Latest Posts by thehydraethereal - Page 4
Natalie Dormer as Anne Boleyn
The Tudors 2.06
NATALIE DORMER as ANNE BOLEYN THE TUDORS 1.10 The Death of Wolsey
I LOATHE how The Tudors (2007-2010) portrayed women. All women. The objectifiation and hypersexuality was disgusting, they were shown as overly emotional beings (not living souls) and every single one of them left room for vilanization while almost all men --evil or not--had their redemption arc and manipulated the audience emotionally to love all of them (even the rapists, the hypocrites; the greedy; the abusers).
Anyways, the actresses were beautiful, breath-takingly gorgeous actually. I love the six wives ⁎⋆๛✵ and I believe that Henry VIII has a special place in hell.
Hi, I want to make a request but I have a question. Can I take trigger warnings from your main list or does it have to be the trigger warnings that are on the request post?
Thank u in advance!
hiii my baby! ⁎✽༊࿔
you can use trigger warnings from BOTH, or you can even suggest a few of your own and if I am comfortable with them, I'll write them. :) ℐ love you!
AWHH HI BABY! ⁎✽༊࿔๛✫
I am so overwhelmed, thank you so much for tagging me among these talented and beautiful people, I am truly honored! I wish you the happiest birthday and know you are unique and special! You made my day lol thank you for saying you like my writing. Love you tonnes, my baby! xoxo ♡
hi lovelies! it’s naomi / babydoll! tomorrow is my birthday and i just wanted to make a post on all of my favorite writers and just the writers who inspired me to make this blog in the first place! i’m so grateful to be mutuals with some of them and some of them i’d love to be mutuals with but obviously no pressure :)
if you guys haven’t already you should hundred percent check this blogs out! they are all so incredibly talented
@rafesangelita @issues4him @slvbun @thehydraethereal
@sarahsangelicdoll @castielsloversblog @cameronfever
@echobx @cherienymphe @rafesplaymate @feverg1rl
@simpforboys @rafeyssugar @harryspet @dollyfiles
@interlude63 @ds-angel1 @rafey-baby @outerhills
@cameronsprincess @bambrinaa @softbabybelle
@sweetlolita666 @shawtycoreee @nativegirltapes
@rowdydevs @ickyrafe @dark-fics-4-you @rafesbowbunny
@littlelamy @meimei-archives @eerielamb @pointocean
@hauntedfawnn @babygazette @tinythebunni @rafelust
@isasweetie @messylustt @rafesaddiction @nemesyaaa
@thyme-in-a-bubble @rafecameronssl4t @crookedteethed
@tinyluvs @aemndxx @erwinsvow @princessbrunette
@cal-flakes @rafes-slut
⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests
෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.
𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.
𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 2.0
"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)
"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)
"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)
"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)
"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)
"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)
"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)
"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)
"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)
"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)
"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)
"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)
"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)
"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)
"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)
"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)
"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)
"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)
"Come here. Now." (19)
"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)
It's just crazy that some days, you watch countless of movies with your characters and you don't have even the tiniest drop of inspiration and you write NOTHING and some days you write a 25k masterpiece after seeing one GIF.
Us, writers...ugh.
OKAY SO when the last on ended it could pick up from there and he ties her up in a room. Then they get to where their going to and she tries to get away from him but he finds her. Then brings her back to the house and torture her ( idk if u write for that ) or he just ties her up in the basement and just leaves her there for a while idk <3
ꪖꪶꪶ I 𝘴ꫀꫀ Ꭵ𝘴 ᦔꪖ𝘳𝘬ꪀꫀ𝘴𝘴
๛༊ 𝒲ARNINGS: This work contains dark themes such as dv + mentions of; NONCON (rape); heavy violence (on reader and others); mentions of murder; abusive relationship; and possibly more. MNDI, 18+ ; IF YOU DO NOT LIKE MY CONTENT, DO NOT INTERACT.
࿐༊ 𝒲ord 𝒞ount: 1.2k. BARELY PRROFREAD.
