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the-witty-pen-name · 4 years

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Deadbeat Pt. 2

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Read Part One

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut, cursing, abandonment, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, this chapter talks about Reverend Teagardin/his actions towards the young girls in the story (nothing is described in detail- just accusations discussing how he gives off bad vibes and is creepy- if you’ve seen the film you already know)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

It was always so hot in that little one room chapel. There was no fan and everyone would be crushed in together like sardines. The air was always sticky and it turned everyone sluggish. Your mama never brought you and Tommy to church, but you saw how that singled you out in this community. The judgmental looks people would give you for not going always made you feel like they viewed your family as trailer trash. So when they left, you started going regular like everyone else. You wanted to make a good impression and give yourself an opportunity to be more involved in the community. You used to attend with Arvin’s family, but now you sit on the opposite side of the aisle.

You and Arvin were still on friendly terms. On your nights off, sometimes you’d be invited to join them for supper. Ever since you and Arvin broke up, you’ve politely denied his grandmother’s thoughtful invitations. Now that you were living alone with the Sheriff, you wouldn’t anticipate any more neighborly invitations but instead prayers to save your soul, like you weren’t already damned for ‘peddling the Devil’s drink’ as you’ve heard alcohol referred to so many times by Ms. Russell.

You didn’t care much for the new reverend, and you found yourself often zoning out during his sermons. You were more preoccupied with the uncomfortableness of the pews and how your thighs felt like you’d be ripping giant band-aids off the back of them when you stand up after the service ended- even if it was a cooler day. Reverend Teagardin made a terrible first impression in your opinion, and he never did nothing to make you think you were misjudging him. You trusted the Sheriff’s advice to steer clear of him. Though based on the liking he’d taken to talking to the high school aged girls after service ended, you were thinking you were too old for him anyways. You shook your head, chastising yourself for joking about something like that even just to yourself. You made sure to tell Lee whenever he did something to tip you off that he might be trouble. You didn’t trust him one bit.

After the service, you were almost ambushed by a couple of women who were notoriously known for being the town’s busy bodies. The shorter of the two was Ethel Perry, who absolutely wreaked of cigarette smoke and always carried a little beaded purse. The other was Ida Sinclair, whose hair was a silver blue, and always wore a turtleneck and a thick sweater overtop even in the middle of hot summer days. They were sweet ladies, and normally you’d love to gab and let them fill you in on all the town gossip. They were great to talk to. But now that you were on the other side of their gossip, their nice demeanor felt much more predatory now that they were seeking you out for information instead of sharing it.

“Sweetheart,” Ida said sweetly, cornering you outside by the steps. “You poor thing how are you holding up?” You were buttoning up your jacket, when the pair snuck up on you, catching you off guard.

“Oh Mrs. Sinclair, I’m doing just fine. No need to worry about me,” you say, giving them a small smile.

“Is it true you’re renting a room to Sheriff Bodecker?” Ms. Perry interjects, not even bothering with the small talk. You almost respected her more direct approach, the small talk Ms. Sinclair was attempting to make made you feel a tinge resentful of their attitude towards you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, not giving her anymore details. If she wanted the gossip, she’d need to own up to being direct in her behavior.

“We heard Janie kicked him out of the house,” Mrs. Sinclair said, her face plastered with worry like she felt sorry for the man. You smiled through your teeth and nodded.

“Makes sense,” Ms. Perry added, “Him needing a room and with your mama leaving you here alone and all.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say smiling through your teeth, you hadn’t realized you were grinding down on them that hard.

“Ms. Beaumont was going on and on yesterday about how it wasn’t fitting,” Ms. Perry continued. “You being a young single girl- working at that terrible bar, renting out a room to a man. She was insinuating something awful- but don’t worry dear. We know she’s just being meddlesome and trying to stir the pot where she shouldn’t.”

“Thank you, Ms. Perry,” you responded, sarcastically but they didn’t pick up on it. “It was lovely seeing you both,” you say, stepping away, “but I should be heading home now.”

“Too bad the Sheriff doesn’t come to Church,” Mrs. Sinclair, said, “He could be driving you, so you don’t have to be walking.”

The Sheriff worked on Sunday mornings and both of them knew that. You knew it was just an attempt to insinuate something else you didn’t have the patience to try to decode. You just nodded as a goodbye and started walking home. It never took long to walk, and you wouldn’t bother the Sheriff for a ride unless you really needed one- like if it was bad weather or if you were leaving work too late at night. You didn’t mind walking at all- gave you a chance to just clear your head and enjoy the fresh air, especially after getting out of that stuffy chapel.

You knew the Sheriff actually wasn’t working today. He told you this morning he was going to the courthouse to sign his divorce papers and then to pick up his stuff at the house. You’d see him later on that night when he finished that whole mess. It was the quickest divorce you’d ever seen. Neither one of them seemed to care to get lawyers. Based on what Lee told you so far, he really just was fine with her taking anything she asked for- including the house. His indifference to the whole thing really was like no divorce you’d ever heard about. You sympathized, because it was just him not wanting to prolong the painful ordeal of it all. He just wanted to get it all over and done with, and you understood that.

When you got home, you changed out of your Sunday dress and into some work clothes. A pair of overalls, a short sleeved tshirt and a pair of your old saddle shoes. You protected your hair with a bandana and decided to get to work. You got some free cardboard boxes from the grocer yesterday, and you resolved to help Lee out and clear out all of your mom’s old stuff. You told him when he left to leave the door unlocked for you and it would be cleared out as best you could get it so he’d had somewhere to put his stuff when he got back.

You started with the closet and getting rid of all her clothes. You’d call the donation center tomorrow and they’d send someone to come pick it all up. You weren’t sentimental about anything that belonged to her. Much like the Sheriff and his divorce, you just wanted to get this stuff out of the house and get the chore over with. You kept the photographs, and some of the things you knew might be worth something, like any of the jewelry she’d left in her jewelry box. You took anything that was hers and either tossed it or put it in the large donation pile.

You knew the weather tonight would be fine, so you opted to carry all the boxes outside and stack them on the porch. You figured it would be better and easier to deal with if you piled the full boxes outside before they came tomorrow. You didn’t touch Tommy’s room. You figured there was no need, and he was the only one out of the two you had a small amount of hope would someday come back, even if it was just to visit.

You closed the first box, and carried it down the hall and down the stairs slowly because it blocked your vision. At the bottom of the stairs, you propped the box on your hip so you could open the door. You then walked sideways out of the front door to drop it on the porch. As you were walking out you saw the familiar cruiser, driving down the road. You smiled, actually liking the feeling of having someone living with you. It was a little exciting. It was clouded by terrible circumstances on both your parts, but you hadn’t realized how lonely you had been living alone- even if it had only been a couple of days of Lee being here.

When Lee saw you walk out on the porch, he almost hit the garage door. You looked absolutely gorgeous, sweaty from working around the house and moving boxes. His heart felt strained in his chest when you smiled at him. That right there made his whole shitty day worth it. He hated facing Janie, scribbling his signature fast as ever on every document thrown at him. He hated that she was there with Miller, him standing behind her with his hand on her shoulder comforting her, like she wasn’t the adulterer in the room. It was infuriating.

He felt like a stranger in his own goddamn house, rummaging through everything grabbing what was his. Janie watched him like a hawk, following him around and saying nothing, like he wasn’t to be trusted to not take something. What like he’d steal something that was his? He hardly spoke two words to her. Miller sitting in his recliner, watching the news on the television. She made no attempt to even shield him from the look of another man living there. She wasted no time, announcing she’d be marrying the bastard as Lee was leaving. He mumbled a ‘congratulations’ and loaded the few boxes he had into the trunk of the cruiser.

Now seeing you there standing on the porch, all the bullshit he had to put up with today seemed worth it. It was grounding. He sighed, tossing his hat on the seat, and zipping up his leather jacket- ignoring the way it was fitting a little snugger. As he fumbled with the zipper, his mind started to wander- thoughts always clouded with you. He was usually able to keep his feeling pushed away when he was out, but the second he would see you again, all progress was lost. And here you are, like you were waiting for him to come back to you.

“I still have a few more boxes,” you say as he closes the door to the cruiser.

“I can move them,” he tries to protest, but you’ve already disappeared back into the house. He gets his own boxes out of the trunk and brings them into the house, leaving them on the living room floor for now. He hangs up his coat on the coatrack, on the hook next to yours, and then heads up the narrow staircase to see if he can help you. He gets to his room and he stops in the doorway, dead in his tracks. You’re on the floor, on your knees in front of a box, using a roll of packing tape to secure it shut. His heart stops and he’s frozen. He stutters to make himself known, but you don’t seem to notice the way he reacted to you. He’s relieved that you don’t seem to miss a beat, pushing the box in his direction, your way of telling him he can bring it outside. You stretch over and pull another box in front of you and begin placing folded clothes that were on the floor inside just to fill it to the brim completely before closing it.

That silent assembly line of the two of you makes the work go by quick. You have six large boxes ready to get picked up tomorrow sitting on the front porch, and Lee is able to bring his stuff upstairs. You decide to let him have some time to just settle, and you get started on what to do for dinner when you see it getting pretty late in the afternoon.

There was never any spoken agreement that you’d both eat together. It just kind of happens on its on the past two nights he’s been here. You’d be making dinner for yourself anyways, and making something for two isn’t that much more work. You know he doesn’t expect you to cook for him at all, but since you were taking up the kitchen anyways you don’t mind. You weren’t the best cook, but you’re pretty sure your cooking beats a cold sandwich from the diner.

Upstairs, Lee was letting his emotions get the best of him. His ever-present feelings for you- he actually wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was just an attraction, or maybe he was so used to coldness from Janie that he’s falling apart at a woman being nice to him and treating like a person. He needed to pull himself together. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing how you looked packing the boxes up. On your knees, the overalls hugging your figure, the little bit of sweat on your brow- it was the best sight he ever got the pleasure of seeing. He looks at the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. He sighs looking over his appearance.

There’s no way a beautiful, young girl like you would look at him the same way, as much as he wished it. His slightly protruding stomach, a sign of all the drinking and his bad diet. He had a little bit of a double chin from angles as well. He sticks is neck out to try to remember what his face looked like when his jaw was more defined. He realizes how ridiculous he was being. He didn’t think you were the kind of person to care that much about the things that very much bothered him. He runs a hand through his hair, and continues to hang up his shirts in the closet. You were turning him soft, and you had no idea.

He hears you coming up the stairs, and he feels his heartbeat quicken like you were going to catch him thinking about you. He was being so stupid, he chastises himself. He couldn’t have you affecting him like this. He turned his head and catches your eye as you are heading into the bathroom in the hallway.

“Just washing up before supper,” you say casually, and heading into the bathroom. He had to pull himself together. He sighed, thinking about your sweetness and hospitality ever since he showed up at your door two nights ago. You welcomed him into your home without a second thought. You trusted him, and that made him feel even more guilty. He couldn’t be thinking that anything between the two of you could happen. He needed to be a good man. But Christ, how even could a good man keep himself in check when he’s in such close quarters with you?

“Made mac and cheese with some grilled chicken if you’re hungry,” you say, not looking back at him but just immediately heading back down the hallway and down the stairs. He watched you walk away, biting his lip at how your ass looked in that denim. He gently hits his head against the mirror, like that’s somehow going to snap him out of it. He makes a fist and then stretches out his hands like that will do anything.

“Ms. Perry and Mrs. Sinclair cornered me outside Church today,” you said with a chuckle, as he came into the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he asks, taking the plate you hand to him. He opens up the drawer and grabs silverware for him and yourself while you put your plate together.

“Yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “I’m the talk of the town apparently.”

“I’m sorry about that, hun,” he says sympathetically, “That’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, walking over to your kitchen table and taking a seat. “I find them kind of funny,” you shrug, “They were talking about me long before this and this is just the newest thing.”

“What did they say?” he asks, as he takes his seat across from you. It was a small table, only was able to seat two comfortably, anymore would be too crowded.

“They think I should be using you as a ride to Church,” you reply, “Also that our situation ain’t fitting according to Ms. Beaumont. But they insisted they don’t think that at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he grins.

“I thought she was gonna ask me how much I’m charging you for rent next,” you scoff before taking a bit of food.

“Do they bother you?” he asks. He felt bad at how this living situation would affect you. He understood how much keeping up appearances mattered in this town. If someone were to start a nasty rumor, your name would be tarnish all over town. You might as well start wearing a big red A on your jacket.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It bothered me in the moment, cause they cornered me, but I have no reason to be worried. It’s not like anything they say is gonna amount to anything without evidence. They can insinuate all they want.”

The word evidence hung heavy on his mind. His brain running through scenarios if you both actually had something worth hiding. Kissing you in the backseat of the cruiser pulled into some back road by the water somewhere or sneaking touches under the table at the diner. It wouldn’t be wrong, not really, he thought to himself. You’re an adult and if you felt the same way fuck what the town would think.

You actually thought the Sheriff was quite handsome. You hadn’t really been able to look past how intimidating he looked sometimes or his gruff exterior. The man sitting across from you was not like the guy that makes the town cower away from him at times. He was relaxed, his face especially. It was a rare form for him. The man seemed to constantly be stressed, full of pent-up tension, no doubt due to the stress of his job. You noticed that his eyes looked softer, and how blue they were. Suddenly, you realized it was just you and him- alone. Living in your house. You felt your face heat up, and he picked up on your change in demeanor.

“You alright?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Yeah,” you say, a little nervously. “Just need some water.”

You get up and head over to the cabinet next to the sink, and you reach up to get yourself a glass. Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, making you jump. He’s just reaching to get himself a glass too, his body pressing very lightly against you. He gives you a concerned look as you look flustered and you let out a small gasp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, and you could almost swear you saw him smirking. He takes his glass over to the fridge and pours himself some of the iced-tea from the pitcher you keep inside the fridge.

“I think you’re right about Reverend Teagardin,” you say, trying desperately to reorient yourself.

“He’s no good,” Lee agreed. “He’s crooked. Just be careful around him, sweetheart.” Those damn pet names were making your stomach churn with butterflies.

“I think I’m too old to be on his radar,” you admit quietly, in a rushed tone. Your accusation hushed, even if it was just you and Lee.

“You see him do anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really,” you say, “but he talks for an awful long time to the high school aged girls after services. I don’t know it just gives me a gut feeling about him. Those poor girls, like Lenora- they don’t know when their being sweet talked and manipulated. Just makes me nervous. Married man talking to those girls so shamelessly- charming them.”

“I’ll try to swing by and check the place out,” he nods, looking a little lost in thought.

“That’ll make me feel so much better,” you smile. He grins and licks his lips, before taking a swig of his drink.

You both take a seat at the table again, finishing up dinner fairly quickly. You asked him about his day and he told you all about Miller and the papers, and you listened intently. You felt bad he had to go through that. Yeah, Lee was not a picture-perfect husband by any means, you were sure. But the actions he faced today still sounded harsh. Somewhere in your mind, you thought he deserved better. Maybe he didn’t, but the man was clearly in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Since you made dinner, I can clean up,” he offered.

“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Lee,” you smile shyly. This all felt so… domestic. You were acting like a married couple. It’s not like the two of you could help it. You were living under the same roof and existing in the same space. This is how people who live together interact. That’s it. Right?

“I think I’ll call and leave a message at the donation center so they send someone to get those boxes tomorrow,” you decide. You head over to the living room where you kept your phone, pulling out your address book out of a drawer in the table the phone rested on. Lee nodded, taking your dishes and his own over to the sink.

You sit on the couch, criss cross and hold the base of the phone on one knee, resting the receiver up to your ear with your elbow. You dial the number, the phone clicking every time the dial falls back into place.

Lee can’t make out what you are saying, but he chuckles recognizing the tone of voice you use- like a customer service voice he’ll hear you pull out at the bar often. He does the dishes, and just lets himself escape into his fantasies again. His mind was racing about what those women at Church thought was happening between the two of you. He knows its wrong, but god he wishes it was real.

He imagines that after you both have gone to bed you show up at his door in the middle of the night- looking like how you did the night you agreed to let him stay. You confess how much you want him and he just pulls you into a rushed kiss- you just overtaken by the sudden relief of all the pent-up tension. He imagines how it would feel to hear little moans against his lips coming from you when he slips his tongue into your mouth. He can almost feel what it would be like to have you tightly against his body. His hands being allowed to just freely explore you and how you must look under him, begging and needy-

“Okay, that’s all set,” you announce walking back into the kitchen. “Hopefully they’ll send someone over first thing.”

“G-good, yeah,” he stutters out, pulling himself out of his daydream. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I go in at 4,” you reply, not noticing how flustered he is. He’s relieved to see you looking in the fridge and it gives him a chance to adjust before you saw how hard he was.

“Need a ride?” He asks. “I can pick you up on my way home.”

“Perfect,” you smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’m gonna see if there is anything good on the television we can watch.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he says, relieved when she finally heads back into the other room, taking her seat on the couch again, clicking through the channels.

He needed a minute before heading in there. Every time you were in the room he felt like his skin was on fire. He knew if he wanted to stay, he needed to get a grip. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He joined you in the living room and sat on the other end of the couch. There was an old picture playing on the black and white set.

Neither of you could pay attention to the damn screen no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room- between the both of you was borderline unbearable. Both of you were stealing glances at the other, not realizing the other person was doing the same. When you would look over to him, his eyes would be toward the tv set, seeming to be watching the picture- but he also looked incredibly tense. You wondered if he was hanging out with you because he felt like he needed to. You feel awkward now thinking he’s just sitting though this to not be rude.

Lee was on the whole other side of the world in comparison to what you thought he was thinking about. He was trying desperately to gain some level of composure. He felt like he was acting like a teenager again, fucking jumping out of his skin sitting next to a pretty girl. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. An hour went by, neither of you saying anything- him just lost in his own thoughts. But then he felt your head hit his shoulder ever so lightly.

You had fallen asleep. He wondered how long you had been sleeping before he even realized. Here he was stressed out as ever and you are relaxed enough to fall asleep. He doesn’t even dare move. His whole body goes stiff, not wanting anything to wake you up. He wouldn’t move from this spot for all the money in the world. You were blissfully unaware at how you cuddled up next to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck. You were going to be the death of him.

He very carefully wanted to just make himself a little more comfortable. He slowly moved the arm you had pinned and adjusted so it was wrapped around your shoulder. His fingertips just grazing your skin where the sleeve of your t-shirt ended lightly. Your skin was so soft, and he bites his lip, thinking about how soft you must feel everywhere. The man was so goddamn touched starved. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was this close with Janie. It had to have been years since he experienced something this intimate. After a very long internal battle, he allowed himself to rest his head on top of yours and close his eyes for a few. He didn’t intend on falling asleep, just bask selfishly in the moment for a few minutes.

You opened your eyes and yawned softly. You looked at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight. You closed your eyes again, too tired to realize the position you were in at first. Then, a minute later you realized, and your eyes shot open again. Cuddled up to Lee’s side, his arm loosely around you. His head rested on the back of the couch, looking so peaceful.

Fuck. You were so embarrassed. You hoped he had fallen asleep first and would have no knowledge of this interaction in the morning. You carefully untangled yourself from him, moving as slow as possible to not wake him up.

You clicked off the TV and then turned off the lights, getting ready to retire up to your room for the night. You felt so hot, flushed with pure embarrassment. Your mouth was dry and the only thing you think about was cold water. You tip-toe into the kitchen and fill yourself a glass, drinking the whole thing at once. You turn off the kitchen light and leave your glass in the sick before heading upstairs.

You change out of your overalls and shirt and put on your blue nightgown. You head across the hall to the bathroom, navigating in the dark. You brush your hair, wash your face and brush your teeth before climbing into your bed and swaddling yourself with your many blankets. Your eyes are heavy, and the feeling of being in Lee’s arms is still present on your skin.

His large hands sliding up your thighs is what jolts you awake. His calloused hands moving their way up your body, pushing up your dress as they went. He dips down and presses a tantalizing kiss to your lips, one hand cupping your cheek softly and the other rubbing over your wet panties. You kiss him back, opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. You can feel his hand slip under the waistband of your panties and his thumb gently rubs your clit. Without even questioning anything, you moan and he trails his lips down to your neck, and you shiver at the feeling of his stubble. You arms wrap loosely around his neck, and your fingers play with the ends of his short hair. He groans against your skin and the sound just sends a shiver throughout your whole body. You can feel him smile, and he pushes two fingers inside. You gasp and he muffles your sounds with another deep kiss. You feel overwhelmed by how good it feels combined with the terms of endearment that fall from his lips as he praises you.

The ringing of your alarm clock scares the shit out of you, and your eyes fly open at the sound. You’re breathing heavily, and you feel your hair sticking to your forehead. You let out a heavy sigh, and click off the alarm, and then cover your face with your pillow. You felt how wet you were without having to check. You had a sex dream about Lee. A fucking wet dream about Lee Bodecker.

Part Three

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#lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker smut #smut #angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan one shot #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan smut #fanfic

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arvinsescape · 3 years

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Fight the good fight

Summary: You’re doing an interview for an upcoming movie and get treated with less respect than your male co-stars and they aren’t having it.

W/C: 1.9K

Warnings: Mentions of stress eating and struggles with food.

A/N: Please note that i have in no way intended for this to come across in a negative way in terms of weight. I have struggled personally with stress eating and i understand the unhealthy relationship that you have with food in the end and that is what i am talking about. I think everyone is beautiful, no matter what size or shape you may be, it’s what’s on the inside that counts!

You’d been in the spotlight for a long time. You’d started your acting career at the age of seven and had a really successful career. You were 23 now and had naturally moved into more adult themed films. You’d been really lucky to be cast alongside Tom Holland and Timothée Chalamet in an upcoming thriller. You were playing Holland’s love interest who ends up getting stalked by Chalamet’s character. You were really lucky that you got on so well with the two, the theme of the film could be quite difficult, and it was good to be able to have a laugh with your co-stars afterwards. During filming you’d developed a special relationship with Tom, you’d had to do a lot of scenes together that required the two of you to spend a lot of time with each other and getting to know each other inside and out. You’d gotten closer and naturally a real-life love relationship happened.

You were doing press with your co-stars and you’d been in interviews all day. To say you were tired would be putting it lightly. The day hadn’t gone so bad, some interviews better than others. You’d gathered this as soon as you turned 18, the questions shifted from being about the film to being about you and tended to be quite sexist in nature. You’d learned to deal with it over the years and some interviewers weren’t so bad, you’d not put up with it too much today. You were hoping that this final interview would run smoothly, and you could get into bed, cuddle up with Tom and sleep the night away.

“I can’t wait for this last interview; I love my job, but press can be so tiring!” Timothée said as he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. You were all sat in position, waiting for the interview to start, you were situated in the middle of them.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get back to my hotel room.” You agreed.

“Do you guys wanna borrow some of my energy, I have loads spare.” Tom laughed; he was always the more energised of the three of you. This pulled a laugh from both of you as the interviewer started. He seemed nice enough, but you’d been sat there almost five minutes before he actually addressed you.

“So Y/N? How did you find getting to play alongside Tom Holland and Timothée Chalamet?” Here we go. Although you didn’t mind answering questions like this and they were quite tame in comparison to some questions, it was more the fact that at this point both Tom and Timothée had been asked more direct questions about their parts in the film and you hadn’t. You hoped this wasn’t going to go in the direction you thought it was.

“Yeah, it was amazing! They are both lovely guys, it was an honour.” You answered in a polite manner. Maybe you were tired and read too much into the question.

“So did you diet for the film Y/N?”

“Not really.” You laughed, not entirely sure were this was going.

“Did you work out at all?” Again, where was this going?

“Not really. Not more than I usually do.”

“Well I just thought maybe you had been doing. Your legs looked great!” Here we go. You cleared your throat before you answered.

“Is that what you took away from watching it?” You teased, trying to keep the interview light-hearted.

“Well no. But it certainly was a standout feature of yours.” The interviewer laughed. Tom and Timothée didn’t, they knew how much questions like this annoyed you and it made them feel uncomfortable. You were here to promote a movie.

“I’ll remember that for my next film. When the director says he’ll pay a load of money for a dialect coach, I’ll just tell them not to bother. People will be more interested in my legs than my acting!” You answered in a jokey manner, this pulled a laugh from your two male co-stars.

“No no! I mean your acting was amazing Y/N, don’t get me wrong! But I feel like a good body deserves a compliment, that’s all!” The interviewer tried to joke, this made you uncomfortable.

“Timothée your acting was amazing but maybe you should have worked out more with me, your arms looked smaller than mine.” Tom joked as he too tried to shift the attention away from talks of your body. Timothée quickly catching on as he feigned upset before laughing and flexing his arm.

“You wish Tom, you wish.”

The interview continued on and whilst you got no direct questions about your acting or your role the attention wasn’t on you or your body. Until it was.

“So Y/N? You’re 23 now, right? Have you thought about having a family?” You groaned at the question.

“Yeah, I want a family but when the time feels right.”

“Of course! You wouldn’t want to prematurely end your career I suppose?”

“Why would that end my career. Loads of actors have children and carry on acting.” You fired back. You really hated this question because you could guarantee that if either of the boys were asked this question, it would not be followed up with insinuations that it would be career ending.

“Well not many women.”

“If you believe that, I’ll assume you’ve not done much research.” You shot back. You were visibly annoyed now, which didn’t go unnoticed by the males either side of you.

“I don’t think Y/N has to answer that! She answered your question about a family so maybe we should leave it at that, yeah? It’s Y/N’s life and I think she should be left to live it as she wants.” Timothée defended you. The interviewer shrugged but left it at that. Tom had tensed slightly at the exchange but ultimately kept quiet. That wouldn’t last long as the interviewer brought up his next question.

“Y/N? You have had a struggle with food I’ve read?” The question threw you off guard, yes, you’d recently been open about your battle with stress eating and your unhealthy relationship with food, but you weren’t prepared for the question. Usually you were prepared beforehand, and the interviewer would tell you if they were bringing it up, it was sort of a requirement of yours. You glanced at your manager off screen who looked as shocked as you felt.

“I’m sorry I don’t understand the question. It’s not relevant to the film that I’m here promoting.” You answered carefully.

“No, no of course but you seem to be doing better now than you were a few years ago.” He pushed. Tom tensed further, he knew about your past struggles, and how much talking about it unprepared upset you. “There was a period of time where you were quite big.”

“Erm. I’m really sorry but do you have any questions about the film? I’m not comfortable talking about this.” You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, Tom’s hand shot out to your thigh in comfort, he knew you were getting anxious.

“I was just wondering if you had a problem with that part of your life. You know being bigger?”

