#WHILE I was crying you were still gaslighting and guilt tripping me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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furiousgoldfish · 3 years

Text

Tactics of narcissistic abuse

Love Bombing & Mirroring are tactics to gain your favour. These will come from a narcissist you’re just getting to know and they’re trying to convince you they’re your perfect partner, soulmate, best friend, ideal lover. Love bombing is showering you with over-the-top affection and support, they’re likely to see what works best on you, then give you just that. They’ll convince you that you’re special and make you feel special, whether it’s with attention, gifts, promises, love phrases, or making you look and feel very good in front of other people. If they can spin this as fate or destiny, they will. You have one lucky coincidence? It’s destiny that you met. They’ll create the image of ‘it’s us against the world’ and convince you that they’re all you need to never be alone, unappreciated or unhappy again. They will say phrases like 'We were born to be together’ or 'You’re the only one who understands’ and make you feel like you’re in a romance film. Mirroring is the way to convince you that they are just like you, your perfect match. They do this by pretending they want the same things as you. All of your opinions will be shared, your desires will be their desires too, however you want to live, that’s now their ideal life too. If you want children, so do they, if you want to live in a cottage, so do they.

These will be repeated until you feel like you finally got something perfect from life, you commit to them and trust them completely. You will become lenient with your boundaries and disregard minor red flags, because hey, you finally found love, or someone like yourself who makes your life better. These are crucial to keep you around for a long time; the illusion of happiness and perfect companionship you always wanted will keep you holding onto them in hope that things could once again, be this perfect for you. You will not want to let go of them even after the love bombing and mirroring is long gone. Love bombing and mirroring are not indicative of how they’re planning to treat you once you’re committed to them; as soon as they feel you are ready to fight for a life with them, roles will change and you will have to endure escalating abuse from this person, endlessly.

Scapegoats and people badly damaged by trauma will often not get the full love bombing or mirroring, narcissists will be able to win our devotion by acts of basic decency, small thoughtfulness and acting tolerant of our trauma symptoms, this will feel like everything to us, and once we decide this is a good, special person who makes us feel safe and we’d do anything for them, they’ll turn and exploit us endlessly.

Only way to spot this on time is: there will be a little voice of suspicion in your head going ’Isn’t this actually a little too perfect to be real? A little too convenient and ideal?’ and you will not want to listen to that voice. You should listen to it. It’s your instinct, trying to tell you something is off. I won’t blame you if you don’t. Most people won’t just walk away from their ideal partner because things seem 'too perfect’. But, get suspicious at least. Alert to red flags.

Enablers and Flying Monkeys

Narcissists can’t abuse if they’re on their own; they will work hard to build a reputation and charm people who they can later use for purposes of enabling, triangulating, controlling, scapegoating and smear campaigns. Enablers, or Flying Monkeys, are people who are either admiring the narcissists, want to be in narcissists good favour, are trauma bond and scared of the narcissists, are emotionally manipulated or simply too cowardly to point out that the narcissists is wrong and cruel. Most people will fall under the influence and want to be on narcissists side because it’s easier, tempting, feels safer, and doesn’t require much thinking. Narcissist will sometimes emotionally manipulate people to go do their dirty work; they will cry about how they miss their runaway children so flying monkeys would harass and judge children for running away, they will invent stories of abuse and insanity of their spouse so people would shame and judge the spouse who the narcissist is abusing. They create environment in which they can keep abusing and other people will jump to defend, justify, victim-blame and further confuse the victim. “They had a hard life”, “They’re your mother/father/uncle, you have to forgive them” or “He’s not that bad” are the phrases you’ll hear from enablers and flying monkeys. The term “Flying Monkey” is taken from the Wizard of Oz, because the Wicked Witch owned an army of brainless flying monkeys who would do her bidding – much how narcissists do with their enablers.

What enablers are doing is absolutely wrong. They should not be ready to defend abuse, or excuse and justify it, or believe and act on smear campaigns, not for any reason. They are hurting and isolating the victim, and regardless of how much they suck up to the narcissist, they will eventually become the targets too. Victims are right to cut out enablers just how they’re right to cut out abusers. You do not have to suffer for their cowardice or stupidity.

Triangulation is a form of abuse where narcissist brings another person into the relationship in order to bypass your boundary. For instance, you refuse to speak to the narcissist, so they send your family members, friends, or their friends, to talk to you about how much you’re hurting the narcissist and how cruel and unfair you’re being. Or, you’re trying to set a boundary in your marriage, and suddenly a friend or a relative comes talking to you about how unreasonable it is to set such awful boundary and to think of your spouse’s feelings and how bad they have it. Narcissist may try to use you for triangulation too, for example, they might tell you 'Go tell your sister she should do xyz and she’s making a mistake, she’ll listen to you’. It’s implied you agree with the narcissist, and that both of you are doing it for the sister’s good, when it’s more likely the narcissist is trying to force this person to do something they’re deeply set against and would only serve the narcissist. Narcissists will use their children to triangulate a marriage, they will often 'gang up’ other family members on their spouse, or one of the children. If you’re the victim, you’ll find yourself cornered, isolated, and in doubt whether you’re doing the right thing, trying to establish a boundary. Narcissists will also often show affection, compassion or even love to a third person simply to make you jealous and worried that something is wrong with you since you don’t get the same treatment. It’s what creates an illusion that the entire world is agreeing with the narcissist and no matter what you do, you look unreasonable for fighting them.

Narcissists will sometimes invent completely boogus scenarios and try to terrify people into doing their bidding and believing they’re right. As if the world will fall if narcissists don’t get what they want.

Society at large will often enable abusers; you can call out abuse and be rendered a 'killjoy’ because people prefer to enjoy cruelty together with the narcissist than to oppose them. Narcissists are capable of rousing a whole gang of people to turn against the victim and to aid in their abuse; this is scapegoating.

Gaslighting is a form of abuse where the abuser attacks your sense of reality. They will usually do this to obscure and deny acts of abuse. “I never said that” “That didn’t happen” “That’s not how I remember it” “You imagined it” or “You’re crazy, I would never do that!” are common gaslighting phrases abusers use for events that absolutely happened, and they absolutely remember. It’s even more powerful if they get other people to agree that you’re insane for remembering a past event of abuse. They can sometimes try to convince you that something didn’t occur while it’s still happening. This renders your intention of calling out abuse impossible; you’re now debating whether the event even happened and your sanity is questioned.

The point of this is to drive you into insanity; prolonged gaslighting will make you doubt your own memories and senses, and you will no longer be secure in your own point of view or version of reality. You will not be able to fight abuse, because you will get stuck on wondering if it’s even real, or if you’re making it up. Narcissist wants not only to abuse you, but to control your perception of it, reaction of it, and to disable you from telling anyone and being taken seriously. Smear campaign and gaslighting ensures that everyone thinks you’re lying to make problems, even you.

You can attempt to block gaslighting with phrases like 'That was not my experience’ 'I know the truth and I am not debating it with you’ ’ Don’t tell me what happened, I was there’ or ridiculing them for thinking it would work, but sometimes abuse will escalate if you refuse to play along, so be very careful with them.

Baiting, Projection and Scapegoating

Baiting is the way narcissist finds out which triggers will work on you. Types of baits are: Scaremongering, Accusations, False Claims, Guilt-tripping, Victim-playing, False Hope, or Intrigue. They will use these to elicit either fear&anxiety, or guilt&responsibility. You are likely to get pulled in and respond emotionally to these, and thus the narcissist will discover which one of these is most triggering and they can use it to either control you, or to affirm that they can still get you riled up, scared, guilty – they feed on being able to provoke these, it makes them feel powerful. They can later use the same trigger to push you into guilt and fear if you try to resist their control. If they continue doing this to you for a long time, you are likely to develop self-doubt and anxiety about your own persona. Way to counter this is to grey rock them.

Projection is a primitive defense-mechanism, where a person feels uncomfortable with their behaviour or thinking, so they accuse someone else of it to deflect the bad feelings from themselves. This can feel the same as baiting, but narcissists do it without realizing they’re giving you the information about what they’re actually feeling and doing. For instance, a narcissist will accuse you of being self-absorbed after they start feeling uncomfortable with how self-absorbed they are, they will start to call you selfish when it comes to their mind how selfish they are. They will accuse you of the exact shit they’ve been doing whether it’s lying, manipulating, faking for attention, cheating, exploiting, lacking compassion, stealing. These claims will feel like they’re coming out of nowhere at first, but eventually you will wonder if you’re really like that, and accept their projection on yourself, believing to really be as bad, or worse than they are. Even though they’ve done 100% of these things, while you have done none of it. This can also be countered by being aware what is going on and grey-rocking them. Deflecting the blame back to them will not work because they’ll either deflect it back, or throw a tantrum and insult you.

Scapegoating is the most vicious abuse narcissist can inflict on their victims and is designed to completely break a person’s spirit while creating power out of terror. Scapegoating doesn’t only serve to terrify and control the victim; it shows everyone what the narcissist is capable of, causing them to go very far to avoid becoming the next scapegoat. This creates enablers, flying monkeys and other benefits for narcissist to enjoy, while the scapegoat is isolated, not believed, and often shunned by the community to show loyalty to the narcissist.

Scapegoat will be blamed for every narcissists flaw, accused of provocation and creating trouble, shamed for their likes and interests, humiliated for their appearance or needs, their work will be rendered worthless and any pain and injury will be treated as if the scapegoat deserved it, or wanted it. Nothing is out of bounds to criticize or belittle in the scapegoat; flying monkeys will do it too, to either affirm themselves with the narcissist, or because they too crave power by stepping on someone defenseless. If a narcissistic parent decides to scapegoat a child, the other parent might stop caring for the child, and agree that the child deserves only to be neglected and shunned. The illusion narcissists create, of entire society agreeing that a person is irredeemable, deserving only of pain and ridicule, has turned people to suicide.

Scapegoat absorbs all of the narcissist’s malice, cruelty, sadism, baiting, projection, guilt and tantrums, so other people in the environment can get some relief and can use the scapegoat as their shield. You can be chosen to be a scapegoat for challenging the narcissist and standing up to them, for refusing to scapegoat someone else, for seeing thru them and showing any potential for undermining their authority, if narcissist is jealous of you, if narcissist feels threatened by your intellect, compassion and emotional depth they lack. And often, you’ll just be chosen because they’re in position of power and you’re unprotected. If you’re their child, a lonely classmate, employee with no high reputation or lots of friends, a minority, different in the way of sexuality or behaviour, anything that is easily used to sway a group of people against you. Narcissists will make sure to spread a smear campaign filled with lies against you, so that nobody would align with you, or believe you if you try to counter their word.

This type of treatment is beyond anything a human being could deserve, and devastating for the victim’s self esteem and sense of reality. After surviving a scapegoating situation, people might not want to find themselves in any social setting anymore. They might start believing themselves to be unlovable and defective. There is usually no way to counter it or fight your way out, unless there’s a higher authority who could side with you, or there’s a way to physically remove yourself from this environment.

Grey Rock, Hoovering and No Contact

Grey rock is a way to counter baiting and projection; narcissists learn and thrive on our emotional responses, it gives them a thrill to be able to send us into rage, terror, disbelief, shock or panic. Grey rocking means you give zero emotional response, and thus prove yourself very boring and a bad source of narcissistic supply. So, regardless of what egregious threat, accusation, claim or insult they make, you just reply with 'mhmm’ and look completely disinterested. You reply with one-word sentences, say 'sure’ or 'yup’ if they accuse you of something or try to fearmonger, answer questions with 'maybe’ or 'I don’t know’, agree with whatever bs they’re pulling out of their ass without caring, refuse to get pulled in or baited, give them no significance in the conversation until they leave. It is very hard to do, because they will up their game and even fly into rage to get a response, if they feel entitled to it. In some cases they might resort to violence. Often, they’ll keep changing the tactics until something works, and if nothing does, they’ll feel dejected and go find another source of supply. If they feel like they can’t get to you, this undermines their imagined power over you.

