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#tw: ab*se
downbadf0rficppl · 2 months
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someone's there
Bucky x F!Reader
Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack
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You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.
You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.
Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.
And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.
The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.
You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.
She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"
Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.
Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.
You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.
Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.
The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.
The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.
Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.
The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.
You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.
The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.
"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.
The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.
"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.
You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.
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By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.
You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.
But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.
To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.
You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.
You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.
As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.
Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.
He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.
You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.
You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.
He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.
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You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.
It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.
You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.
You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.
"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.
"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.
"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.
"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."
"The pizza place?"
"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."
You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.
"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.
"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.
"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."
"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.
The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.
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"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."
June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.
Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.
Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.
You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.
Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.
A teenager was on the phone with the police.
You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.
The door swung open, letting in a draft.
Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.
Sirens.
"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.
A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.
"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.
You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.
"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.
"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.
You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.
You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.
"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"
He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."
You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.
"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"Take me home, Buck."
fin.
buy me a coffee
1K notes · View notes
d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year
Text
Someone's there.
Bucky x Reader
Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack
AN: This is definitely not what I intended to write when I started but anyway. Have good day my dudes!!!
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You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.
You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.
Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.
And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.
The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.
You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.
She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"
Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.
Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.
You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.
Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.
The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.
The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.
Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.
The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.
You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.
The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.
"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.
The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.
"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.
You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.
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By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.
You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.
But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.
To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.
You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.
You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.
As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.
Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.
He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.
You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.
You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.
He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.
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You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.
It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.
The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.
You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.
You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.
"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.
"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.
"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.
"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."
"The pizza place?"
"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."
You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.
"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.
"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.
"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."
"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.
The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.
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"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."
June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.
Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.
Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.
You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.
Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.
A teenager was on the phone with the police.
You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.
The door swung open, letting in a draft.
Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.
Sirens.
"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.
A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.
"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.
You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.
"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.
"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.
You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.
You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.
"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"
He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."
You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.
"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.
"Take me home, Buck."
2K notes · View notes
gay-dorito-dust · 1 year
Note
Hello! I want to make a petition for jason todd with a reader who basically has a personality and background of yui komori, that is, she is super kind, sensitive, shy and who went through a very traumatic situation related to kidnapping and abuse and who because of that she is very scared and has post traumatic stress disorder, i hope it's not so dark for you and i don't want you to write this if you don't want to.
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⚠️ I don’t believe I accurately depicted PTSD in this…like at all, most of my info on it came from the NHS website on PTSD. So please take this depiction with a pinch of salt.⚠️
Jason has a body littered with scars, wether it be the ones on his body, his heart or his mind. Scars that could turn anyone away and despite knowing that he has the ability to push you away whenever he wanted, to offer you an opening to leave when things started getting serious, he never could when you held his face in your hands and looking at him with those worried eyes of yours; Looking through him and into his soul as though he was anything but a broken man.
Jason becomes soft, sweet and overbearingly domestic when he’s with you because all he wants for you in your relationship was the best treatment, for to him, you were the most precious thing to have ever walked into his life and he never wants to take advantage of that. To Jason, to take advantage of a good thing were a bastard move and those who did that sort of thing weren’t worth their salt nor worth their partners time nor love.
There were days where Jason would stop reading and instead watch what you were doing from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as he vowed to himself to never let moments like these slip from his fingers, to never let you slip from his fingers and protect you to the best of his abilities.
Jason would be willing to do anything you wished/desired, he believes that if he were to find some interest in your hobbies, he’d find all the more things to share with you and receive in return. It’s his most favourite thing in your relationship, when you share things and in return learn even more things from the other.
Jason has always been taken aback by everything you did for him and even though you knew he could do them himself but you always insisted that you could help him as payment for everything he’s done for you in return and how you felt helpless and or useless for standing on the side lines whilst he patches himself up from his nightly vigilante activities.
He’d always tell you that it wasn’t your responsibility to clean up after him but whenever he’d come home, nursing a couple more bruises and cuts then usual, you were already out of your shared room with the first aid kit with a determined look on your face as you tell him to sit on the nearest flat surface as you disinfect his wounds and ice his bruises.
Meanwhile Jason would stare at you adoringly, only snapping out from his stupor when you tended to a particularly nasty would on his side causing him to hiss out a harsh ‘fuck.’ Causing you to drop everything in order to apologise profusely for causing him more harm and it wasn’t until then that Jason clocked how you became rigid and on the defensive within the blink of an eye; all the while with a frightened look upon your face and how you’d made yourself look small compared to him as though you were trying to show that you were of not threat to him.
Jason took this sudden moment of realisation to recall the moments where his aggression would slip out accidentally and how you’d react by way of flinching, backing yourself into a corner, your breath hitching in your throat, avoidant eye contact or straight up apologising for things you had nothing to do with whatsoever.
Originally he was pissed that you had past experiences of what he assumed were abusive and or manipulative relationships but was quick to realise that by giving into his anger would only make you more hesitant in opening up to him about your past, your problems and might even cause a crack in your relationship.
So he calmed himself down through some deep breathing, clearing away his mind of some violent thoughts aimed towards the people that had dared in laying their hands on you with harmful and the most vile of intentions; before looking over at your scared form with soft eyes and said; ‘you should never be made to apologise for things that aren’t your fault or doing, sweetheart. You just caught me by surprise is all, we’re alright, we’re okay.’
‘You. did. nothing. wrong.’ He states firmly but what broke his heart even further was your soft response of ‘okay.’
The next time something similar happened was when you began experiencing nightmares of your time being a sacrificial lamb for a household of vampires, stuck in the middle of nowhere. You honestly thought you were going to die there with how often they fed off you that you still got the scars from every place that they’ve ever fed from.
sometimes you’d have moments where it was as though you were stuck in that household again, experiencing the piercing of fangs digging your skin again and again, and again, and again, and they’d always occur in the parts of your body where you’ve been bitten before, one, twice, even multiple times. You would even remember the feeling sensation of lightheadedness from how ‘carried away’ they’d get during their feeds.
It didn’t matter whether or not they needed to feed on you as often as they did but it wasn’t like there was anything you could’ve done to defend yourself. You were a human going up against the supernatural, you were fated to loose that fight real fast and you didn’t wish to think of what could’ve happened has you died trying; you wondered even less about what they’d do to your body afterwards.
you reframed from looking at them when you got changed for bed or went into a shower. Hell you barely looked into any reflective surface in fear of your eyes drifting towards the fang marks that littered your neck and be transported back to that hellhole.
One night, it had gotten so bad to the point where you couldn’t bring your self to going back to sleep and seek a safe haven within the kitchen, where you helped yourself to liquid magic in the form of tea/coffee; Focusing on the taste and the way it goes done your throat more so then anything but also being hyper aware of your situation, going so far as to bring down with you a metal bat that Jason got for you.
Not those aluminium ones that bent after a couple of hits, but bats mad out of proper strong stuff that would do more damage to the recipient of the blows, rather then the bat itself.