๛༊ CATEGORY: A RAFE CAMERON DRABBLE | RAFE'S 𝓜ASTERLIST |
๛༊ MY NOTES: this is the sequel of '𝒜ll ℐ see is ℛed ℒights'. thank you all for reading and giving me so much love, I feel blessed! 🥹 hope you all enjoy this part as well. always, to my sister @highonmarvel , maybe you'd like this as a late night read. Love you forever and always, thank you for inspiring me so much! A lil something for @stargirllanaa, ofc if you wanna read. @ghostbusters6 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING. It did not turn our as violent as I would've wanted---more poetic tbh--- but you can request more and i'll write torture as well. ily and hope you enjoy this.
You barely stood awake the rest of the journey. You were lying limp on a thick blanket in a corner, and you only remembered glimpses of Rafe checking up on you, muffled voices and the never ending sound of the waves crashing on the sides of the ship.
The sleep soothed your pain, numbing your senses, so you welcomed it thankfully. You did not want to see or talk to anyone—that person being your boyfriend that beat your brother to death—, you didn’t want to believe you’re alive, going to a future you didn’t want to have. It wasn’t up to you though, apparently Rafe was making the choices and you just had to ask how high when he told you to jump.
The thought of finding a sharp piece of glass and using it to finish off the suffering had crossed your mind, but your body was way too weak to comply with your brain’s commands.
Your lashes batted as you tried to open your eyes. You placed your trembling hands into the mattress and managed to sit on your bottom, letting your back fall on the wall.
Finally, you felt a little strength running through your bones and muscles and your foggy state of mind cleared a bit and, after the days that had passed, you were able to fully open your eyes.
The view was the same: an iron wall, a few carton boxes and the blanket around your body.
But wait—the ship was not moving anymore.
The door creaked open and your puffy eyes fell on your boyfriend’s emotionless ones.
You immediately got up, bringing your knees to your chest and planting your palms into the mattress firmer as Rafe was coming closer.
His dark tee shirt clung tightly to his broad chest, bicep muscles flexing under the material as he brought his hand up to wipe at his nose with his fingers – the obnoxious habit that warned you about the stormy emotions running through his head. Fear ran through your veins as you saw in your mind, again, your brother’s blood staining Rafe’s hand
“C’mon, baby…” he spoke, now as he had fully reached your bed.
Your feet tangled in the sheets as you moved further from him, a whine bubbling up in your throat. The pet name felt foreign and bitter.
Rafe’s brows furrowed, and he spoke your name, it sounded as both a warning and a threat, but it also was the chant of a lost little boy begging you to just…comply with his demands. But did it terrify you to your core.
When you still hadn’t complied, Rafe nodded to himself — another habit he owned — and his hand extended, willing to grip your wrists.
You whimpered as his iron, long fingers wrapped on your skin, coldness running up your spine. He managed to get you on your feet and you yelped when he smashed your back across his chest. Hard. At first, you were grateful for the sustain offered by his body because your legs felt disattached from your hips, considering the stagnation of the blood flow and muscles in your thighs, calves and ankles, but when his hardness poked your lower back, nausea filled you again.
A part of you tried to excuse him, it was telling you he ‘cannot help it’, that he is a man, and men have certain needs at any moment –you inherited this because of his constant manipulation, the contrast and bipolarity of his actions, of vulnerability and power. But having him get aroused from the way your pained whimpers sounded was cruel nevertheless.
The following events went rapidly, and once you were off the massive ship, your numb form was secured into a backseat of a jeep.
“Can I trust you?” Rafe asked, raising his brows, and the threat behind it pinched at your brain. You knew what he meant. ‘Don’t fuckin’ run away.’ But as soon as your boyfriend left, his words were long forgotten. Fight or flight conquered all your senses and you opened the door and sprinted through the bushes adorning the dusty roads.
You knew nothing about the zone, but you would have rather stayed with a crotal than the man that murdered your brother with cold blood.
Your heart started beating faster—if that was even possible—when you heard Rafe’s panicked and terribly angered voice behind you.
