. You never felt like you got much time with your husband but it was almost as if he was gone as soon as he woke. He left you with a peck on your forehead and dread in your chest. You thought of telling him, you wanted to confess and fix everything that had broken, but you couldn’t. You were too ashamed.

So when he was gone, you put Ezra down for the night and hoped the Sheriff was just trying to scare you. He couldn’t be serious, could he? You’d known him for years and he was only every sweet at the diner. He was a solitary man but was never unkind. That afternoon, he had been an entirely different man.

You sat on the couch, no radio, no nothing, and picked at the lines of your hand. You were certain you would sit up all night and laugh at yourself in the morning. He was just making sure you stopped, that had to be it.

But then the knock came and your whole body went rigid. You waited until it sounded again, harder, louder. You got up and went to the door. You didn’t need to look out to know who it was. You opened up and Lee watched you with his menacing blue eyes. They were no longer the gentle gems you knew from the diner.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled as he stepped inside and you backed away from him.

He closed the door and locked it then he removed his hat and jacket, just as he had earlier. He bent to ease off his boots and stood as he cleared his throat. He peered behind you and looked around your small house.

“I’m just in time, huh?” he mused as he touched your side and let it slip down to your hip. “What you shakin’ for?”

“I thought…” you rasped. “Sheriff, you know me. I’m not a bad woman.”

“You ain’t?” he snickered. “I do know you. I’m the only one in the county who knows the real you.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doin’ this,” you whined.

“I’m old but not decrepit,” he took your hand and raised it, “and you’re a beautiful woman. I daresay,” he kissed the back of your hand, “motherhood did make you even sweeter.”

“Please,” you begged.

“You get in that bedroom before I lose the last of my will,” he bit his lip as he looked you up and down and released your hand.

You shivered and backed away from him. You went blindly to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway. You couldn’t, not in the bed you shared with your husband. Lee came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His hot breath tickled your ear as he leaned into you.

“I wanna see what you hide under that dress,” he purred, “now don’t make me ruin it.”

You gasped and drew away from him. You neared the foot of the bed and unbuttoned the top of your dress. Your fingers were ungainly as you struggled and you pushed the sleeves down your arms with a stifled sob. You shoved the fabric past your waist and hips and his growl made you stand upright with a snap.

Your stockings were held up by fraying garters and your old underwear added to your shame. Your brasserie was pointed and too tight. You hung your head and balled your hands into fists.

“Turn around, I wanna see you,” he said.

You reluctantly obeyed and stared at the floor. He hummed and his thumb ran over his belt buckle. A sudden cry made your blood cold and he scowled. Ezra was awake.

You moved to go to him and the sheriff blocked the door.

“I gotta go to him. He must’ve had a bad dream.”

“I’ll take care of the boy. You just be waitin’ when I get back.” he ran his tongue under his teeth, “naked.”

He pointed to the bed and didn’t leave until you took several steps back. You listened as he went to the small room attached to the master. You worried he might hurt the boy but his coaxing voice surprised you.

“Shhh,” you heard the distant tone, “it’s okay, son, it’s okay.”

You reached to unhook your bra and sat to roll your stockings off. You needed this man gone. If you abided him, he would be away sooner. You dropped the last of your clothing to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Your nails dug into the blankets and you closed your eyes.

It was over a year since you’d been touched. That alone made you shy but that man made you terrified. You heard him enter but didn’t look up at him. “You get up on all fours and ready that mouth for me.” he ordered as you heard his buckle tink, “yeah, I wanna start there.”

You swallowed and did as he said. You felt like some lowly animal as you stared at the floor. You heard the flutter of fabric as he stripped and when he came close, you shut your eyes. He grabbed your hand and jerked you to the edge. He tapped the tip of his cock along your lips.

“Now, open up, sweetheart,” he snarled, “I know you remember every word I said.”

You parted your lips and he forced his way into your mouth. He poked at the back of your throat but didn’t relent. You gagged as he sank down your throat and your entire body twitched. His hand went to your neck as he drew back and pushed back in. He felt himself as he invaded your throat over and over.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” he uttered, “you can’t tell me you’re not a whore. You take me like one.”

You tried to swallow around him and breath and it made him groan. He kept fucking your face as his hand squeezed your throat. Your spit spilled out and smeared across your face and his pelvis. He kept your head bobbing until you were dizzy and dazed.

