#how much she would have felt for him in regard to his own abuse and wanted to help him and what a role that in of itself would have played | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purple-babygirl · 3 months

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my bucky?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x f!reader (reader is little in the very beginning)

Word count: 7,390

Summary: Bucky's angel finally sees the hidden side of him.

Warnings: details of violence, kidnapping, getting shot, physical abuse by kidnappers, slapping, too much crying, angst

A/N: to all the nonnies that came to me once and asked "what if angel saw bucky beating someone up?" "what if angel gets kidnapped?", this is for you💜 i hope you have a good time with this one, loves x💜

Whenever he’d think of her, he’d think of jasmines. Soft, fragrant, pure-looking, fragile, beautiful jasmines. Like jasmines, she released her sweet perfume engulfed by the darkness of his night. Only he got to bask in her aroma. And like a jasmine in autumn, he’d fallen for her evergreen soul and he’d fallen hard.

Bucky knew she saw him through a pink lens. She ate up his lies like candy and although he felt bad, he knew it was for the best. He could visibly see her running out the door whenever he’d imagine someone opening her eyes to how cruel he actually was. It was selfish, but it was easier for him and safer for her this way. Better for both of them.

Luck wasn’t exactly his best friend though.

Bucky would never forget the look in her innocent, teary eyes as she watched him literally beat the life out of a man with all his might. He knew it was fairly stupid of him to do it in the back of his own garage, right next to his house where she was peacefully getting ready to call it a night. But he just couldn’t hold back when he saw the guy’s dumb face when his men brought him in.

“Miss?” She found Roseanne by the door, looking more nervous than usual.

She was shocked, no, terrified at the scene she couldn’t take her eyes away from. How and why was she even here in the first place?

Daddy said he’d be back for story time but he hasn’t been back yet. What was taking him so long?

She couldn’t fall asleep if his voice wasn’t lolling her to sleep. She couldn’t fall asleep if it wasn’t in his arms. Life without him just didn’t make sense anymore.

She got out of bed, slipped in her fluffy cat slippers and went on a little quest to find him. Bucky was always happy to see her so he’d forgive her for getting out of bed where he’d expected her to wait.

“Roseanne, have you seen my Bucky?” she asked with a smile.

“I think he’s busy right now, miss. You better wait in your room where it’s warm,” Roseanne tried to tempt her, using the cold as a good reason why she shouldn’t go outside where Bucky was.

The young woman looked distressed, like she was scared of something.

“What’s wrong, Roseanne? Is daddy okay?” she questioned the poor maid, her smile leaving her face.

“Yes, miss. Don’t worry. He’s just a little busy but he’ll be here soon.”

“Is he in the office?”

“I— I don’t know, miss. I think he is,” Roseanne lied.

She tilted her head suspiciously before running to the office to check it out, leaving Roseanne’s pleads for her to get back to the bedroom behind.

It seemed even more suspicious now that Bucky was nowhere to be seen in his office. It didn’t feel right and she had to find Bucky and make sure he was okay. Bucky always knew how to calm all her worries. He knew what to do and what to say.

Bucky protects her and is here for her.

But wait a minute, she didn’t hear his car leave. And if the car didn’t leave then Daddy was certainly in the house, she just missed him while looking.

She roamed the whole mansion, up and down, checking every room twice and she still couldn’t find her daddy.

Her mind was getting cloudier and she was getting more scared. Did daddy leave? Where would he go without letting her know that he’d be leaving? Why didn’t he kiss her forehead goodnight before leaving?

She made her way outside the main door and took sure steps to the large garage, once again taking no regard of Roseanne’s begging, confident in her smart train of thought.

When she arrived at the garage though, the pants she heard startled her to a halt as she ducked behind the black Range Rover.

Was that really Bucky? Her Bucky? Beating up a man to the point where his features weren’t recognizable anymore? That wasn’t possible. Her daddy was a sweetheart. He was the gentlest man she’s ever met and he wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. She knew he was feared because of his work, but he couldn’t kill anyone. Could he?

She peeked around and fell silent as a rock. The sight before her made her feel cold, leaving her poor mind perplexed.

On the first look, she couldn’t fathom what she was looking at. She wanted to look away. She did. But she couldn’t will her head to turn even just a little.

“How stupid do you have to be to think I wouldn’t know you were sent here to hurt my girl?”

A stronger pang hit her little heart when she realized this was happening because of her.

No, this was no bad dream though she’d hoped with all her heart that it was.

She’d made Daddy promise that he wouldn’t hurt anybody on her behalf. He’d promised to choose forgiveness if it was an option. It didn’t make any sense.

Was she too sleepy that she was seeing things? Did her little mind fall asleep without a story anyway and she was having a nightmare?

Sam had seen her first, wide eyes tearing up at the sight of her man smashing another’s face with his fist. He’d tried to tell Bucky, but it was too late. She’d already seen it all.

Those fingers that have ever so tenderly glided across her cheeks time and time again were hidden behind brass knuckles, covered in someone’s blood. That jaw that has only ever tensed from smiling too much around her was clenched, making him look scarier than she could’ve ever imagined him to be. His eyebrows were furrowed and his breaths heavy as he repeatedly and ruthlessly punched the man on the chair.

Her fear intensified when she’d recognized the beaten up man as their newest driver. She remembered him trying to repeatedly ask her if she wanted to go get ice cream with him when Bucky wasn’t home. She also remembered saying no like she was taught. She remembered Bucky promising to choose forgiveness if it was an option again and she saw him break his promise.

“Bucky, enough!” Sam pulled him away from the tied up guy, head nodding to the black vehicle.

Her head went dizzy when she thought of all the men she’d complained to Bucky about since they’d started their relationship. Have they all faced the same fate?

Who was this heaving, bloody-fisted beast before her? Did she ever know Bucky at all? Was he ever truthful about anything he’d told her or was it all just a big lie? How could she trust him with herself ever again? Who was her daddy really?

The walls around Bucky collapsed and he almost collapsed with them when he saw her face. She was there and she’d seen everything. His angel saw it all. His angel was scared. She was scared of him.

“Angeră?”

Her legs no longer wanted to hold her up once she heard his hoarse voice. The air was out of her lungs as she took slow steps back until she pressed herself to one of the grey walls behind her. The stuffie in her hands fell to the ground and with it her heart.

She wanted to run, but her cold body wouldn’t budge. Maybe if she could go back to the house right now, listen to Roseanne, stay in bed, and pretend this never happened, Bucky would miraculously come back with a perfectly healed, clean hand and they would peacefully have a cuddling session while his loving voice told her a story.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, her voice above a whisper as she cowered away from him.

Bucky carefully walked closer, visibly watching her hands tremble. He raised his clean hand to caress her cheek like he always would when she needed him to calm her down.

He wasn’t expecting her to lean into his touch like she was used to, but it still shot daggers to his heart when she flinched, closing her eyes in fear and letting out the tiniest whimper.

“Angel, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Bucky’s broken voice had her heart clenching as she saw him trying to muster up a smile.

“Stay away from me,” she said in panic when he tried to take another step towards her.

“Angeră—”

“Please, Bucky, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t call him daddy or even her Bucky. She couldn’t.

“Baby, let me—”

She shook her head, running away from a shattered Bucky, almost tripping on her own feet.

“Go, we’ll take care of him,” Sam told him, patting his shoulder.

He watched her run as if she was escaping a wild lion, terrified and fearing for her life.

Bucky slammed his fist into the concrete wall where his love once leaned before slipping the brass knuckles off his probably broken fingers and hearing them clank on the ground. He rested both palms on the wall and let his head fall down as he breathed hard.

“Dragă, nu! Te rog, (love, no please)” Bucky begged, his hands grabbing her forearms to stop her from throwing more of her things into the suitcase.

Bucky ran like a mad man on the way to their house. He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to justify what she’d just witnessed him do.

She called him Bucky with glossed over eyes. She was bordering on little and he just gave her the trauma of her life. He had no answers to any possible question she might rightfully throw at him. Bucky only knew that he couldn’t lose her; she was the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He busted through the front door and ran up the stairs only to be met with her frantically packing her things, fat tears soaking her face as she hiccupped out sobs.

“Please let me leave.” Her voice trembled and more tears left her eyes. His right hand had dried blood all over it and it made her skin crawl.

“Please don’t,” Bucky pleaded again, on the verge of crying himself.

“I’m really scared. Please don’t make me stay here,” she begged Bucky, trying to slip out of his grip.

“Angel, please believe me. I will never hurt you,” Bucky swore, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Angel, of course I love you! Please just stay and listen to me, baby.” Tears rolled down Bucky’s cheeks as he took a dress out of her hands before she could pack it.

“Did you ever really love me? Would you really never hurt me? Was anything you ever told me the truth?” Her voice was way too innocent as the questions left her trembling lips.

She didn’t even sound like she was blaming Bucky, she just sounded confused. Disappointed. Hurt.

“I wanna leave. Please let me leave,” she repeated, crying harder as she tried not to let herself crumble down on the floor of their bedroom.

“Angel, please don’t say that.” Bucky shook his head, holding onto her writs for dear life, “I can’t live without you, love. I can’t.”

She looked up at him and the look she gave him let him know she wasn’t little anymore.

Bucky despised himself for making her feel and think that way, “angel—”

“Why did you ever take me? Why did you bring me here?” She asked, the reproach hurting her too, “I didn’t know what love was before you. I trusted you. I trusted you with my heart, Bucky.”

She was saying everything that came to her mind, unable to keep her thoughts inside or else it felt like they might suffocate her. She was mad at herself for letting herself trust and love when she shouldn’t have.

“Are you used to doing this to people? Do you kill people, Bucky?” Her voice broke as she asked, already fearing the answer.

“Angel, please.”

“No, answer me.” Her eyebrows furrowed in sadness, anxious of the reply she was about to receive.

Bucky closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face when he told her his truth, “yes.”

“Yes.” Bucky nodded, hot tears leaving his closed eyes.

Her breath hitched at his answer, making more tears leave his eyes.

“D-Did you do this to the other guys I complained about before, too?”

“Did you kill them?” Her tone fell with her heart.

Bucky only swallowed, going dead silent at her question.

“Oh my god.” She cried, her knees almost giving out as she tried to get her arms free from his grip.

“No, no, angel, I only drove them out of town. They’re alive.” He assured her, leaving out the details about the probable permanent disabilities some of them left town with.

“Why?” She sobbed, her shoulders hurting from squirming in his grasp with no avail.

“They were bothering you.”

“So this makes it okay to kidnap them and beat them up?!” She screamed, her tears never drying up.

“I wanted to protect you,” Bucky whispered, his heart dropping at the realization of how his angel must see him now.

“Protect me from you then and let me go.” Her words shot daggers right into the mafia boss’ chest.

“I can’t believe I loved you so much.” She whispered, mostly to herself, lamenting her foolish, trusting heart.

“Angel, I can’t. You know I can’t.” He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let her leave.

She was his whole world; his life and everything good in it.

“Loved?” Bucky could hear his heart shattering.

“Loved,” she replied despite herself, knowing too well that she was lying.

Bucky finally let her arms go after her confirmation. He knew that if he tried to hold her back now she would only end up hating him. He would rather have her leave him than hate him. He wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I’ll tell the driver to get the car ready so he could take you to your grandma’s,” Bucky told her without looking up, wiping away his tears. For now.

She didn’t reply, and only continued shoving clothes into the bag.

“I just want you to know that I’ll always be here whenever you need me. I will always be yours, angel. Even if you’re no longer mine. I love you and I will love you until the day I die.”

But all of this was nothing compared to the fear that shot up her spine when she heard gunshots making contact with the car she was inside, forcing the driver to stop abruptly.

Bucky’s last words had her sobbing even harder as she fell to her knees the moment he left her alone in the room.

She didn’t want to leave him and she never saw a day like this one coming, but she knew it was only right that she did. They were different from the beginning and she was wrong to let herself live in a daydream for too long. She had no place in Bucky’s world.

The drive back to her grandma’s house was torture. The pain of being fooled could only be overruled by the pain of fearing the only man she’s ever loved. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that she was leaving a piece of her behind in the mansion that the car just drove away from. She knew that piece was her heart and she knew that she was most likely never going to get it back. It will forever remain with Bucky.

Her tears kept coming as she silently wept in the backseat.

Pathetic fallacy was at its highest and the skies were sobbing with her. It was cold and the roads were muddy, thunder hitting every now and then, making trees shudder where they were rooted.

She cried more knowing Bucky would no longer be there to hold her through thunderstorms.

The man and the guard next to him got out their own guns but it was too late for them to do anything as another couple of bullets were shot, going right through their heads. The driver fell lifeless, face first on the driving wheel and she felt her heart stop with his.

“Let me go for your own good,” she said, trying to keep her tone confident and her pain veiled.

Before she could even think of a route to run in, a bag was put over her head, her screams futile as she got violently dragged to another vehicle before it all went completely dark with a hit to the back of her head.

“I thought we were past that shit, babygirl. Three days didn’t teach you who’s in charge yet?” Lloyd Hansen, Bucky’s biggest enemy, asked her with a provocative smile.

She was in absolute agony.

She let oud a loud, pained scream, desperately trying to pull her arm from underneath his huge shoe.

They’d untied her an hour ago after she claimed she needed the bathroom, a guard on her tail as he led her through the abandoned building.

Once inside the toilet, she managed to pick up the upper part of the toilet seat. She gained the guard’s attention with a scream, going down on his head with the heavy ceramic piece as soon as he opened the door to check on her.

She managed to run as far as the hallway of the floor she was in before a very angry Lloyd grabbed her. She surprised him with a harsh slap across the face, taking the chance to run again when he froze for a second.

Lloyd got even angrier, stretching his leg and knocking one of her feet off the ground, making her fall over. He walked over her crawling body and evilly stepped on her right wrist.

“I can’t wait to kill you,” Lloyd said, not taking his foot off before he heard a snap and a loud screech from her.

Lloyd got hold of her hair, dragging her all the way back to the room where she was previously tied up.

He tied her to the same chair again, only this time one arm got the ropes while the other was left to redden and swell.

Now she was here, on the same chair, throwing empty threats as she’s almost given up hope that Bucky might find her.

“Aww, did you hear that, boys? Little slut right here is worried for our good,” Lloyd mocked her, laughter erupting and filling the room in response.

“You’re not getting out of here, babygirl,” he spat, his voice laced with venom, “this is where you die.”

“Let me go. I won’t say it again.” Her voice almost shivered with her heart at the end of her warning.

She was scared, and in so much pain, but she couldn’t let it show. She wouldn't even cry and was sweating like crazy from the ache in her dangling wrist. She was Bucky Barnes’ girl.

“You’re making the demands now? Not even a “please” to persuade me?” Lloyd moved his face closer to hers, slowly pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a smirk, “or do I have to heat you a bottle to get to meet your polite side?”

She felt her face go hot as her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t stop herself from spitting in the bastard’s face, “fuck you”.

Next thing she knew was his rough hand slapping down hard on her cheek, making her go dizzy. Blood trickled out of her nose and down to her lips right after and she couldn’t hold back her tears this time.

She was tired. Terrified. She needed Bucky.

“Your filthy mouth isn’t anything short of your boyfriend’s, but don’t worry, if you don’t know how to be respectful to your masters I have ways to teach you, and believe me, I can’t wait to start your lessons.” Hansen smirked at her wrist before spitting back at her and leaving with everyone else.

She cried harder than she has ever before, tears and blood mixing. Her body was shivering and her arms aching from being tied up in the most uncomfortable position and smashed down under Lloyd’s boot.

There was no way out for here, was there?

She knew she was done for and she didn’t have any last wishes except for getting to tell Bucky that she loved him and that she will never stop loving him one last time.

She couldn’t even pay her pain or blood any attention when all she could think about was Bucky and how he would have never let anything like that happen to her.

She remembered his soft smile that only she got to meet. The way he’d lean forward to engulf her in a hug momentarily warmed her before the iciness of the empty room made her shiver again.

She didn’t dare linger on Bucky, however.

It’s been exactly 3 days and 21 hours since his angel left him and he still couldn’t believe it.

She left him. She left and now she was here in some old factory under some asshole’s mercy. She couldn’t escape the situation she was in no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t give her mind any kind of relief. There was none. Before she realized, her head was falling forward and she was getting a temporary break from reality.

“Bucky, are you o—” Sam cut himself off when his sight landed on his best friend’s face.

Bucky’s eyes were red with yet to be shed tears, again.

His car never reached her grandma’s because his men were murdered on the way. His angel was no where to be found and neither was Bucky’s will to live.

He kept telling himself that it wasn’t true, that she was at work; that she would eventually come back and sleep in his arms again.

However, she didn’t even call. Didn’t even look at his multiple texts. She really was missing and Bucky couldn’t face it. Between denial and heart wrenching pain, he buried himself 9 feet under.

He’s looked everywhere, asked everyone, but still couldn’t find her. It was as if she’s disappeared, turned to air.

Bucky has deserted their bedroom ever since she walked out of the mansion, the bed still as messy as she left it after she dragged the sheets down with her packed bag. Every time Bucky would enter the room he would see her leaving him, so he’d stopped. That couldn’t be his last memory of her. He slept on the couch in his office now, if at all.

And soon enough, the Bucky he used to be when she was around was dead and another angrier, more violent and very impatient Bucky had replaced him. He was always mad, at everyone and everything. And he was drinking every night, sitting on his bar for as long as he could, just to get himself hammered enough to fall in a deep unconsciousness where he didn’t have her scared eyes invading his dreams.

Sam was seriously worried for him, but there was nothing he could do; no advice he could offer. Nothing would bring that Bucky back as long as his angel was gone.

