#I'm sorry but I hate women of that generation so much. it's a window in a room that gets used a few times a week.

[mypoisonedvine]

"𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪." | dark!jackson rippner x reader

(I'm sorry but also no I'm not because wes craven knew exactly what he was doing when he put that line in the movie... he fucking knew...)

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | after following you for weeks as part of his job, jackson got a few ideas in his head about making you his, but finding out you had a boyfriend meant he needed to change his approach.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 | just under 9k (wow what the actual fuck)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | DARK NONCON SMUT (18+ only, don't keep reading if you're not physically or emotionally mature enough to manage your own content consumption please and thank you), knife kink, stalking, forced exhibitionism, forced infidelity, humiliation, vaginal and anal sex (whoops), pain kink/painal, ass to pussy (god this fic is disgusting lmao), hair pulling, brief breeding kink/forced breeding, some angst but really it's just filth

once again, this is a dark character being dark and I don't wanna hear y'all acting brand new about it so no hate please. that said, if you do enjoy this (which I very much hope you do) please consider reblogging to support my work :) comments are especially appreciated and literally make me so so happy!!

Following you was just part of the job— and Jackson did not like his job mixing with his personal life.

The problem was, he hadn’t had much of a personal life lately.  No time for it; one or two hook-ups, women he met in bars, but that’s it.  And believe it or not, he wanted more than that.  Nobody would accuse Jackson of being sentimental— not really an attitude you can have when you organize illegal weapons sales and political assassinations— but he wasn’t made of stone.  He wanted to be able to share at least part of his life with someone… or, you know, have a nice set of legs waiting for him at home that he could get between every night.  Either, or both, would do.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that his realization that he wanted a girlfriend, or at the very least a plaything of his own, came right around the same time that he started to follow you.  He was only doing it to pick up on your habits, figure out a way to get to you so he could blackmail you into being his inside man for his next job.  It was supposed to be pretty simple: you were a museum events coordinator in charge of an upcoming lecture series which would feature a speech from a Bolivian presidential candidate who was unfortunately unfriendly to cartels.  The American government not only endorsed him, but had him under incredibly tight security.  This speaking event was going to be a rare chance to get to him in a public space without metal detectors, and Jackson was being compensated generously to ensure your museum would let a few extra attendees in the back.

But see, the Bolivian presidential election was the last thing on Jackson’s mind as he watched you through your window.  His eyes drifted all over you, mesmerized by the way you prepared yourself for your day— styling your hair in the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles in your white button-up, pulling those stockings up your thighs…

He caught himself biting his lip and shook it off, straightening up in the driver’s seat of his car; he knew he should probably leave then, beat you to your work and then wander into the museum to feign interest in a few artifacts before striking up a conversation.  But he loitered a bit longer, letting himself imagine how quickly he could rip off those clothes you were so thoughtfully dressing yourself with.

Eventually, he managed to pull his attention away from you and start the car, sighing as he tried to remember his plan of attack for ‘accidentally’ meeting you later today.

~

The museum might’ve been interesting, if he wasn’t so distracted by you.  He was loitering, hands in his pockets, pretending to look at the paintings and artifacts as he waited for you to be near enough to strike up an innocuous conversation with.  Early in the day, he saw you give a tour to a couple considering the museum for a wedding location, but kept his distance— it could be a while before you were available and he didn't want you to notice him yet, or he'd have to justify having been in the museum all day by himself.

For the first time since he’d started this job, Jackson felt slightly nervous to speak to you.  It was always a big step, going from following someone to actually approaching them, but usually it didn’t give him any specific emotional reaction.  Sure, he might feel a certain amount of pressure to do this correctly lest he blow the whole thing by tipping off his target, but he never was worried something would go wrong.  This time, though, he felt his heart picking up every time he glanced at you from across the museum, closer to you than he’d ever been.  His palms were even a bit clammy when he saw you walk by and realized this was the moment he needed to strike.  God, did he really have a crush?  How pathetic… but he couldn’t worry about that now, he was about to lose his chance as you brushed by him quickly.

"Miss?" he got your attention, gently touching your shoulder through your shirt as you passed by; you seemed a little startled by the physicality, yes, but not exactly offended.

"Oh, um— can I help you?" you said.  He’d heard you speak before, on the wiretap and all, but it was a little different in person like this— and directed at him.

"I was gonna ask you about this sculpture, if you didn't mind," he explained with a gentle smile.

"Oh, well, one of our dosants would love to talk to you about our collection—" you began, starting to look for the closest staff member designated to help him, but he interrupted.

"So, you don't know anything about the stuff here?"

Your attention moved back to him and you smiled to hide your obvious defensiveness. "No, I do," you assured, "I actually am uniquely equipped to tell you about this sculpture: I studied Incan art specifically during my master's program."

He gave his best 'quietly impressed' face and nodded; he knew he could get you with that, you had kind of a know-it-all thing going on, which he happened to find annoyingly attractive.  "Alright, then tell me about it," he challenged.

"Well," you sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at the piece, "we got this one a few years ago, it's actually a ceremonial vessel— there’s the llama head and the bird on this side here, those were both animals with a lot of cultural significance…”

As you pointed out elements of the vessel, he leaned in ostensibly to look at where you were gesturing— but it was all an excuse to get close to you, warm you up to him.

“They would’ve used this to pour essentially a form of beer on the ground,” you continued, “in hopes of increasing the strength of the crops and fertility."

"Fascinating," he smiled at you, and you didn’t back away when he stood closer.  Like fish in a barrel.  "How old is it?"

"It's estimated to be about four or five hundred years old,” you explained.

"Wow," he nodded, looking at the stone carving behind the glass again.  "It's interesting to me that humans have always made art— and always been superstitious.  Though I have to be honest, if I was living before the invention of birth control I don't think I'd be praying for fertility."

You smirked a little, and he hoped he hadn't gone too far— but it was fun to look at you and know what you must be thinking about.  He could only hope that you were thinking about it with him in mind.

“Jackson, by the way,” he introduced himself, “my name’s Jackson.  It feels unfair that you’ve gotta wear the nametag and I get to be anonymous.”

You laughed a little, glancing down at the silver nametag on your blazer and then back up at him.  “Fair enough; welcome to our museum, Jackson.”

“So, wait,” he tilted his head, “forgive the late reaction here, but— if you’ve got a master’s degree of that caliber, how’d you end up as an event planner?”

“Well, believe it or not, the position does require historical knowledge,” you explained.  “I started in curation, though— just moved to events because I was too cooped up in the back offices… I like meeting new people.”

Although Jackson would never consider himself particularly empathetic, he did think he had a decent sense of people— specifically, when they were lying.  And that felt like a lie— a white lie, maybe, but still.  A lie you were telling yourself most of all, that this was what you wanted to do.  And it wasn’t that he really thought you disliked your job, moreso that his two weeks of following you did not indicate you harbored a strong desire to meet new people.  You were a total homebody: rejecting offers to go out for drinks or dinner from friends and coworkers, staying up late watching TV instead of hitting the town or something, shrinking into your room every night and staying there until it was time to go to work again.  He’d only seen you leave your house once that first weekend, and it was to pick up groceries— that’s it.  No hot date, no concerts… almost no social life at all.  Either you stayed late at the museum, or you went home.

And he also found that annoyingly attractive.  Jackson, after all, was a workaholic himself; he imagined he would go out and do fun things, if he had the time, but right now nothing sounded better than going home and cuddling up with a sweet girl like you, being lazy couch potatoes together, resting after a long day of espionage, cyberterrorism, actual terrorism, and whatever else his work day got him up to.

….Jesus, when did he get so goddamn sentimental?!

“It certainly seems like a unique job,” Jackson replied. 

“Every day’s a little different,” you agreed.

“Sounds like my job,” he snorted, “but I don’t work with other people much— I think it would be more entertaining with other people around.  Especially when they can tell me everything there is to know about Incan art.”

“Okay, I don’t know everything,” you backpedaled, not seeming to really notice the larger sentiment of his statement, “but I can certainly hold my own.  I like to think we all have something we know a little too much about, and could ramble for ages about.”

“Yeah, I hope so, or we’re just weirdos,” he chuckled.  “For me it’s probably cocktails.  I’m not an alcoholic or anything— I actually don’t drink that much, just socially, you know— but I have this thing where I can guess anybody’s favorite drink order.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but hold on, I can’t guess yours until I really get the vibes.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah— vibes, sure.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, narrowing his eyes as he looked you up and down, biting his lip like he was really thinking about it.

Here was the hard part: he really hadn’t seen you go out for drinks this whole time, so he was actually going to have to guess.  Of course, the fun part of this game was not actually getting it right— if anything, it worked better when he got corrected.  All he really needed was to get you alone long enough to tell you who he really was, what he needed from you, and how he was going to motivate you to do it… but if he could actually seduce you first, that would be a hell of a bonus.

“I’m thinking something a little sweet, not too fruity though,” he thought aloud, “something classic— you have an old soul, I think.”

You seemed to be a little surprised by that analysis, but he figured that meant he was mostly right.

“Your cocktail of choice is, obviously, a sidecar,” he announced.

For a second, he thought he might have got it from the way you smiled, but then you started to laugh.  “You were on the right track,” you admitted.

“Damn,” he snapped his fingers in playful frustration.  After a pause, he realized, “you’re not gonna tell me?”

“I figured I’d give you another guess,” you explained.

“Or,” Jackson countered, “I could take you out tonight, and you could show me yourself.  Your drink order, I mean.”

Alright, that was forward, but he figured he’d been doing well so far.  Instead, though, you tensed up a bit, causing Jackson to knit his eyebrows together for a moment.  “I would, really, but, I have plans tonight… with my boyfriend,” you said.

He swallowed behind a barely-suppressed frown.  Following you for all this time and he hadn’t noticed any boyfriend; were you lying just to get him to back off?  You’d seemed so flattered before.  “Oh?” Jackson tried to get out in his most neutral voice.  “That’s great— is he taking you somewhere nice?

“Even better,” you blinked quickly, a shy smile lifting your face.  “He works here at the museum, but he’s been gone almost an entire month to pick up some artifacts from around Eastern Europe… hasn’t even been able to use a phone out there.  So he’s promised to come over and give me a first look at everything he got, and apparently he’s brought something just for me, so…”

“That’s sweet,” Jackson replied, willing his nostrils not to twitch.  “Nice to know he was thinking of you all the way over there.  I travel a lot for my work, actually, and it’s… hard to find somebody loyal these days.”

You nodded in agreement, sighing slightly.  “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean, gone for a month, no communication, no reminders of you— just out there surrounded by opportunities and nothing keeping him from them,” Jackson went on.  “That’s a lot to get through without at least one drunken encounter.”

You furrowed your brow, looking at him with a sort of grimace.  “I… I guess,” you mumbled in reply.  “I do have a lot of work to get done so I think I’ll just let you explore,” you decided.

“What if I have more questions about the pieces?” he asked.

“Try reading the little plaque underneath it,” you suggested flatly, already turning and walking away.

Jackson watched to leave for a second before scoffing to himself.  Bitch.  But it didn’t make a difference anyways: one way or another, he was going to get to you— for the sake of the job, of course.  Although this boyfriend character was certainly a spanner in the works of his secondary plan to get you in bed, Jackson had to admit that he was ultimately an advantage for his actual purpose with you: an attachment, something he could exploit to get what he wanted.  Do what I say, or he gets hurt.

Of course, he knew he should use that to make you be his inside man for that stupid lecture series— he wasn’t going to get the second half of his payoff until the cartel had their chance to make an example out of the visiting politician.  But, as a small smile crept over his face while he walked out of the museum, he realized that he could use his leverage for so much more than that.

~

The door was unlocked when you got home; beaming, you realized it meant that your boyfriend beat you here, and was likely waiting for you just around the corner.

“Babe?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and shirking your purse and blazer to set down on the wooden credenza.

And yes, he was waiting for you around the corner alright, but you gasped in shock and felt your stomach sink when you saw him.  He was bound to a chair with zipties, restrained at his wrists and ankles with tape over his mouth, looking a bit roughed up and absolutely terrified.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, running to him, but he oddly seemed to pull away from you as much as he could when you tried to break one of the ties.  “What the fuck, what’s— oh my god, are you—?” you rushed, not even knowing where to start and just focusing on freeing him.  But he just kept letting out muffled grunts and shaking his head— like he didn’t want you to keep going.  Of course, you’d been so shocked by it that you hadn’t even considered why he looked so scared, why he seemed to want you to get away from him: whoever did this was still in the house.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but it was too late now; you screamed when someone grabbed you, but the sound was muted by a hand over your mouth.  “Shh,” a voice beside your ear soothed as a blade pressed to your neck.  “Nobody’s going to get hurt if you behave.”

Your boyfriend hung his head defeatedly, and you thought you heard the sound of him crying though it was hard to tell.

“You missed him quite a lot, didn’t you?” the man asked, and you wrinkled your brows together as you wondered how he could’ve known that he was gone for a while.  “Left you all alone here, poor thing— probably got all worked up, lonely, needy… like three nights ago, when I saw you through your bedroom window, touching yourself."

Your face burned with humiliation— not even that he saw you doing that, really, but just knowing he'd been watching you for god-knows how long.  That made you feel more violated than anything.

“Wanted to help you so bad,” he purred, “but I had to wait.  I’m not waiting anymore— you’ve got me feeling pretty fucking impatient these days.”

You kept thinking about what you could do to get him away from you— his feet were just behind yours, you could stomp on his shoe and hope it hurt enough to distract him, or maybe you could wrench your elbow back into his side— but with the knife at your throat, you were afraid that he’d be faster than you if you tried anything.  “Please just— don’t hurt me, please,” you begged, whimpering a little, not sure what else to say at a time like this.

“Oh, honey,” he cooed, “you sound so sweet when you’re scared.”

It was the way he said that word: sweet.  It reminded you of before, something you’d done your best to forget about all day.  Something a little sweet, not too fruity— that weird guy at the museum, he’d said it just like that.  “Oh my god,” you breathed, “it’s— it’s you.”

“You remember my name, don’t you?” he smiled.

“Jackson,” you recalled, “you— oh my god—”

“I’m sure you’re a little relieved,” he chuckled, addressing your boyfriend with a grin as you turned your head enough to look up at his semi-familiar face.  “She was so into me when we met today at the museum,” Jackson informed him proudly.  “You wanted me to fuck you then, didn’t you, baby?”

“No I fucking di—” you began to deny with a sneer, but he quieted you with a finger over your mouth— of course, a finger from the hand still holding the knife, to remind you exactly why you should stop talking.

“Now, try anything, I might just have to hurt you— or, better yet, your shitstain boyfriend over there,” Jackson warned.  “I’m just waiting for an excuse to break a few of his fingers.  Don’t give me one.”

Swallowing, you shut your eyes for a longer moment— you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, like one of those horrific news articles you read before bed just to torture yourself.  Like one of those horror movies guys think are campy and fun but give you the most awful sick feeling because that could really happen.  And now it was really happening, and your first thought was somehow to wonder what you did wrong to let this happen.

“So, are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, tilting his head down to look at you questioningly.

You nodded, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, and he snarled with frustration.

“No, baby, say it like I said it,” he insisted, his tone a warning not to test him again.

“I’m gonna be… I’m gonna be a good girl…” you choked out.

“Whose good girl?” he taunted, and you groaned as you shut your eyes, feeling him pull you closer to him and press his face close to yours.

“Yours!  Your good girl,” you spat out, breath picking up as you heard him purr against your cheek.  “Jackson— please, you don’t… you don’t have to do this.  Please don’t do this.”

You shivered as the knife pressed against you again and moved from your neck down to your shirt, gently slicing off the top button and exposing a little more of your chest.  “Mm, but I want to,” he explained, “wanted you since I first saw you.”

You hated the realization that he likely first saw you quite some time ago, before you ever knew he existed, and that he’d been waiting for this ever since then.

“I think it turns you on, knowing I can do whatever I want to you,” he presumed, cutting off a second button from your shirt.

“Please just go,” you begged, starting to properly cry as his teeth grazed your neck.  “You’re right— you can do whatever you want.  I can’t stop you.  Isn’t that what you wanted to prove?  Just… just don’t make me—”

“Make you?” he repeated.  “No, no— you wanted me.  I could tell.  Only thing stopping you was him.”

He pointed towards your boyfriend with the knife in his hand, who looked devastated and horrified to say the least.

“You could do better, by the way,” Jackson informed you.  “You should be with somebody who can really treat you right.”

Another button fell to the floor; your bra was visible now, baby pink lace, and your nipples hardened from the cool air on your skin— that, and the way Jackson’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck.  

“Are you getting wet for me, baby?” he whispered to you as his knife trailed delicately over your skin, tracing the curve of your breasts.  “Think it’s time for me to finally give you what you need?”

You took a deep, but shaky, breath as you tried to put on a brave face and brace for what was to come.  “My… my bedroom is upstairs,” you whispered, and Jackson laughed in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Oh, eager already,” he taunted.

“I just wanna get this over with,” you insisted.

“Sure,” he said facetiously with a mischievous smirk and a wink to match; you felt like you were gonna be sick.  “But bedrooms are a little, you know… basic?  That’s probably what you’re used to, real traditional stuff: missionary, in the bed, in the dark, for a few minutes on weekends only.  That’s the vibe I’m getting, at least.  You’re not used to being with somebody romantic— you know, spontaneous.”

He turned you around to face him, making you yelp a little as he spoke by your ear.  

“Somebody who just has to have you; right here, right now,” he cooed, running his tongue along the outside of your ear before suddenly kissing roughly along your neck.

“N-no, please,” you begged, imagining the humiliation you were in store for if he really did fuck you on your living room floor in front of the man you loved.  “Please, I— I said I’ll be good for you, just— take me to my room, please.”

"No, baby,” Jackson purred as he held your chin, “let’s show your little boyfriend here what you look like when a real man fucks you, huh?"

Whining, you jerked your arms forward to try to break away, but it only ensured the bruises his fingers would leave on your skin.

A second later, you were shoved to the ground, and he was on top of you wearing a wide grin.  You could hear your boyfriend kicking and screaming in the corner, but your attention was more focused on Jackson starting to open his belt.  

"Fuck! Get the fuck off of me!" you yelped, kicking and shoving as hard as you could and finding each one more helpless than the last. "You— you fucking piece of shit!"

He smacked you across the face only to pull it back harshly by the jaw, glaring into your eyes. "Better be careful with that dirty mouth," he warned, shoving two fingers between your lips until you gagged on them. "Don't need to wash that out with soap, do we?"

As you choked, you shook your head, hoping it would be enough of an apology to get you some air.

"How about come?" he joked, making you gag for more than one reason, and he laughed at the tears that rolled down your temples.

He took his fingers out of your mouth and reached down to his fly again, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he freed himself.  You sobbed a little when you accidentally caught a glimpse of his erection in his hand; he grunted when you tried to push him off again, and responded by grabbing both your wrists and pinning them down above your head.  He hummed as he stroked himself a bit, looking down at you trapped under him.

“Thought you said you were gonna be good for me,” he recalled, chuckling when you bit your shaking lip.  “You sure you don’t need me to hurt Romeo over there, give you a little motivation?”

You shook your head.  “No— I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say.  Don’t hurt him.”

“Open your legs,” he ordered.  

Hesitantly, you lifted your legs up a bit and spread them, cringing at the happy groan you heard when your skirt started to roll up your thighs.  

“Don’t move your hands,” he warned before he let go of them, leaning back and looking down at you: spread out under him, his for the taking.

He snapped off the last few buttons of your shirt, humming when your torso was exposed further.  His hand started at your neck and ran down to grope your chest through the lacy bra; he purred, pinching your hardened nipples until you were forced to react.

Pulling it down, he took a quick breath at the sight of your bare tits— his chest rising and falling— and he set his knife aside to knead them both with a hum.  "Been thinking about these for a while…" he mumbled.  You gasped when he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth, suckling with a wide mouth as you scrunched your nose and looked away.  Still, it made your insides pulse when he swirled his tongue around, only to pop off a second later and move to the other.  "Damn," he breathed, leaning back again to move his attention lower.

Starting at your knees, he rubbed your legs carefully, moving a little higher every time until he was gripping needily at your thighs; his own breathing was a little faster as he did it.  