He stopped, deep down your throat, and grunted. He let out a shuddery breath and pushed you off of him. You slipped down onto your stomach and gasped over the side of the bed.

“Hoo, I almost blew,” he huffed, “oh, you bad, bad girl.” He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass, “turn around and get back up.”

You whimpered and lifted yourself back to your knees. You moved stiffly around and wiped your mouth as the taste of him stained your tongue. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back. He kneaded your ass with hungry growls and pinched your thigh. He felt along your cunt and tutted.

“You wet for me,” he taunted, “just from a taste, sweetheart.”

You dropped your head and he moved closer. He pressed the head of his dick against your folds and ran it up and down as you slickened. He lined up with your entrance and his large hand gripped your hip. He slid into you with a sigh and you let out a startled cry. Maybe it was because it was so long but he felt massive. You quivered around him and clenched your teeth.

“Oh, fuck, you want it just as bad as me, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips and you exclaimed, “how am I suppose to hold back with you squeezin’ me like that?”

He didn’t hold back as he caught his stride. He hammered into you as your flesh slapped loudly. You feared the noise would wake your son again, or worse, be heard by the neighbours. He groaned and grunted as he rammed into you and your thighs quaked. Ripples rolled over your spine and multiplied down your legs.

He stretched his hand over your back and slid them up to your shoulders. He bent over you as he forced your arms to fold beneath you and pushed your head into the mattress. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you moaned. He pulled one hand away from your shoulder as the other spread over your neck.

He slid out of your cunt and spread your juices up and down. He guided his dick between your cheeks and leaned into to pant in your ear. “I didn’t forget about your ass.”

He pushed against your hole and you tensed. His hand tightened on your neck and he poked harder.

“You relax or it’ll hurt more,” he coaxed, “come on, almost…”

He pushed past your ring and you both gasped. Your eyes filled with tears and you sniffed as he urged himself deeper past your resistance. He let out a long breath as he advanced inch by inch. He drew back each time before adding more and when he was at his limit, you sobbed and clawed at the mattress.

“Oh, oh, fuck, oh, shit,” he swore as he rocked his hips, “you know, urgh, I wanted to do this for so long. Even ‘fore I called.”

He growled and built a steady pace as he stretched you. Your tears seeped into the blanket as his grip threatened to break your neck. His belly bounced against the top of your ass as he rutted without restraint.

“I always thought ‘bout you over that table. Always thought-- Always thought you deserved better than that husband,” he rasped out, “but I never thought you’d feel so good.”

He slammed into you harder than before. Your legs fell out from beneath you and he was quick to descend over you, covering you with his body as he bent his arm across the back of your head. He fucked you into the mattress as your head began to spin and your body reacted to his.

You’d never felt anything so intense as the maelstrom of pain and pleasure building inside you. You moaned and muttered until the sudden tide swept you up and had you murmuring like a fool, drooling onto the bed as he kept on.

He planted his hand on either side of you and lifted himself. He dropped his hips down into your ass over and over. The symphony of flesh filled your mind and you succumbed to the afterglow of tortured delight. He sank as far as he could and spasmed.

“Shit, oh, sweetheart, sweetheart,” he slowed and lowered his sweaty body onto you. You suffocated beneath him as his heart beat against your back. “Oh, you made me… made me blow.” He tilted his hips. “You feel how I filled your ass?”

You let out shallow breaths and turned your face into the blanket. He grunted and raised himself off of you, his cock slipping out easily and his cum trickling down after. He fell onto his back beside you and tried to catch his breath. He reached over blindly and let his fingertips dance along your ass.

“Really it ain’t your fault,” he said as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh, “a man must be crazy to leave you all alone at night.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #The Devil All The Time #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #au #70s

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 years

Text

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

Notes:

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

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

Fandoms: Star Wars, The Clone Wars

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

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

Word Count: 2′262

Taglist: @princessayveke

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obviously, they would get rid of them immediately.

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

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

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

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

She did drink more than she should have, though.

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

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

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

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

But she could feel that someone was tailing her.

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

Fuck, I didn't take it with me!

She cursed inwardly and quickened her pace.

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

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

But maybe she had made the wrong choice with Corellia.

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

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

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

If she got caught...

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

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

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

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

Fuck, here we go.

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

"Do you need help?"

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

"Sa-Savage?"

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

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

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

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

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

So they waited, waited for a very long time.