“Listen. It’s not that at all. I have no issue with people’s weight, if that’s where you’re trying to go. I’ve talked about this and I absolutely believe that people should be whatever size makes them happy, we are all beautiful just as we are, and I genuinely believe that. What I talked about is the dangers and struggles I had with food. Yes, I was bigger, but my issue was not with my weight, it was with my unhealthy relationship with food and what I was doing to myself through that.” You answered, you felt frustrated, uncomfortable and you were beyond tired now, just wanting to get out of the interview. You took a deep breath before you spoke. “Look, can we just move away from this?” You pleaded.

The interviewer threw his hands up in defence. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

“You weren’t, though were you?” Tom’s voice startled all of you. “You were trying to make it sound like she has an issue with bigger people, which as she has spoken about extensively, she doesn’t. You were pushing her into answering a question she didn’t want to answer. You brought her weight up for no plausible reason, I think it’s you who has the problem with bigger people, if I’m being honest. So what she was bigger? She looked as beautiful then as she does now, as all women do. It’s because of people like you that women struggle with body image and it’s not fair, it has to stop.” Tom ranted as his face went red, he was annoyed you could tell that much. Your heart soared that he was defending not just you, but all women.

“You have been consistently rude to her. I don’t think I’ve heard a single question directed at her that was to do with the film. I hate that men like you think it’s okay to ask women these sorts of questions. You commented on her diet and working out as well as her intentions for a family and if it would harm her career. Why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because she’s a woman and you think it’s okay, you seem to think that she doesn’t deserve the respect of being asked the same questions that men do. It’s not right and it needs to stop, she has worked just as hard as us to make sure this film is as good as it can be and she deserves the respect, as all women do.” He finished as he grabbed your hand, stood up and left the interview. You in tow, completely in awe of him.

“Yeah man. Do better.” Timothée said as he followed, leaving the interviewer shocked and humiliated.

Tom took you backstage. He dropped your hand and took a deep breath before turning around to face you.

“I’m sorry I jumped in like that. It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it, I’m just so sick of men like him. I know that you can handle people like that, but you shouldn’t have to and that was the point I was trying to make I guess.” He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s alright. I’m happy you did. Thank you. it’s nice to know that women don’t have to fight this fight alone and yes, I could’ve handled it but in a way I’m glad it annoys you as much as it does me. I think it will be important for the younger women in your fan base to know that you stick up for women and hold them equal to men. It’s an important message.” You said as you hugged him and kissed his chest. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“It just makes me sad that you have to put up with this kind of thing.”

“I know. But hopefully we can make a change. We need to keep fighting the good fight.”

You stayed like that for a while before pulling apart and making your way back to your hotel room. It’d been a long day, but you were glad you had your co-stars there to defend you. Glad to finally be snuggled up in bed with Tom.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Go Go Let's Go! Let's Go! Dateko! (Pt.1)

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 7000+

"You're looking at the face of the new captain of Date Techs iron wall" your son Futakuchi Kenji shouted as he burst through the front door of your humble abode.

"So they really went with you huh" you snicker "good maybe now you'll finally learn some respect for Moniwa and those other nice third years"

Kenji huffed as he set his bag down taking off his school tie and jacket.

"You know mom, most parents would be like 'oh my god Kenji I'm so proud of you we can order your favorite tonight I love you so much you sweet sweet child'" he mocks as you stare at him trying not to laugh.

"Since when has that been our relationship Kenji" you smile as you proceed over to your son.

You grab him forcing him into a tight squeeze "Oh I love my boy so much you are so precious I can't wait to go cheer for Date Tech every single game now" you gush as he tries to force his way from your grasp.

"Eww mom please stop" he says as he gags "I didn't mean that supportive. Please don't show up at our games."

"I don’t know Kenji those team mates of yours really do like me" you snicker as you turn around "I wouldn't ever want anyone to think I don't support my precious baby boy."

Kenji rolled his eyes as you laughed. You had always had a really good relationship with your son. You had him at the age of 20 while you were in a relationship with his father. Unfortunately the relationship didn't work out and his father left the area. You didn't see him much and neither did Kenji. You struggled as a single mom, finding your main support in your parents. You had a great relationship with them and the 4 of you together made up a tiny happy family.

Your parents helped you finish school while your mother watched Kenji. You graduated and getting the job you had worked years for. Now that you were established, things were going well. Kenji was doing well in school, playing volleyball for one of the top schools in the Miyagi prefecture and you were working long hours at a job you loved. No matter what you always made time for your son. He didn't really want you to attend his games so you would occasionally sneak into one watching from the nosebleeds. You loved seeing your son doing what he loved and you always encouraged him.

"So what does a team captain do" you ask as you place the order for your son's favorite take out.

"I mean I run pratices, lead drills and encourage the team" he says nonchalantly as he looks over his school work.

"Not a strong suit of yours Kenj" you smile as he shots a death glare at you.

"Well it's alot easier now that we have a manager to help too" he says.

"Oh you found one then?" You smile

"Yeah Nametsu Mai, she's a second year. She will be doing a lot of the note taking and helping with set ups. Also it's nice to have someone making bentos for the team" he says.

You look up from the bills on your counter "wait she's doing all that alone? That poor girl why does she have to do all that?"

"It's her job mom chill" Kenji says as he laughs at your outburst.

"And your job Kenji is to make sure your team runs efficiently so I expect you to be helping you" you turn as you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Mom ser-" Kenji starts as he sees the glare in your eyes.

"I'm 100% serious Kenji. If you don't help that girl I swear to God that I will be front and center at every single match. Every single tournament with a giant sign in the shape of your face and a shirt that says 'I'm Futakuchi Kenji's number one fan'" you glare as his eyes widen.

"Ok mom ok ill invite her over to help her my god you're mean" he says as you smile.

"I'm off Friday so I can help you make bentos too. You really suck Kenji at doing anything domestic" you smile as you walk to the door to get the takeout you ordered.

Kenji shakes his head as he groans.

Thank God I'm only captain for 1 year he thinks as he signs going to help you get the food.

Friday approaches quickly as the team gears up for their first round of tournaments

"Mai" Kenji calls as he motions for her to come over

"Yes Kenji?" Mai says with a bright smile

"So I want to help you prepare meals for the team for the tournament" he says.

The team stops. Mai looks at him in shock. Middle blocker Aone Takanobu just stares. Fellow outside hitter Obara Yutaka smiles as Libero Sakunami Kōsuke looks on in complete shock.

"Stop looking at me like that! I'm a helpful person!" He screams as they all go back to their activities.

"Ahh it's ok Kenji I really don't need he-" Mai waves shaking her hands.

"Just come to my place tonight ok" Kenji says as the gym doors suddenly burst open.

Coach Oiwake Takurō just shakes his head as he witnesses to former 3rd year volleyball players parade into the gym.

"Well hello our precious underclassmen" Former Middle blocker Kamasaki Yasushi shouts as he walks over to the team.

Kenji just shakes his head "you guys really must lead boring lives if you always have to come bother us during practice. Haven't you found a job yet Kamasaki?" Kenji smirks as he sees the third year began to get heated.

"And here I thought you changed Futakuchi" he says as he goes to grab the captain by the collar.

Suddenly someone yells "Aone" and Aone goes to break up the fighting duo.

"Still no respect for your upperclassmen I see" Former captain Moniwa Kaname says with a laugh.

"Well since you're here you might as well make yourselves useful" Kenji says as he stares at Kamasaki "go block for me."

Kamasaki loosens his tie as former wing spiker Sasaya Takehito says as he shakes his head "not again."

Practice ends as the team clears the gym. Mai and Kenji walk to the Futakuchi residence.

As they approach, Mai looks at Kenji.

"You really don't need to help me" Mai says "it's my job as manager."

"I know Mai but you see- umm well my mom kinda insisted I help you" Kenji says "she's a bit- much."

They walk to the front door as Kenji opens it. Y/N comes running from the kitchen to greet her son and hopefully their team manager.

"KENJI I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DIDNT BRING-" you stop as Kenji just stares at you.

"Oh hello! You must be Mai!" You say extending your hand to the young girl.

"Hello Ms. Futakuchi! It's so nice to meet you" Mai says as she bows, saying Y/Ns hand.

"You as well! Kenji you didn't tell me how cute she was! You must get attention for all the boys" you smile as Mai blushes.

"Mom seriously" Kenji says as his face turns read and he walks away putting his and Mai's bags on the floor.

"What? It's true! But take it from me honey, boys are nothing but trouble! Look at Kenji" you say as you smirk to your son, Mai trying to hide her giggling.

"Ok mom did you just invite her over to ridicule me?" Kenji says to you completely unimpressed

"Nope I can do that without inviting her over! Now let's go to the kitchen Mai" you say as you lead the young girl to the kitchen.

You and Mai work to prepare bentos as you put Kenji to work where you need him.

"Honestly Kenji just stay out of the way" you shout.

"Mom why did you even ask me to invite her over?! I'm literally doing nothing" he says as he sits at the table

"Yes and you're terrible at it" you roll your eyes.

Mai finds your relationship with Kenji amusing and lighthearted. She can tell you have a great relationship with your son and you both feel comfortable picking on each other.

"Ok that's the last of it Mai. You did such a great job! The boys are so lucky to have you. And if they ever say anything rude to you, you let me know and I'll take care of it" you nudge Mai as she giggles.

"Oh don't worry Ms Futakuchi, Coach Oiwake makes sure they appreciate me" she smiles.

"Coach Oiwaka? I don't think I've met him" you turn slowly looking at Kenji

"Why would you need to mom? You always tell me you're happy to get rid of me to whomever will take me off your hands" he says to you in a mocking tone.

"Still! Is he cute?" You say as Mai laughs out loud

"Mom we are not having this discussion " Kenji says as he places his hands over his ears and walks out of the kitchen.

"Well is he?" you say smiling at Mai.

"For an older man, yes" she says giggling "he's been divorced for a few years now. No kids to speak of. He's pretty dedicated to being the coach"

You smile. It's been forever since you've been out with a man. After Kenji's father left, you were top focused on your career and school to even consider dating, let alone be intimate. It had been at least 5 years since you last had sex. Honestly you weren't even sure that was accurate.

"Ms. Futakuchi" Mai says to you as you stare off into space "umm Ms. Futakuchi?"

"Oh gosh I'm sorry Mai! Just thinking. How about we keep the bentos here and I'll bring them tomorrow morning before you leave?" You smile as Mai nods.

"Heck maybe I'll even get to chance to see this gorgeous coach of yours" she winks

"LA LA LA MOM I CANT HEAR YOU" Futakuchi sings from the other room as you both laugh.

Saturday morning approaches as Kenji leaves early to help load the bus. You leave the house at 7:30 in your leggings and old date tech t shirt, figuring it would just be a quick stop to drop off the bentos and back home to enjoy a day free from Kenji and responsibilities as an adult.

You arrive at the school and see the bus outside. It seems like the team is in the gym so you quickly grab the box making your way to the gym. You start to press the door open as you enter slowly.

Coach Oiwake looks up from his notes to see a beautiful young women standing holding an entire box of bentos.

Who are you? And how in the world are you so attractive?

"Kenji you jerk get over here and help your poor mother" you say sarcastically as the team snickers.

"More like 'poor me having to deal with my MOM showing up to my volleyball gym’" kenji rolls his eyes as he quickly walks away from you.

"Love you too sweetheart" you blurt out as every laughs and Coach Oiwake smiles.

"Futakuchi is this really your mother?" Coach says as he watches Kenji out the bentos on the floor.

"Unfortunately yes" Kenji says as he rolls his eyes rejoining his team.

You turn to walk out as Coach Oiwake stops you.

"Mrs. Futakuchi, hello I'm Coach Oiwake Takurō" he says as he extends his hand to yours.

"Oh no 'Mrs' please. Just Y/N" you say as you blush.

The team is observing your interactions.

"Awe that's so cute" Mai gushes as Obara places a hand on Kenji's shoulder.

"Man I don't blame coach at all. Your mom is hot" Obara laughed as Futakuchi glared at him.

"Can we please load the bus and stop talking about my mother? Kenji says.

"Well Y/N we very much appreciate you helping Mai with the Bentos" Coach Oiwake says to you as you smile.

"Don’t mention it Coach Oiwake! Kenji should be doing it anyways AS THE CAPTAIN" you sarcastically shout to him as he walks by you.

Coach Oiwake laughs "I can see where Futakuchi gets his whit Y/N and please call me Takurō."

You smile.

"I hope you'll be able to make it out to the tournament this weekend. I know the boys would appreciate the support" Takurō says as Kenji snaps his neck around.

"Oh no coach my mom is busy this weekend right MOM" Kenji says as he bores holes into your face.

"Actually I don't work this weekend Kenj! Hey that's a great idea! I'll come to support our boys" you shout as you go to hug your son.

Takurō laughs as he watches how cute you interact with your son.

"I look forward to seeing you there Y/N" Takuro says as he turns around winking at you.

Is the coach really flirting with me? you think as you giggle to yourself.

"Oh my god" Kenji shouts as he walks away "Oh don't worry sweetie I promise I won't cheer too loud for my precious angel" you tease as you bid the team and Kenji a farewell.

Damn I need to get to know her Takurō thinks as he smiles as you walk away.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh

#dateko #date tech #Oiwake Takuro #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs #haikyuucoaches #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#team mom series #teammom #team mom

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

part iii

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they’ve been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you’re the perfect little doll for their plan.

General Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, princess, ie; oral sex (female and male), fingering, (forced?) poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

Chapter Warnings: non consensual touching and kissing, non consensual drugging, mean! Steeb, soft bois, stucky fluff

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Part Two // Part Four

Masterlist

It took you fifteen minutes to gather the courage to take a shower. Another ten to undress. You hated how exposed you felt, how at any moment Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes could walk in and see you naked.

The shampoo smelled heavenly, and as you dried your hair you marveled at how soft it was, how the scent lingered in your hair.

You clutched the towel to your body as you rummaged through the dresser drawers, searching for the least provocative set of underwear. You settled on a pair of lacy briefs that showed more of your ass than you initially thought and a matching bra.

You sorted through the wardrobe five different times, trying to find something to wear. Should you wear a dress? Did they want you to dress up? God, why were you complying with them?

You decided on a white sleeveless dress with a pink floral pattern and a flattering neckline. You paired it with a light pink cardigan, pulling the sleeves down past your wrists.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, you find what you need to style your hair, applying a quick layer of mascara to your lashes. While contemplating whether or not to put on some lip gloss, you grabbed the Chanel perfume bottle, examining it carefully before spritzing a little on your neck. It smelled like jasmine and roses. You liked it.

You shouldn't like it.

You're looking through the extensive makeup collection when you hear the door unlock. You turn your head and watch Bucky close the door behind him, balancing a tray with three plates of food in one hand. He spots you in the bathroom and his jaw drops.

"Wow, doll, you look—you look amazing."

You give him a timid smile and watch as he moves out of sight. You follow him to the threshold of the second room, the one you hadn't yet looked in. A small dining table sat in the middle of the room, with an absolutely gorgeous diamond chandelier hanging above the table. A large bookcase filled with books lined the wall. Skimming the titles, you realized that most of them were books that you had at home—or at the very least the same authors. Some were books you've never heard of before, a few were ones you've always wanted to read. Others were older, classics like the Oz series by L. Frank Baum and the Lord of the Rings series. Books that Steve and Bucky would have read in their childhoods.

"That was Steve's idea," Bucky says, walking up to you after he set the plates down on the table. "Wanted to get you something a little more personal."

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say. Were you supposed to thank them? For what, for kidnapping you? For buying you expensive luxuries you didn't want?

Bucky hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"You look absolutely stunning in this dress, doll," he murmured, his voice low. You swallowed before finding your voice.

"It's just a dress. . . ."

His eyes were gorgeous. Tantalizing blue-grey like the sky at the first signs of a storm. You found yourself lost in them, at the little specks of a deeper blue, of green. You didn't realize he was closing in on you until his lips touched yours.

He smirked against your lips as you squeaked in surprise, your shoulders tensing as your hands flew to his chest to push him away. You felt like you were pushing against a brick wall; the solid mass of muscle beneath your palms wouldn't budge. When Bucky seemingly got tired of your resistance, he gathered your wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to your chest.

He moaned against your mouth, coaxing your lips apart as he dipped his tongue in. You stayed frozen in your spot, letting his tongue roam within your mouth. His hand trailed down to your breast, squeezing softly as you whimpered. His lips moved to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, kissing and sucking his way down your neck.

"You're wearing the perfume," Bucky commented, murmuring against your skin. "Do you like it? It reminded us of something women would wear back in our day. Something that fits you."

You shut your eyes, biting back a whimper as he nibbled on your neck. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands flat against the wall and he suckled at your pulse point. You let out a weak mewl as he licked over the dark mark he created, his knee pushing against the apex between your thighs.

"Bucky asked you a question, sweetheart," Steve said suddenly, standing in the threshold, holding a bottle of wine by the neck and three glasses by their stems. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him and you try to push Bucky away, but he doesn't budge.

"When one of us asks you a question, you answer it." Stave's voice was surprisingly stern, sending a shudder down your spine.

It took you a moment to gather your voice. "Yes. . . it smells very nice." If either of them heard how shaky your voice was, they didn't acknowledge it. Steve hummed, setting the wine down on the table.

"Buck, dinner's ready."

"Mmm, I got dinner right here," he mumbled. Bucky grabbed your hips and pulled you down on his knee, grinding your core against him. You yelped, pushing against his chest in desperation.

"Bucky."

Bucky grumbled in response, fingers digging into the divot of your hips as he licked a stripe up your neck before finally relenting.

Your knees were shaking so much you could barely keep yourself upright, your hands plastered against the wall for support. Mascara streamed down your cheeks as Bucky held his hand out to you.

"C'mon, doll, let's eat."

Steve pulled out a chair for you, Bucky guiding you to sit down. Steve wiped your stained cheeks with a napkin, shushing you as you whimpered.

"Buck and I made your favorite, sweetheart," Steve beamed. "Fettuccine Alfredo with broccoli. We even got a bottle of Cabernet to share."

You nodded, mumbled a small 'thank you', and let Steve set your plate in front of you.

"Eat up, sweetie."

You were allowed one glass of wine during dinner, which was barely filled a third of the way up. You wanted to drink from the entire goddamn bottle—it seemed appropriate, considering the circumstances.

The fettuccine was good, admittedly, which made you sick to your stomach. You weren't very hungry, you had hardly taken four bites of your pasta, and Steve and Bucky had noticed.

"What's the matter, doll?" Bucky asked. "Do you not like it?"

"No!" you rushed. "No, it—dinner's wonderful. . . I'm just not very hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day, sweetheart," Steve chided. "And you didn't have very much to eat yesterday, are you feeling okay?"

You scoffed at that. "Other than the fact that a couple of psychotic superheroes have kidnapped me?" you muttered. "Oh, yeah, I'm great."

"Watch the attitude," Steve warned. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your uneaten food.

"Steve." Bucky looked at his friend, giving him the puppy eyes he couldn't ignore. "Give her a break."

Steve sighed. "If you really don't want to eat, fine, we'll go over the rules instead. Buck, you mind cleaning up?"

Bucky downed his wine, sighing as he and Steve stood. You were hesitant to follow, but when Steve held out his hand for you to take, you realized you didn't have much of a choice. He threaded his fingers in yours, guiding you back to the bed.

"Sit," he told you. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, Steve standing in front of you. "Good girl."

You couldn't stop the involuntary shudder that ran down your spine at the pet name. Steve smirked at your reaction.

"We're going to go over the rules, okay? There aren't many." He waited until you nodded to continue. "First off: We won't tolerate disobedience. You'll do as you're told when you're told, and you'll drop the backtalk. Got it?"

You couldn't understand the fear that settled in your gut. You should be angry—furious—at him for trying to control you, but you were just unbelievably scared. They held all the power here. You were helpless.

"Second rule," Steve growled, "you answer when Bucky or I talk to you."

"Okay," you forced out. Steve's expression relaxed a little.

"Good. Until you can show Bucky and me that you're ready to move upstairs with us, you'll stay down here. We bought you some books already, but if you want anything else to keep you entertained, just tell us. We'll get you anything you want, within reason. And you can make as much noise as you want down here—we soundproofed it. Doesn't mean you won't get punished for causing a ruckus, though."

Your lower lip wobbled a little as you responded with, "I understand."

"You will treat us with respect. You'll use your manners, you'll be sweet. You will accept what we give you, and you'll do as you're told when you're told.

"You disobey us, you will be punished. And trust me, Bucky and I can get pretty creative when we want to be. Your attitude at the dinner table was your only warning."

"I understand," you said quietly. "I'm sorry."

The apology slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

"Buck and I will do everything we can to make you happy and comfortable. That's our job, sweetheart, to make you happy." He gently cupped your cheek, his hand so warm you had to stop yourself from leaning into his touch. "You already make us so happy, we just want to return the favor."

You frowned at that, confused. Steve could see the wheels turning in your head, an amused smile on his face.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, princess?"

"Why am I here?" you asked carefully, your shoulders tense as you avoided his gaze. "I just—I don't understand."

Steve sighed, squatting down so he was level with you. "Because, sweetheart, we need you. You are perfect for us, baby, I knew that the moment I first saw you on the ice. The way you danced was so—so beautiful, you know? Like you were walking on water. I saw the way you seemed to relax, like every burden was being lifted off your shoulders. It's the only time you've seemed truly free. You're always so busy, sweetheart; between classes and practice, when do you have time for yourself? You're gonna work yourself to death, baby. We can help you, we can make you happy. I know you don't understand right now, but we are what you need.

"And you'll make us happy. We want you with us, want you in our relationship. We love you, sweetheart, we just want to show you that we love you."

You didn't realize you were crying until Steve brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away a tear.

"I know it's a lot, baby, but it's the truth. We're gonna take care of you, princess. You'll be safe here."

Your hands shook as you folded them in your lap, wringing your dress through your fingers. The fearful pout on your face had Steve trying to stop a smile. The crease between your brows was just too cute.

"But—I was happy," you sniffled. "I love skating, I love dancing. . . I was going to graduate in the spring. You're taking my life away, why can't you see that?"

"We know it's tough, doll," Bucky said, leaning against the threshold, his arms crossed against his chest. "We know it'll take some time for you to acclimate to your new life, but if you're patient with us, we'll be patient with you."

"No. You don't understand—" Your fear was quickly dissipating into anger. They weren't listening to you, they weren't going to listen. "I don't want to be here. You say you care about me? That you want to make me happy? Then let me go, please."

Steve sighed, looking back towards Bucky. His gaze turned hard as he looked back at you. "You're staying with us. We'll talk about some things we can get you to keep you from growing bored."

Your face fell at his comment.

"My ma used to cross-stitch," Bucky commented. "I would watch her and my sister go at it for hours. I'm sure it isn't too hard to figure out."

"Or knitting?" Steve piped. "You ever knit, sweetheart?"

You shook your head after a moment, appalled that they were having this conversation so nonchalantly. Rage radiated within you, angry tears threatening to spill past your lashes as you dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

"There anything you like to do, princess?" Steve asked.

You shrugged simply, looking down at your hands. Steve frowned, opening his mouth to speak when Bucky stopped him, resting his hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, doll, think about it for a bit." He gave you a small smile before giving Steve an exasperated look. "Stevie and I'll take the dishes upstairs, why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Good girl, we'll be back down in a bit."

You watched them leave, the big heavy door locking you in behind them. You felt numb—fuzzy—like you weren't actually there. Or maybe you were just hoping you weren't. That maybe this was all some drunken-induced nightmare. Maybe you had drunk too much and wound up in an alcohol-induced coma.

You stood, stiffly walking toward the dresser. You shuffled through the drawer, looking for something suitable to sleep in. All you could find were silky slip ons and vintage nightgowns with lace on the hems and little bows—you hated it. You hated how they picked your wardrobe like you were a doll, how they were keeping you down here like a. . . a pet. Like you were a puppy they chose to take home from a shelter, keeping you in the basement to acclimate you to the house.

You groaned in frustration, slamming the drawer shut. You pace back and forth between the width of the room, pulling at your hair as you tried to put your thoughts together. Your head was spiraling, completely overwhelmed as you drowned in rage and fear and stress until you felt like you couldn't breathe.

You jumped as you heard the door unlocking, turning your head just in time to see Steve enter the room. You frowned, watching him wearily as he smiled at you, closing the door behind him. "Hey, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?" It slipped past your lips before you really thought about it, mouth clamping shut as soon as you saw the way Steve's jaw clenched.

"Made you some hot chocolate," he said, holding up a mug. "Sprinkled some cinnamon in it, just how you like."

You felt your stomach drop. You blinked once, twice, swallowing the bitter disgust that was threatening to overflow your senses. "Oh, um. . . thank you."

He moved to set it down on the nightstand, turning back to you. "Why haven't you changed yet?"

"I—uh—I just—" You looked down at your florally dress, eyes flitting back up to meet his. "I couldn't decide what to wear," you lied.

Steve watched your eyes flick to the side, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress. He smiled, stepping close to you and hooking his finger under your chin to tilt your head up. "Why don't we go find something, huh? Come on."

He wrapped his hand around yours and guided you to the dresser, opening up a drawer. He started to shuffle through the clothing. "Let's see. . . how 'bout this, sweetheart?"

He pulled out a little black silk slip-on, holding it up by the straps. Your jaw dropped, completely appalled as tears quickly began to well in your eyes in panic. You had just started to stutter out an answer when Steve chuckled.

"I'm just kidding, sweetie, relax."

Your stomach flipped as you watched him smile—a genuine smile that split his lips and showed off his pearly white teeth. You blinked, stunned, taking in the smile lines in the corner of his eyes and the barely-there dimples on his cheeks.

"How 'bout this one?"

He showed off a modest nightgown with strings laced up the neckline, doily lace trimming the hem of the collar and the skirt and pink bows decorating the fabric. You scowled, barely stopping a grimace from spreading across your lips. Steve caught it anyway, huffing out a laugh.

"Not that one either, huh? Okay. . . . What about this one?"

He pulled out a sleeveless silk sleep-dress with lace tracing the neckline and the straps. The color of the silk reminded you of something a newly wed would wear on her wedding night, that off-white ivory that many women dreamed of. Knowing that was probably the simplest nightgown you had, you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping.

"That one works," you told him.

Steve beamed, his eyes sparkling as he shut the dresser drawer, handing you the nightdress. "Alright then, go ahead and get changed."

You nodded, giving him a small smile back as you went to turn. He caught your arm, his grip firm yet gentle. "Where ya goin'?"

