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rearranged-fanfic · 4 months

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Planned Stories for REALIGNED

Note:

So, I had a pretty interesting question pertaining to REARRANGED's sister series REALIGNED. I was asked if I could separate out the book into individual short stories instead of having them all collected under one name. If they were separate, I could tag each individually to make them easier to search for; they could be individually bookmarked for reader convenience; I could gift people stories that they've requested. With all of this in mind, I've split up the short stories into their own little booklets.

REALIGNED is now its own series, though both it and REARRANGED are in the same Collection.

Here are the current published and planned short stories for REALIGNED:

Cat-Tastrophe (Here)

Summary: Satoru comes home from Jujutsu Tech a little.. different. It's a good thing Reader-chan likes cat's, isn't it? Rating: T Warnings: None Pairing: Established Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB original Character) Additional Notes: Fluff. That's all. Final Chapter Count: 1

Godhead (Here)

Summary: What can one do when faced with the love of a god? Reader-chan is an inhabitant of a tiny, remote mountain village. When she's three, she attracts the attention of the local god, O-Satoru-sama. The rest, as they say, is history. Rating: High M, Low E Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Pairing: Slow burn Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: A hint of sexual content. Violent. Yandere Gojo in spades. Horror elements. Final Chapter Count: 2, plus maybe an epilogue someday?

Contrite (Here)

Summary: Every now and then, Satoru has to apologize for his behavior. So he does what he does best, and gets on his knees. Too bad he's a brat. Rating: E Warnings: None Pairing: Established Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Smut, smut, smut. Final Chapter Count: 1

Crimson (Here)

Summary: Sometimes, blood is the strongest of ties. When Reader-chan trades away her life for something precious, she fully expects the prince of vampires, Gojo Satoru, to kill her or drain her blood. Instead, he has her cook for him and his temperamental boyfriend. And wash their sheets. And schedule their meetings. Weird, but it sure beats dying. A Vampire Knight Fusion AU. Rating: Hight T, Low M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Established Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru, Slow Burn Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru/Reader (AFAB Orignal Character), Pre-Polyamory Additional Notes: Implied sexual content. Violent. SatoSugu fluff. Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 3, plus maybe an epilogue someday?

Knotted

Summary: Alphas are known for only one thing... Good thing Reader-chan is a Beta with no hope of ever bedding one - let alone her Sorcerer boss, who's the most intimidating Alpha of all. Alpha/Beta/Omega AU. Rating: E Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Pairing: Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: 25K hit celebration. Two different endings, depending on reader taste. Good ending or bad ending; you decide. Smut, smut, smut. Dirty, nasty smut. Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 4?

Hanahaki

Summary: A flower blooms, then withers. It's the first of Spring when Reader-chan starts coughing. Her Cursed Technique starts backfiring on her, and the results could be deadly. Rating: T Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Geto Suguru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Angst. Then fluff :P Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 2?

Absolution

Summary: The rain washes all sins clean. A nice, quiet moment in a storm. Rating: T Warnings: None Pairing: Established Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Fluff. A gift for Amurla on AO3 Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 1?

Nyctophilia

Summary: I was always afraid of the dark. Reader-chan is a Curse User, and Gojo Satoru is the man who's going to kill her. Or so it seems. Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Violent. Horror elements. Yandere Gojo. Dark Reader-chan. A gift for Citrullus on AO3. Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 3?

Sandcastles

Summary: There's something beneath the waves... When reader-chan inherits her grandmother's old seaside cottage, she'd never have guessed what awaited her in the water below. A merman AU. For Mermay, or whenever it gets posted. Rating: E Warnings: None Pairing: Established Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru, Slow Burn Gojo Satoru/Geto Suguru/Reader (AFAB Original Character), Pre-Polyamory Additional Notes: Fluffy. Smut, smut, smut. Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 4, plus an epilogue?

Vainglory

Summary: There's a difference between pride and vanity. Reader-chan is an undefeated arena fighter. When the emporer's son challenges her for her freedom, she scoffs at the idea of some pampered boy beating her. She's wrong. Gladiator AU. Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Gojo Satoru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Violent. Discussions of slavery. Angst. Final Chapter Count: 2?

Monkshood

Summary: The howling is growing louder. Reader-chan's village rests at the edge of a large, dense wood. Though wolves haven't been seen in the area in nearly a century, livestock starts to drop dead. and the howling starts. Werewolf AU. Rating: M Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing: Geto Suguru/Reader (AFAB Original Character) Additional Notes: Horror elements. Final Chapter Count: Not finished. 3, plus an epilogue?

#REARRANGEDfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #read on ao3 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo x oc #gojo x geto #geto x reader #geto x oc #behind the scenes #future plans #future project

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ukrfeminism · 4 months

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A key crime measure routinely quoted by ministers excludes many crimes that affect women more often than men, the BBC can reveal.

The headline figure from the Office for National Statistics (ONS) shows "total" crime has halved since 2010 - but excludes sexual assault, even rape.

The ONS says it is more challenging to collect accurate data on these kinds of crimes.

But critics say the omission hides the extent of violence against women.

Hard to measure

Not all incidents are reported to the police, so the ONS surveys 30,000 randomly selected people in England and Wales each year to work out how many crimes actually take place.

The results of the latest survey will be published on Thursday.

It says it has to treat some crimes differently.

The ONS's Helen Ross said: "In face-to-face interviews, victims - most commonly women - can be unwilling to respond if their abuser is in the room or if their family is unaware of previous abuse."

And it is hard to say what counts as a single crime of, say, stalking or harassment.

Because of these factors, separate analyses are published on sexual assault, domestic abuse, stalking and harassment.

However, these crimes, all of which happen more often to women than to men, are left out of the headline measure: the number of crimes that take place.

It only includes violent crimes, theft, robbery and criminal damage.

But this is the figure that has been used by Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and former Home Secretary Suella Braverman, as well as in Conservative Party posts on X, formerly Twitter.

Violent crime statistics do not give a picture of trends in sexual assault because these crimes are classified as sexual offences and counted separately.

Scottish official statistics follow a similar approach for categorising crimes but often refer to their "violent crimes" as "non-sexual violent crimes".

The ONS has told the BBC it will add notes to charts in its reports on crime to highlight which offences are counted and which are left out.

Ms Ross also warned that any "broad assessments" on long-term crime trends based on a single metric "should be made with caution".

Sexual assaults are actually increasing, affecting just over 4% of women aged 16 to 59 in the year to March 2023, a figure that has nearly doubled since 2014.

The rise is mainly driven by an increase in unwanted sexual touching but rape, and attempted rape, are increasing too.

Stalking has also been on the rise since 2015, reported by just under 6% of women.

However, domestic abuse now affects 6.5% of women, as opposed to just over 11% in 2005.

Harriet Wistrich, of the Centre for Women's Justice, said relying on a definition of "crime" or "violence" that excludes what many women experience and worry about "gives a distorted picture of how much safer 'the general public' are".

"Women are 'the general public'. But their experience of violence is different from men's".

Labour's Dame Diana Johnson, who chairs the Home Affairs Select Committee, said not being clear whether data about falling crime includes or excludes "key forms of violence against women undermines efforts to combat it".

She added: "The government must make the scale of violence against women visible when they talk about crime in the UK."

The Home Office was asked about its use of the crime survey headline measure.

In response, it highlighted its plans to tackle domestic abuse and violence against women and girls, and efforts the government is making to speed cases through the courts.

Labour says it would get experts to agree on a single measure summarising violence against women and girls and then commit to halving those crimes.

Additional reporting by Megan Riddell, Sana Dionysiou and Rob England

#Articles #MVAWG #law

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hoziernaturalevents · 3 months

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Hoziernatural Recs: Wincest

Sign-ups for the 2024 round of the Hoziernatural Multi-Ship Bang are open, and people will soon be working to create a whole new batch of Hoziernatural content! However, for those of you who would like something to read between now and posting, we have some recs to fill that need ❤️

Everything listed below is Wincest, but if you're a person of varied taste, then check out our Destiel, Rare Pair, and Gen/Character Study rec lists!

Follow In Your Form by @withthekeyisking-writer

Hozier Song: Shrike

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 3,235

Pairing/s: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Lucifer & Sam Winchester

Warnings: Past Rape/Non-con, Past torture, Panic Attacks

Additional Tags: Hallucination Lucifer, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Hurt Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Sam Winchester's Cage Trauma, Lucifer Being Lucifer, Gencest, Protective Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down.

To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Marvel at Flowers You'll Have Made by @sammichgirl with art by @amberdreams1960

Beta: Judi

Hozier Song: No Plan

Rating: Not Rated

Word Count: 28,811

Pairing/s: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Violence, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Additional Tags: Serial killer Dean, Canon Divergent, Happy Ending

Summary: Canon divergent Supernatural where Dean still kills monsters. What's different are the humans he kills, the reason he does it, and how Sam begins to handle the clean up afterwards. Dean is judge, jury and executioner to seeming innocents and Sam finds a way to keep them safe and off the radar with a mixture of law knowledge, an extensive fascination with botany and a bit of learned magic. Their devotion grows deeper and more feral until it's all consuming and burns bright hot, defying anything in their path to happiness.

The Look of Mischief in Your Eyes by @nonastrega with art by @brothersinablackcar and art by @rauko-creates

Beta: @oolongfog

Hozier Song: Dinner & Diatribes

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11,577

Pairing/s: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Violent Ghost Death, Explicit Sex

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Dark Comedy, Almost a Case Fic, Edgar Allen Poe References

Summary: Sam has found a gift for Dean. A once in a lifetime hunt that they can also have a little fun with. You know, if they survive it.

#hozier #spn #hoziernatural #wincest #wincest fic #wincest art #rec list

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andydrysdalerogers · 2 years

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Aurora ~ Part Three

Pairings: Andy Barber vs Lloyd Hansen; Andy Barber x OFC Aurora "Rory" Thatcher

Summary:

Work Count: 3.9+

Warnings: Mafia! Andy Barber, Mafia! Lloyd Hansen, obsessive tendencies, stalking, assault, fluff, mentions of parental death, this is a multi-verse of mixed characters SMUT 18+, very dark, non-con sharing, rape, oral (f and m receiving), loss of virginity, praise kink, daddy kink, mean! Lloyd ⚠️

This work is 18+ only. Please heed the warnings and walk away as this story does get violent as it goes on...

Banner by @justawriterand

Mood board and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

It started to rain lightly as Sam drove the pair to Andy's home. Rory took notes of the gates at the entrance. Andy exited when they pulled in front of the home and went to Rory's side. He opened the door for her and rushed her inside. Rory looked around as Andy flipped on lights. The craftsman style home was open and airy, even in the dark of the night. "Your home is lovely, Andy."

"Thanks sweetheart. It's still a bachelor pad really." Andy rubbed the back of his neck. "Since its late, why don't we leave the tour for the morning, and I show you to your room." He took her hand and led her upstairs. He stopped in front of a set of double doors. "This is my room, but this could be your room." He opened a single door right across the hall from his. The room was decorated with rich creams and muted pinks in direct contrast to the dark walnut furniture. The canopy bed had many pillows, looking like a cloud. The fireplace in the room kept it warm against the cold evening.