Bucky’s wallowing and Sam’s overthinking were interrupted when Bucky’s phone rang, vibrating on the ceramic floor. Bucky quickly crawled over to it, hardly believing his eyes when he saw her name in the place of the caller ID.

“Angeră?” he answered, his voice hoarse from staying silent for too long.

“Awww, you call her angel?” the voice on the other side mocked.

“Who the fuck is this?” Bucky asked, standing up slowly as his anger and worry forced him to sober up.

“You know too damn well who this is,” Lloyd answered, his smile evident in his tone as he knew he had Bucky by the throat.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked immediately.

“Tied up somewhere cold.”

“I swear on my life, if you touch her—”

“Relax, she can take a few scratches,” he replied, chuckling as if it was a joke.

“You son of a bitch!” Bucky shouted, losing his mind at the mere image of his angel being hurt.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Barnes,” he snarled confidently.

“What do you want?” Bucky asked through his teeth, just wanting to get to his girl as quickly as possible.

“Let me hear her voice.”

“No,” Lloyd chuckled.

“I wanna destroy you.” Hansen laughed.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Bucky tried his best not to sound desperate but it was obvious that he was begging for his girl’s safety.

“That’s where you’re wrong, B. She has everything to do with this.” Lloyd walked into the room where she was with a smug smile.

“Let her go.” please

“If you sound so distraught just because I’d hogged her for a couple of days, imagine how you’ll be when I erase her off the face of the earth,” Hansen said, laughing at the thought of hurting Bucky this bad.

Her face toughened up at the realization that it was Bucky on the phone.

“If you do as much as touch a hair on her head, I’m gonna kill you and everyone you know,” Bucky promised, his heart hammering in his chest as he hastily started moving.

“I might’ve broken a bone or two, but that’s only because she was a bad girl.”

“You’re dead, Hansen. Fucking dead!” Bucky promised, throwing the bottle he was drinking from across the room.

“We’ll be waiting with popcorn.” He hung up on Bucky, laughing.

“He’s gonna kill you.” She smiled once he hung up, making Lloyd grab her hair.

She hissed, trying not to show she was in pain.

“Not if I kill him first, angeră.” Lloyd spat, throwing her head forward before leaving the room.

She was horrified at the thought of anything bad happening to Bucky, but she willed her heart to trust in him. She had no time to ponder but she was actually proud of the fact that Bucky could so easily end this awful, evil man and she couldn’t wait for him to do just that.

Still, she waited for him. Something inside of her told her Bucky would never abandon her, not even to death. So she waited. Waited with the longing of all the lovers that ever were until longing had exhausted her.

It was like a slow motion dream. Doors being kicked down, guns being fired and her Bucky entering the room with a man’s body held in his left fist by the neck.

Instead, Bucky found Hansen and smacked him so hard with his metal hand that a tooth flew out. He slapped him again and his nose was bleeding. They made eye contact one more time and she noticed the difference for the first time. That wasn’t Bucky. It wasn’t her Bucky. His eyes still softened for her but the hint of revenge in them was more dominant.

He doesn’t even talk; doesn’t negotiate. He doesn’t even ask for her to be released. He doesn’t need to.

His men were getting everything done. His only mission was to look for her now. His eyes met hers but he didn’t start walking towards her like she’d expected he would.

She thought she would be afraid meeting Bucky again after what she’d witnessed him do, but she actually didn’t. Not even a tiny bit.

She was rather happy, the feeling that she was safe again warming up her body so much that she’d started sobbing.

It was like no matter how long they were away from each other, they were still together, never estranged from one another.

Bucky was on his 40th slap/punch on the man’s bloody face when he noticed her crying. He temporarily threw the man’s tired body on the ground and rushed to his girl.

He kneeled before her shaking body, wanting nothing but to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

And she was.

She looked up and could still see the coldness in his eyes despite hers being blurred by tears.

“I missed you. Is my Bucky okay?” She asked, her voice drained but not scared like Bucky had feared and expected.

“Let’s get you home, angeră,” he replied, saving his answer for now as he noticed the finger marks on her cheek.

She nodded desperately, her tied hand reaching for him despite being behind her back.

“Stop right there,” Lloyd said, crocking his gun at Bucky.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, eyes glued to her man, her anchor.

“E în regulă, angera meu, (it’s okay, my angel)" Bucky replied, getting closer to her and sticking to her side.

“No, it’s not. He’s lying to you. Just like he’s lied to you about everything else,” the man chuckled.

“Shut up,” she whispered, trying to calm down her breathing.

“Give it up, Hansen. I beat you. Again and for the last time. You’re done.” Bucky racked the slide of his gun.

“He never loved you. Do you even know who he is most of the time?” Lloyd continued, not willing to give up until Bucky was reduced to nothing before him.

“Shut up,” she repeated, wishing her hands were free so that she could cover her ears with them.

“Do you have any idea about the other side of this man you gave yourself to you poor little thin—”

“Shut up!” She shouted with all her might, “don’t speak about him like that.”

“Do you even know what you’re defending?” Hansen yelled at her with a crazy, bloody smile on his face.

“I know,” she answered calmly, “I know everything.”

Bucky looked at her in surprise, not believing what he just heard. There was no way she knew. How would she know? How would she choose to stay if she actually knew?

“Oh so you know about frosty over here?” Hansen smirked, pointing to his head.

“That’s enough, Hansen,” Bucky warned, barely controlling himself.

“I do,” she answered once more, her answer shocking Bucky yet again.

“Angel?”

“It’s okay, Bucky. I promise.” She sincerely promised, making it hard for Bucky not to tear up in the middle of the room.

“Aww, how sweet—” Hansen cooed and in a second 3 of Bucky’s bullets were in his head, neck and chest before he could say anything else.

She gasped, closing her eyes and turning her face away from the body as it collapsed on the floor with a thud.

She didn’t notice that Hansen had landed a shot at Bucky before he collapsed and Bucky didn’t even flinch as a bullet literally made it through his right shoulder. He didn’t feel the pain. He didn’t care about anything but his angel.

She was the only thing he could see and hear. Her wounds were his pain more than his own.

Bucky wordlessly kneeled down and untied her quickly. His gaze was glued to her wrists for a second before he rubbed the one that wasn’t swollen with his smoother thumb.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, referring to her other wrist.

“I'm gonna need a doctor to look at it.” Was all she gave him for an answer.

He silently opened his arms for her and she threw herself in them without an ounce of hesitation, crying more now that she was home.

She was so scared she wouldn’t get to feel like this again. She let herself let go. She then closed her eyes and finally succumbed to the cozy darkness now that she was safe.

Instead, Roseanne looked at her with a teary smile, “welcome back, miss.”

She lost all sense of consciousness that she didn’t hear Bucky shoot the man’s dead body a fourth and a fifth time with her in his arms as he took another look at her wrists.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Bucky’s bed, but Bucky wasn’t by her side.

“Roseanne, I missed you so much,” she replied, unable to stop her own tears.

“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Roseanne said, breaking the hug to let her rest her back.

She invited Roseanne for a hug with her good arm as she noticed the other was in what looked like a cast.

Lloyd had broken her wrist.

“Mr. Barnes is in his office,” she told her while adjusting the pillow behind her when she noticed her eyes roaming the spacious room.

“Is he mad?” she asked, more tears gathering in her tired eyes.

“At himself, maybe.” Roseanne shrugged politely.

“Please help me go to him, Roseanne.”

“One more thing though.” Roseanne chew on her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know what he would’ve done with himself if something had happened to her and he kept blaming himself as he sat there with his right arm in a sling.

“Mr. Barnes has been shot.”

Bucky didn’t care to look when the door to his office opened, not knowing that she was awake and too busy wiping his tears of regret.

He’s been like this since he got her home and in his bed again. His tears were unstoppable now that he saw the results of his lifestyle on the one girl he chose and held closest to his heart. In fact, he cried more every time he took a look at her angelic figure tiredly sleeping in his large bed as the doctor patched up her broken wrist.

She was so small, so pure and so so good for this world. Her face was fainter and the spark was gone and he was sure Lloyd didn’t feed her. The fading finger marks she had on her cheek, the rope burns around her wrists and ankles and the cast around her forearm slashed new wounds at his heart.

“Bucky,” she called out faintly, her head and body still aching a little, heart dropping when she saw him with his arm hanging, “are you okay?”

He stood up and helped her sit in his chair, not sure if it was okay for him to carry her and sit her on his desk like he usually would.

He hastily wiped his eyes with his hand to look at his baby.

“Hi, angel,” he tried to say with a smile but his voice cracked as another tear escaped down his red cheek.

She surprised him by using his chair as a step to get on top of his desk, pointing to the chair for him to sit back down.

Bucky was on eye level with the marks on her ankles as she settled her bare feet on his lap.

What was he going to say now that she was awake? And most importantly, what was she going to say?

“My Bucky,” she could recognize the difference between this man and the man who started her rescue right away.

Bucky was stunned to see she could see it despite everything. He didn’t want her to ever find out about that side of him and it killed him even more that she caught the difference. How on earth did she find something like this out?

“All yours, angel.” He tried to compose himself, for her.

She couldn’t bare seeing him like this. It was like she’s forgotten about everything that happened before this very moment and all she could do was sit up and hold his face to lovingly wipe his sorrows away with her left hand.

It was enough time away from Bucky.

“I’m okay, Bucky. I’m okay,” she tried to reassure him, only making him cry harder as the dam broke when she rubbed his shoulder.

“Iarta-ma, iubita mea. Te rog. Iarta-ma. (forgive me, my love. Please, forgive me)" He sobbed, moving his lips to the palms of her hands to leave wet kisses all over the reddened skin.

“I’m okay, I swear,” she repeated, not knowing what to do or say.

“I forgive you. Please don’t cry; we’re good,” she said it to him in the kindest tone like it was the easiest thing to say.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance to. Please, love,” Bucky cried like a child in her lap.

No, he couldn’t even remember a time when he cried like this as a child despite all that he’d gone through. He didn’t care though. He was going to do whatever it took for his angel’s forgiveness. He disappointed her, broke her heart and risked her life. Bucky was going to beg until the end of time if he could.

Bucky shook his head, crying harder, “no, you’re good. You’re too good to me, angel. Too good. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. Never did.”

It sent a knife to his heart that she still sincerely called him her Bucky after everything she’s been through just because he was in her life; because he was selfish enough to bring her into his without a care.

He was still beating himself up over it. And how could he not when everything terrible that’s ever happened to her had happened because of him? He traumatized her more than anyone ever could have and he’s gotten her hurt time and time again.

This girl who’s made him feel like he could stand against the whole world all by himself with no fear just because she called him her lover. This girl who taught him loyalty, kindness and love and was now teaching him forgiveness. This girl was sitting before him with a broken wrist and heart telling him not to worry about it.

“Don’t say that, please. I’m alive right now thanks to you, my Bucky.” Her own tears rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them.

She loved him more than anything and wished she could make him see that. Oh how she was dying to make him see how safe and loved he made her feel.

“You mean you were taken and hurt thanks to me.” Bucky casted his eyes down, too ashamed to even look at her marked face.

“Bucky—”

“I get it if you still wanna leave me. And I will let you. I would never make you do anything you don't want. I just want you to know that I never lied to you about my love for you. You’ve been and still are the realist thing in my life, angel. Everything I said and did was true. I adore you.”

“Bucky, I—”

“I know it’s selfish to choose to speak about this now, but I’m afraid you’d leave before I get to tell you how in love with you I really am,” he sniffled, wiping his eyes again in vain before looking up at her, “I would die without you. Your love owns me, heart and soul. But.. if leaving me is what you choose.. and if leaving me will make you safe, I will accept it. I just need you to know that I’ve never lied to you. Angel, you are my whole life. You’re my one and only. I belong to you. I’m yours and I will die yours.”

She was speechless, too taken aback to stop herself from crying harder. Bucky’s never opened up to her about his feelings before. Not like this.

“Bucky, I love you,” she managed to whisper before he cut her off again. Before she could tell him that she felt the same way, that she was all his and will forever be his, that only him ruled over her heart.

“You don’t have to say that, angel—”

“Let me speak,” she demanded, her palm cupping his wet cheek as she grabbed him a tissue from his desk.

He nodded, biting his lip and bracing himself for the harshest ‘but’, preparing to get his heart ripped out of his chest.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” was the first thing she could get herself to say, desperately wanting to soothe his thumping heart.

Bucky’s eyes filled with more tears because he knew he didn’t deserve her.

“I forgive you. I want to tolerate this dangerous life because it lets me have you; be with you, which is the only place I ever wanna be.” She took a deep breath, her own tears continuing to fall as she wiped his.

“Baby,” Bucky whispers, hating to see her tears yet again.

“I knew you weren’t the nicest guy to others and I knew your line of business wasn’t the safest either. I just— it freaked me out when I actually got to see you inside of it. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

Bucky lowered his head in shame again.

“In my head, especially when little, you’re incapable of hurting. In my eyes, you’re safety, Bucky. You’re home.” She brought his eyes back to hers with a hand on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, love,” Bucky was quick to apologize but she shook her head in reply.

“It might take me some time to get used to everything now that I know everything. But it didn’t affect my love for you, Bucky. Not one bit. I lied. I was so scared I would die without getting to tell you that. I still loved you more than ever even in that moment with your fist against another man’s cheek, and I guess that scared me even more. Because it was unlike the me I thought I knew. But this me, right here, is madly in love with you and she doesn’t care about anything other than being by your side for ever.”

“Angel,” Bucky sobbed, holding her hand to his lips, leaving appreciative, wet kisses on her palm, “you won’t regret it, baby, I promise. This is the last time you get hurt. I would die before I let anything like this ever happen to you again.”

“I know, and I trust you, my Bucky. If you’d give me time and if you’ll have me, I wanna be with you every moment of my life, forever.” She couldn’t not throw herself inside his arms, needing the closeness to reassure her this was real.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, holding her on his lap as tight as he possibly could.

“Lucky me,” she whispered in his shoulder.

Bucky felt himself coming alive again at the smell of jasmines in her hair and the feel of her warm body in his hold. She was a piece missing from him and now that she was back, he wasn’t going to waste a second without worshiping the steps she walked.

“I know I might need a while, but that doesn’t change anything. I still love you with my whole heart, Bucky,” she reassured, squeezing him to her even more.

“Take all the time you need, angel. I’ll be right here. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“Promise me something though.”

“Anything.”

“No more killing people on my behalf.”

“What if they have a gun pointed at you?”

“Okay, only in that case then because it’s self-defense.”

“I promise.” Bucky smiled, sliding her hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead.

She pressed her forehead to his with a smile, “thank you.”

“We’re injury buddies now,” she joked when they pull away making Bucky laugh out loud for the first time in days.

“Does it hurt, angel?”

"Mine doesn't hurt, you?" He kissed her covered wrist gently.

"Does it hurt?"

They both asked at the same time, making each other laugh.

“Not as much anymore,” she replies, not wanting to remember how much it hurt when she was tied up in the cold room.

“Let’s eat so you could take your pain meds.” Bucky offered her his metal hand and she took it with her good one with a content smile.

Everything was going to be okay again. She knew it. Her hand was back in Bucky's and there was nothing their love wouldn't be able to pass. This might not be the Bucky she got in a relationship with, but it was the Bucky she wanted and was going to continue it with.

He was still and was always going to be her bucky.

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imagionationstation · 20 days

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Today on the Mikey Is Not Abused news

Research shows that 78% of the “Poor Mikey” fanclub claims that Mikey is incapable of standing up for himself, whether that be because he fears further abuse, fears his brothers in general, suffers from intense depression, an abuse sort of conditioning, or *insert other incredulous views here* (Statistics may not be entirely accurate and should be used with caution).

Unfortunately for them, Mikey does knows how to stand up for himself and it has been shown that he can speak his mind to even the main abuser, Raphael, and walk away unscathed.

Astonishing claim, I know, but the facts prove themselves.

Mikey has brought up beliefs on several occasions, but his lack of awareness outside his own mind often disproves his own claims.

Years of leprechauns, cream cheese demons, and certainty in cupcake uprisings have worn down his brothers’ trust in his word on many different subjects. This is not his brothers ignoring him out of spite. This is merely because he has proven himself to be an unreliable source when it comes to reality.

His lack of interest in taking most battles and training sessions seriously grate on his brothers’ nerves and often lead them to doubt his prowess and abilities on the field. Mikey being the youngest and earning all of their must protect with life instincts doesn’t exactly help his case. He knowingly brings much of their wrath upon himself- with tauntings, and purposefully infuriating acts, and the constant reappearance of Dr. Prankenstein.

When Mikey doesn’t go gun-hoe or call Raph out for a whack on the head, it’s probably because he’s conscious enough to know he likely said/did something stupid, or because he purposefully did something annoying.

However, if he sees an injustice affect another by his brothers’ hand, he will be the first one to stand up and correct it.

Mikey is proven to be more likely to speak his mind when it comes to others around him getting retribution that he deems underserved.

IN FACT, a few of the only times fans actually see an aggressive argument/challenge poised to a brother is to Raphael, often in regards to his crass judgement.

Take Fourfold Trap as an example:

“I got the answer for you! Karai’s a lost cause!”

“Don’t say that, dude!”

Mikey shoves at Raph’s shoulder to make him face him and they both begin yelling/bickering/roughly gesturing. Mikey is in no way scared of how Raph will react to this and is immediate in getting physically aggressive and speaking his mind.

Not normally how someone who’s been abused all their life would act towards the main abuser, I think. Not convincing enough?

Well, The Curse of Savanti Romero is another:

In it, Renet is seen admitting to her mistake of letting Romero loose. Raph responds by immediately coming down on her for it, even though she understands and regrets her mistake.

Mikey has zero hesitations about jumping into the picture.