You hadn't exactly imagined how this would be, obviously, but you still were surprised at how long he was taking.  Was he just trying to build up the anticipation to scare you?  Or was it for his own benefit?

He was gentle for just a few seconds before suddenly flaring his nostrils and ripping your stockings open.  Through the new hole in the fabric, he rubbed your panties and you bit down on your tongue to avoid crying any harder.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, then laughed, as he pet your cunt through the lace— they matched your bra, of course.  Your boyfriend was coming back from a long trip, you’d wanted to do something nice for him… that idea backfired completely.  “All dressed up, matching and everything… you’re too good to me, babydoll.”

You were about to correct him, make sure both of them knew that this had nothing to do with Jackson, but your open mouth only let out a gasp when Jackson pulled your panties aside to touch you.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned when he slid two fingers between your lips.  “So wet.  Fuck.  When’d you get like that, huh?  Hmm, it was the knife, wasn’t it?”

He looked over at your boyfriend and gave him a terribly smug look while he slipped a finger inside your hole.

“Women like a sense of danger,” he informed the tied man flatly.  “But… I think your girl likes it even more than most.”

You flexed on his finger, turning his attention back to you, and he licked his lips as he slipped another finger in until you winced.

“That’s too much for you already, baby?” he noticed.  “Fuck, I might break you…”

He curled the fingers inside you, clearly trying to get you warmed up for him, and you shut your eyes tight in hopes your face wouldn’t show any reaction.  There was a sense of relief when he stopped and pulled his fingers out, but it didn’t last long since the next thing he did was grab your jaw and press those fingers to your lips. 

“Ever tasted yourself before?” he asked, and you tried to turn your face away but it was useless.  “Come on, it’s good, I’ll show you.”

He licked his own fingers first, moaning in satisfaction as he did it.

“Fuck, it’s sweet,” he promised.  “Now you try it.”

This time, when he put his fingers to your mouth, you opened it and let him push them inside.  He slid them over your tongue, watching you with dark eyes.

“Suck them,” he instructed you quietly, almost a whisper, and though your cheeks burned you wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks.  “Mm, that’s it— see, you can be a good girl.  Knew you could.”

You were panting a little, for some reason, when he took his fingers away, leaving your mouth slack and wet.  He brought his hands down to his fly to finish freeing his cock, and you looked up, to the side, basically anywhere but at… that.

“Look at it,” he encouraged you, and you shook your head.  “Don’t you wanna see it before I put it inside you?”

You figured you could get him to shut up if you just did it, so you went ahead and took a glance down at his erection in his hand, only for a terrified whimper to catch in your throat.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he grinned.  “Trying to remember the last time you had a dick this big, right?”

Trying to figure out how that’s supposed to fit.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he demanded suddenly, sitting back enough to get you room to do it.

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked angry as he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up a bit until you yelped.

“Go on!  Hands and fucking knees, did I stutter?” he ordered, louder.

You were a little sore and weak all over, and it became even more apparent when you awkwardly got up off the floor; you avoided your boyfriend’s gaze as you took the position, opting to just stare down at the rug under you instead, suddenly fascinated by every detail in hopes it could somehow distract you from this.  From the feeling of him delicately pushing your skirt up over your ass and his hands all over you, from the way he pushed your knees apart with his own and settled between them, from the sick drop in your stomach as his cock’s head rubbed over your clit and lined up to your opening.  Yes, it sure was a riveting pattern on this rug alright…

But, of course, Jackson wouldn’t let you get through this that easily. “Beg for it,” you heard his firm voice from behind you.

“Jackson, come on, I—” you choked, “I— just—”

“It’s okay, babydoll, go on…” he egged you on, as if shyness was the reason you were hesitating.

“Please…” you began, shutting your eyes tightly.  “Please fuck me.”

You tried not to react too much when he pushed inside, but it was big, and he himself let out a husky groan at the feeling as he filled you.  You managed to stay silent at first, but a little squeak came out halfway through, and it turned into a loud sigh when he was all the way inside.  “Fuck,” he breathed, dropping his head back with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, it’s tight.  Guess that’s what happens when nobody’s here to treat you right— and I don’t just mean because he was out of town.  I can tell nobody’s given you what you need in a long time…”

Before you could wonder what could possibly make him capable of telling that, he took a tight hold of your hips and began to fuck you— slower than you expected, but not quite delicate.

Shaking, you tried to keep yourself propped up on your wobbly arms as he set his pace, and tried to keep yourself quiet while he did this.  The last thing he needed was any more reasons to think you liked this.

Still, you couldn’t fight the whimper that came when he suddenly slammed himself into you, rougher than before; your thighs even quivered for a moment.  “Fuck,” you choked out, under your breath, and he hummed back at you as he sped up a little.

“Not too deep, is it?” he asked, though it didn’t seem like he was actually concerned for your well-being (obviously).  “Not used to anything this big, huh?”

You were afraid he was going to force you to answer that, but instead he surprised you by putting a hand between your shoulder blades and shoving you down; you gasped and grunted when your chest pressed to the floor, your face thankfully turned to the side against the rug— but unfortunately, it meant you were looking right at your boyfriend.  You had to shut your eyes, too ashamed that he was seeing you like this.

“There, you like that better?” he purred as he held your hips up against his, but the new angle only forced him deeper until you were choking on nothing with every thrust.  Your hands searched wildly along the floor for something to hold onto, but eventually just had to settle for gripping the rug for dear life.  “Mm, fuck, s’good— you feel so fucking good, baby…”

The compliment sent an unwilling shiver up your spine, and your back arched even deeper than he’d forced it to.  It was too much, it was all far too much, but your toes were curling inside your (ruined) pantyhose and you bit down on your lip without thinking about it.

“Oh, see how much she likes it?” Jackson grunted, apparently still addressing the captive boyfriend in the chair— you really wished he would just leave him out of this.  “Fuck, what a pretty little whore…”

Not only could he switch from sickly-sweet to rageful in a moment, but you realized that he could somehow seem to be both at once.  Still spitting out praises and insults all at one, he fucked you rougher and meaner as your moans— pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t want to— grew louder.  He kept getting more aggressive— harder and faster, harder and faster— until you were all but screaming and you couldn’t keep your hips up anymore.  Each thrust pushed you down until you were flat against the floor, but he kept fucking you and holding the back of your neck.  One thrust seemed to go too deep suddenly, and you yelped as you reached back to try to grab his thigh out of instinct.

“Shh, shh, s’okay, baby,” he assured with a hiss.  “Fuck.”

But he kept doing it, kept fucking you deep (if a little slower) as you whined and shook under him.  “Jackson,” you heard yourself breathe, “please— I-I can’t—”

“God,” he growled, “say my name again.  That’s so hot.”

You hadn’t meant it like that, but now it was too late.  “N-no,” you tried to deny, but that didn’t last long as he grabbed you by the hair and forced your head up, laying over you enough to speak right against your ear.

“Say. My fucking. Name,” he spat.

“Jackson,” you choked out against the strain on your throat from having your neck cranked back like this.  “Jackson, f-fuck—”

He groaned and dropped your head, propping himself up so he could fuck you faster again; his gaze moved down to where his body filled yours, where each thrust made your ass bounce under torn pantyhose…

As he slowed down for a moment, panting, you wondered if maybe it was almost over— maybe it already was, but that seemed too good to be true. He was still holding you down just as hard, anyway; he put his whole weight on your arms as he turned to look at your boyfriend tied up in the chair. 

"Does she do anal?" Jackson asked him point-blank.

Your struggle renewed as you screamed angrily— but you couldn't keep it up, it fell into a helpless sob a moment later. Your boyfriend didn't give much of an answer— couldn't, really, on account of the duct tape— just kicked around against his restraints again.

Jackson shrugged as he looked down at you crying under him. "Well, you do now," he decided, pulling out and spitting into his hand.

You’d never felt so helpless, laying there on the floor while he pushed his fat tip up to your puckered hole.  “Please,” you begged for mercy, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your head from the rug and it was all muffled and pathetic.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted as he started to press forward, but your whole body jumped and you let out a loud whine when his head slipped inside with a sort of pop— all that pressure giving way to a sick, stinging stretch.

“Oh my god oh my god,” you whimpered, feeling goosebumps break out all over your body from the sharp pain.  “I can’t— please, I really can’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna go real slow,” he promised under his breath, moaning loudly as he pushed in a little deeper.  Laying on the floor like this, there was really nowhere for you to go, no way to run from the feeling.  “Just breathe, long slow breaths— focus on staying relaxed.”

Frustratingly, it was actually pretty good advice; it certainly didn’t make it painless, but when you shut your eyes and thought as much about breathing and as little about anything else as you could, it helped.

“See?  Just relax, babydoll,” he whispered, but relaxing could only do so much as he slid the rest of the way in and you felt like your whole body might go numb.  Your eyes rolled back, your insides (all of them, it seemed) flexed, your heart was pounding… you felt sick, and disgusting, and used.

He breathed heavy as he laid his weight on top of you, slipping an arm under you to wrap around your shoulders and neck. 

"Fuck, that's a tight fuckin' ass," he grunted, laughing a little as he glanced at your boyfriend, slowly beginning to move again. "This one's got you spoiled, huh? How'd a loser like you get your hands on a perfect fucktoy like this?"

He bit down on the shell of your ear as he picked up his pace quickly— way too quickly— and soon he was growling each time he slammed his hips against your ass.  You couldn’t even tell what noises you were making anymore…

"But you're gonna be mine now," he whispered to you. "Oh fuck, s'all gonna be mine. Gonna fill these pretty holes of yours every fuckin' day."

You dropped your head down defeatedly onto the floor, though shocks of pain were still making your fingers and toes curl while he roughly fucked your other hole.

“Yeah, fuck, you fuckin’ like it,” he snarled as he fucked you faster.  “Needy little slut.  You like getting all your holes filled, huh?”

You simply bit down on your lip, not realizing it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Answer me," he insisted.

"I-I don't like it," you said— quietly, because if you spoke any louder it would've been mostly unintelligible with sobs.

"Huh?" he taunted, leaning in closer.

"It hurts, Jackson," you choked, pleading.

“No?” he noticed, feigning shock with heavy sarcasm in his tone.  “Are you saying you don’t like it up the ass?”

“Please, please,” you choked out, “fuckin’ hurts— god, please, hurts—”

"You don't like it, sweetheart?" he cooed at you, cloying condescension dripping from every word as he roughly pet the hair out of your face. You whined and shook your head. "Well, I could always put it back in your cunt, would that make you feel better?"

He chuckled at your grimace of disgust.

"Is that too dirty for you?" he wondered, clicking his tongue.  "Aw, it's okay, just gonna give you what you wanted— hold still, baby."

You winced when he pulled out of your ass, only to whine as he slid back into your cunt; you hid your face, feeling how absurdly warm it had become from all this, and tried not to think about how dehumanizing what he had just done to you was.

He picked his pace right back up when he entered you, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction.  "Oh my god you're fucking dripping, is that from being fucked in your little ass?" he noticed. "Jesus Christ, wettest fucking pussy I ever had... somebody likes it dirty, hm?"

You wanted to deny it, but he wasn’t lying about your physical reaction; you were soaking, and you didn’t even know why.  It wasn’t like you found much pleasure in that experience physically, it was rather agonizing— and then there was the thought of it, of knowing you’d been used that way, and it just made you feel dizzy and weird.  Regardless, it was true… your body responded even when your mind was running in circles convincing itself there was nothing enjoyable about this.

“Such a pretty thing,” Jackson purred at you as he sped up again, shaking your whole body against the floor— that arm around your shoulders was the only thing keeping you from being pushed away, and he held you tightly like he really was worried you’d get away somehow, even though you’d stopped resisting quite a while ago.  

At least it didn’t hurt anymore— except that you were still a little sore, and he was holding you too tight and his weight made it hard to breathe, and you were probably going to get rug burn, and you felt disgusting.  But in a literal sense, it hurt less.

“Think I need to turn you over and get a good look at that pretty face,” he decided, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back.  Maybe it was just because you knew it was only for a moment, but being empty wasn’t as much of a relief as you expected.  You were pretty much limp by this point, letting him turn you over and simply looking up at him blankly.  “Oh,” he said as he smiled proudly, “look how fucked out you look— and I’m not even done with you yet.”

Lifting your legs and pressing them against your chest, he slid back in until he was deeper than you thought possible, and you gasped and shivered helplessly.  “F-fuck, wait—“

He started to fuck into you quickly, and you nearly screamed, reaching down to try to hold his thigh or push him back or something to keep him from going so far inside you, but nothing deterred him.  For how drained you were a moment ago, the shock of this gave you renewed energy, and you hated feeling your walls bear down on him in sick, overwhelming pleasure.  “Oh god,” he moaned, “so fucking good.”

As hard as you were trying not to be loud, your efforts were lost when he reached down and roughly rubbed at your swollen clit; again, you tried to reach to stop him, holding onto his wrist and pushing his hand away with all your strength, but he bested you easily and kept going.  “Fuck!” you screamed.  “Please, please— it’s too much, I—”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed, watching proudly as your back arched and your head tilted back with a gasp.  

You hadn’t even realized you were building to an orgasm— you would’ve sworn you weren’t, before, but now you felt all sensitive and sticky, and his thumb on your clit was relentless, and the shivers that had been running all over you all evening were turning into hard, heavy jolts of— of something.  Something you’d been holding back longer than you realized.  Something you hadn’t felt in much, much longer than three weeks.

“It’s okay,” he kept encouraging you with a proud grin that turned into a growl through his teeth as he fucked you harder.  “Show him what it looks like when you’re not faking it, babydoll.  Show him who you really belong to now.”

“Please,” you cried, the word barely spoken and more just a shape you made around your cries.  If he didn’t stop now, you wouldn’t be able to, either; you were spasming uncontrollably, inside and out, it was just getting worse and worse (or better and better, depending on how you looked at it).

It felt fucking good.  You would die before you admitted it, but you didn’t have to— it was obvious.  And it was overtaking everything now, even your shame, until for one impossible moment, you were completely shameless.  You weren’t sure you had ever felt quite like that before— not just physically, but spiritually.  Shameless.  Even though all you’d felt until now was ashamed.  “Good girl,” Jackson praised you, though it was sort of lost on you as you were coming down from a high that hit you hard enough to not even feel real until it was nearly over.  

It was like time had slowed down, and then snapped back to superspeed, to hyperreality, when he finally pulled his hand away and let you have a small reprieve.  

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, oh my god," he gasped, his voice getting oddly high-pitched as he said it. "Want me to come inside, babydoll, or paint that pretty face?"

“Not… not inside,” you warned, just conscious enough to remember that.

“Mm?  Why not?” he smirked.

You were still blinking away the blurriness in your vision, panting, trying to process all that you’d just felt— so you really didn’t have any energy for stupid questions like that.  “What?” you just asked groggily.  “Why… why do you think?!”

He just laughed briefly— more like a hum— and kept going.  Of course, you should’ve known he’d do it once he realized your boyfriend didn’t; but wasn’t it enough that you and your boyfriend used condoms and Jackson had already gone past that?

“Just— just don’t,” you begged again, shut up with a firm hand over your mouth suddenly as he grunted lowly above you with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he said, a sort of warning though it wasn’t specific.  “Fuck!”

He bit his lip when it happened; you shut your eyes, not wanting to see his face all slack and flushed like that with his hair falling forward and his neck and jaw flexing.  But closing your eyes only made the feeling inside you more undeniable: the rush of warmth, the flexing against your walls as he pushed himself in as deep as he could.  You whimpered a little, though you weren’t sure it was audible to anyone but yourself, and Jackson sighed as he emptied himself into you.

He took his hand away with a deep breath, and all you did was let your mouth fall open and your eyes blink numbly— what else was there to do?

As he caught his breath, he laughed a little, very softly; he put his hands on the floor beside your head, propping himself up but letting his head hang down loosely for a second— he was still smiling.

“You’re… you’re really something else, you know that, babydoll?” he informed you.

You didn’t say anything, and he sighed again just before he pulled out— you both winced, for different reasons, and he took a moment to hold your legs open so he could look at what he’d done to you; you felt filthy and exposed like that, but you were too weak to try to stop him or even to close your legs.

“Now that’s just beautiful,” he decided in reaction to whatever he saw; you didn’t want to picture it, how stretched out and used up you must look, but you could feel his come oozing out, running down.

Some of the numbness was already wearing off, at least physically, and you were beginning to realize how purely un-ergonomic it was to get fucked on the floor.  Your back and shoulders were sore, your legs were tight when you finally got to lay them down again after being held up for so long… you tried not to imagine how long you’d be feeling the effects of this, wearing bruises and feeling knots and having to know exactly where they came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled as he lifted up your limp upper body, pulling you closer to him.  He held your face for a second, petting your cheek which was still a bit clammy with sweat.  “Kiss me,” he demanded, though he said it somewhat softly; you didn’t actually sit up and do it for him, but you let him press his lips to yours and you tried your best to half-heartedly mirror his movements as he did it.

He held your head and neck more firmly and slid his tongue into the kiss, making you whimper a little but that was the end of your protest.  You thought it was a little strange that he wanted to kiss you now, but maybe it was just a matter of claiming you in the final way since he’d pretty much covered all the others.

When he broke away, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and smiled at you sweetly.  

It’s over, you told yourself, hoping to feel more relieved.  It’s over, he’s finally done with you.  You did it.  It’s over.  But as those words repeated in your mind, you only felt emptier than ever.

“Look at your boy over there,” Jackson mumbled beside your ear, a smirk on his lips as he shook you a bit with the arm around you.  “You see it, don’t you?  He looks different now.”

You dared to glance at your captive boyfriend, who you realized you hadn’t heard muffled protests from in quite some time.  His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but dark, too; his stare was heavy and piercing.  You suddenly felt sick.

“He looks at you different now.”

You bit down on your lip as it started to shake; you felt worse than ever with him looking at you like that.  Things hadn’t been perfect before he left— nothing’s ever perfect— but they were good, and easy, and now you felt like he hated you.  But what had you done wrong?  All you’d done was try to keep him unharmed by appeasing this awful, horrible person… 

Jackson had already been speaking quietly, but he dropped his voice down to whisper as he rubbed your shoulder.  “I don’t think he’ll look at you the same way ever again,” he posited, and you swallowed as your stomach dropped.  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered under your breath.

“He’s never seen you like that before,” Jackson explained, “and he understands now that he can’t do for you what I can.”

Jackson brought his hand to his own chest as he said that, but then reached up to wipe up another tear that rolled down your cheek.  “Please,” you said, looking at your boyfriend though he wouldn’t meet your gaze, “don’t— don’t think that I— it’s not my fault!  I didn’t want this to happen!”

“Shh, you don’t have to lie anymore,” Jackson cooed at you, “we’ve all seen the truth now, it’s alright.”

You were exhausted, you were devastated, you were too overwhelmed to even feel terrified anymore; you dropped your head onto Jackson’s shoulder defeatedly.  After all you’d been through tonight, you were starting to lose track of what was real anymore.

He let you cry quietly against him for a while, petting your head, until finally breaking the silence.  “Now, the thing is, there’s actually just… one more thing I need you to do for me,” he admitted, and you started to cry harder again.

“Please— please, I did everything you asked,” you sputtered out through your tears, “you took.  Everything. From me.”

“Hold on, that’s not true,” he frowned, “you’ve still got your cuck boyfriend over there, even if he’s not quite what he used to be— you still love him, don’t you?  Can’t help that?”

“O-of course I do,” you insisted, feeling oddly guilty as you said it.

“So, you don’t want me to hurt him?” 

Even if this was the end— even if he would hold what was done to you against you, which would break your heart— you couldn’t have that on your conscience.  You shook your head.

“I didn’t think so,” Jackson nodded, “you’re too sweet for that.  I won’t hurt him, and I’ll let him go, if you promise to do what I ask you to.”

“What more… what more could you possibly want…” you breathed, shaking your head, trying not to imagine what else there was for him to do to you.

“Something a lot less fun than what I wanted before,” he smirked.  “What I need from you now is purely work-related.”

You wrinkled your brows together with a sniffle as you began to slowly compose yourself.  “Work…?”