So when Jason awoke to you not being in bed, he’s immediately presuming the worst has happened and is quick to act by flying down the stairs, but back in the kitchen the frantic sound of feet clambering down the stairs had you already on your feet, bat in hand as you readied to defend yourself.
‘Woah! Sweetheart! It’s me!’ Jason would say, hands in the air when he noted the bat in your hand. ‘Nightmare?’ He’d ask, having been in your place a fair share of times. So if there was anyone to note the signs, it was Jason. ‘Yeah.’ You said weakly, still gripping the bat despite feeling better knowing that it was only Jason. Your body however was still very much coming down from acting upon your inbuilt fight or flight instincts.
‘Mind if I join you?’ He then asked, gesturing to the space next to you.
‘Please.’ Was all you said.
‘Okay.’ With that Jason made himself a strong coffee and stood on the other side of the kitchen as to give you space but he could tell you appreciated him not delving deeper into it and he couldn’t blame you, the trauma of the past never truly goes away and it’s never an easy topic for one person to tackle on their own.
Right now you can both attempt in catching up on those shows you’ve been meaning to catch up on tougher.
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eggseabutter · 1 year
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A not so very happy Christmas for a hedgehog (1/2)
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lacallemojada · 1 year
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Maya and Carina {LINES AND LYRICS}
- inspo 
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cassiaallen · 9 months
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I have had this in my notes forever, and since I’m not sure if I’ll ever turn this into a fanfic, I thought I’d post it here.
A lot of this is my own version of canon, but it’s also partly inspired by wonderful accounts such as @halfblood-princes-crown, @moonlightdancer26 and more.
Hope you enjoy!
Severus Snape’s Death Eater Journey
-Eileen married Tobias because she was the eldest of her siblings and thus the "heir" and hated it
-she was in Gryffindor (hat stall, almost in Slytherin)
-Tobias was a misogynistic wife-beater and child abuser
-he hated magic
-he didn’t like feeling his wife was superior to him
-he beat his wife to "get the magic out of her" and when that didn’t work, he did the same to his son
-Severus started to resent T when he was about 5
-his first bit of magic showed during a time when he was defending himself against his father
-he started thinking "are all muggles this bad?", but slightly changed that view whenever he spoke to his muggle neighbours and the Evans family
-Sev is excited to go to Hogwarts as he thinks he can finally escape his family’s tormenting
-he latches onto Lily as she’s A) magical (and thus, an "outsider" like him) and B) a complete contrast to everything he had ever known
-encounter in the train 01.09.1971
-at first, he brushes it off
-Lily being Sorted into Gryffindor upsets him mainly because it reminds him of his miserable home life (Gryffindor as a symbol of badness)
-first week of school, J&S play a prank on Sev
-they find his reaction funny, play some more pranks on him during the next few months and decide to make him their main target
-part of J&S detentions are the result of Sev telling prefect Lucius (this in turn contributes to their hatred of Sev and Slytherin)
-the pranks are physically harmless at first, "just" humiliating
-Sev throws himself into his studies, becoming a very skilled wizard
-in year 2/3, the "pranks" become more and more physically violent
-in year 4, Sev accidentally hexes an OC as he believes them to be one of the marauders (he just saw someone coming in his direction from the corner of his eye)
-he apologises and takes the OC to the hospital wing
-the only people that somewhat listen to him when it comes to the M are Slytherins
-he is not close to any of them though
-he starts hanging out with Avery and Mulciber
-he’s happy to be somewhat included, so he doesn’t openly criticise their anti-muggleborn views
-despite his friendship with Lily, Sev associates the Light™️ with his oppressors
-he begins to learn more about the Dark Arts to fight back (he focuses on the opposite of what his bullies stand for)
-he hears slurs in his common room all the time and often they refer to his bullies (which is largely why he calls Lily that)
-he never says the slur out loud, only in his head/under his breath
-one time Sev and Mulciber bitch about the Gryffindors/his bullies in particular and Sev calls Remus + Peter the slur under his breath (he wants to get back at them for all the pain they’ve caused him by supporting J&S)
-Sev says he dislikes an OC as much as the M, which leads to people believing he calls everyone of Lily’s birth the slur
-January 1976 Werewolf Incident
-February 1976 Mulciber tries doing something to Mary MacDonald ("They don’t use Dark Magic though.")
-Sev's anger and bitterness increases as Dumbledore forces him to keep quiet about the WI
-May/June 1976 Lake Incident (+ failed apology)
-Sev comes home that summer to find out his father had (accidentally) killed his mother ("She fell down the stairs.")
-the summer holidays are awful as A) Sev misses his mum and B) his father now takes all his anger out on him
-he spends as much time outside as possible
-he spends some time on the playground where he first saw Lily
-he writes her a letter, delivers it personally, and Lily’s parents promise to give it to her (she never responds)
-year 6 is the worst bullying ever, as J&S A) realise Sev no longer has Lily’s support and B) Sirius’s disowning fuelled their anger at Slytherins
-Lily pointedly ignores him
-Sev's only safe haven is the Dark Arts, but he is also hesitant as this is what drove Lily (=the Light) away
-due to the increased bullying that year, Sev ends up in the hospital wing every other week
-summer 1977 is when he starts getting caught in the loop of "I want power to protect myself from my pain (J&S, Gryffindor, everything they represent)" and "but I don’t want to commit evil acts (Cruciatus Curse etc)"
-through spies at Hogwarts (Lucius?) Voldemort finds out about a skilled and vulnerable Sev and starts preying on him
-he is on the fence, but when he finds out Lily is dating James (his tormentor) in 1978, that tips him over the edge
-his motivation for joining the DE is revenge for the pain the light side caused him (the M bullying, Dumbledore covering it all up, Lily "betraying" him by joining his tormentors), gaining power to protect himself against future attacks, and to protect Lily from "their clutches"
-he comes home that summer to find out his father died in a car accident (he was driving while drunk), so he owns the Spinner’s End house
-he receives the Dark Mark a few months after graduation September 1978
-Voldemort instructs Sev to use his home to make potions for the DE
-he occasionally takes part in battles, but during his first year, his main job is brewing potions
-while spending so much time at home, he goes through his old belongings and discovers things from his friendship with Lily
-guilt starts to manifest, but the DE are the first people who value him and his skills and don’t make fun of him, so he ignores their pure-blood ideology even though he doesn’t believe in it himself
-in 1979/1980 Voldemort starts using Sev as a spy as he recognises his talent for it during previous battles
-15.05.1980 the Prophecy
-August 1980 Voldemort decides to go after the Potters and guilt hits Sev in the face so hard he can barely breathe
-"well, I don’t care about Potter, but I can’t leave Lily dead or unhappy"
-asking Voldemort to spare her (had he asked for the whole family, it would have been suspicious)
-asking Dumbledore to spare all ("Anything.")
-starts teaching at Hogwarts (V believes it is to spy on D but it’s actually the opposite)
-Halloween 1981
-guilt and grief times ♾
-"Always."