“Hey..HEY!” he shouted behind your head and his bicep curled around your chest, stopping you from your sprint.
You screamed, the hoarse and frightened noise filling the emptiness of the dunes.
Rafe’s lips impacted your ear and his hand came to grip your face. The silence was not necessary—nobody cared for your cries, but Rafe needed your silence. It was his everyday bread, he was healing himself by painting your life in ashy shades of black and blue.
The new mansion was not more infant nor healing. The wealth had left its mark all over. Wealth terrified you. In your heart and soul, wealth was a synonym of dore and dreadfulness. Wealth meant the lack of freedom for others. Maybe you were globally right or maybe you were just the unfortunate stupid little girl.
Rafe’s eyes, painted by sorrow and madness, looked at the ghostly scene he created with his own bare hands. He had never seen you this terrified and beaten before, and, as much as he desired to feel a certain fulfillment—the one he had always felt before—he did not. Actually, your tears have turned into tears for him. He felt pathetic.
But that patheticism disappeared as soon as you jumped away from his touch. The voices were chanting in his head ‘disobedience; disobedience’ and then ‘abandonment’. Everybody, absolutely everybody in his life had given up on him at some point and then, he was powerless. But with you it was different. He had the strength to hold you back, even if that meant that you would tear your limbs off trying to uncuff yourself from his claustrophobic, torturous grip. You were the only star in his sky and he was draining all the light from every cell of your body. He knew that someday you will fade away. But until then, he had to bathe in your light as much as it was possible.
"I need you, and you-you don't seem to understand that--" Rafe shouted in the second part, shoving his index and middle fingers in his temples, trying to show you that it's not hard to get this into your head.
However, your black and blue body, splayed across the expensively polished floor was sending a totally different visual message. Wracked sobs and whimpers were met by the back of your palm, puffy eyes staring up at the man you couldn't recognize.
Rafe screwed his eyes shut as he was breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. "T-take me home, please--" you suddenly whined, and Rafe was immediately crouched next to your body. “Even if you could kill me and then throw my corpse away in a fuckin’ swamp, I will not live without you. If I’m on fuckin’ fire…", he stopped but you didn't need him to continue. "Do you understand that?”. His yell made your throat constrict and you nodded, forcing more pain into the bruises of coagulated blood on the flesh and muscles of your neck.
In two months, he would put a priceless diamond necklace over them—if you would be lucky enough to be unchained from his dorm—, and you would be expected to place a soft kiss on the lips that brutally murdered your true self, and drink from the poison of his being.
You emanate power and beauty on 𝒯umblr and it shows! ℐ'm so grateful you decided to join 𝒯umblr three years ago so we know each other! ℋappy 𝒜niversary and just know ℐ love you to the 𝓜oon and 𝒮aturn and all the way back!
It's my 3 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
SO DO I LIKE PUH-LEASEEE, DO WHATEVER U WANT TO ME, I WON'T COMPLAIN. THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT, ILYYY PRINCESS
DO NOT BLAME THE WIND
࿐ 𝒲arnings: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND MY WARNINGS ARE NOT EXHAUSTIVE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. MY WORK CONTAINS TRIGGERING ELEMENTS SUCH AS MENTIONS OF RAPE; RESTRAINS; AGE GAP; CAPTIVITY; STOCKHOLM SYNDROME; MENTIONS OF BLOOD; FEAR; TORTURE THEMES AND POSSIBLY OTHERS. MDNI, 18+.
࿐ CATEGORY: JOEL MILLER ONE-SHOT
࿐ PAIRINGS: dark!captor!joel miller x reader
࿐ MY NOTES: finallyyy managed to write some pedro pascal. Exam sessions are over for now, so I'll be yours, my babies. Enjoy reading my shit. REBLOGS, ASKS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH LOVED AND DESIRED. REQUESTS ARE OPENED FOR MORE DARK FIC IDEAS.