“You really are the worst time traveler ever! The worst!”

“Back off, bro! She needs our help!”

Psychology of most abusers would not point to this kind of situation going well. If this were the case- in no universe would Raphael have relented under his brother’s glare and stepped away, especially not after being shoved and yelled at in front of someone outside the family. That would be seen as a calling for punishment.

Moving away would be letting the abused assert dominance and think that they’ve gotten away with a win.

If this were really an abusive relationship, then Raphael would have had a far more violent reaction to his youngest brother butting in.

Instead, he growled, glared, and then relented. He could tell this was not an issue that could be further challenged. Mikey was standing his ground, intensely meeting his glare, and so Raph stepped away.

Now, have there been times where Mikey felt like he was left out or being ignored and that made him feel insecure?

Yes. Absolutely. Mikey Gets Shellacne is a prime example.

But, have the abusers, his older brothers, been made to share similar feelings of being unable to rely on their brothers at one time or another? Perhaps due to his direct or indirect actions? Why, yes.

Because, as hard as it is to believe, every person in that family has made mistakes when dealing with another family member. Relationships are hard. Not one person, or mutant, is perfect, and facing or accepting insecurities is always a fact of growing up.

Is this to say Mikey never stands up for himself?

No. Not even close.

Is it ever portrayed as something big and dramatic as a focal point of an episode? No. Because it doesn’t need to be.

If Mikey holding onto resentment and depression from how his brother abuse him was meant to be part of his character, it would have been a plot point in the episode where they’re literally in his brain. There would have been the slightest hint of something going on somewhere in that chaotic realm.

Instead, Mikey’s brain welcomed all of his brother with open arms.

And the true, inner Mikey runs ecstatically toward his brothers and into Leo’s open arms for snuggles, no more scared of his brothers inside his mind than outside of it.

The only time that he has thoughts of “my brothers are so mean to me I should run away” is the episode The Croaking, where he takes accountability and has the realization that his brothers aren’t the jerks that he thought they were when he ran off…

“Dude. Your brothers sound awesome.”

“Yeah. They are… Even after I trashed the house.”

Mikey doesn’t often react violently to his brother’s teasing because there’s not a reason too. He understands that his brother’s pick on him, but in reality, he picks on them too. It’s not a big enough deal to point out unless an evil planet is letting Angry Mikey consume all of his thoughts and then everything is terrible.

Mikey can stand up for himself. Mikey will always stand up for others.

And that brings this article to an end. Subscribe for more!

Next time, we’ll discuss why Parasitica May or May Not have a worse reputation than it truly deserves. Cowbunga!

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dialovers-lover-xoxo · 2 months

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Sakamaki Brothers as Dads Headcanons!

This is in the context of their character development in later games, but I'm still going to try to be accurate to their personalities and try not to over-soften or idealize them

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Shu:

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- Shu struggled to find a balance between gentle discipline and guidance and freedom for his kids, he didn't want them suffocated like he was

- While he's there to help and support, he believes they should learn to work things out on their own. He's not neglectful of their problems but he's a little less hands-on in that regard

- Instead of solving things for them he works with them so they can learn to solve things on their own

- He keeps an eye of them without getting too involved physically like while they're playing or in public

- Though he'll love all his kids equally he really wanted a girl after centuries of being the older brother to 5 brothers

- Though he wants them to be able to take care of themselves, Shu is very protective of them

- He's generally very calm, even when angry

- He'll probably adopt a kitten or puppy for them to raise with him

- When they're young he lets them nap on his chest

Reiji:

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- Strict, but warm and gentle

- He makes sure to give each of his kids equal attention as to not let history repeat itself

- He also wants to prevent his children from having that same animosity and resentment he felt/feels with Shu

- If he managed to make some sort of peace with Shu he'll be okay with them interacting

- He'll take them into the woods and help them take care of and interact with animals

- He's adamant that they'll be vampires, not half-vampire, half-human, so he will absolutely turn his s/o into a vampire. No discussion

- Teaches them what he knows but also helps indulge them in their interests

- Kisses their forehead or heads

- Will check for monsters under the bed or in the closet, but won't let them sleep in bed with him and his s/o, he'll just reassure them there's no monster and give them a nightlight

- They can still hang out with him and his and his s/o's bed just not sleep there overnight

Ayato:

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- He's the fun dad

- But also sometimes the really embarrassing dad

- His son's playing a sport? He's losing his mind in the stands

- His daughter's the lead in a musical? He's clapping obnoxiously and bragging to EVERYONE

- Literally brags about every single one of his children's achievements

- Also the parent with the belief of his children can do no wrong. Like he'll argue with the teacher if one of his kids gets a bad grade

- He was really excited when you got pregnant

- But was secretly really worried

- He kind of idealized it at first, underestimating the difficulties of raising a kid and how much work infants are

- Was legitimately surprised at how long it would take for them to walk or talk

- At first he was entirely against any sort of discipline because he didn't know what discipline was, he didn't know you could be a good loving parent and discipline your child without mistreatment or abuse

- As far as he knew, discipline was abuse

- Very protective and possessive, especially with his daughter/s

- Sometimes fights with his kids over his s/o's attention or the last bite of food

- He'll always give them to last bite of food

Kanato:

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- He loves them the way he loves his s/o, it's genuine love but it's also very possessive love. He loves them as possessions

- Kanato can be surprisingly verbally loving in the games so he'll be like that with his kids, giving them compliments and telling them how much they mean to him like he does with Yui

- He'll stroke their hair and have tea parties

- They can't have Teddy but they can touch and talk to him

- He'll make them their own stuffed animal and they'll be allowed to name them Teddy Junior if they want to

- Kanato really likes dressing up his daughter/s like pretty dolls, he'll get disappointed if she doesn't like it but may come to tolerate/accept that's not who she is

- Not very interested in changing diapers, but will be present there, just not doing the actual action, more support and company

- He does hold them and rock them and he will take over so his s/o gets rest

- Extremely possessive. They are his and s/o's only. He's not even happy that they're related to his brothers

- If he has a good enough relationship with his brothers though he may tolerate them interacting

Laito:

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- He was excited to be a dad, but really worried

- Laito was sure to properly teach his children love

- Laito was really wary of who he allowed his kids to be near or alone with. He got it into his head that any adult might try to hurt or abuse them and for a while he was insanely over-protective

- He hated letting them out of his sight and even into their teenage years he had familiars following them

- A really playful dad

- Surprisingly good at discipline. Never in an abusive way of course, but he's surprisingly good at it and willing to teach them to behave

- Hates the idea of his daughter/s getting a boyfriend

- He will allow his children to play dress up with him, paint his nails, etc

- He'll play toys with them

- He's actually a very responsible father and all his brothers were really surprised

Subaru:

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- Subaru started out TERRIFIED

- How could he possibly be a good parent? His parents weren't and he still thinks he's a horrible monster

- Finally agrees to get therapy for his anger issues

- He was at first terrified to touch or hold his first child after they were born because he was scared he'd pollute them

- All his kids after that he was able to hold and interact with because he was able to get over that fear

- He turned out to be quite the natural

- Fiercly protective

- Still a bit of a tsundere, but is very open with his love

- Can barely resist their begging or cute little pleading faces

- Like Laito he often sends his familiars after them and doesn't like them being out of his sight, especially as children

- Loved taking care of them as babies, he found bathing and feeding and rocking them really relaxing

- It reminded him of all the good and love in the world and he never wanted his children to feel unloved by him

- Lets them cling onto his arms and he'll lift his arm to hold them up

- Puts his hand on their heads affectionately

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

I hope you like this!

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated my loves ❤️❤️❤️

Mukami Brothers Version 👇🏻

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Text

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader.

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and death.

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 4

Now you know. The shadows whispered in your ear and disappeared.

You didn’t know why they showed you this, it felt like invading Azriel’s privacy. Your heart broke as the image of the boy resurfaced, so young and thin. You shook your head and walked to the bathroom to wash yourself, the house had already changed the sheets.

After fixing yourself as much as you could you walked to the dining room and found Cassian, Nesta and Azriel there, they all looked at you when you entered, and Cassian smiled.

“Good morning” he said and turned back to his food.

“Good morning” you smiled and took a seat next to Azriel. You didn’t know why but you felt the need to be close to him, you couldn’t remember what happened last night, the only memory you had was walking into a bar and then Azriel placing you on the bed and leaving. Maybe it was the nightmare that made you feel this way. Azriel was surprised too yet he didn’t say anything nor moved away.

A plate of food appeared in front of you and you started eating.

“So y/n would you like to join us for training?” Nesta asked and you almost gasped, you didn’t expect her to be nice to you.

“I don’t want to be a burden, I have never fought in my life… I will just hold you back” you replied, your voice soft. Nesta snorted and shook her head.

“Nonsense, I hadn’t fought a day in my life when I started training too. At least come and watch and then you can make your decision” she shrugged.

“Okay” you nodded.

You glanced at Azriel who had an approving look on his face and instantly you felt proud of yourself.

After breakfast you went into your room and Nesta followed you. “Listen… I don’t really like you, we’ve all been through a lot and your appearance here is mocking us. You will never be able to understand the sacrifices we made and our trauma but as a female its my duty to help you become strong, confident and independent. Take the opportunity, you won’t regret it.”

You didn’t know how to feel about her statement, you admired her. Most females on your circle tried to destroy the others, it was one of the most successful ways to eliminate the threat and get married first. Nesta could see the gears in your head turning and that was enough for her, so she continued. “Lets find some proper clothes for training.”

She opened your closet and snorted when she saw the pink dress you wore the first day. “You should burn that thing, it’s hideous” she made a gagging noise and continued her search. You frowned and your mind went back to the day you bought it. That dress saved your life and even though it was ugly, it grounded you, it is the only thing that reminds you the past.

“I think these are okay” she said and threw a pair of leggings and a top on your bed. “Get dressed and come find us at the roof” and with that she left.

You picked the clothes and tried them on. The top reached your belly button and you felt exposed, your whole silhouette was on display, and you blushed as you saw yourself. Come on, everyone here wears this type of clothes. You can do this. You told yourself and with a deep shaky breath you left the room, hurrying off to the roof.

Cassian, Nesta, Azriel and two females were already there. The females had formed a line and Cassian stood in front of them, demonstrating some moves and then watching them repeat them, correcting them when needed. Azriel was behind the females correcting their stance and sometimes kicking their legs, making them lose balance.

“You should always be aware of your surroundings. Get up and correct your stance. Now.” He barked and moved to the next one.

Everything looked scary and painful, making you shiver. You gathered all your courage and walked outside, taking a seat on the bench in front of them.

“Hello y/n” Cassian smiled and moved to the side so you could see better. You waved at him, and your eyes fell on Azriel. He stood frozen behind the line, his eyes scanning your body. He licked his bottom lip and turned his attention to the females.

Your face burned and you made a mental note to dress like that more often. Then you frowned. He hates you and you should hate him too for the way he is treating you. Stop this. You reprimanded yourself and focused on the females.

They were moving with such grace, you felt like you were watching a choreography, their braids flowing around with every move they made, their muscles flexing their faces turning cold and then soft with a smile as Cassian shouted praises. You felt hypnotized and wondered if you could ever look this elegant with sweat running down your body. You thought about the females you used to admire, all living inside their pink bubble, only caring about their looks and lifestyle. The most successful female of your village had locked her sister in a cell when one lord visited their small cottage, so she didn’t have to compete. She managed to wed him but at a great cost. Her younger sister was afraid of the dark, when she threw her into the cell, she went mad and started banging her body on the wall, she cracked her skull and died. The older sister didn’t even cry and she pushed the funeral a few weeks later so she could prepare her wedding. Her sister’s body rotted in that cell, and she didn’t even care.

You glanced at the females here, they looked elegant and strong and successful. They didn’t care about males, they only cared about themselves. The looks they sent you filled with hope and encouragement in addition to what Nesta said earlier made your heart swell. They didn’t see each other as competition. No. They cared about other females, they wanted to help. You could fit here. These were the females you should admire, the females you could have as your role models and the thought made you smile, determination filling your body and making your blood boil. You got up and hurried off to your room, you opened the closet and picked the pink dress. You walked back outside and stared at Nesta. She stared back a smirk appearing on her face as she hurried off and came back outside with a candle in her hand. She offered it to you, and you threw the dress on the ground, lighting it up on fire and watching it burn. Nesta looked at you with pride and she clapped.

“Welcome to the real world princess” she smiled.

You glanced around and noticed the other females, they were clapping too, Cassian let out a low whistle and Azriel grinned. Your heart melted and you let out a giggle, your eyes filling with tears as you whispered, “Thank you”.

You weren’t thanking them for their applause, you were thanking them for supporting you, for opening your eyes and showing you that its okay to be strong and independent. And as you stood on that roof, proud of yourself and ready to take the wheel of your life, your gaze fell onto Azriel, and the bond snapped.

Your smile turned into a frown and your whole body shuddered. No, no, no. I just decided to take control of my life, I can’t be bound to a male. You thought and stared at him wide-eyed. Azriel noticed your expression and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you okay?” Nesta asked.

“Yes, just lost in the emotion.” You smiled.

“Okay I think we had enough for today. Tomorrow we will start our training at the same time, I’m guessing you will be joining us y/n” Cassian boomed. You nodded and smiled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were in your room, trying to do the moves you saw them doing earlier, you wanted to be prepared for training tomorrow. You were interrupted by a knock on your door, you could feel Azriel through the bond, so you stayed silent hoping he would go away.

“I know you’re in there” he shouted. You sat on your bed without replying. One of his shadows slithered down the door and shoot up, turning the lock and opening the door. You cursed under your breath and got up.

Azriel strolled into the room with a soft expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, everything is fine” you replied. “Fine my ass” he snarled “you felt it snap”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you whispered taking a step back. The cold expression returned on his face as he growled;

“Fine, its better this way. The Cauldron was wrong, I can’t have a weak female in my life. I showed you the city like Rhysand asked now don’t fucking come near me again unless its during training” the way his tone changed when he said training made shivers run down your spine. His voice was filled with painful promises and as he left your room you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic grin that appeared on his face.

Your heart skipped a beat and fear mixed with excitement filled your senses, the sting of his words long forgotten as you thought about training with him. You wouldn't let him treat you like that again, if you could manage that then you could do everything. I'm going to blow your mind shadowsinger. You thought and smirked.

I hope you enjoy this part, from now on the series will focus on female power so if you are here just for romance you shouldn't waste your time on this.

@glitterypirateduck , @zara-aliza08 , @mika-no-sekai-blog , @purpleshoelaces , @act1839 , @fasoaurore , @pinksmellslikelove , @bunnyredgirl , @lectoracronica , @tuggboatfishin , @sunnysideup000 , @blessthepizzaman , @universevsd , @raisinggray , @ssmay123 , @kalulakunundrum , @justasillylittlegoofyguy , @tsunami-of-tears , @just-a-social-casualty-1 , @thelov3lybookworm

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dancingbabya-notes · 1 year

Text

Your scars are beautiful

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Everyone gains scars; it's a part of life, no one is immune to that. From small ones that are barely noticeable to ones that signify or are a reminder of a very strong memory. A badge of honor, a reminder of a mistake, luck that no one else was harmed, or a bad memory. (PS the only reason I wrote this is because the most recent chapters I've read are rotting my brain and I sometimes think a little too hard about my own scars)

Characters: Todoroki, Mirio, Midoriya, Amajiki, Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Shinso, Shoji

Spoiler warning: there are spoilers for the bnha/MHA manga in Shoji’s part so if you don’t want that please don’t bother reading.

Tw: trauma, mention of falling from extreme heights, mentions of child abuse, mentions of abuse, mention of self harm,

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Todoroki

Sometimes you would walk into your shared room with Shoto, he looks at his face so intently in the mirror. But trying to imagine him without the burn scar on his face was difficult. That was your only image of him since school. Today he seemed to be intently picking at the skin around the old scar.

Walking up behind him you put his hands down so they sat in his lap as you hug him tightly. “Sho, Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He states, his low voice not expressing much emotion but for some reason you just knew.

“Do you wanna touch my scar?” You ask, he blinked.

You were very protective of your own scars, it wasn’t because it was an old scar. It wasn’t because of anything sad, it was because you went too far. Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun and lost your wings. When it happened you remember him reaching for you and the pain in his eyes.

“Are you sure, my love?” He looks at you in the mirror.

“Of course, you always tell me you find comfort when I touch your scar,” you smile.

“No,” he shakes his head, his hand sitting comfortably in yours. “Just sitting with me right now is fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s an old story.”

“That doesn’t mean it can stir new feelings,” you offer, giving him a slight squeeze.

Shoto thinks for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as time seemed to stretch before he found the right words. “I know now…why my mother felt the way she did. But I can’t… help but feel I had been too hasty in forgiving her. Or… that I’m wrong for not forgiving… my father.”

You try to think of a good thing to say but you weren’t sure if your words would bring him solace or pester the pain more. “I think you need to talk to them again. While it may open old bleeding wounds I feel telling them how you’re feeling might help. If you want I can sit with you when you do?”

“No, I feel it will only cause me unnecessary pain,” he sighs.

“But emotional pain can come up later,” you mumble then to realize. “Sho, are you worried that we will be bad parents to our children?”

“Yes,” he pulls on your hand a bit, stretching it a bit beyond to position that was slowly making pins and needles prick at your skin.

“No one’s perfect, but all we can do is try our best and make up for the mistakes we make. If you want when we start a family we can go to counseling,” you suggest. “That way we can get a second option, you might also get some closure with the pain you feel regarding your parents.”

Shoto pulls you around to face him, kind of sitting his lap but with his arms around you instead of you’re around him. You smile as he buries his face into your hoodie.