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traumadumpwriter · 1 month
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Heavy trigger warning! This story includes heavy themes of ab*se, r*pe, self h*rm, mental illness and violence.
You can check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!
All likes and comments are massively appreciated
Freedom: A John Shelby mini fic
Chapter Seven: 5217 words
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Alice had stayed leant into John's side for the whole walk home, his arm on her waist making her feel safe in the dark Birmingham streets. They were both still covered in blood, illuminated in the occasional fire or streetlamp - but of course no passerby dared to question them.
John felt extremely protective of Alice, wanting to get her home as soon as possible and away from the preying eyes of men. He was hardly surprised that David was stupid enough to have attempted the vile act - having an intense dislike for the man instantly upon first glance - but with him, Tommy and Arthur in the building; that was incredibly stupid.
"He's lucky he's still fucking alive. Should've bloody killed him. Shouldn't have let Alice get her hands dirty. Should've taken her into the back room and then shot the cunt myself." His thoughts began to fester and he started to feel irritation and self doubt until Alice's voice broke the still air.
"You know, one of the first nights I came back, I had a dream about you." She sounded amused; like she was telling a joke rather than admitting a deep subconscious desire. "I only ever really had nightmares, so I took it as a sign."
He wanted to tease her, to ask if it were dirty. But he found himself unable to talk as her rapid mood swings once again left him temporarily dumbfounded. He didn't know wether to comfort her or be scared of her.
Alice on the other hand, was just happy to be in John's arms; the nightmare of that day quickly fading from her mind as she focused on the handsome man, unaware of his stress.
"I was in the caravan, dark and alone. Then I was falling, like the floor just disappeared or something, and suddenly I was on the high street, surrounded by all these people... I was trying to get through the crowd, away from my husband. He was chasing me and I was shouting out for someone to help me, but no one did." John's eyes flicked from her lips to the pavement ahead as she spoke, intently listening to each word but also paranoid of any man who drew too near.
"Then you were there.. And you took my hand. And everything was okay." She playfully scoffed before looking up at John. "Do you ever dream?"
He sighed. On any other day the realisation that he'd seeped into her subconscious as a knight in shining armour would surely give him quite the kick, but today was a bad day. He was tired and stressed out; his mind going from one bad place to another. And her question didn't help, it seemed tedious compared to the real troubles on his mind.
"Yeah. I dream." He replied bluntly. "Bad ones usually."
His annoyance was clear in his tone and Alice immediately stopped walking, crossing her arms.
"Why are you angry? Is it me? Did you lie?"
He turned to her with an equally annoyed look. "Lie about what?"
"About being okay with what I just did."
Another sigh escaped his mouth although this one was more of a groan as he looked down at her subtly insecure face.
"No, I'm not exactly feeling fine and dandy about you doing Blinder work, nor you slitting your wrist in front of us like it were nothing.. But I didn't lie, the cunt had it coming." He answered.
"So why the mood then?" It was almost like she hadn't heard anything that had come out his mouth other than 'I didn't lie' - it was all she'd asked for after all.
"Because of what I just said. You shouldn't be doing blinder work, it ain't right." His voice got louder before going quiet again as he started to rant more to the sky than to Alice. "I should've gutted him that first night he was in there giving you hassle. Then he would've never had the chance to bother you tonight. And I should've taken that bloody knife out of your hand before you did anything stupid."
"You shouldn't blame yourself." She cut off his ramble and stepped towards him, gesturing to continue their walk home. "I liked it."
He hesitated before putting his arm back around her; feeling almost uncontrollably submissive to her gaze. But he did it nonetheless and started to walk again. The house was only a minute away.
"Yeah I could see that." He let out an awkward tut. "And that's not the point."
"So, what is the point?"
There were a million and one points. All of which he knew would fall onto deaf ears. Alice clearly wasn't feeling particularly receptive that night and she could be hard to get a point across to on her good days. The only thing that really, truly mattered in that moment was that he had her in his arms and she was safe.
"It doesn't matter." He grumbled before sliding the key into the front door. "Just don't fucking cut yourself again, you could've hit a vein or artery or something."
He didn't look at her, instead choosing to focus on the door when he spoke those words. It made him feel awkward, giving an instruction like that to her as if she were a child.
"It's not like she'll listen anyway." He thought sourly but then she suddenly stood up on her toes and planted a short kiss on his lips, changing his tone instantly.
"If it makes you feel better I won't cut my arms." Looking up through her thick lashes with genuine, palpable care, John let the knot in his stomach loosen slightly and a smile tug at the corners of his lips.
"Or just don't cut anywhere." He said with another sigh before softly planting a kiss on her forehead.
This kiss was longer as he held her for a moment, taking in all that had happened that day from start to finish; it had been a blood soaked one and he needn't think of anymore.
"I suppose you'll be boiling the water for a bath." He said once he pulled away. "Given the state of you and all."
Alice would've usually scoffed or rolled her eyes at such a comment but she could tell that John was feeling sensitive so she refrained from it, instead smiling up at him with star filled eyes. There were a few spots of blood on his face - light splash back from David or herself - but mostly it was his hands and shirt that were stained red.
"Yeah I was gonna. You too I'm guessing?"
"Yeah. I'd invite you to join me if you weren't such a danger to knobs."
This did earn an eye roll, playful though as they finally stepped in the front door.
"Yeah yeah. Count yourself lucky."
—————
A few weeks later and that incident had put some more pep in Alice's step. It had made her feel stronger and prouder - more back to her old self.
She'd even bragged about it to Ada, about how she could've killed the man in a swift move if she'd wanted but had shown the restraint to not do so. Her friend had mixed feelings about the whole situation, as did Polly who'd heard of it through Arthur.
The matron of course said nothing about it to Alice; mostly stewing silently on her worries for the girl and the guilt it brought. There had been one time she'd discussed it with Tommy in his dimly lit office.
"You three just let her cut her wrist, then you didn't even kill the bastard who tried force himself on her. What if she'd gone too deep and bloody died?" She hissed, watching Thomas take a deep drag of his cigarette as he thought over her words, his face devoid of emotion as per.
Finally he replied "But she didn't" earning an irritated tut from his aunt.
"Do you even care? You know that your brother is completely in love with her and is no doubt going to ask to marry her. Does that mean nothing to you?"
Another sharp inhale of smoke before he spoke, meeting Polly's intense gaze.
"You're not the only one who made a promise, Pol."
"But I'm the only one who seems to bloody care about keeping it!"
Ada on the other hand had expressed direct concern to Alice but it fell upon deaf ears as she insisted she was fine and that her self inflicted injury was "no big deal."
When Alice wouldn't listen, she vented to her husband instead. He'd been around more as the summer ended and autumn drew near, buying Karl and Ada new warm hats and gloves and it almost made Ada forget how much she hated him when he was away. It wasn't until she told him about light details of the David incident that she remembered why she hated him so.
"At least she can defend herself." She had protested to Freddie, after ranting and shortly regretting it as he called Alice a litany of insults.