No contact is the only way to truly win against a narcissist; if they can’t reach you, they can’t manipulate or hurt you. This means no responding to messages, no letting them know where you live, blocking them on every service, and in most situations, even the enablers have to be no contact, because the narcissist is likely to send them into triangulation and use them to get to you. If you’re unable to go no-contact with a narcissist, a lot of people opt for 'low contact’, which means you only hear from them once a year, or once every 6 months, insufficient for them to gain control over you, and you grey-rock them all the way, and never share any personal info that might be used against you. Hoovering is something a narcissist will do to you after you’ve left them. They might leave you alone for a long time, then suddenly send a message saying they miss you, or they’re thinking about you and wishing you could do xyz together. They might also influence another person to tell you 'x misses you, they wish to see you again, they’re doing bad without you’. This is done to remind you of the 'good times’ and an attempt to draw you back in, as you’re supposed to have forgotten all the abuse already and be ready to take them back. It might come as outrageous expectation or denial of everything bad that happened – that’s because it is. All you have to do is grey-rock this, not respond, and enjoy in knowledge that even if you can’t ensure revenge, you can take yourself away from them, and they will never have you back.

Sources: Baiting, Scapegoating, LoveBombing, Gaslighting(video), Projection(video), Triangulation, Mirroring(video), FlyingMonkeys (video), Hoovering, Grey Rock

#narcissistic abuse #scapegoating #psychological abuse #narcissistic parents #emotional abuse #gaslighting #love bombing #mirroring #baiting #projection #triangulation #flying monkeys #enablers #this took 3 days to write wow #did you notice tumblr beta has a character limit???#i had to turn it off to be able to post this #i don't want a character limit on tumblr #let people read

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angelyuji · 3 years

Note

I also love Yan!Spiderman, there will never be enough content for him ! Can I request a headcannon ? Or a blurb, whatever you prefer ? I love the amnesia trope, like the reader having long-term amnesia after an accident or whatever and yan!Spiderman swooping in, saying they have been dating for months... You may get suspicious of how flustered he gets but he knows so much about you, he can't be lying, right ? 😚

17+

cw// stalking, non-consensual picture taking, kind of kidnapping, familial neglect, car accident caused by superheroes, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, forced hugs, lying, manipulation, “gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss” energy, implied murder, peter being a crybaby to guilt trip you, idk peter being gross and pervy and being a liar, toxic relationship (kind of because you’re kinda not aware of the fact that he sucks and he’s lying)

· OMGBESTIE sorry i just absolutely ADORE the amnesia trope in yandere fics GHJKJHGF

· it’s just so perfect *chef’s kiss*

· anyway

· you got into accident that totally not caused by peter…yeah, it was totally definitely the criminal’s fault …

· but i mean, why were you driving in the middle of a villain attack anyway? oh, you had to go to work?...so??? peter didn’t give you the ok?????

· right, so he’s tossing cars and trying to bring justice (or something like that) and he saw you coming, but alas, he's too late

· you see something hurtling towards your car as you stop at a red light. you squint your eyes, “oh. ha, that’s a car…wait”

· peter was only a couple feet away when he sees the truck he threw slam against the hood of your car, crumpling the hood like it’s made of aluminum foil. time moves in slow motion as peter tries to reach you. out of reflex, peter shoots his webs to move you from impact. he can feel himself move, but his mind shuts down. when he regains consciousness, you’re in his arms, passed out, but seemingly unscathed. he feels relief, then fury. peter barely noticed when the paramedics came to move you out of his arms. he turns to the villain, his whole body shaking, and launches himself at the man.

· you end up in the hospital for a brain injury that left you in a coma and peter literally never left your side. he came every day and stayed by your side until visiting hours were over, and came into your room at night as spiderman after patrol.

· the hospital staff saw him so much that they assumed you were both in a relationship, so when you woke up at night during his patrol hours, they called him first.

· they called your parents after…weird, i know

· “how do you feel?”

· “fine, i guess. tired, surprisingly” you chuckle dryly and the doctor smiles.

· “fine is good. what’s the last thing you remember?”

· “…um….i can’t… I don’t-”

· “hey, it’s okay. take your time.” the doctor tries to be reassuring, but you feel panic bubble. what’s going on, why can’t you remember what happened? what’s happening to you? your breathing turns rough and the air feels thicker as you seem to remember less and less of what you should know. all of a sudden, two arms wrap around you and pull you into them.

· “it’s gonna be okay” they mumble into your hair as you cry into their shirt.

· peter and the doctor eventually figured out that you were missing 4 years of your life. the 4 years that you’ve lived in queens, to be exact.

· peter realizes exactly what he has to do when the doctor pulls him and your family aside to explain the situation

· (they had asked him who tf he was and he, in a panic to not be kicked out, said y’all were dating)

· he offers your family a way out, a way to not take the stress of taking care of you, by letting him take care of you

· “i love them. i can’t lose them and i won’t lose them, so please, let me take care of them”

· honestly, your family was lowkey relieved that peter offered to take care of you, not even remembering that you have never mentioned this man in any conversation (who has amnesia now??)

· peter would go into your room and tell you that you’re going home with him

· “what? what about my family?”

· “they’re okay with it. they have a lot going on and, as your boyfriend-”

· “boyfriend? i’ve never seen you before in my life?”

· “no! no, we started dating when you moved to queens!" at your blank stare, he lowers his head slightly and you see tears fall, "i wish you would remember”

· peter will pull out his pictures of you saying stuff like “then how do i have these pictures?? hmm????” and fake crying to make it seem like he was your grieving boyfriend

· he’ll be constantly mentioning the fact that he’s your boyfriend to you and to others (at some point, ur confused on whether he’s trying to convince you or trying to convince himself) “as your boyfriend’ “your boyfriend” “i love being with you and going on dates haha yk since im your bf”

· he’ll make up different stories from places he’s seen you. if he stalked you while you were walking at the park, he’ll say you both went on walks often. if you went on picnics by yourself often, he’ll say you constantly had picnic dates. had a fun day at the arcade? more like, you had fun day at the arcade with peter!

· peter’s smart, he uses these events as a way of tricking your brain into thinking that each memory you recover of these moments are just moments that are missing him, and eventually, he’ll start appearing in memories

· peter would take you to his apartment and absolutely REFUSE to let you leave, he’ll have an excuse ready to make sure you can’t leave your new home

· “the doctor said you shouldn’t move too much”

· he’ll make you sleep in the same bed as him, go on dates with him, hug and kiss him like “you used to do” with the excuse of “the doctor said you should do things that you used to do before the accident to start remembering everything”

· …riiight

· “are you coming to bed?” you lay in his bed, waiting for peter.

· “i-i sorry, yes, I-” peter stumbles on his words as he stands by the bed.

· you sit up in annoyance, “peter, you said we slept together. what’s wrong?”

· peter turns bright red, “no! nothing’s wrong! it’s nothing, i-i’m coming to bed in a sec.” you lay back down and soon you feel him crawl into bed. you turn your back to him, but peter pulls you closer to him and start leaving kisses down your back.

· “what are you doing.” you whisper into the darkness. his small touches feel foreign on your skin and your body itches to move in disgust.

· “i’m helping you sleep. uh-before, i helped you fall sleep like this, maybe this’ll help you remember” peter pushes his head into the crook of your neck and holds you closer, his fingers grazing under your shirt and feeling your stomach.

· you try to move away without panicking, “maybe, we’re moving too fast? i kinda need some spa-” you feel peter freeze.

· “do-do you not love me anymore?” you feel peter’s tears before you hear his sniffles, “i didn’t want to push you, but i just missed you so much and i thought that you were starting to remember how much you love me.” his sniffles turn to sobs and you start feeling guilty. you push your discomfort away and let yourself get pulled into his warmth.

· “no, it's fine. just don’t, you know, cry please.” you press your lips into a thin line and sigh as peter stops sniffling and hums in content.

· he’ll guilt you into doing what he wants with tears and sobs about how he misses “the old you”

· funny, considering the fact that this mf basically made up his entire relationship with you because he’s literally psychotic

· your relationship would be seemingly normal too, except that all of the friends that talked about how they’ve never met peter before your accident went missing…huh, definitely no connection there…

· but by the time they inform you of their concern, it is already months after your accident and peter would have already made you believe that you were dating

· in peter’s mind, you’re everything and more than he imagined, even though you barely know him, he knows you so well that it’s easy for him to make you believe that you’re together.

· peter would tell he’s spiderman once you’ve stopped resisting him to make sure that you won’t search up your accident and see that spiderman was involved

· the only way for you to break from peter’s grip on your mind is for him to accidently confess that he’s lied to you

· and that’ll happen, peter may be good at lying, but during a fight, he might let it slip

· “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO THEM.”

· “they’re my friends, peter. you can’t stop me from seeing them.” you roll your eyes when peter’s face crumples. “ugh, peter, stop with the guilt-tripping. your fake tears don’t work on me anymore.”

· peter’s face turns cold, “your friends are liars and they’ve been trying to break us up since the accident. all they say when they see me are lies.”

· you keep a straight face, “well, i know it’s a lie, so you don’t have to act like this.”

· “but-but what if you start believing them? what if you realize that you can do better than me? what if you remember everything? what if they make you break up with me? wh-” peter turns to you and sees you frozen in place. he moves towards you and pulls you into a hug, but you stay stiff.

· “what do you mean “remember”?” you whisper and peter’s eyes go wide. silence fills the room as peter says still.

· “well, shit”

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davidsons89 · 3 years

Text

Toxic Turner - part 20 (tw)

WARNINGS: this story contains signs of a toxic and manipulative relationship. also contains smut, mentions of drugs and alcohol. some scenes contain forms of abuse. read at ur own risk :)

A/N: this chapter is long, and probably makes no sense. it took me a few days to process this, so i hope y’all like it <3

alex eventually got up and followed you out of the room after you scurried off. before you ran upstairs, he grabbed you and began yelling at you. you didn’t have the energy or guts to argue back, so he was basically bullying you. he began to get violent with his words and soon hands, and your family started to worry. it wasn’t long before your family entered the hallway and started yelling at him too, causing a very heated argument between them. you stand aside and listen, not getting involved in the back and forth yelling.

“i don’t fucking abuse her, you would’ve seen it by now” alex yells at your sister who accuses him of hitting you. “we have seen it” your sister yells back at him as she’s on the verge of attacking him herself, but she’s trying to contain herself because she doesn’t want to start physical drama in this moment.

“where? where the fuck do you see that i abuse her?” alex asks angrily, reaching down to grab your arm, forcing it in his direction to show your relatives that you have no physical marks or bruises on your skin. you yank your arm back after he proved his point, sighing as you tuck them behind your back, intertwining your own fingers so he wouldn’t grab you again.

“there’s nothing there now but there has been before, i’ve seen it with my own eyes” your cousin steps in as he was tired of seeing alex verbally abusing your sister. “yeah because you’re too busy stalking our lives when you need to live your fucking own and mind your business” alex densely says in your cousins face. you could tell the two wanted to hit each other, but none of your relatives would let that happen because it won’t lead to anything better.

“she’s the fucking psycho one here, not me” alex makes his voice heard while pointing at you to bring attention to you too, so he wasn’t facing the backlash alone even though he’s at fault. “how am i?” you ask innocently, your voice cracking with fear of him. “you say the worst things about me, you act as if i’m the worst person in the world but you’re choosing to stay with me” alex says to you, causing your cheeks to turn red as all eyes are on you while listening to his wise words. you know what he’s about to say will hurt you, it’s like he’s reading from a script he’s rehearsed in his own head, like he’s waited for the moment to call you out so that you look like the bad person in this bad situation.