࿐ TAGS: @pedrosyouknowwhat enjoy, my beloved. @highonmarvel my sister and soulmate xxx
The weathered bark of the pine was splinting the flesh of your back and the cold was leaving sharp bites up your arms. The wind was unforgivingly harsh, and it whipped at your face, making more tears run down your numb cheeks. The rope was secured tightly and you felt like an animal, tied and bound to take your punishment. Your throat felt hoarse from all the weeping and pleading after him. But, apparently, when Joel Miller wanted to teach someone something, there was no opposition or protests — all you could do was watch his broad figure ride towards the woods, while you were left prey to the storm outside.
Your wrists were all bloodied, the result of your struggle. The dizziness and agony made your retina blur, disorting everything in your sight. You only prayed that Joel would come get you and you promised yourself you will never spit at his face ever again, no matter how hard he backhanded you or thrusted in your core.
As if your prayers were finally heard, a rugged movement beside you made your body instinctively flinch. “J-Joel?”, you asked, heavy eyes looking up at the older man. His jaw was clenched as his gloved hand came up and rested itself on your jaw. “I’m so s-sorry—”, you choked out, hot tears now cascading freely. Your whole body was shaking from the pain of standing with your back glued to the tree, restrained, all in the iciness of the howling tempests.
“You’re shivering…”, he growled, as if your plea fell on deaf ears. You nodded and looked up at him through your wet lashes. “I’m s-so cold…”, you whimpered, melting into the hardness of his body.
His calloused hand came to your back, where your wrists were secured, and ran his fingertips over the dried blood. You yelped. “I want to know—”, he started, and your heart jumped. You were ready to say anything just so he would take you back inside. “—if you know why you’re in this position…”
You looked into the darkness of his orbs and swallowed, looking for permission to speak. You absolutely did not want him to believe you were talking back, even though he asked you something.
The click of his tongue in the inside of his cheek was showing off that he was expecting your answer.
“J-just as you s-say…Do not blame the wind for destroyal if you were the one that o-opened the window.”, you whispered, eyes falling to the frozen mud around your feet. “I-I was di-disrespectful and it w-was right of you to p-punish me.”
Joel smirked, pleased with your answer. “There’s my good girl…”, he praised, cutting off the rope. You wrapped your weakened arms around his neck…You were clinging for dear life at the man that made you suffer the most. How ironic.
“Let’s get you back home, where you’ll show me if you’re actually sorry or not.”, he finished as your eyes darted to the pylon of your torture, wrapped in fog, and the crimson-stained rope lying forgotten in the dirt. Your face buried itself into his neck, and his warmth gave you an odd comfort.
Terror does funny things to mankind.
DO NOT BLAME THE WIND
࿐ 𝒲arnings: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND MY WARNINGS ARE NOT EXHAUSTIVE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. MY WORK CONTAINS TRIGGERING ELEMENTS SUCH AS MENTIONS OF RAPE; RESTRAINS; AGE GAP; CAPTIVITY; STOCKHOLM SYNDROME; MENTIONS OF BLOOD; FEAR; TORTURE THEMES AND POSSIBLY OTHERS. MDNI, 18+.
࿐ CATEGORY: JOEL MILLER ONE-SHOT
࿐ PAIRINGS: dark!captor!joel miller x reader
࿐ MY NOTES: finallyyy managed to write some pedro pascal. Exam sessions are over for now, so I'll be yours, my babies. Enjoy reading my shit. REBLOGS, ASKS, LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH LOVED AND DESIRED. REQUESTS ARE OPENED FOR MORE DARK FIC IDEAS.
࿐ TAGS: @pedrosyouknowwhat enjoy, my beloved. @highonmarvel my sister and soulmate xxx @katwriteshardy JUST IN CASE U WANNA READ THIS TOO
The weathered bark of the pine was splinting the flesh of your back and the cold was leaving sharp bites up your arms. The wind was unforgivingly harsh, and it whipped at your face, making more tears run down your numb cheeks. The rope was secured tightly and you felt like an animal, tied and bound to take your punishment. Your throat felt hoarse from all the weeping and pleading after him. But, apparently, when Joel Miller wanted to teach someone something, there was no opposition or protests — all you could do was watch his broad figure ride towards the woods, while you were left prey to the storm outside.