“Let me tell you a little bit more about what I do for a living…”

[toxicanonymity]

when raider met sweet pea

1k words  | analysis of raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider Joel Master List 

This is a peek inside early, unevolved raider joel in the original fic from March. We know how much he’s grown since then, but he’s done terrible, inexcusable things, and he knows it.  NOTES: You're referred to as sweet pea in this, Joel's pet name for you. General HC followed by Q&A. Thank you @milla-frenchy for always having good Qs. I have great Qs from others too that I'll get to as I can (looking at u @javier-penas-wifexx420, and others). To raider's pr team, sorry for going back in time but FIWB. WARNINGS: References to noncon, assault.

Here’s how I HC what happened under the surface:  When Joel interrupted the men from taking sweet pea, it wasn't a noble rescue mission. Mainly, he was fed up with the men and wanted to put them in their place. But then, one of the men used the butt of his rifle under her chin to make her look up, and this is what unlocked or triggered something in Joel:  She looked at Joel thinking he was saving her, and something in her face had a subconscious effect on him -- like he saw her hope and appreciation, and saw someone looking at him like he was a good man who mattered to them. It made him feel needed, which he hadn’t felt for so long that he didn’t even recognize the feeling, or know how to feel it, much less what to do with it.

That moment created the tiniest crack, a minuscule window into the man buried under the persona built by trauma and the apocalypse. The crack was too tiny to change his behavior yet, but that tiny window allowed him to see a glimmer of something else possible and allowed him to subconsciously connect with her in a way he hadn't connected in ages.  From his raider persona, everyone is pretty 2D, so consciously, he's not seeing or treating her (or anyone) as a real person at this point. But that moment still resulted in a “spark,” like a magnetism, and the crack in his shell grows over time. 

When he takes her inside: it was likely unusual that he took her somewhere private. Normally, he does things in front of the other men to show dominance (see Stash House).  Subconsciously, that tiny part of him wanted to feel like a protector, and taking her somewhere private may have been his pathetic idea of a protective gesture, physically picking her up and taking her away from the worse (more violent) guys.

He takes her to the room intending for her to suck his dick by default, but I don't think P in V was always his intent:  He doesn't threaten or mention fucking her upfront when he’s telling her what’s going to happen.  He tells her she's gonna suck his dick and to be a good girl and it'll be over quick. While she sucks him, he decides he has to have her (be inside her).  He says "alright sweet pea, now pull down your pants for me." He was acting on his primitive urges and what his body wanted in that moment for whatever reason -- he's a raider and has a huge sense of entitlement. Even though his escalation wasn’t out of malice, the effect is that he made the attack worse. He’s a bad person and a r*pist, and he knows it.

(Note, I’m only censoring this word because other people censor it and I sense some people find it jolting to see even if they read noncon. I'm not censoring it to try to make him look better. His past is a part of him, there's no getting around the fact that he's a r*pist. He's the last person who would want it forgiven or excused. He kinda hates himself ). 

Q: I've been wondering if he could have done to other women what he did to sweet pea in the 1st chapter

He did at least make other women suck his dick in the past. As for how he sees his past behavior now, it'll come out eventually, not like an OOC monologue, like a word in passing or implied here or there.

Q: I think you wrote somewhere that Joel didn't approve of the behavior of some of his men with women, and that Carter wasn't like that (was I dreaming?)  

The men who had sweet pea at the beginning of ch 1 are more physically aggressive and violent with women, physically forcing them and hurting them, whereas Joel calmly told sweet pea what to do (while he was heavily armed) and didn’t physically hurt her. The other men will smack them around and gang rape them. Joel feels like that behavior from men is weak, like if you're going to physically hurt someone, pick on someone your own size. He doesn’t feel moral superiority for this (I mean he doesn't see himself as a good guy), but he sees himself as stronger and more dominant than men who need to hurt a weaker person.

Q: Why is he so possessive and jealous, since day 1? In failed rescue : "He describes you. Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes darken.  He waits a beat before answering." I love that 😏 but it's super fast. Did she trigger something in him from day one?

When he initially decided she's his so quickly, most importantly, he means she's not anyone else's. He's in charge, he's claimed her, he's dominant, and he's the boss. That was his original intent and he didn't expect it to go further than that.  But it goes beyond that because of the moment explained above. So it's also his primitive instinct that she's his, and that’s what you see when her bf describes her in your quote. Whatever connection or feeling was created by the way she looked at Joel made her special, and he couldn't let go of it. So she became like a precious possession at that point. Since then, he’s slowly evolved to where she’s not just a possession, but certainly still his. 

—

Thank you so much for reading. I really adore everyone's interest and investment in raider!Joel. If you love raider joel, please interact with his fics -- it's always better late than never. Comments mean a lot no matter how small, and reblogs mean a lot regardless of blog size. I know most of raider's fans started as lurkers, and I don't judge for your lurking era. Most of my tumblr bffs started as lurkers.

Ik the tense is all over the place in this sorry lol

TY ILY 🖤🖤🖤

[abbywifyforlifey]

Ouch! Sorry..

cw: mentions of sex, sex injuries (reader), nudity mentions, pet names (babe, baby ect), use of y/n

Abby Anderson x reader

Inspired by that scene in greys anatomy, iykyk

this also kind of sucks but oh well!

It started off as another quiet morning in the WLF stadium. The cold Seattle wind blew through our halls and the sun peaked out the window, creating a warm glow in the room.

Abby had to leave early for patrol, leaving you alone in bed.

Finally you decide to get up out of bed, at 1:18 pm in the afternoon. (Only because you hadn't had breakfast)

You notice a slight ache from.. Places down under as you where getting changed, but you didn't think much of it.

Walking through the halls you see manny chuckling to himself.

"You good there amigo?". I'm fine ..you reply trying to ignore to burning pain coming from under your cargo pants.

"why are you walking that?, you look like a Pingüino.

''piss off Manny'', you scoff trying to walk normally past him

After penguin waddling you made it to your favorite place in the stadium, the cafeteria. You wince slightly at the pain on your ass sitting down.

Hey Mel, where's abs? You ask, "I don't know but what's wrong with you?" She asks noticing how your face twists up slightly as you sit down

Nothing" you reply trying to act natural. "Whatever you say," she says biting back a smile.

"So... What did you and Abby get up to last night" you roll your eyes. "Because I can tell you that nobody walks like that when nothing is wrong"

I just...I have an injury, Mel suddenly looks concerned ''what kind of injury?

Before she continues you interrupt her "Mel, you are one of my best friends and I trust you with my life" She nods "Yeah, and?" I need a favor... A certain type of favor.

"Oh my god y/n!" That's how you ended up behind a certain in the wlf first aid area, bent over bare, on a table with your pants down right in front of your best friend.

shhh not so loud! you whisper, already embarrassed enough

how did you-.. why do you have a bruise on your ass? she asks clearly horrified

it's a long story...okay...can you just- help me, please.

Jesus Christ y/n" Mel says getting wipes to clean the bruise.

it's from when Abby lifted me onto a table okay? you say ashamed

"so a sex injury?" Mel says amused

"Hey Mel have you seen the- OH MY GOD"

NORA!? You say horrified as you turn around to see Nora standing behind Mel, a concerned look on her face.

"That's going to blister bad if you don't clean that up, here let me help Mel"

You put your face in your hands, trying to keep whatever dignity you had left.

"Busy night huh?" Nora asks amused

Its not funny okay!? You say annoyed

"It's okay, we're all women here no need to be embarrassed y/n"

That's not helping guys!

"I know, I know but it's not like we don't know what you and Abby get up to"

"If anything your lucky, I don't remember the last time Owen was this passionate to me"

I hate both of you... god. you express

"jeez y/n, this is something."

"this explains the penguin waddle" they both chuckle

"That's what I said" The three of you heard the curtain open, turning your heads around to see Manny and Abby, who seemed to be quite amused and concerned at the same time

"MANNY GET OUT OF HERE!" the four women express to him as he quickly turns around and walks out.

Everyone but Abby please leave! you express

After Mel and Nora leave, you pull your pants up and explain to Abby what happened.

"you okay?" Abby asks, softly chuckling

I will be, you reply.

"I think next time we should watch where we are going" you hum in agreeance.

"i don't think Mel and Nora are going to look the same at me or you ever again"

"I wouldn't be surprised to be honest, although we've heard enough of Manny's stories. this is tame compared to some of those stories."

you laugh with her, avoiding eye contact, which does not go un noticed.

"hey?' she wraps her arms around your waist looking down at you, nothing but love in her ocean eye

"next time something like this happens, tell me. okay?"

okay'' you look up at her

I will say, for someone with a bruise on their ass, you still looked pretty-"

Abigail Anderson! you say, the two of you giggle

Okay! sorry" she exclaims in a sarcastic tone

"your lucky i love you abs"

yeah? well, I love you too.

why don't you prove that statement then? you reply in flirtatious manner, smirking.

i think i will" she says looking down at your lips and back into your eyes. slowly closing the gap between the two of you.

but you're not complaining, just as long as Abby is with her person, she's happy.

[newmih]

A few drops of rain

Words: 768

Characters : Giyuu Tomioka x female reader (Hashira)

Summary : y/n meets Giyuu in a restaurant lost on the side of a road.

A/N: it's 11:48pm and I'm writing for Demon Slayer instead of learning the 4 pages in Spanish that are waiting for me nicely… I don't even have the strength to reread and it's really just sad and cute compote I guess By the way that's my first try writing for an anime...

/please reblog if you liked it <;3/ /English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake I made./ /Picture is not mine./

Masterlist

Bonne lecture

Giyuu was not in the habit of carrying out accompanied missions. Most of the demon slayers who had followed him had realized this after a few minutes. His reluctance to make conversation, or simply the lack of desire to do so, had immediately made him look unpleasant.

He hadn't really heard about it, or if he had, didn't care. Since he was a child, others had been labeling him as such, and although it hurt him at first, he had quickly gotten used to it.

With such a reputation ahead of him, he was sure he would have peace and could work alone. Well, almost.

The Hashira y/n also spent most of his missions alone. The sound of her footsteps was her only company. She had been used to this way of life when she was young, but the idea of having a comrade did not displease her, on the contrary.

It was only with her two sabers that she pushed open the door of a roadside restaurant. She had never minded walking until the sound of thunder and the rain began to fall.

She didn't hate it, only when she was the victim.

She took a seat in front of a window, alone. There weren't many customers, only an old person asleep on a table, a hooded young woman watching the menu and a man she could only see from behind. She immediately recognized his straight and cold posture and the mismatched kimono he always wore.

The eagle that served as her messenger had never mentioned the presence of another Hashira near her, but she ignored it. After a few years of informing her, he knew how much she liked solitude, time for herself.

She retrieved her bag and took a seat beside him. He had no visible reaction to her appearance and simply continued what he was doing: bringing the chopsticks to his mouth in extreme concentration.

The old cook approached and allowed y/n to place her order. She moved away and calm returned to the two fighters. As always, neither spoke to the other. y/n did not do so out of respect for Giyuu. She had gotten to know him in silence, by observing him. He didn't talk much, only when he felt it was necessary. She didn't know why he was the way he was but she wouldn't allow herself to judge.

Her meal arrived and she thanked the waitress with a smile before attacking her bowl. In the middle of it, she stopped, wiped her mouth with a napkin and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a paper folded in four that she unrolled on her lap.

The paper was a few days old, but she thought one of the articles was related to the case she was on. She put it on the table and slid it to Giyuu. He finally turned his calculating gaze to the ink.

The demon slayer asked him silently if he was on the same case. He quickly read the content before nodding. They would then make the rest of the journey together. The idea reassured y/n somewhat. She was one of the most powerful women of her generation, but she was still a woman and the world was still not safe for her gender. She would have loved to be able to say otherwise, but it wasn't, and until it was, she wouldn't feel completely safe, just as she wouldn't feel safe until all the demons were vanquished.

The company of a friend always reassured her. In her experience, men were generally less friendly when they weren't in front of a woman alone.

They set off again at the end of their meal, without waiting to digest. The storm was still going on, even if the rain had calmed down a bit. The clouds that covered the sky were so dark that it seemed for a moment that night had fallen.

She stepped outside, still protected by the front of the building, and looked up worriedly. Her hood was still wet, as were the rest of her clothes, and she wouldn't bet against the fact that she would probably get sick if she went back in.

Giyuu glanced at her before pulling out an umbrella from his belongings and opening it on both of them. He made sure that the woman had as much space as possible, even if he ended up with a wet shoulder.

The smile that she offered to him warmed up enough the interior so that he did not think any more about his body that was cooling more and more.

[darlingvernon]

bitten 02 | jeon wonwoo.

↳ a series of non-chronological drabbles + one shots about crown prince wonwoo and his lover

◇ wonwoo x female reader ◇ vampire au ◇ rating: 18+ ◇ warnings: none in this drabble ◇ 1.2k [2/?]

Author’s Note: As I said in the short summary, these will not be in chronological order and I don’t know how many parts it’ll have. If it generates enough interest, I may open either requests or suggestions on what you would all like to see next from vampire!Wonwoo. Also, I write these differently to how I normally write my fics. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think!

PS. this is unedited i'm sorry.

Disclaimer: In case someone does catch it, this is a repurposed work from a different fandom I wrote for. If there are any concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out! This will be the last repurposed part and the next drabbles will be new.

Staring out the window of his balcony, Wonwoo wonders at the blanket of white snow that covers the land. Whilst most despise the winter season due to being forced to stay indoors and hibernate, he revels in it. Though, it isn’t like Wonwoo is like most people. No one even refers to him as a person.

Wonwoo is a creature of the shadows.

Wonwoo is… a vampire.

Unlike most of his kind, his origin story is vastly different. With Royal blood coursing through his veins, he was conceived by the King and Queen and was birthed into this world, the first of his kind.

Not one to usually care about his status or the politics of it all, Wonwoo mostly keeps to himself, locking himself in either his room or the castle library. He spends his time reading up on his ancestors and the history of the other creatures that inhabit his world. Every single creature fascinates him, but not as much as humans do. So, he spends his sleepless days and sleepless nights learning about them.

Being around for centuries, the Queen worries that he’ll never be able to find his ‘blood singer’ if he keeps his nose buried in books. So, as a doting mother does, the Queen constantly sends him multiple women — human women at that — to see if any of them will turn out to be the Crown Prince’s soulmate.

Wonwoo will never admit it to his mother, but he hates it when she does this with a passion. It is true that he is centuries old and without a heart, but he is a fool who believes in the notion of love. Lucky enough to witness it with the King and Queen, he wishes the same for himself.

And lucky he is, because he then meets you.

At least he thought he was.

Meeting you was a complete accident — or maybe it was fate.

Wonwoo was hiking, a few hundred miles away from the castle, and stopped by the river to rest when an enticing scent wafted through the air, almost knocking him off of his feet. Staggering to the nearest tree, Wonwoo clung on for dear life — almost snapping the whole tree in half. Curiosity got the best of him and he continued to inhale the delectable scent, allowing it to overwhelm his senses.

The feeling was foreign to him and as someone who had never met their soulmate before and never understood the concept of it, he was left completely unaware of the predicament that he and his soulmate was in. With the threat and consequences far from his mind, Wonwoo followed the trail of the scent until he ended up outside a cafe, another hundred miles in the opposite direction of the river. When he finally regained a bit of his senses back, he quickly looked around to try and find his bearings and it dawned on him that he was somewhere he had never been before.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew by and it was almost like everything was happening in slow motion. Wonwoo felt the hairs on his skin rise and saw his own breath in front of him and that was when he finally understood that something was horribly wrong. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned to see the cafe door slowly opening.

Before he knew it, the scent that assaulted his senses had returned tenfold. The smell was so intoxicating and it consumed him, rendering him temporarily immobile and without control of his own self. It wasn’t until the door fully opened, that he was finally able to move — and almost wished he hadn’t.

By the door you stood, looking dangerously inviting and Wonwoo almost lost it. You tilted your head in confusion as you spotted him and when your innocent doe eyes bore into his crimson ones, it all started to make sense.

With his incredible speed, he was standing in front of you in a blink of an eye and was barely able to stop himself short of the door. In horror, Wonwoo felt his cuspids slowly become elongated when he caught sight of your neck. He could almost taste your blood on his tongue and he realised that he was getting closer and closer to doing something unthinkable. Something unforgivable.

Like you were put on this world to test him, you spoke and he swore he would have ravished you already if it wasn’t for the simple fact that you hadn’t invited him in. For once, his vampiric existence and their laws were of use to him. Wonwoo prayed that he remained uninvited.

“Are you okay?” you asked timidly. In this day and age, you had encountered many of his kind, but none of them reacted to you quite the same as he had. Something about him piqued your curiosity, made you unsure of yourself, and you were desperate to find out more.

Wonwoo couldn’t figure out what it was about you that had him behaving that way. Though he was the Crown Prince, he had been around plenty of other humans before as he encountered them during his travels, but no one had affected him the way you had. There was something about you, something that made him want to consume you whole and protect you at the same time.

With all of his strength, he made his choice.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Wonwoo finally spoke, forcing his gaze away from your throat. Determined, he gripped the edges of the doorway hard and started to push himself away from the threshold. “I beg of you, do not permit me entry. Please.”

You gasped, finally understanding what made him so different. He was your soulmate, and while it pained you that you were unable to help him, you agreed with him, knowing that he hadn’t quite understood what was happening yet.

Wonwoo saw the gears in your mind turning but he was surprised when he realised he couldn’t read your mind. Neither could he compel you, which shocked him once more as it dawned on him that you actually listened to him on your own accord. You were such a mystery to him and he grew even more curious, but he didn’t want to satisfy that curiosity now. Not when he would be putting you in danger.

“Forgive me, but I need you to do one last thing for me,” Wonwoo pleaded urgently. He felt his strength leaving him the longer he was in your presence. “I need you to ask me to leave.”

“I can’t—”

“You must!” he begged you.

“I don’t even know your name. I—”

“You won’t get the chance to know anything about me if you don’t ask me to leave right now,” Wonwoo beseeched you. “Please, ask me to leave.”

You saw how much pain he was in and how difficult his position was. So, you ignored your shattered heart and nodded, speaking the words he needed you to speak. “I want you to leave. You are not welcome here.” 

In an instant, it was like a burden was lifted off of his shoulders. Wonwoo threw you a regretful smile, took one last look at you and etched you in his memory then turned to run.

As far away from you as he could. 

A stray tear slid down your cheek as you wondered if you would ever see him again and what it would mean if you did. 

He was your soulmate.

He was a creature of the shadows.

He was a vampire.

Why was fate so cruel?

© darlingvernon

pls do not copy/repost my work

[brzatto]

Hello again! Since I started watching season 2 of the bear I've been building up some thoughts regarding the overarching plot and characterisation. I haven't been able to share my ramblings with anyone else, so I hope it's ok to share them with you. It's been a while since I've been this disappointed by the direction a show has taken. :(

I mentioned before on one of your posts that I saw Carmy as asexual, or at least not seeking a physical or romantic relationship with women. In season 1 I was so happy that Sydney was kept as a colleague/friend, which carries into season 2. I was legitimately hopeful to get just one show where the main character doesn't have a contrived romance storyline. I feel they always just derail the main plot for meaningless character interactions with terrible dialogue, with male and female characters never being allowed to just be friends. When Claire was introduced I audibly GROANED. Manic pixie dream girl has entered the chat.

The scene in episode 6 where Richie and Mikey are saying how in love Carmy is with Claire, how amazing she is, how hot she is—it felt like they were trying to convince me and not Carmy. You and others have said before how Claire just exists to be a love interest, and every scene with her does nothing except try (desperately) to solidify that. I feel like I'm being repeatedly beaten with a bat that has "Claire is nice so you should like her" written on it. The scene where Richie is legitimately upset that he messed up the generator and is worried Carmy will dismiss him—why was Claire laughing at that? I thought she was meant to be nice? That's what every character keeps telling me... Every scene with her drags, every character that mentions her name suddenly causes the scene to shift to focusing on Claire. It's like Claire is the centre of the universe and is pulling in and crushing everything with her gravitational pull.

When Carmy kissed Claire in episode 5 it made me lose hope for his characterisation. It was like I was instead watching JAW's character from Shameless. All nuance thrown out the window for a rushed relationship with no chemistry. His journey to heal from his traumas and come to terms with Mikey's death sidelined to make way for boring shot reverse shot talking scenes with Claire. Carmy doing restaurant business? Nah, let's watch him and Claire have some boring dialogue during a car journey.