You frowned at him. "The . . . bathroom? To change?"

His grip on your arm tightened for only a second, enough to send a shudder down your spine. You bit the inside of your cheek to try to steel yourself, hoping you didn't look like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"You don't need to go to the bathroom to change, doll. You can do it right here."

"But—"

"Now, sweetheart. I won't ask again."

You nodded, shuffling the sweater off your shoulders. You ducked your head, your hands wringing the sweater tightly. "Could you—um—could turn around, at least? Please?"

Steve sighed and you dropped your gaze. "Fine. But you're gonna have to learn to get used to Buck and me eventually."

You nodded and watched as he turned, thanking him. You were quick to unzip the dress and let it pool at your feet. You struggled to unclasp the bra, grunting in annoyance when it wouldn't come undone.

"You need some help, sweetheart?" Steve taunted. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"No."

You decided to just slide the straps off your arms and shuck the bra down your body until you were able to step out of it, dropping it on the floor and pulling the nightgown over your head. It was shorter than you anticipated, the hem reaching mid-thigh instead of your knees.

"Okay, you can turn around."

Steve took two steps and he was facing you again, smirking down at you.

"You should drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold," he said.

"Oh, uh—right." You sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping your fingers around the mug before you took a small sip. Steve watched you intently, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "So —um. . . where's Sergeant Barnes?"

"He's finishing the dishes," Steve told you. "Should be down here soon. Why, you miss him already?"

You felt your cheeks heat up, your fingers tapping against the ceramic of the mug as you sputtered out your answer. "N-no, it—it's not—I was just curious, is all."

Steve chuckled. You swallowed nervously, taking a prolonged sip from your mug—mainly as an excuse to avert your eyes from Steve's gaze. You kept silent, focusing on the warmth that flooded your chest every time you took a sip of your hot chocolate. You blinked lazily, your body feeling heavier. Steve sat down next to you, and as you turned your gaze you realized for the first time he had changed. Before, he was wearing trousers and a button-up shirt. Now, though, he's in sweatpants and a plain white shirt.

"Bucky thinks you'd like a record player down here," he said, "something so it isn't so quiet. We could get you some cd's, some records. Does that sound good?"

Not how does that sound? or would you like that? But does that sound good? He wasn't giving you any other option but to comply. To be okay with his decision. You blinked again, finding it harder to open your eyes this time as you nodded, muttering a soft, "yeah."

Steve smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. You jumped, spine going rigid as you felt his lips split into a grin against your skin.

"You're too cute, babydoll."

You swallowed, sucking in a shaky breath, bringing the near-empty mug to your lips. You couldn't tell if it was the trembling in your arms or if your hands were really shaking, but you gripped the ceramic tighter so you wouldn't drop it. You had never been called that before. Babydoll. You always hoped you would have a partner who would call you by that pet name, but the few boys you dated in high school and freshman year of college were. . . shallow. Your second boyfriend hardly ever told you he loved you. But—even still—you never thought the first time someone would call you that would be a situation as fucked up like this one.

The loud click of the lock broke you from your thoughts, the solid steel door opening slowly. Bucky Barnes stepped in, shutting the door behind him, smiling at you as you heard the dreaded lock click again.

"Hey, doll," he greeted. He ran his flesh hand through his cropped hair, smiling down at you as he crossed over to you and Steve.

You honestly couldn't tell if you acknowledged him or not. Your vision was clouding and your eyelids felt heavy like you could fall asleep in a second if the two men would let you.

"She drink her hot chocolate?" you heard Bucky ask.

"Practically chugged it," Steve answered. You frowned, not understanding their words. You looked down at your empty mug precariously, your brow furrowed as you tried to look for something obvious. Like a roach.

You shivered as Bucky took the mug from you, his fingers ghosting over yours and he smiled. You shuddered again, goosebumps rising upon your skin when Steve started combing his hand through your hair.

"What's the matter, baby?" Bucky asked. "You cold?"

It took you a moment to answer, your eyelids closed, as you mumbled out a soft, "yeah."

You felt Bucky's hovering presence leave for only a moment before it returned; you cracked your eye open to see him holding out a cardigan sweater.

"Go on."

You took it with a soft 'thank you,' and pulled the woven wool over your shoulders. It was so soft against your skin, you hugged your arms around your body as the plush fuzz tickled your bare arms, letting out a sigh. Your head started to droop after you closed your eyes and Steve had to nudge your chin up with his finger. You heard him chuckle.

"I think that's our queue to go to bed," he said. Your world was spinning then, as two hands came under the crooks of your shoulders and lifting you. You let out a lazy yelp as Bucky plopped you down on the center of the bed. You bounced on the mattress a few times before you settled, your eyes falling on Steve as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Wha. . .wha're ya doin'?" you slurred, heart racing as you felt the bed dip.

"We're goin' to bed, baby," Bucky said like it was obvious, crawling into the bed beside you. You frowned at him, your mind foggy as you tried to wrap your brain around what was happening.

"I. . . no—I don't want—"

Steve shushed you, climbing into bed on the other side of you. His hand pressed against your chest, the width from his thumb to his pinky finger spanning across your entire front as he pushed you back with little effort. Your back landed on the plush mattress with a soft 'oof'. "You're just tired, sweetheart," he smiled. "Go to sleep."

You couldn't fight it. Their body heat engulfed you like a typhoon engulfing the mainland; it was overwhelming. You were imprisoned between the two supersoldiers and being forced into a slumber so violently it was like you were being smothered with a pillow. You let out a breathy whine as Bucky wrapped an arm around your torso.

"Hush, doll," Bucky cooed. "You're okay. Just close your eyes."

You fought some more, sluggishly flailing your arm and trying to bat away hands until Bucky had pinned you down, hugging your body flush to his. He crooned your name softly against your ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"You're alright, baby," he hushed. "Just relax, Stevie and I are right here. Just go to sleep, princess."

You didn't know if it was the drug or the cozy heat that radiated off of the supersoldiers—maybe it was both—but you drifted off soon after, your body feeling like maple syrup was running through your veins. Steve and Bucky watched as you settled down, your shoulders dropping as your breathing evened out.

"Is she asleep?" Bucky asked softly, lifting his head to look at Steve.

"Yeah, she passed out quick, I might've put too much of the sedative in her drink." Steve was on his side, arm under his pillow as he looked down at the girl curled against his chest.

"I told you, she isn't very big—half a dose would've done the job just fine."

"I just want her to be comfortable," Steve pouted, letting out a sigh. "She was so scared earlier. I just wanna show her she doesn't have'ta be afraid."

"It'll just take some time, Stevie," Bucky told him. "Soon enough, she'll see that this is what's best for her, I promise."

"Yeah." Steve paired with your hair, listening to your soft snores as silence filled the room.

Steve agreed with Bucky—it was too quiet down there. Apart from your small breaths, Steve could only hear the quiet buzz of silence. He thought about records he and Bucky could get you; you liked soft music—acoustic and folk/indie. You really liked an artist named Taylor Swift. Steve tried to ask Bucky if he knew who she was, but he didn't, so Steve ended up downloading her entire discography onto his phone—with Sam's help, who refuses to leave him alone about it. Steve actually liked a lot of her songs; he thought they suited you.

"Do you think it's too dark in here?" Bucky's low voice seemed to echo throughout the silent room.

Steve had been thinking the same thing. There was only a little night light plugged into the bathroom, so you had a little bit of guidance, but they'd have to get you another—maybe in the other room, if they got one bright enough. You were used to the city noise, the light seeping through the cracks of your blinds.

"Yeah," Steve whispered back. "We could get her another nightlight?"

Bucky hummed in response. "Maybe something that sits on her nightstand? It'd be a little brighter than a plug-in."

"Yeah, we'll look for something in the morning."

They stayed quiet for a while, both supersoldiers admiring you while you slept soundly between them. Steve ran his fingers through your hair while Bucky's traced shapes over your bare thigh under the blankets.

"This is perfect, Stevie," Bucky smiled, breaking the silence, reaching over you to grab Steve's hand.

Steve lulled in agreement, still watching the way your chest rose softly with your quiet breaths. "We waited so long for this, Buck, to have her here. She's gonna learn to love us, We just need to be patient."

"I just. . . she's right here, Steve. We're holding her and all I wanna do is fuck her until she can't think—but she's so scared. I don't wanna scare her."

"I know," Steve sighed. "But soon we won't have to control ourselves, she'll be begging for us soon enough."

Bucky had to stifle a groan just thinking about it — about how your little voice would sound begging for his cock, begging him to fuck you silly.

You shuffled between the two of them, letting out the smallest grunt as you readjusted. Bucky gripped your hip to still you, his thumb rubbing small circles into the divot of your hip. You stopped squirming, letting out a small huff before you relaxed.

"She's restless," Bucky noted quietly like he was talking to himself.

"Side effect of the sedative," Steve said. "We'll have to play around with the dosage. Maybe try half a dose tomorrow night, see if even that's too much."

Bucky nodded. "She'll need to eat more tomorrow, too. What she ate at dinner wasn't nearly enough."

"She had a big day," Steve countered. "She was hungover, for one. And she was a little shell-shocked, poor baby couldn't wrap her pretty head around all this."

Bucky huffed out a laugh as Steve grinned.

"I love you, Stevie."

"I love you too, Buck."

Your body protested the first time you woke up. Your senses were fuzzy, only half awake as you protested with a high pitched whine, curling in on yourself. You were so warm, so comfortable, it was lulling you back to sleep as you were struggling to wake.

"Shh, babygirl." There was a hand carding through your hair, drifting you back into slumber. "It's alright, go back to sleep."

You were too tired to actually comprehend the voice, or the hands in your hair and on your hip, running up and down your waist. You were too lagged to feel the two bodies crowding you between them, trapping you between their heat.

You drifted off again just as you felt the lingering touch of lips on your cheek.

The second time you awoke, you were much colder. Maybe that's why it was easier to open your eyes. It was pitch black in your room and for a moment you worried it was still the middle of the night—until you felt the bedsheets. It wasn't nighttime, there just weren't any windows in your prison. It could be noon and you wouldn't be able to tell.

You forced yourself into a sitting position, groaning when your head started to throb so violently you thought it was going to explode. You leaned forward to search for the edge of the bed, yelping as your hand never touched the mattress and you went toppling off the edge. You landed on the floor with a dull 'thump', pulling the covers down with you. You weren't able to catch yourself in time before your head smacked onto the floor.

"Fuck. . . ." you whimpered, shakingly bringing a hand up to your forehead. The lights flipped on, and two pairs of hands were on in less than a second.

"What happened, doll? Are you okay?" It was Bucky. His hands rested on your forearms as he pulled you up, cradling you to his chest. Steve's fingers grazed the bump that had started to form along your hairline and you winced, trying to escape the pain that jolted through your head. "C'mon babydoll, use your words."

"She hit her head," Steve said gently.

"M'fell," you grumbled, clutching at your temples.

"Why don't you let Stevie look at it, princess?" Bucky coaxed, hooking his finger under your chin and turning you to face Steve. You let out a high pitched whine in protest as you were forced out of the darkness the crook of Bucky's arm provided, your eyes closed as your head throbbed in the light. Bucky shushed you, his fingers running through your hair gingerly.

"She might have a concussion," Steve mumbled to himself, his thumb just barely grazing the contusion. "Nothing major."

You grumbled out a garbled response and burrowed your face back into the crook of Bucky's arm.

"No, baby, I need you to look at me."

When you refused to move your head, Bucky kissed your hair, whispering to you, "C'mon, precious. All you gotta do is look at Stevie for a little bit, then we'll turn the lights back off. Can you do that for us?"

You were quiet for a moment before you looked back up at Steve, cracking your eyes open. He smiled at you, sneaking a quick look at Bucky before he returned his focus to you. He holds his pointer finger up in front of your face and tells you to follow it with your eyes. He glided his finger to the left first, and your gaze followed until the appendix left your vision. He did the same thing to the right side. Your head was pulsating under your skull and you had to close your eyes, squeezing the bridge off your nose to alleviate some of the pressure.

"She has a small concussion," Steve confirmed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Nothing else we can do about it."

"Get off me," you scowled, shoving yourself out of Bucky's lap. You were shaky as you stood, tripping over yourself before you found your balance.

"We're just making sure you're okay, doll." Bucky grabbed Steve's hand to keep him from shouting at you.

"You're the reason I fell in the first place," you grumbled, scoffing as you rubbed your temples. They were the ones who brought you to this basement, it was their fault you couldn't find the edge of the bed when it was so god damn dark.

"What'd you say, sweetheart?"

"Let it go, Steve," Bucky pleaded. Steve didn't listen.

You didn't have time to even blink before he was on you, hand gripping your jaw tightly and shoving you against the wall.

You winced when the back of your head collided with the wall, his fingers digging into your jawline.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" he scowled.

A whimper escaped your lips, your small fingers wrapping around his large wrist.

"St—stop."

"Last chance, Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you squeaked. "I—I didn't mean it. . . I'm sorry."

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling like he was physically restraining himself, and stepped back. He let go of you and you gasped for breath, doubling over and wheezing.

"I'm not gonna tell you again," Steve glowered. "We won't tolerate your attitude. That was your last warning."

You nodded furiously, tears welling in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

"Get dressed," Steve ordered, motioning for Bucky to stand up. "We'll be back down with breakfast in a few minutes."

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

#kung lao #mk kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #kiss #romance #fluff #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #kung lao x you #kung lao/reader #kung lao/you #max huang #ludi lin #angst

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

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Standards of Performance, Chapter 12: What Happens in Alleyways

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Sorry it's a lil short, it's more of a transition chapter to actually jumping into this case and Reader's now even more confusing "relationship" with Hotch. Things get kinkier and angrier and more explicit from here, but I'll do my best to tag stuff. Thanks for your patience as always, guys, especially amidst the dumpster fire that is current events right now <3 Your reblogs and tags slay me and I love it.

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Turns out, the world doesn't stop on its axis just because you had sex with your boss. You’re unsure whether or not that’s a good thing.

Words: 1,882

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Violence, dark themes, explicit sexual content. More specific warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You awoke to the dim light of the dawn, rain gently pattering on the windows, and the blaring sound of Hotch’s ringtone three feet from your face.

“Jesus christ, old man,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open, “turn your hearing aids up.”

Already sitting up in bed, he paused with the phone halfway to his ear.

Shit. You were being too casual - waking up in his bed, joking with him. Acting like you belonged there. You didn’t know how he felt about what happened, for all you knew he regretted every second and-

“You’re paying for that later,” he smiled before answering the call.

The playful threat filled you with relief before it made your stomach flip, and the memories of last night came flooding back. His body, his eyes, his hands all burned inside your eyelids as if you’d been staring directly at the sun. You’d never been in this situation before - waking up next to someone you’d spent the night with and desperately hoping it was the first time rather than the last. But you’d also never felt your body sing with the white-hot pleasure it did when it was touched by the seemingly unattainable man who did so last night, so. There was that.

The low rumble of his voice brought you back to the present, and you looked up at his face to find it was twisted up in concentration, resignation, and something else.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, standing up swiftly and pulling his work clothes on with practiced speed. “Don’t let anyone touch anything.”

He shoved his phone in his suit pocket and looked at you, still tangled up in his sheets.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs,” he said, terse. “There’s a body in the alley outside the building.”

“Outside this building?”

“Yes,” he responded, “and there’s a note.”

As he swept out the door, leaving you reeling, you realized what the other expression on his face was. Fear.

***

Hotch had gotten ready and exited the apartment before you had even processed the situation, and your mind was racing a mile a minute as you flung yourself out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. The logical assumption, of course, was that the stalker had left the body. People didn’t just end up dead in alleyways in this part of town, and certainly not in the middle of a rainstorm mere floors from where the BAU Unit Chief slept - not without a reason.

You threw on your coat and boots, forgoing contacts and makeup in favor of your glasses and a hat to cover the tangled mess last night’s tryst had made of your hair. Without even pausing to look in a mirror, you scurried down the stairwell and exited the lobby into the cold October wind.

It was easy to tell which alley the body occupied - there were an excess of thirty people milling in and out of the space to the right of the building. Crime scene investigators, policemen, and other personnel talked in hushed voices. You spotted a clearing in the sea of people and knew that’s where the victim would be, given a wide berth per Hotch’s instruction.

The team hung out at the edge of the circle watching Reid, who was kneeling in front of the body slumped against the side of the apartment building. Moving closer, you could tell he was in the middle of one of his spiels, gesturing wildly while the everyone nodded along. You joined the group that had formed around him and caught the middle of what seemed to be a hypothesis about victimology.

“ -no patterns, obviously, but if we assume similar characteristics would be present in all his victims, it’s hard to discern what statement he could be making. Positing a male in his mid-to-late twenties is statistically most likely, but stalkers of this age group also frequently have some sort of sexual motivation, and if the autopsy is consistent with what we can observe now,” he gestured to the body, “I don’t think that’s the case here.”

Throughout his speech, you’d been scrutinizing the victim - a brunette women who looked to be no older than 20, arranged in a half-sitting position against the wall behind her. There was no blood anywhere you could see, in fact, she barely looked dead at all, likely thanks to the below-freezing temperatures last night that had put a pause on the early stages of decomposition. Pinned to her shirt was a white envelope that bore an ominous message in bold, black ink:

“For my friends at the BAU.”

Not hard to guess who had killed this woman.

“Can you determine cause of death, Spence?” Prentiss asked, her arms folded.

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess…” he used his pen to push the victim’s hair to the side, exposing a neck mottled with stark blue bruises.

“Anger, then,” you offered, speaking to the psychological drivers behind strangulation, “but I doubt we’ll find any sign of sexual assault. The unsub made it clear that his disdain is directed towards us; it’s not likely that would extend to his victim.”

The rest of the team nodded in thought, but Hotch looked at you in surprise, as if just noticing your presence. As his eyes glued on yours, his face changed, and he grabbed your arm in an unpleasantly tight grip.

“Open the note. I’ll just be a moment.”

Unaware of his boss’ sudden change in demeanor and the vice on your elbow, Morgan gloved up and reached for the envelope. Hotch, meanwhile, unceremoniously dragged you down the alleyway and around to the deserted back side of the building.

“What the hell?” you hissed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

“Did you fail to look in a mirror before you came down here?” Hotch’s narrowed stare betrayed nothing but contempt, and you scrambled to determine the implication of his question.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to take a shower before looking at the dead body? I did the best I could, it seemed urgent -”

“No,” he snapped, “I’m referring to the fact that your neck looks worse off than our victim’s does.”

You processed his words for a moment before the implication hit you.

“Are you talking about the hickies?! Christ, Hotch, I’ll get a scarf then. Just give me a second!”

“Please do. I’d like my agents to appear professional, not like they’re college kids coming off a one night stand.”

His words halted your stomp back into the building, and you turned back, furious.

“You put them there! How is this my fault?”

“I didn’t think I would have to be this explicit about the fact that I don’t want the fact that we had sex last night broadcast to everyone at the crime scene.”

You gaped at him in disbelief.

“Are you embarrassed or something? I’m sorry if you regret what happened, but you don’t need to lash out at me like this -”

“I’m not lashing out,” he interrupted, “I’m informing you of my expectations for my agents. Is there a problem?”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to smack that perfectly raised eyebrow and controlled expression right off his face. But he was boxing you in - speaking to you as your boss and not the man you slept with last night, and as much as you hated him for it, your sense of self-preservation won out.

“There’s no problem,” you mumbled, unable to make eye contact as you slipped past him and around the building.

You made it halfway up the stairwell before the tears started flowing. Had you really thought sleeping with him was going to change something? That he was going to ask you to be his fucking girlfriend, like he wasn’t the chief of your unit and you weren’t a twenty-something intern? For all you knew, he did this all the time. His level of skill in the area certainly made it seem like he did.

That wasn’t true, though, you knew it. He may not reveal much, but you could tell it had been a fraught decision to let your relationship develop the way it had. Perhaps even a decision he regretted now - and it certainly seemed so, given his behavior.

Wiping tears on your sleeve, you fumbled with the spare key he’d given you to his apartment and walked in. You glanced in the mirror by the entrance and your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. Hotch wasn’t exaggerating when he likened the marks to strangulation - indigo smudges, still peppered with the angry red of burst capillaries, circled your throat.

It was a juvenile, possessive, ridiculous display, and Hotch was absolutely right to label it unprofessional. And yet, the thought that you’d walked onto the scene bearing the marks he’d given you filled you with a thrill so intense you had to brace yourself against the entryway table and clamp your legs together.

Breathe. There’s still a fucking murder scene downstairs.

You steadied yourself and headed for your duffel bag, where you’d thankfully packed a scarf in preparation for the cold snap that was predicted to hit the state this week. Midway through unzipping your bag, though, your eyes landed on his dresser and the devil sitting on your shoulder, buzzing with a deadly combination of anger and arousal, whispered a terrible, reckless idea in your ear.

***

You practically skipped downstairs to rejoin the team, who appeared to be engaged in a lively debate about the contents of the envelope Morgan was holding. After gloving up, you reached out a hand towards him.

“Can I read it?”

He handed it over, distracted by another stream of consciousness from Reid. Hotch took note of your return and glanced in your direction before turning back to the conversation.

You pretended to read the note and waited for him to notice.

You waited all of three seconds.

He whipped his head back so comically fast you struggled to suppress a snort, and you knew exactly what he was looking at. A midnight blue cashmere scarf, nicked from his dresser and wrapped artfully around your neck to cover the bruises, just like he’d asked. The first compliment you’d ever paid him was in regards to this scarf; tentatively whispered when he’d worn it to a chilly 2 am crime scene. He’d accepted the compliment passively, but the optimistic part of you had noted that he seemed to wear it much more frequently after that.

You weren’t entirely sure what statement you were intending to make by wearing it, but his reaction told you you’d certainly succeeded at provoking something.

Morgan reached back out for the note you were still pretending to read and dropped it in an evidence bag. If he noticed Hotch steaming from the ears next to you, he didn’t say so.

“They’re ready to pack everything up and head back to the lab. Let’s meet ‘em there?”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and headed back to the SUVs.

“You riding with me?” Morgan asked, nudging your ribs with an elbow.

“No,” Hotch answered for you, an unseen hand suddenly gripping the back of your neck. “She’s not.”

Taglist (message me to be added!): @klinenovakwinchester @stop-drop-and-drumroll @cevanswhre @addie5264 @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice @itsmytimetoodream @groovygoob @captainhyenafan @thebadassbitchqueen @softboystyles @witchcraftandwit @call-me-mrsreid @ssahoodrathotchner @fanficscuziranout @rintheemolion @scrumptiousroadponymoney @iconicc @thelux47 @bellaswanismysoulmate @possum-pancakes @sweatydiplomatshepherdzine @spencers-hoodrat @totalmess191 @sunshine-and-riverwater @sunflowersandotherthings @chelseyjoyce @helloladyvanilla @mac99martin

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bogusavathepit · 3 years

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Rosalie Hale--Why She’s a Feminist & Queer Icon. [CW: SA]

In this Twilight Renaissance we have, many women and queer people (many of them and frequently, white and not absolutely all) love Rosalie Hale. And I think it’s because Rosalie represents a the struggle with one’s identity in a patriarchal society when one isn’t a man and/or doesn’t conform well enough to gender ideals, even when it seems like that is all she is-> the ideal woman.

(This is essay-like. You have been warned.)

Why Women/Queer People Love Rosalie

From a young age, she’s learned to base her value and womanhood on her appearance.

Others have used her for their own ends, including the Cullens without her consent.

She takes an assertive and violent measure against the men who have denied and hurt her. She chooses to do in a very “unlady-like” manner, expressing the pain Edward seems to prefer she’d suppress and ignore rather than actively express. She chose an independent, active doling out of justice over the self-restrictive, passive “peace” that we learn women should do to have respect, approval and support from their peers.

She was, at one point, compelled to conform to others’ expectations and desires.

As a vampire, she’s vilified in the books for not going along with others’ demands despite the fact no one seems to try to ask what she wants.

She’s appears to be have some deep self-doubt. Edward, Carlisle, and Emmett have all have her feel as if her looks were what made her important. And yet, Edward and Emmett , at one point, both made her fear that her looks don’t hold any meaning for her anymore. And she depends on her looks for everything. Because in sinister, silent ways she was partially compelled so.

Meyer seems to use Rosalie as an tool herself when she punishes Rosalie for being shallow because she got everything she needed practically and nothing substantial/long-term emotionally.

Despite all this, Edward does have a tendency to think of her as more spoilt than she is just a spoiled girl. I would say she defintely is spoiled, but she is not simple.

Rosalie’s Human Past & Her Self Worth

We learn two things about pre-Royce, human Rosalie:

1. From the get-go, Rosalie learned to evaluate a person’s worth shallowly:

a person’s worth is their social status/place in the social hierarchy

her worth comes from others’ estimation of her

her social status comes from her looks

her looks determine her worth

2. She didn’t seem to pay that much attention to how others lived in abject poverty outside of her very fortunate, white, “middle-classed” family and insular middle-classed community during the Great Depression.

She didn’t have to think about others, and she wasn’t encouraged to so do, so she didn’t.

Which wouldn’t make me or any non white person like her, but I can contextualize her and adjust without giving self-serving, ignorant white people an out.

So, talking now about human Rosalie’s Royce King-era, her social-climbing parents have it made! Here’s a man that will connect them to the upper classes and give them prestige, and they didn’t even have to verbally hint at him to consider Rosalie to him--he asked for her hand. (Though they did indirectly encouraged her to “pretty” herself up by exposing her hair when she went out and could be noticed by Royce and other wealthy men...but mostly Royce. Yes, they metaphorically used her as bait, folks.)

Though it doesn’t seem like anyone asked for her thoughts about Royce, Rosalie isn’t disappointed or defiant either because:

she was 18....18 year olds (and the rest of us) love hotties

he supposedly is considered handsome and that is what she considered/learned is important

she doesn’t have to clean or cook in the house she wants (I suspect because that’s work for the servants)

she already feels she’s entitled to such a “fortune”-- because she’s a beautiful (white) woman who’s been told that her beauty makes her the GOAT (I exaggerate a little, but I have to find fun when I can, loves.)

I have considered that I’m am making her seem like a basic, boring, maybe even unappealing without giving her credit or diminishing her own choice in all of this.

But I think that Rosalie did not feel the need to protest against an arranged marriage with a man she only glancingly knew because she saw this particular marriage as something good for her, as well as marriage being in of itself inevitable. _Because that was what happened in the 30s.for people in her class.) She might as well look to have the “best” marriage possible. Similar to how people look to obtain the best job/position/deal possible.