“You always seem to know what to say my love.”

Kirishima

“Babe?”

Flinching you quickly roll your pant leg back down. It was moments like these where you wish the mirror didn’t make you feel so small.

“There you are,” Eijiro smiles as he pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were asleep or something.”

“I was just antsy,” you mumble. “Sorry I should have said I was in here.”

He looks at you and he can tell. “Your scars are making you anxious, aren’t they?”

You nod.

He starts peppering your face in kisses. “It’s not your fault, it wasn’t something we could help. Nurse didn’t know.”

Nurse. Without her you didn’t want to know what would have happened to you. Your hero career would have ended that day. Even the short month to recuperate wasn’t enough time, you still had nightmares, waking up screaming, and the phantom pains. The reminder was the scars. Why couldn’t you move past this?

“I know.”

Eijiro picks you up and sits on the bed with you in his arms. He kissed your face, but you could tell where he was kissing. He had a purpose. Your body was littered with scars, the proof of your life and the things you’ve dealt with. The thin one just above your eye was from when your brother spent a day drawing portals through the house and you had fallen through one out into the tree. The smooth one by your ear from a surgery that had been found to be unnecessary: the hospital had mixed up your chart with another child patient, your mom was not enthused.

The one under your eye from when you accidentally cut your face, having thought you put the exact blade down, you were lucky you didn’t get your eye. He brings your hands up and he kisses your fingers, the paper thin cuts you’d gotten from learning how to cook and other craft related accidents. A small giggle escapes as he looks you in the eye for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this,” you smile.

“But I want to.”

With each kiss you were reminded of the origin of the scar. Your left hand: a wet rock from the river by the summer house. Your right wrist: the bracelet you wore during a spontaneous rescue during second year. Your shoulders: the burns from an old mission. Your stomach: an inconsolable attacker. Every memory was fine until he kissed your legs. The perfect lined scars that cut straight accords your knees.

Your breath shook a bit as the tears started. You were so scared. Plenty of other times you’d been scared but when you couldn’t feel your feet or toes, or even just the pain, were the most terrifying two minutes of your life.

His hands touched the scar and you flinched. “I know that I’m lucky. So many people pity me now.”

“Who cares what they feel about your scars,” your boyfriend pulls you back into his lap, peppering the top of your head and your forehead with kisses. “What matters is you are here, you are safe, and the pain you feel will disappear. It will fade into a bad memory.”

“I know. But what if-

“Y/n, if anything had happened we would have figured it out. Okay?”

You nod. “Thank you Eiji.”

Midoriya

When you see Midoriya’s scars, the ones on his hands, his arms, anywhere you wonder, would it have been better if you realized and accepted your second quirk sooner. You had grown used to using the regenerative ability given to you by the monster that forced your creation. Body torn to shreds over and over again, everyone always talked about how lucky you were. But were you?

You could lose a finger and if you consume enough toxins you could grow it back without worry. Your body showed no signs of scarring, well not visible at first glance. You had one scar. It was small and you just knew it was a part of you now.

“Cookie? Is there something on me? Don’t tell me there’s another water-

“No, you’re fine.” You shake your head and you smile looking at your boyfriend. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re beautiful?”

Midoriya didn’t seem to know what to say, his jaw hung open as he quickly covered his mouth and turned away. You chuckle slowly breaking into a laugh as he blushes so hard you could see it on his back from his shoulders.

“Cookie,” he whines and you slowly try to catch your breath.

Standing up you smile before taking his hand and kissing the first scar you’d ever seen on him. “It’s true. I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

You weren’t sure what it was but he pulled you close to him before kissing the top of your left ear. Which made you embarrassed, the only imperfection you had. A slight notch in the top of your ear. Like someone had cut a slice of it out. At the time you must have been no older than three or four, the faint memory of pain and then it ending.

“I think you are far more beautiful than I am,” he smiles before you push him away.

“Put on a fucking shirt,” you scold.

Mirio

“Sunshine, are you okay you’re shaking?”

Putting the pot down you think. “I’m fine though. Huh?”

Turning your. Hands over and over you did notice a slight shake, but that was normal right? Frowning it was odd when old memories would be triggered.

“Ah, I know what’s wrong.” You chuckle nervously. “I remembered when my mom had a hard time moving the pot to the table because she didn’t want us to burn our hands on the plates.”

Mirio was a bit confused. “Why did you think about that?”

You flex your wings and shift the feathers to the side a bit to show the one spot where only short feathers grew, it didn’t impair your flying and you were surprised you could even fly at this age. “She dropped the pot, my dad was so angry he hit her and got me in the crossfire.”

Though you had a light hearted smile on your face Mirio frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that Sunshine.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “If I hadn’t witnessed that I’m sure you and I would have never met. Don’t apologize, it made me think that I hope my mom is in a better place, and I will be very very careful who I marry if I ever do.”

Mirio had thought much about how you’d grown up, it was partially because you never talked about it. He didn’t want to pry usually but he did want to know as much as you were comfortable sharing.

“How do you feel about scars anyway?” You ask.

“They’re proof we live,” he smiles before brushing his hand against your feathers.

You shriek, pulling away quickly and stumbling forward. Groaning you clutch your side, having effectively slammed your entire weight into the corner of the counter.

“A warning,” you gasp. “Please, my feathers are sensitive.”

“R-right.”

Shaking your head you start laughing only to be paused from the pain shooting up your body.

Amajiki

Your partner watches intently as you work. He always did this, because he said it made him feel better. Watching you work when he had nothing to do. Somewhere along the way of learning you had been given the task to create new things for uniform fabrics. He remembered how when you both met and you made him something only for him to learn how your quirk actually worked.

Your blood infused with fabrics could change them drastically. A fabric that couldn’t be cut with most known blades unless you bled on it. A super stretchy fabric that didn’t wear easily if at all, water resistant fabric, changing a fabric to be flame retardant. Your quirk was virtually limitless if you had drawn enough blood.

“Tamaki? You’re staring pretty hard right now, did I mess up the pattern somewhere?” You pause a bit confused as you look over the piece.

Chuckling a big he shakes his head. “I just thought you looked beautiful.”

Okay now you messed up, quickly switching off the machine you felt yourself gradually melt to the floor. “What did I do to deserve someone as kind as you?”

“N-no I’m the lucky one,” he argues.

“I’m not beautiful and you know that, all these scars from trying to figure out how to use my quirk.” You laugh jokingly.

But Tamaki grabs your hands tightly. “You are beautiful, scars and all.”

You couldn’t help but smile, it was a stupid smile that one only makes when they’re drunk on love. “You’re beautiful too Tamaki. As beautiful as the moon.”

His face quickly reddens, but he did have enough sense to pick you up off the floor. Your work space was a workplace hazard in more ways than one.

“Don’t ever say your scars aren’t beautiful, without your abilities some many more people would be in danger,” he huffs, his ears burning from his embarrassment from your earlier comment.

“Mm, I’ll try.”

Bakugo

Katsuki hardly cared about his scars. He took care of his body and as long as he could do his job as a hero who cared what he looked like. But usually he’d skim over his scars when getting changed and a recent exchange made him angry seeing his scars.

You were working like usual, heroes were still plentiful but the job was safe. Your hero costume featured a mask to shield your face from others. Only he and a few trusted people ever saw your face without the mask. So during the recent publicity event when someone chastised and scolded you for your scar Katsuki had to be held back.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” you had said, but you still cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

It was a scar that left you permanently inhibited, taking one eye with it. After all the healing you’d gone through and everything one person’s comment could still bring you down.

“Tsuki? Are you okay?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He scoffs. “I’m fine.”

“Tomorrow is the gala right?”

“Mm.”

“Would you be mad if I said I’d rather stay home?”

Why? He didn’t want to go, you didn’t, might as well.

“Then we don’t have to go.” He shakes the wrinkles out of his shirt before folding it.

You pause. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I never said you did, are you sure we can just-

Katsuki stops folding the clothes and faces you. “I’m tired, so are you. Plus, you need a break from your mask. Whose fucking idea was it for it to be so tight to your face? Can’t even fucking breathe properly in that damn thing.”

You blink. “Wait, do you think I’m upset about what that person said?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Katsuki, seriously? I’ve had this scar since I was like five. Sure as shit ain’t pretty, but someone who doesn’t matter to me isn’t gonna make me upset.” You laugh. “If this hadn’t happened to me I would have never learned how to feel around for water and sense things with it.”

He smirks, pulling you into a hug. “Damn right. But we’re still not going to the gala.”

“Don’t wanna wear a tie?”

He didn’t answer you.

Kaminari

When you got married to Denki the first thing he did was make you cry. Because for some reason that was shut what he did. At your wedding in front of all your friends. Were you drunk? No. Had it been a long day? Yes. But somehow it was even more memorable.

Instead of a traditional or western “wedding” you both decided a small get together for family and friends would be so much better, on the condition your parents even showed up. As you looked at the scar that you both shared across your arms you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What are you looking at bumblebee?” He asked and his voice seemed to fall. “Oh.”

For Kaminari it held a different meaning. You were always so careful, it came with the territory of being a support item creator especially with a quirk like yours. Telekinesis could be powerful and used in many different ways but you used it both as a crutch and a tool to protect yourself. So when he saw that his mistake blemished your skin he thought “I just vowed to protect her and got her hurt.”

“I feel like it’s beautiful. Luckily Yoko could heal it up,” you smile brushing your fingers on your own scar.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown. “I like this scar. It’s not the first one I’ve ever gotten but it’s ours.”

“I didn’t know that knives could split like that if the wrong pressure is placed on it.” He mumbles.

“It’ll be a good teaching moment for when this one gets older.” You coo brushing the hair from the child’s eye. “I’m sure Teru will think it’s funny how his parents share a scar. Though I think the story of how we met will top that.”

“I guess you’re right. But I’m still sorry,” Kaminari pouts.

“You have more than made up for it, my overpowered pikachu.” You grab him by the face and squeeze it a bit before kissing him.

“Do you think Teru will get scars?”

“As he gets older yeah,” you nod, looking at the baby again.

“You’re happy with me right y/n?” Denki squeezes your scarred hand with his own.

“Of course I am. Accidental exploding knife and all. I think that made our wedding more memorable for me,” you chuckle. “I feel like it was my fault.”

“No, you can’t do anything wrong.”

Shinso

You smile as you finish giving the kitten a bath. Fostering the stray cats so they could be taken care of or at least fixed was probably one of the few things you were glad your house could accommodate. Which made you think about the first time things like this happened. Trying to help a stray dog which resulted in a nasty bite as a child. But regardless you got the dog to safety. Your mom wasn’t all that happy about the bite.

“Hey puddin,” you smile as the older cat rubs against your face. “You know where to leave your gifts. Hitoshi will be coming over tonight.”

You giggle thinking about the first time you met him. Helping out at your parents' rescue center Shinso Hitoshi came in with his arms and face bleeding as the cat tried to free itself of his hold. You damn near panicked because of it. Even laughing with him as you patched him up.

“Look we match.” He joked showing his own bite mark wound.

As he walked in you held the now dry kitten, purring snatched the kitten from you and started taking care of it herself.

“Okay mama, looks like my job is done.” You roll your eyes about to wash your hands.

“Was there any trouble?” Hitoshi asks puttting the groceries down.

“No, I just thought about how I met you.” You hum.

Hitoshi thinks for a moment and nods. “Oh, well I’m glad we match. Doing stuff like this would be hard otherwise.”

You look at the scars you both bear, if not for these you might never have met your best friend.

Shoji

When you met Shoji you had never expected it to be through your quirk. The ability to walk through people’s dreams and exist in that separate space. He’s much taller than you so even if your eyes weren’t glued to the floor you wouldn’t have usually made eye contact with him. Once you spent more time with him you had wondered about the mask why he wore it, but in fear of prying you kept your questions to yourself.

You’d always lived in the city you read about the way heteromorphs were treated in rural areas so seeing it first hand through a nightmare of his. Made you hurt. People who thought they were better than others hurt innocent people, it made you angry. But as he lays in your lap sleeping after a long day of hero work you keep your tears at bay.

“Why is this coming to mind now?” You mumble.

Shoji stirs in his sleep, and you bring your hand to his hair, rubbing his head much like how he did for you when you apologized for your inability to control your own quirk. His scars weren’t what made him, and you were glad at least he could come to terms with it. But the people who cared for him— like you. Will probably always feel pain. Leaning down, you kiss him and he chuckles.

“Are you crying again?”

You sniffle trying to make your voice normal. “No.”

“It’s in the past, things are slow to go but there’s been change since we were in school.” Shoji yawns a bit before sitting up. “Aside from thinking about the past, what are you thinking?”

“How beautiful you are,” you hum, stretching up a bit you cradle his face in your free hand. “Because it takes a lot to be this beautiful.”

He kisses the inside of your hand. “Only you say things like this.”

“And you know that I mean them. Just hold me back after counting to three if anyone dares say anything.” You clock your tongue.

“Hmm, I’ll give you five seconds.”

“Truly kind indeed to couple with your beauty,” you giggle, bowing your head a bit. “I am not worthy.”

But he didn’t laugh this time, instead he pulled you into his lap and just held you there. He does take your cup away from you.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking coffee after five, stardust?” He frowns at the liquid and you avert your gaze.

“It’s decaf.” You lie.

He smells the cup and puts it on the coffee table before locking you in his hold. “I believe that’s enough ‘not coffee’ for one evening.”

Leaning back on his chest and looking up at him you still smile. “While your scars come from a bad memory I hope since they’ve healed you have a million more to make the bad seem insignificant. Plus I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

It was his turn to hold your face in one of his hands. “I know stardust. I know.”

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undertheorangetree · 6 months

Text

The Aftermath

Summary- Near death experiences have a habit of changing relationships.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. DUBCON due to persuasion. Female reader. Arguments. Bigotry/Islamophobia. Discussions of near death experiences/trauma. Dark-ish/toxic Billy. Fingering. P in V sex.

Author's Note- Okay so I've never actually seen the show in its entirety because it's not available in my country so I'm working off the wikia and what I've seen in scenes. Please forgive any mistakes/misinformation, he looked too sad and pathetic not to write for. Full link below :)

She doesn't bother to knock when she arrives at Billy's flat, storming inside with little regard for his privacy. He had given her a key not long after he moved in, promising that she could come over whenever she wanted, though she isn't sure this is what he had in mind at the time.

She makes her way passed the trash building up at the front door, forcing her way inside and finding him exactly where she expects to, lounging on the couch with some football game playing on the TV. He sits up when he spots her in the doorway, the smile that graces his face when he sees her slowly fading when he catches sight of her expression. She is sure it is a storm, her anger obvious, but she doesn't give him a chance to speak first.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

He looks at her blankly for a moment before a realization seems to come over him. "Lana told you then?"

"Yeah, Lana told me. What the hell were you thinking?"

He rolls his eyes, pushing forward to grab the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table and taking a swig. Her eyes catch the cuts on his knuckles, the opposite hand covered with a bloodied bandage, and watches the skin between his brows crease when the abused skin stretches. "Why does it matter to you? It's not like anyone was there anyway, was there? And you can't tell me they didn't deserve it."

"Why does it- Billy, you're not this stupid."

In all the years she's known him, she has never known him to be cruel. Quiet and insecure, surely, but never vicious. She almost hadn't believed Lana when she had called her, informing her of the one man attack he had pulled at the butcher's. It seemed so entirely out of character from the friend she had always known it nearly scared her, hearing about how he had destroyed the storefront for the crime of being owned by a Muslim family. But more than fear, it made her skin crawl, a disgust for him she had never felt toiling in her gut.

She isn't an idiot. She knows how he has been struggling lately. From his breakup with Becky to his consistent unemployment to his family ragging on him to make something of himself. Nothing has been easy for him as of late but she never would have expected him to let his rage out like this.

"If you only came here to bite my head off about it, save us both the trouble, yeah? Lana already beat you to it."

"So you don't regret it at all? Any of it?"

She wants him to say yes. And not just for the criminal record he has now contracted for it but for the guilt of screwing over innocent people. She wants him to prove that he is still her friend, to believe that he hasn't fallen down this path without so much as a blink.

He does little to assuage her fears. "What do I have to regret about it?"

Her disgust increases tenfold with that- she is grateful for it, as it manages to cover the pain of his confession- and she feels her face contort. "Why would you do it? What was the point?"

"They're the reason the world has gone to shit. It's 'cause of people like them, their whole fucked up religion. They're the animals here, not me."

She physically recoils at that, not bothering to hide her repulsion now. "Jesus Christ, Billy."

"Well I don't expect you to understand it. You're too nice, got a fucking bleeding heart for every poor bastard that walks past ya. It's 'cause of people like you that Nick and I-"

That catches her attention. "Nick? Was someone else with you when you went to the butcher?"

His face drops as if he realizes he has said something wrong but he still shakes his head as nonchalantly as he can manage. It isn't indifferent in the slightest. "Nah. Just my friend."