Hater mode activated: Claire as a character is boring, shallow, and only added because "hur dur boy must like girl". Despite what her character was supposedly introduced for, I think her introduction just caused season 2 to waste time on meaningless fluff that actively made other characters worse by association.

I have 3 episodes left to watch but I'm feeling pretty low about this season. I shouldn't have expected an asexual main character because I just set myself up for disappointment, but the bear really had me thinking it wouldn't do something this lame. I'm still carmrichie for life though, your fics are keeping me hanging on. Sorry for such a long and depressing ramble in your inbox. ❤️

P.S. The scene with Richie and Mikey confronting Carmy in episode 6 really gave me vibes of Carmy being closeted and feeling pressured about his friendship with a girl (similar to what you previously said about the monologue in s1e8). I also got vibes of Richie trying to hide his own insecurities with women by being vulgar in this scene.

hi! <3

if i’m being honest i agree about everything :/ and i hate saying that this show’s disappointed me because all of my friends know just how much this show means to me and the steel grip it’s had on my brain for the past year since the first season first came out… i feel like i’m partially the problem because my expectations were probably too high + the shift between s1 and s2 was very drastic and i’m honestly not a huge fan of change either. i’m not sure exactly what i expected from s2 but the demo and remodeling of the beef felt very rushed to me… like the restaurant was undergoing very significant changes but all of that felt like it was put on the backburner in favor of focusing on the characters. and obviously a show will focus more on individual character storylines than settings (and i actually did really enjoy some of the growth we got for our side characters, sydney marcus tina and richie’s episodes were all amazing and i loved that sugar’s presence was much more prominent this season) but like you said the claire plotline with carmy felt very out of place and ooc… it just felt extremely weird for carmy’s character to make this jump from s1 where we see all the emotional trauma he still suffers from being so attached to mikey, how he uses the beef as a distraction for his grief but obviously those two things are deeply intertwined for him and by obsessing over the beef day and night carmy still remains entrenched in mikey by extension—there’s still so much about carmy’s trauma in relation to mikey that’s been left unaddressed and imo he still largely lacks closure and i was expecting that to be fleshed out properly in s2 but instead he spent all of it being infatuated with a girl we were introduced to for the very first time this season.

can i say something actually. ik the creators and both jaw and ayo have all said that there won’t be any romance between carmy and sydney but i feel like they actually will be endgame and the creators are just trying to throw fans off so they won’t expect it LMAO or at the very least the way the writers have set up the storyline leaves it open as an option if they do change their minds and decide to go that route eventually. i’ve said before that i don’t ship them but i think there is a genuine and undeniable bond between carmy and sydney, although i enjoy their relationship platonically their dynamic and relationship has waaayy more depth than whatever carmy and claire are supposed to have going on… and i hate disliking female characters for being bland and stale because 9 times out of 10 it’s never their fault that they’re written that way, but seeing how realistic, grounded and likable our other female characters are (sydney, natalie, tina) it feels like there’s less of an excuse for her to be that way. she feels like a generic self insert pulled out of a x reader fanfic 😭 i immediately got the romantic vibe from her and carmy even from the season trailer but seeing what we’ve been told about carmy’s character i was sincerely hoping that i was misinterpreting it and she was just his cousin or something lmfsodoajaoaj and it felt so cheap and tacky for them to pull the “actually she’s his estranged childhood friend and he’s always had a crush on her!” card in e6. i also agree with what you said about that conversation sounding like carmy being closeted while richie and mikey tease him… also was kind of put off by the way they were talking about her tbh especially considering the fact she’s supposed to be carmy’s age and we know they’re both significantly older? i’ve also actually never considered interpreting it as richie overcompensating in that scene since he was still with tiff at the time (who i actually loved… i have my beef with carmy and claire but i would stand by tiff and richie until the end of time actually) but now that you mention it i think that makes sense too… much to think about

i can’t remember if i’ve said this before in another post but i also really disliked how love triangley they framed all of sydney’s interactions with carmy in relation to claire… i understood the purpose of other characters instilling this seed of doubt in her about her partnership with carmy and whether or not she was capable of trusting him, really trusting him, but i feel like there were multiple moments of unnecessary tension between the three of them and like you said, i’m so tired of contrived romance subplots in shows where there’s a female and male lead. i love carmy and sydney as individual characters but the possibility of their relationship being romantic just genuinely does not compute with me in my brain… that being said though it genuinely was very wild to me that everyone involved in the show made it clear on multiple occasions that there was no intention of sydney and carmy’s relationship going in that direction, just for them to introduce some random white girl this season just to give carmy a love interest. like? this season was longer than the first one and they still weren’t able to flesh out carmy and claire’s relationship and dynamic the way they did with him and sydney in s1, they felt so incredibly rushed and it was ABSURD to me when carmy openly admitted to liking and even loving her because those are things that feel like they should be so monumental for someone like him, who is supposed to be emotionally traumatized and romantically inexperienced—it was honestly strange to me hearing him tell even richie that he loved him and you know how i feel about them so. anyways you pretty much summed up my feelings towards claire and her plotline perfectly, and i genuinely wish that weren’t the case but i feel like that plays a part in why i find myself so incapable of rewatching this season t_t and i know objectively the point of the plotline was to show that carmy actually isn’t at a place in his life where he’s capable of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship/balancing it with his work but it still just felt strange to derail from the whole grief theme/mikey plotline for that when i was expecting them to delve even deeper into that this season instead.

i’m assuming you’ve finished the season since sending me this—just in case you haven’t i’ll refrain from talking about anything else that might spoil you but i will say that the one thing they absolutely did correct this season was e7. i’ve been dying for a richie centric episode and that gave me everything i could’ve asked for, it was so so gratifying seeing richie find his niche like that and i’m so excited to see what else the series has in store for him. this season wasn’t all bad but i was admittedly disappointed by a few things—nevertheless all that being said i did actually genuinely enjoy how the season ended and where it left off; that felt a lot more like s1 to me and i’m eager to see how they’ll pick things back up between carmy and richie specifically next season… hopefully s2 is just a product of middle child syndrome and s3 will blow us out of the water

[menalez]

I'm a Brit and watching from the sidelines in horror at the US prospect of picking between two genocide maintainers, anti migration, racist, rich men both with a past of violence to women (structurally and interpersonally) who operationally both function to maintain and expand American imperial interests.

Then I look at my own country and we have two parties. One- creates poverty from neoliberal and right economic policies. They massage a wealth divide. They notoriously glass cliff woman and racial minority politicians, supports genocide and actively wishes to continue falsifying its imperial legacy and shirks their geopolitical role in creating immigration issues and pursuing inflammatory rhetoric that centralises hegemonic interests.

My other choice is another party who is saying this is all bad, let's get the tories out! Then use fluffy language to try to differentiate the way they aim to maintain the structures and factors that allow for all the strife we face but with no critical analysis of how we ended up in the situation. They want the same socioeconomic systems, want to also kick you in the face but with a softer boot.

I also have to play tactical voting so I'd vote green party as they align most to my economic and environmental interests and best choice for refugees, but on social issues like gender, royals, military they're still not far enough left. But England's crappy overton window this is a minority position. If I was still in my uni consistency I'd be voting green (interesting how they call it when students are home 🙃) but last election was a shit show minority seat and we've had a wanker tory MP who I badly want to vote out. This guy is bottom of the barrel, his alternate labour candidate is very much hearts and minds liberal wash but he is the only other opponent who can unseat him.

But I fucking hate Sir Keir Starmer, affectionately named Keith Starmer, Kiddy Starver, who loves racist criminal systems, won't take a firm stand on safe refugee routes and people are drowning, loves capitalism and cap doffing. I also despise the labour party and the whole British political system and its culture wars.

We all love scoffing at America but here we have the same issues, they just have a different polish.

Sorry for the blog, love your content! You make me a better feminist

the UK does operate similarly in the sense that the two parties that are typically in power are either labour or tories. but honestly i don’t think it’s AS bad in the sense that at least tories & labour do have some visible differences. meanwhile the differences between democrats & republicans at this point seem to mainly be how they present themselves, bc in practice they’re pretty much aligned on most fronts.

personally i think the UK’s system is more hopeful bc in general i do feel like there is less corruption and more fairness in the system but also i havent seen labour in power for an extremely long time (when i googled it, it seems the last time there was a labour PM was early 2010…) and UKIP grew in power + the UK seriously shot themselves in the foot with brexit + tories have been effectively making the UK worse. so perhaps that’s just naïveté on my part. but at least from what i’ve seen, the same hopeless mindset americans have doesn’t seem to persist among the brits… then again maybe the brits are seeing their govt thru rose-coloured glasses as u have stated so,, maybe that’s why.

idk much about the stuff u mentioned on labour not being particularly good tho. i know they also put in policies that were bad for working class ppl, but idk much else beyond that. also i know they’re frequently accused of being antisemitic tho i’m unsure how true that is

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm sick (or something, I'm in pain but that just happens sometimes so who knows), so I'm already not feeling great. then our neighbour just knocked on our door and proceeded to yell at my husband because he didn't clean some windows well enough in her opinion (they're in the basement room where all the washing machines are). I know he sometimes isn't very thorough when he cleans things but there's honestly no way he cleaned those damn windows that badly. she implied he only cleaned one side but that's very unlikely. like, he knows she's like this, why would he risk that?

he cleaned them two days ago, maybe they're just dirty again? or maybe, just maybe, some fucking windows not being quite clean enough for your liking is not a reason to scream at someone?! maybe there's a way to say that without being an asshole about it?? it's the first time he didn't do it well enough apparently, so like?? just fucking SAY it?

[xpeachesncream]

bands | thirteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.9k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, slight degradation, trouble stirring behind the scenes if you squint, yeonjun and soobin (txt) make an appearance but also as reg 18 yr olds lol

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme​ @min-nicoleee​ @eggbutnotyolk​ @ra-mun-e @miinoongi​ @jimidol​ @ppeachyttae​ @thebeebi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @kooafraid​ @liriaus​ @thisartemisnevermisses​ @ggukkieland​ @preciouschimine​ @sunniejinnie​ @cypheruby​ @cyb3rbab3​ @masterlists101​ @awhnamjoon​ @redhedhoseok​ @wooya1224​ @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos​ @un2-verse​ @aynsx​ @wearenot7withu​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"BTS' Jeon Jungkook rumored to be dating stripper from nightclub!"

"Jungkook is no longer single, ladies!"

"Jeon Jungkook is dating a stripper? Why the hell is he doing that?"

"Who the hell does she think she is? I bet she's not even pretty."

"Jungkook fell for a stripper? Out of all people? Damn, and I thought he was better than that."

Jungkook has been tired, the rumors constantly being spread day in and day out. But, it still didn't mean he was gonna say shit to prove himself to people out there. He didn't need to give anybody answers. Hell, this was strictly between you and him and that's how he wants to keep it.

Fuck every single one of you who didn't wanna be behind him and support him. Don't even think about calling yourself a fan of his if that's your mindset.

He could truly care less. He was happy and he felt ten times better than he has in a really long time. It's unfortunate how people love to stay narrow minded. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that it was so unfair for you - how they stuck to that stripper image, rather than really getting to know you beneath the surface.

But it's not like anyone else deserved to know the real you, not after all this shit. And he was gonna keep it that way, and protect you.

"Hey, don't listen to any of that shit, okay?" Jungkook says as he meets you in your car in the BigHit building garage. "None of that matters to me."

"I know, but Kook." You look at him. "Your career, BigHit literally might not even want me here and-and—"

"Then I'll make sure they understand it's not an issue, because it's really fucking not." He says, getting irritated only at the thought of the company giving him issues over you. He watches as you slightly frown, causing him to sigh and soften his own facial expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get worked up like that. It's just annoying how people are narrow-minded. This has absolutely nothing to do with you." You give him a small smile. "Come on, I'll walk you." You silently nod and hop out of your car. You follow beside him, your stomach in knots having to meet with their performance director. This meant you'd also most likely run into the rest of Bangtan.

In which happens to turn true pretty quickly.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok says loudly down the hallway as he approaches the both of you. He does nothing besides smile, curiosity definitely filling his eyes.

"This is Y/N. Y/N, Hoseok hyung." He holds out his hand for you to shake, his head tilting ever so slightly because you know he's familiar with your face. He's just trying to remember from where. Or, he has recognized you, but he's trying his hardest not to say anything.

Cause they have seen all of you, especially in that fishnet bodysuit.

"Hi! Nice to meet you! You can call me Hobi for short. Are you meeting with someone?" You nod.

"Yeah." Is all you can reply with as you shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Nice, goodluck!"

"Is everyone else here?" Jungkook asks, making Hobi nod.

"Yeah, but they're still running through some stuff in the dance studio. I just ran off to take a break."

"Okay." Jungkook looks at you. "Follow me, he's in one of the private studio rooms." You both part ways from Hoseok, the need to clutch onto Jungkook's arm immensely strong right now. You hold yourself off though, because even with passing a few female staff members, you catch them looking at you oddly with the way you're walking side by side with Jungkook.

Nope. Don't even think about it, Y/N. It doesn't matter.

Jungkook knocks softly on a door, the middle of it being made up of entirely frosted glass so it's difficult to see inside. Their performance director opens the door swiftly and welcomes you in with a warm smile, stepping aside to let you in.

"I've got it from here, Jungkookie. Thank you." Jungkook nods but tries to peek through the door to get one last glimpse of your face before he shuts it fully. "How are you doing, Y/N?" He sits in front of you, leaning onto his knees with his hands fully clasped together.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Good, tired." He chuckles. "Thanks for taking my call earlier and for meeting at such short notice on a weekend. I had a couple of things come up and didn't want to push things off until later." You smile.

"It's no problem."

"Jungkook tells me a lot about you."

"Does he now?" You chuckle and tilt your head to the side.

"Says you're a really good person. Super hardworking. Told me a little bit about your situation with your brother."

"Mmyeah, it's a little complicated."

"It's alright, no need to get into the details." He smiles before letting out a small sigh. "It's incredibly rare for me to hear Jungkook speak like that. In general. He's usually very closed off, doesn't like to let people in much. He really respects you, you know? Cares about you a whole lot." You slightly blush.

"I'm still getting used to it." He chuckled.

"Look, I know you've been worrying because of where you've been and all that, but I want to reassure you that none of it matters. I don't like to focus on all that. You're here as you, not her." He says, putting another pronoun to your stripper persona.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." He nods. There's a small pause before he begins to speak again.

"I could really use some help around here if you're still interested? The boys are becoming a lot for me to handle."

"Ah-uh, yeah! Of course I am." You found yourself stuttering at the sudden offer. Was this fucking real?! "But, you are aware of where me and Jungkook are at, right?" You ask, trying to be completely transparent and honest about their relationship. He nods and waves his hand out.

"As long as you keep it professional here, right?" You nod.

"Right."

"Come, let me show you around really quickly and have you formally meet the boys." You swallowed the lump in your throat. Fucking great. He definitely didn't know they've all seen your titties and pussy out during Yoongi's birthday, and now here you were - about to meet them again in this environment. Hobi was awkward enough even though he tried not to be.

Surprisingly, Jungkook wasn't waiting outside in the hallway like you thought he would be, but the tour commences and the PD is taking you around pretty quickly. You feel even more awkward and somewhat alone [even though you weren't] without Jungkook nearby, but you chug along and say your hello's to the people you're introduced to. He finally brings you into the dance studio, where there's loud ass music blasting, Jungkook, the boys and some backup dancers in front of the mirrors fooling around.

"Aye boys, come here real quick." You and Jimin lock eyes and your body suddenly gets tense. The room feels 10x hotter than it already is, especially when he slowly walks over and clenches his jaw. He is literally seeping with hate right now, maybe actually disgust, and he doesn't even try to hide it. Most of them for sure recognize you, but they seem to brush it off and give you a big wave/smile anyway.

"Last, that's Jimin - Jimin, Y/N." You give Jimin a fake smile, and the only thing his ass can reciprocate is the smallest, tight-lipped smile you have ever seen. You've never even seen your mom do that when she got mad or upset with you.

"Hi." Is all you can say.

"Sup." He looks at you before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Ooookay?" Namjoon furrows his brows as he watches Jimin walk away so rudely. "The hell was that about?"

"I knew that was Kookie's girlfriend! Maybe Jiminie remembers seeing her titties and shit too, needs to walk away before he gets his ass beat by him." Yoongi says lowly behind Namjoon.

"Yeah, like you're any better." Namjoon says, looking at Yoongi weirdly.

"I mean, we did see her practically naked." Jin says, chiming into the discussion.

"I touched her." Yoongi's mouth slightly hangs down. "I touched her."

"Go ahead, say it louder so Kookie can hear you." Jin nods sarcastically. "Go, say it!"

"No, stop." Yoongi's cheeks turn red while shaking his head and laughing. "He'll literally launch me out the window with one hand."

"Good."

"You asked for her to sit on your lap too, bro!"

"I was joking, and it's not like she did it anyway!"

"Whatever, I'm keeping my birthday deep in my memory storage."

"Clean slate for her so it should be for you too, my guy." Namjoon says as he has enough of their conversation.

You look at Jungkook who is silently standing there, looking like a big dork with a huge smile on his face and his thumbs up. You give him the tiniest nod before proceeding to follow the PD out.

"So?!" Jungkook dashes to meet you in their waiting room area, where an abnormally large picture of Jimin posing oddly hung up.

"He said he'll send me all the info and papers and stuff!" You respond excitedly as Kook hugs you and quickly swings you around.

"See, I knew it would work out!" He puts you down. "Are you gonna tell Kai?" You shook your head.

"Not today at least, it's his birthday and I don't wanna take away from that. It's his day." Jungkook smiles at you.

"Text me when you've picked him up? I should be home by then."

"Okay." You blush and back away, making Jungkook look at you with confusion. "I have to keep it professional here, duh."

"Ah I see." He chuckles. "That won't last very long."

"Jungkook." You whine.

"There's a lot of private rooms here and—"

"I'm not listening, sorry. I think Kai is suddenly calling me." You cover your ears as you begin to walk away, giving him one last smile before leaving him to the rest of rehearsals and whatever else they're doing. He laughs to himself as he waves you off, excited to get through the day so he can just spend time with you and Kai.

As the hours go on and it's about time for you to pick Kai up, you quickly stop by the store because you're a procrastinator and didn't buy Kai's birthday gift any earlier. You felt bad you weren't able to find the shoes he wanted, but you at least snagged the video game he had been talking about for a couple of days now. Before walking into the arcade, you made sure to write your birthday card and slip some more money into it before shoving it in your bag to give to him later.

"Your pretty sister is here." Yeonjun grabs Kai by the shoulder as he finishes up a game.

"Yeah, and you're too young for her."

"Age is nothing but a number. It's only like.. 6 years apart."

"Besides, she's taken, dude. Sorry." Kai snorts as he watches Yeonjun's smile fade. "You would have never had the chance."

"You're mean."

"I'm mean, or you just have really high, unrealistic expectations?" The rest of their friends laugh as they follow Kai over to you.

"Hey!" You smile at all his friends.

"Hiiiiii Y/N." They all say in unison, some waving in awe, while the others shyly dug their hands into their pockets. "Birthday boy, you all good to go? Got some good Loco Moco waiting for you."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Happy birthday again, Kai! Get online later!" Soobin yells out.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, waving them off as he follows you out to your car.

"You guys run through the entire arcade?" Kai laughs.

"Pretty much." He sinks into his seat, legs damn near touching the glove compartment with how long he is. "I'm honestly so excited for Loco Moco. It's been years!"

"It has not been that long." You laughed.

"You're right, it's been months." Kai looks out the window. "Wait, you're passing the road to get to our go-to shop though?"

"Cause I found a better place."

"How is there a better place when that one was already supreme?!"

"Hey, trust me on this okay?" You laugh. Kai starts telling you about his day and how so many people he knew from school had been messaging him happy birthday. He truly looked his happiest today and it was all you could ask for. Though at the same time, your heart slightly sank at the fact that he'd be going off to uni soon and staying at the dorms. He was just growing up way too fast, and you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him now before he was too occupied being a college boy.

You slipped yourself past Jungkook's security, parking in the one guest spot they have in the garage that's closest to the elevator. Kai doesn't really question it and hops out anyway, his hands in his pockets as he follows you into the elevator and onto Jungkook's floor.