“you are so fucking ungrateful, it’s like you use me because you’re a prissy little princess. you talk to other men, flirt with them and act like you don’t have a boyfriend that does fucking everything for you” he whined in a complaining matter. “i live with you, i but you things, i take you places, i always make sure you have reasons to have a good day because i never want you to be sad. i do everything for you, just for you to disrespect me.” he says, instantly guilt tripping everyone around him and changing their opinions. you’re the only one that can see the blatant manipulation and gaslighting, but everyone else is too dull to realize it.

everyone fell silent for a moment or two, soon realizing that you’re the bad one in this situation, even though you’re their own blood. “are you serious?” your mom questions, breaking the peaceful silence between you all. you’re only quiet because you’re lost for words, there’s no come back to that because he’s already turned over everyone’s hearts. “wh- really?” you widen your eyes at your mom, having the audacity to believe alex over her own daughter.

“why would you do that stuff?” your sister asks, frowning as she began to feel bad for yelling at alex for what she believed to be no reason. “i didn’t do that stuff i-” you begin to defend yourself but get cut off before you can finish talking. “ohh that’s why you stripped off in front of everyone, for attention” your aunt joins in. “are you for fucking real?” you gasp and laugh slightly, you can’t help but find it strictly funny how your own family is turning against you.

“and you invited that guy into the pool, being all flirty and seductive” your sister frowns, pulling a grossed out face at you as she made you seem like a whore for a harmless invitation. “you guys are seriou-” you say, but get cut off once again because none of them care for what you have to say. “how are you guys believing this fucking asshole?” your cousin steps in to save you from being alone and defenseless. “oh shut the fuck up, you’re seeing things from all those drugs you inhale” alex begins to taunt your cousin for his secret drug use, which alex just exposed to everyone.

“yeah, you think i don’t know you stalk me? i see you watching me all the time, but while you’re too just figuring out my relationship, i found out a lot about you. why don’t you go ahead and tell your mother about the heavy drugs you take daily?” alex exposes your cousin, making you feel absolutely terrible because he got caught out just for trying to save your ass. everyone is silent for a moment, making your cousin extremely angry. alex stands and watches his anger rile up inside of him, just as he moves his stance to try to take a punch at alex.

before your cousin could hit him, a few of your relatives hold him back so he doesn’t start an unnecessary fight. “worry about your own life next time” alex says, taunting your cousin as he leans closer to him, knowing he’s completely defenseless as he’s being held back. while everyone is distracted with your cousin, alex slips away and grabs your forearm, dragging you up the stairs and pulling you into your bedroom.

he shoves you into the room first, then follows behind you and closes the door behind him, sneakily locking it behind him as you stand frozen with fear. “do you feel better about yourself now? look what you’ve caused” alex raises his eyebrows, unusually calm for something that nearly ruined his reputation.

“look what i caused? that was unnecessary alex, you didn’t need to bring him into it...” you furrow your eyebrows with pure innocence, giving him puppy eyes in hope that he’ll go easy on you, but while everyone is distracted by arguing with your angry cousin, this is his only chance to catch you alone where nobody will do anything about it.

“i don’t think it was unnecessary, love. he’s been watching me for months, i’m not as stupid as you think” he talks in a smart, calm tone which made you think he wasn’t angry at all, but he’s fucking terrific at hiding his emotions, especially when it comes to you. “you let him try to ruin our relationship, you were letting it happen, why?” he asks, tilting his head like a confused dog waiting for your response. “because we’re not good together. you’re crazy, i hate the way you are” your voice breaks with nervousness.

“then why are you still with me?” alex asks, changing his tone as if he’s speaking to a child. “i.. don’t know” you gulp nervously as you see him take a step closer to you, and another so that he’s stood right in front of your face. “it’s because you don’t hate me, you love me” he whispers, bringing his hands up to your face to hold your cheeks in his hands gently. “do you love me?” he whispers in a manipulating tone, staring into your eyes to make sure you choose the right answer.

you slowly nod, showing him that you do in fact love him. “then why the fuck do you disrespect me, huh?” he asks, his calmness slipping away as he moves his hands from your cheek to your neck to grip the roots of your hair, tugging at them to hurt you. “i don’t disrespect you, al..” you nervously say, putting your hands on his arms to try and move them but you’ve got zero luck. “i fucking love you, and you treat me like i’m nothing. who’s the abuser now?” he taunts your, inches away from your face to make you afraid as he tugs harder at your hair.

“i don’t-” you begin to wail and whine, but you aren’t given a chance to speak. “shut up” he raises his voice, causing you to flinch as his face is right in front of yours. “what the fuck have you been telling him about me?” he begins to get physically angry now, raising his voice and gripping you harder.

“i didn’t say anything” you wail again, tears forming in your eyes at how hard he’s pulling at your roots. “bullshit, what did you say?” he scoffs, waiting for your answer but you ignore him. “what did you fucking say y/n?” he yells at you, causing your bottom lip to quiver. “i didn’t say anything to him, al, he figured it out for himself i promise” you begin to cry, your voice shaking with guilt and fear.

“you expect me to believe you? when all you do is lie?” he laughed in your face to make you feel stupider than you already felt. “i’m telling the truth i swear” you cry, furrowing your eyebrows innocently so he’ll believe you, but it’ll take a lot more than tears. “i’m gonna ask you one more time, what have you told him about me?” he asks calmly, sighing through his nose to stop himself from getting angrier than he already is.

you sigh and gulp nervously. “i.. the only thing i said was that.. you’re mean sometimes, and that you scare me when you’re angry” you hesitate to say, avoiding eye contact with him, but he grabs your cheeks again and forces you to look at him. “so you did say something to him, and you lied to me about it” he raises his eyebrows as if he’s scolding a kid. he does treat you like a child sometimes, which is frustrating because he doesn’t understand you.

“i’m sorry..” you innocently whisper as you wish he’ll forgive you, but he’s acting nice before the storm. “you’re sorry?” he chuckles, sliding his hand to your throat to back you against a wall tightly. “you’re fucking sorry?” he raises his voice with anger, making you flinch at his words. each time you flinch or look away, he grips your throat tighter to leave marks on your delicate skin. “look at me when i’m talking to you” he says, digging his nails into your skin.

“alex stop” you cry, whining as he’s doing nothing but scaring and hurting you. “stop? you want me to stop?” he yells again, closing his hand against your throat so that it began to get impossible to breathe, he’s actually quite scaring you. you nod as tears stream from your eyes, but he doesn’t care at all. “you let them all think i abuse you, when all i do is care for you” he manipulates the situation, trying to make you feel bad for him instead of the opposite.

“i love you” he says, dropping his grip on your throat which caused you to gasp and regain your breath properly, you froze in fear as you were too frightened to run away, he’d only hurt you more. “you don’t love me.. you’re obsessed with me” you sniffle, bringing your hand up to your face to wipe away your tears.

“you’re abusive and toxic and.. you need help” you sympathize, trying to get him to realize the truth but it’s not as easy as you think. “you think i’m abusive and toxic?” he scoffs a laugh in disbelief of your audacity. “you are.. you say you’re in love with me but you hurt me, and control me and-” you slowly let out, finally telling him the truth of your thoughts but he has none of it.

he cuts you off by gripping a fistful of your hair and pulling your face towards his so that you’re inches away from each other. “i’ll show you abusive and toxic, you want that?” he whispers dominantly to intimidate you, and it was working. “no i don’t want that” you cry to him, he seems to like it when you cry. it makes him feel powerful, like he’s in charge of you.

“are you sure? because you seem to tell everyone that i am, so you must want it” he starts to sarcastically taunt you in your face, making you want to slap him but that’ll only result in causing pain for yourself. “i never meant it like that” you say, placing your hands on his chest to push him away from you, but it only makes him grab both of your upper arms and pin you against said wall.

“then how did you mean it? huh?” he asks, pinning you against the wall harder as he raises his voice at you towards the end. “i don’t know alex.. you’re hurting me” you whine, trying to thrash about underneath his solid grip but he’s way stronger than you’d imagined. “good, shut up” he says, demanding you to quit whining and be quiet. “why do you call me abusive?” he asks, raising his eyebrows to get a good answer out of you. “look at yourself.. you hit me, you call me names, you act like you own me, and you’re pinning me against a wall as we speak” you say, using a sarcastic tone at the end as you stand up to him by raising your voice.

“i do fucking own you. i’ve made that clear since day one” he says, forcefully grabbing your face with one hand again, as his other stays pinning your arm against the wall. with his grip on your face, he pulls it so that you’re constantly looking at him and listening to him. “no you don’t, i’m your girlfriend not your fucking pet” you say, using your strength to thrash under his hold of you. “stop fighting me, stop it” he says, gripping harder on both your arm and face to keep you against the wall.

“no, fuck you” you say, still building up all your strength to overpower him. as each second goes by, your anger levels rise causing you to get physically stronger. you finally manage to get out of his grip and shove him back, making him stumble as you hit him. “i fucking hate you” you yell at him, watching him regain his balance again. “yeah? if you hate me so much then fuck off” he yells, aiming his arm at the door to point at it. “no, you leave” you frown, motioning your head towards the door.

“i’m not leaving” he says, dropping his arm as he slowly shakes his head. “well i’m not leaving either” you say, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at each other for a few moments. “good. now what made you think you can fucking hit me?” he raises his voice at you, storming back over to you until he’s inches away from your face again. “so you’re allowed to hit me but i can’t hit y-” you begin to argue back, but he quickly cuts you off by harshly slapping your face, then using the same hand to grab your throat and pin you against the wall.

“no, you can’t fucking hit me. you’re a weak, no good, pathetic little slut who deserves nothing” he intimates you, talking down on you as his veins vigorously stand out in his hand wrapped around your neck. “if i deserve nothing then why do you act like you give me everything?” you ask shakily. his harsh grip on your throat is affecting your speech. “i do give you everything, you’re just ungrateful. the only thing you’re good for is sex” he taunts, chuckling to being you down. “so you just use me?” you scoff, trying to push him away but it only made his hand squeeze your throat fighter.

“who wouldn’t use you? you have a perfect little body, and a perfect little pus-” he began to say, but you quickly got sick of his words. “you’re disgusting” you cut him off, shaking your head. “you’re so easy, like a little whore. any man could give you the slightest touch, and you’d be wetter than a pool” he says, slowly gliding his other hand to your stomach, trickling his fingers down to your thigh. you gulp and try to look down, but he forces your head back up. he stares into your eyes, making you tremble.

“i bet i could seduce you right now. go on, close your eyes” he says calmly, quietening down after he yelled at you at the top of his lungs just a minute ago. you slowly shake your head, causing him to shush you. he sees how nervous you are, so he calms you down. he moves his hand from your throat and lightly places it over your eyes to cover them. “close your eyes and imagine someone else touching you. not me” he whispers, testing something. he’s playing a trick on you to later use it against you, you know this but you’re too scared to reject him.

his fingers make their way into your underwear. it comes as a shock to you because you can’t physically see. “alex...” you innocently say, but he quietens you again. “shh, love. just imagine someone else touching you” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. the two of you remain silent, the only noise you hear is the agitating sound of your family arguing like a bunch of high school kids downstairs.

“are you imagining the touch of another guys hand?” he whispers, watching your face as his hand covers your eyes. “i.. suppose” you gulp, not knowing the right answer, but you don’t want to disobey him. “good” he whispers, slowly pointing his two fingers out to drag them down your slit to your entrance. he feels how wet you are, and you hear his slight chuckle. “see? i knew how easy it would be to turn you on” he whispers, forcefully pushing his two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and jolt your hips back.

“that’s the fastest you’ve ever gotten wet. to the thought of another man, you’re a proven whore after all” he scoffs, dropping his hand from your eyes and ripping his fingers out of you, making you gasp again. “ale-” you begin to say as he walks away, but he cuts you off by turning around and slapping you harder than he did before.