"The girl is a fucking psycho. You need to stay away from her. And keep her away from Karl!" He'd demanded, causing a huge fight between the two.
Meanwhile, John had been trying not to worry about her but struggling not to. The image of the woman slicing her wrist with no apprehension, no fear, no reaction, had embedded itself in his brain and with it a litany of new fears.
He always knew that she was unpredictable and he always knew that she'd done things like that as a kid, he'd seen it for gods sake.
But seeing it now was different. It wasn't a distant shock anymore; something that could be ignored and left for someone else to deal with. Instead it was at the forefront of his mind as everyday he realised more and more that he really loved this woman, she wasn't just some fantasy anymore - and as much as he wanted to hurt any man who dare even approach her - she was her own biggest threat.
"I just don't bloody get it." He sighed to Arthur after a long day at the shop. Alice was still serving pints from the bar and chatting merrily to customers whilst the two spoke in their booth.
"Why the fuck would you want to do that shit to yourself? It's like she don't care if she dies or not!"
Arthur also sighed, wanting to comfort his brother but having no good answers.
"I don't bloody understand it either." He muttered before taking a big gulp of his drink. "Maybe one day it'll make sense."
"Nah." John quickly protested with a scoff, his eyes remaining fixed on the wooden hatch in the wall, like she would reappear through it at any moment with a fresh drink. "She hides things. I don't even wanna know what she does to the rest of her body-"
Arthur let out a rude chuckle to interrupt him, banging his drink down on the table before proclaiming "What, you mean you're this soft for a bird and you ain't even fucked her?" with a typical manly leer.
John shot him a sharp glare, tutting and nodding sarcastically as he started to feel a defensive anger rush to his head like air to a balloon.
"Look, don't fucking talk about her like that, alright?" He aggressively raised his voice, much to the somewhat surprise of his brother.
Then all of the air was gone. He was at a loss for words again, as too often seemed to be the case with Alice.
"She ain't like that.. she- she-" John started to stammer and then paused for a moment, trying to condense all his thoughts into one sentence. It was through scouring his mind that he suddenly remembered the rage he'd had for Jones and how he was the one who made her like this. He was the one to be blamed.
"The fucking scum bag who took her.. he did some real rotten stuff that I don't think she's ever gonna forget." John finally finished with a bitter sneer before downing his drink.
"Well why haven't we bloody blinded the cunt?" Arthur retorted.
Another frustrated sigh fell from his brothers lips.
"I fucking sent Johnny Dogs on the trail. Can't bloody find him." He answered shortly. "And if Johnny can't find him, how are we gonna?"
"Bloody ask her mate."
"She don't talk about none of that.. but I wanna make things serious. I think she's my one." His demeanour became more solemn as he confessed to his brother.
Whilst their conversation got more intense, Alice was on the other side of the wall blissfully unaware. It had been fifteen days since the incident with David and John had spent most nights with her since. When the clock hit eleven and Alice was closing the pub, he'd turn up at The Garrison to make sure she was walked home safe. Or if the path was clear, they'd end up talking for hours between free liquor and passionate kisses.
She hoped that tonight would be one of those nights, daydreaming amongst pouring drinks. But alas, John kept ordering and ordering yet never inviting her in which struck her as peculiar, especially as the night drew to a close.
"Are him and Arthur really just getting wankered by themselves on a Tuesday?" She thought, slightly amused despite her disappointment.
John answered her internal question by suddenly slamming open the cubby door, drawing all attention to the brothers for a second before everyone meekly returned to their conversations. His eyes instantly went to Alice's and a smug smirk crossed his lips once he saw that she too was intensely watching him.
It was like she could read his mind, a blush forming on her face as she realised he'd caught her staring. Not that it really mattered, but his smirk made her feel like it might.
He stepped over to her with a drunken swagger, going straight behind the bar and grabbing her hand.
"John! What are you-" She started to ask but he leant in close and moved his other hand to the small of her back.
"Arthur will close up. Come with me." He whispered in her ear, sending a quick wave of shivers down her spine. The smell of liquor on his breath almost sent her into a panic as a reel of bad memories flashed before her eyes, but that panic was quickly subsided by John's comforting, tobacco and cinnamon laced scent swinging her back into reality.
"Okay." She nodded and squeezed his hand to which he immediately grinned and pulled her away, swiftly leading her through the front door and out into the street.
There was an apparent gleam of excitement across John's face - something that made Alice giggle and her stomach flip.
"Where are we going?" She called to him from behind as he pulled her forward.
He carried on pacing through the road without a word until they reached his automobile and he smirked "We're going to go dance."
"I've not got a dancing dress, shoes nor any makeup! You've given me no time to prepare." She tutted, although a smile did remain on her face.
"You don't need none of that looking lovely as you are."
After slight persuasion, John swung the car around to Ada's so that Alice could borrow something more appropriate to wear, impatiently beeping outside as he waited.
Inside, Ada was rummaging through her wardrobe and chatting excitedly to Alice as she held Karl - much to the silent displeasure of Freddie who was just laid on the bed listening to their gossip, knowing an argument would later ensue.
When Alice finally stepped out of the house clad in a black, sequinned dress that rested a few inches above her knees, John's jaw almost dropped and the beeping immediately halted.
"I've not got anything on my face, done nothing to my hair." She complained, placing her work plimsoles in the backseat before sliding into the passenger side. "I look a bloody mess."
The man didn't immediately respond, mentally noting her statement as ridiculous and becoming distracted by the vision before him. His eyes ran down her legs slowly and sweetly like sticky toffee, a smirk twinging at the corners of his lips when he finally reached her borrowed shoes and saw the three inch heels attached to them. It was then that his eyes went back to hers and he finally replied with a smug expression.
"You look fucking gorgeous.. and I'm the one who gets to show you off tonight, how lucky am I?" He grinned, making Alice blush and giggle.
"You're such a gentleman John. It's a wonder no one else got to you before me." She doted and he almost drunkenly said the same back to her before quickly closing his mouth, remembering 'someone did get to her before me.'
He tried to laugh it off and think of something else to say but Alice noticed his awkward change up and it only took her a few seconds to suss out what words he'd stopped himself from saying.
"You're gonna have to show me the ropes of this dancing business-"
"You were going to say the same to me until you remembered my husband, weren't you?" She cut him off plainly, once again earning an awkward silence from John as he scraped his brain for what to say back.
"It's okay. I know I'm damaged goods." She continued with a scoff before a playful smile sprung from her lips and she lightly tapped John "I was just kidding. What's the sour face for?"
He was annoyed now. Why did she have to say stuff like that? And then have the nerve to expect anyone to be okay about it?
"But you weren't kidding and even if you were, it ain't funny Alice. And why do you still call him your husband? Ain't like he earned that." John hissed but Alice still remained amused.
"Does it make you jealous?" She teased.
John tutted and pulled a disgusted face. "Of that cunt? Are you fucking serious?" His volume raised slightly and his eyes sent daggers, sending a sudden pang of anxiety through the previously cocky woman.