"You ready, kid?"

"Is this some like, Michelin Star Loco Moco restaurant?"

"Ah, I guess you could say that." You knocked on the door, hearing music playing in the background. Jungkook opens the door and Kai's eyes widen.

"Oh shit, that's Jungkook?" Kook laughs and steps aside to let you both in. "Sis why—what—how come you didn't tell me we were seeing your boyfriend? I look like a mess!" He says lowly.

"You don't!"

"Hey Kai! Happy Birthday!" Jungkook says smiling, making Kai actually blush. He's cheeks are tinted with a rosy color and he suddenly gets all shy.

"Thanks."

"Your brother's tall." Jungkook looks at him up and down.

"Looking at an 18 year old 6 footer."

"Must be nice."

"Go sit." Kai silently nods as he sits awkwardly on Kook's couch, while you go and check in on him in the kitchen.

"Is he always that shy?"

"No. Just with you, apparently. He's not even that shy around girls." You chuckle as he places a quick kiss on your head. "Need my help?" You still ask even though the plates are neatly prepared already.

"Not really." He smiles down at you. "You hungry though?"

"Starving, actually." Your eyes light up at the plates. "Ouuuuuu, yum."

"Honestly, I think this batch might be better than my first."

"Still honored to be your guinea pig." You carry a plate over to Jungkook's coffee table in the living room.

"Oh shit, that looks amazing." Kai says, slipping himself down from the couch to the floor so he could get a good whiff of the plate. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook hands you the remote before walking into his room. "Pick something."

"Here, birthday boy. Help me choose."

"Let's watch Soul on Disney+." At this point, Jungkook comes out of his room with a wrapped present, his eyes locked on the TV.

"Ooh, I keep seeing this everywhere! Niceeeee." Jungkook says, smiling with Kai nodding and already digging into his plate. "By the way, this is for you." You shoot him a look as he sits on the floor by you, watching as Kai unwraps the present. Kai's eyes light up as he sees a shoebox underneath the wrapping, quickly flipping the lid open to reveal those blue Air Jordans he wanted.

"Kook?!" You say lowly, making him smile at you and gently pinch your side.

"Holy shit!" He holds out a shoe, only for him to immediately shake his head and close the box again. "Jungkook, I can't take this." Kai says.

"No, it's your birthday."

"Yeah, but isn't this expensive? You've already done so much for me and my sister, I-I don't want to—"

"Kai, it's cool. If it's one thing you can do to repay me, it's to take my present." You literally want to cry at how sweet Jungkook is being with your brother. He had been good to you, no doubt, but this was one thing you didn't expect from him at all. Quite frankly, you had forgotten you mentioned the shoes to him. The fact that he actually remembered and kept his word.

"Okay." Kai says, gently setting the box down aside before looking at Jungkook with a small smile on his face. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. Like, even with the food and everything. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome." You give him a soft smile before digging into your food while Soul was already off to a start. Kai and Jungkook devour their food together, with you following shortly behind as Jungkook brings over a small ice cream cake from his fridge for Kai to blow his candles on. After the boys had helped themselves to a good serving of the cake, they started getting hyper and pulled up Smash Bros on Kook's Nintendo Switch [as if Kai hadn't played enough games today]. It started to get intense; the boys jumping and yelling everywhere, bouncing off of the walls, with you getting pulled into the competition every now and then. Even though you knew you'd lost over and over again, you happily joined in anyway, seeing how excited your brother was - plus, it was always a bonus to hear Jungkook's loudly obnoxious, nerdy laugh.

"I WIN!"

"Hey, hey, hey. I let you win because it's your birthday." Jungkook said, making Kai laugh as he crashed to the floor.

"Sure." Kai huffed and puffed. "Crap, I'm tired. What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. We should start heading out, bubba." You patted Kai's chest gently.

"What? No, it's late. Why don't you two just stay here?" You suddenly remembered you've had Kai's shit in your trunk since you dropped him off at Yeonjun's this morning. You didn't have any change of clothes, but that could easily be fixed with Jungkook's closet.

"Only if the queen wants, she's driving."

"It's late, baby." Jungkook says to you softly. "No way I'm letting you two head out there."

"Okay." You give him a small smile before handing your keys. "Can you do me a favor?" He chuckles.

"What is it?"

"Kai's duffle bag is in my trunk." He nods and takes your keys.

"I got it. Kai, you can take the guest room or my office room." Jungkook says with his 3-bedroom apartment having ass. "I have my computer in my office room though, and a pull out bed. I don't know how comfy you'll be."

"It's cool, I'll just take your guest room. I always bring my laptop and switch whenever I sleep at my sister's." Kai says getting up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jungkook says, toothlessly smiling at the both of you, completely endeared at how alike you two were - even down to the fact that you both said thank you for every little thing. If this was a result of Kai being close to you and having you as pretty much his mother figure, then Jungkook wouldn't know what to do with his feelings. He felt butterflies every time he thought about how cute and sweet you were, and he was always excited to be around you.

Jungkook does a quick jog to your car, grabbing Kai's Nike duffle from your trunk before jogging back to the elevator and back to his apartment. He walks in to see Kai helping you clean up the remaining dishes in the sink, tidying the rest of the things in his kitchen.

"Thank you." Jungkook says himself, a little unfamiliar with saying such a thing to be completely honest.

"You're welcome." You say softly, wiping your hands on his hand towel. "Off to bed, or are you gonna go online with your friends?"

"I'll see what they're up to, but I'm pretty beat. Today was fun." Kai smiles at the both of you. "I really appreciate it." You ruffle his hair a bit before gently pushing him towards his bedroom for the night.

"Bathroom's right over there, help yourself to anything you need."

"Don't stay up too late."

"Only if you aren't too loud." You gasp while Jungkook laughs out loud.

"Kai!"

"Hey, I'm just being honest. Please remember that I'm right in this room."

"Oh my god, go to bed." You shove him inside the room and shut his door. "Don't even say a word." You look at Jungkook shyly as you hurriedly brush past him to get into his room - even though Jungkook is literally right behind you with those long ass legs of his, making every stride so much easier for him to catch up to you.

"What's your outfit of choice tonight, pretty lady?" He shuts his door behind him as you start to make your way into his closet.

"Hm, I'll just wear this plain black--" You unfold it. "Balenciaga? Okay, I definitely can't just wear this to sleep."

"Why not?"

"Because this is like, name brand and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "Just wear it, babygirl. It's not gonna make much of a difference, you're wearing it either way." You do a slight pout before you start to slip out of your clothes to get into his shirt. You make his way to his bathroom to take a little tinkle when you notice another toothbrush sitting next to his. A pink toothbrush, next to his blue one.

"Why do you have two toothbrushes?" You wash your hands as he comes in to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed.

"That's yours." Your eyes light up at his statement.

"Mine?"

"I figured since you'd be over more, it'd be easier for you." He furrows his brows lightly. "Unless.. you didn't want--" You press a kiss against his lips, his hands resting on your arms to keep you close.

"No, I did want that. Thank you."

"Of course, baby." He pecks your forehead.

"By the way, way to make me look like such a bad sister!" You say as you start getting your toothbrush ready.

"Why? The shoes?"

"The shoes, the Loco Moco, the games, the ice cream cake." You laughed. "I literally got him a video game and some money."

"I mean, he is turning 18. I wanted to help make it as memorable as possible."

"I appreciate you a lot. Really."

"I appreciate you too." Your eyes widen as you brush your teeth.

"Waaaaow, say thaht wun mohr tiyme." You say, pulling a Jungkook while brushing your teeth.

"Eye apprushiate yoh toh." You giggle. The both of you finish getting ready for bed before slipping into his warm sheets. Jungkook never goes to sleep early, however, he makes sure all the lights are off and that the show he's watching isn't too loud. You have no idea what's going on in his show, but you lay on his chest to watch for a little bit until you feel yourself getting a little more sleepy. He's holding you close, his hand brushing through your hair softly, causing tingles to ripple through your body.

"Kook."

"Yes, baby?"

"You make me happy." You say sleepily as you hung him tighter. He smiles down at you, your eyes now shut close as you slowly start to drift into a deep sleep. He presses a light kiss against your head, fingers still in your hair.

"You make me happy too, sweetheart."

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi! There are probably no answers for this that aren't simple or obvious like,exercise more! or volunteer but still. Sorry in advance for the long whiny ask.

INFP and autistic (so,like,INFP squared? or is being typed infp a common co-morbidity to autism lol bc I have seen this combination A LOT. anyway not a great mix,would not recommend 0/10) person here. I'm currently not able to work or study. I can't fix that. My country is pretty awful and there is not much hope. I can't fix that either. The internet used to be a window into a different,better,kind of reality,and it's where I could find people who felt and thought the same as me. That was pretty good,actually.

As of summer 2020,that has started changing. It's a bit funny how everyone dumping their issues and loneliness online has made the whole landscape uninhabitable instead of bringing comfort,but,well. Anyway,I keep trying to make accounts to just talk about my interests or to simply feel that I belong somewhere and that I am understood. But then I abandon them because none of my opinions and core values fit in any specific internet persona mold now. There are tribes everywhere and I hate all of them. I can't lie,I don't have the energy to defend so many supposedly contradictory sides of me that aren't even relevant to anyone,and I hate being judged unfairly and being attributed intentions I don't have. Instead of finding my niche,I discover that out of 10 online people I might have connected with,I strongly disagree with all 10 of them on issues I won't budge. I just hate everyone now. And I lost the additional bit of hope I had lol.

I had so many ideas and plans about the content I wanted to make,online. Instead,now when I try to imagine the types of people who have liked or might like my stuff,and the ones who disliked me,they all look the same in my head. I just feel like closing shop and running away. I've lost the desire to share any part of me with others. So the inspiration is gone too and can't even work on anything. There is no imaginary audience I can trust or can confide in.

Irl expressing myself was rarely possible. I don't know what's the most common type here,but most people in my environment were very judgemental idealists acting like 'rational' self-sufficient cynics for some reason(unhealthy FJs I guess?). They hate 'cringe' display of emotions and 'unprofessionalism' in women(men get away with everything)more than they hate actual criminals. I was not able to connect and share ideas even with the people I had a lot of values in common with and who did the type of activism I was interested in. Not gonna lie,that was a huge blow. They were so close but so far,and I could not bridge the distance.

Also there are no good mental health services,mostly because of poverty and corruption. The fucked-up "pull yourself by your bootstraps and stop whining" and "look at you,entitled snowflake wanting special treatment,just endure it like the rest of us!" culture surely doesn't help. This isn't just conservative old men saying this but people from my generation. I wanted an escape from that.

But I just don't know where I can go from here. IRL was bad but I had such hope for existing online,at least. Until a couple months ago,I was still able to imagine people I might be able to resonate with,some day. I actually encountered them a couple of times,and it was everything I needed. But now,inside my head,everyone is disappointing and unreasonable and hateful and not worth it. I can't live like that but I can't live without people either...

Making something I'm proud of and showing it to someone who is not my mom lol is a basic need I can't fulfill now and it's driving me mad. And the problem with autism is that I literally can't do anything if there is not an image of how it might go in my head already. I don't know how to explain,even if my future best friend would be sitting next to me,if I did not have a slot in my head already prepared for that,I would be unable to recognize them. I'm so sorry this got so long.

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

I understand your disappointment and dejection. Feeling out of place isn't a nice feeling for anyone. You can't control other people. You can only improve yourself and your social skills. I see some problems that might impede your ability to socialize well:

1) Hungry for Validation: Do you only engage with people to get validation? Do you only create to get applause? Whether or not you succeed in doing something begins with the intention you set. Start off with the wrong intention and the results will be unexpected. If your intention is really just about using people as objects to feel good about yourself, is it really a surprise when they refuse to be used by you? Would you like to be used and disposed of when you are deemed useless? That's no way to treat people, is it?

2) Hypocrisy: You are pleading for like-minded friends out of one side of your mouth and then bashing "tribe" mentality out of the other side of your mouth. Methinks you are not so dissimilar from the people you condemn, since you are merely seeking your own tribe, just like everyone else?

Having contradictory beliefs means that there's something wrong with your belief system. Being unwilling to examine your own faulty beliefs means that you will never truly understand yourself, let alone others. How, then, are you meant to make real friendships? It seems that your social skills won't improve unless you take a good look at all the ways in which you sabotage relationships all on your own, aside from what other people do. This blog is for self-reflection, not for ranting.

3) Pessimism: Your perspective is too negative. If you are only able to view the world through the lens of your past disappointments, you will not see any hope, because you will only be looking for the "evidence" that confirms and affirms your disappointment. This is how pessimism, helplessness, powerlessness, and resignation get entrenched in the mind.

All people have a mixture of positive and negative qualities. All places have a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant people. When you are pessimistic, it means you only see the negative in everything. Pessimism is one common way that people destroy their own hope and motivation. It is a common sign of Si loop.

4) Judgmental: You decry people being judgmental while being quite judgmental yourself. Your opinions about everyone, including yourself, are quite negative, full of ego and righteousness, and too black-and-white. This will certainly prevent you from making friends. How can you get people to like you when you don't even like yourself? How can you like people when all you ever see is how they don't measure up to your lofty expectations?

What you don't understand is that beliefs =/= identity. People adopt a lot of their beliefs and values without much thought, because it happens unconsciously when they are children. If they are not given the encouragement and opportunity to examine and change their faulty beliefs, why would they? Much of the time, people hold the wrong beliefs out of ignorance rather than malice, yet you treat them as malicious, hate them, and dismiss them as not worth your time. If you don't want people to misjudge you, criticize your "contradictory" beliefs, or judge you for the worst version of you, are you willing to be the first to start choosing a different way?

When you are too judgmental of people, you operate under the assumption that they are irredeemable. Warning: Damn the world, and you will damn yourself too, because you are a part of the world, no matter how much you try to deny it. Empathy is required to see yourself and others as human, redeemable, and worthy of encouragement. You are sorely lacking in empathy and that's something that can be improved upon, if you cared enough to do so. Lack of empathy is a common sign of Te grip.

5) Poor Social Skills: Since you are negative and judgmental, have you considered how that affects the way you interact with people? Nobody deserves to be bullied or trolled. However, there are ways in which you might inadvertently invite people to bully or troll you. For example, if you're unwilling to examine your own faulty beliefs, you unconsciously attract people to criticize them, because deep down, you know that they need correcting. If you're going to dish out moral judgment all the time, then you invite others to give it to you in return. Perhaps you need to think more about how you present yourself to people and what effect it has on how they approach you.

I've written before about how social media isn't a great place to socialize and make friends. In many corners, it is indeed toxic because of the lack of accountability. Social media invites people to be their worst self in order to boost website engagement, and it sounds like you are a victim of that as well. Healthy relationships require responsibility and accountability from both parties. Are you responsible in your dealings with people? Are you accountable for any negative behavior of yours that is harmful to relationships? You say that you were with like-minded people and still couldn't succeed. That should make you suspect that the problem lies with your lack of social skills.

ASD is a legitimate concern. But beware of using it as an excuse. I've known plenty of people on the spectrum who are high functioning, willing and able to learn better social skills. If you are serious about building a better social support network, you'll have to put more effort into improving your social skills. This doesn't guarantee that every relationship will be successful. Having good social skills means that you know how to take full advantage of every opportunity for improving your relations with people. See the relevant tags and book recs on the topic.

[jentrevellan]

I'm so happy to finally share my fic for @dasmutquisition! I had so much fun with this one, it's unreal. I hope you enjoyed @sumiIong

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins

Relationship: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)

Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Teagan Guerrin

Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Making Love, trapped together (sort of), strong woman, anxious Alistair, generic Cousland, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, newlyweds, Morning Sex, D in the V, Porn With Plot, Dorks in Love

Language: English

Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition

Summary: Alistair and the Warden spend the first night not only as husband and wife but as King and Queen.

Notes: Thank you @curiousthimble for being my beta!

Read on Ao3

Doin' the Fondue

The great hall in Denerim Castle was loud and filled to the rafters with people. Nobles, elves, dwarves and peasants alike were squeezed in, all clamouring to see the newly married couple. Up on the dais, overlooking the crowd that was slowly getting rowdier and rowdier with the ale and wine that continued to flow, Alistair - now King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden - slouched in his throne and took a gulp of wine.

He was terrified.

Oh, the ceremony had been a delight, and he had adored proclaiming his love in front of the Maker and the witnesses in the Chantry. But as soon as he had stepped into the hall for their wedding feast, his gut started churning. Because he knew what must come next after the merriment had ended.

He glanced at his wife beside him. His wife! Despite his anxiety, he couldn’t help but grin like a fool at the thought of his Grey Warden companion, Lady Cousland, now being his wife. It didn’t seem wholly real. Indeed, most of his life the past year hadn’t seemed real. So much had changed, and now he was married.

Alistair took another sip of wine from his goblet and his new wife glanced at him, a small frown on her brow. She already knows me so well, he thought. No one else would be able to tell that anything was amiss, but she had always seen straight through him and knew when even the smallest thing was bothering him. One of the many traits he loved about her. Although it did mean that it was impossible to keep any sort of secret from her. Even the good kind of secrets.

As he picked at his food, his new wife and Queen accepted many gracious gifts from guests. All curtsied or bowed and she was most eloquent in her response. Truly, she was more prepared for this life as a monarch than him. Her noble upbringing was a far cry from how he was raised. But wherever his trepidation lay about ruling, he knew that with this woman beside him as his Queen, that he could do anything.

She laughed heartily at a joke Teagan was telling her, and he watched as she wiped away a tear. Alistair glowered at his uncle and reached out for his wife’s hand. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face, her cheeks flushed and her lips rosy from the wine.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

He nodded his head to Teagan. “Just wondering what was so funny…?”

She blushed prettily, and a jealous hand gripped his gut. He would not easily forget his uncle’s flirtations when he had first met them in Redcliffe, and ever since, a fit of strange jealousy and need to claim her as he always came about when he was in the presence of both her and Tegan.

Waving a jewelled hand, she shook her head. “It was nothing. Rather crude, actually, so I told him off for lowering the tone of our conversation at our wedding feast,” she replied, taking a sip of wine. “Now what’s the matter with you?”

“Me?” he repeated. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me at all. Absolutely nought.”

“Alistair,” she said seriously, leaning in close. Her tone made him want to listen, but her golden gown with its tight bodice had pressed her breasts pleasantly together and were well within his eye line that he couldn’t help but glance down. A treacherous blaze of desire coursed through him, and with her puckered lips, her brow furrowed in concern, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and -

A chill went through him. He wanted her, oh yes, most desperately, but Tegan caught his eye and winked, and a shudder of repulsion went through him as he turned his head to see half of the court watching their interaction. He pulled away from his wife abruptly and reached for his goblet of wine, again and took a huge mouthful.

Ever the gracious lady, his wife smiled faintly and pretended that nothing had happened. But the look she quietly gave him as he peered at her over the rim of his goblet made his gut clench with guilt. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he felt rotten about being the cause.

The dinner continued and as the servants were generous with topping up his wine, Alistair kept emptying his goblet. His wife, on the other hand, declined and stuck to watery lemonade and with dread, he realised that she was not drinking the same as him because it was expected that she needed to stay sober to conceive.

It was like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and he struggled to breathe, and it was getting worse as the evening wore on. Soon he stopped eating and drinking and just watched everybody that approached the dais to offer their congratulations or present gifts to the newlyweds. One item that was given to the new Queen was a selection of herbs which, as the kindly elderly noble had explained “would help the womb quicken”. Alistair had almost retched at her words, and instead began a small coughing fit, which required his wife to smack him firmly on the back a few times harder than she would’ve done normally.

At one point, a small child approached, dressed in a simple cotton tunic, as white as a cloud. Her hair was braided down her back and entwined with flowers. She stood before the queen who rose from her throne and leant over the table to adjust a flower in the girl’s hair. Alistair watched as his wife’s face lit up with warmth as she listened and spoke to the child. He wanted to give that to her. But… but…

“Let us bed them!” Tegan suddenly announced, and there was a scramble as the court got to their feet hurriedly, to be one of the select few to follow them to their chambers. The women reached the queen and she shot Alistair one swift look of alarm before resigning herself to their insistent tugs as they all but pushed her out of the room. Alistair followed with a group of noblemen, including his uncle.