She also saw the marriage prospect with Royce as beneficial and unproblematic because:

this is the middle and upper classes of the 30s--marriages like this weren’t how the entire U.S. population got married--but amongst the classes, it occurred more often than not in the middle and upper classes

in her meager 18 years as a human she has learned to value the 3 points above

she was so young and sheltered-->as a person who is part of a larger society that doesn’t encourages, rather discourages her from the world apart form this smaller community (b/c they’re racist snobs), she’d likely not understand her own worth and self outside of privileged domesticity the community promises its denizens--->attitude: if it’s not (clearly) broken, don’t fix it

also, even though she doesn’t have to work for her economic security now either as a newlywed 18 year old/a young unmarried girl, I think she also would have known that as a wife she would adopt the duties that come with being an upper middle classed, white wife and have done some sort of labor that was valuable to her husband: directing the servants; looking presentable at all times; entertaining guests at parties and any other social gathering--casual or otherwise; making sure the children were always healthy and presentable; and generally not acting against her husband’s image/professional/public interests (which is vaguely & generally understood to be stay quiet and busy out of official business)

Finally, Rosalie said in Eclipse that she was in love with the idea of love.

Love to her was/is within the domestic and that particular domestic vision she is familiar with is the one that her white, middle-to-upper-classed community has realized.

Rosalie’s Vampire Past (Before Bella and Forks) & Her Self Worth

Carlisle stumbles on her raped body.

He decides to bring her back to the Cullen cave and to turn her, knowing about her life from the Cullens’ mild engagement and proximity to her community, feeling sorry for her, and deciding to give her a second chance at life.

But, as both Eclipse and Midnight Sun reveal, he also had a tiny, miniscule idea that she’d could be a possible romantic partner for Edward. A small, errant thought rather than a devoted hope.

But Edward says, “Nooo-Ooh Ma’am!, Fuck this noise” and flat out rejects her and the very idea of being intimate with her.

This is very offensive to Rosalie because:

Vampire Rosalie is the result of Carlisle’s good heart, BUT I can see Rosalie feeling that he also saw her as something Edward can “enjoy” or find solace and emotional satisfaction with.

So here is another arrangement that-- while more romance-inclined--is still an arrangement that considers, prioritizes, and centers around the man’s satisfaction (Edward’s) over the woman’s (Rosalie’s) needs or desires and without asking for her input. Similar to the Royce situation.

But it’s still complicated because even though Rosalie could have been annoyed or frustrated with this unconsciously, she would consciously feel both surprised and grateful that Carlisle thought to change her at all, saved her, arranged a love match for her, and try to assure her happiness even if she wasn’t the primary person he was doing it for.

It was the 30s, Rosalie has just been made a vampire, and her background/past community has made her understand that arranged love/marriage matches are the norm--even perhaps the best way to get people together.

It would be familiar and comforting to her enough for her to maybe ignore or forgo the annoyance she feels and Carlisle’s semi-non-Rosalie-centric reasoning even though she may have unconsciously felt it being a bit unfair.

In her newborn-30s perspective, the arrangement might have been a way of compensation and security (maybe Carlisle might have noticed something like this about her and wanted her vamp life to be as comfortable as possible......maybe?), similar to the sense of security that the arranged marriage with Royce/men was socially a way for her/women to gain economic and emotional security for the rest of her/their lives.

If she was unconsciously feeling like she was a means to another’s happiness more than her own, I think that she wouldn’t have seen it as someone taking away her independence or autonomy.

Instead, she might have seen it as an authority figure giving her direction that she needs for this disorienting time of her vamp life: having a throat that won’t stop hurting, instincts going haywire, and seeing herself look both like herself yet drastically not even though she says she was satisfied with them. There might have been some disconcertion with her looks then, as well as some comfort.

I am not sure what her relationship with Esme is like, but I suspect that they didn’t hit it off immediately and that Esme--very satisfied and settled in her vamp life and though the only other woman--wouldn’t have looked reassuring to Rosalie who had a lot of difficulty. And the way Meyer handles the story (what was that dynamic like, we’ll never get to see it it seems, smh) that emotional distance continued into the present.

If Edward (the person who she was made for by the leader of the new social group she finds herself in) doesn’t like her looks or isn’t attracted to her (even seemingly disgusted by her) then Rosalie’s sense of her worth is shot further and her very identity and self worth is in doubt. Because her sheltered privileged human life set her up to see her “self” as predominantly desirable to most if not all. An object.

At this point I’m repeating myself but I found that this is necessary for memory and resisting against sexists’ validation, so....

Rosalie doesn’t really come first to dislike Edward personally until he denies her worth by rejecting her status/being as an irrefutably, universally recognized object of desire.

Her sense of worth is shot even further or it gets worse. Whatever attraction to his looks she may have had goes away like lint in the wind.

And it matters because she becomes lonelier after this, which is definitely not what she needs or wants.

Rosalie didn’t even...

the Cullens when she was human.

She was fine with them being outsiders because she didn’t like that “even” (quoted from Eclipse) the men were more beautiful than her.

Because their ultra vampiric beauty made them winners of/competitors for the general public’s favor/attention/approval.

For one of the beautiful outsiders to reject her is a bit too surreal and intimidating for her--she’s confronted with the reality where she isn’t universally, sexually desired (not even a little) and thus not valued at all.

Rosalie is totally alone without Emmett and she would have been completely alone before she turned him if she left the Cullens. I imagine that after going through an ordeal like rape PLUS the fact that as a vampire she wouldn’t be able to totally let go of her trauma, she’d not want to leave the Cullens to become a nomad.

The Cullens are her new, “insulated” social group that replaces her old one....but part of the hope Carlisle has for her and Edward doesn’t set Rose up to completely feel assured that she’s there for more than her looks.

Going back to Carlisle and the value of the proposed RosaliexEdward to Rosalie....

If vampires in Twilight derive a lot of their emotional satisfaction and happiness from their romantic partners in the face of the dreary, never-ending immortal monotony of vampire life, especially with Rosalie losing a life she treasured and also never really got to live.......

and you are then compensated by being set up with a person who dislikes you....

the one means toward happiness or contentment has been denied to you before you could even reject it (cuz I truly think she would have rejected Edward)....

Aren’t you then at risk of facing a gradually horrible, wide-reaching loneliness coupled with the invalidation of identity which make you just feel that more hopeless in the hopelessness of vampire monotony?

Rosalie--as an 18 year old who hadn’t been married yet--was used to her beauty giving her benefits from others without real effort on her part.

She was and is emotionally dependent on it and her identity is tied to it. So was her happiness in a way, but as a human, there was potential for change, as she may have saw it later as a vampire.

Here’s what @panlight had to say about the way the books showed Vampire Rosalie:

Her beauty is written about in a way that it makes other people feel bad about themselves, and Edward calls her shallow and SM makes little jokes about Rosalie fussing over her hair all the time and it's like, maybe it's not shallow vanity? Maybe it's the trauma? She was beautiful as a human and she's still beautiful now, maybe she clings to it because it IS a part of her human idenitity in a way. Maybe she fusses over her hair because unlike her skin and eyes and facial features, it's basically the same as when she was human.

So, the vampire life didn’t start out well for her.

And what does Emmett mean to Rosalie? What is the integrity of their relationship?

Well, it’s complicated:

Rosalie finds Emmett while she’s hunting not long after her newborn year, and she had to go through the trial of resisting the urge to drain his bloody body. (Really, a trial that any vegetarian/”moral” vampire will eventually struggle to do.)

Emmett is a part of her support system, as well as part of her emotional compensation for her hurt and all that she has lost: a human future with a family of her own.

However, he could be said to also be a hook that will forever keep her within her own unhappiness with being a vampire. Very much like how someone might interpret how children are for many women who become mothers. Which seems unfair to both Emmett and Rose to me.

Explanation

When Rosalie found and ran with Emmett so Carlisle could save him, she was able to control herself by ignoring her own still-overwhelming instincts. With how difficult it is for the ordinary human-feeding vampire, much less an older animal-drinker, her self control was maintained despite bloody Emmett being tat close to her face for that long. She was also in some emotional turbulence--with Edward avoiding her, Esme focusing more on Carlisle and Edward, and Carlisle doing his best and having saved her (making her grateful) but also being the person who made it possible for her to experience her loss with the part-hope (no matter how small) of seeing her partnered up with someone who doesn’t like her (Edward). A lot of inner confliction (but not about her killing Royce, that I imagine she’s very satisfied with.)

With all that inner turmoil, it’d be even harder for her concentrate on restraining herself.

But she won against her instincts--a triumph. Emmett’s existence thus gave her a positive, self-sufficient sense of self, which she probably unconsciously needed at that time.

Rosalie feels as if she chose Emmett, which gives her another sense of control. Her parents chose Royce for her AND that didn’t work towards her favor, so I imagine that Rosalie is more insistent on doing things her way when it’s about her emotional security and comfort...because duh.

Also, she, a woman, chose a man to be close to her, instead of her father, Royce, and all other male external parties deciding things for her just in general.

However, with Emmett--her forever-lover as vampires don’t change--we find that her worth and happiness is still wound up with her looks. And there’s two ways this can go.

A) Emmett’s attraction to her seems to stem mostly from her beauty, as she and Meyer tells us. Emmett would most likely not have paid her any attention aside from the gratitude for saving his life if she hadn’t been beautiful. If 100% true or proven without a doubt, I imagine that it would open up more doubt that doesn’t go away, even though/especially because they’re together forever: is it real, this love?

If it’s not a conscious concern, I doubt that someone wouldn’t have this at the back of their mind. And with Rosalie’s need for more control

B) Rosalie has learned to appreciate her looks apart from how others define them or pigeonhole them into being something that works for their own interests. It also helps to resist the sense that she somehow “deserved” her rape or somehow “invited“ it just by being beautiful.

Nor is it that Rosalie is somehow stupid or philosophically in error for relying on the same principles of white female beauty that has “obviously” made it so that she, as a woman, always loses. Because sometimes we place fault on a woman for focusing even more on her appearance after being sexually attacked-- “don’t you know that you getting attention made you a victim, why would you continue putting makeup on and dressing like a slut?”

Even though a patriarchal society does place a woman’s inherent value on her appearance, it appears that Rosalie has found some happiness by styling and paying even more attention to her hair, clothes, etc.-- her looks and appearance are now more within her own standards and control.

Though her looks have changed to be paler and sharper, her cheekbones, jawline, weight, etc. all resemble her human self’s. It serves to make her feel more connected to her human life/self/past, comforting her and making her feel whole-r. Her human past--before the rape and before Emmett--was her happiest and the most fulfilled despite the things she didn’t know heavily made her the shallow princess she was.

And after a short but happier lifetime like hers where she generated self-worth through her looks, is it not her looks where she would fall back on? We find happiness in the places that is most familiar.

She may also look at Emmett loving her looks as him appreciating that what she remembers to be a part of herself, or helping her to.

She also has a determination to not let her rape deter her from loving sex and intimacy, as we see her consistently sexing Emmett up--pretty quickly after he was turned.

@panlight writes:

There's so much about Rosalie that could be framed as strength and resilience and taking power back that is instead always framed in the most negative way to make her a vain brat.

Her sex life with Emmett is the butt of jokes rather than being a testament to the work she must have done and what a supportive partner Emmett must be for her to be so comfortable after her horrific experiences.

Her frequent weddings are written off as her being showy and vain rather than her wanting to celebrate the one thing she genuinely likes about the vampire life she never wanted: her love story with Emmett.

Rosalie loving Emmett and wanting to marry him several times and her consistently taking care of her hair or styling it don’t have to necessarily be signs of her superficial vanity or wanting everyone to feel lesser than her.

Rosalie could also look to Emmett as her way of loving romance again, loving herself, or just hating herself less than if she did without him.

Rosalie was a sexual assault victim. Having loads of sex with the very eager Emmett seems to be her way of silently defying the sense that she is spoiled goods.

SA victims can have trouble with:

having sexual pleasure

having their communities perceive and treat them as “damaged goods” or delicate and weak

or be treated as if their assault was entirely their fault for being “too available”

or have people treat them as a person who has too much “baggage” to deal with and thus be not worth deep communication or emotional support

Oftentimes, people and institutions treat rape and sexual assault victims as if they lost their attractiveness or value because the ideas are that:

they have been “taken”

they aren’t considered virgins anymore

and their bodies have been “trespassed”--thus their value/attractiveness depreciates.

A) Virginity as a social concept, in several patriarchal and hierarchal societies was a means of assuring that the woman hasn’t given birth to a child that is not the offspring of her male partner and thus could “steal” the family property. Or their actual father has access to the woman’s male partner/property holder and is thus another competitor of his authority.

Men were the legal and universally known inheritors of property and sociopolitical leadership in places like England, pretty much from medieval era to at least the late 1800s. The woman as the object of desire was so desired by the inheritor and those under their authority because she/her womb was the means to getting children that could inherit and continue the family legacy/property claim.

Thus the “illicitly” devirginized sex assault victim’s value plummets to nothing, even when they obviously didn’t consent to it.

B) And today in the 2000s, though virginity may not be about literal property and money since women can get property for themselves and by themselves, enough social groups and individuals do still find virginity to be a good or necessary thing.

Considered “good” even today for:

the personal sense of ownership/claim over their partner’s experiences/body

to claim to be “clean”, “pure” and “untouched”--appeal to others who may desire the virgin in question--declaim the still demonized “slut” whose body has been places (virgins can’t be sluts)

So virginity takes a away agency and a possible sense of a women/queer person’s value apart from their more from-birth/“natural” bodies.

Such ideas and prejudices disproportionately affect women and queer people.

They do affect cis straight men in that some women will like that their male partners are virgins, but:

those men don’t get the virginity pressure as much since they also are the takers of virginity--the active ones, the go-getters of our capitalist patriarchal society. Men/masc people ideologically still have the saving grace of being the directors of others, or being the default authority.

some women desire male virgins in order to feel less vulnerable to the dynamic of virginity as sexual objects--when men are virgins, ironically, they become the object of desire/sexual object/the object that is judged by another, which is the reverse of the usual woman-is-sexual-object dynamic

There is also the inheritance from ancient Roman ideas/practices of sexuality where the ones penetrating their partners were defined as citizens (not just men, I mean political citizens) and were legally designated to be the political leaders/participants. The ones penetrated were male slaves and male sex workers and all/any women--those with no legal political power. If a noble Roman man were sexually penetrated by another man of any position, it generally diminished his own political valence.

Women and queer folks who may femininely present are seen as the affected ones--the ones that others’ actions are done to and aren’t encouraged to take leadership positions. If the gender-bias and homophobia against women and queer people in the workplace has anything to say about it.

C) Virginity, though it is attached to men’s bodies today, also still retains the idea of the body’s purity/attractiveness. Men’s attractiveness hasn’t stemmed from their body’s sexual purity as long as the way women has always have in many Western societies.

The longer something exists the more normal it is and becomes.

Cis, straight male/masculine-presenting sexual assault victims also get the “But you’re a dude/so masculine, so how couldn’t you stop it?” or “It wasn’t rape, you’re a guy/masc. it doesn’t count!” dismissiveness. This is clearly problematic because it both makes men/masc. persons unable to have easily access healing resources or sympathy since they are seen as undeserving of those things. It also encourages them to perceive themselves as failures; they feel like they didn’t perform their socially-contrived masculinities as being the active aggressor.

It is another way to victim blame, but that sort of blaming is subtly different from the victim blaming a woman/queer/feminine-presenting person gets.

Virginity is a concept that is supposed to be an appeal for the designated inheritor of privilege/authority differently than it would be for the virgin in question. Though the virgin will likely learn to value their virginity for the access it gives them to those want ownership over their bodies, it doesn’t discount that those who want their bodies for their own political authority perceive that virgin as a means for political authority and will continue to believe and treat that virgin as an object geared towards their benefit alone.

Who does the cis, straight man’s virginity appeal to (other than the women who feel more empowered by sleeping with virgin men)? Other cis, straight men, the claimed “takers” who aren’t supposed to value other men’s untouchedness?

When I mentioned male/masc. assault victims’ victim-blaming above, those who said those things to those people will likely not consider the integrity of their virginity as much as the integrity of their masculinity and authority.

Masculinity, as its own concept as the more authoritative thing, isn’t as tied to virginity as femininity is.

Rosalie thought Emmett was attractive when she saved him because, as she told Edward and Bella, she saw “innocence” and “honesty” (Midnight Sun) in him, AND something she saw reflected in her human friend’s baby (Eclipse). Rosalie needs such things because she may be plagued with self doubt, but also because Emmett reminds her of her human life.

Emmett, in this view, would be her kind of saving grace and haven. He doesn’t demand she do or be anything other than what she wants to give or be, which is both a reprieve from Edward’s/society’s censure and presents itself a fault in the story Meyer creates since Emmett likes her looks a lot more that he seems to like her personality.

Emmett could also be a kind of “innocent”, similar to the situation I brought up about male virgins and their female partners: that some women may feel more empowered when they encounter a male virgin because the roles are reversed and they can act out the “active” position. Human Emmett may or may not have been a virgin, but he does take on that “innocent” role--at least how how he doesn’t have a complex or demanding personality.

By personality, he is very straightforward, upfront, and “honest”: he doesn’t pretend to have ulterior motives or hypocritical notions of protecting or looking out for her for her own interest but is really looking to control her and thus looking to make excuses for his behavior.

[*See below about Rosalie and Motherhood.]

Essentially, Rosalie can be read to be empowered by, forced to be content with, or has her life wrapped around Emmett’s existence.

Like a baby or a small child (and with her higher social status), Emmett provides her with the sense that she’s more than “herself” and that her prior notion and love for the idea of love has continued into her unfulfilling vampire life.

Rosalie and Jasper

If we are to argue that Rosalie still seems like she’s too emotionally dependent on Emmett for it to be a case of her actually healthily recovering or winning over her rape, then I must bring up Jasper’s reliance on Alice.

Rosalie and Jasper are similar in that Jasper also looks to Alice as a kind of emotional support system and to counteract how vampire life has either treated them. However, Jasper’s bond with Alice comes to his inability to keep feeding on humans--due to his unswitchable gift that makes him feel everything that people feel as they’re feeling it--and simultaneously not feel...depressed. Which means that he literally felt the pain/fear of his victims as he hunted them. Like other vampires, the thought of hunting animals never crossed his mind (and apparently he can’t feel animals’ emotions.)

Alice provided him access to the Cullens (veggie lifestyle) as well as the means of self control as she can predict if/when he’ll lose control before he actually does so he can either prepare or leave ASAP.

But neither of these reasons don’t really explain how he truly fell in love with her or how she fell in love with him. They are more about Alice being the person monitoring Jasper, unlike Rosalie doing things her way and looking to Emmett for romance and love. Jasper seems way more emotionally dependent on Alice than Rose is on Emmett.

Meyer/Edward tells us that Jasper and Alice fell in love in a “mystical” sort of way, as opposed to Rosalie and Emmett’s more “physical” love. As if the two got together due to the universe’s non-understandable powers (and Alice’s future-telling power) brought the unlikeliest of partners together because they needed to be brought together. As if the two are soulmates....

This just seems like an excuse to have the two together in a romantic relationship. Alice doesn’t need to be romantically tied to Jasper for her to help him out. Plus the set-up makes Alice the authority and keeper of Jasper in a way that is more parental than partner.

I assume that since Meyer set up vampires as generally not being friendly and sometimes getting violent in first-time encounters (and Jasper was already made worse by being in a newborn army) that she felt that her lore only allowed vampires who are romantically/sexually attracted to each other have a chance at actually wanting to “help” each other out emotionally.

Rosalie and Motherhood/Children

Before she becomes a vampire, Rosalie realized that she wanted children. And after she becomes a vampire, the desire turns into a painful yearning that makes her value her looks even more.

As a human, Rosalie felt a deep envy (as opposed to just jealousy) for the first time when she saw how happy her less attractive friend was with her lower- classed husband and baby son. Specifically the child. Rosalie felt that her life was missing something afterwards, something that she felt would give her own life new meaning. And that was a child.

Why?

Because children love/need/want you for you, not because you’re pretty.

You have a lot of authority over a child more than a child has over you.

Maybe both; in different circumstances and emotional/psychological states/periods of life and development. and even then it varies in which way the feelings lean.

(Check out Section C below for explanation.)

Rosalie thought that she can get this with Royce, because she had no reason to think Royce wouldn’t at least let their children be near her for her to love and take care of.

Besides, what else would she do to get children? She hasn’t learned of any other possible avenue where she would get what she wants without marriage, and if she did, she’d:

have to have a more ingenious (out-of-the-box, inventive) mindset to pair with her “tenacity” and admiratively stubborn determination

not care about her status and determine her self worth on her own

have lived in a society that had a strong hand in guiding her to believe in looks-are-everything, which discouraged her from thinking outside the box

Which, looking at what she’s up against (her own learning and lack of personal resources), would discourage a lot of folks and could have done to her, which in turn makes her not think outside of the box (in a real-life scenario).

If you got a comfy life, you’d take the road more traveled.

Meyer seems to want us to see Rosalie wanting children as her one redeeming quality, or at least the only thing that will give her true happiness. But those are two different things trying to be the same or yielding the same ends.

If we posit that Rosalie wanting kids redeems her shallowness, we ignore that she hasn’t had much control over what happened to her all her life and that that shallowness isn’t completely self-generated but was encouraged.

She isn’t different from most people from any era in that she just goes along with the rest of society to live comfortably. People be people, and women aren’t different from that aspect.

Though some would say that also makes her a boring person and a flat character, I’d say:

not every character has be a sort of hero that strives to be “the best” by being “different”--Emmett and Esme aren’t remarkable except for physical strength or being able to love without conditions--sometimes having a “normal” person is refreshing...I personally don’t go for that most of the time, but I also appreciate “real” people because that is real and something I can relate to, which itself is valuable

take that up with society and Meyer instead of Rosalie and either real-life or fictional women

people do this a lot in some capacity and in many circumstances. The world is filled of shallow people and people, shallow or not, make the easier choice often. No one is exempt from that. Rosalie isn’t particularly distinct in that, so how could she be evil for it?

why wouldn’t there be at least one vain and shallow, or very basic person who’d nonetheless celebrated from being a pretty white girl in a drama like Twilight? Our society eats that shit up.

If we posit that having children is how she can gain authentic happiness and is the means of which she can find solace in her meaningless life, then we must look at how reproduction and woman’s worth were and are considered as one and the same for millennia in Western European societies.

Family planning was a complicated business for everyone involved, but for women it easily became a heavier burden and a need, which turns it into even more of a load rather than a possible blessing. Or a confliction of both where a mother doesn’t really know what to consider her children--a gift or a burden? Both?

And with the fact that Western EU standards of femininity/womanhood and its unequivocal ties to a woman’s social and individual worth have informed and shaped how many of us see women, I don’t think anyone could logically claim that the U.S. and other past-colonized/”imperialized”/gender/class/race-based hierarchical societies aren’t living with the consequences of such ideologies.

I do think that canon poses Rosalie’s desire for children to ultimately come down to her needing to feel like someone loves/values her for just anything else but her looks. With kids, she’d have a non appearance-based & authoritative (but not purely autonomous) avenue of self worth.

I do also believe that canon Rosalie sincerely wanted to have children for themselves/her personal happiness. The ability to have kids was taken from her, so she now covets and desires something that she should have had but she would have never been able to get without a great personal cost.

Emmett sure does act childish and he is a good stand in, but he isn’t Rosalie’s own physical child that she could have an undeniable/permanent sort of bond she could have as a mother does to her child. As she’s learned to see the parent-child bond.

A child that she is responsible for making sure they grow happy, healthy, safe, and self-sufficient.

A paradox.

Part of how a person estimates their own worth is how they’re legally/politically/economically positioned in society and how others treat them early on in their childhood and further on in their lives.

Rosalie didn’t have the personal means to support herself--short of running away with thousands of her family’s cash and to even do so she’d have to conceive and believe that there was a better life for her outside of the one she already has.

So ironically and tragically, I think that, for Rosalie the character at least, and as Meyer wrote her story in the context of the larger story, children would have been seen as more of a burden on both Rosalie and her children.

Not the children as babies, but maybe when they’re older and need to get married and build lives for themselves. Mothers were/are routinely held responsible for their children’s actions.

Those kids would most likely resent her for what I imagine could turn into invasive and slightly controlling behavior (keeping in mind that she’d be so focused on having kids that I don’t know what she’d do with a child she wouldn’t understand--what would sheltered-Rosalie do if she had a kid that thought like Bella, or Leah?) towards them to the point where there’d be emotional distances between them.

Rosalie would still love them, but it could have turned into a strained sort of parent-child relationship.

...but maybe she also could have been a mother who knew she had to understand the need for boundaries? We will never know for certain or with evidence of her future self since she was turned at the baby age of 18 and would have died if she hadn’t been turned.

The chance is gone, poof, disappeared and never to return--again under the perspective of Stephenie Meyer/present post-modern society. All thoughts about her being either the “worst” kind mother or the “best” sort of mother are headcanons and theories that will never be tested in canon.

Thus people have fan-fiction Rosalie is a myriad of ways.

Rosalie, Race, and So-Called “Beauty”

Vampire venom (possibly) forces its victim to forever retain the last feelings and attitudes they had moments before they turned, or dying in Rosalie’s case. Again, as a vampire, Rosalie’s beauty still gives her a sense of autonomy she feels was denied because it allowed Emmett in her life so she could really start trying to live it.

But when she was human, the main source of Rosalie’s content were material comforts, which wouldn’t be a morally gray area or particularly evil. She was a white girl who lived comfortably in a luckier, sheltered, and wealthier environment.

Race & It’s Historical/Present Implications of Beauty/Worth

Blonde with blue eyes (even though they’re darker than the baby blues people historically praised or envied), Rosalie also had the added privilege of being the model realization of the white superior. For the successful, white family and society she grew up in, Rosalie’s beauty helps her get the attention of her father and mother, who make sure to subtly present her everywhere, fishing for a wealthy man. Then, because of this and because of those ideals living in the minds of everyone around her, Royce notices her. For all Rosalie knows, this is her getting everything she wanted. (Motherhood will “obviously” come later, therefore she may feel she has everything.)

Heidi is reportedly as gorgeous as Rosalie, which means her human self was as attractive as human Rosalie. She has brown, “mahogany” hair, so she’s not as “special” visually (I’m discounting her psychological gift of attraction).

Kebi is apparently also as gorgeous as Heidi and Rose (the fandom site here), but she’s not white nor did it seem like she was paler than other native Egyptians as a human. (Though some people may come at me and say that North Africans or Egyptians are not African or Black but white....I can’t make this up.)