Read the rest here

#billy Washington x reader #billy Washington x fem!reader #billy Washington x you #billy Washington smut #billy washington trigger point #billy washington #trigger point #trigger point 2022 #billy Washington fanfic #billy Washington fanfiction

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bonesandthebees · 1 month

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It's fine I perservere through everything bc I am just that cool

Also yeah, wtf has happened since I've been gone??? Like? Last I new was the Wilbur stuff and know there's talk of the French Union threatening to sue Quackity (I think? I'm a little confused on the whole thing)

oh god sammie you have missed. so much.

um. ok. nutshell summary. this is gonna be long. (tw: talks about more abuse and SA allegations being brought against other ccs)

other mcyt cc allegations after wilbur:

you know what happened with wilbur. after all the support shelby received, another streamer caitibugzz (another brighton cc) came forward with her own story about being sexually assaulted by a cc at vidcon while she was 18 and he was 26. she didn't name him but like with wilbur it didn't take long for people to figure out she was talking about georgenotfound. anyway, uh, that spiraled into a thing. george said a lot of shit, dream involved himself way too much, it was a mess.

immediately after that, punz's ex girlfriend, andi, came forward and discussed how toxic their relationship was and detailed a time they had sex while she was blackout drunk, which is SA. punz did respond insisting he didn't realize how drunk she was, it turned into a whole thing, andi's response basically boiled down to read both sides of the story and form your own opinion.

also then punz jumped in on whatever the hell was going on with dream and george with george's own allegations and discussed how in his entire friendship with dream he's felt very intimidated to speak out against him and often thought of him as a boss more than a friend. along with that he also brought up a point regarding his ex girlfriend andi, but I'm not going to go into too much detail on that because I don't believe andi wanted all that information to be made public and punz later deleted the posts.

at the same time another thing happened. another cc in the brighton group, lexie marie, had spoken out multiple times about how her ex was emotionally abusive to her and the day before wilbur posted his 'apology', she and shelby even did a whole stream together discussing abuse and their experiences. anyway, lexie's abuser was publicly named as wisp, so yeah he responded with an 'apology' of his own.

NOW AS FOR QSMP:

like a week or two after wilbur's 'apology' was posted, a former admin of one of the qsmp updates accounts came forward on twitter and discussed the terrible working conditions she and all the other admins have been having to deal with working for quackity studios. we learned that the updates accounts and the egg admins were unpaid, and were often pushed to pulling more hours or doing extra work they shouldn't have. this blew up in the community and quackity ended up doing a stream to say he basically has to do an entire restructure of the server because the finances for the server were being severely mishandled and he was under the impression most of these people were getting paid when they were not. (also, during this stream quackity made a quick aside to say that wilbur was going to be removed from the qsmp)

since then, more admins have left the team (agent 18, ramón's current admin) saying they haven't received communication and aren't sure what's going on.

one of the issues the initial whistleblower brought up was that pomme's admin had just recently been removed from the whitelist for the server and kicked from the discord server without being given much of an explanation. the french cc's all collectively said if pomme was not given back her role they would not continue on the server. today pomme's admin revealed herself and made a post saying she still hasn't received any communication with the team and is quitting entirely. dapper's admin resigned in solidarity with her.

then today quackity did another stream discussing how things are taking time because they have to work out a lot of internal legal issues and because it's legal stuff he can't give that many updates. he's also been hesitant to update people because he doesn't want to make false promises, as right now the qsmp does not have enough money to pay the egg admins and they won't return unless he finds funds for that because he's ending all unpaid positions. also, as people have left the project, some have been posting private screenshots from the qsmp discord or from communications with the qsmp team and quackity has said these leaks have been causing issues with the legal stuff they're dealing with, and also what's going on has been misconstrued as a result of these leaks, so that's another reason he's been keeping quiet about things. but he's determined to work this all out and to keep the qsmp going, but he completely understands if people don't want to stick with the project or if people who have worked with it wish to leave.

as far as the union goes, the initial whistleblower was a french admin for the updates account and so when she left the studio she contacted a french union about the unfair working conditions. the union has posted on twitter calling out quackity studios saying they're in violation of french labor laws and that if quackity refuses to communicate with them they will pursue legal action. except today we also learned from one of the union guys on twitter that they have not attempted to email him at all. they made their posts on twitter and said it's quackity's responsible to contact them. for the record, quackity deleted twitter a while ago so he's not on that platform right now. as you can see this raised some eyebrows.

so uh yeah. I'm missing a lot of details I know but I was trying to give as much of a summary as I could hitting all the major points. you have missed literally the most insane past few weeks.

#ask #sammiekel

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scarletskiesinthepaths · 2 months

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can you talk about kuchel and levi pls i loved your last post abt levi

Hi, thank you so much for your question! I'm really excited because this is the first time I've received an ask like this :) Thank you as well for your kind words on my post!

Off the top of my head, I'll lay out some of my thoughts in general about Levi and Kuchel and some of the speculations I have regarding the circumstances they were in together:

Kuchel seemed to be a victim of sex trafficking. She fled to the Underground City to escape persecution, but prior to that, we can assume that she lived a relatively sheltered and privileged life, as the Ackermans served and protected the King. Because of this, it is unlikely she would have had the skills or knowledge to defend herself once reaching the Underground, so I'm assuming she was preyed upon—especially since it doesn't seem like she ever awakened her own Ackerman powers. We also know that human trafficking is common underground, given Mikasa's backstory and some of the "Bad Boy" panels that have been released.

Given that Kuchel became pregnant with Levi by one of her patrons while working as a prostitute, Levi is essentially the product of rape; Kuchel's occupation was more akin to forced labor and sexual slavery than it was willful employment. I'm certain the circumstances of his birth were never lost on Levi, as I'm sure he witnessed his mother being forced to have sex on a highly frequent basis due to their living arrangements.

To elaborate, I'm fairly certain Kuchel and Levi lived in the brothel she worked at. When Kenny went to search for Kuchel's address, the man he spoke with referred to her as "Olympia" (her prostitute name). That man was also aware of her health status in reference to her ability to see clients, so I'm assuming he was the brothel owner. Building upon Levi witnessing the sexual violence toward his mother by her clients, the reason I think this is the case is because I doubt Kuchel would have felt secure in having Levi leave the room. Given the danger of their situation and how hostile of an environment the Underground is, Kuchel would have wanted to ensure Levi's safety from kidnappers by keeping him in her presence. From what we see of the room Levi was in when Kenny found him, there was only one relatively small bed and a paltry amount of furniture. Not many places for Levi to hide, unfortunately.

The likelihood that Kuchel had postpartum depression (PPD) is quite high, as certain psychosocial circumstances increase the risk factors for developing PPD: stressful life events during the pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, food insecurity, violence against women, low socioeconomic status, low social support, single marital status, sexual abuse history, and more. All of these aforementioned factors apply to Kuchel. It is exceedingly unlikely Kuchel would have had access to treatment for any PPD she may have had as well. Furthermore, it is well-known that PPD can adversely impact the maternal-infant relationship, particularly untreated PPD. This would have affected not only Kuchel's ability to attend to her own needs, but also Levi's needs.

Levi was dying from starvation when Kenny found him. I imagine Levi was stuck with his mother's decaying corpse for around a week, and one does not reach that level of starvation from going without food for a week. Simply from those panels alone, it is evident Levi had probably gone without sufficient access to food for months at a time. This demonstrates that Kuchel was having significant difficulties providing for Levi's basic needs. Based on this fact alone, Kuchel would not have had the capabilities and resources to provide Levi with higher-level needs, like the feelings of love and belonging that children need to thrive. I think Kuchel clearly loved and wanted Levi deeply, just based on the panel of her crying tears of happiness while holding Levi as an infant; however, the reality of her situation would have precluded her from properly relaying this love to Levi.

Let's take a look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs:

Basically, human needs are arranged in this hierarchy, with lower-level needs required for survival having to be satisfied before moving on to higher-level needs. Higher-level needs cannot be met if lower-level needs are not. The more one progresses through this hierarchy, the harder it is to continue to move through the hierarchy due to the practical and interpersonal barriers that inevitably occur. Physiological needs are the most important because no other needs can be satisfied unless those are met. Practically none of Levi's physiological needs were being met during his childhood:

We've established he had no food.

Given the poverty they were in and the nature of the Underground, a lack of clean drinking water makes sense.

The barest minimum of shelter was provided, given the small room they lived in. The shelter itself was inadequate and unsafe.

Levi was dressed in rags when Kenny found him, so we can extrapolate that he did not have much clothing.

Due to the lack of sunlight and the known effects on circadian rhythm, as well as Levi's known issues with insomnia during adulthood, consistent sleep was also an issue.

Clean air quality also seems like it'd be an issue Underground, given the lack of electricity. Torches and oil lamps probably contributed significantly to air pollution, along with the proper lack of air ventilation.

On a different note, we know from Kenny's conversation with the man who I assume was the brothel owner that Kuchel got sick from one of her clients. Of course, it's possible that Kuchel may have gotten some other sort of illness from her client, but given the occupational hazards of her labor, I'm assuming this was a sexually transmitted disease (STD). We already know Levi is extremely wary and concerned about disease when he's older to the point of being seen as a "clean freak"; it seems pretty easy to trace this concern to his experiences living underground. Given how Kuchel became sick, it's not a leap to think Levi might associate sex with disease, especially if he ever learned about the concept of STDs. Levi probably internalized some very negative messages and associations regarding sex from his childhood with his mother.

Anyway, those are some of the basic thoughts I have in my head regarding Kuchel and Levi's circumstances. I do have some more, so I would definitely love to write more posts at some point on this topic. Thanks again for reaching out!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #Kuchel Ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan meta #shingeki no kyojin meta #c: levi ackerman #c: kuchel ackerman #r: kuchel & levi #aot.meta #meta.levi #meta.kuchel #ask #asks #my thoughts

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mhaynoot · 10 months

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important to note that kdj was already dissociating before the scenarios began and that his internal narration was already heavily biased and unreliable especially in regards to his own self.

after all, this is our introduction to him so we take his self assessment it at face value.

"While I hadn't worked hard…"

and so led by his narration, the reader is led to believe that kdj is a lazy worker that you can project into. this is further reinforced by contrasting him to ysa. unlike her who is the heroine and hard worker, he was an individual who liked reading webnovels instead of studying.

"So, it was inevitable that Yoo Sangah would become a full-time employee and that my contract would be terminated."

it isnt until much later through the reveal of han myungoh and that coin farm arc that it is revealed the company he worked under is a workplace that thrived on nepotism, casual harassment, hazing and bullying. that it was filled with rumours that circulated his family tragedy. mino soft was a garbage company that made even ysa snap. ysa who strived everyday to be her best and decide to be good and chose to be kind and uphold her role and morals in a society and family life hellbent on reducing her into a role. that ysa snapped and got back at the company and kdj knew it too. he knew because he looked the other way as she got back at the company, turned the camera away from the break room, and kept his eyes down, hiding himself in the cupboard and the glow of a phone.

it had been a work culture that was based on exploitation of workers. it was one rife with sexual harrassment, and where the higher ups abused their power liberally to try and coerce their underlings.

and yet, to kdj who was beaten down by this world of capitalism and being a 28 year old contract worker about to be terminated, he saw himself as a failure and not the workforce itself for failing him and every worker.

it hurts him so much that he starts dissociating to cope:

All of the sudden, Yoo Sangah's voice sounded distant.

It felt as though I was getting infinitely farther away from the world. To rein in my mind which felt as though it would drift away, I forced my eyes open and focused my gaze straight ahead.

it reveals how capitalism effects the power of the worker or rather the lack of power they have. the distorted power imbalance based on keeping the worker at the bottom of the social hierarchy is enforced by the workplace culture where the worker is disregarded if they are not profitable. this is further maintained by a culture of enforcing the notions of laziness and ridiculing those deemed lesser. it is a societal stranglehold on personhood and personal freedoms but it is not only those on top stepping on those on the bottom but also those on the bottom of the hierarchy who harm not only others but also themselves in the process of perpetuating the myth of hard work. as they absorb the harmful idea of being a model worker and link their self worth to capital, they self sabatoage themselves and place themself into a box and watches as society seals them into it.

capitalism destroys the soul of the worker.

ultimately, this workplace culture founded perpetuating the myths of hard work and laziness and which profit is prioritised over human life had led kdj to thinking himself as lesser because he took the personal liberty of enjoying a fucking novel.

#orv #anti capitalism #kim dokja #orv analysis #this provably does not make sense #no i have not read the communist manifesto yet #long post

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milkywaydrabbles · 7 months

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He who was found in chains, set free. | XI

A/N:Sorry for the delay in chapters life has gotten very busy screams;; this is a shorter chapter, kind of a filler? But the episode this was based off (S4E7) is a rather slow one to begin with, so I figured I'd take the time to describe their heart break and the realization of love. I hope you enjoy it all the same, next chapter will start picking up the pace with action, maybe a bit of romance? We'll see!

You can read on Ao3 here!

You were scared to go outside. You were scared to leave the castle, scared to even leave your room. The confidence, the smiling, living freely-everything was ripped from you in an instant. And worse of all you weren’t sure if you even wanted to see Alucard or not. On one hand, you were furious, furious that he left you for so long and came back with the devil himself. The man that tortured you, abused you, belittled you. You’ve never felt so betrayed like this-never thought you could feel so betrayed. But it felt like Alucard had no regard for you or your life the way he had been acting (how could he act a specific way? He abandoned you.) You had locked yourself away in the room, the townspeople forgetting you even existed. You’re scurry along the edges of the halls whenever you needed even just a slice of bread to get you through the next few days. You remembered the days of never eating real meals. You could go back to it just as quickly, eating for survival and not for enjoyment. Alucard hadn’t seen you in days. Every time he thought he could grab a hold of you, you’d go back to the room with a small click of the lock and ignored all his calls through the door. You were rotting away in there, and he must have known it was his own fault. He broke your trust, and you must hate him.

You were grateful for the bathroom being a part of the suite, as you have no idea how you’d be able to avoid people for as long as you have. Even so, you barely had the energy to bathe, periodically doing so just to make sure you really weren’t rotting away. The curtains were closed, shutting away the light. Oh, how your heart felt torn to pieces. Slowly, Alucard had put you back together, helping you find your own voice, find things you love. You found your smile, if only just for the first time in your entire existence. He helped you learn, taught you so much about the world, and how it was kind and forgiving. You found yourself, learning more about yourself and your ancestry. You were a witch! And you would be a good one! Now, you didn’t even have the energy to read, let alone study on the craft. Laying in bed felt like laying in your casket. Limbs cold, bleary vision, ready to just waste away.

But, oh, being away from Adrian hurt more than the betrayal. Every time he knocked on your door, your heart broke. Each call out to you, saying your name so softly, hearing him beg for you to just open the door, just let him see you, just let him apologize--you’d go to the bathroom and close the door, crying in the tub just so that he doesn’t hear you. But you couldn’t help but sob, crying into your hands with a head so heavy. He’d still hear you anyways, his hearing so sharp he can catch almost anything. It destroyed him, knowing that he was the cause of all this pain. Not realizing that you cried so terribly because you wanted more than anything in the world to hold him, to be surrounded and overwhelmed by him and only him. Once, you really thought about opening the door. He’d brought you food, like he did almost every day, hoping you’d eat. Sometimes he’d leave it at your door and leave you be for a few hours until returning with the food still untouched. You wondered what the townspeople have been doing to the castle. You hear the children sometimes outside. You wonder if Adrian is with them, making them laugh. You wonder if he’s with her. With Greta. You wonder if he smiles at her like he used to smile at you. You wonder if he thinks about you when she’s around. You wonder if one day he’s just going to rip the door off its hinges and throw you out to the wolves for all your troubles and burdens. You wonder if he’ll do worse; stop coming around altogether and let you rot and fester until death takes you in this room.

And then you can’t help but cry some more, because oh, you realize this is what love is. And that you love Alucard. You love Adrian Tepes. And love hurts.

“I’ve left food for you, please, you need to eat.” He murmured against the door, again, and ventured off into the castle. These days he had no energy to do much, forcing himself to work on helping the village. It’s been hard, without you around. He knows it’s his own fault. He knows he deserves this. He tries not to think too much on it, for he’ll spiral out of control in misery. He’d found himself on the peak of his castle, overlooking the land and listening to the laughter of children. He looked down, seeing them all waving up to him, “hm..”

Alucard jumped.

The children looked on, terrified of the man falling to his seeming doom before stopping only a few feet above them. “Boo.”

The shock turned into laughter, the children giggling before running away probably to tell others of what they just saw. He smiled.

“That was nice of you.” Greta came into view, Alucard looking bashful that he was perceived. “I didn’t realize anyone was watching.”

“I was looking for you. Imagine my surprise when you dropped out of the sky and frightened a year’s growth out of the little bastards.”

Alucard sighed, looking away from her, guilt painted on his features. “Sorry.”

“No, really. It was nice of you. They don’t all have an adult who’ll pay any attention at all to them.”

“Let alone plummet down on them like death from above, I suppose.”

“You gave them a story they’ll be telling forever.”

“I wanted to talk to you about defenses, and I wanted to ask about your food supplies.” Alucard sighed, looked at the entrance of his castle that he now faced. “I’m not sure there’s much.” He really had no idea, saying as he was really only cooking for two--well, one. Now. and he didn’t keep much else around.

“Well that’s the thing. I was hoping we could use some of the dried meat you have to make meals go a little further?”

“Use it all.”

“Seriously?”

“Whatever you can find. I tended to forage fresh food in the mornings, but I’m sure I have some preserved things in the pantries.” To be honest, Alucard was only half paying attention to the conversation, eyes always drifting up to your window. Hoping, praying that one day he’d catch it open, that one day the curtain would even be slightly to the side bringing it some sunlight. That he’d be able to catch just a glimpse of your face.

“You don’t actually know what you’ve got in your castle, do you?” Greta’s voice brought him back, and he really wished it hadn’t. “Not really.” He shrugged.

“It looks like you were feeding an army in there up until a couple of months ago.”

Well....

“It wasn’t me. But I take your point. I’ve been...preoccupied. Beyond clearing up some damage from...let’s talk about something else. Defenses” He thought of all the times he could have spent cleaning up debris, or taking inventory of what was actually left in the castle, talking with you. Spending time with you. Learning your intricacies, the little nuances and ticks that you do when you’re trying to learn something new, or when you’re cooking, or when you’re explaining a new dish that you’ve always wanted to try and he was finally able to grab the proper ingredients for you.