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

Both of them wouldn't have expected that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave some for me, brother."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where am I? What happened?

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

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

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

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

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

"You're awake."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Savage."

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

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

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

"Is it?"

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

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

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

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

She could have been raped. Or kidnapped and killed.

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

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

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

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

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

Both Zabrak flashed a grin and then the younger asked:

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

She nodded and yawned as if to confirm his words.

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

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

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

#Star wars #star wars the clone wars #jedi #sith #jedi reader #fem reader #x fem reader #darth maul #savage opress #darth maul x fem reader #darth maul x reader #savage opress x reader #savage opress x fem reader #reader #fanficsforheartandsoul #fanfics #the clone wars #zabrak

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honeyandbloodpoetry · 3 years

Text

Abuse and Gender Expression - Gender Thoughts Part Three

Huuuuuge trigger warnings for peer abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, religious abuse, a murder attempt and mentions of self harm, suicidal ideation and an eating disorder. 18+ talk of sexual activity also included. Discretion advised!

I feel like the first time I realized I needed to perform high femininity to be accepted was in sixth grade. I was slotted into a rotating elective class, and the first one was a careers class. That careers class was utter hell for me. Every single day, I was tormented by an entire classroom of about twenty of my peers. I was bullied, no, abused for being fat and ugly and weird. I was called a whore, and told the only way I could ever be loved was someone raping me. Things were thrown at me, I was shoved down and tripped. I was bullied for my special interest in Transformers. I was told I was so fat and ugly I should be killed and be made into meat and cheese and fed to starving people because that was my only worth. Every single day I was told I should kill myself in varying ways. And all of that is just a quick summary. It was intense and brutal abuse for an entire semester, and I distinctly remember a day where there was a literal pool of tears on my desk. I couldn’t understand. I reached out to the teacher for help, and genuinely can’t remember exactly what he said. All I know is that he simply watched, and sometimes even joined in with “jokes” of his own. This was also the year abuse from my mother amped up, and home was a warzone--we were constantly arguing, and she became a professional at gaslighting and poking and prodding me until I exploded so I could be blamed for fighting back. My father would vacantly stand by and remind me not to fight back. This was also the year I began to self harm as a way of release.

I remember thinking that if I looked more like the girls in my class, I wouldn’t be bullied so much. I was told I was ugly and unlovable, so I thought that if I performed more femininely, maybe I could be like those who tormented me and therefore not be a target. I thought there was something inherently wrong with the way I presented myself. I convinced my mother to take me to the store, and I bought wedge heels and gaudy jewelry I did not like to wear with my uniform--replacing my autobot necklace and sweatband. In another class I was teased for not shaving and for having ugly feet, so I learned to paint my nails, file my heels, and shave every bit of hair on my body--the echo of my father saying that since I grew pubic hair, I was now a woman and held accountable for all of my sins an echo on the cusp of my mind. I did everything in my power to be more pretty and girly. I used to be loud and rambunctious, and began to go silent and demure.

I remember walking up to the class in the new get-up that was certainly not me. I felt that I would be accepted but as I walked up...I fell flat on my ass. I couldn’t walk in the heels. They all pointed and laughed at me, and the abuse continued in even higher intensity. It was until the next semester that I fought back by throwing a desk at two of my abusers who followed me to the next rotating elective, screaming and snarling at them to leave me alone. Those two in particular stopped, but abuse from others continued for many years in many instances. I developed an eating disorder, continued self harming, and began to try and form femininity and “attractiveness” to the best of my ability. I added things like bows and kitty ears and flower crowns to my wardrobe--sure they were cute, and I did like them in a way, but it felt like putting on a costume or some sort of womanly obligation. It didn’t feel like me. Years later, I was told by someone I trusted that I was “too fat to wear pants”, which I internalized and began to only wear dresses--same thing with feeling like I was wearing a costume. I tried to be beautiful. I wanted to be butch, be myself, but I felt that if I was a cute and girly girl, demure and sweet, I wouldn’t be a target. I would be loved.

And so I locked myself away.