"I've always wanted the girl I was with to have a special place all her own, to escape or be at peace. My girl would need that given the business I'm in."

"Oh." Rory walks the room, unsure what to think.

"Aurora? I know you said it before, but I really think I need to ask again." Andy was nervous. "Will you be my girl?"

She turned to him. "Really? Like this would be mine."

"Really sweetheart. I want you to stay here, in my house. I know it's fast and you're not ready for," he smirked, "that kind of relationship but you have made me come alive. You make me want to be a better man for you." He took her hands and kissed her palms. "You are like an angel."

Rory chewed her lip. "Would I have to stop working?"

"Of course not. I just ask that you allow me to secure it. Protect you, like I promised."

She took a breath. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, my sweetheart." He kissed her forehead. "The bathroom is right through this door, If you need me, you know where to find me." He kissed her softly. "Good night, Rory."

"Good night, Andy." And with that, he exited the room. Rory looked around the room and unpacked her few belongings. The storm picks up outside, unexpected but not unusual, the branches outside hitting the walls and windows. Rory manages to tune them out with her concentration on her book and falls asleep.

Andy is laying on his bed, thinking of the girl next door. He smiled to himself, picturing her smile, her small hand in his. A flash of lightening startles him and he watches as the light of his room flicker and then turn off completely. "Fuck." He can still see as the fireplace makes the room glow in a muted orange color. His mind comes back to Rory, and he gets up to check on her. He opens the door quietly to see a peaceful sight, Rory asleep with the book on her chest. He gently lifted the book from her, placed it on nightstand and pulled the blanket over her to keep her warm. He noticed the fire was dying so he added another log. He took one more look at the sleeping beauty and headed back to his room. He got comfortable and fell right to sleep.

Another crack of lightening awakens Rory from her nightmare. She clutched her chest, trying to breath the memories away. It was dark in the room, the fire almost out. She stared at the embers for a moment, losing herself to their glow. She checked her watch. 130 AM. She jumped when another flash and crack boomed through the house. She slipped out of the warm bed, shoving slippers onto her feet and creeped to her door. She opened it to listen for any other occupants, heard nothing and crossed the hallway to Andy's room. She knocked softly but heard no response. She tried to open the door gently, but it creaked.

Andy bolted up from the noise, gun in hand, aimed at the door. Rory's eyes grew huge. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes taking in the gun

"Sweetheart, are you ok?" Andy's eyes darted around the room as he rose out of bed. He looked for the source of danger, gun still tightly in his hand. "Rory?" He looked her over to make sure she wasn't physically harmed and took in how her nightgown clung to her curves.

"I'm sorry, I had a nightmare and the lightening..." she mumbled, her eyes never leaving the gun.

Andy followed her gaze to his gun. "Fuck, I'm sorry." He put the gun down on the table and got up to her. "Rory, look at me, its ok." He took her face into his hands. "Baby, I won't hurt you." He pulled her into a hug. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's the same dream. About a car accident and the police coming and saying that my dad was drunk and slid off the road." He heard her sniffle. "Now I know it's a lie." The dam broke and hot tears ran down her face.

Andy picked her up and carried her to his bed. He laid down with her head on his chest. "I'm sorry that I caused that, Rory." He kissed her head and smoothed her hair. "I've got you now sweetheart."

She death gripped at his white undershirt and wrapped a leg around him as she buried her head in his chest. He continues to pet her hair, pressing soft kisses to her temple, her forehead as she cried. As she slowed, Rory looked up at the mobster, wet lashes sparkling in the firelight. She can see his eyes were blown wide open, a thin ring of blue still viable. He was drinking in her image. "God, you're beautiful."

"Andy," she whimpers as he pulls her closer so he can taste the tears on her lips. He captures them, tracing her lips with his tongue, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with the essence of her mouth. She's an aphrodisiac, his own personal brand of drug. He's high off this one kiss. Fuck that, he's been addicted since that first one. He moves to deepen it and pulls her on top of him.

Her breath hitches as she spreads her legs to staddle him. She can feel the head of his length beneath her. While she is trying to make sense of the sensations she was feeling, she gasps, "Andy."

"Tell me to stop sweetheart and I will." He kissed her chin and neck, gently pressing kisses to her sweet flesh.

"I – I don't want you to stop but I – I don't know how to please you."

Andy chuckled. "My darling, just being with you is more than enough. I can show you. You just tell me if you like something or if something hurts. But I mean it. If you are not ready just say the word."

Rory looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but lust and kindness. Her face didn't give her away, bright doe eyes that were framed with dark lashes studied him. After a beat, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He waited until he felt her move to deepen it before placing a hand in her hair to hold her to him. Andy wasn't used to giving up control. But he understood, to have her, he would have to surrender to her.

Lloyd watched the shadows casted from the glow of the fire. Andy's security was good. Even with the power off, his house was still a fortress. Aurora's shadow moved in the window. And then he watched as the two forms joined. Andy was going to do it again. Take what was his.

Lloyd climbed back into his car. He sent a message.

The debt to me is now owed. And I know how he can pay.

Andy slipped his hands up Rory's nightgown, feeling the soft skin of her back. She moaned at his touch. He released her lips to gently nip at her neck, stopping right at her pulse point behind her ear. "Andy," she whimpered.

"I've got you, my sweetheart." He slowly lifted the nightgown over her head, leaving her in her lacy panties. "So fucking perfect." He ran his hand from her thighs up her torso, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. Her back arched and Andy took the opportunity to take a nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck Andy," she groaned. "Feels so good. Ah!" She yelled as he bit gently.

"Need to taste you baby girl. Please? Can I taste you?"

Rory was naïve, having never experience anything like it. He could see the worry etched in her face.

"You'll enjoy it baby. I promise." He turned them over gently, so she was on her back, and he caged her in. He proceeded to start leaving gently kisses on her neck and chest, slowly moving down her body. He hooked her panties and slid them down he smooth legs.

Rory was nervous, a tremble running through her body. Andy paused. "If you want me to stop..."

"No! Please, I'm just scared. Never done this."

Andy couldn't help but smirk. "Oh. So innocent, little one." He chucked near her mound, sending vibrations through her. She gasped at the feeling. Andy slowly pressed his tongue in her folds. Her hips jerked from the motion. Andy placed an arm over her waist. "Easy there, sweetheart. Did you enjoy that?" She couldn't speak, but she nodded, and Andy dove back in. He smiled at the indecent noises come from her mouth. He worked her open, then, using his middle finger, push slowly in, making her squeal. Her pussy was tight, and he knew he needed to work he open if he wanted his cock to slide right in and not hurt her.

After a few moments, a change in Rory's breathing registered in his ears. She was close. He could feel her tightening around his finer. "Andy," she whined. "God, what is happening?" She cried, uncertain of her body's reactions.

"Your body is releasing its pleasure, my sweetheart. Let go. Don't fight it." Andy continued his onslaught. "Cum, Aurora."

The coil in Rory's belly snapped, causing her to clench her lower body, screaming Andy's name. She saw the stars in her eyes, the world muffled. Slowly, she descended from the heavens, feeling Andy press kisses to her neck and forehead. "Are you back with me sweetheart?"

"Y-yes... that felt amazing." Rory blushed as Andy chuckled.

"We can stop here, if you want." Andy continued to run his fingers on her skin.

"What if I don't want to?" She looked up at him.

"We are going at your pace, sweetheart. Tell me what you want."

Lloyd barged into the temporary headquarters that his team had set up. He reached for a tumbler and scotch, poured a heavy measure and threw it back. Fuck my brother, he thought, pacing in his makeshift office.

His second came in with a confident swagger. "Sup, boss?"

"Blackwood, what do you want?"

'You're slammin' doors boss. Just checking.' Charles Blackwood shrugged. 'I'm guessing following Barber led to some bad results?"

Lloyd snorted. "You can say that." He grabbed his phone and tossed it to him. "Remember that meatball we had in the card game last night?"

"Yeah, the showy one with that white cable knit sweater?"

"Yeah, that pompous prick. Didn't he say he was from Newton?"

"Yeah, his father. Now is in Boston. Grandfather owns that publishing company."

"Well, get him in here. Tonight."

"Why? He's just an asshole with money to burn."

"He mentioned a best friend in this town. I want to know what he knows." Lloyd glared at Charles. "Got a problem with that Charlie?"

Charles involuntarily growled at the name. But he didn't retort. Wasn't worth his life to argue with his boss. "Sure, one hour." He turned and left the room.

Lloyd turned to stare at the wall. A wall full of pictures. Of Andy. Aurora. The shop. Aurora. He took one off the wall. It was of her, smiling behind the counter, a streak of flour on her cheek. "Jesus baby, you are mouthwatering." He locked his door and took himself out of pants. He strokes long and hard, just staring. How much did he wish it was him kissing her in the darken home. To know what makes her thrash and moan. What did she taste like, what her face would contort to when she would cum?

"Jesus Christ, she's mine," he growled out loud as his own cum spurted over his fingers. He wanted what was his and he was tired of waiting. But he knew he needed to. He needed to wait until the right moment. He needed Andy gone and then he would make Aurora his.

"Tell me what you want Aurora. You want the world; you have to ask." Andy looked into the eyes of his sweetheart. The look of desire never left. He brushed away her hair.

"Take me back to heaven, Andy."

It was a simple request. And one Andy would not disappoint in completing. He laid down his girl onto his bed, kissing her softly as he did. He pulled back. "Are you sure?"

"I want you, Andrew."

Somehow, his proper name turned him on even more. He sat himself on top of her and slotted himself between her legs. "God you are so beautiful." He kissed her hard as he pushed his pajamas and boxers down. He sat up on his heels and reached for a condom. Rory looked down to see his cock at attention, the tip red and swollen. He looked big and Rory swallowed, her mouth drying.

"Andy? Andy, I don't think that it's going to fit."

Andy chuckled as he slipped the condom on. "It'll fit sweetheart. Now let's get you ready." He slipped a finger to her slit. Rory bucked up at the touch. "Relax love." He pumped his finger until she was soaking again. He spread her legs a little bit further and rubbed his tip through the folds. She mewls and he groans. "If I hurt you, you tell me, ok?" She nods. He leans over her and starts to push in.

Rory closes her eyes at the intrusion. She sucks in a breath as the pressure mounts.

"Open your eyes, Aurora. I need to see you." Her eyes flutter open to see Andy's eyes right above hers. The blue is almost nonexistent as he watches her. He continues to move, and Rory grasps his biceps, digging her nails in. Andy grunts at the pain but welcomes it, knowing it just a reaction. He finally bottoms out and lets out a sigh at the warmth and tightness of her. He sees a tear slide out of her eye. "Rory?"

"I'm ok. It just hurts a little." Rory bites her lip in an effort to stop the tears of from flowing out.

Andy smiles softly and starts to kiss the tears away. Rory can't help but giggle at his tenderness but the movement on her abdomen jolts her and she feels him more. She whimpers and Andy realizes she needs more. "Are you ready sweetheart?"