Still though, she had to keep up a facade so she stayed cool, staring back at John with an equally intense gaze.
"What's it matter if I was?" She raised an eyebrow.
That visibly annoyed him more.
"Stop fucking doing this, Alice! You can't just say shit like that and expect me to say nout about it! And then all of these fucking bullshit answers and riddles when I ask you anything! I'm trying to help you, I wanna help-"
"Well I didn't ask for help!" She interrupted him sharply. "And it's not like you tell me anything about how you're feeling or what you've gone through!"
John was visibly taken aback by that.
"See. You think I don't know, but I do. I see it. The war in your eyes. The war you've carried on fighting even after coming home. Why don't we talk about that? Why don't you tell me how you truly feel right now?"
Thick silence filled the car, Alice brewing with irritation whilst John sat motionless in thought, trying to compile the right sentence from the many words jumping around his head.
"Not so easy when it's about you, is it?" The woman broke the silence snidely, crossing her arms.
John instantly replied this time, an answer finally coming to him and leaving no space for quiet as he plainly said "So you wanna know how I feel right now then?"
All of the hope that had been sucked from Alice in the moments prior was now making a slow return. His eyes locked onto hers were showing a vulnerability he'd never shown, so she almost smiled as she quietly responded "Yes. Tell me."
"I feel like, I want to take things further.. but you've still got secrets and a husband... and I feel like he still owns you." The words struggled to come out, feeling as bad to say as they were to hear.
Alice's heart had been lifted and then crushed all within a few seconds.
"John.. I... He's dead to me." She stammered, feeling stupid and rejected, trying to hold back a wave of emotions.
"Say his name then. Or the name he gave to you."
Another thick silence.
"Exactly. He ain't dead to me. You can't even say his name it scares you that bloody much. I-I've got to kill him Alice." John's tone was intimidatingly serious but went soft towards the end as he saw her demeanour crumble.
For some reason, tears started to fall from her eyes upon hearing that. Maybe it was the fact that John cared that much about her; the intense realness of his emotion, or maybe it was the overwhelming fear of the man they were speaking of. Either way, she was more embarrassed than ever and quickly turned to open the car door but John stopped her, lightly grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him.
"Stop it John, I'm a bloody stupid disgrace and I need to go. Find another girl to dance with." She quietly cried, looking down to avoid meeting his gaze as she gave his pull no resistance.
It pained him so much to see her like this; full of self hatred and suffering because of something done to her by an evil person. The conversation had sobered him up and he'd lost most of the confidence that he'd been building up with each bottle in the hours prior.
However, he knew he still needed to say it - he still needed to tell her the truth. Arthur's earlier words rang through his head; "Tell her before it's too late, before she leaves again or does something unfixable to herself!"
He took a deep breath, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it.
"Look at me, darling." He said quietly and she slowly lifted her head, her glistening eyes meeting his steely ones.
"You're none of those nasty things you say about yourself... I fucking love you, Alice. I've been dreaming of you ever since you left and I don't wanna dance with no one else... I recon I want you to be my wife someday-"
Her heart jumped into her throat and the world felt frozen. Did he really just say that? She was too shocked to even smile, instead interrupting him with a wide eyed "Really?"
"Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn't I?" He grinned before nervously adding "Is that not what you want?"
Finally, she was able to relax and grin, her tears quickly drying up "Of course that's what I want" moving her hand to cradle John's face.
In the dim light, they shared a slow and passionate kiss, fingers intertwining and heartbeats racing. The romantic atmosphere was cut short though by John pulling away and sighing "But as I said before; it's all someday. There's some things I need to do first and killing that bastard is one of those."
Alice scoffed.
"Why? Because he's still my husband in the eyes of some questionable God? Or because he took a part of my body? 'Cus if that's why, you've got a long list." She was regaining her confidence and talking nonchalantly, unintentionally sending a dagger into John's gut.
"It's because I fucking love you Alice, didn't you hear me? And I'm gonna kill every fucking bastard who ever laid a finger on you. You understand?" His irritation was bubbling again despite his straight face and it suddenly began to make sense to Alice; John's desire to kill Jones.
Was this love? The real love that she'd only ever dreamed of or read about? Was she really lucky enough to have a man care for her this much?
And It's not like she didn't also have a deep desire to see Jones dead. But she never expected anyone else to care, let alone this much.
There were so many worries racing through her mind though, the fear of seeing Jones again, the worry that they wouldn't find him and therefore John might refuse to be with her. The pressure was immense.
But with a sharp inhale and quick dab of her eyes, the brunette nodded and declared "I'll help you find them, but I want to be the one to kill him."
—————
Despite the earlier intense conversation, by the time they reached the club, the mood was cheery and playful again. Both felt completely enamoured by each other, hands constantly intertwined or roaming further onto their bodies - especially as they danced. The club was quite busy; small and cosy with warm lighting and yet having an air of snobbery, like it were a secret club that the pair shouldn't have stumbled into. They didn't mind though, ignoring the whispers and looks as they laughed the night away.
John's words kept repeating in her head, giving her butterflies as she looked into his eyes and pictured being his wife. His protective arm and gentle patience had finally made her feel unconditionally safe with the man- along with a couple drinks - and she found herself uncontrollably lustful for him; even more so than she'd been before.
Now she felt ready. He'd said he loved her for goodness sake. There's no way he'd hurt her.
With a grin, she removed her arms which were draped loosely around his shoulders and grabbed his hand - this time being the one to lead him out of the building.
"Why we leaving beautiful? I's about to get us another drink." John mumbled in her ear, planting kisses to her neck between each word.
"Because I love you. And I want you." She replied, looking straight ahead as they headed towards the automobile.
John's steps almost halted. It had slightly upset him earlier that she didn't say it back, but he'd managed to keep it hidden as her emotions felt more important than his. Even as they'd danced and kissed, he'd secretly been worrying that he'd confessed too soon and she didn't really feel the same way.
A satisfied smirk set across his face once her statement had fully settled in; the spark in his belly now a full fire. He beamed and span Alice to face him, planting a big kiss on her lips before they climbed into the car.
"Where are we going?" He swallowed, Alice's hand teasingly trailing along his thigh.
"Yours, I guess." She smirked confidently, taking her hand away from him to grab a cigarette from the small compartment in the car.
He instantly missed her touch and craved to feel it again, almost feeling like he was being deprived of oxygen. It only took a second for him to put the keys in and start speeding down the road.
Upon reaching John's house, the two were attached to each other even before opening the front door; one of John's hands running down Alice's back whilst the other fiddled with his key.
Once the large door was open, Alice practically shoved him inside; giggling before lacing her fingers through his as he lead her to his bedroom.
The house was small and quiet, only the sounds of their footsteps being heard until they reached the bedroom. She'd passed out on his sofa after talking into the late hours on a few occasions now, but she'd never gone upstairs.
Alice looked around the room slowly, it wasn't much less bare than the room he had at the family house - beige walls and a wooden floor with aged furniture, decorated by the occasional photograph or doily.