Your wrists were all bloodied, the result of your struggle. The dizziness and agony made your retina blur, disorting everything in your sight. You only prayed that Joel would come get you and you promised yourself you will never spit at his face ever again, no matter how hard he backhanded you or thrusted in your core.
As if your prayers were finally heard, a rugged movement beside you made your body instinctively flinch. “J-Joel?”, you asked, heavy eyes looking up at the older man. His jaw was clenched as his gloved hand came up and rested itself on your jaw. “I’m so s-sorry—”, you choked out, hot tears now cascading freely. Your whole body was shaking from the pain of standing with your back glued to the tree, restrained, all in the iciness of the howling tempests.
“You’re shivering…”, he growled, as if your plea fell on deaf ears. You nodded and looked up at him through your wet lashes. “I’m s-so cold…”, you whimpered, melting into the hardness of his body.
His calloused hand came to your back, where your wrists were secured, and ran his fingertips over the dried blood. You yelped. “I want to know—”, he started, and your heart jumped. You were ready to say anything just so he would take you back inside. “—if you know why you’re in this position…”
You looked into the darkness of his orbs and swallowed, looking for permission to speak. You absolutely did not want him to believe you were talking back, even though he asked you something.
The click of his tongue in the inside of his cheek was showing off that he was expecting your answer.
“J-just as you s-say…Do not blame the wind for destroyal if you were the one that o-opened the window.”, you whispered, eyes falling to the frozen mud around your feet. “I-I was di-disrespectful and it w-was right of you to p-punish me.”
Joel smirked, pleased with your answer. “There’s my good girl…”, he praised, cutting off the rope. You wrapped your weakened arms around his neck…You were clinging for dear life at the man that made you suffer the most. How ironic.
“Let’s get you back home, where you’ll show me if you’re actually sorry or not.”, he finished as your eyes darted to the pylon of your torture, wrapped in fog, and the crimson-stained rope lying forgotten in the dirt. Your face buried itself into his neck, and his warmth gave you an odd comfort.
Terror does funny things to mankind.
Troy (2004) -> shades of blue.
please stop putting your rape fics in girlblogging tags 😭 like you do you but fanfiction is not girlblogging
Considering half my followers and readers are girlblogs, I use the tag knowing they'll find my fics easier. I did my job and put the warnings, I did my job and put the 'read more' button. I'll try not to post anymore under the girblogs' tags, but this was really unnecesary. If you see the warnings and don't like them, JUST. SCROLL. If you're a minor (many minors are girlblogs) SCROLL and BLOCK ME. Please and thank you.
plsss do a dark professor rafe x young reader who is naive and rafe corrupts her and traps her. Noncon ❤️❤️
๛ PAWN
༻꧂ ᥫONTENT WARNINGS: My content is dark and this piece includes elements such as NON-CON; threats; choking; power imbalance; age gaps; coercion; manipulation, curse words and possible others. MDNI, MY WORKS ARE 18+.
༻꧂ MY NOTES: I love dark Rafe. REQUEST MORE Y'ALL (via INBOX)
༻꧂ CATEGORY: RAFE CAMERON ONE-SHOT (𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌. | 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.)
꧁༺ SUPPORT ME BY REQUESTING MORE, BY REBLOGGING, COMMENTING AND LIKING. THANK YOU!
"So, you wanna pass, right?", your professor, Rafe, asks, leaning back on the plain wall behind his desk with muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest, shielding it from your shy eyes. "More than anything!", you whimper, nodding your head vigorously. ”I mean, that’s what my parents want from me…”, you whisperly confess, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.
“And what a saint you are, listening to your mommy an’ daddy, while all your other classmates don’t give a flying fuck about theirs.” The tone laced with bitter amusement makes you flinch. Rafe has never spoken that way before, you have always considered him a moral person.