“shut the fuck up. get downstairs and tell your family that our relationship is fine” he aggressively points in your face hoping you’ll do as you’re told. “and what if i don’t?” you ask nervously, trying your best to stand up to him but you weren’t able to overpower him right now. he sighed at your question before raising his hand to the back of your head, gripping a fistful of your hair and yanking it slightly. “or i will show you what abusive really fucking means” he quietly threatens, roughly letting go of your hair which caused you to stumble back. “now go” he points towards the door. you huff and walk out with him watching your every step.

you realise the door is locked, but ask no questions. you jiggle the door knob open and leave the room, closing it after you and heading downstairs. you’re immediately greeted by the sight of your family arguing with one another. you stepped foot downstairs for five seconds and already began getting a headache. “guys, shut up” you say, trying to break up the heated fight between a few of your relatives. they all ignored you. “shut up” you raise your voice, pushing your aunt away from your cousin, she was extremely close to attacking him.

they all ignored you again. you continued asking until you got fed up, but you soon realised that they’re all guests in your house so you’re the one in charge. “SHUT THE FUCK UP” you yell, gazing at your family members as you push the remaining few away from your cousin. “get out, go home” you demand to your relatives who are causing you nothing but a massive headache. “are you ok?” your cousin asks, but this isn’t about you. “i’m fine. we’re fine, nothing’s going on between me and alex” you reassure everyone as you look around catching some glares. “but-” your cousin begins to interrupt, but you quickly cut him off. “leave it. guys, go home” you say to the rest of your relatives as you stand in front of your cousin to show you’re on his side.

“why don’t you kick the druggy out?” your sister scoffs offendedly. “because he’s the only that’s on my side. the rest of you believed alex over me, which is why i want you to get the fuck out” you say, respectfully pointing towards the door while making heavy eye contact with your mom and sister specifically. “so alex does hit y-” your mom began to say, but you cut her off too. it feels nice to show a bit of dominance for once, you should do it more often.

“no mom, he doesn’t” you interrupt her by raising your voice over hers. “he definitely does, he’s been dodgy since day one” one of your sisters friends joined in. “nah, alex wouldn’t do that” your sister disagrees. “i’ve seen the way he speaks to her” your cousin butted in. soon later, everyone started agreeing and disagreeing with each other about the theory of alex abusing you. “oh my god, he doesn’t. we’re fine, end of. please go home” you say stressfully, pointing to the door while placing your other hand on your sister’s shoulder to make her be the first one to leave.

“fine whatever. have fun with druggy” your sister scoffs, pushing past everyone to leave first. it took about 20 minutes to get everyone out, but you let your cousin stay. “i’m gonna kill alex when i see him” your cousin sighs, feeling nothing but pure anger because he was exposed in front of his entire family. “do it, man. i’m right here” alex chuckles from the top of the stairs, catching you both by surprise. you both look up the stairs and see him sitting one one of the top steps. “how long have you been there?” you frown up at him. “since i heard you actually standing up for yourself for once” alex shrugs.

“oh..” you say, letting awkwardness slip in as all three of you remain silent for a few moments. “so, you gonna kill me or what?” alex asks, sarcastically raising his eyebrows at your cousin stood next to you. “i would’ve done it by now if i was actually going to” your cousin replies, frowning at him. “well, don’t say you’re gonna do something when you’re not.” alex says, standing up as he began walking down the stairs. your heart began to race, you didn’t want them to start arguing or fighting so you quickly stood between them as alex reached the bottom step.

“i want you to respect me when you’re in my house. don’t come here and try exposing me in front of everyone when you’re hiding things of your own” alex confidently says. his cockiness is quite sexy, but also very intimidating at the same time. “i want you to respect my cousin. she’s a great girl, she doesn’t deserve to be disrespected by an asshole like yourself” your cousin takes a step forward, but you nudge him back to keep them away from each other.

“yeah, i agree with you on that one” alex nods, walking past you both as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, and a lighter from the other. “go outside with that” you frown at him as he lights the cigarette and turns towards you, taking a puff right in the middle of the hallway. “are you gonna ask me nicely?” he asks, blowing the smoke in your direction to piss you off. “can you please take that outside?” you ask, sighing as you point to the backyard through the hallway. “yes i will. and when i come back, i expect you to fuck off” alex says, locking his eyes onto your cousin who wanted nothing more than to hit him, but you won’t let that happen.

alex left the house and stood in the back yard for a while, thinking about life as he smokes a cigarette to himself. your cousin eventually left, you apologized to him for “lying” and on behalf of whar alex caused. you knew that after today, you and your family will drift apart. nothing will be the same after they believed alex over you, their own flesh and blood. you can’t forgive them, but most importantly, you forgave alex again... he distracts you from your own relationship problems by causing havoc within your family, he’s willing to do anything to have you all to himself. anything.

#toxic turner

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spiderling-space · 4 years

Note

i was thinking of a fem mc running from a yandere azul as a suitor but the twins find her and bring her back to him. add some nuzzling, caressing, etc afterwards.

Italics indicate thoughts

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

Warning: Yandere tendencies, feelings of dread, manipulation, unhealthy relationship but no explicit content

Run, (Y/N) run!

She didn’t even stop to catch her breath but somehow she got caught by the twins. She had her legs her entire life while the twins only had them for a couple years. How is this possible?! (Y/N) thought as she tried to loosen their grip on her arms. Floyd must have had it enough of her attempts to get away since he just threw her over her shoulder. (Y/N) wasn’t docile at all, she pounded on Floyd’s back, hoping to hurt him so he would drop her. “Eh Shrimpy wants to play rough?”

Jade had his “smile” on his face, closing his eyes. “Hmm, it seems so.”

(Y/N) shivered when she understood their implication. “Alright, alright! I’ll stop, I promise!”

Floyd sounded as if he was disappointed that she stopped struggling but Jade reminded him she was Azul’s little angelfish. After pouting a bit, Floyd continued carrying her to Azul. They went to Azul’s octa pot and Floyd dropped her on the ground before the twins left Azul and (Y/N) alone.

(Y/N) stood up, rubbing her butt to ease the sudden pain and she looked at Azul. His back was turned at first, making her think that she still had a chance to get away from him or at least knock him out. Of course, it was just wishful thinking. Azul turned to look at her. She saw his eyes were red and his face was glistening which made her assume he was crying.

As he was taking steps towards her, she backed away, yet in the end, Azul was much faster than her and wrapped her between his arms. “My Angelfish, I thought you were gone for good. Why are you doing this to me?” He tightened his hold on her, not wanting to let go soon. “Why would you make me fall in love with you then leave me? Do you enjoy making me feel miserable? Are you like bullies from my childhood? You know I can’t live without you.”

It was suffocating for her. All those manipulative talks, playing victim, guilt-tripping, gaslighting and of course sugar-coated threats were taking a toll on her. She didn’t want to be in a relationship in the first place. She was just being friendly and kind. Why does the universe punish me for being a good person? She complimented Azul’s merfolk form since he still looked good that way even though he was insecure about it. She offered to listen to his childhood stories which were more like trauma. She held his hand when it was too much for him and told him ‘It is okay. You’re with me now. I’ll be here whenever you need someone to just listen.’ Oh, how she regretted those moments. She thought it was her fault that she couldn’t see signs before, that she was an idiot for it.

Azul caressed her cheek while gazing into her eyes. His caress was burning her even though his hands were cold. “You know I love you and only do this to not lose you. Please understand me.” He leaned towards her, their foreheads were touching. He closed his eyes and sighed. (Y/N) tried to push him away but his grip was too strong for her, a human. “I know what to do now. I’m sure you’ll see from my way. I’m preparing the contract now, of course, you can check the terms.” Azul withdrew from her, walking away from her as the alarm bells rang in her ears. “You know what would happen if you don’t sign it.”

No, not my friends! He threatened her or more accurately her friends every time she defied him. Be a good Angelfish and the twins won’t visit Ace, Deuce or Grimm. She had never understood how he went from a clingy persona to an intimidating one. She just assumed his actions changed according to her behavior. She thought of a way to change his mind from signing a contract. As much as she dreaded what she was about to do. It was better than being bound to him with a deal or her friends getting hurt.

She grabbed Azul’s hand, tugging him. When Azul turned to face her, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. Azul froze for a moment then he responded to her kiss. (Y/N) knew he loved it when she ‘willingly’ initiated the contact. He out his hand to her waist whilst pulling her closer, an act caused (Y/N) to tremble. She felt relieved when he stopped and slowly backed away. “As much as I love this you, I’m afraid we are beyond the point where no contract is needed. Fufufu~~”

No no no! She felt her world crashing down once more when her only way of escaping, not having a contract with Azul, was taken from her. All she just wanted was her freedom, her basic right. Was it too much to ask for?

#twisted wonderland #twst #octavinelle #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yandere #yandere twst #yandere #female reader #azul ashengrotto #halloween event #ficlet

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korkgetthespork · 3 years

Text

First Punishment - Yandere Reactions

How would yandere Byakuya, Nagito, and Kokichi react to their darling trying to escape from their captor?

Trigger Warning: Gaslighting, Manipulation, Kidnapping, and mentions of the breaking of bones.

Byakuya Togami

Byakuya would be a bit amused that you tried to leave him, but he also felt frustrated, and surprised.

Byakuya had many cameras throughout the house, not to mention, it was pretty hard to escape with all the security

Obviously, you had to be punished.

He couldn’t just let you walk away scot-free, after all. Someone had to teach you how to behave.

You didn’t even get the chance to make your way to the door.

Byakuya already knew something was fishy.

You were in Byakuya’s room, looking around for things that could get you out of this hellhole.

Anything.

Anything that could help would be great.

While you were rummaging through Byakuya’s stuff, guess who came inside and caught you red-handed?

Byakuya himself.

And that is the story of how you got in this situation.

Now you’re sitting in the dark old basement where you woke up in, sitting in the same chair you were tied to.

Your heart was pounding as you looked at the basement door, waiting for Byakuya to come down.

You just wanted to get it over with by now.

You were breathing heavily, scared of what was going to happen to you.

Hoping the punishment wouldn’t be physical, since this was the first time you ever got punished, you sighed.

As the basement door creaked open, you tried your best to steady your breathing.

Byakuya stood at the door, his blue eyes narrowing as they met your (e/c) eyes.

“Since this is your first ever punishment, it won’t be harsh.” Byakuya walked down the stairs. With every step he took, you felt the need to panic. “Plus, you’ve been quite obedient lately, except for the fact you tried to leave.”

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but Byakuya held a food tray in his hands. Byakuya loomed over the (h/c) haired girl, resting the tray on her lap before turning away, heading back towards the steps that would lead him upstairs.

“That’s the only food you’ll be getting until you apologize. I do not care about the fact that you’re tied up. Use that small brain of yours and try to find a way to eat it, or you can starve.” (S/O) watched as Byakuya made his way up the stairs, leaving the basement. The door swinging shut behind him.

Well, this could be worse.

Nagito Komaeda

Nagito would feel hurt. I mean, why would you want to live here with trash like him? But then again, he was a bit sad. He wanted to love you, but he already knew he was undeserving of love.

You were at the front door, trying to unlock it, the key in your hands. Resting your palm on the doorknob, you were ready to finally escape.

But before you could even pull open the door, you felt familiar fingers wrap around your hips. You were pulled into a tight embrace, your captor from behind holding you tightly.

“(S/O)...I was so worried about you! I’m sorry...so, so, sorry. I’m trash, aren’t I? No wonder you want to leave me so badly..” Nagito ranted on, degrading himself as he hugged you from behind.

Nagito was so relieved that he had found you. As you screamed and sobbed, wanting to so desperately leave, Nagito didn’t hear it.

He was too happy to even see how sad you were.

Nagito brought you to your room. The room he designed for you. The room he gave you. Your captor.

Nagito sat your trembling form onto your bed.

Seeing the tears roll down your cheeks, Nagito took a seat on the bed next to you.

Nagito made sure not to touch you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Plus Nagito knew scum like him didn’t deserve to even look at you, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Please...please don’t hurt me...” You choked out between your loud sobs. Nagito sighed, feeling pity.

He caused your despair. But you have hope. It can overcome your despair, right?

“I’m not, so you don’t have to worry. I’d never hurt you, (S/O).” A smile graced Nagito’s face as he said this.

He kidnapped you and treated you with nothing but utter and complete kindness.

Maybe...just maybe you were...no, that would just be strange.