Tanya and Rosalie both have the perfect “white girl” beauty. They are all are blonde (even though Tanya has some red in her hair, but this might make her that much more “attractive, since she’s a little “different”) and they all happen to have symmetrically smaller bodies.

I don’t make the “rules”, I just know them.

More on Kebi

Kebi is Egyptian, darker-skinned, and darker-haired. Too non-white and non-Christian. From a 2005 perspective, even though Kebi came from ancient Egypt, where Islam didn’t even exist for thousands of years, some readers (sheltered and/or racist/xenophobic/Islamophobic, but it’s many) would feel Kebi to be undesirable because of Egypt’s history and having of Islamic traditions and peoples. AND of Arabic or North African peoples not being considered “white” or white “enough” in many eugenist writings and claims that have informed minds today.

Yes she is an ancient person, but does race or racists distinguish between an ancient Egyptian and a modern one?

I didn’t include Edward or Carlisle--two of the extraordinarily attractive white, male vampires--in my list. Jasper and Emmett are reportedly not as hot as either of the mentioned men. Carlisle’s human blue eyes and blonde hair upholds that Aryan race agenda (AND he’s the leader). Edward doesn’t completely fit, with his human green eyes and his reddish hair. However, these men still are both suggested to be as universally considered attractive as Rosalie--not just in Bella’s possibly bisexual/polysexual POV.

These two men don’t find conflict with their attractiveness; at most it brings them some discomfort but not tragedy.

Edward keeps getting proffered by Tanya and hears teen girls sigh over how hot he is all the time. Nothing about it determining his autonomy or agency like with Rosalie. Same with Carlisle.

Twilight has a system of beauty that is very simplistic and reductionist (fandom website and suggested in the novels):

ugly humans turn into average-looking vamps (in a human’s POV); are still ugly to other vampires

average-looking humans turn into pretty vampires (in the human POV); still average to other vampires

pretty humans turn into god-like creatures to (the human POV); still just “pretty” or lovely to other vampires

Edward and Rosalie aren’t just considered extra hot to Bella. Many people throughout the series show how their looks are nearly universally considered attractive.

Mike reluctantly acknowledges Edward’s attractiveness by calling him a pretty boy in the first book when he complained to Bella how Edward was “freaky”, further implying that Bella shouldn’t be attracted to Edward.

Jacob at one point showed discomfort with how attractive he found Rosalie when he recounted to Bella how the pack and the Cullens tried to capture and kill Victoria in Eclipse.

Laurent payed a lot more attention to Rosalie than he did Esme or Alice when James’ coven entered the faux-baseball field in Midnight Sun. And he never even looked at Esme or Alice. Rosalie, as the book showed the scene to Edward, seemed to take all of Laurent’s attention. (Though it’s also possible he just likes blondes, going by how he eventually mates Irina.)

In the flashback of MS, Siobhan calls Edward "pretty". Generally, when humans call someone that or any complimentary physical descriptor, they mean to say that they find that person’s features more attractive than others’. Vampires are not different from humans in that they also pay attention/value beauty or physical attractiveness in other vampires and humans. Siobhan's own creator chose to change her and add her to his vampire harem specifically because he saw, what the Guide says, was her distinctive beauty and pretty features as well as her (characterized as ) “semi-feminine” build.

(More on vampire attractiveness and where Meyer may have gotten the inspiration from in another post.)

Extra (not someone else’s quote)

Nothing against Bella being possibly bisexual or pan. It’s that I don’t think she is bi/pan in the actual books and or the canon universe because of the reasons listed above about Meyer’s making pretty humans turn into extra-pretty vampires that nearly every vampire and human perceive as ultra-ultra hot. Both men and women who seem straight in the canon universe can see how beautiful Edward, Rosalie, and even Carlisle are without being sexually attracted to them.

There are also different types of attraction, link here:

Sexual attraction: attraction that makes people desire sexual contact or shows sexual interest in another person(s)

Romantic attraction: attraction that makes people desire romantic contact or interaction with another person or persons

Aesthetic attraction: occurs when someone appreciates the appearance or beauty of another person(s), disconnected from sexual or romantic attraction

Sensual attraction: the desire to interact with others in a tactile, non-sexual way, such as through hugging or cuddling

Emotional attraction: the desire to get to know someone, often as a result of their personality instead of their physicality. This type of attraction is present in most relationships from platonic friendships to romantic and sexual relationships

Intellectual attraction: the desire to engage with another in an intellectual manner, such as engaging in conversation with them, “picking their brain,” and it has more to do with what or how a person thinks instead of the person themselves

So Bella might just have an aesthetic attraction for Rosalie and a romantic-emotional-sensual-aesthetic-sexual attraction towards Edward. It is possible for Bella may not have a personal attraction to Rosalie as much as acknowledge that Rosalie is just beautiful the way that straight women can see another random woman as attractive but feel no sexual attraction.

If people wish to make revisionist literature that fixes Twilight, pursue different storylines that interest them or makes them happy, or even makes it more palatable to fit current ideas of sexuality/gender/class/racial values--especially if they have faced discriminatory acts against them--by all means--write. I mentioned fanfic earlier. Some have also headcannoned Edward to have only aesthetic attraction for Bella and more sexual or romantic attraction towards Carlsile or Rosalie.

Vampire venom canonically makes a human more physically attractive/the more physically attractive versions of themselves, which may mean that vampire faces are more symmetrical.

Vampire venom thus acts like a biological, corrective plastic surgery, but only half way and just enough to fool the prey that vampires don’t even need to fool. (They’re already so strong and fast to never experience losing their prey by mistake...unless that human is protected by shapeshifters, werewolves, or other vampires.)

Humans in Twilight also canonically have have vision inferior to vampires’, who’d be able to see all subtler physical “imperfections”.

James was reportedly “ugly” as a human, so he’s ugly to other vampires, but average-looking to humans.

Bella is supposed to be average or “plain” as a human and so turns “pretty” as a vampire.

But Bella, Esme, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice as vampires are still not as pretty as Rosalie.

Rosalie was gorgeous as a human so she’s god-like as a vampire.

Apparently, Rosalie and Edward are just that hot.

To sum it up, the series--outside of Bella’s perspective--makes it a point to say that Rosalie was a person who was considered gorgeous as a human so venom made her extra-extra beautiful as a vampire.

It still strikes me as clever since it ties back into venom enhancing the former human’s features and abilities. And there’s the implication that pale=beautiful and that you can absolutely and universally measure and recognize attractiveness.

It was also nice to have such a simple view of the world, where everything about how humans perceive each other can be just explained away with no rebuttals or conflicts, especially at a time where I questioned my own attractiveness constantly and under external (mostly racist) pressures. I metaphorically paled when I noticed that venom made people paler even when I was first reading the series as a teen. But I was, and still am, so entranced with the idea of a corrective, biological substance. (But, what does this mean for labioplasty?!!!)

Final Thoughts

Rosalie’s human upbringing and her youth and level of maturity -at-turned set her up to “obsess” over needing the assurance of both security and agency.

Rosalie’s narrative role in Twilight is self-contradictory.

The series considers Rosalie morally irredeemable and stupidly stuck in a unjustifiably angsty. As if it is just her fault that she is unhappy.

Meanwhile Meyer also uses very attractive women like Rosalie to make the point that very attractive women are more likely targets of physical and emotional mistreatment as a consequence of the patriarchy that conflates a woman’s character to their appearance.

But by doing this Meyer still shifts the responsibility or root cause or mistreatment to the victim/receiver of others’ actions: Rosalie’s extreme beauty was the reason why a man saw fit to hurt her.

Similar to man to how people victim-blame when they attribute the hurt’s cause to the woman’s actions of not acting within the behavioral/visual restrictions of a woman (whether true or not).

If Rosalie, one of the most beautiful women and more importantly more so than most other woman, could be “destroyed” specifically for being the higher “grade” of woman then women themselves can never be safe from male sexual aggression. Someone less pretty (by white, 20000s society/Meyer’s system, average<pretty<beautiful) but still “pretty” are more likely to be sexually assualted than those who are just “average”. Only “average” and “ugly” women are either completely “safe” or be the least likely recieve the least assualts---> which is not true b/c:

If we define ugly/average to be not very expressive in visual stuff (makeup and clothing) and even with those that do not fit into the current beauty ideals, there is evidence that some men will try to go for wo they perceive as the least assuming or visually distinct woman because they think they won’t have trouble assaulting them, even in public. and that goes for most rape and SAs

So, Meyer conveys that male aggression is inherent and inescapable. That it is directly tied to how attractive rather than how vulnerable you are.

Also she by doing so, she conveys that their beauty disallows them from being having access to the contentment and peace that is having a family or just having kids.

Because, you know every woman should have kids or look to get authority over others (Alice, too, here) to be happy, right? Because child-rearing and domesticity that may have a familial hierarchy is the definition of happiness, yes?

Or that it’s one’s looks that cause their abuse and not the abuser’s sense of entitlement buttressed by opportunity or sociopolitical privilege.

Or that because a woman happens to physically conform to a society’s beauty ideals and receives a lot of privilege for it, she must be written out of the very restrictive domestic happiness pushed onto most women either directly or through allowed “glitches” in liberalizing infrastructure.

Meyer wrote Rosalie’s desire for children and her love for Emmett in a way that confines her to being a semi-laughable failure. (Poor woman, she can’t let go of her past even though she will never have anything like what she wants. Silly, poor woman.)

I like Rosalie as a character because she gives me the opportunity to think about the paradoxes that we live in and create to respond to the struggles that come from us trying to “conquer” them. If we ignore that Meyer boxed Rosalie in a corner for the sake of supporting her vision of domesticity.

For me, it seems Rosalie , as a vampire, craves and values agency that was denied to her as a human.

Rosalie’s wish to have a child seems to be an earnest desire to have a child and realize her own vision of domesticity--which is fine because that was her true desire while being in a position where that would have been pushed on her anyway. However that vision is Meyer’s, who has denied Rosalie that and making it seem like it was her fault when she set up Rosalie to be so narrowly characterized.

Rosalie makes me think: How do we become more obsessed with getting power/authority over autonomy? What does each look/feel like, especially when you’re trapped in perceiving things a certain way? Or would we just try to avoid being under a power we don’t approve of for ourselves? Where and how do the lines get so blurred?

Rosalie, to me, also is somewhat like Othello since her problems as a woman share that “How do I stay relevant to people who would treat me like an object based on things I can never change and should I change them” conundrum.

Both characters tragically consume self-defeating ideologies at some point in their lives that limits them from perceiving exactly how others’ specific actions against them (real and theoretically) set against them until it’s too late.

#rosalie cullen #rosalie hale #twilight #twilight analysis #feminism #feminist #twilight saga #Twilight series #the twilight saga #the twilight series #not the twilight movies #twilight characters #twilight character #twilight feminism #twilight renaissance #twilight vampires

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noctuaas · 4 years

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AS YOU WISH; t. kuroo

synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?

pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader

content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, fem!reader

fic navigation

01 ; THE BRIDE

TO BE THE MOST beautiful girl in the world was a concept far past your concern. Those around you certainly saw the potential, but at 16 years old, you simply could not care less to capitalize on your natural beauty. (Beauty routines were exhausting in your eyes. You only washed your face so as not to feel filthy, taking a razor to your leg hair was far more trouble than it seemed worth, and you were quite sick of brushing your hair, so you did so as little as possible.) All you really wanted to do was ride your horse and pester the farm boy that worked for your parents.

Prince, as you had taken to calling the horse when he was just a yearling, was a loyal companion. Other girls your age grew attached to one of their herding dogs’ pups, or the kitten of a barn cat, but you had Prince. He always came when you called, steered where you told him even on a loose rein, nuzzled your face on bad days.

For all the time you spent taunting and bossing the farm boy around—“Farm Boy, fetch me this,” and “Farm Boy, take care of that,”—he always had one thing in common with the horse: he always did as he was told.

(Perhaps you knew that he was really a young man now—he was a year or two older than you—but he had been just an orphaned boy when he first came to work for your father, so that was what you referred to him as: Farm Boy.)

“As you wish,” he always replied, without fail.

Your father was fond of the farm boy, often remarking how he should leave him an acre of land in his will for all his hard work. These conversations never lasted long though, not before your parents would turn to you and chide you for needing to go bathe again and clean yourself up after spending the day in the barn.

Despite your disdain for taking care of yourself like a “proper lady,” as your mother liked to say, your natural beauty was still enough to cause the village boys to flock to you. Those dimwits always liked to badger you with stupid questions whenever you rode into town, offering silly favors and making awkward small talk, much to dismay of the rest of the girls in the village. The boys were always so annoying, and you often noted how much more tolerable Farm Boy was as you dismissed their advances. Eventually they took to making fun of you, laughing over snide remarks about you because they must have been embarrassed about being shot down. Sometimes the insults were too much to ignore, and when that was the case, Farm Boy took matters into his own hands. You always thanked him after he sent a village boy home bloodied and crying, and he always answered, “As you wish.”

You came to realize that Farm Boy was the only boy your age whose presence you seemed to enjoy. One night, you lied awake with the dim light from a full moon crawling through your window, thinking about how he was always kind and respectful to you, how he protected you and your honor, how he seemed to smile at you differently than he ever smiled at the other girls in town. (You also let yourself admit that he was quite handsome, with his amber eyes and ebony hair that was always in a perfect bedhead state, which was something you had never bothered caring about before.)

After that, your time was no longer divided between riding your horse and pestering the farm boy; now, ‘pestering’ was to be replaced with ‘falling for’. You let him join you on rides through the woods on Prince; you began doing your morning reading in the barn to keep him company while he fed the animals; you took it upon yourself to take out any extra supper your mother cooked to him. You even decided to stop calling him ‘Farm Boy’.

“What’s your actual name, Farm Boy?” you asked out of the blue.

“Why do you ask?” he had replied, and you snorted in mild amusement.

“Well, after having known you all these years, it must be quite rude of me to still call you ‘Farm Boy’.”

He paused and grinned that endearing grin of his, “Just call me Kuroo, then.”

Everything was so blissful for the year following. You loved Kuroo, and he loved you. Even on the day the royal Count and Countess of Aobajousai had strangely paid your family a visit, you both were sure of this; because while the Countess took Kuroo’s arm gently for him to show her the dairy cows and the Count watched you intently as you followed the small procession on your horse, you and Kuroo both stared at each other.

At the end of one year though, Kuroo unexpectedly showed up at your window in the middle of the night.

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

You shot up straight in your bed, cocking your head incredulously, “What do you mean, ‘goodbye’?”

“I mean I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Have I done—”

“I’m taking to the sea to seek my fortune,” he cut you off. “There’s a ship that sails out of Karasuno, to the new country of Inarizaki. There’s great opportunity there, so I’m going.”

You were shell-shocked for a moment. Leaving? Sailing to Inarizaki? Where was this all coming from?

“But why? What about the farm? What about us?” You finally said. Your voice was already beginning to quiver pathetically as tears brimmed in your eyes.

“I’ve been training at night, so I hardly need sleep or food, and I’ll get two 10-hour-a-day jobs. I’m gonna save every penny, and in just a couple years I’ll have enough to buy a big farm and build a brand new house just for the two of us.”

“For the two of us?” Your brows furrowed and your voice was meek.

“Yes, (y/n). I love you. All these years I’ve stayed here because of you. I’ve taught myself foreign languages, made my body strong, everything, for you. I’ve been head over heels for you since I was a kid. Do you understand what I’m saying, or should I keep going?”

(By now, Kuroo had squeezed his broad frame through your window, somehow landing gracefully on the floor and sliding next to you on your bed so he could wipe away your tears with his thumb. It was a good thing he was athletic enough to do so quietly, because if your parents caught him in your room, all hell might break loose.)

“Never stop,” you mumbled dreamily.

“There hasn’t been a day—”

“You better not be teasing me, Kuroo, or I’ll have your hide,” you broke in this time. Kuroo loved to tease you, and it was normally all in good fun, but if that was the case now, then he was taking it way too far.

“I’d never joke about loving you,” he replied. “Remember all those years when you would tell me, ‘Farm Boy, do this, Farm Boy, do that’? What did I always say?”

“‘As you wish’.”

“Well, that’s just what you thought I was saying. I was actually saying ‘I love you’,” Kuroo smiled gently and ran his fingers through your hair.

All that time? You couldn’t even recall the first time Kuroo started saying ‘As you wish’ to all your commands, but apparently he had been in love with you. Before you had ever even noticed him, he was devoted to you. It sounded like a fairy tale.

“I love you too, Kuroo. I’ll never stop loving you, I swear,” you finally said.

“I’ll hold you to it, princess. I have to go now if I want to make it to Karasuno in time, but I’ll send for you soon. Promise.”

You nodded in understanding, but you couldn’t let him leave without one last kiss.

There had been five great kisses since the beginning of time. Though the precise rating of kisses is a bit convoluted and controversial (everyone knows that the formula for a great kiss is comprised of timing, affection, intensity, and duration, but there has never been a universal agreement on each element’s weight), there was no doubt that this kiss left every other in the dust.

The following morning, all you wanted to do was lay around and mope. It was perfectly justifiable, considering the love of your life had just left the country, and you wouldn’t see him for God knows how long. You wallowed in self pity for about an hour before realizing that Kuroo was out in the great big world now, and with as handsome as he was, he would surely have women throwing themselves at him.

What if all this moping destroys my beauty, and when he sends for me, I’ll arrive in Inarizaki, and he’ll take one look at me and send me back?

“Mother,” you ran downstairs, interrupting whatever petty argument your parents were having. “I need your advice. How can I better take care of my appearance?”

“You’ve never cared about your appearance, honey. Why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

“Well, I’m nearly 18 now. I figure it’s about time I start behaving a little more like a lady,” you lied. It was enough to appease your mother, and she grabbed your arm and began dragging you to the washroom in delight.

You quickly learned that taking such care of yourself was hard work; the saying, ‘beauty is pain,’ made an awful lot of sense now. But for Kuroo, nothing was too much. Every morning, you awoke at dawn to start the farm chores. You had to pick up all the slack left by Kuroo, so there wasn’t really any time for self-improvement until the afternoon, but once you started, you took it very seriously. Daily baths, simple exercises, and all the time it took to brush your hair out perfectly before bed.

If the whole town thought you were beautiful before, now they all knew you must be a contender for the most beautiful girl in the world. You, however, still had no care for how beautiful the rest of the world found you; as long as Kuroo found you beautiful. (In the coming years, you would learn that you were beautiful no matter what, and simplify your beauty routine to what you liked. As long as you felt clean and tidy, that was sufficient.)

Kuroo wrote you letters every few months, and you kept every one of them. Sometimes people would ask you how he was doing, which was a mistake unless they had a lot of spare time, because you could talk about him for hours. It was obvious that you were completely and utterly in love, and so the village boys eventually stopped trying, and the village girls warmed back up to you.

It made sense the way Kuroo’s death hit you the way it did.

The news reached your parents first. The Count (a new fellow named Iwaizumi, appointed by Prince Oikawa shortly after the last one’s death) was sent to your farm to deliver the news since it was Kuroo’s last known place of residence. You were returning from town on your horse when Count Iwaizumi was leaving your property.

“Miss,” he nodded politely as you crossed paths. You rode on in confusion, and the new Count watched you intently, much like the last one.

When you made it into the house, both your parents hushed up and looked at you with pity.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s The Crow’s Wing, darling. It was attacked,” your mother told you.

Kuroo’s ship was attacked? You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“Pirates. In the night,” your father explained.

You knew the trip across the sea would be dangerous, but you never thought it would happen to him. Sliding into a chair, you decided it might be best to sit down.

The room was quiet until you managed to squeak out, “So Kuroo’s been taken prisoner, then?”

A long sigh from your parents, and then, a, “No.”

“It was the Dread Pirate Nekomata.”

You blinked, willing back tears. The Dread Pirate Nekomata was the most famous pirate in all the world, and he never took prisoners. In all these years in his reign of terror, no one survived an attack from the Dread Pirate Nekomata.

You went to your room, and this time around, you allowed yourself to mope. For six days, you sulked, and cried, and mourned. Not once did you come out of your room, so your parents took to leaving food outside your door, which you only ever picked at meekly. During those six days in your room, you decided you would never love again.

#ITS HAPPENING YES #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #hq fanfic #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq scenario #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo scenario #my writing

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kaypeace21 · 4 years

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i’m a survivor too, and i found that certain scenes/stuff will said just really struck me as ‘csa-survivor’-like? i felt a bit uncomfortable about headcanoning it happening to someone else, especially for a fandom as wild as this one, but your metas have really been a comfort to me because they’ve been able to pick out and explain things that i couldn’t necessarily find the words for myself.

and yeah, i would love to have a character like me that is powerful and who finds love and who gets a happy ending. the people who call the theory disgusting always kinda hit wrong with me because although csa is a difficult subject, we shouldn’t be ashamed about sharing it. they sound like they’re trying to say that it’s a bad topic to talk about and implying that it can’t happen to kids, which uhhhhh-

(i’m sure that’s not what they mean, precisely, but it’s still what they sound like, and i wish that they would stop implying that we can’t exist, especially in popular media. we do, and i’m not gonna pretend we don’t, and if they feel uncomfortable with the topic they can just use the block button. we deserve to have some well written representation just as much as anyone else. also, i really really hope that will gets a happy ending.)

anywayyyy i love your theories and i can see your post in the tag so i think you’re fine?? have a good day ❤️❤️❤️

SORRY, this ask took so long to respond to. It always warms my heart to hear other survivors speak and say they found comfort in my theory.

Yes, I think I and a lot of c*a/r*pe victims (subconscious or otherwise) were triggered by some of the symbolism/visuals in s1-3. And s3 made it hard for most of us to ignore the past imagery- since s3 wasn’t as subtle.

I get why people have reservations about the theory. But the debates to the contrary are usually just plain offensive. Or people trying to be respectful but being the opposite. There’s the obvious bad-apples . I got many anons after part 1 of my DID theory saying it “ruined/tainted byler”, and “if that happened to Will i’ll stop shipping byler” , or that it “ruins the best gay character” , and to “remove the post immediately”. And this was when I was open about being a gay c*a victim. I obviously blocked them. Many survivors don’t come forward because they’re afraid people will see them as “tainted”, “ruined”, “ just their trauma”, or blame them for what happened. So yeah, it pisses me off when people say similar stuff about Will (and thus other c*a victims). Not even diving into the messed up psychology about byler/mileven shippers (knowing i was a lesbian c*a victim) but purposely spreading bs rumors about me being a p*do that was into Will/Noah-all because of the theory. -_-

Then there’s the people who try to be “respectful” but literally do the opposite.

I’ve heard numerous times it’s somehow “less offensive” to just use r*pe imagery to make monsters scary. Rather than have the monsters have that imagery cause Will created the monsters from his memory/imagination-and st is a story of Will healing from that trauma. SORRY- I disagree. Using the worst experiences of peoples’ lives (and triggering their trauma) for no real purpose- except to make their monsters scarier to the normal/general audience who haven’t gone through it so won’t be triggered like us - is MORE OFFENSIVE to victims! NOT LESS! At least to me.

Then there’s the people who say “c*a should never be talked about (in stories).” Which I disagree with. V*ctims have already been told by ab*ser’s and enablers of the ab*ser- to never talk about what happened to us . So it rubs A LOT of us the wrong way when people say this. Because (subconscious or not) you remind some of us of the people who used to hurt/silence us. People say this -simply for their convenience (like ab*sers) and cause deep down they’re uncomfortable with our existence and equate the despicable act to us the innocent v*ctim ...or just want to deny the horrible reality of the situation (like many enablers who deny the truth and hurt us because they don’t want to accept reality) . And 1) It brings us back to a time where they told us to NEVER talk about it- and makes us feel like we did something wrong when we didn’t! 2) Every psych professional says with-holding/keeping the ab*se a secret is detrimental to our mental health.

Plus, there’s a HUGE difference between sugarcoating/minimizing trauma or WORSE glamorizing, condoning, or romanticizing C*A in stories (ex: pretty little liars) VS showing how the action is wrong, causes trauma, but showing recovery and happiness is still possible for v*ctims. if the story shows how accurately traumatizing it is (instead of minimizing/glamorizing it)- it’s incredibly rare for that character to get a happy ending. Having a story about recovering from that type of trauma and finding happiness despite such hardships would be amazing for US survivors! We rarely get stories with a happy ending- it’s more harmful to us survivors to never see ourselves get happy endings in tv/film/books. How can some survivors (in a dark place) think there’s a light at the end of the tunnel- if it’s never shown?Also if Will has DID too- it’s good mental health rep, along with queer rep (and survivor’s rep.) All 3 groups rarely are treated well or get happy endings in media. A lot of people may feel more heard, seen, and a bit more hopeful for the future - If Will (and other characters) get a happy ending.

And even though st has many themes- like say homophobia. To try and hand-wave all the disturbing r*pe imagery away as ‘Will is just gay so the monsters are like that”. IS SOOOOOO offensive. Trigger warning for examples. I’m sorry what part of Max saying when Billy had c*nsensual s*x it’s “good screams” but when possessed by the mf he causes Heather to do “bad screams” read as gay???! Having the possessed ch*ke/dr*g people before throwing them in trunks (like it’s implied Lonnie did to Will -since Jonathan checked Lonnie’s trunk for Will in s1)?Tying their arms and legs up/ g*ging them and getting on top of them and saying “stay VERY still it’ll all be over soon”-before a monster shoves it’s tentacle into someone’s mouth and inserts a goo - just gay??? Similar to the sentient vine/shadow monster forcing itself down Will’s throat. Let alone Will saying things like “he made me do it”, “i felt it everywhere”, or being tied to a bed and screaming “help! stop! it hurts! let me go!” While Jonathan is the only one who’s visibly triggered by this and has to literally turn away and hug someone . Or barb, billy, and El spiting up a white liquid from their mouth (similar to will spitting up a slug and lying to his mother about it ).El/billy touching a suspicious looking slime with their hand and looking at the substance confused . El drawing Papa with 3 legs (the middle one being shorter) , trying to undress in front of the boys , and Benny saying “I think she’s been ab*sed or something”.The theme of ab*sive dads- brenner , Lonnie, and Neil . Even when the demogorgan (called in d&d the “deep father”/ in the show “a man without a face”) attacked Barb it’s chopped up with scenes of Nancy having c*nsensual sex (the monsters are doing the opposite symbolically). There’s way more examples but NO- to try and hand wave /equate ALL OF THIS to just “gay imagery” or an “a*ds metaphor” is WAY more problematic. And just offensive (specifically to gay people) than just admitting what it may actually represent. R*pe imagery and gay imagery is NOT THE SAME THING!