“P-please, sir…just help me pass, I’ll do anything. I’ll study for hours, for days, I don’t care, jus’ tell me what to do…”, you plead. Rafe chuckles, not planning to sentence you to continuous studying, God forbid he would do that to his sweet girl. “Come here.”, he breathes out, admiring his reflection into your glossy, widened eyes.
You approach his desk with shaky legs and his hand is swift to grab at your throat. The sudden movement makes you sob, fear overcoming all your senses. ‘What is happening?’ is the scream that bubbles up in your mind.
“You want to pass? Then give me a reason to make it happen, baby. Otherwise… you fail. Simple.”, he growls, ocean blue eyes now a shade of darkened coal. He squeezes your neck tighter, wordlessly demanding a response.
You push weakly at his chest, the lack of air starting to become unbearable, a gesture he clearly doesn’t like. "Grades can be fixed. But so can attitudes. Think carefully, sweetheart. I decide what happens next… and trust me, you won’t like failing my class.", he growls again, bending you over his desk.
And, as you feel his austere, calloused hands bruising your thighs, his wife’s eyes, drilling into yours from the pictures on the workbench, were the ones pinning you in place, silencing your nonexistent screams to just whimpers, tears and, just as Rafe grunts from above you, prayers. Prayers to pass with just this “small” gesture. But you’re not so sure. You know professor Rafe, and he is anything but easily convinced.
When I started this blog, I was CONVINCED I was gonna get sooo hated because of the type of content I write/read. Well, what a pleasant surprise...I haven't gotten one. hateful. inbox regarding my content. But others authors here are not as lucky as I am. I am going to repeat it again: IF YOU DO NOT LIKE A CERTAIN FIC, SCROLL, BLOCK THE BLOG, BLOCK THE TAGS, keep your mental health safe. But do not send hate, like...that is so childish, c'mon. Fiction is a way of coping with certain things. Do not attack my taste just because it differs from yours. Read the warnings and if they make you shiver, SCROLL, damn.
I don't glorify my warnings, and I certainly do NOT encourage the behaviour, I just adore reading and writing them. Stop attacking my fellow dark writers and do not consume the content if it doesn't suit you. I know, it's that easy...wow.
Fandom PSAs
Dont’ Like, Don’t Read
or DL; DR
You are responsible for curating your own online experience.
If something upsets you, makes you angry or queasy or triggers you, stop reading/looking at it. Avoid things that might make you feel that way.
Learn to use the Sort and Filter function on AO3, especially the Exclude tools.
On social media, block and mute accounts / tags / words when necessary.
If you hated something, you don’t need to tell that to the creator or start pointing fingers at them publicly.
The Back button is free. Use it.
Addendum:
Yes, for this to work, creators need to tag their works accordingly, so that people know what sort of content they are about to engage with and can nope out if necessary.
I will probably make another PSA about the importance of proper tagging later.
Ship And Let Ship
or SALS
You are allowed to ship whatever you want.
Everyone else is also allowed to ship whatever they want.
You are entitled to dislike or even hate a ship. If you want to do this online, in public, don’t use the ship tags for hate posts.
If you see someone posting about a ship they like and you don’t, there is no need for you to start arguing with them in their replies / comments / QRTs / reblogs. Don’t throw your hate in their face.
Do not harass fan creators or fans for shipping something you disapprove.
All of this also applies to liking / disliking an individual character.
Addendum:
”I agree with this, except when…”
No, then you are NOT agreeing with this.
Let me make this VERY clear. There are NO exceptions. None.
You don’t EVER harass real people over pixels.
If you disagree with this, kindly block and move on.
Your Kink Is Not My Kink
or YKINMK / YKINMKATO
The longer version is ”Your Kink Is Not My Kink And That’s Okay”.
People have different tastes. Not everything is for everybody.
Even if you don’t like a specific kink, other people are still allowed to use it in their creations.
You are entitled to dislike kinky content and think that it’s ”weird”.
Don’t kink shame or judge people based on their kinks.
This goes both ways: your kink is not someone else’s kink, so don’t push it onto those who are not into it.
Be Kind
or Don’t Be An Asshole
Focus on the things you like instead of the things you hate.