"You like it?" John spoke from his sat position on the edge of the bed, snapping her attention back to him.
When their eyes connected she felt her stomach flip and the butterflies she had return tenfold.
"It's okay." She laughed slightly "Could do with some more things on the wall."
"What kind of things?" He replied, his eyes hungrily running up and down her body but his tone suddenly becoming awkward.
Alice realised that she was going to have to initiate whatever happened next - John was obviously either too intimidated or trying to be a gentleman. In truth, it was a mix of both.
"You don't care about that. Let's fuck." She shortly answered with a smirk, shocking John for a second before a heavy wave of relief rushed through him and a grin crossed his face.
She quickly moved to straddle him and his hands instantly started to roam her body, small moans escaping his mouth as their crotches started to grind against each others.
"Take off the dress." He mumbled after a minute, releasing his hands from her arse and his lips from her neck.
"You have to get undressed too. I don't want to be the only one exposing myself." She insecurely returned, earning a smirk from John.
He undid his shirt and pulled off his trousers with no issue, whilst Alice stood awkwardly beside the bed - still fully clothed.
Once he noticed her seeming uncomfortableness, his smirk dropped into a concerned frown and he asked "What's up with you?.. If you want to stop we can stop."
"No. It's not that." Alice quickly replied, swallowing at the sight of his chiseled chest leading all the way down to the bulge in his underwear. "I- I, I just don't know if I'm going to look good."
It made him sad to see the beautiful woman so full of self doubt.
"I wish you could see what I see" He tutted "cus' you're the most gorgeous woman I ever known."
The sincerity in his eyes and voice made her blush and she looked away before starting to unzip her dress, mentally building herself up again. Every second she took to pull it down felt like a minute for John and when the fabric finally dropped he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Her body was as heavenly as he'd imagined, especially as she slowly removed her bra. But his fears were true; she was covered in brutal, angry scars and not all of them looked self inflicted. There were also relatively fresh red lines marking her thighs.
Those weren't things that needed addressing in that moment though, in fact he'd expected it, so he quickly pushed the thoughts away and focused back on her beauty. His hands and lips quickly found themselves back on her body as she moved to straddle him again.
"Fucking hell Alice, you are fucking beautiful." He looked up from her breasts to her face, planting a long kiss on her neck and moving a hand to kneed one of her breasts whilst the other held her waist.
A quiet moan escaped her mouth and she giggled slightly as she started to grind against him. Her mind was focused on nothing but John and his on her. She too felt enamoured by his body, impressed by his skills in the bedroom and the way he made her feel at ease - even as he finally penetrated her.
The night lasted a while until they eventually fell asleep in each others arms, completely exhausted, comfortable and happy.
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letstalktea · 5 months
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Death Won’t Do Us Part
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Content: Harper x Reader, Avery x Reader, Reader is dead at the start of the fic and it does not get better, physical abuse, Reader and Avery are implied to be in a more serious relationship, mentions of brain damage
Word Count: 1.5k
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This wasn’t you. This lifeless, immobile husk with clouding eyes staring blankly ahead and skin that was slowly losing color. These stiff, cooling hands weren’t the same ones Harper had so lovingly held, disguised behind an unsteady mask of professionalism, each time you walked into their office for a check-up.
Their swirling eyes looked up at the dark brown ones – so dark they were nearly black – staring down at them. “You should have called sooner.”
Avery looked none the worse for wear, even staring directly at your corpse lying in the bed of his guest room which he must have moved you to – or paid someone to move you to. “It took time to clean the mess they made.”
A mess? Rigor mortis was already setting in and Avery was calling your death a mess. Not even an accident. Just a mess.
“And how can I help you with this mess?” Harper hated using Avery's callous words to refer to you, but they also knew the extent of the man’s rage and how easily it could turn on anyone he thought couldn’t do anything to fight back against him. They’d taken care of your open wounds and broken bones plenty of times to know just how dangerous the man was behind closed doors and they weren’t willing to find out just how much lower on the totem pole Avery thought they were than himself.
“Fix it. Discreetly.”
That would have been easier if Avery had called them when you had first gotten hurt rather than waiting to cover his own ass. If they had gotten there sooner, been able to see you before the life had left your eyes and Avery had moved your body – and you had clearly been moved – Harper may have been able to stabilize you. Better yet, if Avery had brought you to the hospital rather than hiding your body away in the guest room, they likely could have given you proper treatment. As things stood now, however, bringing you back from beyond the grave would require a miracle.
They wanted answers, both because they wanted to know what Avery had done to you this time but also because they needed to know what it was they were being asked to fix. 
“How did this happen?”
Avery’s face twisted into anger, as if being questioned was in and of itself a taboo. Now that they had seen the expression for himself, Harper understood why you were always so secretive about your injuries even though it was obvious where they had come from. If that was the face you saw every time you stepped out of line or made even the smallest mistake, they could understand why you never dared to say anything that would risk your safety any further.
Harper wasn’t you though. They were just the person having to deal with the aftermath.
“The longer it takes me to figure out what happened to them, the more time they have to rot. Their eyes are already clouding over and their eyesight won’t be as good as it was. They may even have some leftover joint and mobility issues due to the chemical changes in their muscles. It would be more helpful if you happened to know how they hurt themselves.”
Avery was too put together to click his tongue, but Harper could sense that it was the exact reaction to display his displeasure with the situation.
“They tripped and hit their head on the corner of the bookcase.”
In other words, Avery had hit you hard enough that you fell and hit your head, and that had killed you.
They’d seen your blood many, many times. From collecting it in vials to patching up the less than savory injuries you’d come into the hospital with over the years. They’d seen you in all manners of state. Once, they’d even had to cut your forehead open to pick out shards of glass that had buried themselves deep beneath your skin. That day was awful for everyone involved. They swore to themselves that nothing could be worse than that day, especially after you started crying in fear that your face had been ruined and how angry Avery would be if the stitches left a scar after your wound healed.
Avery always made you bleed, it was just that this time the bleeding had been mostly inside your brain. They wouldn’t know if it was epidural or subdural without further testing, but the result was the same either way; death. Even if they managed to bring you back, a feat seeming more and more impossible by the second, you would have brain damage. 
If Avery would be upset by a scratch on your face, they couldn’t imagine his unadulterated rage when they told him that you wouldn’t be the same person when you came back. Avery wanted a trophy, not a partner. If you weren’t polished to his liking, he would throw you away and get another. 
But one person’s trash was another person’s treasure.
Avery wouldn’t want you if you didn’t live up to his ideals, but Harper would. They would always want you, no matter what you were like when you came back. If Avery would gladly let you go and leave you in their waiting hands, that would be fine. In fact, if the brain damage was bad enough, perhaps they could get you a permanent residency in the asylum, where they could keep a close eye on you everyday.
You would have no more injuries, no more late night emergencies, no more terrifying calls like this one. You would be perfectly safe in a room they would never allow you to leave because they could write that you weren’t capable of being on your own. You would only have to see them everyday. They wouldn't even allow the orderlies to see you. Even when they were away at the hospital, they wouldn't allow another person near you.