“I bet you’re looking forward to this, m'boy,” Tegan grinned, falling into step beside Alistair, as they made their way through the halls of the castle.

“I don't know what you mean,” he replied flatly, his face feeling warm not just from the wine.

Tegan clapped him on the back. “You are one lucky man, my boy,” he said with a sigh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so quiet in all the time I’ve known you. Your mind has been elsewhere this evening - and I’m not the only one to notice.”

Dread tugged at him as he climbed the stairs. “Yes, you’re right and I’m sorry, but-”

“Sorry!” Tegan repeated with a snort. “You’ve no need to be sorry. Most men are as quiet as a mouse in anticipation of their wedding night. And one can’t certainly blame you: your wife is simply lovely.”

“Yes, thank you, Tegan,” Alistair ground out, shrugging his shoulder lose of his grip. But rather than be offended, the man laughed and Alistair clenched his fists. Never before had he been so tempted to knock his uncle around the head.

They arrived at his chamber door and inside more nobles awaited eagerly. The king’s bed had been arranged neatly, but there was no expectation for him to sleep there tonight. Instead, he eyed the connecting door where he knew his wife would be waiting for him, surrounded by the noblewomen.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked, looking around the room, but the men just laughed, and chatted, some making obscene gestures. He grimaced, hating the sheer manliness in the room. His manservant came forward to help him undress from his finery and removed his crown. Once he had been disrobed save for his smalls, he threw on his white cotton nightshirt and ran his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow.

There was a faint knock at the connecting door, and one of the servants hurried forward and exchanged whispers with the servant on the other side. Alistair paced anxiously and took a very keen interest in a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. The men around him were talking about absolute filth, and he squeezed his eye tight shut, in the vain hope that his ears would squeeze shut too.

Finally, the connecting door swung open and the servant stood aside. Alistair was rooted to the spot, fear coursing through him. Are these people… going to watch ? He thought with horror.

He was quite content with where he was until Tegan elbowed him in the ribs. “Nervous?” he said with a wink.

“Yes. No! I mean, no !” he said hurriedly, his face burning.

“There’s nothing to be scared about. She’s going to be a wonderful wife to you in so many ways…”

“Shut up,” Alistair groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. Honestly, he was this close to hurling Tegan out the window.

But before he could entertain that thought further, the men in his room were pressing him through the door and - oh Maker no - were also following him. He entered the queen's bed-chamber to find a gaggle of ladies with rosy cheeks flutter their lashes and lick their lips seductively at the men. But Alistair was anything but aroused when he finally turned to the large, four-poster bed, to see his wife and queen.

She was a perfect painting of innocence and virginity in crisp white sheets with a matching white nightdress. Her hair had been unbound and combed neatly and she sat as still as a statue, her back and posture absolutely perfect for a queen. The covers were pulled up to her lap, and her hands rested delicately entwined: her sparkling wedding ring the only jewellery that remained.

He refused to meet her eyes as he slowly walked around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the covers down amidst the chatting of the court and when he finally sat beside her, a good arms-length away from her, the court finally - finally - turned to leave. Several clapped, the women exchanged knowing looks with the queen, who smiled politely in return, and the men, now incredibly drunk, ambled from the room, wishing Alastair luck and reminding him of how lucky he was.

Finally, blessedly, the last person left the room and closed the door with a gentle click .

☆☆☆☆☆

To the new queen’s dismay, the first thing her new husband did as soon as the door had shut, was leap out of the bed as if he had been scalded. She frowned as he strode towards the door, and for an awful moment, she thought he was going to leave. But no: he reached to a small side table and found a key and locked the big oak door to her chambers, followed by locking the conjoining door from the king’s bedroom.

Still not saying anything, Alistar strode around the room, pulling open curtains and wardrobes, trunks and cabinets.

“What in the world are you doing?” she finally asked, her patience running thin. The man had barely spoken to her since their vows in the Chantry in the morning, and now he was examining every nook and cranny of her chambers?

He paused by her bookshelf and flicked her a glance over his shoulder. “Checking,” he replied, before shifting a few books.

“Whatever for?”

He sighed in exasperation. “To make sure that we are alone! Andraste’s arse, I thought they were going to stay at one point and watch to make sure we… we… erm…” he coughed and busied himself by peering under a chaise lounge.

She got out of bed and dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the bed. Thankfully, there was no one there, but she had to admit that the same fear had crossed her mind. Even though she knew that wasn’t the common practice, sometimes nobility did take things a bit too literally…

“We’re safe,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips.”There’s no spy, no peephole, no nothing but us.”

Alistair finally stopped his fidgeting and turned to her from across the room. For the first time in a long time, they were utterly alone. Normally, they would’ve fallen into each other’s arms by now, but something was stopping her, and she could tell that something was also stopping him. They stood on opposite sides of her room, the bed imposing and glaring at them, whilst the distance between them felt as vast a chasm. And that was something neither of them had experienced before.

“Everything is different now, isn’t it?” she said quietly, looking down at her hands clasped before her.

Alistair also seemed to be studying his fingernails. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

She played with the hem of her pure white night-dress and frowned. Conversation with her now-husband had never been this stilted. So she switched tactic to one he would hopefully relax with: humour.

“You know, for a good ten minutes, I honestly thought they were all going to stay and watch,” she said with a wry smile. She knew they wouldn't - being brought up as a noble lady had earnt her some education in these things - but Alistair needed not to know that. For it worked:

“Maker! You did too?” he exclaimed, letting out a bark of laughter. “I didn’t think they would, but I began to doubt myself.”

She took a step towards him. “Hence your paranoia about spies?”

He nodded. “Yes, hence the… paranoia ,” he rolled his eyes at her choice of words, but there was a smirk on his lips, which made her heart soar.

The man she knew was peeking through, so she took another step closer. “It’s an archaic tradition anyway,” she said. “I know for a fact that they do not practice it in Orlais.”

Alistair snorted. “Perhaps the only redeeming factor of the Orlesians.”

“Hmm, that and the cheese,” she smiled and finally, finally , her new husband met her eyes.

They both burst into laughter and she saw his shoulders sag. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to,” she said earnestly.

His face reddened. “But I do! I do want to! With you, that is! I just… it’s just…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as he sought out the right words.

“The pressure of it all?” she supplied.

“Yes!” he gasped, relieved. “To know that we cannot come together unless it’s for a purpose. That purpose,” he mumbled, pointing to her stomach.

He was going inside himself again, so she took his hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Think of it this way… it’s for the good of the country that you fuck me senseless any time of day and night.”

Alistair spluttered at her bluntness but she just laughed as she slipped her hands from his and moved past him. There was a small table laden with food - to help keep up their energy for their excursions, no doubt - so she helped herself to a goblet of wine and poured one for her new husband. “You’re probably one of the only men in the world who can use that excuse,” she smiled, popping a grape in her mouth.

“You…” he grinned, walking over and taking the other goblet from her hand. “You are a minx.”

She pretended to be shocked. “You’ve only just realised? And here I thought you only married me because you knew I was.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled him to her, kissing the top of her head. “One of many, many many reasons,” he replied.

They stood content in silence, their thoughts elsewhere when she finally spoke again. “I meant what I said. We don’t have to do anything we’re expected to do tonight.”

He gulped but nodded. “I… I know. And I appreciate that, but please don’t think it’s because I don’t want... need you,” he said quietly, his grip on her tightening.

“It’s not like we’ve not done it before,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Even if this gown pretends to be evidence to the contrary.”

“Yes, and we have done it, many, many times…”

“And we will many more,” she confirmed, popping another grape in her mouth, the sweetness washing over her tongue. She turned to him: “but not tonight.”

“Thank the Maker I married you,” he murmured, downing the rest of his wine.

“But I do have a wicked idea…”

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“We should take all of this food and eat it… in bed.”

He laughed, so genuine and delightful that her gut warmed pleasantly. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, his other hand grabbing the cheese board and marched over to the bed. He threw her down, and she tried to not be too aroused by the action, but her pert nipples through her night-dress gave her away. Determined to make sure Alistair was as happy as could be, she reached forward and pulled him onto the bed and instead of kissing him, grabbed a handful of cheese and squashed it into his mouth.

The King of Ferelden snorted with laughter as he tried to eat the cheese, before doing the same back at his new queen. He pecked her on the nose and rose to collect more food and wine, and soon they were sitting leaning against the headboard, a delectable spread of food between them. And they gorged.

☆☆☆☆☆

The sun peered through the lattice windows of the queen’s chamber. The light was white and bright and brought Alistair blinking out of his deep slumber, momentarily confused at his location. He looked up at the canopy above him and duly noted the olive green drapes of the Queen’s bed. He’d never slept in here and was momentarily disoriented until he remembered the day before.

In his arms, still and sound asleep, was his wife. Her hair was splayed on the pillow and tickled his nose. He couldn’t see her face, but today it felt more real: this woman who had become his friend and companion, lover and hero of Ferelden, was now his wife… his queen . He gently propped himself onto his elbow, so as not to wake her, and gazed down at her face, noting the way the sunlight accentuated her high cheekbones. This wonderful, beautiful and exquisite woman is my wife , he thought with quiet awe. His chest flipped with uncontained joy and gone was the trepidation of the night before.

He studied her face as she slept, her nostrils flaring slightly as she sighed contently in her sleep. He lay back down and pulled her close to him, tightening his grip on her, and burying his face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicatingly sweet scent. The silk nightdress was so smooth and thin, and his hands couldn’t help but wander up and down, his fingers gently brushing the material over her skin, like water. Without realising it, he found himself rutting against her arse, which was tucked up cosily to his groin. He tried to still himself, she's still asleep ! But his wandering hands could not be stopped as one slowly crept up her torso and cupped a breast. The shift was so thin, that he felt her nipple harden with the barest of touches and that’s when he realised that her hips were moving too.

He pushed himself up to an elbow again, and her eyes, dark and hooded with desire stared back at him. Her lips parted with a hitched breath and he flicked her nipple with his thumb. Moving his hand downwards, he swallowed her breathy moan as his fingers teased the hem of her smalls, mouth crashing down on hers in simple, uncontained desire.

They had not so much as kissed since they had said their wedding vows in the Chantry, he realised. And as his tongue licked her upper lip, he swore to himself that he would never leave it so long to kiss her again. Her mouth opened with a sigh and their tongues danced as he continued to rut, and she squirmed against him as his hand finally slipped into her smalls in search of her bud.

He stifled a groan as he found her hand already there, gently touching herself. His fingers joined hers whilst they moved their hips and she guided him with her hand. He slipped a digit inside of her and she gasped, squirming against his erection, straining against his smalls, and he pictured feeling her growing wetness around his cock. With impatience, he slid her nightdress up so she was exposed and he pulled his cock out and rubbed it blissfully between her cheeks. Her soft skin was as smooth as silk as he rocked his hips, gaining pleasant friction with her arse.

“More…” she whispered, as her fingers joined his, pumping inside her. And with his control waning, he obliged eagerly.

Alistair rolled her onto her back and pulled her hands over her head as he pinned her down. Her legs fell open for him, and as much as he wanted - no needed - to be inside her, Alistair knew what his lady wife needed more was to be spoiled. If it were up to him, the king would love to stay buried between his wife’s legs for the rest of his days, as her taste was so sweet. He trailed kisses down her neck, and her hips lifted up to meet his, and his resolve almost broke as her core was teased against his cock. But being a Warden had one excellent perk: incomparable stamina.

He continued down, kissing her heaving breasts as they rose and fell erratically with her breathing. Playing with one in his hand, he took her other nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly, her perfect bud hard and round in his mouth. With his hand, he squeezed her other one tight, and had her gasping: but he was nowhere near done. He let go of her breast in his mouth with a pop and glanced up at her to see her mouth open and delicious, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. He grinned and kissed her stomach, then pulled back and positioned himself on his elbows, taking in the sight of her splayed out on the bed, rosy cheeks and breathy moans all for him. He pressed his lips to her knee, then with each kiss, his stubble tickled the inside of her thigh as he moved up her legs, finally reaching that gloriously warm and wet apex in between that was just begging for him to taste.

Desire surged through him and without wasting any more time, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and licked her dripping wet folds. She cried out in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over her, and her fingers grabbed his head, nails digging into his scalp as he worked his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelt, and her hips rose up to meet his mouth, jittering as she climbed higher to her peak. He wanted to spoil her because she deserved it and more. So he reached up with one hand and squeezed a breast and flicked a nipple again, loving the way her hips bucked in response. Her nails dug deeper into his scalp and raked his chestnut hair as his other hand kneaded her arse, lifting her up so he had the best angle to eat her out.

He teased and tortured her with his mouth, and finally sucked on her clit.

“Ah...ah...Alist-ah!” she cried out, her thighs clamping around his head as she came. He tasted her orgasm on his tongue and without missing a beat, rose and positioned himself at her entrance. Her eyes flicked open to look at him as she felt him move, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her exquisite mouth. That was all he needed.

So tormentingly slowly, Alistair finally entered her, the warmth and wetness so indescribably perfect that he couldn’t help but let out a moan. He fit her perfectly and when sheathed completely, he paused and stared into her eyes. Her breathing was still fast from her orgasm and he captured her mouth with his, letting her taste herself. Then he rolled his hips and started to slowly make love to her, not once tearing his gaze from her face. He noticed every single expression that flickered before him as he thrust and teased: a hand on her hip and another once more on her breasts.

She wrapped her legs around him and he plunged unbelievably deeper inside of her, making them gasp and moan in unison as they moved together in a rhythm as old as time. As they moved, the pleasure and pressure mounted, but Alistair had much more control than a boy still wet behind the ears - he wanted to give her so much more before he -

“Ah!” he gasped, as she took him by surprise. She had crossed her ankles behind his back and with her strong legs, twisted so that he was forced to roll and let her sit on top of him. Incredibly, they did not lose touch, and the angle was different but just as pleasurable. She smirked down at him as she pressed her hands to his chest and began to slowly roll her hips, her breasts rising and falling beautifully as she took him. Alistair was entranced as he watched his love move quicker with a growing need and he held her hips tightly to control her pace. But she didn’t need any assistance, as she moved faster and faster, his thrusts coming up to meet hers, flesh slapping flesh. Her moans crescendoed, and the erotic sight before him of his wife move above him with a wonton need to claim her pleasure...well he could feel his control slipping. He wanted to spill himself inside of her, and see his seed drip down her legs…

“Fuck!” she cried, reaching her second orgasm, as Alistair dug his fingers into her thighs to stop himself from joining her peak of pleasure. She fell back and Alistair seized his moment to regain control and topped her again.

Fully sheathed once more, he deliberately moved slowly, as he knew that if he picked up the pace then he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. But she caught his eye and licked her lips.

“Please, Alistair,” she panted, her hands digging into his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Mmmm?” he replied, biting her earlobe and slipping out of her, making her whimper.

“What do you want?” he teased, stroking himself as she looked up at him with uncloaked desire.

“It’s more than what I want ...it’s what I need ,” she whispered, sitting up to meet her lips with his, her hand trailing down his chest and abdomen, making his muscles tense in anticipation.

They kissed delicately, fervently, noses touching, breath mingling. “And what do you need?”

She pulled away and lay back down on the bed, her legs falling open. She traced one finger down the length of her, and his eyes followed.

“Take me, my king,” she begged, touching herself in front of him.

Almost roughly, because he couldn't bear to not be in her again, he flipped her over, brought her to her knees and lined himself up to her entrance. He kissed her salty back, sleek with sweat and breathed in her ear. “As my queen commands.”

He thrusted inside, and she took all of him. She threw her head back and he grabbed her neck, pulling her up to him for a searing kiss, their tongues dancing as he thrusted fiercely, the globe of her ass bouncing against his abdomen. She moaned in his mouth as she touched herself; legs shaking as he pounded into her over and over; sweat mingling, with moans loud and needy, filling the chamber. He pumped with such animalistic need and she cried in pleasure and she gripped the bedsheets for support as he took her, unrelenting in his passion.

With a shaking arm, he reached around and touched her pearl and she cried out, her orgasm sudden and huge.

“Fill me!” she pleaded as she continued to come.

He snapped and finally, wonderfully, he reached his peak too and exploded inside of her, his vision blurred and black at the edges, as he emptied his seed inside of her - for the first time. And Maker, did it feel incredible to finish like this; in a union of bodies so perfect and natural.

Alistair, as breathless as if he had just swam the length of the Waking Sea, collapsed on top of her, laughing with joy.

“I...I love...you,” he panted, their legs entwined and he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began.

They stayed like that for some time, and Alistair was tempted to fall asleep just like this, but she wiggled underneath him.

“Mmmm, as much as I love you inside of me,” she murmured;” you are crushing me somewhat.”

He reluctantly slipped out of her, trailing kisses all down her back and arse, making her hairs stand on end and her toes curl. He gathered her into his arms, the sheets around them a total mess, but he was loath to care as she lightly ran her fingers over him. His limbs felt like jelly, all loose and relaxed.

“Hey, Alistair?”

“Hmm?” he replied, barely opening his eyes.

“There’s some cheese leftover from last night.”

He sat up suddenly and looked over to where she pointed.

“Cheese for breakfast?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Cheese for breakfast,” she confirmed.

fin

[serpenteve]

Lmfao paste magazine did their best shows of 2021 so far and shadow and bone is number 5, I agree with a lot of their opinions usually and frankly the show was pretty decent if you don't think about its logic for more than 20 seconds and it was quite entertaining but top 5 of 2021 material? I highly disagree, the fantasy world which is a big draw and it's political landscape is just window dressing without any actual depth, the plot contrivances are too many to count, the illogical character decisions, the half baked main character ( how is it that she gets the most screentime but is the least developed out of the main characters, why do the crows feel more real and complex than her), the fact that your main female character in your show that revolves around her is so devoid of any depth or growth is a crime in itself. The show has so many problems but I feel like since we barely get any decent high fantasy shows, there were none before GOT and there still aren't more than 5 that have already come out, so people tend to overlook a lot of flaws, also they hilariously did an article about things to improve in S2 and one of them was the villain... Um, that dude was literally the most complex character in S1, the one who's backstory we got, the one whose decisions made sense for the actual goal he's trying to accomplish. I am a simp for female characters and it is so rare for me to latch onto a male one in my shows and I really wanted to love Alina but I felt like they put zero thought into who she is a person and she is instead defined by her relationships and what she represents to the male characters and the world as a whole, I feel like it she was a really strong lamp that was thought to be lost and then found and then someone stole her nothing would change? Like who is this woman? What are her dreams and motives and wants and needs and dislikes, what drives her, what scares her, how does she feel as a part of an oppressed group etc. Having your female character say a generic fake feminist line that makes no sense does not make a well written female character, they should honestly take a look at some other shows although there is still a severe lack in female rep especially poc and LGBTQIA women, there are some shows that are doing it so well and so effortlessly it makes everything else look tragic not just with one female character but with multiple, my favorite example is the expanse which has by s3, 4 main female characters all of them women of color, all of them interesting and vital to the story, one is a savvy political leader that does whatever is necessary but is also a grandmother who says fuck 50 Times a day, one is an extremely talented soldier that goes through an amazing character arc, one is a genius engineer that's part of the oppressed class in this world and she wants better for her people, another one from the same class is a badass second in command that also goes through amazing character development and she's queer, and almost every other important woman in this universe is a poc, mechanics, political rivals, leaders of social unrest, the only important white woman that was there for a season was a gay spiritual leader, like..... Not everything is perfect but I have never seen this level of diversity in a show and it's done so so well, like these women are almost all in my top list of favorite characters every one of them could lead a show on her own and then some. Here are a couple of articles about them if you're interested https://filmschoolrejects(dot)com/the-women-of-the-expanse/?amp and https://marvelousgeeksmedia(dot)com/2021/03/06/womens-history-month-celebrating-the-women-of-the-expanse/?amp. I'm so sorry idk how this turned into an expanse recommendation post 😂, I just see all of us desperate for some well written female characters as I watch sab butcher their most important one and I'm like... Eric and leigh should be forced to watch this before they write another word.

I really wanted to love Alina but I felt like they put zero thought into who she is a person and she is instead defined by her relationships and what she represents to the male characters and the world as a whole

It still surprises me when people watching the show say that Alina is a generic and ill-defined protagonist because she was about 100 times worse in the book 😂Like, it was only watching Jessie's performance that finally breathed some life into that character for me, to be honest. But everything else you've mentioned here 100% tracks with the source material.