"Please Andy. I just need you to move."

Andy suck in a breath before slowly pulling out. Rory winces but sighs when he moves back in. "Are you still ok?" She nods and he keeps going, slow at first before settling in a steady rhythm. Every time Andy hits her insides, a sound, a moan, a gasp is made. "Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. God, it feels so good."

The praise sends a signal that Rory doesn't understand. She liked when people talked about her baking, and it always left her feeling good. But this, this triggered a response she wasn't ready for. She moaned, loud.

"Oh, my sweetheart likes that. She likes when I tell her what a good girl is she, taking me so well." Andy loves seeing her face contorting with pleasure. She has a praise kink, he thinks. Let's see what other secrets I can pull from her. He raises her leg so it's over his hip. "Does my baby love it like this? When daddy gets deeper in her?"

Rory doesn't even think. "Yes, daddy. I love it."

Andy smiles a wicked grin. "My good girl. My sweet girl." He can feel his belly tightening, ready to let go. "Shit, Rory, are you almost there, sweetheart?"

"Andy, please, don't stop. Daddy, please don't stop," she wailed.

He reached in between them and let his finger rub her swollen bud. She keened at the touch, but he could feel her tighten around him more and more. "Aurora, let go. C'mon baby, you can do it. Cum for me, my sweet girl."

Rory's back arched as the sweet feeling of release bloomed from her core up her body. Andy grunted at how tight she got before he himself felt the euphoria of cumming inside this stunning creature. He slows to a stop, both breathing deeply. "Rory?" Her eyes are closed.

"I'm ok," she whispers. Her eyes flutter open to see concern in Andy's baby blues. She smiles softly. "It was perfect."

Andy's heart jumped. "It was?"

"Mhmm. I loved it, daddy," she whispers seductively but gasps when she feels him twitch inside her.

"Shit, sweetheart, gonna make me hard again just with words." Andy chuckled but leaned down to kiss Rory sweetly. "Promise you're ok?"

"I'm ok." She sucked in a breath as he slowly pulled out of her.

"I'm sorry."

"No, its... just... you're so big. But I would very much like to do that again." Rory's cheeks flushed from the admission.

"Oh, sweetheart." Andy kissed her nose. "We can do that whenever you want." He got up and threw away the condom and turned to see Rory pulling on her nightgown. "Where are you going?"

"To bed, I didn't..."

"Stay." Andy stood in front of her. "Stay with me."

"You want me to stay?"

"Do you not want to?" Andy frowned.

Rory blushes. "I want to stay with you," biting her lip as she looked up at him.

Andy tugged it free, "I'm at your mercy." He brushed her hair off her shoulder. "You own me now. I would do anything for you."

Rory just stares at him. This man, this man who is the most powerful person in Newton, the king, was at her mercy. "Hold me."

"As you wish." He laid her down on top of him, smoothing her hair as she wrapped an arm around his waist. They laid in silence for a few moments. "Sweetheart, I want to assign someone to stay with you and protect you when you are away from me. You remember Paul?" She nodded. "He would be your guard, your protector."

"Would I have to close the bakery?"

"No, of course not. Just Paul and Peter would be there to protect you if something or someone happened to come by. But you have to promise to stay with them."

"Do you think Lloyd will try something?"

"I don't think sweetheart. I'm counting on him to try something." Andy kissed her head. "Rest love. Don't worry about Lloyd. Just worry about your store and about us. About what you've learned tonight. Maybe we will continue your education tomorrow." He felt her giggle and he continue to smooth her hair and graze her back with his fingertips until he felt her breathing change and slow. His mind drifted to Lloyd. It broke his heart to think that if it came down to it, Aurora or Lloyd, that he would have to kill his twin.

Lloyd woke when the sun hit his eyes from the open window. He groans but feels that he is not alone in the bed. Blonde hair, ass barely covered, he doesn't remember when he got the slut but does feel oddly satisfied. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge. He sees the pictures scattered over the floor and sees his beautiful Aurora looking up at him. Just her image gets him half hard and he's frustrated again. Fuck it. He gets on top of the blonde and raises her hips. He doesn't want to see her face, just wants to picture his gorgeous Aurora beneath him and slams into the girl. She wails as she's woken up by his pounding.

"Fuck, shit," she screams. Lloyd stops and leans over, grabbing her by her hair and tilting her head up.

"Shut up! You can moan but I don't want to hear another word from you, or I will put a bullet in your head, got it." She nods as a tear slides down her face. He grabs her hips and starts to fuck her hard. "God, tight for a slut but I like it." He pistons himself into the girl, hard at the dream that Aurora will sound the same way once he has her.

Lloyd is still a gentleman and get the girl to cum before he does so himself. He pulls out and head to bathroom. "Feel free to leave," he calls over his shoulder.

"Asshole," he hears her mutter. He comes out of the bathroom, stark naked, gun in hand.

"Did you speak?"

The girl froze, eyes wide. She doesn't say a word, just gathers her clothes and tries to leave but Lloyd stops her. "I told you not to say a fucking word. Now, I'm feeling generous. Suck me off or you die." The gun pointed at her head.

She drops to her knees and takes his flaccid penis and starts to pump, getting him hard. As soon as he's half mast, he grabs her head and shoves his dick into her mouth. He fucks her face, listening to her gag, seeing her face full of tears, spit and precome. The door opens and Charles walks in. He sees what's going on and ignores it.

Lloyd doesn't lose his stride. "Did we pay for this or did we find it?"

"Found it. She's a nobody."

"Good." Lloyd pulls off for a second, allowing her to catch her breath. "I want to know the security on the bakery, alarms, camera, everything. I want to pay my girl a visit and I don't need Barber to be alerted sooner."

"Got it. I'll get Steve to take a look."

"Good. Now excuse me, I need to finish up. You want her?" He pointed his head at the sobbing woman on the floor.

"If you are offering boss. Never would impose."

"You hear that sweetheart? Make me cum and then you got more work to do. And you better satisfy otherwise, well, you know the consequences." He takes her head and starts to fuck her face again. "Charles, you can watch and see what you are getting."

Charles smirks. "Thanks boss." He looks at the mess of a girl. "Get ready princess because I will destroy whatever is left."

Lloyd laughs as his balls tighten. He won't be this evil to his beloved. No, he'll treat her like the queen she is.

At least until he's done with her.

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #andy barber #lloyd hansen #andy barber au #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans au #andy barber fiction #andy barber fanfic #lloyd hansen fic #andy barber smut #aurora #Andy barber vs Lloyd Hansen

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rotationalsymmetry · 1 year

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I’m going to try again (cw general discussion of rape, murder, anti black violence.)

Being against rape and being against prisons are not in any sense in opposition to each other. Both are based on valuing bodily autonomy and being opposed to suffering and in favor of people generally being safe and happy.

It’s important to realize that the vast majority of rape isn’t the sort of thing the criminal justice system is particularly helpful about. A lot of rape cannot possibly be proven not to be consensual sex in court. And a lot of rape is committed by people who have dramatically more power against people with dramatically less power, sometimes by eg police officers or prison guards or soldiers in a country they’re invading, and sometimes against undocumented immigrants and sex workers and disabled people who require high levels of care and other people who really cannot go to the police and expect that to not make things worse for them.

It is also important to realize that there is very much a history of specifically the fear of black men raping white women being used to drive anti-black racism, from lynchings to mass incarceration and cops killing black people. While this is a thing that can happen and it is bad, it is not what the vast majority of rapes look like and it’s not a proportionate response. Rape is bad. But it’s not so overwhelmingly or uniquely bad that it makes killing people somehow not bad, or incarcerating people (which is itself a wrong that is capable of messing up people’s lives on the same order as rape even when it doesn’t include sexual violence itself, which it often does) or creating a culture where young black men grow up consistently seeing people like themselves be portrayed as thugs, as criminals, as predators, as sub-human.

I believe people are people. I believe black lives do in fact matter and need to be valued as much as white lives and are not currently valued as much as white lives. I believe in bodily autonomy and in personal freedom. I believe in prison abolition.

I was raised by liberals and I feel like I should make a plea for moderation here, that anyone reading this who isn’t against letting out murderers should still be with me on letting out people who have done non-violent drug crimes for instance. But…idk, do any of the liberals really want anyone in prison for non-violent drug crimes? And yet that’s what we keep getting. (In the same way that “but teenagers shouldn’t have access to irreversible surgery” gets somehow used to keep them off puberty blockers and 20 year olds off of HRT. And that 20 years ago people who thought that “there should be something for gay couples, just call it civil unions or something, not marriage” kept voting for ballot measures that did in fact also forbid civil unions.) I’m not sure half assed allies are allies at all. I’m not sure we can get any degree of giving cops less money or letting a few more people out of prison unless we face head on this fear of murderers and rapists (for certain definitions of murder and rape) and see the harm that fear does and throw it out entirely and realize that if George Zimmerman and the various cops who have killed black people can walk free, people who have killed people in a way that legally counted as “murder” can be allowed to walk free too without the fucking world ending. If the white guy who raped me can walk free without the world ending, so can rapists who did something legally recognizable as rape. And you know what? I can be generous. All the cops and prison guards and politicians who voted for mass incarceration and all the people who have done horrifying things in the military and the people who run the companies that make drones and chemical weapons, those can all walk free too. Because depriving people of their liberty is itself violence.

Prison. Abolition. Now.

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bitegore · 2 years

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Red Dragon's 08-08 Fic Wrapup

So if you follow my ao3 you may have noticed that I posted something to the tune of 20+ fics today. and also if you were paying attention you may have noticed that I was also asking for prompts today and all the fics are short as hell. yes i did write these all today and then posted them as i went.

Since there are so many, i'm just gonna post them all in one big megapost. Mind the warnings on the ones with warnings, please.

1. watch your step - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40885263 Wheeljack fucks up his knee trying to get the job done, but he's not going to let that stop him. Warnings: Non-graphic injury

2. impotent threats - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40886244 you've got a murderous helicopter tied up in your bed. This can only end badly, but before that… well, before that, you might as well enjoy yourself. Second-person reader-on-Vortex "in media res" violent rape that's established to have been going on for a while and he's really mad about it. Warnings: Rape/Noncon, Non-Graphic Injury, Non-Consensual Bondage

3. way above me, find you there - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40886871 Onslaught thinks about Blast Off and whether or not they count as "friends".

4. same old story - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40887144 Literally just Megatron and Optimus fighting, g1 grapple-on-the-ground style. Warnings: violence.

5. I swear this time I'm getting back to good - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40887330 Impactor decides to work with Carnivac. Double drabble, set around the end of Sins of the Wreckers.