He’s been preoccupied, letting you take over all the time in the world.

“I mean, I hope just closing your castle doors will keep people away, but...”

Greta sighed, looking towards her people.

“..We’re going to start losing the light soon. Let me show you where the weapons are kept..and then we’ll look at the outside.”

Alucard continued to throw himself into working with the townspeople, working with Greta to make sure their defenses were up. That they felt safe. And when the night came, the last remaining ounces of people he would have until the predictable fighting began, he thought of you. He wondered if you’d ever forgive him for the treachery he committed. The nightmares that he brought to your home. Alucard could never just think it his castle again. You were the light that shone down on him, showing him the good in people again. Teaching him that he can be kind, and forgiving, and patient. You showed him how to love learning about the unknown again. Your very existence permeated through the cracks of the walls, an existence he yearned for more and more with each passing second.

He missed you. He missed you more than he missed the ghost of his father, hell he might even miss you more than he missed his mother. And you were only a wall away, and yet it might as well be galaxies and oceans between you. He should have done more, should have done better after bringing you to your room to rest.

Adrian lifted you from the ground, holding onto you like you were the single most precious being in existence. You sobbed into his chest, nails sinking into his skin as he walked towards the castle. He whispered sweet nothings to you, hoping to calm your torments. But it all fell on deaf ears, you just wanted to be back inside.

As he approached the doors Greta had confronted him about the man who had just run into the forest without an explanation as to what happened. Alucard scowled, pressing you closer to his chest. “You’d do well to kill him should he ever rear his ugly head around here again. I’ll be less forgiving.”

“And why would I do that?”

He didn’t want to have this conversation with you here. He also didn’t feel right talking about your past at all. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. He turned away and proceeded to walk away from the confrontation, leaving with “Should I ever see him again, his body is the next on the stakes in front of my castle.”

He shouldn’t have left you alone. He shouldn’t have said that he had important matters to attend to. There was nothing more important than you. He should have stayed with you, and held you as you slept, and begged for your forgiveness when you woke up. But he left, and his heart felt like stone weighing him down to the core of the Earth. Alucard sat in his study, head heavy in his hands as he wept, tears dripping in splatters on the cold hardwood. It was hard to breathe.

And then he wept more, because oh, he realized this is what love is. And that he loves you. And that he’ll only ever love you.

And love hurts.

#milk writes #adrian tepes #alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017)#he who was found in chains set free #hwwficsf

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stabbydragon · 8 months

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*clears throat* Can we just talk about how unfair it was that Cordelia was the one who got to kill Tatiana? Like there were a million other people who were way more qualified.

I’m pretty sure most people, like me, were rooting for Grace. After all, she was the one that Tatiana hurt most by physically abusing her, making her into a weapon, forcing her to brainwash James which made everyone she cares about mad at her, etc. Not to mention that Christopher, one of her only friends, the only person who defended her, and the one who encouraged her to pursue her passion for science, had just been MURDERED by Tatiana! And like, Grace was RIGHT THERE with a knife to Tatiana’s throat! Then CORDELIA had to come and ruin everything by summoning Lillith! WTF!?

Jesse was another person who had been hurt by Tatiana. This bitch, who he thought cared about him despite her flaws, as a mother should, SOLD HIM TO BELIAL so he could be possessed and forced to murder people which he would never do under any circumstances of his own free will! The guilt the poor boy must have gone through because of this bitch! Although personally, I don’t think he would be capable of murder, but it would have been better than fucking CORDELIA.

Also, the idea of either Jesse or Grace doing it to avenge their sibling? 😭

My second choice after Grace would be Lucie, who would be furious both because of Jesse being possessed, and because she had just found out that Tatiana had been the one to ruin James and Cordelia’s marriage, causing both her brother and parabatai a lot of pain. It would have set the scene for a fascinating conversation between her and Jesse regarding how they both felt about Tatiana’s death (the same is true for Grace) because I need more Ghostwriter scenes. Also, if she killed her partially on Grace’s behalf, it would better showcase what could have been a beautiful dynamic that desperately needs to be explored further. I need these too to become besties immediately! Lucie, unlike her boyfriend, totally deserved to be a morally ambiguous character. She had so much potential for stabbiness, so where’s all the stabbiness? It’s so unfair that she never gets to stab someone ONCE because she’s a main character and therefore needs to be morally perfect even though people who grew as rich as she did are the ones most likely to be evil. Besides, she could have ordered a ghost to do it while Lucie herself was far away, giving her an alibi, and any witnesses would not have seen the ghost. Honestly my preference would be if Lucie and Grace teamed up to do it together in Jesse’s name.

EVEN FUCKING JAMES a would have been a better option, not that I would like it much. He was the one who was brainwashed since he was fourteen after all. He was the one who kept on accidentally breaking his wife’s heart because of the gracelet.

While Cordelia was still hurt by Tatiana’s actions, she was farther removed from the situation. But because sHe’S tHe PrOtAgOnIsT, she had to be the one to do it. Not even of her own volition, but because she was being manipulated by a greater demon. Imagine all of your protagonists being so heroic and morally sound that they can’t even neutralize someone as twisted and dangerous and inhumane and this bitch without being physically magically controlled by Lillith herself. Is there anything more boring?

And what really makes me angry is that she finally gave in due to the death of one Christopher Lightwood, a character with whom she had no established dynamic. If this was CC’s plan all along, she could have made it so they had at least one single fucking conversation alone??? If the main catalyst for Tatiana’s death was Kit’s murder, then practically ANY OTHER CHARACTER a would have been better. Cecily and Gabriel and the others were in Idris but, once again, there’s Grace, Lucie, James, Thomas, Anna, Matthew, etc. Hell, even Rosamund Wentworth, who arrives pretty soon after Kit’s death, knew him longer than Cordelia!

*Ahem* Thank you for listening to my PSA

#chain of thorns #chot spoilers #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #tlh #tatiana blackthorn #grace blackthorn #jesse blackthorn #lucie herondale #christopher lightwood #james herondale #anti Cordelia Carstairs

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rey-jake-therapist · 5 months

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The Lying Detective, self hatred and acceptance of abuse

There's something I need to let out of my chest about Sherlock and this episode in particular, cause it's the one that really opened my eyes about something very important regarding Sherlock: he hates himself. He really does, and because he hates himself he believes he deserves all the abuse he gets from the persons he loves.

At some point he says he believed he thought he was an idiot, because Mycroft kept repeating he was the smartest one when they were younger. That was until he met "ordinary people" and realized he was actually, you know, very smart compared to others. And yet, he kept believing that Mycroft was way above him in terms of intelligence. He accepted it, and because he accepted it he trusted him to know what was better for him. And Mycroft, in return, felt entitled to let him believe that Redbeard was a dog and not his childhood friend, and to hide him that he had a sister, who was also a murderer, who had let said friend rot in a well. He felt he had to do it because he didn't trust Sherlock to handle the truth. He thought he was what? too stupid to understand? Too sensitive?

Now don't get me wrong, I love Mycroft as a character, and I know that he did all that "for Sherlock's good", but at the end of the day, lying, manipulate a child's memory and repeating him all the time that he's stupid was textbook abuse. And Sherlock wouldn't have accepted to be called stupid, and would have probably seen that Mycroft wasn't THAT intelligent if he wasn't so deep in self-loathing. But then how was he supposed to love himself if he was always treated like the "slow one" of the family by his own big brother?

When Molly slapped him not once, but THREE TIMES, because he was high, again he didn't flinch, didn't protest. It's not an attack against Molly, I understand why she was upset at the sight of the man she loved destroying himself, but my point is: he could have considered that it wasn't her business, he could have told her to stop. But again, if someone he respects like Molly believes he deserves to be slapped, then he does.

Now John. Sorry guys, that's the hard part I have to say out loud. John was an excellent friend up until a certain time, no argument. One could even argue, and be right, that Sherlock was the abusive one for a while: he treated him like an idiot -but then Sherlock thinks everyone's an idiot except for Mycroft, ruined his first date, unintentionnally (or not) ruined several of his relationships by being obnoxious around his girlfriends, played dead for two years instead of confiding in him like any good friend would do, made him believe they would both die only to hear him say good things about him, I mean... Sherlock's definitely not an angel and for quite a long time, he was rather a shitty friend too. I guess growing up without friends, not even your own sibling will do that to you, but it's an explanation, not an excuse for being an asshole to everyone.

And yet John accepted him as he was, and always forgave him, so of course Sherlock came to idealize him like he idealized Mycroft, for different reasons of course. For the record, I love Sherlock and John's relationship/friendship/bromance/romance/whatever it is. Up until TLD at least I found it... precious. Yes Sherlock was an ass, more than once, but he acknowledged it, and showed he wanted to be better: he not only apologized, but he also grew to become a better person, someone who would be worth of John's affection.

What happened in The Lying Detective, though... what the hell happened? So John was sad because he lost Mary. Understandable. Even if popular theories like to claim he never loved her, his despair and the fact that he keeps her ghost with him all the time said it loud and clear: John loved Mary, very much indeed. And he was mad at Sherlock who he considered responsible for Mary's death. It was also understandable, if Sherlock hadn't shut his big mouth, yada yada... Ah I love to see a a female character fridged so two male characters can suffer and grow thanks to her sacrifice . But then what we know... happened, Sherlock was high as a kite, to the point he was very close to losing it completely he lost it completely, he took a scalpel and John, well, stopped him. But then John lashed on him. He BEAT HIM UP LIKE A PULP, which was at this point completely unjustifiable because Sherlock was no longer a threat, and he would have maybe killed him in his effort if two male nurses hadn't stopped him. But this post isn't about John and his disturbing lust for violence, not really. It's about Sherlock.

What Sherlock did? Nothing. Not one time did he try to defend himself. He took all the hits, didn't ask John to stop, just once again... Accepted. He accepted that he deserved John's violence, even said John was entitled to do that because he had "killed his wife". And Joh doubled down, "yes you killed my wife". But HE knew it wasn't true. Sherlock didn't, though. He was sick because he felt as if he had killed Mary herself, and that's why he was so adamant to grant her her last wish. As someone who hated myself for a long time, I totally recognized the impulse to take the blame for everything bad that happens. That's what Sherlock does, all the damn time.

Violence between men is often glossed over because the old say "boys will be boys". After all it wasn't the first time that John beat Sherlock up, he had done it after Sherlock came back from the dead but it was just for laughs and giggles then, "haha so funny John assaulted him three times, look his noise's bleeding, lol", and also the audience thought that Sherlock deserved it after all, so... it was fine, sort of. Notice that there too, Sherlock didn't try to fight back and didn't ask John to stop. Like, I still don't undrstand why John punched him the last time: because he told him he missed the thrill of the chase? What was wrong in saying that? Except that it was probably true? I'm personally never comfortable with the normalization of violence between men on TV especially when only one is actually fighting the other, but that's just me I guess.

In TLD it was very different. It wasn't funny, and it was certainly not ok. And I was very upset when at the end, not only John didn't apologize to his best friend for physically abusing him, but Sherlock was the one comforting him at the end. The man had almost been murdered by a serial killer, before that his second role model beat him like a pulp for a crime he didn't commit, and he was still the one being strong for John.

I have a big problem with the way this matter was handled, because John's violence was just.... forgotten. And if it had been the only time that he had expressed his anger against Sherlock with his fists, I'd agree it was just a bad moment in their relationship even though he'd still need to apologize for making it ok. But here there's nothing that tells Sherlock that John won't do it again; nothing that guarantees that the next time Sherlock will upset him, John won't lash out on him again, and it will be acceptable because for some reason, violence against a man is somehow ok.

The idea is, I suppose, that there's no power imbalance like there is between a man a woman. If Sherlock wanted to fight John he probably could easily win, he's strong and has enough fighting skills for that. That's not the problem. There IS a power imbalance in that Sherlock will always believe that John is entitled to be mad at him, thus to beat him up if he wants. And since John apparently never apologized for assaulting Sherlock, I have no idea if he realized how wrong it was, and if he intends to change. I don't know about you, but personally I thought texting a woman in secret from his wife wasn't a big deal compared to what he did to Sherlock, and yet that was the only thing that, apparently, John felt guilty of.

Sherlock really broke my heart when he told John that by saving his life, Mary had given it a value. Which meant, basically that before Mary's sacrifice, his life had no value whatsoever, at least in his eyes. Let that sink in for a minute.

"The Lying Detective" is a very fitting name for this episode and for Sherlock in general, because Sherlock doesn't just lie about being almost killed by Culverton Smith, he constantly lies to himself.

He did it when he claimed he fell back into his drug habits "for a case" -if he wanted to attract the press/Magnussen's attention on him there was a lot of things he could have done, he did it all his life about being devoid of feelings and emotions, did it about the reason why he literally offered his life to Culverton; yeah he wanted to "save John Watson" and honor Mary, but it was also about ending his own suffering, a result he hoped to get at best by catching Culverton Smith, at worst by dying.

No wonder why when Eurus challenged him to choose between John and Mycroft, he chose to kill himself. That's actually strange that she didn't see it coming. Probably she didn't know him as much as she thought. He made that choice because he thought he was the one deserving to die. Not Mycroft, not John, not even Eurus... Of course it was also a calculated risk, as he had understood at this point that he was the only one Eurus wanted to keep alive because everything she did was about him for some reason. But I truly believe he would have rather pulled the trigger and shot himself rather than killing Mycroft or John. I saw once someone claim that Mycroft knew Sherlock would choose to save John anyway and that's why he wanted to make things easier, but I think nothing's further for the truth. Sherlock would have never chosen. It would have always been him.

#bbc sherlock #self loathing #the lying detective #emotional abuse #physical abuse #john watson #mycroft holmes #molly hooper #sherlock holmes #sherlock season 4

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crowzwhump · 7 months

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Vampire caretaker? And human whumpee, they’ve known eachother for a while but whumpee doesn’t know caretaker is a vampire and caretaker doesn’t know about the heap load of trauma ( possibly from early childhood abuse? Trust issues, ptsd ) untill whumpees parents come to visit while caretaker is over and they see how they treat whumpee

Whumpee ends up getting beat up ( however you want ) once caretaker finds them, they end up biting them ( no turning them, just giving a bit of venom )

Headcannon of mine on vampires Is that they have venom but instead of turning whoever they give it to, it’s like a drug, making that person go limp ( or just make their limbs really heavy ) and makes there heads feel fuzzy and ‘stuffed with cotton’

Whumpee would be 19 to early 20s?

Hi Lizzy!

I apologize for taking so long to get to this, I absolutely loveit though! And could not help but throw something together for it? It just gave me so much inspiration I had to figure out exactly how I wanted to do this, but I do hope you enjoy it. ^ - ^ゞ

Heavy Tw: Parental Whump | Mother Whumping Adult Child

Tw: Vampire Whump | Vampire Caretaker | Degration | Drugging | Female Whumper (Mother)

In a small, cozy cottage nestled deep within a secluded forest, Whumpee lived a life that felt like a sanctuary.

They had been through more hardships in their young lives than most could imagine, but their world had recently become a little brighter, thanks to the kind and caring stranger who had taken them in.

Unbeknownst to Whumpee, their mysterious caretaker was far from ordinary; they were a vampire who had watched over them since the night they had saved Whumpee from a violent attack.

The caretaker had kept their true nature hidden from Whumpee, never letting them see the fangs or the crimson eyes that betrayed their undead existence.

The caretaker wanted nothing more than to protect them and give them a chance at a peaceful life, and they knew that revealing the truth about themselves would only bring chaos and fear.

One chilly evening, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cottage, a sudden knock at the door sent a shiver down Whumpee's spine.

They weren't expecting any visitors, and their heart raced as they exchanged a nervous glance with Caretaker.

"I'll handle this," Caretaker assured them, forcing a reassuring smile as they strode to the door.

Opening it, Caretaker was met by the stern faces of Whumpee's parents.

Their arrival was unexpected, and it filled Caretaker with unease.

They had heard vague stories of Whumpee's past with their parents, but they had never gone into any great details about them.

"Caretaker, is it?" Whumpee's father inquired, his tone icy.

"Yes," Caretaker replied, his heart pounding as he tried to maintain composure.

Whumpee's mother, a woman of piercing judgment and strict principles, stepped inside without invitation.

"We came to see our child," she stated, her gaze fixated on Caretaker with a critical eye.

Whumpee stood frozen in the corner, their anxiety mounting.

They hadn't seen their parents in years, and the memories of their harsh treatment and punishments still haunted them.

Caretaker led the way, guiding the unwelcome guests to a sitting area.

The atmosphere grew tense as they settled in, with Whumpee's father eyeing Caretaker with suspicion.

"We're concerned about Whumpee," Whumpee's father began, his voice cold and unwavering. "We want to make sure they're on the right path."

Caretaker forced themselves to appear nonchalant, though every instinct screamed for them to protect Whumpee from their parents' judgment.

"They've been doing well," Caretaker replied, choosing their words carefully. "They've found some peace here."

Whumpee's mother took matters into her own hands, rising from her seat. "Come, Whumpee, let's have a private conversation."

Whumpee reluctantly followed her mother to another room, leaving Caretaker alone with their father, who continued to regard him with suspicion.

As the two were left alone in the dimly lit room, Caretaker couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

The tension was thick, and Whumpee's father's gaze bore into him with increasing intensity.

"Caretaker, is it?" Whumpee's father asked once more, his tone even colder than before. "You seem rather unconventional."

Caretaker gave a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep his composure. "I suppose I am. Whumpee's been through a lot, and I just wanted to help."

Whumpee's father's eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer, his voice a low whisper. "You may not be aware of this, but our child has a history. A troublesome one. They've caused us a great deal of pain."