Like, arguably the reason Alina gets shipped with literally everyone and gets accused to being a self-insert for fans is because she is so generically written. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed Bardugo intentionally wrote her this way to let fans step into her shoes and give her the largest appeal. Instead, we are left with a character that is incredibly passive. If you thought show!Alina was passive, hoooo boy, book!Alina is barely even a character, especially in the first book. The only thing Alina wants out of life is for Mal to love her and for them both to disappear from the plot---which, considering the conflict Bardugo has put her in, makes her highly unsympathetic and a frustrating protagonist to watch.

I saw the first season of the Expanse which is saying a lot because I pretty much *always* ditch TV shows ☠️I low-key hated Holden because he was such a generic White Man Protagonist™ but the other characters were infinitely more compelling (Chrisjen my beloved)!

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 02 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Open Book

You're checking your hair for the third time on the huge mirror in the main hall. The lilac dress fits you perfectly, of course, since your mother wouldn't allow you to buy anything that didn't look marvelous. Your hair, Amelia's doing, it pinned up on a high bun, a few strands allowed to be free, only to frame your face. But you can't wait to let it all down, to strip out of the dress and put on some normal clothes. The night would be doomed if it wasn't for Billy. Since the almost drowning incident, your father is very thankful, and he's even giving Billy generous tips. And you've been going out of your way to talk to him, offering help, even though he always refuses. And Michael is only allowed here on formal occasions when your father and his have business to discuss, so it means you haven't seen him in the last couple of days.

The bell ring drags you out of your thoughts, and you immediately get nervous. Taking a look at the clock, you notice he's right on time. Rushing to the front door, as fast as your high heels allow, you gesture for the butler to leave it to you, and he nods and walks away. Taking a deep breath, you pull the door open, and a smile comes to your lips straight away. Billy looks amazing, and in this suit, people will be talking for a very different reason. He'll get many stares, you're sure of it. He won't look misplaced, he'll be the center of all attentions.

“You... Clean up real nice.” As you stutter, you notice as he quickly runs his eyes through your body, making you blush.

“You too.” He says with a smile, before tilting his head towards the car. “Should we get going? I'm sure you'd hate to be late.”

“Oh, no. God forbid.” You say, sarcastically, making your way to his car. And what a car. A dark bluish Camaro, if you're not mistaken, which you think suits him perfectly. “Hey, what a machine, huh?” You exclaim as you get into the passenger seat. Billy walks around the car before settling down beside you.

“I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you may drive.” Giving you a glance and a small smile, he speeds away, through the rocky path that leads to the gates.

“Well, my pink Cadillac is not as badass as this baby here.”

“A pink Cadillac? That's girly.”

“I'm a girl if you haven't noticed.” He slows down at the gates, and you kindly waves at the security guard as you move to hit the street.

“I noticed, don't worry.” His Camaro makes a wild noise when he speeds up, flying through the road, so you decide to buckle up.

“Good.” Why does it makes you happy you know he noticed you're a girl? “So, what's her name?” You ask, gesturing at the car when Billy gives you a confused glance.

“She doesn't have one.” Chuckling, he turns his attention back at the road ahead. “But you're right, she should have a name.”

“What are the chances you'll let me chose it?” Moving on your seat a little to turn your body towards him, you bite your lip to see his smile.

“Only if you come up with something really good.”

“Lily.” You burst out.

“Absolutely not.”

“But is my favorite flower and it's beautiful.” Defending yourself, you can't keep the smile from your face.

Billy furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head lightly. “Nope. No way. You're not naming my car Lily.”

Since he seems very focused on the road, you get the chance to look at him. Your eyes run through his face, his cheeks, jawline, lips. His eyes, that you concluded, are the same color as the ocean. You wish you had a good excuse to look at them, just for a while. “Not even if I say please?”

“Not even if you make puppy eyes.”

With a dramatic eye roll, you decide to give up on the matter, for now at least. Half an hour later, you finally get to the hotel where the gala will happen. You advise Billy to park his car three blocks away since it'll be a lot easier to leave after the party is over. Then, you leave the car and walk the rest of the way. The hotel entrance is already crowded, and you know at least half of all these people, but so far, you haven't spotted any of your friends.

“Can I hold your arm? Just because that's how the dates walk around in these things.” Shyly, you ask as you climb up the stairs to the main hall.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Muttering, you take his arm, now already at the entrance. The two men by the door give you a nod, gesturing for you to get inside. People know you, there's no need to ask for an invitation. The hotel's hall is beautifully decorated, with tiny white and yellowish lights scattered through the walls, and then hanging, coming all together on the chandelier. You can't deny it looks amazing, but still, you'd rather be somewhere else. “So... That's how it happens.” You start, walking around with Billy. “We find our table, and on the way, we make sure to spot and greet some people. The goal is to make your presence known. Then, since it's a beneficial gala, I'll have to make a donation.” Shrugging your shoulders, you wave at one of your mother's friends. “Then we go to our table and endure the rest.”

“No dancing?” He asks, after a small pause you make to greet Mr. and Mrs. Whayland, and thankfully, not James.

“I don't dance on these things, but...” Letting go of his arm for a moment, you turn around until you facing him, slowly walking backwards. “I will if you let me name your car Lily.”

“No dancing then.” He simply says with a smirk. “Quit it. You won't–” Billy suddenly grabs your arms, pulling you to the side. When you look behind you, you notice you almost hit one of the waiters, his tray full of vol-au-vents. “Careful.”

“Oh, my gosh. Sorry.” Giggling and a little embarrassed, you give the young man an apologetic look. “Let me get these.” Reaching out your hand, you take two pieces, handing one over to Billy. “Try this.”

“What is that?”

“Vol-au-vents. Some French thing. It's a pastry with some kind of sauce. It's good.” Carefully not to drop any sauce on your dress, you give the small thing a bite, gesturing for Billy to do the same, eyes focused on his face as he eats. “So?”

“I like pizza better.” He concludes and you nod.

“You're definitely the best date I could find.” Taking his arm again, you pull him to the table where most of the food is placed. There are waiters here too, making sure it's always be full. “Now, chose something.”

You take a quick glance at his face as he thinks. You're happy he doesn't seem so out of place here, or at least he doesn't let it show. “Shrimp cocktails.” He says. “Are they as good as they look or will I be disappointed?”

“I wouldn't know. I'm allergic to shrimp so if you're planning to kill me, that's the fastest way to do it.” Halfway through your sentence, Billy stops on his tracks, his hand now just hovering over the shrimps. “But you can eat them. Just... For real, don't touch me with that hand.”

“Let's not risk it then.”

“Alright.” Blushing, you clear your throat. You did hear some stories about Billy, mostly from your friends, trying to talk you out of coming with him. Billy has a way with women, never really going out with the same more than a couple of times. He's up late partying, punching people in the face when they get on his nerves, stuff like that. But he's being very nice with you today and was kind enough to make this hell of a huge favor. You don't care what he does in his free time, he's a nice guy. “This over here.”

“Brandy snaps.” You say, taking one for yourself. “I love this.” Some of the chocolate gets on your thumb as you eat, so you suck it clean, a gesture that makes some people around give you a disapproving stare. Flustered, you turn back at the table.

“Everything alright?”

“Yup. Come, I want to make a donation and sit down.” The incident makes you a little upset. These rules, as stupid as they may be, are meant to be followed, mostly on an event like this. Not even silly accidents as getting some chocolate cream on your thumb are acceptable. When you get to the table, you ignore the line of people behind it, taking one of the paychecks and a pen, you start writing down. “Last time, I donated fifty cents. As a joke, you know. People only do this to show off how much money they can afford to give away.” You tell Billy as you sign down your name. “My mother gave me a hell of a lecture.”

“So how much will you donate now?” He asks, coming a little closer to read what you're writing.

“Twenty.”

“Twenty dollars?”

“Twenty thousand.” You say as you put down the value, sliding it into the rectangular glass box. When you move to take Billy's arm again, he has his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Nothing. It's just a lot of money.”

Not really, but you won't tell him that. “At least it'll buy something someone needs. Our table is by the windows, thank God.” You exclaim once you finally read your name on a piece of paper attached to the centerpiece of the table. Pulling Billy with you, you take a seat, your eyes immediately finding the beach, just across the street. “We can see the beach from here. A total win.”

“(Y/N)?” Your father calls, and you abandon the ocean for a while, finding him standing beside your mother.

“Hi, dad. Mom. How's the organization of–”

“Is he your companion for the gala?” He cuts you off, exchanging a glance with Billy. You knew they'd be mad, but something just clicks inside you. Through the corner of your eyes, you see Billy immediately looks away, at the beach.

“Yes, father.”

“Didn't you had other guys to–” He's interrupted by an announcement, his and your mother's being called alongside several other people. “We'll discuss this later.” And he leaves, your mother only giving you a hard stare.

“I bet it won't be pretty when you get home,” Billy speaks, still looking through the window. “They might even ask for someone else to attend to your pool.”

“Well, if it wasn't you working that day, I could've drowned so... I'll make sure to remind them of that.” Then, everybody stands up. You, taking the chance, walk closer to the window, arms crossed, forcing your eyes to find where the horizon is, now mixed with the dark sky. Soon, Billy joins you, eyes on the landscape. “Sorry about that. I swear I don't understand why is such a big deal.” You do get it's because he's just the pool guy, an employee, but still, it's stupid. Why can't he be your date? Would your father rather Michael, who almost got you killed, came with you? “I... I'm having a good time with you. This would suck a lot more if I were with some of those idiots.”

“Don't worry about me. I'm used to it.”

“You shouldn't be.” Turning around, you rest your back against the glass, gesturing at the party in general. “Do you know why people make such exaggerated donations? Because the five highest paychecks will be announced, so everyone will know. And you think people will find that selfless and generous? No. They'll start counting, calculating how much those people actually have on the bank to afford to spend so much.” There's a mocking tone on your voice, and you struggle to keep it down. “This isn't about helping those in need, is about social status.”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Billy suddenly says, and the idea is so absurd it makes you chuckle, looking at him.

“What?” Looking around, you shake your head. “I can't... I can't just leave.”

“Why not?” He shrugs his shoulders. “You donated, your parents already know you came, and some woman gave you a death stare just because you sucked some chocolate off your thumb. You achieved all your goals for the night.”

Tilting your head to the side and looking at the floor, you consider it. The night is far from over, and the thought of having to sit here for hours is horrible. And the possibility of leaving thos place makes your heart beat faster. “Where?”

“There.” When you look up at him again, he's gesturing at the beach.

Slowly, a smile comes to your lips. Quickly scanning through the people, you notice they're quite focused on the host, who's still speaking. “Alright, let's go. But we gotta be careful.”

“We will. C'mon.” Billy grabs your hand, moving through the tables, but remaining near the wall. As you keep his pace, you're on high alert, checking if anyone is looking your way. It feels like it takes forever for you to reach the entrance, only half open, but when you do, you're relieved to notice those two men aren't here.

“We're out!” You burst out, quite loudly, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. Quickly, you rush downstairs, walking around the huge fountain and right into the sidewalk. You make a small pause, waiting for some cars to pass by before crossing. You can't stop smiling when you reach the other side. That's when you notice you're still holding his hand, so you let go, looking away. “I can't believe we're doing this.”

“It's not a bid deal.”

“It is for me.” Using his shoulder to balance yourself, you take your high heels off before stepping on the sand. “I never did anything like this.” Feeling the sand under your feet is amazing. This night just got so much better. “You're the best date I could ever find and that's final.” Turning on your heels, you find Billy coming your way, also barefoot.

“A lot of people would disagree.”

“I don't see anyone else here, so their opinion doesn't matter.” Reaching out to your bun, you pull all the pins, letting your hair down and dramatically shaking your head, until the strands fall all over your face. “This feels like freedom.” You giggle, taking a deep breath, aware of how stupid it may sound.

“I don't understand you.” He says, and you open your eyes again, looking at him. Billy walks by, and you quickly move to follow his pacenalong the beach.

“What don't you understand?”

“I met a lot of chicks like you. Rich, wearing rings more expansive than my car, with easy access to anything money can buy and they're happy.” Putting a strand of hair behind your ear, you glance at Billy. His shirt is half unbuttoned under the suit, giving you a glimpse of his chest, and that makes you blush and look ahead again. “But you don't sound happy.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you breathe out, not sure how to answer to that. “I know you probably think I'm just some spoiled rich kid with rich kid's problems who has everything yet wants more–”

“I know people who are just like that.” Billy makes a pause, and you give some more steps before turning around to look at him. “You're not one of them.”

“Are you sure?”

“You're the only boss I ever had who offers help.” As he speaks, a small ripple reaches your feet, and you jump a little before giggling and walking into the water until it reaches your calves, soaking your skirt. “You'll ruin your dress.”

“Mother won't let me wear it again since everyone already saw it so...”

“So... You always do what's expected of you.”

“I'm an open book to you, am I not?” Furrowing your eyebrows, you wonder how did he got there so fast. People don't notice it. You're always in perfect disguise.

“I just know where to look, I guess.”

“Well, I do what's expected of me, yes.” Walking out of the water, you feel the skirts of the dress getting attached to your legs, but you don't mind. “I gave up trying to argue with my parents a long time ago so I just... Follow the rules. One day after the other.” This is sad, you know it. Just mentioning it sucks. Being part of the high society is a privilege, or so they say. But you? You don't have a choice. “The good part is that it's Summer and there's no college. The bad part is that there are some stupid events to attend to, like that gala.”

“I know some people who would kill to be invited for something like that.” Billy tilts his head to where the hotel is.

“If you were somehow enjoying that we can go back.” By the look he gives you, it's quite obvious he wasn't, so you smile, walking closer to him, and pretending to pin your hair up again. “I can just fix this and we can go.”

“That's not my kind of party, don't bother.” He takes both your hands, pulling them away from your hair, causing it to cascade down again.

“And what's your kind of party?”

“You wouldn't like it.”

“Try me. You will never know if you don't take me to one.” The moment you say it, you understand what you meant, and the smile fades from your lips as you both resume your walking. Billy wouldn't take you anywhere else, not somewhere where his friends would see him with you, some wealthy, stupid girl. And your parents would never approve you going somewhere... Different. Somewhere not filled with millionaires. “Nevermind.” You're quick to add. “I throw my own parties. Just blasting music in my bedroom and dancing with myself.”

“So that's where that music comes from.” He chuckles, and you playfully elbow him. “Maybe someday. If your father doesn't kick me out of your property, we might see a little of each other every once in a while.”

“Yeah. You could let me rake some leaves at least, I'm sure I can–” A loud, deafening explosion cuts you short, and you cover both your ears out of instinct. When the impact is over, you turn around, easily finding where the dark smoke and flames are coming from. The hotel. “What the hell.” You're still speaking when a dozen black vans come into your sight, all heading to the hotel. Seconds later, the shootings begin.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon @alwaysadreamingoptimist

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Still recovering from the injuries when they rescued Samantha and Maxine, Soap and France er- John and Francine sits out on the next mission and enjoys a little rest and recreation. Comfy right?

Chapter 8 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex - Just Like Old Times

"Experiment 001"

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - Off Duty

London, United Kingdom

John barely passed the Physical Test and he was excited that he made it just in time with their next mission. But what he didn't expect was that he was already too late to tag along. They were headed to an Augustus base from a lead they got from Alex, who actually convinced the whole local militia to join his cause. He noted not to underestimate him despite the lack of limbs as that was his specialty back in the CIA.

Now, with enough time and approved Rest and Recreation, he can't believe they're driving to London. He didn't know how it happened but a few nudges and teases from France and they were actually driving his trusty jeep on their way to a local coffee shop she wanted to visit.

"You seem happy for someone who sits out in a fight." Soap commented as France's hair blew softly as the jeep sped across the empty highway.

"Well, I can't force myself out there, might as well enjoy the little freedom from the gunfire and chaos." she cheered, raising her hands openly like a tourist or someone from a music video. Soap rolled his eyes toward her behavior but when he thinks of it, he might use some relaxation himself.

"So, we're really driving to London for coffee? We could've just brewed some back at the base, you know?" he informed, eyes turning to the road. 

"Oh come on Soap! Live a little! It's the relaxing background I'm looking for, the one that yells "Rest up Francine and shoot tangos later!"" she teased, Soap was still not convinced about this, he's all too focused on work, living up to the 'elite' part of the task force.

Soap continued driving and couldn't help but momentarily turn to her, how she shook her head when her hair got in the way, how she giggled at the bumps on the road and how she badgered him with a lot of questions. All of those things he seemed to like. She even told him to slow down so she could take pictures of the view and show them to Maxine when she finally remembers her, along with a few selfies with Soap.

~

"So, Soap, this is your vacation? On your phone with a cup of coffee?" France crossed her arms as she sat in front of Soap. The Scottish looked at him, brows raised.

"Don't call me Soap out here. And I'm actually checking German news channels." he informed while not batting an eye on her.

"Really, what should I call you then, Dove?" She joked, while Soap remained unamused.

"John." he muttered.

"Really?! You don't really look like a John. Maybe... a James.. James MacTavish? Sounds better." she mused as she looked at the problematic mohawk man as he keeped raising his phone looking for a signal.

"Hey check your phone. Do you have reception or something?" Soap finally looked at her and turned to the direction she's looking at. A young woman was raising her phone just outside the cafe.

"What is she doing?" France pointed out and Soap was rendered speechless. Moments later the phone exploded into an EMP blast shattering the café windows causing the two to cover under the tables.

"Shite." John muttered and looked at France who was inches near him. France's hands were covering her ears as the ringing continued.

"Come on! Let's leave here before our ears bleed!" Soap roared, enduring the pain of the ringing as he pulled France to safety. People scattered around looking for a spot to stay which was just a few yards away from the phone. Everyone stood still and murmured as the person holding the phone crippled in pain from the said blast.

Francine forced herself off of John's strong grip and winced as she reached the blast zone, enduring the mental pain as she tried to rescue her. John took a while before he helped her up as his ears started to bleed from the ringing. Halfway through safety the phone exploded and the screeching stopped.

911 immediately responded assisting the three of them as well as those who suffered from injuries because of the blast. While being tended from behind the ambulance, a tall red-headed lady with a slick leather jacket introduced herself to them, flashing her INTERPOL badge.

"Hi. I'm sorry you got caught on the crossfire." she apologized, her tone was strict yet calming.

"Aye. It's alright ma'am. We're kinda used to it." John chuckled and Francine nodded. 

"This is kind of my case. Can I ask you for details surrounding the event that just happened?" she blindly fished her notebook and pen from her back pocket and the duo honestly told their story.

"Oh. Thank you very much. um Mr and Mrs…?"

the two of them looked at each other.

"Oh no no no. You've got it all wrong maam!" Francine quickly interrupted.

"Aye. There's no way I'd ask this woman out." John added causing them to argue and bicker like old people.

"Okay Okay. I'll address this differently. You two don't have to fight, okay?" she scolded as she answered her already ringing phone.

~

The sun was already setting when they drove back to the base. The ride was cold and quiet and the two of them didn't say a word after they bickered back at the city. Soap momentarily checks in on her while driving but France just crossed her arms and blasted music through her earphones.

John tried to talk to her about it but he hesitated, her body language was enough to tell him that she didn't need any bothering from him today, or maybe ever. So instead of saying words, he quickly turned to a small path just before the Base's entrance and drove seriously.

"Hey hey hey Mister, where are you bringing me?!" She motioned to eject herself from the car by detaching herself from the seatbelts.

"Oi Oi! Calm down. I just thought you needed a breather." he hit the brakes. They were at a small elevated area just below the river that ran behind their base. Francine slowly calmed herself down enjoying the beautiful view as John exited his jeep and walked to a tree stump.

He sat down and faced the river, the moon illuminated his hair and half of his face while France slowly descended from her seat and looked at his blue eye glow as the moonlight hit his face. 

"Cigars aren't allowed at the base. And we're still technically outside." he winked and offered her a light, a sneaky smirk escaped from his perfectly shaped mouth. 

Francine gulped.

"I don't smoke. Thanks." she gestured a no at the Scot and slowly walked toward him as soon as he turned back.