Also ST has never been a kid show- maybe rewatch the show and see the rating of tv-14 . Goodness sake- s1 has a st*ged su*icde, k*dnappings, m*rder, discussions of physics, h*mophobia, and s*x (with stancy in s1 & jancy in s2-s3). S2/3 discuss at their finalies recovering from tra*ma . S2 had gra*ic de*ths, a man causing a women br*in damage/ and faking her m*scarriage, and a gang of vigalantes k*lling criminals. s3 had critiques on capitalism /media/s*xism, many d*eaths, and questionable imagery like the prior seasons. The Duffers constantly reference movies & events from the 80s (capitalizing on 80s nostalgia /subverting 80s motifs that middle age people from that time remember)! Those people were their intended age demographic . Most 80s centric refs go over most kids’ heads (heck a lot went over my head too since I wasn’t alive in the 80s XD).The Duffers even said in the book “worlds turned upsidedown” “it’s not a kid’s show despite having kids”. And maybe it’s a coincidence but when Lucas in s3 hands Will the “devil’s baby” firework (a hint about Lonnie) he says “18 and over only.” Which idk is a weird/random af line unless it’s foreshadowing that the show will get darker about various themes- and maybe even change ratings.

I get people wishing nothing bad ever happened to Will or Jonathan. And being apprehensive and not trusting the Duffers to do such a story justice (cause it’s difficult to do). But personally i trust them to do so tastefully with tact and not be exp*itative, (overly gr*fic) or offensive to v*ctims. You can disagree and think the show is about something else (or not trust the Duffers)- but it’d be great if people could stop using these other messed up talking points. While trying to appear ‘(fake) woke’ and like they care for victims- cause we see through it that you really don’t.

Have a lovely day anon ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Update- I just really agreed with and appreciate the tags in this reblog

#tw: csa #tw:r*pe

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spockandawe · 3 years

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OH RIGHT, I also have to follow up on The Healer Demands Payment!

Because oh my god, you guys

This is the most fun I’ve had with a cnovel in EONS (by eons, I mean like. a week. I'm an impatient binch). I was just poking idly around on novelupdates, and I tripped across an absolute GEM, and I need to scream about it. Which I already did once before, so I’ll try not to rehash things too-too badly, but I hit the end of the translation and blew through into MTL, because how was I supposed to stop? I’m still not caught up with MTL (not that it matters, since the story is ongoing), but I trust this author to take me good places, and I’m about 99% positive the author is deliberately playing with genre-based storytelling conventions, if a little more subtly than svsss.

I’m going to get into more spoilers as I go along than I did last time, all things revealed fairly early, but if you’d rather read it cold (a++, do recommend, but not critical for reading pleasure), hit up that post instead of this one. But these first couple paragraphs aren’t super revealing.

The premise!! Meng Qi is a healer. Her first time living her life, she tried to charitably do good and heal the people around her in need. However, like every time she tried to treat a guy, circumstances were such that everyone thought she looked suspicious, credit was given to her shijie, Lu Qingran, and then all the guys went off to moon over Lu Qingran. Meng Qi does her own thing for a while, and even picks up a shizun who she adores, and who is her research partner developing all kinds of revolutionary new medical techniques. When she eventually died (I still don’t know how, but it definitely looks like Lu Qingran was swooning into the arms of the man who did it), Meng Qi was told that Lu Qingran was beloved by the heavens. Then... Meng Qi woke up, age 17 or 18, just as she entered her sect, but with all the theoretical knowledge that she accumulated in her past life.

When our story begins, the first of Lu Qingran’s love interests has just entered the scene. He staggers back to the sect, carrying Lu Qingran, badly poisoned after encountering a magic beast in the woods. Meng Qi knows how to treat him. But she’s also aware that yeah, after she did this last time, she slaved away from a week, and passed out in exhaustion, just in time for Lu Qingran to wake up and say she saw ~someone~ in their sect’s uniform in the forest just before the beast attacked. Meng Qi is all set to be locked in jail for three months until someone gets around, finally, to clearing her name. Meanwhile, clown prime, Chu Fengtian, is busy mooning over Lu Qingran and ignoring all the work she did to save him.

Yeah! She’s not super interested!!!!!!!!!

So she thinks about this for a little while, and decides that the best way to extract herself from any kind of karmic entanglements is to make sure any work she does is just a pure, simple exchange of goods. So... she says she can treat him, and she charges him money. A lot of money.

He’s angry and embarrassed and has to sign an official IOU, her sect is upset with her, but her sect also knows that treating this poison is beyond their capabilities, so they’re like ‘yeah, whatever, humiliate yourself, i guess!’ She doesn’t, because she is a good and clever girl, and as Chu Fengtian’s humiliation fades, he seems to.... gradually realize that Lu Qingran shouldn’t be the object he orbits. Meng Qi charges him money for everything she does for him, all the different pills and such, and he’s, uh. He’s starting to get into it, and I am living.

I won’t lie, whenever I talk about this book I’ve been framing it as accidental findom harem acquisition, and I’m not wrong.

Now, at this point, Meng Qi kind of has a grasp on what Events ought to be transpiring, and is managing along. That gradually fades as the plot progresses, but it’s an early element. She acquires an injured baby tiger she wants to heal, who, uh, is definitely actually a member of a royal demon clan trapped in beast mode (and baby mode). To treat this tiger, she needs expensive-ass medicine. And now, our girl has additional motivation to extort the men around her (mostly) for everything they have. She also accidentally runs into another of Lu Qingran’s eventual love interests, Qin Xiumo, recovering from the aftermath of a failed heavenly tribulation, and in a really bad way. She... can treat him. If he pays :3c

(Lu Qingran almost steals credit for Meng Qi’s work, again, and this is the point where I start to wonder if there’s some kind of.... legit gravitational field around her that’s altering people’s perceptions, because this is a terribly consistent pattern. The Dreamer In The Spring Boudoir had a toxic white lotus of its own, but what she was able to do isn’t the same as Lu Qingran, and the way people eventually break free of orbit around Lu Qingran and realize that things are Strange is fascinating)

And now here is where I was like OHHHHHHH.

Because the moment Chu Fengtian gets Qin Xiumo alone, he’s like ‘right, you and me, we both remember our last lives, right? we remember how lu qingran got us killed? and how meng qi got caught up in that all trying to help us and died too? let’s NOT do that again’

MULTIPLE REINCARNATORS WITH MEMORIES OF THEIR LIVES

And here, I have to copy over this one bit again, because it made me go yeeeee out loud

“Meng Qi.” Qin Xiumo smiled. “You should always remember one thing.” He turned to look at Meng Qi. “If someone betrays and wrongs you in the future, don’t try to talk reason, just kill them.” He paused for a moment, then slowly said, “I know you can do it. As long as you don’t feel soft-hearted.

Qin Xiumo took a step towards Meng Qi. The mountain wind stirred his black robe, but he kept staring at her eyes. With a low whisper, he softly spoke every word. “Including me…if one day I betray you, bring you harm, just kill me without hesitation.”

Okay now

Here’s the funny thing

Because Meng Qi was not treated well by any of these love interests before, she’s totally willing to be pleasant with them, but like........... respect? what respect? the two boys out themselves to each other immediately, but they have no clue that meng qi remembers anything, and it’s hilarious. Also they start immediately getting into baby slapfights over who she’s charging more for certain services. Is it that she doesn’t care about you and only wants to talk money with you, or is it that hey, why did she charge you ten times as much for the same service??? The answer is yes. Also, Qin Xiumo offers to repay her with his body almost right away and she’s like No Thank You, and the moment their financial obligations are repaid, she’s like OKAY BYE, and it’s great.

Virtually every major character who’s been added to the party or exists on the outskirts of the party has won me over. Xue Junwen? A treasure. Su Junmo? A++++ gossipy fox bastard, would die for him. Sikong Xing? WONDERFUL fox lesbian, also a treasure, deserves the best girlfriend in the world. Pei Mufeng? BEST BOY, needs to tell me ALL his secrets!!!! Ji Wujiong? Absolute Bastard, my favorite lad, absolute treasure of a terrible man. I love him. And Meng Qi’s mysterious once-shizun is also floating around now, and is WILDLY jealous of who this ““shizun”” that she respects from her past could be.

The story has this balance I really, really like, where all of the major women who have shown up have either been absolutely delightful creatures or fascinating I-can’t-tell-if-they-know-they’re-toxic antagonists, and all the men have been SOME variety of clown. It’s so good.

And I’m speculating so hard about everything that’s happening!!! Why do three human lads appear to remember a past with Meng Qi, while at least two demons who were very involved with her definitely don’t? Meng Qi is getting SUPER good at arrays, but the narrative makes a point about how a ton of knowledge about arrays was lost in both the human and demon realms. So........ tell me more about the devil realm? Why have you told me so little about the devil realm, I’m getting suspicious! What the FUCK did all that internal damage to both Ji Wujiong and Yun Qingyan?? Are those wounds on Ji Wujiong’s face perhaps........... tiger claws? Do they have anything to do with a baby tiger’s injured paw that wouldn’t close until Meng Qi saved up for a ton of medicines? HOW MUCH DOES PEI MUFENG REMEMBER, and did he promise to go to the starfallen sea because of his PAST LIFE remembrances of meng qi? Why is he immune to propaganda lu qingran?

And also, last time I posted, I mentioned the strict stages of cultivation as my biggest downside in the novel. That’s still probably the case, but now, I’m invested. The conceit that Meng Qi’s theoretical knowledge far outstrips her cultivation is a fascinating one, and the story leans into it real, real good. Especially once Ji Wujiong got involved and started teaching her about arrays, and she wasn’t just leaning on rote lessons from the past to get by, it got so interesting. And some of the cultivation trappings that never really clicked for me are much more interesting in the context of a medical cultivation novel, like, I have never once cared what a spiritual sea is, but once it turns out that Ji Wujiong’s internal damage involves damage to his spiritual sea? Yes?? Tell me more?????

I’m genuinely shocked and delighted that I’m so invested in this book, because I only expected it to be a light, casual read from the start. I was looking for something to kill the time, not something to distract me while I’m supposed to be working, but I love it so much. I’m in the middle of wrapping up a story arc and pausing for air before I press on through the mtl, but I’m already planning to loop back to the beginning and read again and look for hints as soon as I finish. This is so GOOD. It was such a surprise how fun it was, but I love it so much!!

#the healer demands payment #cnovel rec #should be a tag i start using #let's see if i remember to go back and apply it #long post/

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

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Double Trouble

The grandparents of Bastien and Sophia's twins meet at last

Word Count 2751

A/N Just pure fluff here, no warnings. If you're wondering about my grammar, it's in order to make plain that Costas and Althea are not native English speakers. Series not suitable for under 18s

6b Grandparents

The next day, everyone piled into the minivan and made for the Capitol. The Palace was on the northern edge of the town, so it wasn’t far in terms of distance, and Bastien had timed everything to avoid rush hour. It hadn’t been easy getting the twins ready to go out, and the double buggy was loaded up with gear for any foreseeable emergency. They parked on one of the jetties that jutted out into the bay for visiting yachts and started the process of unloading and getting the twins into the buggy. Sophia wasn’t sure if it was easier or harder having her parents there to help, as they needed attention too, and she had to make sure Edith got her share of baby cuddles before they set off to meet Costa and Althea.

It was a pleasant walk along the harbourside, with plenty to see, from the moored yachts and fishing boats, the well planted flowerbeds and the old defending castle that dominated the town. The land rose swiftly from the harbour and the town buildings climbed the hill, crowded next to one another rather like the town in Guernsey where Sophia had grown up. Sometimes the resemblance gave her pangs of homesickness even though the building style was very different to her childhood home. She didn’t visit often, and it was pleasant to be there after spending most of her time looking after the twins at the Palace. Theo and little Bea were wide eyed at the unfamiliar sights and sounds, and Edith enthusiastically pointed out the boats and what she termed ‘dicky birds’ or the pigeons and seagulls that made the harbour their home territory.

They had planned to meet Bastien’s foster parents at a harbourside bistro that served a mixture of cuisines. It had seating right at the edge of the quayside with large sun canopies over the tables to guard against the Mediterranean sun. Sophia was fair skinned so needed to be careful not to burn, as would Edith and Bob. Bastien was more resilient and bronzed quickly but it was too soon to know whether their offspring would follow their mother or father in that respect. The buggy had its own sun shade and Sophia was watchful as to their exposure They both had little sun bonnets that kept some of the glare out of their eyes and the strong rays off their delicate skin. Approaching the Bistro, Sophia saw Althea, who stood and waved at them enthusiastically.

‘Excellent, they’re here’ Bastien said. They made their way over, finding that the buggy was just too tricky to manoeuvre through the bistro courtyard and the bags had to be taken off and the twins unbuckled before they could get any closer. Edith was delighted to take Beatrice again, and the feeling was mutual as she’d just got bored and decided that the straps holding her safe were too restricting. She gabbled and stared up at her grandmother, chubby fists waving in an attempt to grab at her clothes and hair. Althea quickly made her way over to take Theo as Bob hung back, keeping out of the way of the chaos.

‘Theodore Lykel, ántra mou’ my little man she cooed as Sophia handed bags over to Bastien in order to fold the buggy up. ‘You must be Lady Edith’ Althea was saying, holding Theo one handed, making an odd little curtsey and holding out her other hand for Edith to shake. On meeting Sophia for the first time Althea had remarked how ‘English’ she sounded, and was convinced she had noble blood despite being told otherwise. Costa had confided that she was a great fan of period drama and never missed an episode of Downton Abbey.

‘Althea, it’s lovely to meet you, but I’m just plain Edith, I’m not a lady’ she replied, awkwardly changing her hold on Beatrice for the handshake, making her squeak in protest. Costa had risen from his seat and come forward to greet Bob as Bastien and Sophia wrestled with the bags and buggy, setting it up again next to the table that had been reserved for them. If the babies fell asleep it would come in handy.

‘Bob’ Costa boomed, taking his hand in both of his ‘Good to meet you. Bastien, he says these are your first grandchildren’

‘Yes, that’s right Costa’ Bob replied ‘I take it you’re an experienced pappous’ Costa beamed

‘Polý kalá - very good, Bob. You know a little Greek?’

‘A very little. There’s not much call for it where we live, but I thought I’d do a little research.’ Costa nodded at him approvingly

‘The Greek gods did not bless us with our own children’ he smiled, inclining his head at Sophia. ‘You and Edith, you are very lucky’ Bob swallowed.

‘If Bastien here is an example, yours and Althea’s parental skills are excellent.’ he replied with a smile. Costa pursed his lips in gratitude.

‘That is kind of you, Bob. Now then, come, sit, sit - and we can talk and spoil these mikroí Ángeloi (little angels) together.’ He let go of his hand and they went to help get everyone seated. The two older women cooed and bounced the twins to keep them occupied while they all settled, with Sophia and the twins in the shade of the sun canopy, Edith next to her and Althea facing them. Costa basked in the warm sun and Bob adjusted his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes in the half shade. Bastien sat close to Sophia ready to help with bags or buggy while Althea propped Theo up on her lap so he could face the grown ups, making sure he couldn’t grab anything he shouldn’t have. Both his and Bea’s motor skills were developing but still a little random and they were getting the idea of putting interesting things into their mouth to sample. They had both developed fat little sucker cheeks and their fists were chubby and always active.

Before long the waiter came out with the menus, accompanied by the owner. Luigi was a middle aged Italian, a little thick around his waist, no doubt from sampling the dishes the cook, also his wife, made.

‘Mr Lykel, a pleasure to have you at my humble bistro. You bring your family’ he beamed.

‘Luigi, it’s been a while’ Bastien stood to shake his hand.

‘Ah, these are your bambini!’ he cried ‘Bellisima, what fine healthy babies, my wife will not forgive me if she misses them. And your wife, the lovely Sophia, you must be so proud.’ Sophia smiled, feeling a little odd having her babies praised while her arms were empty.

‘You’ve already met my foster parents’ Bastien asserted, then waved his at the other two. ‘and these are Sophia’s parents, Bob and Edith’

‘Benvenuto’ Luigi turned his attention to them ‘Welcome to my humble establishment. You are English like Sophia?’

‘Indeed we are’ Bob replied ‘I’m looking forward to seeing the menu. I promise we’re not typical Brits and we won’t ask for egg and chips’ Luigi laughed.

‘That rarely happens senor, but my wife likes to make everybody happy with her cooking.’ He leaned over to take a closer look at Beatrice, looking sleepy but refusing to nod off while there were such interesting people to watch. ‘Bellissima, she is adorable. I will call my wife to take a look before you order – is okay?’

‘Of course’ Sophia smiled, and he whisked away.

‘Really, Bob?’ Edith whispered to her husband. ‘Egg and chips? We’re not that bad.’

‘It was just a joke, E.’ he smiled. She huffed, but was distracted from taking it any further when Luigi’s wife, Rennata, emerged from the bistro.

‘Oh, i bambini’ she cried, clasping her hands together ‘Che bello – they are beautiful, senora. How alike they are!’ She leaned over Edith to take a good look and Bea looked a little disturbed at yet another new face. She screwed her face up ready to cry, but Edith soothed her, taking her hand and waving it at the cook.

‘Say hello, Bea. The nice lady just wants to see how beautiful you are’ she crooned. Beatrice stuffed her fingers in her mouth and dribbled, deciding that crying wasn’t worth the effort. The cook turned to look at Theo, who was unfazed and just gazed back at the newcomer before renewing his efforts to grab the salt shaker.

‘You are so lucky’ she gushed ‘They will play together when they are older. My sister had twins. They were hard work, but they always had company.’ She bustled back inside, and Luigi beamed at them.

‘Senor, drinks on the house, I insist, to wet the babies’ heads.’

‘You’re too kind Luigi’ Bastien replied. The owner followed Rennata back in and the waiter handed round the menus, taking orders for drinks.

‘Costa, the seafood platter for two looks good’ Althea remarked.

‘Luigi is generous with his portions’ said Bastien ‘We could have a big sharing platter and all order one or two tapas each’

‘Excellent idea’ Bob smiled, though Edith looked a little dubious. She wasn’t wildly adventurous with food, so Sophia pointed out the tapas menu, which seemed to please her as there were a few things she was familiar with. Before long they had all decided, and when the waiter came back with the drinks they put their order in. The twins started to doze, so Sophia put them in the buggy where they drifted off to sleep to the soft murmur of the grown ups talking.

‘Have you ever had to look after twins, Costa?’ Bob asked him ‘Any tips to hand down?’

‘No, not twins, but some – how you say? Brothers and sisters – siblings?’ Bob nodded. ‘Some foster children, they have big trouble, you know? We do our best to help them. These two’ he nodded at the twins, fast asleep in the buggy ‘They have good loving parents, and that, my friend, is a good place to start. They will do great things, just like our Antras.’ Althea nodded and leaned forward towards Sophia, resting her hand on her arm.

‘Costa is right, Sophia. All you need is love – love and patience. Every child, they are different, and so are the ones who look after them. You will work out your best way’ Edith gazed at the twins fondly.

‘You were an easy baby, darling.’ Bob assured his daughter. ‘I think Theo takes after you, but Bea takes a little more work. I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage her. You’re already doing a wonderful job.’

‘We only ever had Sophia.’ Edith chipped in ‘and she was such a good girl, she was almost never naughty. I’m not sure I have any advice, sweetheart. I just hope we get to see them every now and again’ She looked wistful.

‘Oh Mum’ Sophia said softly ‘Of course you will. We’ll visit, or you can come up to Edinburgh when we’re settled. You can fly, it’s not a long journey. We’ll have lots of video calls too.’ At that moment Luigi and the waiter came back with their food, and they scrambled to get everything set out ready to eat. Costa raised his glass.

‘We drink to our beautiful grandchildren, and wish our Ántras and Sophia strength to help them grow up healthy and happy’

‘Hear hear’ Bob echoed, and they all drank, raising their glasses high as the twins slumbered on.

-------

‘Well I couldn’t eat another bite’ Sophia announced after doing justice to the lobster thermidor she had been craving. She drank sparkling water, while Althea and Edith had retsina, and topped up their glasses from a jug of iced water when they’d finished. Bob had a beer, whilst Bastien and Costa, having driven there, had soft drinks. Edith had ordered a crab salad, Bob had gone for a burger, and Bastien had sea bass and a dish of mussels. Costa had ordered a small moussaka and Althea had pizza, and they had all dipped in to the seafood platter.

‘Are you sure about that?’ Bastien asked her ‘they have some excellent gelato’ She smiled back at him, remembering her favourite restuarant in Edinburgh that made award winning gelato, and the fact that within the year they would be there in person.

‘I think there’s plenty of time for that in the future’ she said gently.

‘Well I think I could manage some sorbet’ Edith piped up, so the women had sorbet and the men talked, though both Costa and Bastien sampled their wives’ desserts. Luigi came to bring them the bill, and Bob insisted on paying.

‘The twins will need feeding soon’ Sophia said ‘We should probably make our way back to the van and go home.’

‘Bob, perhaps you and Edith would like to look around town with us’ Althea suggested. ‘We get to know each other, and we take you back to the Palace after’ Edith looked to Bob, who smiled and nodded.

‘That sounds like a good idea – what do you think, E?’

‘Why not?’ she answered ‘Then Sophia can have a rest when she’s fed the twins’ That said, they managed to get the buggy out with the waiter’s help, moving tables and chairs so they could carry on sleeping.

‘We’d better get moving’ Sophia declared ‘Bea doesn’t like waiting for her feed, and they’ll be hungry after all the excitement’ She hugged her parents and she and Bastien set off back to the van as fast as they could. They managed to transfer the twins into their seats without too much bother, and by the time they got home Beatrice was awake and starting to grumble. The next hour was taken up with feeding and changing them both.

‘Thank goodness we’ve only got the twins to deal with’ Sophia sighed, knowing that it would be a while before nap time. ‘I’m shattered after our trip’

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ Bastien replied as he held Theo.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it was a really nice outing. All the grandparents seemed to get on well’

‘Yes, they did. It’s difficult getting out and about’ Bastien admitted. ‘But it will just become our new normal. We’ll soon have it all down pat.’

‘It did help having a couple of extra pairs of hands. Mum was right, Edinburgh will be a whole different ball game’ Bastien walked over to her and kissed her cheek.

‘We’ll cope’ he said gently ‘We can afford extra help, and Liam said we’re always welcome back here if we need a break’

‘I couldn’t stay away for long’ Sophia smiled ‘It really feels like home here. I quite like the idea of travelling between here and Scotland’

‘Well, the King has said we can use the Royal jet to take the twins there, so that will be a huge help. I can’t imagine trying to manage them on an ordinary passenger flight’ He rocked Beatrice and clucked at her as she waved her arms and legs happily. ‘You’re a little Missy.’ he crooned.

‘We’ll be around to see when Lucy has the baby, then we’ll be off’ Sophia replied. ‘The accommodation the university’s providing will make a good base to start from.’

‘We really seem to have struck it lucky in lots of ways’ Bastien replied. They had been offered a large flat in a Georgian terrace right in the centre of the city. It had access to a park, available only to residents of the historic terrace. Sophia was excited to get there and explore. If it was nice enough, they probably wouldn’t need to bother house hunting for a while.

‘Well, my first stroke of luck was finding you’ Sophia said, bouncing Theo on her knee. Bastien smiled and held out his hand. Puzzled, she got up, holding the baby one handed and he snaked his free arm around her waist.

‘I’m the lucky one, my goddess’ he murmured, kissing her on her cheek. They each cradled a baby in the crook of their arm and he turned to face her, humming a nursery rhyme. She leaned into him and they slowly swayed to the tune, babies gazing up at them contentedly. Bastien rested his forehead on the top of her head and they formed their own safe little family bubble. Sophia’s heart felt as if it would burst with love for all three of them, and looking up into her husband’s eyes, she knew he felt the same…

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @bascmve01 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @nomadics-stuff

#double trouble #bastien lykel #sophia x bastien #bastien x oc

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xiaq · 4 years

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The stories I see about police on the United States are scary. Are things as bad as they look on the news? Do they all have guns all the time? What is your experience with police?

I’m going to assume this is in reference to George Floyd and/or similar occurrences of police violence against people of color.

Short version:

Yes, yes, and my experiences don’t particularly matter except to illustrate how problematic others’ experiences are by comparison. Long version:

I’m a nearly 30 year old, small, conventionally attractive, white woman who has lived in Texas my entire life and I’ve been stopped by police 11 times. I’ve received 2 tickets.

5 times I was stopped on my motorcycle for speeding. I, uh, definitely should have received tickets. I got warnings for all of them after having a friendly chat about how rare it was for women to ride sport bikes and promising to pay better attention to speed limits. Two of these times, the officer asked if he could take a picture of me/my bike (I admittedly looked very cool).

4 times I was stopped in my car. I was ticketed twice for speeding, though both times they wrote the ticket for less than the actual infraction so I could use defensive driving to remove the charge. The third time I was pulled over because he thought my registration was past due (it was not) (if you’ve been following me for a while, this was the time the officer tested my tiny bags of flour for drugs). We laughed about the misunderstanding. No tickets. No aggression. The fourth time I was definitely speeding, but received a warning because I told her (honestly) that I was headed to the VA hospital to do therapy work with my dog and she was a veteran so she let it slide.

I was also stopped by police two times for “jaywalking” while in college.

One time was during a Texas Relays meetup in downtown Austin when the streets were literally packed with pedestrians. I was the only white person, and the only female, in our group. The officer ticketed my friends, pulled me aside, and asked if I was there “of my own volition.” Upon assuring him I was, he gave me a warning.

The second time was at the end of summer. I’m Italian. I was very tan. I was still the only white person there and I did get ticketed that time, except my race was recorded as Mexican and I was able to get it dismissed on that technicality. My friends, of course, had to pay theirs.

I’ve also been a passenger in cars that were stopped by police around a dozen times. Only one of those times the driver was white—incidentally, one of the few friendly encounters I’ve had with police as a passenger. The other times, I was asked by officers what my relationship was to the black or Latinx male drivers, asked to step out of the car and speak with them privately because they were concerned for my welfare, asked if the (nice) car my friend was driving was mine (before they even checked the registration), asked if my “father knew I was out with these boys” or “this boy” even when everyone in the car was well over the age of 18. In nearly all of these situations there was no ticket issued. We stayed calm. I tried to diffuse the situation, if possible, and everyone got home safe. But I was always painfully aware that had we not stayed calm, the outcome might have been very different, and I would not have been the one in danger.