My relationship with my mother was a rocky one. She is definitely a sick and broken person, but I doubt she will ever get help. She swings between extremes, and I was always her doll and punching bag. She had a habit of pushing and pushing, finding all the littles holes in me that triggered autistic meltdowns and despair. She criticized everything about me, from my weight and height to my blaming me for how tangled my hair was. She entered me in sports and spelling bees with gentle but insisting prodding about how good I would be when I would rather be reading or playing, and when I got frustrated she would say it was my choice...when in reality I just wanted her approval. When I got older, and especially after my father killed himself, I began to fight back and question her authority though--sometimes violently. She didn’t like that, and was violent right back, and oftentimes first. I struggled my whole life with blaming myself for my outbursts and reactions, but through therapy I have learned I was a child being gaslit and abused, shown that violence was the only answer… And through therapy, I have learned to do better and grow. The worst instance of abuse was me having an autistic meltdown where I said that we should both just die and her response was to pull out a gun and point it at me--I collapsed down into our trash covered room (I was forced to share a bed with her) and pleaded with her to stop. She threatened to kill me and help me out since I was so suicidal, then turned the gun on herself and threatened to kill herself, in which I had to talk her down. When the gun was down, I fled in a flurry of tears and barely contained screams. It was truly the most horrible moment of my life, and I still struggle with the ptsd of that moment to this day. I was only fourteen.

All that background to say, my mother was extremely possessive of my body. She seemed to love to touch my breasts and butt, jerk me around, slap my butt, watch me get dressed. When I begged her to stop, she would tell me that she made that body and could do whatever she wanted to it. I found messages on her phone of her talking to guys about having sex with me and stealing my panties. She wouldn’t let me do my own hair because I couldn’t do it right. She wouldn’t let me bathe alone until I was over ten years old. I didn’t ever have my own room until I was 18 and shared it with my partner. She never let me play with my hair and kept a close eye on what I wore. This combined with my very religious Christian father, who said things like “if you know more song lyrics than bible verses when you die, you’ll go to hell” and the aforementioned accountability, along with things like letting me know he loved God more than me and always seeming to walk in while I was changing… I always felt owned by something. I never felt like my body or my identity belonged to me alone. And so it was extremely difficult to explore myself.

Sexual exploration became an outlet. I was asexual and didn’t possess sexual attraction or a desire for coital sex (still don’t), but I enjoyed kink play with my partner and playing with myself. I enjoyed porn, mostly stories. I always felt drawn to mlm porn, but never understood why. I saw myself in the big, fat men of the stories. I wished it could be me, wished I was a big hairy man like that. Wished I could be loved like that. Reading those types of erotica always got me off and made me feel relaxed and fulfilled, no matter what kink it regarded. Of course my mom would slutshame me without even knowing what I got up to, but sexual activity and pornography helped me find solace and ownership of my body. When I was aroused and taking care of myself, being taken care of, or taking care of someone else, I felt like I was finally in control of my body and my happiness. I had been sexually abused in different ways by different people throughout my life, and finding a certain safety and security in the kind of sexual activity I explored made me feel like...me. I found myself in those big men, but still didn’t make the connection that I was not cis.

It wasn’t until many years that I began to question my gender. First nonbinary, then agender, then genderfluid, then bigender, then nonbinary again, now finally transmasc. I am autistic and struggle with a resistance to change. I have struggled with shifting my name because it feels like a betrayal to become something new. So I have become Charis instead of Charissa...but I think I may be Myles instead. Since I have struggled with abuse and feeling owned my whole life, it is scary to take my self creation into my own hands. People I am close to have expressed concern and dislike for my transition--especially my mother. I came out to her two days ago over the phone when she guessed I was transgender--or “wanted a sex change” as she put it. She outed me to her anti-lgbt boyfriend without my consent, and now they want to have a discussion. She cried and told me it was too much and she couldn’t talk yet. I am still unsure of what to do about it. I know my mother is broken, and has come far from the cruelty she was once capable of--but she still swings. I see those shattered pieces and their sharp edges and know they have the ability to cut. It is terrifying.

Coming out, especially after so many years of abuse, has been absolutely terrifying and difficult. I am still navigating how to do it, especially with a name change. The clinic I am going to for hrt screwed up with their scheduling and had to reschedule me for later this month, a frustrating thing. I am looking forward to starting hrt, but also scared how people will treat me once those changes begin happening. Even with these fears and struggling with my interpersonal relationships...this is the greatest choice I have ever made. It is my truth and my freedom, and I will fight against that fear to become my most authentic self. I have an incredible partner by my side, and with their support and my own self love, I can do anything.