6. Negotiate This - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40887678 Megatron wants the Autobots to surrender. After all, he has their Prime. Prowl knows better than to accept these ridiculous terms, though. No matter what Megatron does to his leader, he knows better than to think Optimus would ever be okay with them. Warnings: NSFW, Rape/Noncon, Non-Graphic Violence, what may be the world's cruelest fade to black honestly

7. The Joy of Consumption - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40887918 Tarantulas eats someone, like he wanted to do to Cheetor. Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Injury, Cannibalism/Hard Vore, debatable noncon/rape depending on how sexual you want to read it

8. Stop Moving - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40888308 No one wants to do Vortex's tune-ups, but someone has to. Today that someone is Hook. Warnings: NSFW, One-sided Attraction, Vortex being a sex pest in Hook's general direction

9. I told you to hold still - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40888824 TFW this fucker keeps coming into the medical wing because he's injured and will not stop trying to get you to jerk him off about it Warnings: NSFW, Self-Inflicted Injury, One-sided Attraction, Vortex being a sex pest in Hook's general direction

10. Old Traditions and New Experiences - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40890102 it's take your not-quite-rehabilitated knife catboy to temple day in New Crystal City and Wing is going to make sure Drift participates. Projection train goes brr, I'm Jewish and I'm making the New Crystal City's religious practices feel like going to shul and you can't stop me.

11. Great. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40891410 Bumblebee gets shot with an experimental weapon. Time to figure out what it's done to him. G1-style silliness.

12. just another lab accident - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40892865 Wheeljack's blown half his torso off. How come he and Ratchet are so chill about all this? Or: Ratchet and Wheeljack have an arrangement, much to the bafflement of some of the other Autobots. Warnings: NSFW, Graphic Injury

13. quick tour - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40894308 Skullsmasher and Hun-Grr get along from the get-go. Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence

14. deterrent - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40894548 Some idiot's laid hands on First Aid and Buzzsaw and Vortex are here to show the entirety of the galaxy why that is a very bad, very fatal idea. This one is set in @cleverthylacine's Voice of Stanix AU which I enjoy a lot! You can find it here. Deterrent has been officially canonized to VOS which I'm very excited about haha. Warnings: Major Character Death, Non-Graphic Injury, implication doing heavy lifting

15. go on, Doctor, smile. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40894959 Pharma needs Tarn to let him put a sabotaged part in his chest. How better than to play like he'd been beaten? And how better to pretend (ugh) that his pride had been beaten out of him (ugh, Primus) than to let the fucking asshole fuck him? One of probably several attempts to kill Tarn before Pharma went fully scorched-earth and tried out killing all his patients in order to maybe get Tarn with a virus. Warnings: NSFW, Noncon/Rape, Graphic Depictions of Violence, general emotional Bad

16. "I'm gonna die if- " - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40895442 Vortex is one good hard rub away from an orgasm and he needs it so bad, First Aid, please stop worrying about the near-fatal wound in his chest, please please please. First Aid would really appreciate it if his fuckbuddy would have one iota more self-preservation and stopped begging him to jerk him off so First Aid could keep him from offlining on the spot and THEN jerk him off. Please. Warnings: NSFW, graphic injury

17. you've got to be kidding - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40895661 Seriously, can't Megatron ever just stay dead?

18. Favorite - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40896126 Shattered Glass - Impactor and Bulkhead are playing all sorts of games with each other. Well, mostly just Impactor. Bulkhead is just having fun with the game. Warnings: NSFW, Noncon/Rape, general SG!Autobot crunchiness

19. stop going off into trouble. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40896459 oneshot of Redshift and Astrotrain cuddling and talking after the events of Transmissions from Cybertron

20. Sharing Stuff (Sharing Snuff) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40896717 Vortex and Dead End share an interest. Vortex might as well help him get hooked up with some of the good shit. It's just so interesting to see from the outside. Warnings: NSFW

21. Sit and Stay - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40897065 Hook knows how to deal with Vortex now. Followup to "Stop Moving" and "I told you to hold still", contains less of Vortex being a sex pest. Warnings: soft NSFW, injuries

22. HURRY UP - https://archiveofourown.org/works/40897698 Vortex and Wheeljack both have an interest in some fairly extreme painplay. Except Vortex is essentially on parole, and he's worried that actually doing anything might reflect badly on him. Wheeljack just kind of really wants to get this show on the fucking road immediately because come on, just fuck him already please. Warnings: NSFW

sorry about accidentally posting this half formatted. here we go

#my writing #bitegore fic

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spicywhumper · 4 months

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@febuwhump 2024: day 13. "you weren't supposed to get hurt".

series: crimson history | rating: mature | word count: 1,388

cw: implied/mentioned stepcest, non-con, child abuse, memory alteration & blood/gore-ish deaths.

Jennifer can't breath. this is not what was supposed to happen.

she has stopped trusting on her gut somewhere along the way, stopped trusting when that feeling on the back of her head became too annoying. if she ignored her instincts, she could ignore that there's something wrong with her. she could be soothed by the agency's healers telling her that the layer of magic on her Core is protective magic. it's traditional for magician parents to cast deeply rooted shields in their children, and her mother was her coven's Head Magician.

her stepsister escape was a bloodshed, guards tried to stop her and she killed each one of them. violently, tearing them apart like the feral devil she's supposed to be. paired with how it hapened five weeks after mom's death (death that was her stepsister's fault)...

the therapist said that haze, foggy, even completely gone memories was normal.

childhood in a coven is rough, Jennifer was only nineteen when half of her peers had their entrails scattered across the groud and their heads bashed beyond recognition.

her hands tremble, she spent the last three days reading journal after journal, scroll after scroll, given to her by one of few guards that survived her stepsister's�� second escape. if sixteen year-old Jessica was feral, twenty-nine Jessica is destruction in human shape.

but as she reads and reads...

she'd be destruction too.

the first journal she opened, randomly, was a rough start. a random page from the time between Jessica's first escape and Jennifer leaving the coven. memory spells, intertwined with the shield, bound by mother's blood... by mother's sickness.

my daughter, blood of my blood, she's clever but she's emotional. she turned a blind eye, I noticed. she loves Jessica enough to care about her, to want her to be fine. she's selfish enough to ignore the signs so her heart isn't broken.

more selfish than she realizes, or it's easier to read my relationship with Jessica as favoring my stepdaughter. or she just doesn't know what Masters like to to with their Dogs.

written the night before, she turns the page:

a coven that prouds itself of bloodlines, that's what we are, and I was fool enough to think that Jessica wouldn't value bloodline like this. even after Jocelyn all but abandoned her to me, even as the only person that does love her is Jennifer.

but even the wise commit mistakes. Jocelyn's death has awaken something in her. the angry, bloodlusting devil that not even ten years of conditioning can tame. when I gave her the order of the next mission, when i told her to switch. something inhuman came out.

but not even the deepest hellfire can burn through the protections placed around the bunker.

when I came out, half of my guards had been ripped apart. the blood soaked throught the stones. and Jennifer was there, waiting for me. hands shaking, covered in blood, growling. that's why I coerced the strongest yet malleable werewolf I could find.

a shame werewolves have the urge to attack in close range. half-breds are still weakened by silver blades.

Jennifer feels the scar, the one dangerously close to her heart, sting. she had been told it was Jessica...

it's an easy decision, blood of my blood, spells casted on her by me are almost impossible to break. tampering with memories might work well, might turn her into a drooling vegetable.

my reputation is valuable enough.

after reading that, she thinks that's the worst thing that her mother would write. just to be proven wrong by the other entires, by the entries about... the Dog.

the training, the torture. Jennifer's brain is flooded by foggy images of Jessica. her muscular shape, looking much older than she actually is since she's barely more than a toddler. whippings, cuttings, used as a punch bag, burns.

and rape.

so much fucking rape.

Joan had considered Jessica mature enough at eleven (when Jessica easily looked sixteen, and it doesn't make anything better). Joan doesn't hold back any details about training her own god-dammed stepdaughter into a weapon and into a sex toy.

Jennifer almost throws up when that stupid spell shows in her notes.

she needs to stop, and does throws up when she remembers that time she found the empty birth control pills. she throws up as she remember finding Jessica on the bathroom floor, bleeding and in pain. a few weeks after Jennifer accidentaly commented about the pills to mom, she didn't even noticed, back then, the connection.

she can't remember everything, but remembers enough.

and like a sadistic fool, she found Jessica and immedietly informed mother. the mysterious "straighjacket psycho" stopped her activities two days later.

three months ago.

three months ago Jennifer delivered Jessica back in the hands of the woman that abused, tortured and raped her.

just to be abused, tortured and raped all over again.

Jennifer steels herself and reads the more recent journals, the ones about that gap. they're all praising for Jennifer and joy for having her favorite warm fuckable body back. the last four entries are finally when Joan mentions the weapon side of what she used the "Dog" for.

Jennifer carefully hides the journals and the scrolls.

she sneaks into the HQ, they keep blood and hair samples of all their agents, including the ones currently inactive. like captain Caroline Fletcher. who was the one handling the "straightjacket psycho" case, went missing for almost two years. came back with zero memory of what happened at that time, but even healthier than before the Incident.

if Jennifer's gut is correct, Fletcher is her best be at finding Jessica. maybe she's not, maybe Fletcher doesn't know anything about Jessica, there's a chance Fletcher wasn't with Jessica during all that time (she recognize the magic, but it has been ten years).

sleep deprived, exhausted, angry and disgusted: she self-banishes to the gamma-class safehouse.

"agent Morgan?" Fletcher asks, lowering the shotgun after recognizing her. "uh, hey, what's wrong?"

"have you seen Jessica?"

she frowns: "am I supposed to know who that is?"

she's not lying, she's genuinely confused. Jennifer, with a shaking hand, she grabs her phone and shows Fletcher the picture. the only picture she has. fifteen-year old Jessica smiling, an arm around Jennifer's neck and looking much, much happier than she actually was.

Fletched immedietly recognizes her.

"what-"

"have you seen her or not?"

"why?"

"because I need to know if she's fucking alive!"

"I'm notoriously hard to kill," she sounds almost the same. almost. raspier, raspier in the way Jennifer had hear multiple times: you can scream enough to damage your voice.

"Jessica," she breathes.

"people usually don't call me that."

"I-" she steps forward, Fletcher's on her way, ready to shoot if she moves too fast.

"stand down, little soldier," Fletcher huffs, but does what Jessica says. "yeah. I'm alive. what else do you need?"

"apologize," Jennifer keeps eye contact and kneels, she hears Fletcher small surprised noise. "I didn't- I didn't know. you weren't supposed to get hurt."

"a coven known for being bloodlust, for harsh punishment, for shaping children into ruthless soldiers. what you expected to happen to a deserter after over ten years?"

"they gave me Joan's journals," the nonchalant, almost mocking, posture changes to cold. to paralyzed cold Jennifer is familiar with, from every time someone knows she had been hurt. "I'm not- I'm not sure I knew back then. Joan messed with my memories. I didn't know when I... report your location."

"how you found me?"

"I'm on the SAR team, on the agency. I have access to recent blood samples."

"and?"

"healing with magic infuses blood with it, I recognized it. you hid well, took me two months to find you. took them three months to find a way to catch you."

Fletcher gasps, the realization that it was her blood that led to Jessica... to her being caught, clearly shocking her. Jessica notices, she focuses on her: "come here," she calls, gently, and Fletcher obeys. "you come here too, you look awful."