I did an internship with the Austin Police Department in undergrad and was accepted to the police academy upon graduation. I seriously considered becoming a detective instead of going to grad school. I’ve been mentored by and am friends with several good, honest, incredibly hard working police officers/detectives/canine handlers of all races and genders and I have so much respect for the work they do every day.

But I am also very aware that my interactions with police from the time I was a teenager until now likely would not have been so positive were I not a white woman from an upper-middle-class family driving nice vehicles. I am also very aware that the negative experiences I’ve had with police (which ALL occurred because I was in the presence of non-white friends) cannot even begin to compare to the negative experiences that my non-white friends have been dealing with since they were children. This is not a “few bad apples” issue. It’s a deeply entrenched, systematic one that must be addressed on a wide scale.

Also, if I can add one more thing for anyone reading this thinking “but what can I do??”: I believe that, as a white person, recognizing that this is a problem is not enough. Medium published this article a few years back that I think is still a great outline for white folks who want to do something other than make sad face reactions on their POC friends’ facebook stories about injustice: https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-white-people-can-do-for-racial-justice-f2d18b0e0234.

#racism #police brutality #answered asks #story time

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wintaejk · 4 years

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What Do You Dream About? | jjk

When ___’s brother comes to her asking for help, she has no other choice than to take his place as a member of the biggest gang in the city, B.A.F. However, this is when BTS, another cartel, arrives in town that ___ has for mission to keep company to Jeon Jungkook, the leader of the gang. But BTS is only there for a few days, and ___ realizes soon enough that she only has a night to enjoy Jungkook’s company. Or that she thinks, at least.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Mafia au | Strangers to Lovers | Fluff | Smut

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, language, English is not my first language so if some sentences are weird it’s probably the reason (sorry about that lol)

A/N: I’ve already posted that OS but with another fanbase. However, I took it off from tumblr because I am not longer reading about the group (I still love you my babies tho), and I wanted to modify it a bit before posting it here. So this is my first ever English work, I hope you will enjoy it!

“You must be kidding me!”

It was the first and only thing you could say at the very moment. But as you looked at Yohan, your younger brother, you could tell he wasn’t kidding. Not at all, actually. “How did that happen?” You weren’t sure you wanted to know, to be honest, but you still had to ask.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” You’ve never been a violent kind of person, but at that very moment, all you wanted to do was to slap him. Hard. “You were bored? Jesus, Yohan! When people are bored, they read a book or watch television. They do not get enrolled in a gang.”

And now he was in deep shit. Asking for your help. But how could you ever say no to him, your little brother, the apple of your eyes.

“What gang?” You finally asked. Just thinking about the possibility of dealing with all those criminals was making you shiver. But you had no other choice. “B.A.F.” Yohan muttered.

B.A.F. was an acronym for Brave and Free. It wasn’t the biggest gang in the country, but it was the most important one in your city, the one controlling it. You could understand Yohan didn’t know how to deal with the situation, because you had no clue yourself. “I’ll deal with it.” You yet told him. You didn’t know how, but you knew you would find a way out.

It appeared that it wasn’t hard to find the B.A.F’s headquarters. What was hard though, was to manage to talk to someone who could – who would accept to be more precise – to listen to your offer. It took you almost thirty minutes and a lot of flirting to convince the guard to let you in. Not to mention the good amount of money you had to provide. What he didn’t need to know was that it didn’t matter for you: you could have offered him way more since your father always made sure your bank account was full enough.

“The girl ‘ere wan’ed to talk to ya, boss.” The huge amount of muscles said to a middle-aged man who looked at you curiously. “And what’s the girl’s name?” If you didn’t know already that he was the leader of the gang, you would have immediately guessed. He wasn’t only dressed in fancy clothes. All in him yelled power and respect, from his demeanor to his perfectly styled hair.

“____.” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you would have wanted it to be, but you still managed to control it enough not to be shaky. You also took advantage of the silence to add quickly your last name after a few seconds.

That’s when you decided to take a look at what was around you. The room was simple, and you noticed the guard from the entrance had already left. But you immediately realized that you weren’t alone. Other gang members were attending this meeting, and you almost let a gasp of surprise when you recognized Kim Taehyung in the lot.

Taehyung was studying at the same university as you. He was a tall, beautiful, young man. He belonged to the kind of men that were almost impossible to ignore when passing them in the corridors. However, as much as you knew who he was, you were almost 100% sure he didn’t know you in return. And it was maybe better that way.

“Well, ___… Why such a pleasant surprise?” The leader got your attention back, a malicious smirk on the corner of his lips. You sighed lightly, mostly to gather your courage. “I’m Yohan’s sister. I- I would like to make a deal.” He didn’t ask anything. Or at least not verbally. Because the eyebrow he raised clearly showed you he wanted you to keep going.

“I would like you to let him go. To free him.” Bursts of laughter weren’t the reaction you were expecting. And it didn’t make you feel confident. Not a bit. “You must be very brave to come ask us such a thing, doll. Or very stupid.” At that moment, you started to think that you made a mistake by coming here. You started to think you were digging your own grave by trying to deal with these men.

“Fine. I’m all ears. What do you have to offer me?” You gulped. You knew with the look on his face, with the glint in his eyes that you’ll have to offer him more than what you had expected in the first place to manage to have what you wanted. “I can give you a lot of money. My father-” But he cut you before you could even finish your sentence.

“I don’t care about your money, doll. I am nothing like the pathetic guard you just bought with you daddy’s money. I have myself all the money I want. All the money I need. So I repeat my question: what do you have to offer me?” His tone was harsh and clear. If you wanted to stay alive, you would have to propose him more. Something that he would never be able to buy by himself.

I looked at Taehyung, the only person you knew here, as if he was going to help you. To save you. But it was obviously vain. So you said the first thing that came to your mind. The stupidest thing that crossed your mind, to be precise.

“I want to make an exchange.” You saw immediately his facial expression changing. He was interested. “My brother in exchange of me.”

You heard some more laughs in the room, but none of them came from the mouth of the man in front of you. “And what made you think we would want you instead of your brother, doll?” It wasn’t the leader who talked, but a man you had never seen before on your left.

Even though the question didn’t come from the most important man of the room, you still understood that an answer was required. Because yes, why you and not Yohan after all? “You have plenty of men under your orders. More than you probably even need. But women ready to sell their lives forever? Something tells me that you won’t receive that kind of proposition every other day.”

And just like that, with a few words, you sold your soul to the devil himself.

“I think we have a deal, ___.”

Fortunately, your role in the gang wasn’t important. It was always about distracting men while other members stole things from them or delivering some shit you didn’t know about. In other words, nobody ever asked you to complete important missions. Or at least, it had not happened yet.

“BTS are in town.” Taehyung told you one day. It was him who inherited the task of supervising you. And let’s say immediately that he wasn’t very keen about it when he learnt it.

“And I should be excited because…” You were walking next to each other through the dense crowd of the university. However, no matter how full the corridors were, Taehyung was doing a good job at cleaning the way, he always had. “Not excited, ___. But it’s a big deal for the gang. The boss has been wanting to collaborate with them for so long. It’s a huge opportunity.”

A huge opportunity that led you to get asked to accomplish a mission way more important than the one that had been attributed to you in the past. And little did you know that mission was going to change the rest of your life forever.

“So all you have to do is serve him and his closest members all night long.” Taehyung explained you for maybe the tenth time that day. “And what does ‘serve him’ mean, exactly?”

“You know, the usual shit. Taking his orders, bringing him drinks. Bending over so he has a full sight of your ass.”

The member that has slowly started to become your friend these past weeks left you alone after that explanation and walked through the people that were dancing and drinking in the party the leader of your gang organized. Taehyung turned around after realizing you were not following him, and that’s when you saw it in his eyes. Was it pity or sadness? No matter what it was, he was still waiting for you to lead you to your mission: play the waitress – a generic word that had a different meaning for your boss than it had for you – with the leader of BTS. You already knew it was going to be a long night.

“Mr. Jeon, let me introduce you to ___. She will be at your service for the rest of the night. You can ask her anything and everything you want, and she will make it her personal pleasure to satisfy your needs.” Taehyung said to a group of men sitting in a comfortable couch. Once again, it wasn’t difficult to determine who was the leader among all the members. What surprised you though was his age: he couldn’t be much older than you were.

But then you realized what Taehyung just stated. And especially what he was implying. “Not anything and everything, actually. I’m a waitress, not a prostitute.” You clarified loudly, earning a gaze from Taehyung next to you.

“___…” The tall man warned. But you didn’t care. If he thought you were going to have anything close to sex with the leader of BTS, he was wrong. Terribly wrong. You were not a slut.

You were going to protest once more, but the man in front of you interrupted your confrontation before you could even open your mouth. “You can leave now, Taehyung.” And so did he, without even looking twice at you.

You looked at the man with raven hair still sitting in the couch and gulped. Saying you were not intimidated would have been a lie, but you still managed to warn him. “I won’t have sex with you.” Which made him laugh. A warm and honest laugh. “I know, doll.”

What was with gang leaders and calling girls doll?

“If I can be honest, you’re a very pretty girl. Almost like a doll. Maybe that’s why you earned that name.” You almost slapped yourself in the face when you realized you spoke your thoughts out loud and he heard it. God was probably punishing you for something you couldn’t even remember.

He laughed when he noticed how your cheeks became a deep shade of red, even though there wasn’t much light for him to notice. And again this warm laugh that surprisingly made you want to trust him when you probably shouldn’t feel that way.

The night wasn’t as long as you had expected it to be. Jungkook – that’s how he asked you to call him – wasn’t very demanding. Only a drink now and then. And smiles, a lot of beautiful smiles that would have fooled you on the innocence of the owner if you didn’t know what was hidden behind this endearing behavior. Yet, the man knew he was handsome, and he was taking advantage of it.

But more than anything else, Jungkook surprised you when, halfway through the party, he got up and walked towards you. “This party is boring.” He stated, and you bit your lower lip to hide the smile that was menacing to spread on your face. He was right, but you couldn’t agree with him, in case indiscreet ears had been listening all along.

“Would you do me a favor?” He hiccupped right after saying this, and you had to prevent another smile. “Would you take me home? I drank way too much to drive by myself, and the other members are kinda busy.” They were indeed occupied with girls who were offering them lap dances. A usual for those parties. You glanced back at Jungkook who was now presenting his keys to you.

You bit your lips, trying to think about the best decision to take. You weren’t exactly naive. You knew it could be a way to attract you into his house. But on the other hand, he drank too much to be able to drive his car.

“How can I be sure it’s not a trap? Why would I trust you?” His eyes glinted for a second while looking at you. But he shook his head and answered you, the glint disappearing as quickly as it appeared. “Why wouldn’t you? Did I do anything that would make you doubt me?” He was bold and you were speechless. “I promise I won’t force you to do anything with me, ___.”

You knew that a promise from a leader of a gang didn’t mean shit. But you still grabbed his keys to take him home. At that moment, you didn’t think about how you were going to get home. You didn’t think about the fact you didn’t tell Taehyung you were leaving. You didn’t think about the fact he was a gang leader. You were only thinking about how he already got you under his spell. How dangerously appealing a man like him was. And it was terrifying you.

His house was fucking huge. And that was probably the first thing you said when you both entered his living room. “It’s not really my house. I’m just renting it.”

But it didn’t matter. It was still huge, and you were used to enormous spaces.

“Want something to drink?” Jungkook questioned while moving towards a cabinet where alcohol was probably waiting to be drunk. “Just water, please.” You didn’t want to lose any bit of your ability to make reflected decisions. Not with him around you. Not when you already felt inebriated just by being around him.

“Here, your just water.” He gave you a fancy glass that was probably made in some fancy material like crystal. One more thing that proved Jungkook was probably richer than the Queen of England herself.

“I’m very curious about how you ended up in that gang.” The leader told me after looking at you intently for a moment. “What make you think that I haven’t been a part of this world my whole life?”

Jungkook did not become the leader of the biggest gang by simple luck. It was position that required self-discipline, composure, responsibilities and also a big sense of observation. And analyzing the environment in which he was growing was a talent particularly developed by the leader. “Your manners. And the respect you have towards the others. Towards yourself.” It sounded like a compliment. At least, you decided it was one, especially when you considered how it sounded in his mouth. Like something honorable.

“Just had to make a deal to get my younger brother out of this.” He didn’t answer right away and just looked at you a little bit longer.” So you sacrificed yourself?” You just nodded because, honestly, you never thought about it that way until now. You just wanted Yohan to be happy and live the life he always dreamt about, no matter if you had to abandon your owns dreams in the meantime. “Loyalty is highly appreciated by people like me. What kind of leader would refuse such a deal? Especially when the deal look like that.”

“What do you mean?” You searched the man’s eyes in the mid-light, mid-darkness of the living room and you weren’t disappointed by what you found in them. A pure glint of mischief and amusement. “I meant, who would say no to have a literal walking goddess among their gang members?”

You would lie if you said you didn’t blush because of his comment. Jungkook was a handsome man after all. But you decided to play along, hoping he didn’t notice your actual, flustered state. “So this is it. Your best cheesy pick-up line?”

His next move took you by surprise. He walked towards you, like a predator. And you were clearly his prey. Once he stopped two inches away from you, he captured a strand of your hair between his forefinger and his thumb. You were completely at his mercy, caught in between the want of pressing your body to feel more, to have more of him and the need of taking a step back in fear of ending in a dangerous situation you wouldn’t have the strength to stop. But no matter the risks, he could have done anything to you and you wouldn’t have emitted a single protest. “I totally can do way better, but I’m not sure your heart could handle it.”

You were now as red as a tomato. Everything about him and the way he acted was flustering you. His proximity. His breath brushing against your skin. The way he pronounced every single word delicately. His scent – holy shit, if he didn’t smell like heaven... He was slightly driving you crazy.

But he suddenly took a step backwards and you breathed deeply, feeling free of your movements, of your thoughts once again. “I thought you said you wouldn’t try to seduce me, Jungkook.”

Your pitiful attempt to save what was left of your self-control faded away the moment your host answered you. “I never promised I wouldn’t try to seduce you, doll. I said that I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to.”

And maybe you were naïve, maybe it was stupid to feel that way, but you trusted him. Because at this moment, you really wanted to be there with him. And you were prepared to continue this dance you had with him that was slowly inflaming all your organs, but Jungkook chose this moment to change his strategy.

“Tell me more about you, ___.” This man knew how to keep you on your toes. In all ways possible. “What do you wanna know?”

Jungkook now had made himself something that was probably a strong whisky and was sipping from his glass, not even bothered by the strong taste of it. He was looking like if he was thinking about what he really wanted to know about you. And finally, he seemed to be decided. He pushed his glass away from his mouth and smiled to you. He had a terribly nice smile.

“What do you dream about, pretty girl? I want to know everything about your craziest dreams.”

You weren’t even startled, this time. You were blown away. He was unpredictable. And you were speechless because you never really thought about what you really wanted in life. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to be happy.” You shrugged. It was probably the lamest answer you could have given him. But that was the only one you had in mind at that very moment. Yet you didn’t want to look at his face to discover how bored and disappointed he was by you. So you changed quickly the perspective of the conversation. “What about you, Jungkook?”

Plus, in all honesty, he was unreadable, and you wanted to know more than anything about him as well.

“I don’t know if I can trust you enough for that, love.” Again, one of his pet names. But it was his statement that got your attention the most and made you quirk an eyebrow. “For what I know, you could be gathering information about me for your gang leader. It wouldn’t be the first time a lovely, good-looking girl would try to seduce me in order to ruin me better later.”

Multiple emotions immediately overwhelmed you after his explanation. The first one was astonishment. You weren’t expecting that at all. But it didn’t last for a long time, because right after you felt genuinely upset. How could he even imagine you would play him like that?! But as he told you, he was the leader of BTS – one of the biggest cartels of the country – and he was used to and expected that kind of behavior. From everywhere and everyone. So you couldn’t blame him for being careful. You could even feel your anger slowly fading away to be replaced by something that looked terribly like a mix of empathy and pity. You wouldn’t want to live like that, analyzing every act of every person you hung out with.

You didn’t want Jungkook to know every thought that crossed your mind during this long minute, even though you were almost sure he could read you like an open book. So you just replied with the first thing that went through your head at that moment. “Am I doing a good job though? At seducing you?”

And then you realized. If you wanted him to trust you – and you didn’t even know why you had that want in the first place –, it was the last thing you should have said after his revelation.

You were afraid you already messed up every chance you had of him to open up to you. But you still tried a last thing and got closer to him. Almost as close as he was minutes ago.

“I promise the last thing I want is to ruin you, Jungkook.” It was just a whisper, but you knew the beautiful man had heard it. You were eye to eye, now. You couldn’t be more sincere. And once again, he lifted his hand towards your face, but to stroke your cheek this time. “You’re doing such a good job, love.”

You bit your lower lip, understanding he was referring to your previous question. His hand was still on your cheek, warming your skin. The sensation was beyond pleasant, but you were too close. You definitely were going to get burnt if you stayed there longer. So you pulled away, making sure to keep a safe distance between your bodies.

“Are you trusting me enough to answer my question, now?” You knew it was a bold move, considering your position. You knew he was a gang leader. And you knew you could get in trouble for being insolent like you were. But he made you feel so comfortable you couldn’t help yourself.

“I have everything I’ve ever desired, love. All my dreams became true a long time ago.” He broke the silence after some time of thinking. However, something in the way he said it weren’t right, making you frown. “I don’t believe you. Everybody has a dream.”

“I’m not everybody.” It was his turn to shrug, and you understood you just shouldn’t push it. So you let it go… for now.

You preferred asking him another questions. A lot of questions, in fact. And he asked you many questions in return. The more you talked, the more you felt comfortable around him. And you talked for a very long time. Until an advanced hour of the night – or the morning, you should say. And you secretly hoped he was as charmed by you as you were by him.

“I never thought it would be that pleasant to have a deep conversation with someone.” Jungkook suddenly affirmed. And you were going to comment his insignificant statement by saying something about all the girls he was used to hook up with, but something hit you hard at that moment. Because the thing was, it wasn’t an insignificant statement even if it looked like it in the first place.

“I almost believed you when you told me you didn’t have any dream.” You saw one of his eyebrows raising on his forehead, quietly asking you to go on with that thought.

“That’s actually very funny. Because it seemed like you have everything you’ve ever wanted. You actually do have everything poor people dream about. A huge house. An expensive car. More money than time to spend it. You even have dishes in crystal…” You lifted the glass now full of some random liquor, but the black-haired man interrupted you. “They are in diamonds, in fact.” You scoffed. He was so rich it was almost ridiculous.

Jungkook had to make a movement with his hand to invite you to continue, but not before you rolled your eyes extravagantly.

“You make it seem like you have everything.” You looked once more at the vastness of his living room before turning your head back towards him. “But in your enormous palace, you feel so lonely. And all you really wish is for some genuine soul to keep you company. Am I wrong?” You murmured the last part, but he had no problem to hear it. You weren’t that far away from each other, anyway. And that’s why it took him only half a second to close the distance between you. You were once again too close for your liking. Too close to allow your mind to think clearly.

“You’re a smart girl, ___.” Jungkook stated. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Always feeling terribly lonely. And I never stay long enough in a place to find someone who could become my own home.” You immediately knew he hadn’t been that honest with someone in years. And it warmed your heart that he decided to choose you as a safe place to share his deepest secrets with.

“When do you leave?” You hesitated to ask. But you also needed to know. Your heart was still hammering, harder and stronger every minute passing. “Tomorrow.”

And after all the pounding it has been doing since the leader came closer, it suddenly stopped in your chest.

You couldn’t even hide your disappointment. And Jungkook didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He sighed. It was his way to try to ease the feeling that was overwhelming you at that moment. And in a way, it worked. “I’m still not going to have sex with you, Kook.” You let out a small chuckle, but his laugh never came, in opposition of what you had expected. In reality, he was just stunned by the nickname you just used. It was stupid, but he hadn’t been called that way in years.

“What about a kiss?”

You didn’t even have to answer. Your lips were only inches apart. They were brushing against each other. And when you closed your eyes, he decided it was the only sign he had been waiting for before definitely closing the gap between you.

What was a simple kiss at the beginning became soon enough a stronger and deeper one. With your tongues dancing with each other. With your hands discovering each other’s face. With your bodies pressing and melting into the other one.

While you were moving your lips in synchronization with his, you wondered if he was used to kiss every other girl like he was kissing you. Slowly. Passionately. Deeply. You wondered if he was used to pass his hands in other girls’ hair the same way he was stroking yours. Gently. Tenderly. Lovingly. And you wondered if he was used to lay those girls down like he laid you on his couch. Kindly. Delicately. Cautiously.

And more than anything else, you were wondering how you were ever going to forget about the way Jeon Jungkook was kissing your lips. Like if he owned them. Like if they were made for him.

Getting back to your boring life was hard after that night. You couldn’t stop replaying the kisses you shared with Jungkook. You had to occupy your brain with complex tasks to prevent it from daydreaming about the sensations that overwhelmed you during your make-out session with the black-haired leader. And you would have bet it was a complete dream if there wasn’t the remnant of a small hickey adorning the place where your neck and your shoulder met, reminding you this moment of pure bliss when he sucked and bit on the sensitive skin.

That was exactly why you were at the very moment trying to study in a small café of the town. To avoid thinking about Jungkook. And to physically avoid Taehyung.

Unfortunately for you, the fellow member had noticed you leaving the party with your mission of the night. So it wasn’t a surprise he strongly believed something happened between the two of you. Even though you assured him at least twenty times nothing happened at all. Which was a lie, because you still ended up making out on his couch, but he didn’t need to know about that.

But no matter how hard you tried to push your unwanted thoughts away, every single thing around you reminded you of him. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply before sighing. You missed him so much that you even started smelling his cologne instead of the strong scent of coffee when you perfectly knew he was already far away from this town.

However, when you opened your eyes, you almost jumped from surprise. He was there. Jungkook was right in front of you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You heard yourself saying. You didn’t even process the words that left your mouth. “I don’t remember you being the swearing type. At least, as long as my mouth stay far away from your neck.”

You were speechless. It was all he had to say? You waited a little bit longer for a different answer than the one he just gave you, but he apparently decided to ignore your question. Which pissed you off even more.

So you ignored him back. It was even more impossible to be concentrated on your work now that Jungkook were looking at you from the other side of the table, but you still could fake it. And that’s what you did by typing on your laptop as if he wasn’t even there.

“What are you working on?” The leader asked you. Silence. You saw his fingers starting fidgeting with one of your pens that were lying on the table. You didn’t know if it was to get your attention or a habit of him, but you just ignored it as well, still typing incoherent words on your laptop. “You’re really pretty today.” He added after a few more minutes. You managed to hold back the scoff that was menacing to get out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you tried, your eyebrow still raised high on your forehead. Was he serious? You weren’t even wearing makeup.

Your technique seemed to work because after another long silence, Jungkook sighed loudly and caught one of your hands. “Fine! I just decided we could stay a little bit longer here.”

You looked up to dive your eyes in his and squeezed his hand back. You could pretend you were annoyed with him, but there was gesture even the sanest person couldn’t deny. Holding his hand and intertwining your fingers with his was one of them. “And what made you change your plan?” You questioned, hoping he would admit the reason was you. And because like you, he couldn’t forget about the night you spent together. “Some unexpected meeting, I would say.”

You didn’t have to ask for further explanations, his eyes were saying it all for him, making your heart miss a beat. You would lie if you said he didn’t get you all flustered. But he was used to it now. And so were you.

“I’m gonna let you pretend you’re working now. Yoongi’s waiting for me outside. We have a meeting with your gang.” You looked outside the café and identified the gang member the leader just mentioned. You had a vague memory of Yoongi being at the party your gang had organized the night before.

Jungkook finally got up but didn’t head towards the door of the café as you expected him to. On the contrary, he walked to you, caught your chin between his fingers and bended your head backwards so you were face to face. “You should be careful. That kind of behavior you had earlier could get you into trouble. You’re lucky I’m all wrapped around your finger.”

You didn’t even have the time to process what he just told you before he placed a feather-like kiss on your lips. And with that, he was gone. Leaving you a complete mess on your chair and no way to concentrate on your work.

You decided, at the end of the day (and only at that moment because you didn’t want to seem too eager either), to pass by the general headquarters, which you usually tried to avoid at all cost. But maybe Jungkook was still there, and you really wanted to see him again.

You’re so whipped, ___. You groaned, the reality hitting you. But you couldn’t fight the urge to see him again anymore. There was something about him, you didn’t know what and you didn’t know why but you didn’t want to fight this desire of knowing more and more and more about him anymore. Not after believing you would never see him again.

But the depot where the B.A.F.’s members were always meeting was almost empty. Except for some girls you usually preferred staying away from. You were going to simply ignore them and leave, but you heard your name being called behind you before you could even reach the exit. What the hell did she want?

“I heard about you and Jungkook.” She simply stated. For what you remembered, her name was Yoojin. However, you couldn’t care less at that moment who she was, all you could think about was her statement and the knot it created in your stomach. You didn’t want to get in trouble with her, because you knew that if she decided to start a fight, she would literally ruin you. But even if you were perfectly aware of it, you weren’t going to let her intimidate you. “What about Jungkook and I?”

“Well, it’s a tradition here to tell other girls what exactly happened with a member of another gang. In details.” Her smile was pure evil. It was no doubt she was dying from jealousy. But you honestly couldn’t care less. “Then it’s a shame that nothing happened. At all.”

Yoojin didn’t like you either. You could see it. And you also could see that she didn’t believe you. Once again, you didn’t give two fucks about what she was thinking. You just wanted to know where the rest of the gang were. However, it wasn’t going to be that easy to get answers from her. “What did you do then? Had a cup of tea?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Yoojin. People like you usually can’t.” Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened immediately. Let’s say you already were thinking about the shortest and fastest way to run away from this place. “And what exactly does people like me mean?”

You looked at her for a moment, trying to choose the right words. But it seemed like there wasn’t a right way to get out of this mess. Jungkook was right after all. Your behavior was really going to get you in trouble. “I’m just saying that you can keep acting like a prostitute all you want. But at the end of the day, you will still be remembered at the girl who just opens her legs easily and nothing more.”

You then walked slowly backwards. If there was something you’ve learned during your short life as a gang member, it was to never turn your back to your enemy. You only authorized yourself to do so when you reached the door and grabbed the handle to finally get out. But, once again, she spoke before you could exit the room.