Harper tried not to smile because they knew it would give away their intentions.
“May I have a moment?” They asked Avery in the hopes that he would leave the room so they wouldn’t have to try and suppress their jubilation.
Avery didn’t move.
“This will be ghastly,” Harper said, trying to touch on Avery's sensitivities.
He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I expect results.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“And if you can’t do anything?”
“Whether I can or can’t, you won’t find this issue when you come back.” Because, if they couldn’t fix you, they knew Avery was expecting them to get rid of the problem in a way that didn’t cause him any more trouble than he’d already gone through. That’s what it meant to be discreet.
Avery looked at them, then at you. 
If Harper didn’t know better, they would think the annoyance gave way to the smallest spark of sadness when his eyes landed on your placid face. But he didn’t earn the right to be sad about your current state.
Avery left the room, closing the door behind him.
As soon as it was just Harper and you, they smiled. They smiled so widely that their cheeks hurt and they had to hold back their laughter. 
They could whisk you away right now and Avery wouldn't question a thing. They could put you in your new – technically old – room and keep you close. Avery would never look for you at the asylum because he thought the place was beneath him. 
The only flaw in their plan was that you were very much still dead.
No.
You couldn't be dead.
The dead didn't come back to life. No matter how good of a doctor Harper was, that would remain true. You were simply playing at being dead because you were trying to get away from Avery. That was the only way this night could end in any way other than tragedy. 
Harper understood your plan without you telling them a thing and was happy to help you carry it out. They examined the spot where you'd hit your head and reasoned that it was merely bruised. The clouding of your eyes was a trick of the light and your stiff limbs were the result of your tiredness.
You were fine.
You had to be because, if you weren’t, there was nothing they could do.
But, because you were clearly fine – maybe a little roughed up due to Avery's heavy hand, but otherwise fine – they would have to whisk you away from this place. Avery already gave their tacit approval for you to vanish without a word or trace and Harper saw no reason not to take him up on his generous offer.
Harper would gladly keep you.
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sopebubbles · 11 months
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Lone Wolf: Chapter Three sneak peek
I considered trying to make a mood board for about .7 seconds, but im the least aesthetic person on the face of the planet, so im just gonna give it to you straight.
Warnings: this chapter contains explicit depictions of child ab*se, including physical violence and abusive language, please take care.
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This time Hoseok didn't knock before entering your room and found you sitting in the same protective position he had left you in. He set the bowl down on the table beside your bed and moved away. You looked between the bowl and him but did not move to grab it until he turned his back to you. He heard you sniff it and hum softly to yourself before the spoon began to clink against the porcelain. You began to take greedy spoonfuls of the hot stew while he walked back into the hallway. From the linen closet in the hallway Hoseok gathered several beloved blankets and fresh sheets. When he returned to the room you were slurping up the thick broth from the bottom of the bowl and set it aside with sheepish eyes, as if he would take such behavior as anything but a compliment.
"Do you want some more?" He asked, but you shook your head. He had a whole pack to feed and you shouldn't take too much. "If you get up for a minute I'll change the sheets."
"You don't have to do that!" Something in your belly felt deep shame knowing how they smelled of your heat and the mess you had made.
"Don't be silly. There's no point in staying in messy sheets. And you don't need to feel embarrassed about it. We all do it. That's why I always keep a lot of clean sheets." You lowered your face at how easily he had seen through you, but got off the bed when he waved a hand at you. "And I brought lots of blankets. Unless you're more of a pillows kind of girl. I'm sure I can find a few spare ones."
"Pillows for what?" You stared at him blankly as he began to strip everything from the bed.
"For your nest, pup."
"Oh. That's okay. I don't nest."
"Jimin said you're not allowed at the shelter, but you are here!" Hoseok said cheerfully, the mere thought of building a cozy nest to sink into filling him with joy.
"No, I mean I don't at all," you replied, and he paused to turn to you.
"Never?" You shook your head. "Why not?"
You scratched your nails up and down your arm, squirmy under his scrutiny and shaky on your legs. Hoseok dropped the spoiled sheets on the floor and when it seemed like you wouldn't answer while he watched you, he picked up a clean sheet and began to stretch it over the mattress.
"It's bad for you, isn't it? I mean, they say it's unhygienic. And it makes omegas lazy."
Hoseok scoffed and turned to give you an incredulous look. "Who told you that?"
You shrugged. You'd heard it at home and probably at school more than once. The few times you had tried to nest they had told you they didn't want it or a lazy omega.
Hoseok was speechless. Who would have told you something so plainly untrue? Nesting was an important part of emotional well being for omegas. It was harder not to do than to do. It was important for the pack, too, making sure that all members had a comfortable place to rest. Making sure that all scents were present was important to maintaining bonds and bringing comfort. How could you deny yourself such a basic need?
Not knowing what to say, he simply finished putting the sheets on the bed. When he was finished he took the old sheets under one arm and grabbed the empty bowl with his free hand. He stopped to look at the pile of blankets and then at you with troubled eyes.
"I'll just leave these here in case you want to give it a try." Maybe your omega instincts would kick in during your frenzy when you couldn't meet your other needs.
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May 4th 6am CDT/8pm KST
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Hi Lucy, I just got out of an incredibly abusive relationship and if you’re comfortable could you maybe write a best friends to lovers with steve harrington where he picks her up after breaking up with her abusive ex? I know steve wouldn’t want me to experience this shit anymore
Hi sweetheart, hope you're doing well, sending you lots of hugs 🩷🫂
Steve's heart broke seeing you leave his house, your little bag stuffed with your things at your side, the way that even from his car he could see that you had been crying. He was so proud of you, wanting to hold you and tell you that you did the right thing and that he's here now and he'll always protect you but he didn't want to smother you.
You got into his car, hands shaking a little and it took everything in him not to reach out and steady you. "You okay?" Steve cursed himself as soon as the words left his lips, of course you weren't okay. You didn't seem to mind his question, turning and offering him a weak smile that pulled right on his heartstrings.
"I'll be okay." You said softly. You felt safe with Steve, he made you feel comfortable and loved, more than a best friend probably should but that's why you called him, he's your closest friend.
"Of course you will. And I'll be here even if it takes a while to get better because, because I'm-" Steve took a deep breath trying to stop himself from saying something that wasn't important right now. "I'm just really proud of you okay, for leaving, I can't say I understand because I haven't been through it but I will try, I will listen if you want to talk and if you don't just tell me to shut up, I won't be offended."
"Thank you Steve." You reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it one quick squeeze before letting go. He could breathe now, Steve could feel his lungs relax now he knew you were safe.
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reliquaryofflesh · 2 months
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Let’s play Fight Club. Slap, punch, kick, slam each other into the walls and tackle each other to the floor. And then let’s fuck nasty. Or nicely. I don’t care let’s just fuck after we beat each other up. Press our aching bodies together, kiss with bloody lips and caress with red-knuckled hands. Maybe fall asleep battered and spent in each others arms and wake up sore but satisfied.