"I- but I-"

"just move your furry ass before I let you freeze out here."

a small smile forms on her face without even meaning to: that's still some of the girl she lost all that time ago.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday13 #whump #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #lady whump #whump writing #mentioned stepcest cw #mentioned non-con cw

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janegilmore · 1 year

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New Post: https://janegilmore.com/fixedit-he-didnt-rape-social-media/

FixedIt: He didn't rape social media

Nine News published an AAP report on a rapist’s appeal against his sentence under a headline that not only erases the 14 women and girls this man raped and terrorised, it also completely misrepresents the actual case.

The rapist claimed his initial sentence was “crushing”. In response, the court said “this analysis is flawed and of little assistance”. One of the judges pointed out that “An offender sentenced to a lengthy term of imprisonment may well consider the sentence to be ‘crushing’ but in many cases a long sentence may be the proportionate response to the circumstances of that case.”

AAP chose a discredited quote to sensationalise a headline and then they erased all the women and girls this man chose to rape. He didn’t rape social media. He didn’t rape those women and girls because of social media. He raped them because he chose to commit a crime against them. How does “social media” earn a place in this headline”? Are they trying to suggest he’d never have raped a woman if he’d had his Facebook account removed?

One of the things I’ve learned since I started FixedIt is that women, men, and even children who are raped or abused by violent men will often read media reports about the crimes committed against them. It’s part of trying to understand what happened, why it happened and what other people think about the perpetrator did to them.

The women and girls he raped were aged between 15 and 28. Imagine being one of those women, or someone who loves them, and reading this headline. How it would feel to see his sentence described as “crushing” and his crime minimised to “social media” rape.

These headlines are not victimless crimes.

The trial judge called his actions “depraved”, “despicable” and “evil”. There’s some words that might belong in this headline.

The rapist was initially sentenced to 40 years, with a 30-year non-parole period. An error was identified (the starting point for his indicative sentence on one count was higher than the maximum penalty) and the appellate judges imposed a sentence of 35 years with a non-parole period of 26 years and three months. A reduction, yes, but this is not the story told by an inaccurate, sensationalised, misleading, and ignorant headline.

If you’re reading this on social media, links to all the articles are on the post on my website: www.JaneGilmore.com

FixedIt is an ongoing project to push back against the media’s constant erasure of violent men and blaming of innocent victims. If you would like to help fund it – even $5 a month makes a big difference – please consider becoming a Patron

1800 RESPECT Sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling and support. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Ph: 1800 737 732 www.1800respect.org.au

Suicide Call Back Service 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Ph: 1300 659 467 www.suicidecallbackservice.org.au Kids Helpline 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Phone: 1800 55 1800 www.kidshelp.com.au

Men’s Referral Service Support for men who use violence and abuse. 7 days a week Ph: 1300 766 491 https://ntv.org.au/get-help/

#FixedIt

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly

Summary: After Spencer fails his firearm recertification, the FBI believes some hand-to-hand combat and self-defence training is in order, and who better to administer it than the BAU's very own, Derek Morgan? Everything goes swimmingly until Derek decides to simulate an attack from above, and Spencer's thrust into the throes of a horrific flashback.

Tags: hurt/comfort, past abuse, platonic cuddling, angst with a happy ending, friendship or pre-slash, crying, panic attacks, flashbacks, episode: s01e06 LDSK, protectiveness TW: !!Discussions of Underage Rape/Non-Con including Molestation and Incestuous Sexual Abuse!!

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

It’s a dreary day in late October when he fails his recertification test. Later, he’ll look back on this moment with a strange mixture of thankfulness and stone-cold dread, but in the moment all he can feel is the burning of his cheeks and the festering humiliation sat heavy in his chest.

Hotch is kind about it, because Hotch is kind about everything.

“Do you know what happened, Reid?” he asks with a complete absence of judgement, and it’s clear from everything about his body language and tone that he isn’t angry and he isn’t being critical, but Spencer feels his defences rising regardless.

He shakes his head and shrinks back in his seat, avoiding Hotch’s eyes.

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

His eyes snap up to meet Hotch’s and he shifts to sit a bit more upright as he shakes his head with more vehemence this time. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the evaluator, but only because he seemed unimpressed with Spencer from the moment he laid eyes on him, acting as though evaluating someone who was doomed to fail was a waste of time.

Spencer can’t exactly blame him.

Hotch sighs. “Listen, Spencer,” he says gently, “I know you can handle yourself in the field and I know you can handle a gun just fine, but you know how many requirements were overlooked for you to join the unit in the first place, and you also know that your position in the BAU has been controversial with a few of the higher-ups. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to be your evaluator for your next recertification in two weeks, and in the meantime, I want you to do some hand-to-hand training with Derek to improve and consolidate your field and self-defence skills.”

Realistically, he knows that this is the best he could’ve hoped for, and he knows how hard Hotch and Gideon fight his corner when he’s questioned by everyone from witnesses to local PDs to the director of the bureau himself.

That does not mean he has to be happy about this.

He acquiesces because he has to. “Okay,” he says quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as defeated as he feels.

“Reid,” Hotch says, redirecting his attention from the spot on the carpet he’s staring at. He waits for Spencer to look at him before smiling slightly and looking at him with a raw kind of earnest he knows is privileged to witness. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

It’s Spencer’s turn to smile, brightening up from his miserable disposition slightly. “I do.”

⭑⭑⭑

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says cheerfully, slamming his locker closed just as Spencer enters the FBI gym. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Spencer sighs, opening the locker next to Derek’s and putting his messenger bag inside before opening the grocery bag he’d brought his gym clothes in. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says drily as he pulls out his clothes and heads towards one of the two private changing cubicles.

He hears Derek chuckle to himself before he calls back to him as he opens the door to the gym. “I’m gonna set up, you come through when you’re ready.”

Spencer procrastinates for as long as he can, making sure his shoes are tied perfectly and the bows are even sizes, folding all his work clothes as neatly as possible and placing them carefully back into the grocery bag, but before long, there’s nothing more he can do and he has to face the music. He inhales deeply, steeling himself for the next hour, before putting his bag in his locker (closing it with much less force than Derek did earlier) and walking into the gym.

It’s a fairly big hall that’s usually used for academy recruits, large scale demonstrations, and the various sports teams that have cropped up in different divisions of the FBI. Spencer knows that Derek currently plays basketball for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime team, the department that the BAU is part of.

Right now, though, Derek has them set up in a tucked-away corner, both hard and soft mats laid out on the ground surrounded by various equipment Spencer couldn’t hope to identify correctly.

“You took your time,” Derek says when Spencer approaches him, eyebrows raised and an obvious note of amusement in his voice. “But now you’re here, let’s get started.”

They begin with a short conditioning exercise that Derek says is supposed to ‘get the blood pumping’ but in actuality has Spencer panting like a dog and soaked with sweat within minutes. Maybe those higher-ups have something of a point. He knew he was unfit, but this is just embarrassing.

“Okay, now with the warm-up out of the way—”

“That was a warm-up?”

Derek doubles over with his laughter and Spencer can’t help but join in, despite how out of breath and red in the face he might be.

“It’s supposed to be, Spence, but maybe I over-estimated things a little,” he concedes once their giggles have died out. “Alright, alright, let’s move on to some basic self-defence moves. I know you probably already know most of these, but this is supposed to be a refresher, yeah? And to remind you that you can hold your own in the field, whether you pass your recertification or not.”

Spencer winces. “I don’t know, Derek, I mean I did fail every single physical aspect of the academy examination.”

“See, that’s what I mean, pretty boy,” Derek says, standing up from the mat and helping Spencer up, too. “You’re in your own head, and when you’re out in the field, you have enough enemies without making your own mind one as well. You know this stuff, Spence, I’m just here to remind you of that.”

“Alright,” he nods, holding in his sigh. He doesn’t mean to be negative, he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. The last week has been rough.

“Okay, so let’s go through front-facing attacks first,” Derek says. “What’s the first move you can do to protect yourself in that situation?”

“Elbow shield,” Spencer replies, holding out his arm and blocking Derek from coming any closer with his forearm acting as a barrier that Derek presses his chest against.

“Exactly, and what can you do to inflict damage in that position?”

Spencer responds by sliding his forearm up to Derek’s neck and applying light pressure, not wanting to actually hurt him.

“You got it. Okay, now what if I manage to grab you and pull you closer, what’s your move?”

He keeps his forearm locked to keep Derek from advancing too close, but this time he grabs his bicep with both hands and uses his core to bring him closer before he raises his shin and mimes kicking him in the groin.

“See, you know this stuff,” Derek says brightly. “The only note I have is to just remember to keep your thumbs in line with the rest of your fingers, not wrapping under my arm.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. The thumb is easily broken, although the most common injury associated with a broken thumb is actually damage to the larger bone of your hand, the metacarpal.”

Derek chuckles. “Exactly.”

Funnily enough, Spencer actually finds himself having fun as they walk through some other basic defensive movements as well as the best way to use tactical punches to overpower or debilitate an unsub or attacker. They frequently burst into peals of laughter, as can be expected when two close individuals find themselves having to do semi-serious work together, and before he knows it, forty-five minutes have flown by.

“Okay, I want to end with some more up close and personal attacks and the best way to stave them off, alright?” Derek says as he puts away the boxing gloves and pads.

Immediately, Spencer feels a small glimmer of nerves and anticipation for how this might make him feel, but he brushes it off. He knows he’s safe with Derek, and the whole point of the exercise is to defend himself. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Let’s start with an attacker coming at you from behind,” Derek decides, coming up behind him. “I’m going to cover your mouth, and you’re going to use your skills and knowledge to remove me, alright?”

Spencer nods, hoping Derek doesn’t read the hesitancy in it, and he supposes that he doesn’t because soon enough a large palm is tightly covering the lower half of his face.

For a brief moment, he isn’t a twenty-five-year-old agent training with one of his closest friends in the gym in the basement of the FBI Headquarters, but a scared and lonely ten-year-old in his childhood bedroom, trying to fight the persistent, evil man on top of him, wondering why his dad would do this to him—

He snaps himself out of it by opening his eyes and forcing himself to take in the surroundings, and before long instinct takes over and he’s gripping at Derek’s wrist and using his core and bodyweight to bend forward and free himself from the restrictive hold.

“Good job, Reid!” Derek says encouragingly, and there’s no evidence on his face when he turns around that he noticed any sort of hesitation or deliberation, so he suspects that his flashback really was only for a second, no matter how everlasting and all-consuming it felt in the moment.

He manages a shaky smile, and invites his next method of torture. “What’s next?”

“Okay, what if I was to grab your t-shirt and immediately start punching you?” Derek asks, immediately miming doing exactly like that.

Fighting the instinct to go into protective mode, he instead turns around elbow first and uses his other hand to mime punching Derek while his knee goes up to attack his groin.

“Perfect! That’s the spirit, kid. No unsub’s ever gonna get the best of you.”

Spencer blushes a little at the praise, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to meet his eye, but inside he’s beyond pleased, both with the encouragement from Derek and his own self-confidence he can feel flooding back. Maybe he really does have a handle on the more physical side of things. Maybe he isn’t just good for his brain.