Caretaker, unaware of Whumpee's tumultuous past with their parents, could only offer a falsely sympathetic nod. "I see. Well, people can change. Whumpee deserves a fresh start."

The conversation grew increasingly tense as Whumpee's father probed Caretaker with questions, and Caretaker did his best to deflect them while maintaining his facade of calm.

In the other room, Whumpee's mother confronted their child with harsh words and a cold demeanor, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed.

The air grew heavy with tension as Whumpee's mother unleashed a torrent of belittlement and cruel insults, targeting every insecurity and vulnerability she knew her child possessed.

"You always were a disappointment," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "No matter how hard we tried to correct your flaws, you remained a failure."

Whumpee, feeling the weight of her words, remained silent, determined not to give her mother the satisfaction of seeing their tears.

They had endured years of emotional abuse at her hands, and they had learned to build walls around their heart to protect themselves.

But Whumpee's mother was relentless.

Her anger escalated, and she stepped closer to Whumpee, her face contorted with rage.

Without warning, she lashed out, striking her child across the face with a sharp slap.

Whumpee's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and they tasted blood where their lip had split from the impact.

Still, they remained silent, refusing to give her the reaction she craved.

They knew that engaging in a fight would only make things worse, and they had grown skilled at enduring her cruelty in silence.

Undeterred, Whumpee's mother continued her physical assault, raining down blows on her child's already battered body.

With each strike, Whumpee's resolve to remain stoic only grew stronger.

They clenched their fists, determined not to let her see their pain.

After the torment had ceased, Whumpee's mother finally seemed to exhaust herself with her rage.

She stepped back, panting heavily, her eyes filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

"Perhaps now you'll learn your place," she spat, turning and leaving the room, leaving Whumpee battered and bruised but unbowed.

Whumpee remained on the floor, trembling in pain, their body aching from the physical assault.

They took shallow breaths, trying to regain some semblance of composure, as they heard their parents' voices in the living room.

"We're leaving," Whumpee's mother announced coldly, her tone still tinged with anger. "This place is a lost cause, just like our child."

As the front door closed with a resounding thud, Caretaker waited for the sound to fade before quickly rushing to check on Whumpee.

Their heart ached at the sight of their friend lying battered and bruised on the floor.

Kneeling down beside Whumpee, Caretaker's eyes were filled with worry and regret.

They gently cradled Whumpee's trembling form, apologizing softly to them.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this," they whispered, their voice filled with sorrow.

Feeling Whumpee's pain and vulnerability, Caretaker made a difficult decision.

With great care and tenderness, they lowered their head to Whumpee's neck and bit softly, injecting their vampire venom. The effect was almost immediate.

Whumpee's body relaxed as the venom coursed through their veins, spreading a warm, euphoric sensation that eased their pain.

The tension in their muscles melted away, and their mind became fuzzy but serene.

Caretaker held Whumpee close, cuddling them gently, and whispered soothing words until the pain and trauma of the evening faded into a distant memory.

Slowly, Whumpee's eyes grew heavy, and they drifted into a peaceful, healing sleep, safe in the arms of the vampire who had become their protector and solace in a world filled with cruelty.

Thank you again for taking the time out of your day to read, I wish you a wonderful day and send many Fuzzy blankies, cookies, and snacks to you all! I appreciate you for reading!

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chiffon-and-spice · 19 days

Text

(18+ MINORS DNI) He's A Violent Man, and His Heart's Decayed

Fic Inspo: April to Death

Johnny Slaughter/Sawyer x GN!Reader (18+)

A/N: I just want to say I do not condone this kind of relationship in any way, nor am I trying to glamorize abuse. This is just my take on how being in a relationship with Johnny would be. Fiction and reality are two very different things, and there will be triggering topics discussed in this fic. If you don’t like violence, this is definitely not the fic for you.

Abuse Helpline: 800-799-7233 (if a phone call is unsafe here’s a safe website you can visit, you’re not alone and there are always other options.)

Concept: You’ve walked down this road with Johnny so many times before, your feet have grown numb. At this point it’s hard to tell who’s crazier.

TW: Abuse, violence, self-deprecation, mutual abuse, smoking, blood

Content: Anal, rough sex, blood drinking? (idk if this should be a trigger warning or content…), voyeurism, masturbation, dom!Johnny, sub!reader

A man beyond saving. So tormented, trained like a dog on a leash, he is unable to do anything differently than what he's taught. Despite all the pain, the anguish, the anger, Nancy is the only family he's ever known. The only family he'd ever get. Johnny had been given a shit hand, and these were the cards he had to play. And another, with so little regard for their own self-worth, seemed unable to care about being saved from him.

You made your way up the familiar driveway, as you have done many times before. It was late, the moon barely a sliver in the sky, hiding behind a blanket of dark clouds. It didn’t matter how little you could see though, you knew this path like the back of your hand. Every little loose pebble, soft patch, and hidden crack or ladder.

The outside of Nancy’s may look warm, inviting, with white picket fences and brightly colored flowers dancing almost peacefully through the wind. But you knew better. You knew about the horrors that lurked within those doors. You hadn't come here about that though. As long as you didn't bother the family, the family didn't bother you.

Perhaps that made you just as bad as them, just as wrong and twisted. Any sane person would stay away, be terrified for their life. Ask for help for the many victims that had stumbled through. Then again, it was hard to be scared for something you had little regard for. What’s a little bit of murder?

The driveway and path were covered in a deep blue hue. The night air was somewhat chilly, though you seemed unbothered by the cold. Even without a jacket, no temperature could compete with the coldness Johnny handled you with. That was a chill you felt in your bones, that nestled into your chest and pricked at your heart like a thorn that couldn’t be shaken loose.

So why were you making your way back? Every step made your feet feel heavy with lead, though a part of you also felt as if you were burning holes in the ground.

You were in one of those angry moods, the scary ones where you were eerily calm. Every step is slow, quiet, across the gravel coated road. Calculated. You couldn’t recall if this walk was something you had done before or something you’d picked up from Johnny.

Your gaze drifted up to the top window of Nancy’s house, studying where her room would be. The curtains, like usual, were closed shut. It was fairly late, and you hoped that meant she’d be fast asleep. She’d never been too fond of you seeing her Johnny. Part of you wondered if the only thing keeping her from murdering you was knowing you were just as capable of doing the same to her. She didn’t have the same control over you as she did Johnny.

There was a part of you that felt almost… confident approaching Johnny's beat down shack. You had no weapons, no items but the clothes on your back, and yet there wasn’t much concern. No fear, as you raised your fist, pounding on the old shack door.

There was a familiarity in the action, almost like you’d done it a million times before. Even with a door in your way, you could smell the place almost as if you were standing inside. Part of you had always wondered if you’d ever get used to it. It was unsettling that you didn’t even have a reaction anymore. It wasn’t even the blood that bothered you, that was nothing unfamiliar. It was the grime, the dust, the mold that all turned your stomach. The maggots that no doubt crawled around within its confines.

You knew Johnny heard you, after a noise erupted inside. A few crunching cans on the other side and the low sound of rustling. Like someone was trying to let their presence be known, that they were intentionally ignoring whoever was outside.

"Alright Johnny, come on out now, I ain't gonna be waitin’ out here forever!" you called out, your voice scarily calm.

Too many thoughts raced through your mind. Your foot impatiently tapped on the old rotted floorboards, arms crossed, while you stared narrowly at the door. The only sound you heard at first was the faint chirp of the crickets outside.

It was pitch black, hard to see, though you knew the door had opened by the sound of it scraping across the floor. A familiar head slowly started to peak out, his dark eyes protruding from the doorway. There’s something unsettling about his smile, how his eyes scan over you, after he leans against the door frame.

He had looked at you like that so many times before, like he’d somehow just won some game. Or was reading you, studying which parts of your body would result in those screams he’d been so fond of. His stance is tall, his eyes cold, while he leans against the door.

The man smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and… something else you didn’t quite wish to discern. You wanted to scrunch your nose up, pretend the smell disgusted you as it should. Instead however it had an allure, something that drew you in. Probably because that smell was unique to Johnny.

Like always the man was calculated, precise with his wording. His hands, which usually contained thick leather gloves, were bare, a cheap cigarette poking between the fingers of the hand that currently rested on the frame above his head. He laughed a little upon recognizing you, an almost wolfish glint in his eyes. The man was alert, like he’d been anticipating your arrival. Of course he had.

You couldn’t help but study his other hand, which was wrapped tightly with white gauze. You remembered the blood, how it slowly poured down when you’d shoved your knife through his hand. The force he knocked you over with in response. It was a vicious cycle that should have told you both to back off.

With how much you already knew about Johnny’s tactics, there was no need to draw you in. No need for him to practice his usual charm. Instead, he simply took a puff from the cigarette, blowing the cloud not too far from your face.

“You’re back early. Did you not get enough?”

Johnny’s tone was casual, carefree as if this was just another conversation. Anyone listening in might hear his words and assume he was talking about his body. You knew what he was referring to though, not forgetting the faint bruises he’d marked your skin with. The fresh cuts that littered your body. You only scoffed. “You’re calm for someone who ended up with a knife in their hand last time I showed up…” you replied just as casually.

It was hard to believe that had only been a week ago. Then again, so many of your fights blended and blurred together. The black eye back in May, the broken ribs from June, the list could go on. In between you’d always managed to get a few good hits in yourself. No one had brought out that fire in you like he did.

The dark haired man took another drag from his cigarette, lips dried and thin, as his eyes darkened. Johnny stepped outside, a little closer, and perhaps in the past you’d have cowered away. Flinched. Winced at the anticipation. However this time, you simply stood, studying his fiery glare, almost daring him to come at you again. Not many walked away after a fight with Johnny, you were aware of this. You seemed to do it almost effortlessly though.

The man was tall, could easily overpower you, which he had done quite a few times. You could never bring yourself to be entirely scared of him though. Not when Johnny treated you differently. Not after the many times he’d let you walk away.

What unsettles you the most however, is the way his lips curve into a thin smile upon processing your words. He blows out a bit more smoke, dropping the cigarette carelessly on the wood and stomping it out. Despite it being so late, Johnny still wore one of his old tank tops, covered in whatever work he’d done that day. It’s too dark to tell if it’s sweat or blood.

He made his way towards you, and the closer he got the more you could smell it on him. You didn’t cower though, only meeting his gaze with the same intensity. Perhaps this is why he was so drawn to you. Why he could never bring himself to finish you off. There’s an air of intrigue, confusion, in someone that isn’t scared of the dark things you do the way they should be.

Johnny’s warm, exceptionally warm, and he raises his hand. You’re unsure whether to expect a smack or a caress. Both would be unsettling. You suppress a shiver, as he does the later, large fingers carefully running through your hair. You’d half expected him to be angry at you, but he’s just smiling.

It should be comforting, warm. The kind of smile that would bring joy to your partner, while his fingers twist and slip through your hair. It’s the exact opposite of comforting though, almost too perfect of a smile.

Johnny gently buries his nose in your hair, inhaling sharply. A normally tender gesture from most partners, but not from Johnny.

“I’m sorry…” his voice is soft, a faint whisper, and it jumpstarts your heart every time.

The words are gentle, stirring feelings inside of your chest you’d rather not think about. Your body melts and you feel warm in his arms. There’s also that tug though, that deep pain, that thorn shifting in your chest, because you know Johnny. Know him more than you’d care to admit.

You merely shake your head gently in response, pressing your forehead into his chest. There’s a tiredness in your stance, and you don’t know whether you hurt more for yourself or the man in front of you.

“I know you’re not… even if you want to be, you’re not. You’re incapable of feeling sympathy.”

There was a bleak and tired look in your eyes as you spoke, staring at the ground. A hollow apology, that’s all it was. All you’d ever received. Maybe once, you had believed those words, tasted them on his tongue, when you’d rush in after with a feral kiss. Could feel it in the sheets, quick to forgive every rugged apology. But after the first four times, it began to ring empty. You weren’t even sure why Johnny still said it anymore.

It certainly wasn’t to make himself feel better, he was incapable of feeling guilty of anything he did. Johnny could be so hard to understand at points.

You wished the man you’d met back in that bar all those months ago truly existed. The charming and charismatic guy who had pulled a chair out for you, offered to buy you a drink. Flashed you that tender smile, as he shared his sob story about being a poor farmer boy whose mother had been murdered. About having to support his family, often finding the bar to be the one place he could wind down. How he hadn’t recalled seeing a pretty thing like you ever in his life.

Johnny had been so kind those first few hours, managing to convince you to come home with him. He wasn’t quite aware of just who he was messing with however. It took about six minutes before you’d pulled a gun out on him and shot him in his arm. You could still see the scar now.

Johnny thought he could pull a fast one on you, had pulled out a knife and talked about carving your bones out of your pretty little flesh. That was his mistake, so caught up in talk, in the soft seduction of it all.

To his surprise though, you had come back, apologizing for the gunshot wound. Which then turned into the tidal wave that grew as your relationship. Johnny didn’t do labels, no, and you were lucky that you had even been allowed to come back. You knew you weren’t his lover or anything. Just thinking the word felt weird. It was more or less about ownership.

Even if he did love you, it was in his own fucked up way, and he’d never see you as an equal. He’d made that pretty evident. Though there was something there, something that made Johnny look at you differently than his other victims. Perhaps it was the only form of love he knew, maybe part of him wanted to feel bad for the things he did, even if he was incapable of doing so. Maybe Johnny wanted to care, but couldn’t figure out how.

Not that you were all that innocent either. Johnny wasn’t exactly your first rodeo of dealing with a guy like this. The cannibalistic thing was new for sure, but not the violence, and the yelling, and the inner destruction. Something about relationships like these got your heart jumping. You craved it.

Probably because there was an allure to having something so dark and evil, so sadistic, treat you special. Not that it made you feel special in a good way, but Johnny did treat you differently..

Johnny stood, tall and quiet for a moment, his hand dropping from your hair. His arms didn’t embrace you, as you pressed against him. He was like a statue, body warm, his chest not even moving. Part of you wondered if he was even breathing.

“You’re the one that keeps coming back,” Johnny replied quietly, shoving you away from him.

You half expected him to just lose it and pull out his knife. Twist it in your stomach and laugh about the whole ordeal. Staining your hands with red, as you try to push the blood back in. Kill you like he’d killed all the others. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try harder to kill you. No matter how intense the fighting got, Johnny always let you go.

“You’re the one that always lets me walk away.”

Johnny moved closer to you now, pinning you against the door. He had pulled out his knife in one swift motion, holding it under your chin. His eyes looked darker than usual, a snarl slipping from his lips. The movements are a reminder of just what he is.

“Exactly that, I let you walk away. You only still live cause I allow it. What the hell are you even doing here anyway? Thought I told you last time I didn’t want to see your fucking face again.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning into the knife a little, staring down at him through narrowed eyes.

“And I told you, you don’t make decisions for me Johnny. I’m not going to be controlled like one of your little victims.”

You both knew deep down it was practically impossible to keep apart. Even if you wanted to avoid Johnny, the man would hunt you down. Conveniently show up to a bar you lingered at or a store you were visiting. The worst reactions were the ones where you were with another man.

No matter how bad things got, you could never truly get away and neither could he. There was a sick twisted part deep down that both of you wanted this, craved it. Maybe even needed it.

Johnny presses the knife a little tighter against your neck, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t cut you yet. And for a moment you see a flash in his eyes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It’s that look that reminds you every time why you can never leave. As quickly as that sad look appears it’s gone, knife dropping, as he gives you a rough shove, moving you out of the doorway so he can open it.

Johnny doesn’t slam the door shut, his way of telling you to come in. You recover a little, barely even feeling how his arms had knocked into you, as you stumbled into the beaten down little building. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust in the darkness.

Like always, the smell is the first thing anyone notices. You can’t help but scrunch your nose up a little, wanting to cough and choke. It lingers in the back of your throat, stinging in your eyes. There’s several dirty dishes littering the counters and sink, the beer cans on the ground, his table filled with god only knows what, and his couch looked well worn, like someone had been laying down in it most of the day.

Still though, it’s more a discomfort thing than something that puts you on edge. You don’t wander around like a scared dog, judgment lingering in your eyes.

Johnny casually kicks his way through a few of the cans, swinging his fridge open. The inside of the fridge matches the room fairly well, a few flies buzzing around inside, as he reaches his hand in and grabs a can.

The environment is nothing new to you, and you slowly close the door, fully stepping inside. Johnny barely acknowledges your presence at first, throwing himself on the couch, and cracking his drink open. There’s no thought in his eyes, as he sits there, almost as if he’s alone, looking a million miles away.

Not uncommon for the dark haired man. The number of times Johnny’d just sit there, as if he was waiting for something.

You frowned softly, sitting on the couch. You knew if your voice had even an ounce of sympathy it’d be enough to set the man off. Johnny didn’t want to be coddled. He “didn’t need your goddamn sympathy,” you recalled him saying, after he had spent one night bleakly talking about how he had gained his face scar.

Johnny had been drunk, he usually was when he talked about stuff like that, and there was always a coldness to his voice. So casual as he spoke. Perhaps because this was his day to day life.

“Why?” Johnny finally said, his voice unreadable.

You stare for a minute, confused, as he remains staring ahead of you. At first you’re not even sure he’s talking about you, until he does turn. Johnny’s dark eyes are studying you, as if you’re the fucked up one here.

“Why?” you repeat, as if saying his question will make it make more sense.

There’s a hundred things he could be talking about and you wonder if it’s in reference to Nancy, his life, your life, or just a question he doesn’t understand.

Johnny rolled his eyes, throwing the still pretty full can across the room. It hit the wall with a low thud, the amber liquid splattering all over the floor. Like your confusion was so unreasonable. His voice is low, now snarling.