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sulasnsleep · 6 months
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“and there is an anger—an ugly anger—bubbling inside of me all the time. and i attempt to douse it with water, to make it stop, all to no avail. and it burns. this ugliness inside of me.”
— sulasnsleep
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hi-iamaj · 10 months
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Tumblr Etiquettes
Hey everyone, if you are new to Tumblr, don't worry, we got many posts to help you navigate your way in this hellsite. Hope you enjoy your journey with us and I hope you come back again :D
Anyway, Tumblr etiquettes:
1. Old posts
We on Tumblr doesn't care if you scroll until our oldest posts ever (yes even posts from almost 2 decades ago), it just shows us that YOU enjoy our contents. Think of it as a mutual relationship where you get to tell others the type of content you like (and get new friends who also like that content) and the person you reblog from get happiness
2. DNIs
DNI (do not interact for those who don't know) are sacred here. If a blog have a DNI, please read it and follows the DNI. If you are not sure if you fit the DNI, you can ask about it (s long as you are respectful, most blog will explain the DNI further)
3. Blocking someone
Blocking isn't some taboo thing here. You don't like someone or their content, block them. You hate their pfp, block. Ugly username, b l o c k. You can literally use any reason to block someone and they won't even care about it
3a) Discourse, cancel culture, hates and others
In Tumblr we curate our own contents. What that means is, if you dislike something, you don't send hate or make a discourse or cancel them or other things, you just don't interact with them and block that content or the blog. Trust me, doing that in this site, you will get ridiculed and we will laugh at you and make jokes about it
3b) Tagging
Tags are quite important in here. It is how your posts gets around as people will search what they are interested in using tags (It is also a whole other etiquettes). But in this post, I'm going to talk about how blocking and tags works together. In Tumblr you can block tags (you can do this in the settings). Blocking tags are used to hide the contents you dislike or triggering posts so please tag your posts properly (for example, if your posts have abuse, tag it with abuse (I will show it in this post tag too)). Also don't cross tag as it is annoying and might lead to you getting block by others
4. Bots
Bots are annoying creatures that lurks in this site (if you stay long enough, you will get at least one bot follower). If you have met one, just block, report and move on. Also, if you are new, change your blog so we don't mistake you as bots. If you are not sure if your blog is considered to be a bot, here's my posts on how to NOT be mistaken as a bot
5. Reblogs vs Likes
Tumblr doesn't really have an algorithm. How posts travel in this site is by reblogging posts that you like. We love getting reblogs as it shows that you like our contents and wants to share it to other people too (we see how good a post is doing by their reblogs, the more reblogs it gets, the better). This applies doubles for artists. If you want to support your favourite Tumblr art blogs and don't have money to commission them or just want to let other people know, reblog their posts as it will get around to others (I'm saw a post on the reblogging web line of posts a few months back, I will link it if I can find it again). Here's a good representation of this
If anyone have any other suggestion on Tumblr etiquettes, fell free to add yours in
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Ryn ran his hand over some scars on his arms, looking at them solemnly.
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i loved ep 5 but i have to say it has the shittest ending
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wasn’t the whole point that his family was a bunch of no good useless bags of shit that don’t value him? if he just finished the episode by disowning them or something that would have been leagues better than keeping these soul sucking miserable people that created and exasperated bretts issues out of his life.
brett gains literally nothing of worth having these people in his life, they are garbage, they know they are garbage, they abuse each other and brett, they don’t plan on stopping that they just turned brett into the golden child now and others into the scapegoat,i have to say that is fucking terrible.
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fearyandear · 10 months
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'Keeping Machi' - An Old Yandere Story About The Girl You Saved Wanting to Be Your Wife (TW: Abuse Mention)
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Old concept art! So far, this is all I have to show, visually, for the story ^^" I haven't gotten around to revamping Machi's design or drawing the actual scenes/things that I want, but one day, maybe I will. As of now, I just want to eject this story's summary into the atmosphere. I love Machi and her domestic adventures with Y/N pop into my brain every once in a while but I don't know how the story would be received 👉👈
Oh well. The story summary is under the cut! Please regard my trigger warning for mention of abuse!
The son of someone important in a criminal organization had an infatuation with his 'best friend' victim, Machi, who's trans. The older they got, the more controlling he became, until he had Machi pretty much locked up in an apartment room for whenever he wanted to visit. She was there for a year, biding her time until there was finally a chance to run away. Naked, bruised but determined, she ran to the parking complex and pleaded for help to the first and only car she could see with someone inside.
Y/N had finalized the papers to move out of the apartment complex, they'd already moved into another town a long drive away and was just visiting one last time to say goodbye to people. Seeing Machi appear out of nowhere startles them, but they comply with opening the doors, letting them in and pretty much flooring it into the dark streets. Y/N is terrified, but any mention of the police has Machi begging not to turn her in, please. Y/N is stumped and suggests stopping somewhere to talk but Machi insists they just keep driving. To take her any other town but here, far away.
Y/N can feel they've just gotten involved in something, but they figure they're already this deep and the girl could really use some help. If she's that scared of the authorities… maybe it's for a reason. They keep driving as Y/N had planned anyways, eventually, they have to stop and Y/N gives Machi clothes, then they make it to Y/N's new town. Neither of them know what to do next, Machi is still in shock. Y/N decides to let her stay with them for now, and slowly, slooowly over months, the two get to know each other. Machi gets to feel comfortable for the first time. She's free.
I wouldn't really focus on the abuse stuff, but I feel it's important to address it first because what I wanted with the story is something slice-of-life-y that'd show Machi's slow progression with healing, feeling comfortable with her life, and understanding what love looks like. She's awkward but eager. She's never worked, never done any chores, and a stranger has taken her in out of sheer kindness. She feels like she has to really prove herself and keeps trying at housework until she gets stuff right. And she likes it. She enjoys feeling like she's helping, like she's needed. She loves learning new tips and new recipes to be able to impress you with how orderly she keeps things. She's always seeking praise.
She's terrified of leaving the apartment, and goes through a whole journey of holding your hand and taking baby steps to interact with the outside world. She's also terrified of people, but to her surprise, the town you moved into is very welcoming and understanding. The old lady next door especially has an intuition that clues her in to some of what Machi's gone through, and she tries to get involved. Machi has not only you to turn to anymore, after a while. But still,
After bringing her so much comfort and care, and after months (to maybe another year) of her cooped up only in your apartment together, you are her whole world. She was initially very shy, but over time, she becomes really aggressive with bridging gaps physically; as soon as she feels like she wants to hold hands she will. Same with cuddles, 'platonic' kisses and anything you let her get away with. Small victories for her as she is trying so hard to make things official. It's not all cute stuff, though. There are weird rituals she's taken to doing; love spells, incantations, messing around with fluids, she's willing to do a lot to be able to feel closer to you. To be able to have you confess and become hers in the ways that matter.
Really truly, equally as obsessively in love.
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