“Alright, let’s finish off with some on the ground stuff, okay?” Derek says, sitting down on the mat and inviting Spencer to join him with a pat on the space beside him.

He hesitates a little, and this time Derek notices, his face softening.

“Listen, I know this one is a bit more uncomfortable than the others, but we’re almost done, right? Let’s just get a few moves consolidated and then you can go and have a shower and head home to relax.”

Spencer nods finally and joins him, laying on his back as Derek instructs. The vulnerability of the position has him feeling deeply uncomfortable, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s safe with Derek, but he forces himself to lie still. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to reveal this very personal and private detail of his childhood to his best friend. He just needs to keep reminding himself that he’s safe.

“Right, let’s practice the pinned wrist escape, okay?”

Before he knows what’s happening, before he can process the words and prepare him for what’s about to happen, Derek’s straddling him and resting his full weight over his hips and his wrists are wrapped in a tight grip, pinned to the mat above his head.

It’s so sudden and the sensations so overwhelming that he can’t help the immediate fear response that’s triggered, because he’s not in the FBI gym with Derek anymore, he’s somewhere else entirely.

“No, please,” he begs, voice strangled by a sudden, all-consuming dry sob that heaves his chest, “please don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, please, dad, don’t—”

His sobs suddenly overtake his words and he’s left crying pathetically on the floor, too trapped in the memory to notice that the pressure’s been removed from his hips and he’s free to move his arms, too consumed by the physical and emotional anguish that came with the abuse to hear Derek’s desperate, heart-broken pleas from beside him, begging him to come back to himself.

“Spencer!”

A voice finally manages to break through the fog of panic, and he slowly regains consciousness, the white hot glaze of fear and crippling memory fading incrementally until he can see the high beams of the gym ceiling, until he can hear Derek’s gentle, soothing words beside him.

“It’s alright, pretty boy, I’m here, you’re safe,” Derek tells him gently, although Spencer can hear the urgency in his voice, even in his scared and overwhelmed state.

He covers his face with his hands as his desperate, heaving sobs transform into wet, humiliated cries.

“Hey, hey, Spence,” Derek murmurs beside him, “is it alright if I touch you?”

He considers shaking his head, but really, he wants some comfort right now, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for embarrassing himself further later. He’s glad he does though because Derek very carefully and very slowly lifts him up until he’s wrapped up in a comforting hug, his face buried in a strong chest. He’s not sure he’s ever felt safer than in this exact moment.

“You’re alright, pretty boy, I got you.”

Spencer continues to cry, the overwhelm of having a flashback that intense still wracking his body, but eventually, he starts to calm down, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles as he collapses, boneless against Derek’s body.

“Here, why don’t you have this granola bar and some water,” Derek suggests gently when his tears have dried up, reaching over to the edge of the mat where he was clearly hiding some post-exercise rewards.

Spencer accepts them tiredly, not moving from his position slumped against Derek’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks him once he’s sipped his way through half the bottle and the granola bar is gone.

As much as he’d like to get things off his chest, as much as he trusts Derek, he just— can’t. So he shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting upright position, although he still doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says softly. “I’m gonna drive you home. Come on.”

Spencer numbly walks through the locker room and the halls of the FBI with Derek guiding him until they reach his car, and the motion of climbing in brings a little bit more awareness back to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers as Derek starts the engine and drives them out of the parking garage.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy. No thanks needed.”

They don’t speak on the journey home, and Spencer contents himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery until they enter the city and trees transform into tower blocks. His mind drifts, but he’s just grateful that it doesn’t keep circling back to the flashback, having somewhat successfully resealed those memories like he always does, pushing them down and smothering them with as much good as he can collect in people and memories and things.

The silence between them prevails until Derek steps into his apartment behind him, closing the front door and helping Spencer out of his jacket before hanging his own coat up on a hook and steering Spencer towards the sofa. “You are going to sit here,” he orders, picking up one of Penelope’s hand-knitted blankets from its position neatly folded over the arm of the sofa, “while I get some tea and something to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”

Spencer remembers the satsumas and macaroons Penelope brought over the other day and tells Derek as such, following the other man with his eyes until he disappears into the kitchen and he’s left alone with his hazy thoughts for a couple of minutes.

They pass in a blur, though, and before he can blink, Derek is pressing a mug of warm chamomile tea into his hands and placing a small plate of a satsuma and a couple of macaroons on the coffee table.

The weight of Derek sitting down on the sofa next to him, and the grounding feeling of his palm wrapped around his ankle, has his hazy mind clearing until he’s in a much more present and aware headspace, enough so that Derek clearly notices it.

“You feeling a bit more like yourself?”

Spencer nods, and offers a small smile, trying to ignore the curls of humiliation and self-loathing working their way up his throat. Thoughts he hasn’t had in years are bursting at the seams Spencer had sewn tightly around them, brought up by physical memory alone, and he’s trying to hold them back, but somewhere in the back of his head, there’s his dad again, whispering dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, di—

“Hey, Spence,” he hears, and he snaps his head up, his dad’s voice shutting up and making room for Derek’s — Derek’s soft and gentle reassurances, his promises that he’s here and he’s safe and everything will be okay. “You got a bit lost in your head again there, kid. You alright?”

Spencer sighs tiredly, and a tear runs down his face unbidden. He’s not crying exactly, just— leaking. Leaking in the way a tap that hasn’t been turned on for years does when it finally experiences a much overdue release of pressure. Leaking in the way Spencer Reid does when he has a flashback to the sexual abuse he experienced as a child for the first time in two and a half years.

“Spencer,” Derek says, and something in his voice catches his attention, something serious, something earnest. He looks over at him. “Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

His cheeks pale and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because those words, that means— surely not, right? How could Derek— how could he—

“It happened to me, too.”

And there’s the confirmation. There are the five words that have him breaking down again, tears splashing into hot chamomile tea and onto cold, cold hands, sobs wracking his sore and tired shoulders. No one should have to go through what he did, no one. Especially not— God, especially not—

“Hey, Spencer, listen to me,” Derek says urgently scooting closer on the sofa until he can lift Spencer’s chin up with his hands and raise his head until their eyes are locked on one another and he can bear witness to the pain and the openness and the concern swimming in his dark brown irises. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re safe. Don’t cry, pretty boy, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

He pauses to give Spencer a little time to catch his breath, but after a couple of minutes he speaks up again. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Spencer knows it will break his heart to hear. He doesn’t want to listen to a story in which Derek Morgan was the victim and not the hero, not his hero, but part of him knows that he needs to hear it; needs to know that he wasn’t and isn’t alone. And he can’t help but wonder whether maybe Derek needs to say it. Whether he also needs to tell someone what happened and have them empathise completely, have them say “I understand, I know what you’re going through” and have them mean it.

So he nods.

“His name was Carl Buford,” Derek says, resting the hand not clutching Spencer’s ankle on his knee, “and he was my football coach. A hero of the community. After my dad died, I got in a little trouble on the streets, right, and as a result, I got a record. Eventually, that record was expunged, and I learned that Buford had done it. I was confused, obviously, but he told me I had potential, that I was special, that I was going places and he was gonna help me get there.

“And so we started spending more time together. At first, it was just one-on-one football training and some run of the mill mentoring, and I finally felt like I had a real father figure again, someone who I could look up to and talk to and trust. Until one day when he took me up to his cabin. He gave me Helgeson wine to intoxicate me, and then convinced me to go skinny-dipping in a lake with him but when we came back to the cabin, he started— he started rubbing up against me. It eventually spiralled into… molestation and rape. He used to say "You better man up, boy, look up to the sky" when I would cry out for him to stop, or later — when some shameful part of me had accepted it — when I would wince in pain or he could sense I didn’t want to be there.

“And that went on for years until I guess I outgrew his preference and he— I mean— I guess, I guess he must have moved on.”

Spencer wants to be sick, and he’s pretty sure Derek feels the same, so all he can do is lean forward and wrap Derek in the tightest hug he can manage while they cry together.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Spencer asks after a little time has passed.

Derek nods. “When it started affecting my football career in college, I started seeing a therapist, and I’ve really gotten to a place now where I’ve come to terms with it. As much as I’m ever going to be able to anyway. Half of that therapy was me grieving for the childhood I lost, expressing the anger I felt towards Buford in a healthy way, and then accepting that there isn’t anything I can do to undo the pain except work my ass off at the BAU putting guys like him behind bars since I lost my chance with him.”

Spencer nods. “I’m sorry he isn’t in prison.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders a little, pulling out of the hug. “I keep tabs on him. If I ever so much as catch a whiff of him hurting one of the boys at the centre I’ll be on him in no time. Just… waiting for the evidence, I guess.”

Spencer takes the hand resting on top of his knee and squeezes it, a show of solidarity his tongue can’t manage.

They sit in silence for long, comfortable minutes before Spencer finally feels like sharing. He knows that Derek isn’t expecting anything: if he never wanted to explain, he knows Derek would understand completely, but something about knowing he’ll understand like no one else can, that he can share and feel safe in doing so has his own story rolling off his tongue like it never has before.

“It was my dad,” Spencer says quietly, a confession he’s always been too ashamed to make. “The first time it happened was the night of my sixth birthday. He said that the day was his own celebration, because he’d waited so long and he was finally going to get his prize. He raped me. It wasn’t like that every time, sometimes he’d stop at… touching or— or fellatio, sometimes he’d come into my room and stand over me, getting off on how scared I was anticipating the act that never came.

“He left when I was ten, not far away from my eleventh birthday, and a big part of me always wondered whether the main reason he left was that I wasn’t in his preferential age group anymore. But when I was thirteen, I bumped into him in a hotel in California of all places, and even though I was bigger and stronger and nowhere near as vulnerable, he still got the best of me, he still weaseled his way into my room and took advantage of me again. After that time I carried pepper spray everywhere I went until the FBI issued me a gun. I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

Derek looks desperately sad when he finally meets his eyes again, and before he knows it he’s being wrapped in another hug, and they’re both in pieces again. However painful these memories are, though, the release of them is more cathartic than anything Spencer’s ever experienced; crying together with another survivor over everything they lost, the people that stole their childhoods and abused them for years on end, their younger, scared selves, desperate for someone to save them.

It hurts Spencer’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever felt safer than right in this moment.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about this, Spence?” Derek asks eventually, with his cheek resting on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Yes,” he admits, another tear dripping onto the hands curled anxiously in his lap.

Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye, cupping his face gently and brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m proud of you.”

As broken and unseemly and ripped open and torn apart as he feels right now, as exposed as this entire ordeal has made him feel, for the first time, he thinks he agrees with Derek.

His trust was destroyed by the person supposed to protect him, and he’s carried the trauma of being sexually abused as a young child around with him for the last two decades, and still, he’s here. He’s brave enough to share himself with Derek, and he’s strong enough to cry and grieve and ache for the scared six-year-old boy he wishes he could go back in time and save.

Right now, in the early evening light of the flat and the safe and supportive arms of his best friend, he’s proud of himself, too. And that feels really damn good to finally say.