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rextasywrites · 3 years

Text

Open Up Jill - a Jill Valentine monsterfucking story

Note: this is the dirtiest thing I have EVER written! monsterfucking is something i always wanted to try out but this came out dirtier and nastier than i expected it to be, but the person i wrote this for was very happy about it

Warnings: Monsterfucking! could count as rape! violence! heavy TW!!!

!!!DON’T LIKE DON’T READ!!!

Racoon City.

Hours after the outbreak.

Just to take a deep breath. A single deep breath and they’d continue their journey through the crumbling ruins of what used to be a city. Fires and enemies attacking had made their journey a risky one, often barely escaping with their lives. The bench inside of a building used to be part of a waiting room. Now it was filled with death, guts and gore.

“And how many animals are infected?”, Jill asked as she handed Carlos a water bottle, sweat rolling down her temples.

“I have no idea. I have seen some stray dogs running around, but nothing too...dangerous? Nothing that we cannot deal with.”, Carlos said after he had taken a few sips from the bottle, holding it in his hands. He had seen a weirdly mutated dog once which appeared to be larger than an usual dog, but that was a single time. He handed Jill the water bottle back, saving up the last few sips for her. Jill was thankful for this, finishing what was left before placing it on the bench next to herself.

“Can you check the door for a minute? I need to check my gun out, something isn’t right.”, she said. Carlos obeyed to the wish of his new mate, heading to the only non-blocked entrance of the room. Jill started to take her gun apart in the meanwhile, cleaning it of waste and other stuff which had blocked the trigger from time to time. It took its sweet time, cleaning zombie organs wasn’t part of Jill’s to do list. Hydrogen peroxide was good against blood, but what helped with guts of half dead...things?

“Jill, are you done?”, Carlos asked, to which she replied a simple ‘No’. Suddenly, the two heard a door being thrown shut close to them. Carlos raised his assault rifle to the place where the noise came from. One of the blocked entries… Jill frantically tried to put her gun back into one piece, failing as the entry was busted open.

In the opening of the doorway, now a huge gap in the wall, was a dog- like thing, standing on two paws as it scanned the room. Carlos, after a split second of surprise, started to fire at the mutant. To his unpleasant surprise, the bullets hardly did any damage to the animal. With a quick look, the animal saw Carlos and how uncovered he was. It grabbed hold of a chair which had been used to block the entry. In a swift motion, the animal threw the chair at Carlos, hitting him at full speed.

“Carlos!”, Jill screamed as the mercenary went to the ground, a pool for blood forming under his body. She couldn’t help herself and hurried over to the man, while the animal watched with fascination. “Hey, hey, you are gonna be okay…”, she begged, reaching over to feel on Carlos’ throat… There was a pulse! Carlos wasn’t dead!

The moment of celebration was cut short as the animal hurried over, grabbing hold of the defenseless Jill. Without a gun and with Carlos passed out under a chair, Jill was at mercy of this dog-looking creature. And she knew, it wouldn’t be gentle at all. In the best case, she’d escape with her life and a few broken bones. Worst case, death. But there was one case she hadn’t thought of before she felt it.

Was this massive...werewolf...having a boner?

Jill dared to glance down while the animal carried her, and her worries were confirmed. This thing was having a massive boner, poking right up to her ass as it carried her to the other side of the room, away from the passed out Carlos.

“No…”, Jill whispered as the thing placed her down on the floor, its cock slapping her face as she was forced down. What a weird smell, she thought, as the mutated animal towered above her, caging her in as her only way of escaping was to obey.

The mutant above her let out a grunt as it started to slap its cock against Jill’s cheeks, making her grimace at the weird feeling. She had taken several cocks before, but that was a new one..

Each slap was harder than the previous one, forcing Jill to gasp in pain as red marks showed up on her cheeks. “What the fuck?”, she asked and rubbed the painful spots once the mutant stopped for a bit.

A growl ripped her out of her pity, and the tip of the mutant’s cock was pushing against her lips.

It would never ever fit in her mouth! Shit, not even her pussy could take it!

But the mutant wouldn’t care about it.

By holding her nose shut, the dog creature tried to force Jill to breathe through her mouth. The woman fought bravely against it, but the instinct to survive came out. Jill gasped for air and in the same second, any air in her mouth was replaced by a huge cock. Her cries of pain were muffled by the sheer giant size of the mutant’s cock, minimizing any chances of her crying for help.