“Why do you keep coming back?”

The man is on you in a matter of seconds, his hands firmly placed on your shoulders, squeezing, as he pushes you back into the couch. Johnny’s towering on top of you, and he’s looking down at you like there’s something he’s missed. Some part of you he hasn’t observed, that’ll magically make it all make sense to him.

Johnny was usually good at reading people, understanding what made them tick, what to do to see that fear in their eyes. He never saw that with you though. It drove him crazy how you were just as unpredictable as he was. Johnny couldn’t make you scared like the others. “I could so easily kill you…” he continued, voice going quieter, while his hands moved from your shoulders to your neck. “Could just squeeze… apply the right pressure until your face goes blue.”

Johnny’s hands wrap around you, tightening their grip, but despite the aggression there’s an almost carefulness in how he handles you. A desperation, as he squeezes, just enough to cause pain. His eyes are piercing your own, almost looking, begging for a certain reaction, while you remain limp beneath him.

Johnny groans, pressing you deeper into the couch, as his eyes narrow.

“And you don’t even bat a fucking eye.”

While looking up at him, the determination in his face, the roughness in his grasp, it’s easy to see a monster. To think about what he’s capable of, the dangerous person he is. You can’t see that in Johnny though. His hands around your neck, his eyes hiding layers and years of pain, while he rests on top of you. All you can see is a broken man. The way he squeezed your neck, careful enough to not kill, told you he wasn’t all monster. There was something gentle in Johnny. Well, in his sense of the word.

You know better than to try and fix him, not that he’d even want it. Not that you’d ever be able to. Instead you reached out, tenderly caressing the scars on his arm. As if your fingers could mend all the broken cracks within him.

And he breaks… he softens his grip, shaking his head and flipping you on your stomach. Johnny’s hands aggressively grab your own, holding them behind your back, his voice quiet, as he whispers in your ear. His breath is hot and makes your whole world seem to freeze while he speaks.

This was how he handled things when they got too intimate… too personal.

“Is this what you came here for?”

His voice sends chills down your spine, as you hear the soft clink of his belt. It didn’t matter what your intentions were, this was how things always ended up. And you hated how much of a rush it gave you. Your whole body quivering, as you felt the leather tighten around your wrists.

Johnny’s heavy, his hands tracing along the curves of your body, voice still right on your ear, as he lets out a dark chuckle.

“That why you keep coming back? You can’t live without the feel of my hands pulling and grabbing at your body. Can’t get enough of the way my teeth dig into your flesh, while I claim every inch of you. Make you feel every inch of me.”

Johnny loved stroking his ego, but mostly he loved when you did it for him. The way your body was flush beneath his, as you nodded slowly, face still buried into the couch cushions.

You couldn’t even focus on his words anymore, too wrapped up in the anticipation of him. How your skin already craved his touch, while he squeezed at your hips, pulling them back. His mouth had moved off your ear, biting roughly down the side of your neck.

“Not so mouthy now are ya?” Johnny growled against your skin, hands slipping underneath your shirt. “That’s okay… I know how to make you talk.”

His hands are uncomfortably hot, rough, and calloused, as he plays with your body. Squeezing your hips firmly, moving along your sides. He reaches your chest, thumb brushing along your nipples. Johnny knows all your sensitive spots, which parts hurt the most, as he explores you. Mapping out your body with his hands.

Those same hands he’d used to kill people. There was a precise way in how he explored your body, knowing which ways to take you off guard.

You let out a low moan, sensitive to his touch. Johnny’s hands are hungry, body heavy, as he presses on top of you, continuing to move his mouth aggressively along your neck. It’s evident he cares little about not hurting you, biting harsh enough to pierce the skin. The spot feels a little wet and it’s hard to tell where or how much blood is on your neck due to the wetness of his lips.

Johnny’s warm tongue pokes out, caressing the flesh and cooling your new wound. His mouth is hot and a cloud of ecstasy is choking your brain. You can’t think straight, only whining slightly from the sensation. The noise seems to please the man, as he lets out a dark chuckle, hands moving to the front of your own pants.

“Almost got a word out of you…”

And this… this is why you can’t ever go away. Why you could never wish to be with anyone else. One fuck with Johnny, and he’d shown you things that no normal man… no normal person ever would. No sane person would be excited by it. Would be driven to the edge of this madness, pulling apart at the seams in a darker kind of pleasure. And if enjoying it meant you were just as fucked up then so be it.

You could feel your own arousal pooling hot in your stomach, between your legs, heat spanning all throughout your flesh. Johnny’s shack being cramped with no ventilation didn’t help either. You could feel sweat already starting to form along your forehead and back. His bite made you moan tiredly, hands pulling on your restraints a little.

It was impossible to sit still with the way he nipped and tugged at your body. Johnny didn’t have a gentle bone in his body. No warning before anything he did.

Maybe that was why sex with him was euphoric, different from the way anyone had ever treated you. It wasn’t just the degrading… the roughness, it was something darker. Something that turned your stomach in the sweetest of ways. Something he’d already told you. The thrill of putting your life in his hands, knowing he could kill you anytime if he wished. Of not knowing how he was going to end this.

Johnny’s grip is harsh, pulling your pants down with little to no care, fingers brushing between the fabric and your skin. A tight squeeze that sends chills throughout your body. His voice is little more than quiet excited breaths.

The man’s mouth moved off the small wound he’d made in your neck, trailing down your spine. The bites were still harsh, though you didn’t think he drew blood. Johnny was so unpredictable, you could never tell what he was thinking. What his intentions were. You could only close your eyes, quivering and getting lost in the sensation. His hands continued to hold your hips, rough and no doubt forming bruises.

There’s a familiarity in his touch. In the way his hot breath slides down your back, covering it in saliva. Every low grunt he makes sends your skin crawling. Bumps form along your forearms, the back of your neck, down your spine. Any and everywhere you had felt Johny before tingling in anticipation.

Killing and fucking were an art to Johnny. A practice he believed needed time dedicated to it. Time to do things right. Not in the romantic sense. He wasn’t trying to make you comfortable. There was no checking in. It wasn’t about appreciating the act itself. It was about the thrill, the build up and anticipation of it all. The stalking before the blade bites into his victim’s skin.

Johnny let out another rough snarl, teeth sinking into your lower hip. They’re sharp, rough, puncturing the skin once more, as you let out another low whine. Your body reacts before you can, quivering and trying to pull away.

“Quit fuckin’ squirmin'’,” Johnny snaps, pushing your head down into the cushions once more.

It’s softer than Johnny, and truth be told probably smelled a little nicer. Though that wasn’t entirely a big achievement. You tried to remain still, as his lips continued to suck on the sore patch of skin. You can’t see, but there’s a dark and sinister grin as he pulls away.

Your blood is running along his bottom lip, dark against his pale skin. The indentation of his teeth against your flesh, still warm, lingers like a ghost. It’s a faint buzz that makes you feel euphoric and it’s hot and cold all at once. Mind melted, twisted, as you heard the sound of his own belt being undone. Your stomach tightens in excitement, turning in the cushions to glance behind you.

Johnny isn’t focused on looking at you, there’s no care, as he eagerly fiddles with his jeans. He's careless even with himself. The man’s dark hair is a mess, falling loosely over his eyes. When you can’t see them, he has the face of an angel.

Soft cheekbones, pale and perfectly sculpted, a stark contrast to his sharp jawline. Johnny is beautiful. There’s no denying that. Like a snake. Scales slick, patterns captivating to the eye. You can’t help but want to reach out, touch it. One tender caress. Fingers slipping along his scales gently, tracing along the patterns as if you can understand just what they mean.

That’s all it takes, before the snake hisses, lunging forward. Teeth sink into your neck once more, pressing that venom into your skin. You can’t help but whine, feeling his hands pull on your hips.

It’s painful at first, like something’s tearing through you, hands quivering in your restraints. Not that he cared. Johnny continued to fuck into you aggressively, hips rolling into your backside. His breath lingers on your neck like a bad scent, and you can feel the smile in his teeth imprints.

“Quit being such a little bitch.”

His hands are so tightly on your hips, you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. You don’t care though. All you can focus on is how that pain rips into pleasure. How Johnny feels making you take every inch of him. His animalistic grunts, while he throbs against you. There’s such a force in his movements that results in your whole body lurching forward.

Johnny’s noises are low, like he’s trying to keep himself quiet, as he moans to himself. Like he can’t contain the pleasure, as he needily bucks into you. Your hips match his every movement, his hands guiding them to do as he pleases.

You know you’re in his control, and you want to hate it. His touch should feel dirty, his teeth rotten, but you can’t. You don’t.

You can’t hate the hot white pleasure that’s coursing through your brains. How every little grunt rushes blood between your legs. How when Johnny fucks you it makes you whimper like a bitch tied up in the hot sun. There’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing, how to please you.

“All that talk from before… talkin’ bout I don’t control you, you’re not one of my victims. Bullshit. You just roll over and take it while lying down. You like that though, don’tcha? You like that I own you?”

Johnny was doing things to you that made your mind fuzzy. You nodded softly at his statement. He could read you like a book. His fingers knowing all the right pages to bend. Spine worn out from the many times he'd opened you up. Devoured you whole, learning every letter of every word that was etched across her skin.

The man could crack your bones, tear your ribcage open, and feast on your organs and you’d still fade from life proclaiming you died at home. That you’d felt warmth in his touch, as his fingers clawed away at you. That his tongue only licked with the intent of bringing you pleasure. His teeth tore at your flesh, consuming you, because he wanted all of you. Johnny wanted to gorge on the darkest parts you locked away in the confinements of your mind.

Your body is quivering, squishing, beneath his much bigger weight. Johnny’s chest, hot against your back, as his hands glide up along your hips. They expand, fingers curving around your torso, as he pulls your body up.

Johnny’s large hands trace along the shape of your jaw, before grabbing it roughly, breath burning on the shell of your ear. The hand that isn’t grabbing your face is squeezing your waist, and Johnny’s ramming into you, deep and quick, as if it’s all that’s keeping him alive. His teeth clamp around your ear, another low growl slipping past his lips.

Then Johnny pulls his head away. There’s a lot on your face and you can’t tell if he’s become bored or impatient. The man turns you, until you’re facing him., a dark look in his eyes.

You can see a reflection of your own face, cheeks warm with arousal, eyes watering from tears pricking your eyes, and mouth slightly open to let out another low whine. Johnny hits that particularly sensitive spot in you, knowing just how hard to go.

Your body quivers all over in response, and you go lightheaded for a moment. His erratic movements, the way his hands moved along your body, and his teeth still marking your flesh. It’s all enough to make you feel like you’re about to pop like a cork bottle.

His thumb brushes along your bottom lip, prying your mouth open, as he groans. Johnny’s brows furrow a little, focusing, as he thrusts. His eyes close, and for a moment he almost looks pained. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. What memory he’s distracting himself from now by burying his cock deep within the confines of you.

As quickly as it starts however, it’s gone, and Johnny’s face returns to that hard look, eyeing you down. Looking into his face while he fucked you was something that he’d rarely give you the pleasure.

You study him, as if you can read what’s going on in his mind. Like you can make sense of Johnny’s actions. He’s a lot more open tonight than most, and for a moment you can even see a glimpse of pleasure in his own eyes. Cheeks flushing a little, before Johnny exhales quietly.

“Quit fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that or I’m gonna turn ya back over,” Johnny snarls.

Your expression quickly drops, while he fucks the concern off your face. It’s all you can focus on, as he pumps into you. You glare at him once more, body squirming, as you try to speak around the pleasure.

“Like what? I was just thinking about how good you’d look with a bullet in the back of your head.”

Johnny aggressively juts his hips into you, fingers curling around your jaw, as he grabs it, forcing you to be eye level with him. You’re worried for a moment you’ve gone too far, but there’s a gleam in his eyes. He lets out one of those low chuckles, before kissing you.

His tongue worms into your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip, as he swallows every noise escaping your mouth. The taste of Johnny should make your skin crawl. His breath was awful, tainted with alcohol, blood, and whatever else he’d probably put in his mouth throughout the day. You can’t bring yourself to feel discomfort though. It’s like you’re seeing stars, his movements sending your body upwards, fingers curling tightly around the confines of your belt.

You want so desperately to drag your claws down his back. To mark Johnny the same way that he marked you. You whined a little at the thought, wiggling in your restraints. It’s all too much, and you feel so close. Your thighs quiver a little, unsure how much longer you can hold on.

Johnny smiles once again, pulling away. He can read your body, while his chest presses against you. Johnny’s movements slow, a dark smirk on his face.

You can never understand how he has such good control. How he doesn’t burst, no matter how intensely the sessions get. Johnny seems so pleased with himself, pulling all the way out, and gently teasing you. Dangling that sweet release ever so close.

“I’m not so sure if I want to finish you now…”

“I’ll finish myself,” you snarl back, half tempted to reach down and push him in you yourself.

Damn restraints.

Johnny’s eyes narrow in response, rolling his eyes. His body continues to tower over you, but he’s smiling. Grinning. Like he knows something you don’t. Johnny’s hand moves from your jaw to your neck, running his thumb along a scar there and smiling at the memory.

“I’d like to see you try,” Johnny chuckled darkly.

Then as if to further prove his point, Johnny removes his hands completely off his body, sitting back. He leans against the arm of the couch, his body sprawled out. You study him, watching as Johnny brings his hand to his cock, gently massaging it. His fingers slip along the underside of it, touching it with a sense of familiarity.

“Me though… I can finish myself just fine.”

His words on taunting, while he continues to squeeze, his large hands easily wrapping around his length. Johnny fucks into his fist like he’s done a million times before, leaning his head back and groaning softly.

“Johnny!”

You can’t hide the desperation in your voice. The frustration as your own body now remains untouched. There’s a fire coursing through your body, as you squirm once again on the couch. It didn’t help that watching the man play with himself made your insides tingle. There was something so hot… so tempting… in watching how he twitched in his hand. How Johnny’s cock responded to every little touch he did.

The man wasn’t sensitive by any means, but if you knew the right buttons to push. Johnny let out another low moan, still not paying you any mind.

“I’m almost there sweetheart.”

You chewed your bottom lip, frowning a little, as a low whimper escaped your lips once again.

“Please…”

Johnny smirks a little, his grip around himself loosening, as he opens one eye. Like he’d just won some sort of game. Then he lets go of himself, creeping back towards you.

“Please what?” Johnny asks softly, his voice low, as his hand moves down, fingers gently toying with you.

Part of you wants to laugh. Your comment about shooting him actually had gotten under his skin. Upset him. You knew Johnny well enough to know the thought of not needing him to get off pissed him off more than anything. He was desperate for that confirmation. It would’ve been cute, had Johnny not been a narcissistic cannibal.

“Please… I wanna cum,” you finally caved, staring up at him. “Need you to make me cum.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even give a satisfactory smile, before slipping back into you. He’s quick, movements needy and desperate, while he grinds against your backside. The way his body responds, how quickly and deeply he’s moving into you tells you he wasn’t kidding.

Johnny had really worked himself up while fucking his hand.

Not that it mattered though, you were close to, feeling your stomach tighten into hot coils, while a rush of heat slipped through your body. It all felt better the second time, already used to his size. Your body was his for sculpting, as you moaned once more, closing your eyes.

“Ngh… Johnny… Fuck Johnny I-!” you’re cut off from your own pleasure, as your orgasm tears through your body.

It’s practically impossible to sit still, quivering beneath his body. Johnny’s free hand clamps over your mouth, as if he can prevent your release, while bucking into you with a desperate thrust. His own eyes close, voice turning into a series of low grunts.

“Ahhh…” Johnny whispers quietly, feeling your release slip out, coating his stomach.

That alone seems to be enough to send him over the edge. Johnny stays buried, as his cock twitches within you. Ropes of sticky white cum shoot out, flooding your senses. That doesn’t stop him from sloppily thrusting into you though, moaning softly, while his hand still covers your own mouth.

There’s something animalistic in his release, holding himself in you for a little longer, until he’s no longer twitching. Then Johnny pulls out, cum spilling on the already stained couch.

His grip loosens, hand falling off your mouth, as he catches his breath. You come down from the high yourself, gasping, as you study him. Johnny’s eyes are blank, as he slides off the couch, retrieving his pants. You half expect him to dismiss you, tell you to go home.

Instead however, he undoes the belt on your wrists, saying nothing. Johnny slips his shirt off, making his way to the back of the shack, where his bed remained.

You sat there for a moment in your post orgasmic haze, picking up his shirt that he had thrown carelessly on the ground. You can’t help but sniff it softly, smiling, as you pull it over your head. Then you follow Johnny, watching as he’s laid, stomach first in bed.

You wonder if he’s asleep for a moment, but he seems to sense your presence, shifting in his bed. Johnny doesn’t turn his head to look at you though.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?”

You never expected tenderness or praise after your activities. Hell, even the silence wasn’t anything new. It was not being immediately kicked out after that had your head turning. You stepped forward cautiously, crawling into the bed. Testing the waters.

Johnny doesn’t speak again.

You settle beneath the covers, wishing so desperately you could read his mind. Could hear what he was thinking. You’re surprised when he stretches his left hand out a little, turning it over to reveal his palm. You study it, expecting a knife to grow out of it. Or for Johnny to use the moment where you’re caught off guard to pull a knife out.

You hesitantly reach out, pressing one finger lightly into it at first, before flattening your whole hand. You’re surprised when his fingers curl around your hand, and not in a way where the grip is overbearing. You study him, not wanting to ruin the moment, as you settle in the sheets.

As quickly as you hold his hand, Johnny seems to drift off, his snores light and quiet. He looks peaceful in his sleep, and it’s hard to imagine this man as a cold and calculated killer.

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