Please practice self-care after reading this, especially if you are also a survivor. RAINN Rape Crisis UK International Help for Survivors

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @cmily @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (taglist form)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry XXII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, blood, some elements untagged.

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

Synopsis: The reader’s past and present come to a head.

Note: I want to thank everyone for making this fic so special. Honestly, my intent was 4 chapters with just Bucky and Steve. It stretched on into... this and I had so much fun reading everyone’s reactions and thinking of what to do next and just hitting ‘post’ has been so much fun!

You guys really are special. You’ve not only taken this story this far but you’ve done so much more for a blog I started when my old fandom left me a little disillusioned and uninspired.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Your existence stretched on from one torturous day to the next. The nights were hardest. Even as you cursed the mornings for rising. You counted them like the lashes across your flesh, like the violations of your body, like the aches that inhibited your body. You counted, you waited. You didn’t know when it would come but there had to be a chance. A single chance for it all to be over, one way or the other.

You woke after the first fortnight to the noise of shouting. Two weeks to see you once more bound to the prison of his body and mind. Two weeks to drag you back down to the pathetic maid without a hope.

The guards inside the walls clamoured in the courtyard and those at the gate secured it as voices argued in bellowed shouts. You couldn’t make out what was going on beyond even as you crept over to the window and peered down at the flurry.

You saw only shadows beyond the wall but hadn’t the strength to think it was anyone who could save you. You heard Barnes sit up with a groan and looked back at him, shying away from the window as you balanced yourself against the wall.

“What is happening?” He stood and swept his long tangled hair away from his face. He drew back the curtains and looked down. He frowned and squinted. “Who is fool enough to stop at my gate?”

He brushed past you and checked his reflection in the glass hung against the wall.

“Fetch me a tunic and some breeches,” he demanded as he combed his locks and tidied his beard.

Your gaze lingered on him in the mirror; the lines around his eyes were deeper and the silver in his hair foretold of his most recent isolation. Two years had only caused his bitterness to boil over. He looked like a maddened woodsman, not some elegant duke.

He turned as you didn’t move. “Well, you only ever wanted to be my maid, eh?”

You limped over to the wardrobe and retrieved several pieces. You helped him dress and you tried not to think of years before when you’d done the same.

Those last weeks you’d spent in the prison of this chamber, he hadn’t bothered to dress often and he had stripped you of all your layers that first day. He kept you bare and prone, your scars displayed to him as his eyes hung on the stretch marks at your thigh and stomach.

“I will send them away,” he assured, “these lords, they think hospice is offered at any keep.”

He left you and you sat on the bed for a moment as you stared at the door. You were sore all over, numb as you wondered if you were truly still alive. It all felt like a blur, like it could have been the afterlife, an endless purgatory.

You went to the window as you heard him below and the air stilled. You leaned on the stone sill and listened. Lord Barnes’ voice cut through the tension.

“...Parker, you’ve returned… what… else….” his words floated up disjointed as you strained to hear him clearly. His laughter reached you and sent a shiver down your spine. Then it died and the silence returned.

Then you heard another. You recognized Peter’s tones as he spoke sternly. You heard the anger even if you could not decipher his exact words. You watched as Barnes went to the gate and reached through them. He snatched the parchment and dropped it to the dirt. He spat on it and stomped it into the ground.

He waved away the lord outside his gate and spun as he barked orders to his men. You were confused by the unusual scene, more so as you saw the party of men who accompanied Peter retreat from the wall and sink into the cover of the tree line. They carried banners like an official party and kept formation until they were out of sight.

You slipped away from the window and to the bed. Barnes entered as you sat silently. He kicked a stool over and growled. “Wine,” he snarled, “now.”

He sat heavily and his feet splayed out before him as he sighed. You got up and went to the cabinet and uncorked a bottle. You filled a goblet and he took it from you just as roughly as he had the piece of parchment from the men at his gates.

“The boy has returned on some fool’s errand,” Barnes gulped loudly, “you fuck him to?”

You didn’t say anything as he drained the last of the wine and thrust the cup out again. You poured him more and he sniffed it and curled his lip.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve always been mine,” he drank again, “you remember that, don’t you? The way you’ve taken to your former place so easily. You really thought you could escape me?”

“No, my lord,” you said plainly, “I knew I could not. It iss why I threw myself before your horse.”

He stopped his sloppy sipping and whipped the cup across the room so that the wine splashed around you. He stood and neared you, bearing down on you like a wolf. You faced him unflinchingly and waited for him to strike you. He didn’t.

“You’re fortunate I even have the stomach to touch you still. Look at you, scarred and crippled. Used.” He said darkly.

You watched him evenly as he reached to your throat. He squeezed until your breath stopped and his blue eyes focused on his fingers. You did not resist as your head began to pulse. He let you go suddenly and shoved you back towards the bed.

“Well, didn’t damage anything of value, did you?” he sneered, “not those parts of you I require.”

You caught yourself on the bedpost and stared at the mattress. He approached you and you felt his warmth against your back, smelled the alcohol on him.

“That boy will get bored soon enough,” he smacked your ass, “and my sister will not let that warrant stand long enough to be enforced.”

🏰

Everyday Barnes rose and left you to parlay with the men outside his gates. Their interactions were nothing more than mocking laughter and venomous words on his part. But the men outside did not leave. At night, you saw their fires burning beyond the trees and sometimes even heard there voices from the distance.

That day, you watched through the window as Barnes went to the gate. You listened again, the voices quieter than usual and before he stepped back from the bars, he shook them violently. His heel dug into the dirt as he spun around and your heart raced as you watched him march across the cold ground.

You heard him even before he reached the chamber and he flew in a rage. The door hit the wall as he held your cane in his hand and thrust it before you. Naked, stunned, and confused, you blinked at him dumbly. He jabbed you with the silver head bluntly as he bared his teeth.

“Take it. Come with me,” he demanded.

“My l--”

“As you are. I don’t mind taking you to them naked or bloodied, so let us go,” he hissed.

You took the cane from him and leaned on it as he waited for you to precede him through the door. He followed and nudged you along to the winding stairway. You descended slowly as his impatient huffs clouded behind you. When you got to the bottom, he seized your elbow and dragged you across the front hall.

You shivered as you came out into the late autumn morning. Your shame was stifled only by the rising fear in your gut. The guards watched you brazenly as you were forced across the yard and as you neared the gate, you gasped.

Peter stood on the other side with several other men. Among them, you recognized a head of dark hair and they all grew silent as they sensed your movement. Zemo turned and his features hardened as he saw you beside the duke.

“You came all the way here for this wench?” Barnes taunted, “well, that does speak so much. Eh, I think, perhaps, to lose her would be akin to say, well, perhaps losing an arm.”

You stiffened and gripped your cane as you watched Zemo come to the gate. He tore his eyes from you and glared at Barnes.

“You won’t do that. You would have done it long ago if you had the nerve,” he said, “your own king has signed to have you seized. Would you add further dishonour to your name, sir?”

“Dishonour? I have none. I served my kingdom. I do not play at war over the cunt of a maid,” he spat, “I’d sooner have her dead as I thought her all those years.”

“There is no war,” Zemo replied tersely, “you killed a nobleman of your own land. We are not invaders,” he looked at the other men, “you are a traitor.”

“Oh, if you want me, you will have to fight for it,” Barnes scoffed as he pulled you close, “and you might get me in the end, but you won’t get her. I won’t let--”

You swung your cane up and hit Barnes in the ribs. He rasped and his hand fell from your arm. You stepped away from him and went to strike him again but he batted away the stick as he coughed. He ducked under another strike and tripped you with his foot so that you landed on your back.

As he came to stand over you, you flipped up the end of your can and hit him between his legs. He croaked and grasped his crotch as he stumbled back. You grunted and pushed yourself back up to your feet with your cane. You struck him again across the shoulder but he surprised you by latching onto the end of the stick and thrusting you off-kilter.

You heard a clatter at the gates and voices shouting. You were too enthralled with your fight for your life to look over and see why the guards were yelling and running all around. You only expected to be accosted by one of Barnes’ men before you could gain your foothold.

You struggled with him and clung to the silver head of the cane. He pulled you closer and closer as you tried to turn it and you felt the subtle shift. He stumbled back as the bottom came loose and he hit the dirt. He landed with a thump and a rattled breath as the air was knocked from him.

You didn’t think, only moved as you lunged onto him and brought down the pointed steel. The long blade sank into his right shoulder and he screamed in agony. You watched the pain contort his face and you twisted the dagger. His voice grew louder but he could not move his arm to get you off of him.

You pulled the dagger from his flesh but before you could bring it down again, he lifted his pelvis and forced you off of him. He rolled away from you as he groaned and grunted and you got to your knees as you gripped the knife tighter and prepared for your second attack.

You were shocked as Barnes was kicked onto his back once more and a foot planted itself in the middle of his chest. His tunic was stained with blood as he gritted his teeth and writhed and moaned. He did not resist as he was held down by Peter’s boot and a sword was pointed at his throat.

“We promised the king we’d bring you in alive,” Peter declared, “you’ve fared well enough without one arm. What’s another?”

You winced as a hand closed around yours and kept you from striking out at your accoster. You looked over as Zemo knelt beside you and wiggled the knife free. He handed it off to one of his men but never glanced away from you. He nodded and as he untied his cloak and draped it over your shoulders.

“Elina?” you whispered.

“Safe,” he assured as he covered you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “I never did have the chance to introduce you to my mother.”

“What--How--” you peered around as the armored guards handed over their weapons to the lords in their colours.

“Your countrymen do not take well to their nobles murdering each other so carelessly. The king could not but listen or risk a rebellion,” he explained as he sat back and drew you into his lap, “We bring your king his prisoner and he forgives our diplomatic oversight and our kingdoms will sign the long-awaited accord.”

“It can’t-- I--”

“Lord Rogers was also listed on the warrant,” he cradled your face, “but he was never one to face consequences. We have Astrens but its duke has conveniently made himself sparse.” He swallowed as his thumb caressed your cheek, “Nevertheless, we needn’t worry about him…” he pulled you closer to him and his breath skimmed along your lips, “You really are bold, you know? You kiss a man and just walk out on him.”

You closed your eyes as tears pricked along your lashes. You let yourself smile as you opened them again and you let him close the space between your lips. You kissed him down in the cold dirt, with blood on your hands, naked and bruised. You kissed him and forgot it all. You kissed him and thought of the future as your past laid sobbing in the mud.

🏰 🏰 🏰

So we leave reader to live her life with her daughter. To ride off into the proverbial sunlight but an end is never really an end, as even those characters who exist only in our minds, live on there. I hope that every now and then, you will revisit this MC, Barnes, Zemo, Peter, Sam, Rebecca, and yes, even Rogers.

🏰 🏰 🏰

End Note: I have not yet decided if I will add an epilogue to this series but for now, I am content. Thank you again. Be safe and take care of yourselves.

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cappymightwrite · 3 years

Note

Hi! I loved your blue rose meta. I wanted to ask you that Sansa had sexually assaulted in books and threatened with rape many times. How do you think it gonna be acknowledge in last two books? Will Sansa gonna be safe from rape just like she was in last books?