Create and unite instead of destroying and dividing.
Don’t harass real people over fictional things.
Stop stirring up petty drama just to get some attention on social media.
Stop trying to ”win”. Fandom is not a competition.
Remember that your own experiences aren’t universally shared. Your perception of things can differ from someone else’s, but that doesn’t mean either of you is necessarily wrong.
mood rn @highonmarvel
happy international women's day to all the gorgeous, overly talented, most loveable human beings on this earth @highonmarvel (my soul ♡); @pedrosyouknowwhat; @streets-in-paradise; @stargirllanaa and to my mother. And to taylor swift. And the other female singers and actresses and every girl/woman on this app. You are loved.
thank you SO much for reading and reblogging baby, I LOVE feeding dark fics to my people ♡
FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD
WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...
...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.
⇀ word count: 1.1 K
⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶
⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |
⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!
Oaxaca, Mexico
You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.
Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.
The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.
You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.
The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.
A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.
Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.
You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.
Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.
"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.
"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.
"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."
You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.
You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.
"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"
You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.
His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.
"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."
"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"
"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."
Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.
"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."
You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.
Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.
"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."
Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.
Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.
Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.
A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.
"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.
A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?
"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.
"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"
"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.
"Yes, of course I do!"
"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."
Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.
He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"
"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.
"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".
You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.
"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.
The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.
"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.
That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.
I'm am deceased, THIS MEANS SO MUCH OMG, especially coming from YOU....I love love love dark!Bucky and I never thought I would write dark!Sam but here I am I guess lol. I ADORED writing this, it was so so much fun experimenting with the characters. Thank you again! ♡
FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD
WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...
...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.
⇀ word count: 1.1 K
⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶
⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |
⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!
Oaxaca, Mexico
You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.
Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.
The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.
You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.
The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.
A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.
Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.
You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.
Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.
"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.
"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.
"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."
You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.
You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.
"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"
You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.
His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.
"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."
"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"
"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."
Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.
"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."
You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.
Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.
"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."
Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.
Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.
Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.
A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.
"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.
A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?
"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.
"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"
"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.
"Yes, of course I do!"
"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."
Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.
He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"
"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.
"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".
You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.
"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.
The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.
"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.
That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.
YOU ARE SO KIND OMG THANK YOU! 😭🙏
Can i request a rafe cameron oneshot please? With daddy kink, something like Rafe manipulating reader into believing he's the only one who would love her since not even her dad loved her, it can start with them figthing and making her cry just to console her with the same hands that hurted her <3
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ; ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ! ᴋɪɴᴋ; ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ!!!
ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʜʜʜʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʜɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴅᴅᴅ! ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʜʜʜʜ! (ᴛᴀɢ: @rvfecamerons ɪʟʏʏʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴋɪɴᴅᴅᴅᴅ)
ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ
You stand in the dimly lit living room, your heart pounding as you watch Rafe pace back and forth. His eyes, once a soft blue that you loved, now seem dark and unreadable. He's furious. You don't know why, but you assume it's his father. You’ve been building up the courage to say this for weeks, and the words finally tumble out, even though you know you shouldn't say this now.
“I’m leaving, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.” you whisper, your voice shaking.
The air grows still. Rafe stops pacing and turns to face you. His jaw tightens, and you can see the fury building behind his gaze. You take a step back, regretting your choice of words, but it’s too late to take them back now.
You pity yourself. You know you're not brave or smart enough, actually. That's how you felt your entire life. That's why you thought leaving Rafe. He is everything you aren't: smart, rich, admired. You're just the dumb, overly emotional girl who has never been loved. And also...his agressive acts are getting worse, reminding you of your father. And you hate that with burning passion.
“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerously calm, sending chills down your spine. You let out a shaky sob, closing your eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.
"I asked you a fuckin' question!" he yells, the sudden change of tone making you flinch. When you don't answer, he laughs, half annoyed, half patronising.
"Oh, wow..." he says, raising his hands mockingly, "not so brave anymore, huh?"
"w-well..I-" you start, trying to make your voice sound steady.