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi would be happy. Amused, even. You? Trying to escape from him? There was no way that was going to happen, but being the idiot you were, you still tried to escape. But...he also felt a bit sad.

You were warily opening up the window in Kokichi’s room. You kept on looking behind you, trying to see if he was here or not.

Making sure he wasn’t here for the 11037th time, you finally opened the window, letting a sigh of relief escape from you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“(S/O)-chan, what are you doing~?” That voice. It was him. Kokichi.

You froze with fear, not knowing what to do, thoughts swarming throughout your head.

“Kokichi, I-- uh...” You stuttered, not knowing what to say. If you had lied, Kokichi would’ve known anyways, so what was the point?

“Hmm? What was that again?” Kokichi urged you to speak up, putting his hand to his ear.

You kept your mouth shut, sweat dropping down your face.

Kokichi had a wide smile on his face, clearly enjoying seeing you like this, waiting for you to fight back, only for your struggles to become nothing in the end.

“Well, are you going to say something? I’m getting bored!” Kokichi whined, hugging you from the behind, stopping you from going anywhere.

But...you could still yell! You could still shout outside the open window, and someone...someone would here!

“HELP! SOMEBODY!” You screamed as loud as you could, but before you could scream more, Kokichi’s hands flew to your mouth, covering it up.

Without hesitating, you bit Kokichi’s hand. Kokichi grunted, wincing as he held his hand. You desperately stared at the window, running over to it, trying to find a way out of it. Knowing it wouldn’t take much more time for Kokichi to run over to you, you climbed out the window, holding onto the sill of the window.

With your head craned down, staring at the grass that was low below you, wide eyed. It was a long way down. Scared, your head perked up to see the angry purple haired boy in front of you.

“Nishishi, so desperate for escape, are we~?” Kokichi giggled like an innocent child, the malice in his eyes still showing. “Well, bye bye! Have a nice fall, (S/O)-chan!”

Kokichi stared at your fingers that rested on the sill of the window. Kokichi smirked, plucking your fingers off of the sill one by one.

“Kokichi!” You shouted, your throat sore from all the yelling.

Only your middle and index finger hung on the window, trying not to fall.

“You little sh-” Before you could curse him out, your fingers fell off of the sill. You fell, closing your eyes, honestly just wanting death at this point.

...

But did you really think Kokichi would let his beloved (S/O) die?

Your eyes groggily opened. You were on the ground, feeling grass in between your fingers and toes. A sharp pain went through your body. You hissed, the pain unbearable.

You grasped onto the grass next to you, tears pricking your eyes. With your quivering lip, you muttered to yourself, “Why can’t I just die..?”

Sighing at your horrid form, Kokichi loomed over you, his hands behind his back.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re mine, y’know? So of course I wouldn’t let you go!” Kokichi smiled, his eyes staring at your bruised arms and legs. “Ohh...that looks pretty bad. That’s why I brought this to fix it!” Kokichi pulled out some bandages from behind his back. You expected it to be a weapon, but it wasn’t.

“Kokichi...” You sobbed, letting it all out. Kokichi had a wry smile of amusement on his face.

“Don’t cry, (S/O), it’ll be okay. I know it hurts, but it should fix in a few weeks or so! I don’t really know ‘cause I’m not a doctor.” Kokichi crouched down next to your legs, his hand hovering over it. “Hmm, maybe...”

Kokichi squeezed onto your leg, and you screamed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that~!” Kokichi laughed.

Humming, Kokichi wrapped the bandages around your legs as delicately as possible.

Cursing him out in your mind, you bit onto your quivering lip, trying to silence your cries.

“There, we’re done!” Kokichi clapped his hands, proud of himself. He put bandages all around your legs without you trying to struggle! He felt like you were actually opening up to him!

For the rest of the day, you stayed in the basement. Kokichi brought you ice cream and all the things you would need until you felt better. Of course, he’d lecture you about trying to leave him again, guilt tripping you with fake tears.

Yeah, your legs hurt like hell, but at least the ice cream was making it a bit better.

#danganronpa #yandere danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #byakuya togami #nagito komaeda #kokichi ouma #antagonists #yandere headcanons #yandere reactions #yandere byakuya #yandere nagito #yandere kokichi #danganronpa antagonists #trigger warning

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void-687 · 3 years

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Abuse isn't always what's shown

Abuse Abuse, Abusive, Abuser; these words have become buzzwords on the modern internet. Why? Why have people put such an extreme definition to the words? Most media portrays abuse as physical violence, yelling, screaming, locking someone in a room, drugging them, starving them, etc. The problem with this is that not all abuse is so blatant. Sometimes abuse is so subtle that even the victim doesn't realize it's abuse. Sometimes they could describe the situation to someone else, and they wouldn't pick up on it either.

Not all abuse is loud Abuse can be silent. A simple phrase, a gesture, a look. Outside of context it can seem like so little. But it could be the last time they said that, they yelled at you for spilling water, or the last time they had that look they hit you. Silent threats that just build anxiety, that aren't even conventional "threats"

Not all abuse is physical Some abuse isn't physical in any way. Psychological abuse is powerful, and can be devastating for the victim. Psychological abuse involves gaslighting, demeaning, yelling, unnecessary punishment, comparing you to people, setting high standards, etc. "But they want you to do well in school!" "They just care about your well being" "They're worried about your health." "They don't want you to lose job opportunities over some diagnoses."

Abuse can come with "I love you" Emotional abuse. Emotional abuse is very common for family, and parents manipulating their children, or relatives. Abusers can be nice to their victims, give them gifts, give compliments, or hug them. But they often come back to use the 'gift' as leverage. "I've given you so much" "Be grateful for all I've done for you." "You're lucky I let you dress the way you want." To those anti social they might say, "We never see you! You should come out of your room more" only to be met with, "Look who's finally arrived!" "It's about time you left your cave" "Why don't you come out in the light every once in a while" "We never see you anymore" These are all phrases used for guilt-tripping. They make the victim feel bad, even if their reason for being "locked up all day" is important, such as school, working from home, or even just taking time to themselves. When parents say, "But I've given you clothes, food, shelter, made sure you can go to school, given you a phone!" "You owe me for everything I've done for you." they're just trying to put a price on your basic needs. These things are simply what it means to have a child. You don't owe your parents anything. They chose to have a child. They chose to give you that special something. You don't owe them for basic necessities, or gifts. "But they're your family" Just, no. Family is who you choose, who you truly love and care about, not those you are bound to by blood. Even adoptive parents can be your 'parents', but not your family. You don't owe your birth givers anything for them deciding to have sex. You also don't owe great aunt Betsy, who's father fought so nobly in a war anything because she sees you every few months on holidays.

Abuse can be, "But I need you" Abusive relationships aren't always romantic. Romantic, sexual, or platonic relationships can be abusive. Friends can be abusive by making you their emotional dumping ground. They rant to you for hours about this guy at work who pissed them off, but as soon as you try and mention how your day went, they get mad at you for making it all about you and changing the subject. Abuse can be that whenever you say they upset you, they lash out and call themselves terrible, a piece of shit human, and "stop pretending you care". You try and help them, and you stay because, "They said they're trying to get better." "They didn't mean to hurt me, they're just depressed" "It's because of their illness, they can't control it" As someone who is clinically depressed, has multiple anxiety disorders, and can be socially inept, I can still apologize. Just because you are ill that doesn't mean you lack critical thinking skills. They either know it's not right, or they think they're entitled to treat you that way. Either way, it is never your fault for being victimized. Something someone told me once stuck with me, "It's not that you attract bad people, it's that bad people try and go for everyone, but your door was open." That isn't to say you invited them to abuse you. Nor is it to say it's your fault. You were vulnerable, and they preyed on that vulnerability. It's like how a robber will try every door on a neighborhood street, but the one that was unlocked gets broken into. It's not that person's fault they got robbed, and it's not the victim's fault they were abused.

Abuse can be, "You deserved it." Physical abuse. Spanking a child as punishment, taking away their favorite toy, locking them in their room, or unnecessarily forcing them out of their schedule. Enforcing a strict time to go to sleep. Even if you're being quiet, reading a book, drawing, playing a game, you did nothing to disturb your parents at all, but suddenly they're stomping down the hall to yell at you "for being awake at this hour". Having a strict time to go to bed and wake up regardless of your circumstances is just a way for them to exert control, and have some kind of power to hold over you.

Abuse can be, "Crying doesn't help." Encouraging and glorifying emotional suppression. A child with anxiety will be told to "get over it" or "calm down". Someone who was injured is told, "crying won't make the pain stop" "Stop crying" "Be quiet already" "It wasn't that bad, quit being a baby" Abusers often take advantage of people with mental disorders like anxiety and depression. Parents might tell a depressed child, "If only you would try harder" "I know you can do better than a C" "Stop being lazy" "You can't use your depression as an excuse" "Quit being a couch potato and do your work" Parents might tell a child with anxiety or ADHD, "Just do your work, it's not that hard." "Stop procrastinating" "Just turn in your work" "Stop fidgeting" "You don't need to do [X] thing every day" General emotional neglect, and ignoring your mental well being, instead prioritizing school, and grades above all else.

Abuse can be, "You need me" Emotional manipulation, telling the victim that they need the abusive person to be successful, or live comfortably, etc. Sometimes this involves making the victim reliant on the abuser in some way. It could be by restricting their money, removing their support system, isolating them from their family and friends, and leaving them nowhere to go.

Abuse isn't pretty, and it isn't all one thing. This list doesn't come close to covering everything. I guess in summary, please listen to people who are victims of abuse. If someone thinks they're being abused, listen to them. If you think you're being treated unfairly, reach out to someone.

I hope you are all doing well, and please take care of yourselves out there.

#abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention tw #emotional abuse #physical abuse #gaslighting #emotional manipulation #child abuse #physical abuse tw #gaslighting tw #child abuse tw #emotional manipulation tw #I might write a part two for this post idk

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fourrarri · 3 years

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L A N C E ‘ S P S Y C H O P A T H Y

Okay, so i keep talking about Lance being a psychopath as if it’s meant as a joke but it’s not and i wanna elaborate so hear me out :]

first of all, him being a psychopath does NOT necessarily mean he’s a violent or crazy person. being a psychopath means Lance has an EXTREME LACK OF EMPATHY, which is one of the main characteristics of psychopathy. that doesn’t mean that he can’t feel bad for something at all, and he is able to love people the way every other human does... in his own way. but still, most of the time when there’s a situation the brain is supposed to react with empathy, he doesn’t feel anything. when people tell him about his behavior and express that they’re hurt by it, maybe because he said something that opened an old wound, Lance doesn’t reconsider his behavior. His mind simply lacks the ability to empathize with the person, to feel what they’re feeling. it’s nothing he does on purpose, it’s just not there. he can’t put himself in someone else’s shoes in this case.

Lance’s psychopathy also causes him to be a very manipulative person. no matter if it’s strangers, friends or significant others, Lance does put his own needs first whenever he can. which means, if there are things he wants to go HIS WAY he will make it go his way. Gaslighting people is something he handles without a problem. he’s good at reading people and finding out what to say to reach his goals.

now, considering him in a RELATIONSHIP with someone he loves.

relationships with him are always toxic. keep in mind, he is not trying to ruin his partners life and doesn’t wanna make them go through a living hell just for his own entertainment. when he loves, he actually loves. still, everything can look nice and loving at the beginning. especially at the start of dating each other the relationship seems healthy enough to give it a chance. only after time passes and things start to become daily routines his partner might notice the toxic side of all of it. Lance is getting JEALOUS easily and it makes him quite possessive. it does get to a point where he doesn’t like when his partner wants to go out with other people or spend time with someone else or be alone. whenever this happens, manipulation isn’t far away. whether it’s guilt tripping his partner or lying to them about things, he will find a way to have the person for himself only.