"Mmhmm.. Suit yourself." he teased as he huffed the cigar and released smoke from his mouth, pouting his lips and looked up at the sky. Francine fell quiet, but she could hear her heart thumping, telling her to say the words she wanted to say the moment they met. But she hesitated, there's no time for admiration in the middle of war. She inhaled deeply and sighed.

"This view looks spectacular." she mused, John just chuckled and puffed another breath of smoke.

"What's with you women and beautiful landscapes? Sometimes I don't get it. Like, it's just water and the sky." he complained. Francine smiled telling herself that it's a different view she was referring to. 

'The spectacular view I'm referring to is you, John MacTavish.' she smiled and told herself.

Task Force 141 Base - Lobby

Soap and France just got back inside the base and Shepherd was already looking for them. Word has it that their involvement from events that occurred earlier today alerted the General and called them into briefing.

"Agent Ryder, I believe you've already acquainted yourself with these two members of the force?" Shepherd introduced.

"Yes. It's Mr. MacTavish and Ms. Winters." the redhead nodded to them as a greeting.

"Good." The general seated himself and let the Agent begin talking.

"The case earlier was that of a Jane Doe, an American who used her phone to create a long lasting EMP blast capable of destroying nearby signal receptors at a set range. Coincidentally, one of your members also reported a bigger machine capable of doing bigger blasts back in Germany. While this may be purely coincidental, the interpol assigned me to further investigate this phenomenon as part of my job as Anti-Terror Weapon Division." she briefed, Shepherd had already talked to his higher ups and they already assigned her as part of a joint operation. 

"Furthermore, Our team wants to quickly eradicate traces of such weapons in order to restore peace and order across Europe." she added. Soap nodded in agreement, he was one of the few ones who witnessed the weapon's power and would like to take part in destroying such machinery. 

"Well Ms. Ryder. We have already discussed this. Welcome to the 141. These two will escort you around, make sure you feel comfortable and well fed with all the data you need." he muttered and shook hands with her. She nodded and thanked him as Soap and France gave her a quick tour of the base.

The tour consisted of mostly France talking, she actually got close with Agent Ryder quickly, and Soap was just there following like a dog. And he hates dogs.

"It's good to have someone like you in a place full of men. It eases off the pressure." the Agent thanked her as they dropped her off her quarters. France smiled and held her hand.

"Don't worry. These men may look tough, but then you get to know them, they're actually sweeter than us. Right, Soap?" she turned to him. 

"What are you talking about?" he easily dismissed rolling his eyes, looking everywhere but their direction.

"See?!" France giggled and Agent Ryder laughed along.

"It's a pleasure to be part of this team. Call me Alexandra. Alexandra Ryder." She said.

"Welcome to the 141, Alexandra." France shook hers and smiled. It may feel like a simple handshake but Soap felt that it was going to be an alliance that's going to last for a long time.

Next Chapter : A surPRICE Visit

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @beemybee

[reverbee]

I Need To Vent

Okay I NEED to rant. (just skip over this I'm sorry to bother your dash I just need to have it written somewhere. You can read it I guess, but please if you're having a bad day already—or even a good one, I really don't want to ruin your day)

( Rant Warning ) (tw: mentions of self harm, suicide, general world problems and heavy anger???)

I hate society. I hate everything society was built on, I hate what it's become. I hate that growing up 'undiagnosed' undermines what I feel. I hate the fact that it seems so hard for others to do something as simple as being kind to others and minding their own fucking business. I hate that I have to make up for my existence with work and school, and if I don't match up, it's everyone elses job to ruin my life because of it. I hate that growing up queer, I have been bullied mentally and physically sometimes by people in my own home. I hate everything that society has done to women and raised them to believe. I hate everything society has done to men and raised them to believe. I hate everything about the way our society has built.

I hate the fact that for a long time, I was caught up in the drama of it all. I still have the scars, mentally and physically that tore everything out of me. I gave everything to my schoolwork, and for years, it tore me apart. In sixth grade when I nearly took my own life, that was the only time anyone looked twice. That's how far it went until people started noticing something was wrong. Even then, people got angry at me for it. People in general are so self-centered, they think that it's because of them.

I hate that the job I've always wanted—an author—might not even support me and my life. If it flops, there's no going back, and I won't be able to get anywhere in life because i followed what I actually wanted to do. I hate that I have to prove myself to get any respect, or just anything in general.

People ask me why I hate people so much, and I can never answer. Because if I did, they'd get angry because of how long I'd be talking. Some people are nice, yes, but I rarely see them. If you're kind to me, I'll treasure you forever. But because of who I am, and how I live, that is hard to come by.

I'm tired of looking at the news, and seeing all these horrible things done to people. And as someone who doesn't like to remain voluntarily oblivious, I see it a lot. I want to ignore it, I do. I really, really do.

People are so goddamned ENTITLED

(I see this more with Americans) but "GOSH heaven forbid someone EXISTS out of the SMALL MINDED VIEW I have over the world". It fucking sucks, people get MURDERED over this and it drives me nuts.

So...again, sorry to bother your dash, this is just and angry teenager ranting about how people have left us with a broken world, and getting angry at us for it.

But I do hope, people that have stopped to read this, I know not all people are bad. And if you feel the same, or relate to anything above, I genuinely hope your day, week, life, all of it, gets better. I know if I used the knife in the kitchen that day, like I dreamed I would, or jumped out that open window right next to me, or actually gotten hit with one of those speeding cars my street is known for like I wished I had, I wouldn't be alive today, I wouldn't have found my passion for writing. I was wallowing in my own destruction for so long, but I now know what it feels like to create. I just want to hug my younger self and tell them, we're so close. I know one day, we'll find peace.

Please have a nice day, and know that life sucks, but some of it's good. And that good is worth living for.

[elejah-wonderland]

Love Is A Heartbreak Away/2

Fanfiction

Part 2

AU TVD/TO

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

Kol Mikaelson x reader

Summary: Elena returns to New Orleans, after she had lived seven years in London, England. As a teenager she had a crush on Kol, and dreams of meeting him again. But there is his older, more stern brother, she never cared about. 

a/n: this is inspired by ‘Sabrina’, cuz I love vintage stuff and old movies.

I hope you like this story. xoxo

tags

@rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @hides2000 @idkhaylijah

if you wish to be removed from the tag list, let me know xoxo

____

Esther arrived earlier and the first thing she did was to sit Kol down to talk to him. As per usual it didn't go all too well.

"Racing is one thing I am good at"- Kol said to his mother-"I am not giving it up."

"Do you know how I feel every time you get into that boat to race. My heart clumps up, and I just cannot breathe from fear that something might happen to you."- Esther said.

"Nothing will happen to me. Anyway, this may be the last season I race anyway. I want to get the grand prix once more. I am right up there among the greatest, mother, you know. Three times in a row. Noone achieved that."

Esther huffed a bit, not happy about it all, but now said-

"Right. You promise you will quit after this season is over? I want a solemn promise! And you will not go back on it?"- Esther asked.

Promising something he wasn't quite sure he would be able to keep, especially if he said the words now he would have to uphold- it was not easy for Kol. And so, well, he could not bring himself to do it.

As he wavered, Esther now disappointingly just waved at her son-

"Go, please."

"Mother, I just-"- Kol started, but she cut him off.

"I don't want to hear anything more, Kol."- Esther said-"please now leave. I am at the end of my thethers with you!"

Kol hated leaving things so tense and continued-

"I know that this is all because of what had happened to Father and Klaus, but- I cannot live under a sheltered glass dome, you so want to put me in, same as Elijah. This is not me. Sorry, but I just can't"

Kol's phone rang and he let it ring, standing like the lost sheep, feeling bad, as Esther was now teary remembering Klaus and Mikael.

"Will you answer this phone-"- she now said agitated.

Kol looked at the display-uttering-

"It's Y/N"

"Answer her"- Esther urged her son.

Kol now answered, leaving the study.

Esther sat down in the armchair wiping her tears off glancing at the family photo on the desk.

"I miss you so much" - she uttered.

There was a knock on the door and Elijah entered saying-

"I am sorry to interrupt, but Larson asks when it would be best to serve dinner? Also, I have just met John's niece Elena in front of the house-"

"Ah, yes-"- Esther now looked at Elijah-"I completely forgot to tell you that she was coming-"

Kol, who finished his conversation with his girlfriend now came back in and said-

"Elena? Little Elena?"- Kol asked-"the hermit?"

Elijah now recalled that they spoke about John Gilbert's niece not long ago. Now he turned to his brother and asked him why he called a hermit.

"Ah, she would always hide. Lurking. Never could talk to her. Well, she could not even get a word out. So, she is back? She came to visit her uncle?"- Kol said.

"Yes."- Esther replied adding-"And I want her to feel like she is at home."

Both Kol and Elijah were uttering Of course, that goes without saying.

"Fine"- Esther said and the woman was ready to get out now and find the butler, when they heard a knock at the door. As Esther said enter, Elena walked in.

She didn't look anything like the teenager Kol remembered. He now looked at her wide-eyed. There in front of them, stood a sheer beauty, greeting everyone present politely, especially Esther.

"Elena!"- Esther now went to the woman welcoming her warmly. Elijah nodded at her not taking his eyes off of her as well. Elena also nodded back at him. Then Kol took over expressing all what Elijah's heart thrummed at that moment, not understanding what was happening to him. It's not like he had never seen a beautiful woman before, or been with one.

"Is this really you? Wow- you've changed! Hey- great to see you! Where have you been hiding all this time? Ah, yeah, London, was it?"

"Yes. I lived in England"- Elena replied.

The butler now knocked wanted to know if dinner could be served.

And now Esther ushered everyone to the dining room. And Kol continuing to chat about London with Elena as they went out of the study. Elijah and Esther followed, letting those two go, stopping his mother for a moment asking about the lunch with the Y/L/N.

"They are ready to invest"- Esther said-"but they want 40%"

"That is steep. The board would not be happy."- Elijah said.

"If they become family, things could be negotiated."

"What do you mean, family?"- Elijah asked.

"Well, Y/N and Kol have been together since their freshmen year- so they hope this will end up in marriage. At least Marie sees it that way"

"Kol- getting married?"- Elijah said like he had never had anything more ludicrous in his life-"they might have been together- and I can't believe they really are still together- because- of all, well - his escapades with other women."

"Well, she has done her share of escapades, too. It's that kind of a generation. They don't take anything seriously. Especially not love. Like Kol said they were not really exclusive."- Esther said. "

"Exactly"- Elijah remarked-"so how do you see them getting married?"

"There is a possibility- well, nothing is confirmed yet. Y/N still needs to go to the obstetrician- but she might be pregnant. And I don't want to get ahead of ourselves here, but, when she returns to New Orleans in a few days, we will know."- Esther said- "now let's eat. We can't keep Larson waiting any longer."

Very shortly, the dinner was served and the star of the evening was Elena, of course, who was now telling them about her life in London, all she did and a little bit about her eccentric benefactor Dahlia.

Even though sisters, Dahlia would not call Esther for years on end. She had not heard from her the last two years.

"She moved her atelier to the Shetland islands."- Elena informed the woman-"I plan to visit her in the spring."

Elena then continued to talk about what she was doing lately.

All evening Elijah listened to Elena speak. Quiet as he was, he was not bombarding her with questions like Kol, but  nevertheless, soaked in every word she had said.

Elena was like the fresh breeze for all of them. Extraordinarily, this was the first night in a long while that Esther was sitting down for dinner with both of her sons. Kol would usually be somewhere with his friends, Elijah would either work or stay at the town house. She felt like the universe bowed down and sent her Elena, like a special gift.

At the end of the dinner, Esther extended a special invitation to Elena to attend her birthday party the next day.

"Thank you so much"- Elena said.

She bid everyone a good night and left the room. And before she went she just once glanced back at them, her eyes streaming at Elijah at the end.

That what was incrompenhensible to her. Why was she saw compelled by him. With these thoughts she trailed off to the little house not far from the Grand  House where her uncle lived.

When she was a teenager, all her dreams involved around Kol - the way she would kiss him, go off to the wildest parties with him, come home in the early hours in the morning. And all these years abroad, she wondered what he was like, if he had changed at all. It proved that he hadn't much. It felt that all was even more enhanced. As always his life was exciting. But when he was talking she blocked some of it off, and found swaying her look to Elijah. She was not into men in suits, workaholics, as her uncle described the eldest Mikaelson.

So, why was he on her mind? He barely spoke two words to her, except for a few polite questions about what drew her to study industrial design. She shook her head as she now put her hair down and combed it, before getting into the shower.

In his bedroom, in the Grand  house, Elijah had a view on the  guest house she was staying at. After a shower, he went to the window glancing out. What was he doing there, looking out- He shook  his head, and returned to his agenda for tomorrow. Even though they were hosting a huge party tomorrow night, he still needed to go to the office.

The next morning, Elena, as an early riser, had already done her yoga and had her breakfast. Her uncle was amazed how disciplined she was.

"I have been invited to the Birthday Gala tonight and I don't really have anything appropriate to wear, so I thought I would head into town. Can I get a lift?"- Elena asked.

"I would offer you my car, but it broke down. And I barely had time to look what it is. I am now Mrs Mikaelson's personal driver and she will not be going anywhere today, but I still have to stay. I'm sorry"- John explained.

"Hey, it's not a big deal. I should have rented a car. I think Kol has said that he would be going into town. I will ask him if he could take me. I don't think he would mind. I'll see you later."- Elena said taking her bag.

Before John could say anything, Elena was already out of the door walking over to the main house. As she was about to enter, Elijah appeared at the door, nearly bumping into her.

"Morning"- he said somewhat startled.

Elena slipped a good morning as well, backing up a bit, suddenly feeling a strange nervousness flushing all over her.

"Can I help you?"- he asked.

"Ahm- no. I was-"- she hated that she seemed to have lost the power of speech as if she was a teenager again, all shy and not finding the right words to express herself. She felt his eyes were piercing right through her, making her even more clumsily restless.

"Yes?"- Elijah slipped.

Elena now got herself together and said that she was hoping Kol or someone was going into town and she wondered if she could get a lift.

"I believe Kol is still in bed. This is too early for him. If you don't mind I am happy to take you as I am on my way to the office."- Elijah said moving with his hand towards his car.

Elena let a little silent sigh excepting the offer and he opened the door of his black Lincoln MKZ. She slipped in, and he closed the door. As he got in, he asked if there was a special place she wanted to be dropped off, and she muttered that she needed to get a dress for the Gala.

He knew exactly where to take her. It was something she didn't expect. But then again, he was a man that had impecable taste in clothes himself, as well as cars. She was intrigued by him. The half an hour drive to New Orleans was spent mostly in silence, till Elena broke the ice by asking about the Mexico Plantation, and she didn't even know why she had asked about it.

"It's a marvellous place. I have enjoyed living and working there."- Elijah said-"it is a completely different world out there. My great twice removed grandmother was spanish and mytwice removed great grandfather married into the family. A Mikaelson and a Fuentes. You know that the spanish once ruled Louisiana from 1762 to 1802. This is when the Plantation in Mexico came to our family's possession."

"I didn't know that"- Elena said-"you grow oranges there? That's how much I remember."

"Yes."- Elijah replied.

They had arrived and just before Elena got out, Elijah said-

"I will be returning to the Grand House at about 4 p.m. If you wish, and if you will be staying in town that long, you can come by the offices, and I can give you the lift back."

"Ah, thank you. I was kind of thinking of going to the race practice at 4. You will not go?"

"No."- Elijah said abruptly. He wished her a good day and left. She didn't know what to think by his clear cut negative response to the boat practice. Her mind trailed off to something else now. It was her day out to enjoy the French Quarter and completely indulge in all NOLA had to offer.

After acquiring the dress she wanted, she went to the bookstore and got herself a book on Mexico. She read all about Tamaulipas, the state where the family's mexican plantation was at.

Walking around the French Quarter, and taking photos, being a keen photographer, Elena arrived late to Kol's practice. But he was glad to see her. He introduced her to some of his friends, with whom she had a drink as well. It all turned soon into a small party like it has always been the case with Kol. She wouldn't have minded staying on with all of them, but since she was invited to the Gala, and Esther being so wonderful and kind, she didn't want to disrespect her host, and above all make her uncle look bad. As Kol was not ready to leave just yet and it was pushing seven, Elena got herself a taxi.

Everything on the Planantation was ready for the grand party to start in an hour. Elena rushed to get ready.

_

In the Grand House, Esther was worried about Kol not showing up. Elijah tried to get hold of Kol, who finally answered his phone and reassured his brother that he would be there in a little while. In he was there in the nick of time.

Elijah got to his room and now gave him the piece of his mind about his reckless behaviour-

"You need to grow up! Enough is enough! This is a very important day for mother and she's got only us."

"I am here, aren't I?"- Kol said getting into his tux as he got out of the shower. To change the subject he now said-"Did you see Elena?! Wow- she is a real knockout. Where were my eyes before-"

Elijah hated the way he spoke about women in that way and gave him a stern look saying-

"Do not speak about Elena in that manner- or any other woman!"

Kol now stood still for a second as he put his jacket on. He looked at Elijah saying-

"What is this? Did I just hear agitation in your voice?"

"Shut up. We have to get down. The first guest are arriving"- Elijah said-"adjust your bow tie. It's crooked."

Kol followed his brother. They were late and they had to be there with her as the whole birthday speech started, so they rushed down.

Kol's phone went and since it was Y/N, he went off answering the call. Elijah now proceeded into the garden where Esther was already in full swing mingling with all the guests. He stood still for a second admiring the view of the woman, who brought such great stir in him, something he had never thought was possible.

She was like the summers breeze that comes out of nowhere and makes all difference in a particular moment in time. He could stand there and look at her forever.

Elena turned around now seeing him slightly lost in his gaze. She smiled a little at him as came over to her. 

"I hope you had a nice day?"- Elijah then said to her-

"I did"- Elena said not taking her eyes off of him.

"Good."- Elijah uttered.

Both of them stood there without saying anything further. Eyes exchanging small delightful nothings filled with gladness about being in each other's company. Maybe they would have stay like this till the end of the party, and it would have been ok, but the butler came to Elijah telling him that his mother wanted him and Elijah slipped clumsily- "duty calls."

Elena nodded a little and dreamily watched him go.

Kol now appeared from behind saying-

"Ah, good. Elijah will do the speech. I so hate these things. Hey, where did you escape?"

"I got a taxi."- Elena replied.

"You should have stayed with us. Tom did these crazy impressions of the ballroom dancing judges."

"Right"- Elena just said and taking a glass of champagne that was now passed to everyone moved forward as the butler singnalled both her and Kol to join Esther as she had asked for them.

Elijah's speech was short but heartwarming, and Kol added only a big happy birthday to his mother wishing her many happy returns.

Esther thanked both of them and then all who came to the party. At the end she gave a special thanks to Elena, introducing her to everyone as her guest of honour.

Elena looked at the woman a bit lost, not understanding where this was coming from.

"Last night was one of the most amazing nights I have had in a very long time"- Esther said to Elena-"I cannot remember when the three of us sat down together as a family. Well, ever since Klaus and Mikael-anyway, it would so wonderful if one day I might call you my daughter."

Elena thanked the woman for her kind words. Esther could see that Elena was somewhat flustered with all and now called for the music to start. She went off to some guests who had arrived late, leaving Elena with Elijah.

"I think her emotions are running high. It has been so for days"- Elijah said feeling he had to explain his mother's behaviour towards Elena.

"Don't you spend time together? I mean- at least for Christmas?"- Elena asked.

"Christmas is the worst, as it reminds her of them. The boating accident was two days after Christmas."- Elijah explained.

"Oh- I just- can't remember. No one really talked about Klaus and your dad."- Elena felt bad thinking she really put the foot in it.

To get off sad subjects, Elijah now put his hand out to her saying-

"Would you care to dance?"

Elena nodded and took his hand. hey walked to the dance floor. And like the song said-both of them felt like they were suspended in the air as they swayed to the tune. Both now not still quite sure what it was that made me feel so extraordinarily different.

 Could he really be starting to feel something for this woman, so out of the blue? And she? Where was all this tingling inside of her come from as he put his hand on her back gently? He was not her type at all. She had always been with guys like Kol, reckless, daring. She couldn't remember falling for a guy like Elijah. What was happening to her? 

________