The mutant slowly pushed its way through her mouth and down her throat, making her gag as it was probably halfway down to her stomach by the time her nose hit its knot, no chance of getting further as her jaw was pushed to its limit. Jill tried to push it off, tears running down her cheeks as the mutant slowly dragged its cock out of her throat. By the time the tip left her lips, Jill felt as if she was about to pass out. Stars circled her vision as she was able to breathe again, spitting out all the salvia in her mouth as the mutant watched her.

“You sick fuck!”, Jill cried out, wiping the tears off her cheeks as she looked up. Her gaze caught the spit covered cock, throbbing in plain sight, showing that the mutant wasn’t even close to being done. And the sounds coming from the mutant sounded just so closely to a chuckle.

The mutant grabbed hold of Jill, throwing her across the room onto the floor, closer to Carlos, who was still laying under the chair, passed out from the impact. Jill whimpered, her last hope vanishing into thin air. Her last hope for safety, to security.

Jill had to cough as the mutant dog walked up to her, its cock still twitching as a warning sign for her. “Please not…”, she whimpered to no avail. The monster grabbed her once more, slamming her face first into one of the tables surrounding the area, her nose bleeding as she looked up. Everything felt ‘white’ at this point, as if this moment wasn’t real. But the taste of blood in her mouth and the monster’s paw on her back indicated that this was her harsh reality.

With a quick movement of its free paw, the mutant ripped her jeans open, just a big enough rip to reveal her pussy, free of any cloth which could protect her from the wolf’s wrath.

"It's not gonna fit!", Jill cried out, a last attempt to resonate with the beast behind her - to no success. The beast just huffed a breath and pressed its cock against her entrance. All the wiggling and groaning did not help as it slowly pushed inside of her, making her yell out. Pleasure? Pain? A mixture of both? Jill didn’t know anymore at this point.

Inch by inch, the monster forced its way inside of her, Jill had stopped thrashing around by now. Replaced by bliss, watching as the mutant’s cock bulged out on her stomach, twitching visible from the outside. She had never felt something like this before and probably never will again.

“Wow…”, Jill muttered, placing a free hand on the bulge, feeling every little movement that was happening inside of her. Slowly, the mutant retreated its cock from inside of her, leaving her empty and needy...just to push right back inside, making her scream out.

This very scream made Carlos blink awake. He rubbed his eyes, taking some time to realize what was going on. By this time, Jill’s pussy was fucked raw and the mutant about to pump its load inside of her. With a loud growl, the monster came inside of her, filling her up to a degree she had never felt before. She whimpered and groaned, trying to get her body away from the load flooding inside of her, and everything went black for her.

“What the hell…”, Carlos whispered as he watched the scene unfold in front of his eyes. He grabbed his assault rifle and fired a few bullets at the monster. Which, in return, drew its attention to Carlos, away from the now passed out Jill. Its cock slipped out of her as it charged towards the mercenary. Carlos got hold of the rocket launcher which landed not too far away from him and hit the mutant right into the face. Guts, brains and who knows what other fluids spew out of its throat as it dropped to the ground.

“...Carlos?”, Jill whispered as she slowly opened her eyes again, her vision a bit cloudy still. As her eyesight came back fully, she was able to see the outcome of her latest fuck session. The mutated animal was dead, Carlos’ rocket launcher had given it its rest as it tried to escape.

“Get up. We aren’t fucking done yet.”

Carlos grabbed Jill by her upper arm, dragging her back onto her feet. The mutant had left its marks on Jill, bruises, blood dripping out of small wounds, and her absolutely fucked through pussy which still leaked cum by the time Carlos had dragged her away to safety, far away from the now headless dog mutant.

“What the hell was that?”, Carlos asked, pointing to her ripped jeans, at this point they were more decoration than useful.

“This thing? A...dog?”, Jill answered, dropping on the ground as soon as they were in a secure place. She laid on her back, hand placed on her stomach as she felt the afterwaves of this absolute crazy fuck. Carlos watched her with worry in his eyes, placing his hand on Jill’s as he looked at her. “Maybe a dog. Don’t know, I hope my organs are still intact.”

Carlos sighed, letting his hand travel from her stomach to her face, cupping her bruised cheek as he leaned in, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Let's get you back to the station and patched up. Cannot fight enemies like that.”

#resident evil #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #resident evil 3

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