Will he get violent in a relationship ? there’s a high chance. he’s impulsive and doesn’t consider consequences. he is prone to throwing things for example. so let’s say an argument in the kitchen can easily end in him throwing a knife at his partner while being fully aware of it. an automatic reaction would be for his partner to leave him but being this far in a relationship with him, it’s not gonna be easy to just break up and walk away. manipulation, guilt tripping and gaslighting will make sure of it.

where does his psychopathy come from ?

there is no simple answer to what turns a person into a psychopath. it can have a lot of reasons, some�� people say it’s caused by upbringing and others say it’s genetics. but also a combination of both can contribute to becoming a psychopath. and in Lance’s case i think it is, while genetics play a small role in it. lack of parental bonding is the main factor for Lance’s psychopathy. the first thing he learned in his early few years on earth was neglect. his parents weren’t interested in giving him the feeling of comfort and safety, but they had enough money to at least make his life feel somewhat nice. his mother crying about her miserable life only left him confused, he was never able to feel bad for her. whenever he was in need of comfort and warmth, she was out of reach for him. that’s the way things were handled.

psychopathy doesn’t immediately make a person bad, --- but it’s a personality disorder and contributes to anti-social behavior. Lance does get his kicks out of hurting people and making them dislike him. you won’t get an apology from him, no matter how hurt you are. but psychopaths are hard to cut out of people’s live. growing up without a parental bond is traumatic, the relationship to his canadian side of the family was more abusive than loving. Lance is aware that he can use his troubled past and trauma to gain other people’s empathy, which causes them to feel bad for him and NOT leave him just like that.

so yeah, after all he is a bad person with the lack of empathy. being in a relationship with him is a hell on earth the longer it lasts. leaving him isn’t easy. but he’s not constantly revolving his life around it. it can be easy and enjoyable with him, Lance still knows how to use his charm after all.

#💸 ║ ❛ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ꜱᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʟᴠᴇꜱ ( headcanon. )#long post #i did a lot of research for it so yeah #you don't have to read it all if it doesn't interest u it's okay i know it's a lot :')#but it's safe to say i'm happy with it and i feel bad for all my rp partners hah

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newhologram · 3 years

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I know only a few of you are on IG so I wanted to give an update here on the past few days. I am doing this knowing the potential risk but I need to also record where I'm at right now in case anything weird happens.

My week has been like this so far. Sunday: Family Member 1 misplaced their Xbox controller. They kept asking me if I knew where it was, each time growing more and more aggressive. I don't have an Xbox, I reminded them. I have my own controller for my PC. But they kept knocking loudly on my door. They followed me outside where I was vaping and tried to accuse me of I don't even know what. Pawning off their controller? FM1 said, "Is there something going on that you're not telling me? SOMEONE'S messing with me!" Later that night they and their gf were making dinner. FM1 suddenly knocked harshly on my door and said aggressively, "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE OVEN MITTS" in an angry voice. I was already stressed from them harassing me earlier about the controller. I came out of my room, heart racing, and told them I had not used them that day. I helped find the mitts, which had fallen behind the trash can because the hanging hook had broken. I went to bed on edge, feeling unsafe and targeted, wondering why my family member was suddenly acting so paranoid and accusing me of misplacing their things... Something they actually have done to me my whole life, denying it until the moment my item is found, when they suddenly remember they did move it there (or accidentally throw it out/destroy it). The controller ended up being some random place in the living room. Monday: I went to leave for my acupuncture appointment. My booster seat/pillow thing was missing from my car. Not in the trunk or anything. I cannot drive without it. I'm too short to see over the steering wheel. I called FM1 and they have no idea where it could be, despite the fact that they drive my car every day. FM1's gf helped find it, in the garage. But I still had an epic fucking meltdown, sobbing the whole way to and from my appointment. I just cannot handle people moving my shit and disrupting my schedule like that. And it just hurt so much more knowing that FM1 was so awful to me the day before about their stuff being misplaced. I'm always having my personal belongings, my feelings, my personhood, disrespected. It hurts deeply. When I got home I stressed to them that this is my car, and my accommodation should not ever be removed from it under any circumstances. It was after this that I decided it was time to hold a family meeting. I called Family Member 2 and 3 over to the house. I read a long letter to them in which I told them about the talks I have had with my therapist, psychiatrist, and another psychologist. Even though I cannot be formally assessed and diagnosed at this time, I am being treated for autism. I detailed to my family my entire life of trauma that is traced back directly to my autistic traits, and my needs not only not being met, but being outright denied. I was denied empathy most of my life for my sensory issues, my pain, everything. A big part of this is gaslighting. Even if it's unintentional or not malicious, gaslighting is incredibly traumatic. Especially when it comes to my sensory issues. I have had even more problems with overstimulation the past year which means I can barely sleep, so my daily naps are even more important. I try to coordinate my naps when there is less activity in my house. But if I'm in a ton of pain and extra sensitive and ask for quiet, that's when I get in trouble and a fight happens. That's when FM1 tells me I "need to be realistic" and "can't expect the whole world to shut up for you"... when I'm literally saying "I have a migraine and need to rest, can you please not play loud music or slam cupboards in the kitchen for a few hours?"

I was emotionally neglected and abused by both parents. A lot of it is just the result of their own trauma that they have not dealt with... But I have also been physically threatened and assaulted by them at different times, though it only happened those specific times. (They won't ever admit to it though.) The emotional and mental abuse still goes on in my home. I am not allowed to have emotions. I have been told "STOP. WHY ARE YOU CRYING. LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WHEN YOU GET OUT IN THE REAL WORLD YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT" over and over--like... in response to me crying about my pet dying, or in response to me crying bc I'm in horrible pain from my chronic illnesses, or crying after my usual yearly ER visit. I am also not allowed to have boundaries. I have tried to communicate with FM1 that these things hurt me deeply. And their response is basically, "YOU'RE SO UNGRATEFUL. I PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!" and threats such as "BETWEEN TAKING CARE OF YOU AND GRANMDA, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO DRIVE OFF AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" or "I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD KILL MYSELF BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU"-- y'know, in response to having a disabled child. Ouch. The message is clear: I am nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to my family. I still have nightmares about them abandoning me, or abusing me more. I think in their heads they think that they love me. But this isn't love. If I try to talk to them about how dangerous it is for them to say things like that to me, they say "I never said/did that." Which brings us back to the gaslighting: I said that every time they gaslight me and tell me that my emotions/thoughts/experiences aren't real, it triggers me so badly that I self-harm and become suicidal.

I was very clear with them: I said that I can no longer have that in my life because one day it will kill me. I don't wanna die that way. I want to live. I have very bad PTSD and it's something I have worked on for 8 years but it has been worse the past year with so many disruptions and FM1's worsening narcissistic traits. I gave the choice to them. I said if they gaslighted me again that they were making the decision to not be in my life. Because this is about preserving my life. I'm trying not to die here. I'm literally trying to save my own life, even if that means not having a relationship with my family. They accept that I am autistic... But they then took turns gaslighting me. When I pointed out, "that's gaslighting. that's exactly what I just said in my letter. What you're doing is gaslighting" they went even harder on it. They said my experience and my trauma is "not in line with reality". They also said I "need to be reasonable" with the boundary that I'm setting (meaning: they don't believe in boundaries at all). They tried to guilt trip me with, "you can't cut someone out of your life because what if they DIE and then you FEEL GUILTY??" (I mean, what if I killed myself because you keep hurting me? Wouldn't you feel guilty about that?) They also guilt tripped me with "well we TRY to invite you to family stuff, and we try to include you, but you never want to go..." um... I guess they forgot I am chronically ill? Sorry if I don't have the energy or pain tolerance to drive an hour each way to a loud family party after I've worked all week? I cried and cried, I said this is exactly what I told you that you do to me and how it endangers my life... and you're doing it... while telling me you don't do it to me... They were all weird and told me "we love you and would do anything for you!" except... I guess, not gaslight me constantly? Idk. I felt so trapped. I felt so hopeless. I was up all night crying. I wondered, "Why is the idea of me having distance from them somehow worse than me being dead? Why would they prefer that I die rather than set a boundary that will save me?" And then I remembered: I had set the terms. They broke them. You do this, you're out of my life, because me being alive is more important than us having a relationship which will eventually kill me. I'm not trapped. It doesn't matter if they think they can prevent me from setting this boundary because they can't. I'm in charge of my boundary. So I blocked them on social media, as well as their phones. I have to unfortunately keep FM1 unblocked bc I live with them, they drive my car, and they look after my cats while I am at work. If I didn't have so many great things happening behind the scenes, if I didn't have my cats, if I didn't have amazing friends and followers who are supportive and kind... I can definitely see that I would have ended my life that night in some alternate timeline. That is how much pain I was in from them doing that to me. Them literally trying to gaslight me into not setting a boundary. I mean it would've been so ridiculous on their part, can you imagine? Me: Hey family, when you gaslight me, it makes me suicidal. I don't want to die, so either you stop doing that, or we can't have a relationship. Family: UHH NO *gaslights me anyway* Me: ok *kills self* Family: *surprised Pikachu face* Like???? Would they really have been shocked because it seems like they should have known since I told them directly? And that just shows that they really don't take my pain seriously at all. They think I'm overly sensitive and that my trauma is not real. That would have been a painful wake up call for them. I told my therapist all of this. And she agrees that this is good, this is going to not only ween them off of me but also allow me to focus on all the good stuff I have going on. I have to get moving. So much stuff has been lagging because I'm constantly recovering from them triggering me. I'm going to focus, and heal, and gtfo of here. Thank you for your support and for never invalidating my pain.

#teku #personal #d o nut #reba gel #!#donut rebagel plz

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maldito-arbol · 3 years

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It is occurring to me that the events of my life over the last 2-3 months are very much blurred together in an amalgamation of trauma and dissociation and depression and I can hardly remember me at all. Hey. Sorry. I probably need therapy.

My current update on life is: still living with a friend. It seems as though my parents are content in having abandoned me and harbor no desire to apologize nor to take me back. It’s hard to accept but by no means am I surprised, I’m simply tired. I have to rebuild my own self and my own life here, where I stand now. Rebuilding is hard, but I have to keep trying. It’s the only way I can keep myself from falling off the deep end.

In regards to work, yes I did end up quitting my job. I put in my two weeks and I served them despite them many many times tempting me to just leave and never look back—no, I stuck it out, and I earned my due pay. I thought work was hard before, but it suddenly became hell on earth once I made it known I wasn’t going to let them push me around any longer. I am still trying to understand that I deserve better, am still trying to comprehend that I CAN get better…it’s a lot. I thought if I wasn’t suffering then I wasn’t worth anything at all. And that’s just the way I was raised, the way I’ve been treated all my life from school to work to home. It took me a very long time to realize the people I was around were toxic, and when I did, I felt so sick I could almost die.

Guys, I don’t know how quite to express the way I felt and the way I feel, but I thought I should maybe give you some more insight to my life in a formal post rather than just disjointed pieces in the tags of my posts. So the long story short (though unfortunately still too long) is, I was trapped in an abusive home that eventually imploded and resulted in my eviction by my very petulant mother over a barely qualified for conversation conversation about politics. Because she couldn’t stand the fact that I didn’t want to listen to her. I’d hate to imagine how she’d react if I told her I was gay, or genderfluid of all things if she reacted this way over the fact that I lean left politically. Isn’t that incredible? After all the horrible things she’s put me through, physically, mentally, emotionally, she sees fit to kick me out because I snarled “I don’t care” when she attempted to sway me. It’s funny actually. I spent so many nights crying over something so pathetic. Maybe it’s because she’s my mother and her actions directly imply that I am a child unwanted by the one who birthed them, a child who was never truly loved or cared about in the way children dream of. That undying, uncompromising, unconditional love every human being desires. And in a perfect world it should be guaranteed by a mother, but it’s not. How cruel is it that I feel more loved by my friends’ parents than I do by my own? You know no matter what, they’ll never be my birth parents. There will always be that missing hole in my heart no matter how much I tell myself this is enough. Because I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved. And yet I crave it so much. So much that I was willing to be abused, to be put down, to be the punching bag to a miserable, uncaring woman who didn’t know the first thing about love. Even now sometimes I wonder how she’s doing without me. Does she worry? Does she feel regret? Guilt? Anything? Or does she simply go about her day thinking, “it’s no big deal, I have two more children I can ream in your stead.” As for my dad, I may hold off on getting into that whole rabbit hole, because I feel like I shouldn’t even bother giving him the time of day if he barely will even give me that. He is very very very tiring, and I fear I spent too long desiring a relationship that will simply never blossom.