Thank you! (Meta in question) Sorry for the very late response 😅

This topic isn't generally one I like to speculate on much. I cannot stress how much the s5 storyline upset me, so much so that I really can't read any fics that reference it, or count it as canon, no matter how sensitively written. Likewise, I don't really like to dwell on Jeyne's assaults too much either, though I'm strongly Justice For Jeyne. I just don't like to be in that headspace.

But anyway. I can talk about it a bit for the purposes of this ask.

Obviously, the threat of assault is certainly always there throughout Sansa's narrative, as mentioned by @butterflies-dragons, notably in the use of songs. But as butterflies-dragons concludes, and as stated by @agentrouka-blog, I tend to agree that "I do not think that Sansa is going to suffer any assault worse than she already has." Because what purpose does it serve at this point? It wouldn't be subversive in any way to have the most romantically inclined girl r*ped at this point in the narrative, in fact it would be pretty redundant thematically because Sansa has already had the rug pulled out from under her in terms of her disillusionment arc. She's already been assaulted, several times in fact, and is currently being assaulted and groomed by Littlefinger. Furthermore, the reader has also had the point hammered home through the horrific Jeyne Poole storyline. It's unnecessary, quite frankly. It would be a waste of a word count to emphasise a point — that no one, particularly young, naive girls, are safe from violence, including sexual violence — that has already been very firmly asserted from multiple perspectives and POVs.

So, while I think TWOW will certainly take us to darker places than ever before, I think it would be a grave and gratuitous misstep if GRRM chose to include an escalation of the kind of assaults Sansa has already suffered. Look, I'm sure TWOW (and ADOS) won't be entirely devoid of sexual assault, but at least for both Stark girls (I did worry a bit after reading Arya's Winds chapter), I don't think it needs to be escalated. And that's not just me projecting my own wants for their respective arcs, objectively speaking, I don't think it's needed. I don't think it adds anything that we don't already know.

But back to Sansa specifically. Do I think those previous moments of abuse will be addressed/referred to? I think in order for Sansa to heal... yes. I think they will certainly be addressed in the sense that, when they inevitably reunite, Jon and his behaviour (in general and towards Sansa) will be presented to us (and Sansa) as a clear contrast. Being presented with contrasting, non-abusive behaviour will be key to having that reflection on past events expressed, I think.

This fits in to Jon and Sansa being the true subversion of the beauty and the beast trope. And subversion is the key word, because a note for note copy of that trope is not healthy, it's not without abuse. The difference with Jon as the beast, compared with pretty much all other iterations of the trope, compared with the Hound as well, is that Jon hasn't had, and will not have, this problematic character development from cruel and violent to supposedly tamed by love into something more "gentle." Thanks to Jon's pov, we know exactly who he is, and while I do expect post-warg/resurrection Jon to go through some angsty cosmic alienation and to become fully steeped in Byronic traits... he's not going to be cruel to Sansa only to be gentled by her virginal influence, because like I said, contrasts are going to be key. Jon needs to be presented as a contrast to all the awful men prior to him in Sansa's arc in order for us and her to have the tools for some solid reflection/realisation, not as contrast to his earlier untamed behaviour, if that makes sense?

So really, this is why Jonsa is so crucial to Sansa's arc, her healing process, and her reclaimation of self. And vice versa. We know that Sansa suppressed and romanticises her trauma in order to cope, and I think it will be painful for her to have to confront the reality of certain traumatic moments, e.g. that the Hound really did intend to r*pe her that night on the Blackwater, that Tyrion wasn't just "as frightened as [she was]" on their wedding night, he was the adult in that situation and he wanted to r*pe her too and did also assault her. Those are going to be painful truths to face, a headspace and recollections she will understandably not want to be in or have, as evidenced through her avoidance of the reality of these events thus far in the series. But they are necessary to address and crucially she won't be without support. Because Jon as a contrast to these men isn't a passive, inactive thing, he isn't a contrast to their behaviour soley through what he doesn't do, but also through what he does.

In ADWD, Davos IV, Wyman Manderly comments that "not every man has it in him to be Prince Aemon the Dragonknight or Symeon Star-Eyes, and not every woman can be as brave as my Wylla and her sister Wynafryd," which is true, but that doesn't exclude the possibility of a person like that appearing all together, does it 😉😏

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me." – AGOT, Sansa III

Thanks for the ask! Again, apologies for the delay 😅

#cappy's thoughts #jonsa #jon x sansa #tw: assault #twow speculation #this has been in my drafts for so long 😅😵

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trisshawkeye · 4 years

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I'm a little hesitant to weigh in on the discourse going around, since I can't speak to the Chinese LGBTQ+ experience, but what I can speak to is one of the reasons why a queer person might find the nature of the sex scenes in MDZS, and in particular the extras, interesting and relatable to their experience as a queer person.

First off I want to stress that YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THE MDZS EXTRAS. In fact, if you think they might be triggering or upsetting to you, or just not your cup of tea, then just don't read them. You don't need to read them to enjoy everything else MDZS has to offer. Indeed, if any of the following would wig you out—slightly dub-con kissing, misunderstandings around a sexual encounter due to each party thinking the other didn't want it in the same way they did, an inexperienced couple figuring out what they like and finding out that includes mild consent-play—then maybe you might want to skip the scenes in the main novel too. It's okay to have preferences and for those preferences to not include that. If you don't want to read those sections, then I'm not gonna judge you, don't read them. There is plenty else to enjoy. Look after yourself first!

Okay, with that out the way, I'd like to talk to you a little bit about shame and sexual fantasy.

While not written to this particular audience at all, Lan Wangji is a painfully relatable character for a certain type of gifted queer kid growing up in conservative Evangelical Christian spaces. The combination of having a strict, rule-based moral code one is expected to follow, and being held up as a well-behaved, good example to others from a young age, both in terms of pseudo-academic achievement and in terms of following of said moral code, and then finding yourself and your worldview becoming increasingly incompatible with the code you are trying to live by, is one that really fucks you up. Lan Wangji is a character laser-targeted at my own set up of hang-ups and neuroses, oh boy. I love him so much and want him to be happy.

And to be fair, that's not to say the Gusu Lan sect rules are bad per se, and characters such as Lan Xichen show that it is possible to have a different relationship with them such that they inform your behaviour but still allow for flexibility and compromise. But Lan Wangji definitely strikes me as someone who took rule-following deep into his own sense of identity, and that gets very messy for him when he starts questioning how to handle moral quandaries that the rules can't easily address by themselves, or finds himself trying to follow them in a way that conflicts with how the rest of his sect are doing so.

So when this kind of strict moral purity forms a big part of your identity, and then you suddenly get attracted to someone 'inappropriate' (or indeed, anyone at all as a horny teenager who’s supposed to behave themselves), your new and growing sense of desire runs smack bang into your existential need to be someone who is Good(TM), who follows the rules, who wouldn't in their right mind to anything that contradicts them. You can't just dream soft dreams about sneaking away to kiss your crush and you both enjoying it, because even that is shameful, it's wrong, it flies in the face of everything you're supposed to be and you'd never do that. And so one way for your mind to get around this is for your fantasies to take a darker turn, to imagine that you were pushed beyond all reasonable human limits, that you lost all control, that you were drugged or manipulated, that the other person took advantage of you or somehow provoked you into assaulting them, and that way you can sort of excuse yourself, you can imagine yourself in that situation because at least then it wasn't really your fault, you can kind of keep your internal sense of identity consistent. But now you've imagined you're in that situation and you have that 'excuse', you have a kind of free rein to act out the things you want to do and it doesn't really 'count'. And all the while you're entirely aware that this is a fucked up fantasy, that it would be unforgivable if you did such a thing or such a thing was done to you in real life, and now you're worried that even imagining such a thing is a failure of your moral character, and it builds into a destructive cycle of shame and self-loathing, and it's just a real mess all round.

Now, I think this is something that Lan Wangji worked through and came out the other side of, and he was no longer ashamed of his desire for Wei Wuxian by the time he came back in the body of Mo Xuanyu (and probably even by the time of the first siege of the Burial Mounds, though it was far too late at that point). But for a sixteen-year-old Lan Wangji to have these violent fantasies about being provoked into raping Wei Wuxian because that was the only way he could imagine himself in a situation in which he could express that desire? And then later in life finding out that consent-play holds some appeal? Yeah, I can see that, I can relate to it.

And so in the incense burner chapter? When it becomes clear they're visiting one of Lan Wangji's teenage fantasies, especially right after the adorably domestic scene that is Wei Wuxian's dream, he is absolutely embarrassed by it, he's mortified—it's obvious he still considers it to be shameful and would honestly rather Wei Wuxian didn't see this side of himself so clearly, although he loves and trusts Wei Wuxian enough not to hide it from him when he says wants to stay. And then, when Wei Wuxian sees where it's going, and finds it hilarious and honestly kinda hot, knowing that it is just a fantasy, and one that meshes well with his own consensual-non-consent kinks to boot, you know what? It's a relief! It's an honest-to-goodness relief and entirely delightful to me that he turns around and basically says, hey, it's okay, this doesn't make you a bad person, you don't have to be ashamed of this, I love you, I'm enjoying this too, I want to see where this goes, let's have sex!

Because none of this does make Lan Wangji a bad person—none of these fantasies were acted upon except for one intensely-regretted kiss (and then only really regretted on his own part), and then later in the context of entirely consensual, mutually enjoyable sex as adults between him and Wei Wuxian. And being able to revisit those fantasies and take away the shame he's associated with them all this time is probably pretty healing for him!

Like I said at the start, you don't have to read these chapters. They were not written for you personally, and you are not the target audience for them. If you're going to be at all distressed by the content then I actively encourage you not to read them, it would be a form of emotional self-harm to do so. It's not like you're missing out on anything important (or even very well-written, if I'm being honest, particularly once it's gone through the mangle of a translation that I don't personally think handles the nuances of the smut scenes very well, from what I can gather from various pieces of discussion about it). It's totally fine if you find these kinks unpleasant and don't want to touch them with a barge pole! But that doesn't make having or writing or enjoying these kinks or fantasies somehow morally wrong—it's not shameful, it's not homophobic, and please, please stop accusing the author or fans of being so just because you don't personally like it. Because you’re just reinforcing the shame-based, purity-based thinking that screws so many of us up in the first place.

(Aside: I’m not saying this is necessarily the correct way to interpret Lan Wangji’s character and motivations with respect to these scenes, since I too am a Westerner coming at all this material through the veil of translation and with very little understanding of its surrounding literary context—I’m more describing how, from my own experience as a young repressed religious queer, I found myself vibing a lot with this character and his relationship with sexual desire.)

#lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs discourse #cw rape mention #in the context of discussing rape fantasies #and why one might have them #and in the context of a chapter in which a rape fantasy is observed but no one is actually raped #ugh i already feel like i'm oversharing please don't make me regret posting this #this is just like the don't consume horror if you don't like it discourse goin on over in the tma fandom all over again #mdzs meta

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