In an instant, he’s in front of you, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. The suddenness of his movement and the intensity in his eyes make you gasp. His fingers dig into your skin, and you wince, the pain mixing with the terror that’s quickly rising inside you.
“Are you talkin' back, tryin' to get fuckin' smart with me?,” he shouts in your face. You screw your eyes shut, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your insticts make you pull away, but his grip tightens. "Hey!" he yells, pulling you into his chest, his hands gripping yours unforgivingly. "Open your fuckin' eyes and look at me!" he demands.
When you don't obey his command, one of his hands leaves your wrist and connects with your jaw. He holds your head up, forcing eye contact, and your teary eyes meet his dark ones, sending new waves of pure terror through your body. The grip on your jaw is painful, but not as the flashbacks that flood your mind.
You remember the way your father used to do the same thing when you talked back or refused to do something he asked you to.
Panic makes you choke on air, and you let out a frightened 'I cannot breathe, R-Rafe...'
The room seems to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the pain in your wrists and the darkness in Rafe’s eyes.
He doesn’t seem to hear you, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You think you can just leave? Okay, do it, baby! Where you goin'? To your daddy's? That used to beat your ass?.” His voice is harsh, making you whimper. His words hurt more than anything.
He finally loosens his grip slightly, just enough for you to gasp for air. But he doesn’t let go. “You’re not leaving,” he repeats, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Do you understand?”
You nod frantically, desperate to placate him, to make this nightmare end.
For a moment, he studies your face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he releases your wrists. You stumble back, cradling them to your chest, your tears falling freely now. Your heart races, and you feel a cold dread settle in your stomach. He approaches you again, pulling you into an intoxicating hug. You sob in his chest, tears soaking his shirt. He gently soothes you, caressing your back. It feels so wrong, but yet there you are, letting the man that hurt you also comfort you.
"Daddy's here, baby..." he says, the nickname he gave himself lowkey making you sick. "I love you, only me", he says, smiling as he grips your chin and makes you look at him. "I'm your everything, baby. Never forget that. I really love you, baby..." he whispers, resting his chin on the top of your head.
You nod again, unable to find your voice, the fear still gripping you tightly. You know in that moment that things have changed, that you’re trapped in a way you hadn’t fully realized before. And the worst part is, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to escape.
"It's okay, baby...Daddy's here." he finished, making your skin crawl.
JAMES BUCKY BARNES' MASTERLIST
DISCLAIMER: (THIS CONENT IS DARK) This masterlist and its containing belong to The WINTER SOLDIER, so beware. You may stay as long as you would like, but i am sure that once you enter his district, you will never want to leave ever again. Make yourself comfortable and create and enjoy some magic with me. Any special requests, questions or just simple discussions will be submitted in my INBOX. You will be following these RULES and maybe you would like to check out my MAIN MASTERLIST as well. Below you will find my works, such as:
༊ ONESHOTS
➦ How it glistened as it fell
༊ DRABBLES
➦ Frightening New World (ft. Sam Wilson)
༊ SERIES
©thehydraethereal 2025 copyrights. My work is not to be translated, rewritten or reposted. My content is dark, you are responsible for your own media consumption.
this is me all day
Is Frightening New World gonna have a part 2? It reads like it would be a series.
yes, but I only have planned a part 2 !! It's not a series, I didn't think it that much ahead lol. i mean, OF COURSE I wanna write what Bucky will do and trust me. Imma feed y'all.
THANK YOU FOR READING BBY! xxx
FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD
WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...
...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.
⇀ word count: 1.1 K
⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶
⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |
⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!
Oaxaca, Mexico
You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.
Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.
The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.
You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.
The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.
A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.
Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.
You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.
Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.
"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.
"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.
"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."
You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.
You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.
"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"
You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.
His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.
"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."
"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"
"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."
Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.
"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."
You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.
Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.
"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."
Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.
Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.
Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.
A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.
"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.
A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?
"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.
"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"
"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.
"Yes, of course I do!"
"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."
Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.
He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"
"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.
"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".
You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.
"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.
The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.
"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.
That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.