I thought work was my escape. I thought that repetitive tasks would help distract me from my problems, would provide me something to live for, cause gods know I couldn’t come up with a creative reason myself. And yet, in a way, being mentally shattered once again by my mother once again taught me a little lesson about the other people in my life: if they act like my mother, they’re doing something wrong. And my boss, while different in many ways, shared a core of manipulation mastery that really should’ve bothered me from the start. And because I had been kicked out, because I’d moved in with people who genuinely cared about me, all of the sudden I saw how horribly mistreated I was at work. It was easier to write it off before, when I was treated worse at home so work felt like Heaven. But it wasn’t. It never was. How many times I fooled myself into believing it was. It’s interesting how being loved and cared about can show you just how poorly you’ve had it everywhere else. So when my sister quit because of another explosion of verbal abuse from my boss, I decided that was my final sign to throw in the towel. While she simply walked off the job, I allowed my boss to keep me for two more weeks; just to be polite, just to be professional, and I may have just shot myself in the foot in doing so. It’s quite a show manipulators will put on when they realize they’re about to lose you. When holding power and the high ground over you has been torn down, ripped away from them, you see truly the desperation, the lengths they will go to restore order and control over you. I was emotionally manipulated, gaslighted, bribed even in my final days. She had power over me almost to the bitter end, because I so nearly gave up and gave in so many times. I was emotionally broken, and I still am, but what frightened me so then was that she knew my weaknesses and she knew how to exploit them. She understood I was alone and scared and still picking up the pieces in my own life, and with that understanding came not compassion but the determination to squash me underneath her thumb. I needed a whole army of healthy people in my life to beg me not to rescind my decision, to prod and poke at me to follow through with my exit in order to ensure I made it out safely, though clearly not unscathed.

Of course I’m going to continue carrying the trauma from this, but I won’t allow it to be special. I’m going to dump it carelessly into a duffel bag stuffed with every unkind word and every bruise and hit from my mother, with every humiliation and heartbreak dealt by my teachers, with every fucking dumbshit rumor and practiced bullying technique from my peers at a whole variety of different schools and clubs and camps, with every user and moocher from friend groups past, and anything and everything that has left its lovely scar be it on my skin or in my mind. You struck me hard enough to remain for the lifelong flight? Cool. You’ll find your seat in the back with all the snot-nosed children and disappointed mothers and not a good enough view to provide entertainment for the whole trip. Eat some far too salty crackers and wonder what your life has come to. I hope you enjoy.

#mal rants #sorry about that I just wanted to vent in as linguistically articulate as I possibly could #was it entertaining?#hehe #no but seriously if you actually read it thank you so much you’re so cool

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brave-clarice · 3 years

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“Clarice” Liveblog: Episodes 5 & 6

Since these are extraordinarily late, I tried to keep them more concise/focused than before. I’m sorry for how long it’s taken me to (almost) catch up. And to the handful of you who’ve enjoyed these and encouraged me to do them: thank you!

Episode 5, “Get Right With God”

the music at the beginning of this episode might just be in the maintenance guy’s headphones(!) but it was still a…Choice.

there’s something so tragic about watching Clarice be unable to use her legs… :’(

this whole scenario feels like a twisted parallel universe version of the end of Hannibal.

glad to see Ardelia finally has her priorities straight and is going to fight for her best friend! let’s forget her Episode 4 subplot ever happened.

good: the warrior finding a weapon even in the direst of circumstances!

bad: those damn moths are back. at least this time they might be drug-induced.

“she worked Bill alone” no, she didn’t. not really. (Hannibal: I’m right here.)

stop trying to make Likable Paul happen, it’s never going to happen!!!

I HATE the “Reesey” nickname, y’all. HATE. IT.

plus, we know that her dad called her “Baby”?

her father’s appearance doubles down on the end-of-Hannibal vibes...Not Sure If Want.

wow, Clarice is being literally tortured? thanks, I hate it!!!

really doubt that Clarice’s Pinto used to belong to her father (who drives a truck in the books??)... weird flex.

and how would she even have gotten it? her mother would either have driven that car into the ground out of necessity or else have sold it for the money the Starlings needed so desperately.

Pintos also weren’t super high-quality cars and were definitely not built to last ~20 years.

Clarice already being able to chat with her father whenever she needs to really undermines the therapy Hannibal will eventually give her, but…I guess they’ve already accepted they’ll never make it that far?

“you’re trying to get in my head” yeah, and she’s doing it, too–’cause she learned from the best!

“you get an answer, I get an answer, Felker.” she’s Hannibal’s girl all right.

this episode’s had flashes of brilliance before diving back into…whatever tf watching one of your favorite characters of all time being tortured is.

I really wanted Ardelia to say that no, but Clarice was like a sister to her.

it took FIVE episodes to get some lamb imagery, but we’ve been looking at moths for the entire season?!

oof, Clarice voicing her own insecurities about her childhood abandonment and using them to twist Felker’s arm...painful but smart.

HANNAH!!!

I would die 4 baby Clarice

after all that, Clarice is going to apologize to Ardelia about last week? this episode SUCKS.

Good: Clarice playing mind games with Felker like Hannibal did to her; Ardelia going to bat for her bestie, lamb flashbacks, baby Clarice, and HANNAH!

Bad: So much. Clarice being medically tortured multiple times, moth hallucinations, the several-years-premature (imo) Daddy-as-Guardian-Angel plot device, “Reesey”...did I mention Clarice getting repeatedly tortured?!

Ugly: Krendler backstory + making out with his wife. Ew.

Wow, this episode was a hot mess, and I kind of hated it. I loved Clarice’s really Hannibalesque approach to Felker, and I’m so thrilled that Hannah got mentioned at all (tho...did they need to be so heavy-handed with the helmet and gun and everything?) Also nice to see Ardelia behaving much more in-character. That said, it was sickening and imo totally unnecessary to further traumatize Clarice the way they did. To make her almost helpless.

Clarice, and by extension Rebecca Breeds (who is fantastic and deserves better), has been given very little range so far. She’s frequently been shown as miserable, afraid, desperate, traumatized, angry, resentful, but I also want to see her joyful, laughing, silly, relaxed...something else that will give her depth. Her life wasn’t miserable 24/7, 365. It was just unfulfilling. We got glimpses of this in the first two episodes. PLEASE bring it back!

And rn I’m questioning how Clarice’s career can possibly drag on for another six years after this. Her apparent PTSD is already interfering with her job performance as it is--this experience is only going to make it worse. Her “body count” in Hannibal was around five, iirc, and that was enough to slap her with the “Death Angel” moniker. In the show at least four people have died in close proximity to Clarice in the space of like...a week. How does she come back from that, even as the savior of Catherine Martin? It’s a PR nightmare for obth Clarice and the FBI.

They’ve also sort of forgotten that the Martins existed while continuing to flesh out Krendler’s (?!) character? It’s weird.

I almost don’t even want to watch Episode 6 after that. But here goes...

Episode 6, “How Does It Feel to Be So Beautiful?”

the freaking MOTHS again, I hate them!

frankly, yeah, Clarice should be on leave.

Clarice’s nondescript monochrome suits and constant ponytail are just so boring. in the book she’s described as never having to put effort into making her hair look good--so why is it always pulled back in this show?

I’m not sure it’s very in-character for Clarice, at this point in her career, to go over her boss’s head to get out of admin leave (one she really needs to take tbh) even for the sake of solving a case

lol what the actual hell @ AG Martin guilt-tripping Clarice, who was very recently tortured and almost died, for not calling Catherine back? Clarice is not Catherine’s therapist!

THIS is what my Vogue-reading heroine with burgeoning great taste wears for a night out? so disappointing.

never in my life did I think I’d be sitting through Krendler’s personal drama in a show ABOUT CLARICE STARLING.

her costume sucks and her hairstyle’s from years in the future, but dang does Clarice look gorgeous.

and I love thinking of her getting a taste of the luxury she’ll enjoy with Hannibal. :)

you know what? I think I was actually fine with them forgetting that the Martins were in this show.

whyyy is Krendler being made so sympathetic?!

now Catherine Martin “loved to sew” just like Frederica Bimmel? hmm. (tbf, maybe this is in the novel, and I’ve just forgotten.)

her gift for Clarice is sweet, though.

so beautiful, indeed

Christ on a cracker, that confrontation between the Martins was painful to watch (not a criticism). this show’s AG and her daughter are very much two of a kind in terms of emotional manipulation.

I stan one (1) doofus

now either Catherine’s gaslighting Clarice...or Clarice’s trauma (over BILL! again with this!) is so pervasive that it’s twisted her memories. either way, I hate it.

so Krendler’s lawyer is dirty and that’s why he’ll (probably) turn against Clarice? but WHY? why can’t Krendler just suck?

Good: Clarice looking gorgeous, Ardelia continuing to fight for Clarice, female characters in positions of authority everywhere

Bad: Clarice’s underwhelming costumes, Clarice’s primary/worst trauma apparently STILL being Buffalo Bill & having Clarice break down crying again (and NOT over what happened last week, which would tbh make a lot more sense).

Sad: Shaan’s backstory about his wife, everything involving Catherine

Ugly: Krendler subplot. Ugh.

I just don’t know how I feel about this installment. Wish I cared more about the overarching conspiracy plot, but I’m really only here for Clarice and Ardelia. And while no show can stand on the shoulders of a single character, for a show about Clarice, there seems to be quite a bit of screentime devoted to her bosses, Martin and Krendler, and even to her team members. And all without Clarice herself getting much character development. They don’t seem to be exploring much of her character other than her traumatic backstories, and I’m no longer very hopeful that she’ll be much more fleshed out in the last four episodes, either. It’s a bummer. I really think Rebecca could shine like Jodie did if she were given a chance.

Most of the scenes with the Martins were visceral and felt so real that it was hard to watch. That said...the AG Martin/Catherine content all strikes me as being somewhat detached from the rest of the show, as if the writers are making it up as they go along with no real end goal in mind.

Man...these two were rough going. Very little humor or warmth and absolutely no joy. Of course the source material is dark, so a somewhat dark crime drama is to be expected, but I really think the show needs a slightly less intense, bleak and (dare I say it?) unpleasant episode. But they writers have really dug themselves into a hole by zeroing in on Clarice’s PTSD. And unlike in Hannibal, there’s no love interest with whom she (and by extension, the audience) can flee her misery and pain.

I'm cautiously optimistic about the rest of the season. A lot of the ingredients are there, and despite my many criticisms, it’s been great to spend time with a character I love. Fingers crossed that they finish strong!

#Clarice Starling #cbs clarice #clarice #rebecca breeds #spoiler warning #bc I know a few of you haven't quite caught up either #long post for ts #media [cbs show]#actor [rebecca breeds]#char [clarice starling]#char [the night watchman]#char [paul krendler]#char [ardelia mapp]

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honey-harper-official · 4 years

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Lies

In Supernova Adrian said they were going to have a talk about lying but we never got the talk in the book so I’m writing it. Takes place a few months after the Supernova once everything has calmed down a bit.

Angst and fluff and discussing Honey and the Anarchists over sexualizing Nova for the Gala like what the fuck was that? Also slight trigger warning for abuse because all the gaslighting Nova went under is discussed but not in depth.

Anyways as always please reblog.

Word Count: 2979

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The supernova at the cathedral had happened three months ago. Now things had settled down, the ground work for new plans in Gatlon in the works and Nova having her own apartment.

It was good for her to have her own space. Adrian knew that even though she had been manipulated into most of what happened, she still felt tirelessly guilty for it all and didn't like overstaying her welcome anywhere. Like his own house.

His dads loved Nova, despite everything, but Nova just felt awkward about it all. He hoped their relationship would be improved over time. Her relationship with Danna, Ruby, and Oscar certainly had improved and he could only hope things fully healed.

But now that things were getting better, Adrian figured it was a good time to finally have the talk about lying with Nova. They both agreed that it was needed but everything had been so hectic and stressful that it got put aside.

The two of them were sitting in Nova's apartment, the movie they were watching having just finished.

He reached out and slipped his hand in hers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Hey Nova," He said.

"Hmm?"

She tilted her head up at him, her hazel eyes meeting his. Originally they had been blue when he met her, but the more she healed and began to sleep, they had been turning brown. He had asked her about it before and she explained that she had in fact been born with brown eyes but they changed to blow when she stopped sleeping and lived in the tunnels, to adjust better to all the dark. He hated that for most of her life she lived in the dark, surrounded by villains but somehow alone.

"I think we should have that talk about lying," Adrian suggested, almost holding his breath. They were having a nice night together and while now was their chance, he wasn't sure if it was the perfect moment. But it was now or never.

Nova looked a little surprised by the statement but she didn't seem upset. "Okay. Where do you want to start?"

She pulled away from him. At first she had been curled up beside him but she slid down the couch to properly face him, her hand still in his. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I know that you couldn't exactly tell me the truth and obviously you aren't lying to me anymore but... you still lied and told me dozens of half-truths like it was nothing."

Nova sighed. "It wasn't nothing. At first it was no big deal. Then as I got to know you and the others more I hated it. I hated it so much and I hated that you lied to me too. I hated that yes I lied to you but you lied to me just as much and acted like your own secrets didn't hurt me as much as mine hurt you. I know that you never tried to kill someone and were doing what you thought was right but it's not like I wasn't doing what I thought was right either."

Her words stung. But it was the truth. He knew she hated the Sentinel just as much as he hated Nightmare and while he had every right to be upset about her being Nightmare, it wasn't like he was any better. Both of them went after the other's family, at least if you were counting the Anarchists as Nova's family. And both of them had gone against the council with secret identities and lying to each other.

But still, he couldn't fathom how she ever thought she was doing something right. He understood that being raised by Anarchists would make her want to get rid of the government. Yet he couldn't understand how she thought it would be good for everyone when society was improving, thriving. She obviously had been wronged by the Renegades, there was no doubt about it.

Adrian's mother may have died on the way to help, but Nova had told him that she had waited hours alone with no help. That and they had stopped looking for her when she very obviously had been taken by Ace. They had every chance to find her but didn't.

"I know the Anarchists raised you and obviously you had the right to be upset with the Renegades but how could you think that what you were doing was right?" Adrian asked.

"Because I didn't know any better. I had no access to outside resources to tell me anything different and they knew that. They kept me from learning and it's not like I could leave them. I mean even if I did escape what would happen to me then? Do you think anyone would care to adopt Ace Anarchy's niece let alone help me? Do you think if I had been outright about it with the Renegades and looking for help do you think anyone would have trusted me?"

Nova was making a valid point. She didn't have the option to leave and if she had come to the Renegades for help, Adrian didn't think he'd trust her either. He didn't think anyone would. Maybe they'd try, but being raised by Anarchists and being Ace Anarchy's niece was suspicious to anyone, even if it wasn't her fault.

Nova took a deep breath. "Then as time went on and I got to know you, I started questioning everything. I didn't know how you could be so sweet and kind and amazing and somehow be a Renegade. I didn't get how everyone wasn't terrible."

"What evidence did you have that we were terrible?" Adrian asked, a little irked. If people loved the Renegades so much then how could she not have known that they were at least doing some good in the world? She had been at the parade and saw how people cheered. Of course there were people who still hated prodigies but that had nothing to do with the Renegades.

"Because I dealt with people like Genissa my whole life. When the treaty was made the Renegades left us with no resources whatsoever. No food or water or electricity. We lived in abandoned subway tunnels. And then whenever they sent a team to us for a check in, they'd destroy everything. The Anarchists told me to hide when I was little because they'd take me away. They said that they might have hurt me and with the way they treated us like we were sub-human I wouldn't deny it."

Adrian winced. He had remembered when he stopped Genissa and her team from tormenting the Anarchists for no reason. He remembered how they would purposely lure people into becoming hostile and violent so they could arrest them and make heroes out of themselves. He remembered how they killed Hawthorne for robbery and blamed it on him, knowing fully that what they were doing was wrong.

Not all the Renegades were cut from the same cloth and had good intentions, Adrian knew that. Yet he had never realized how deep it ran with Nova. Maybe a lot of Renegades wouldn't kill Hawthorne for robbery, but that didn't mean that the Renegades didn't hate the Anarchists and wouldn't do everything they could to prevent them from doing anything as simple as living.

Adrian had always thought that the trauma from her childhood and anything bad that happened to her as a kid, came only from the Anarchists. It seemed so obvious to him. With the fight at the cathedral, he could see how they guilt tripped and manipulated her into things.

And with all the Renegades had done to Nova, all that she was bringing to light, he was beginning to understand more how she could have been so blind to them using her and all the gaslighting she must have gone through.

Nova continued. "And somehow, despite all of that, you and the team were so different. No one was what I was told they were supposed to be like but Genissa and her team. I mean I was on the field actually helping people which was the opposite of what I was taught and experienced. So the longer things went on, the more it hurt to lie to you and I wanted to stop but if I told you the truth I'd never see you again and I didn't want that to happen. I swear I tried to convince the Anarchists out of everything the longer things went on. They went against every plan and suggestion I made. At first it was just Ingrid and knowing Ingrid I thought that it was just her, it wouldn't matter. Then by the end..... it was all of them."

"Like Honey."

She winced. "Yeah. Like Honey."

Nova never liked to talk about it all that much. I mean, she was like a mother figure for her and she had turned on Nova quickly once she realized that Nova wasn't so sure of their plans anymore.

"It's not like I shouldn't have seen her turning on me coming. I mean there were things that just made it seem so obvious the more I think about it but it wasn't like I wanted to believe that they would turn on me," Nova said, shivering a little and beginning to cry.

He hated how she looked so scared and nervous when she said it. Adrian knew she'd be hesitant to tell him, but he had to know what they did to her.

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. "But I was just so stupid about it."

Adrian moved towards her, pulling her closer. "You're not stupid. I'm sure anyone in your situation wouldn't have believed that they would harm you."

Nova let out a weird laugh. "Oh no I genuinely mean it was as clear as day. I mean, when I said that I was going to the gala with you Honey immediately sought to sexualize me and make me look seductive or whatever even though I explicitly told her not to give me some dress that would do that and she insisted otherwise and no one cared even though they were all fully aware of how much I hated it. I mean if a group of adults was trying to make a 16 year old girl seductive with no problems to get a stupid fucking helmet then I should have known that I was just their pawn and didn't matter at all."

Adrian choked. It was disgusting regardless of Nova's age but even more frightening when Adrian thought about how she wasn't even close to 18 yet. He thought about the dress she had worn to the gala and how much she hated the dress she was in. She had been uncomfortable the whole night and now it seemed like it might have been the dress that was factoring into her acting like that. She had looked absolutely stunning, drop-dead gorgeous, but she looked good in anything, even the sweatpants and t-shirt she stole from him that she was wearing at the moment.

He hated that he had liked how she looked in the dress. It wasn't like it was anything inappropriate and he had no idea that she was essentially being forced by the Anarchists to wear it. Regardless, he was disgusted that he had liked how she looked in a dress that she felt objectified in.

"Shit Nova I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't know or I wouldn't have told you that you looked good in it."

"It doesn't matter. It's not like I had any other clothing choice anyways." Nova pulled away from him. "And obviously you suspected that I was being manipulated into all of this but I didn't. Still, I was gaslighted and abused into my situation and when we were in the cathedral, once you knew for sure I was Nightmare, you figured that out on your own. But still, before that, when you arrested me originally, how did you not realize and if you did how could you not care? How could you act like you lying and being the Sentinel was any better then me be Nightmare when you chose to lie and keep secrets. No one was guilting you into that situation and still you act like you were any better."

Adrian grimaced. The entire situation, both what happened to Nova and the conversation as a whole, was uncomfortable. However, it needed to happen. It couldn't be ignored.

"I was just so upset about Max. It's not like you could have defended yourself without consequences and it's not like he could have told us because he was still unconscious. I was just so wrapped up with it that I didn't think about how you could have become Nightmare. I didn't even want to think about it I was so upset. I mean, I was upset about Max and I came to you and you comforted me and kissed me only for me to find out that, based on the information we had, it was you who had done it."

Nova cupped his face in one hand, running her thumb over his cheek. She looked like she understood and wasn't angry, but he knew that beneath it, she was probably frustrated. She absolutely adored Max and she would never hurt him. Anyone could see that but still, Adrian had been so blinded by everything that she ignored it.

"And what about becoming the Sentinel? What about all the lies around that?"

He took the hand on her face and placed it in his. "At first, I made it to prove a point but then Danna got hurt and it all backfired so I realized I couldn't say a word about it. I tried to drop it, I mean you hated it so much and it had caused more harm then good and I didn't want you to hate me for it but then, Max got hurt and it was the way I could get him help fastest. I never wanted to lie and I never wanted to lie to you."

"I don't want to lie to you either. I'm not going to lie to you again. I'm not going to keep secrets from you ever again."

Nova moved to his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. Adrian slowly rubbed her back, his other arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close.

"I'm not going to lie to you or keep secrets again too," he said, pressing a light kiss to her lips. "But that's not to say if I'm trying to surprise you I won't ignore that statement to make sure it stays a surprise."

Nova let out a light laugh. "Of course."

Then her mouth was on his again and she was filling up his thoughts. Every time he kissed her all he could ever think about was her and how beautiful she was and how incredible she was and every little thing about her. Every time he kissed her he only wanted more.

Adrian buried a hand in her hair, his heart pounding in his chest as he kissed her harder. She bit his lip in response, hands roaming the small of his back. His mouth moved down to her neck, Adrian satisfied by how she closed her eyes in bliss and was turning into putty in his arms.

"Adrian," Nova moaned. He kissed her more. "Adrian stop."

Instantly, as requested, he retreated but it sounded forced, like she couldn't bring herself too pull away.

She pointed to his armband. There was a message from his dads on it, telling him to come home.

He frowned. He certainly did not want to leave.

"You should stay the night," Nova suggested, blushing a little.

He sighed. "I'll ask but I don't know if they'll let me even though they're usually pretty relaxed about this stuff."

It was one thing for Nova to spend the night and be alone with him in his room when other people were around. It was another thing for Adrian to spend the night entirely alone with Nova in her apartment. Not to many would be too keen to let their kid spend the night completely alone with their partner though Adrian couldn't fathom Nova and him doing any more then kissing.

"I know we're not lying to each other but if they say no just fb and say that I'm already asleep and you were about to sleep before you got their message," Nova said slyly, a smug grin on her face. "Besides. You've been here for a few hours. If we were going to do something then we would have done so by now."

He grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Then go lie down in case I need proof."

She moved herself off his lap and went to her bedroom. He followed after her, texting his dads for permission to stay the night.

Adrian laid on the bed and Nova curled up against him. He wrapped an arm around her.

"I don't want you staying the night," his dad, Hugh, responded.

Adrian rolled his eyes. "I'm half asleep and Nova's been asleep for a while now and I don't want to wake her."

The next reply was from Simon. "Alright fine. Just be home before lunch."

Adrian turned off the band and put it aside. Nova looked up at him from where she was.

"So are you staying?" She asked.

He nodded and she grinned. Nova moved back to his lap, legs straddling his hips and her arms around his neck.

"Now where were we before we were interrupted?" She laughed.

Suddenly they were kissing again and it was like the world didn't matter. There were no more lies, no more problems. It was just them and no one else.

#nodrian #nightsketch #nova artino #adrian everhart #danna bell #oscar silva #ruby tucker #narcissa cronin #renegades trilogy #anarchists #renegades #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #nevada fanfiction

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