“I hope you enjoyed your time with him, ___. Maybe the current mission is going to be the last one.” It was your turn to be lost. Did she want to scare you just for her own pleasure or was she saying the truth? “What do you mean?”

“They all left hours ago. Had some problems with another gang to solve. And you know how vendettas are… You never know who will return.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was a little bit after three in the morning, and you got woken up by loud thumps against the front door of your apartment. But you found yourself wide awake the moment you discovered Jungkook standing behind the door. And when you noticed he was incredibly pale you immediately forgot it was the middle of the night.

“I was worried sick.” You told him while opening your door largely to let him come inside. “You shouldn’t. You know I’m a rock, love.” His voice was weak and when he took a step forward, he stumbled and caught hold of you to prevent him from crashing completely on the ground. That’s when you knew you had all the reasons to be worried.

“What happened?” You helped him walk towards your bedroom that was the closest room from the door. You made him sit on your bed, but even there you could see it was hard for him to keep sitting straight. “Got stabbed by this fucker. Would have died if Taehyung wasn’t a fantastic shooter.”

He showed you the cut on his stomach. It was deep, and you could see that someone did a poor job at stitching it. “It’s infected.” You stated. It became very clear to you that you had to repair it yourself, and quickly.

You got out of the room to go get your stitches set, which was in your living room with your university stuff. You grabbed it and got back to your bedroom where Jungkook hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m going to take them off and do it myself.” You informed the black-haired leader who was watching your every move.

“How come you have that thing?” He was referring to your set. “Perks of being a medicine student.” Your simply answered, focused on your work. Jungkook was now lying on the bed and you could see him wincing from the corner of your eyes, but there wasn’t any other way of fixing the mess of the wound. And unfortunately, anesthetic wasn’t not supplied with the basic kit.

“I didn’t know that. You never told me.” It wasn’t a reproach, just a statement. “You didn’t ask me the other night.” You were now cleaning correctly the wound, hoping that there wasn’t anything inside of it.

You stayed silent for a moment, you working cautiously and him watching you. You would probably have blushed if you weren’t so concentrated on your task. After a few more minutes, the head of the cartel sitting on your bed spoke again, certainly to forget about the pain your needle was causing. “How come you live alone? I mean, your parents’ house wasn’t that far away from the university…”

“Too loud to study. My father has to invite a lot of businessmen because of his job and my brother always plays music loudly and his friends are always over.” What you didn’t tell him, though, was that you hated that house and all the memories that were linked to it.

“And your mother?” Your hand stopped in the air, the needle still between your thumb and your index, your eyes fixed on his stomach. You didn’t want to look at him at the moment. You didn’t want to show him how vulnerable his question made you. “Wasn’t it written in my file? Because I guess that’s where you found my address?”

Talking about your mother always made you bitter. Always reminded you the wound that was still here. Not a physical one, like the one you were stitching, but a mental lesion. An emotional grief that will always be there.

Jungkook didn’t deny he read your file. It was useless, you already knew it. And you weren’t stupid enough to believe one of his lies, anyway. “It wasn’t. And I want to hear from you anyways.” Was all he said. You couldn’t help it anymore, you had to look at his face. To know if it was just to torture you or if he was sincere. And what you saw on his face persuaded you to trust him. Made you fall for him even harder.

“She died. When I was twelve.” At that moment you had completely forgot that you had to finish stitching him. All you could think about was the moment you entered your house to find her lifeless body. “She was depressed. She just… hanged herself in the living room.”

Your father always had been a work freak, but after that you barely saw him at home.

The tension was thick between the two of you. Jungkook didn’t say a thing, which you were grateful for, and just caressed your face with his thumb. You’ve always hated people trying to comfort you with empty words when there was nothing more to say. And as you weren’t talking anymore, you just started to stitch the wound again.

When you finally finished your task, you cut the thread off and got up on your feet. That’s when Jungkook spoke again. “What the hell are you wearing?” You looked down at your outfit and realized you were only wearing a large t-shirt that once belonged to your brother and that arrived mid thighs and hid your panties. “Have I some competition I didn’t know about?” Your unexpected guest added, still on the bed.

He was literally staring at your legs with not a single ounce of shame. And you would have lied if you said you didn’t like it. “You don’t. At all. I just love sleeping with baggy clothes.” He was still lying on the bed, but sit up the moment you said it, the hair previously resting on his forehead coming in front of his eyes. You were craving to pass your hand in it.

“Great. Makes it easier for me.” You saw a cocky smile appearing on his face. The one that you hated as much as you loved. “Even if I know I wouldn’t have to worry too much.” What a presumptuous bastard. He was still smiling at you, as if he already won the battle. “And what make you so sure about it?”

You weren’t prepared for his next move. Even though the moment he grabbed your hand to pull you toward him you knew he was only waiting for you to provoke him. You were now straddling his legs and your face was only inches away from his. At least for now. “This.”

Jeon Jungkook was definitely the best kisser you’ve ever met in your life. Nobody had ever kissed you the way he did. Like if he was hungry. Like if he was thirsty. Like if you were the best meal and drink at the same time of the whole world.

His lips were surprisingly soft and tasted like cinnamon. He bit your lip and you opened immediately your mouth to allow his tongue to meet yours. You had been craving this sensation for almost one week now so you almost moan when you felt it entering your mouth and grazing your own tongue.

You made out for quite a long time. Exchanging your saliva. Stroking each other’s hair, as you wanted so much a few minutes ago. Sucking on the thin skin of your necks and leaving hickeys.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that. Not with you being hur-” You remembered trying to say at a moment. But you forgot what crossed your mind the moment the man now hovering over you placed his lips on yours once again. And you couldn’t even care less when you felt his hands moving up and down on your thighs. But not once did he get higher than your thighs during your make-out session. Actually, not once did he slide his hands higher during the entire night.

You woke up with Jungkook the next morning. And the morning after that. And again the next morning. In fact, you woke up next to the leader the whole following week. You wanted to blame it on the fact that you had to take care of him, to watch his wound to be sure it was healing correctly. And it was true, in a way. But the very truth was that you couldn’t get enough of him. Especially after the first morning you spent together.

The problem was, Jungkook was very cuddly in the morning. Which would have never been a problem if he didn’t fuel your hormones. With his kisses. And his hands roaming your entire body. His morning boner against your lower back. But that was it. He was only a flirt. Only light touches. Only a tease. And you were sexually frustrated like you’ve never been before.

“Morning.” You heard his voice behind you, spooning being Kook’s favorite way to sleep.

At that point, everything was aggravating the state you were currently in. From his husky morning voice to his fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach. One inch away from your panties.

The kisses he started to place on your shoulder didn’t help soothing your actual mood. Actually it even made him stop all his moves when he felt how tensed your body was. “What’s going on?”

A whole week of frustration, that’s what’s going on. But you weren’t going to tell him. Because as stupid as it was, you didn’t want to admit out loud he was driving you crazy. Or at least, you didn’t want to admit it before he did. And you also didn’t want to lie. So you stayed silent.

You felt his nose running along your skin, from the end of your shoulder to your earlobe, making your body immediately press harder against his. “You smell so damn good.” At that moment you wondered if he knew what he was doing to you. Was this all on purpose? Or was he just oblivious to the sexual tension between you?

“Tell me what’s going on, baby. I can feel how tensed your body is.” Baby. That was a new one. It was always doll or love. Never baby.

Jungkook groaned when he realized you weren’t going to answer his question. And then turned you around so you were facing each other. The only thing you could think about now was how tempting his lips were.

However, when you tried to capture his mouth with yours, he moved backwards, almost making you moan. As if you weren’t already frustrated enough. You finally thought he was going to kiss you when his face went forward, but it was to once more pull back the moment your lips were going to touch.

Jungkook played that game two or three more times until you finally groaned before speaking again. “Are you going to tell me now?” His lips brushed yours again. Your bodies were now so close you could feel every single mechanism of his anatomy. Every breath. Every muscle tensing. Every heartbeat. And if you could feel it, he could probably tell how uneven your heart was thumping in your chest.

His hand on your thigh was a pure torture and made you tighten your legs against each other, afraid that Jungkook would find out what was going on between them in your panties. And at the same time excited and impatient.

Yet Jungkook was still waiting for an answer and you were waiting for his lips to kiss yours. So you just said it. "You just... frustrate me." His eyebrows, that were previously raised in question, furrowed in an instant. "Frustrate?" He was genuinely lost. But after looking at you intently, from head to toe, it seemed that he had finally gather all the signs of your frustration and that realization hit him hard.

A smirk – it was a little one but you still could see it – appeared on his face. He was proud of the effect he had on you, you could sense it with every fiber of your body. “And to think that I was controlling myself because I know you’re still a virgin…”

You were a what? You were taken aback. Utterly speechless. But it lasted only a few seconds, because your first reaction was to genuinely laugh. “I’m not-” You started to say, trying to speak while still laughing. “I’m not a virgin.”

Jungkook was frowning so much his eyebrows were almost touching each other. When your laughter finally died, the black-haired man opened his mouth as if he was going to says something, but he closed it almost immediately. “What made you think I was still a virgin?” You broke the silence. He simply shrugged, or more accurately tried to shrug, because you were still laid on the bed and it wasn’t the easiest position to move shoulders. “I don’t know… You were so against having sex with me I just thought it was because of that.”

“Well… I didn’t know you enough to let you have your way with me, love.” You didn’t even know why, but this whole situation was making you feel confident. You wanted to tease him, to tempt him, to make him beg. But as always, Jungkook found a way to reverse the situation. “And now you would?”

The beautiful man lying in front of you were once again too close. You couldn’t even breathe, so even less think properly. To be accurate, the only thing that was in your mind was him. His lips, his touch, his morning hard-on. And you were almost sure you were finally going to have what you had been craving for days.

“Too bad I have business to deal with.” Jungkook whispered, his breath crashing on your skin. He finally kissed your lips, but it wasn’t enough. It was only a peck, only two seconds of your lips meeting for the first time this morning. And then he was gone, walking proudly towards the bathroom. Because he fucking knew he was driving you insane.

Jungkook got out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Fresh and ready for the day. You were still lying on the bed. Frustrated and upset.

He looked at you from his spot right in front of the door of the bathroom. He didn’t say a thing, and you didn’t want to break the silence. Your ego was already hurt enough. You also didn’t want to show him how bothered you were by his rejection, so you turned your head, avoiding his eyes. And that was what made him react. “Fuck it!”

Jungkook surprised you when he headed toward you instead of the door. He discarded the covers and grabbed your ankles to pull you closer to him. Your lower legs were now falling from the bed, and Jungkook was kneeling between them.

“I can’t fully satisfy your needs, but I can at least make you orgasm once before leaving.” You gulped at his words while he wasted no time to kiss your exposed thighs. You knew what he was up to and you had to prevent a moan to leave your mouth. He hadn’t even properly started, and you were already a mess underneath him.

Jungkook took off your shorts and panties at the same time and tossed them somewhere else in the room. He was going right for it, causing your arousal still there from all the teasing of the leader on you half an hour ago to increase even more every second passing. But that’s when his mouth met your core that you knew you weren’t going to last long.

He was licking you clean, sucking your bundle of nerves, fucking you with his fingers. You were a dessert and he was fucking starving. You were a glass of water and he was thirsty as hell.

You were gripping his hair, scratching his neck. And in response he would groan against your clit, which drove you crazy. It was so good you couldn’t remember your name. Only his. And you were moaning it. Screaming it.

His mouth was perfect. His tongue was heaven; and his fingers were the key of it. The combination of them made you come hard, harder than you’ve ever orgasmed. Your high lasted a long time, and you had to blink a few times to stop seeing stars.

Jungkook was watching you, his frame towering you. He closed the gap between you to kiss your lips, and this time it was a real kiss. A kiss that made your breath even more erratic. A kiss in which you felt your own slit on his tongue.

“See you later, babe.”

Later that day, you received a text from Taehyung saying that you had to go to the headquarters right now. And you knew that you’d better be there very soon if you didn’t want to be in trouble, even though it meant you had to miss some classes at university. The gang was more important. That was the very first rule the fellow member had taught you when you entered the gang.

You were still wondering if you were going to get a new mission when you passed the door of the main room of the building. You weren’t the last person to arrive, but the room was almost full, since Jungkook’s gang was here as well.

You tried to catch the black-haired leader’s eyes, but he seemed to be deep in his thoughts. “Perfect! I think everyone’s here now.” You turned your head towards your own leader, still not sure what was about to happen. “They’re about to make a deal. The big boss always asks the whole gang to be there when it happens.”

You turned around to look at Taehyung who just whispered those words in your ear. He still had a few cuts on his face from the last mission they did. But it wasn’t as bad as the one Jungkook had had.

You were all silent, waiting for someone to start speaking and break the silence. And it finally happened after a few more minutes. “I’m gonna get straight to the point, Daehyun.” Jungkook said, talking directly to the leader of your gang. He was imperious and only someone mad would want to disrespect Jungkook at the very moment. “I know you want to make a deal with our gang. And I’m willing to consent. But I have some conditions.”

The B.A.F.’s leader seemed rather pleased and didn’t even try to hide it. By the face Jungkook’s was doing, you knew immediately he was contemptuous of this kind of reaction. The man you were now seeing for a whole week would have never showed his emotions like that.

You also knew Jungkook didn’t exactly liked your leader, making you wonder why he was accepting such a deal. “Our gangs will be linked. Meaning helping each other in case of problems. Collaborating. Exchanging pieces of information.” Daehyun nodded, his smile still visible on his face. “But I want Taehyung. And ___.”

Not even a fly could have been heard in the room at that moment. The B.A.F.’s leader was apparently thinking about it, trying to take the right decision. “You surely can have ___. Don’t even know why you want her so badly. But Taehyung… You have to understand he’s one of my best members.”

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. What a stupid bastard. “The role of a leader – of a good leader – is to know the qualities and the flaws of each member of their gang. If you would have taken an interest in ___, you would have discovered she’s studying medicine at university. And we all know a good doctor is an advantage you can’t deny in a cartel.”

Your whole body reacted as if it was on fire because of Jungkook’s words. He literally stood up for you, in front of both gangs. In a way, it almost meant more than him declaring his love for you. And the look of humiliation that was painted on Daehyun’s face made you even more ecstatic.

“I want Taehyung, too. And we both know I will have him.” It wasn’t a threat. But everyone could understand and sense the danger in Jungkook’s voice, and maybe Daehyun wasn’t the smartest person you’ve ever met, but he wasn’t stupid either.

So he finally accepted the deal. And that’s how you and Taehyung became a part of BTS.

Naked was the look that suited the most Jeon Jungkook. He was confident and stunning. And he was lying in your bed, his fingers running along your arm after many rounds of rather rough sex.

You were sleepy but you couldn’t resolve yourself to close your eyes and stop staring at your new leader’s face. “You’re so beautiful.” You didn’t even mean to speak, but you couldn’t care less. You thought it with every fiber of your body. “You’re gorgeous. And mine. In any way possible.” Was his reply to your previous outburst.

You quirked an eyebrow, and a playful smile appeared on your lips. “Mmmh, I don’t remember you asking me to be your girlfriend.” He was quick to mimic your smile and get even closer to your body. His head was now in your neck, his lips brushing the many love bites he left earlier. “You know I made you mine the moment I marked you, love. And we both know you love that.”

Light kisses were spread on your light skin, and he sucked one more time. You were tired, but you weren’t going to stop him. “Be my girlfriend, ___.” He wasn’t asking, but he wasn’t demanding either.

“We both know I want it more than anything else.” You answered. He stopped to kiss your neck to smile at you, eyes in the eyes. His smile was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. But a good kind of intoxicating.

“You know you don’t have to stay in the gang if you don’t want to.” Jungkook was serious and sincere. You could see it in his eyes. “I don’t want to leave the gang if it means being a stranger to you.” That was actually your biggest fear at that moment. Jungkook giving up on you.

“You will never be a stranger to me, ___.” He only called you by your name when he was talking with his heart. You learnt it during the short amount of time you spent with him. “Remember the night we met?” You simply nodded, captivated by the way his lips were moving. “You asked me what my dream was. And you proved me for the first time that day how smart you were. How smart you are. I spent my whole trying to find the missing piece. The person who will make me feel like home. And you make me feel like home, ___.”

You couldn’t even describe how your heart was pounding in your chest. Or how you wanted to be one with his whole heart and soul.

“You realized my biggest dream, love. And I want to spend the rest of my life realizing yours.” It was only him and you. Right here and right now. The rest didn’t matter anymore. You were each other’s home. And you were beautiful and strong together.

“So tell me, love. What do you dream about?”

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #mafia au #bts mafia au #jungkook!mafia #jungkook!badboy

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gayregis · 4 years

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Hi good morning can we talk about twn ciri for a sec? There is something about the way she’s portrayed by the actress that just drives me CRAZY and I don’t know quite how to put my finger on it. I think she’s just so reserved and serious and haughty, whereas in the books she’s really playful and lively and exaggerated and just?? Has emotions?? And also I was spoiled by Peter Kenny’s fantastic accent for ciri and can’t think of her any other way. ANYWAY WHAT R UR THOUGHTS CUZ IM SURE THEY’RE GOOD

ohohoh yes. just as a prefacee and for context, freya allan (ciri’s actress) is 18 years old, and i am 19 years old, so to say i didn’t like her acting in twn isn’t me bullying or being harsh on a minor. in addition, i also don’t think her acting was bad. i think her acting was great, but it was just out of character for ciri, at least the ciri we know from the books... i do not think the directors treated ciri with enough weight as she needed to have in the narrative. like with yennefer, they gave her way more screen time and much less significance in the overall story, because the moments that they gave them to be on screen were just pure filler with no effect on the character development, relationship development, setting, themes... the audience never learned anything useful when they were on screen, besides lore about aretuza and cintra that would immediately escape their minds after the episode was done.

i know for a fact that this “out of character” acting for ciri (her being “so reserved and serious and haughty”) was a result of the directors and people running the show, and NOT freya herself as an actress. like with joey batey and anya chalotra i think, they got the short stick in this deal. they’re actors, so their profession is to act, but they don’t always get to decide HOW they’re supposed to act and portray these beloved characters. that’s what the director is for, right? to direct how scenes play out, to make sure the characters are in-character. and the writers are the ones that write the actors’ lines and the scenes they exist in, so “then it’s just like any other place,” or “who’s yennefer,” and other ridiculous garbage throwaway lines were the writers’ fault and not the actors. i just think it’s important to establish that even though yes, freya is an older teenager/young adult, she’s not responsible for a lot of decisions involving ciri and the character. plus since she is 18 and just got done being 17, i feel like this is the first time she’s actually been able to legally make her own decisions.

plus in this topic, because i’ve never mentioned it anywhere before, i’d like to bring light to how it’s super shady of netflix to decide to hire an actress for ciri who is BARELY an adult actor, because child actors (as opposed to adult ones) are restricted by many different laws concerning how many hours they can work, etc. the fact that freya is 18 means that they can give her more work and disregard any regulations that may have applied to a child actor, and i think i literally read this from lauren hissrich in an interview, that “older actors are easier to work with than child actors” or something like this, that it’s difficult to shoot with child actors due to the immense restrictions. so although they phrased the casting choice for freya allan more in the sense of “well, we were GOING to cast someone younger, but freya was just so fantastic in auditions that we NEEDED her in this production” is suspicious to me, i think they did it so they wouldn’t have to deal with the headache of laws surrounding child actors (note that i do NOT doubt that freya is a great actress, i liked her acting, i mean look at the scenes she is in! she is actually acting, unlike henry cavill).

speaking of henry cavill, anyone want to mention his 19 year old girlfriend or his “opinions” on the #MeToo movement? no? my more conspiratorial theory is that they might have just wanted to get a barely legal actress for ciri because if cavill were to “do anything”... ahem... it would be less complicated for all of the legality than if he “did anything” to a child. i’m not calling cavill a r*pist but he has made his views on women explicitly clear, and a LOT falls under the umbrella of sexual assault and harassment. innappropriate comments, etc... i don’t trust him to respect women just as much as i don’t trust him to act.

that was a big preface that pretty much went nowhere, apologies... but i think it’s significant to look at the context around the actor or actress when they’re likely being a tad exploited on set. but yes, ciri does come off as super out of character to me in the majority of scenes she is in. it’s because her character was set up to be a white feminist fantasy of being declared innocent from the sins of her family because she feels bad about it, with her “being so privileged and then she finds out her grandmamma committed mass genocide and she has to realize that her royal ways!” instead of anything related to what we see in the books, of a vulnerable child losing that childhood and trying to cling to some sense of normalcy and family. they set her up as “a princess” and not “a child.”

in the books, she’s just a child, and then geralt learns she’s a princess and teases her that she doesn’t look much like one, being lost in a forest with a snotty nose... she’s not introduced in a royal court surrounded by noble guests. i doubt that books ciri spent all of her time in court, either... according to the lore, she wouldn’t even be able to sit down and she would have to stand in calanthe’s presence (season of storms, the princes must stand in the royal court alongside their father while coral gets to sit because she is a sorceress... of course, this is cidaris and not cintra, but it still stands). she is a princess, but she has difficulty acting like one... it’s something i’d rather erase from my mind because it’s one of those “problematic points of canon that only exist because they live in a medieval society,” but it’s made clear that calanthe gave ciri the belt for misbehaving, multiple times. ciri is obviously interested in more childlike pursuits and acts outside of her station a lot. after all, she is the reason that their entourage got pulled into brokilon in the sword of destiny, because ciri fucking ran away since she didn’t want to be brought to and married off to prince kirsten of verden.

again on ciri’s age, she was 8 or 9 when we first meet her in the books, and 14 when we meet her in the netflix series. that’s a vast amount of difference in age, not only by years, but by development and experience. an 8 year old is a 3rd grader, a 14 year old is a high school freshman. i think that makes a lot of difference in not only how much agency a character is treated with, but how an audience views them. i mean, 14 is a good age for a YA novel protagonist - think harry potter or percy jackson. ciri in the netflix adaptation was set up more as someone relatable (to those younger watching) as she’s like the hero of her own story! she escapes from her evil evil evil pursuers and has this great power she doesn’t yet understand! whereas books ciri is meant more for an audience to feel like geralt toward - protective, parental, you find a child in the middle of the woods, and you’re thinking, “what’s with this... sassy lost child?”

sapkowski is also the master of a good character reveal. i think ciri, cahir, regis, even characters like vilgefortz, have these GREAT reveals as to who they were all along! surprise, surprise, there is no black knight of cintra, it’s just a young man paralyzed with fear and pain! surprise, surprise, the guy that knew a lot about vampires and lived near a cemetery and dresses in all black is a vampire (ok, this reveal is weaker... but you’ve got to admit, the actual reveal scene... alright).

ciri had a GREAT character reveal in the books. since we see everything from geralt’s perspective, she’s just some child, she’s just some brat geralt finds in the wilderness, he doesn’t have ANY reason to feel any sort of way to her, and he practically adopts her and she feels safe with him. he recognizes her vulnerability as a child and does anything to protect her and guide her. this is what is meant by “something more,” their relationship from the beginning was something more than strictly destiny. destiny may have led them together, but it did not make them become family, they did that themselves. and later when geralt learns that ciri is the princess of cintra, the child surprise promised to him, does he even consider destiny as part of the equation. and this is actually what drives them apart, because geralt believes that he will and refuses to ruin her life by introducing her to the blade, and thus, death. because it’s not incredibly special that ciri is a child surprise, i wouldn’t say it’s horribly common, but it’s not like she’s the only one. and she’s definitely not the only child to be taken/taken in and raised by witchers. and geralt knows what being raised as a witcher is like, and he refuses to do that to her, because he actually loves this child as his daughter. and this is where the conflict stems from, because geralt spit in destiny’s face and said, fuck you, i’m not going to hurt this child. and destiny said, i’m going to hurt her anyways.

in the netflix series? the first time we see ciri... is in cintra! the surprise is RUINED!! child surprise, more like child already-revealed. the audience has no reason to watch anymore, because we already know who she is and what happens to her. they literally kill calanthe and eist off in the first episode, and then expect the audience to CARE about them during episode 4 when they adapted a question of price. in the books, dandelion telling geralt the accounts of the massacre of cintra was a heavy scene, it was a tragic scene, and you knew somehow that it was geralt’s fault because of how he had refuted destiny, you had the lore on your side if you had been reading the stories beforehand, you understood why this was happening and what has happened to ciri.

also side note, i sincerely think the massacre of cintra is better coming from geralt’s best friend, someone he’s known for years and trusts immensely, also a poet so his account is horrifyingly immaculate and it really hits that mark of chilling, rather than geralt just... idk being there? i didn’t watch this far but he showed up to cintra and calanthe threw him in jail? this makes no sense, why would she... anyways. but yes, dandelion is a character that serves to be there for geralt, so it makes sense for him to tell geralt about cintra because then geralt can respond and thus demonstrate to the readers/audience all of the emotions about it that he is feeling.

but yeah so to summarize, my thoughts are that ciri really comes off as a weaker character in the netflix series than in the books because:

they treated her as older and introduced her as the lion cub of cintra and not as just some child found in the woods, taking BOTH the “child” and “surprise” out of “child surprise”

they removed geralt’s paternal relationship to her and why exactly he is significant in her story, and hyped up the “destiny” thing instead, which came off as completely meaningless, not to mention annoying to hear repeated when there has been no significance developed behind the word. i mean, they cut out both brokilon and something more (i will NOT accept that scene as the ending scene of something more. that wasn’t a hug fit to pick your kid up from afterschool, much less a hug that you run towards your kid with when you thought they perished and you were responsible for it, when you risked your life just to maybe be able to see them again. there was also no dialogue, no “geralt, you’ve found me! after all this time! i knew it! i’m your destiny! say it, i’m your destiny? am i your destiny?” “you’re much more than that, ciri. much more.” so that sucked).

they chose an older actress for ciri, likely to evade having to respect their actors by working within the confines of child labor laws, but not only this, they treated her older in the narrative and made the viewer empathize with her instead of with geralt, the parent... ciri only is supposed to become a “relatable” character when she reaches 13 or 14, in blood of elves and in time of contempt.

they reduced the significance of how deep her trauma was from the massacre of cintra (she makes one offhand comment about how cahir had a bird on his head... that’s not gonna cut it for me. she’s so far experienced a total of zero nightmares about the black knight of cintra).

they gave her a bunch of filler scenes that had absolutely no impact on the broad story or her character development or relationships with other characters (doppler plot). they also made her arc surround unlearning being a princess and finding what epic powers she might have, and nothing comes from both of these points. she doesn’t develop any character because of these points, they’re just there for more filler.

a tad unrelated but: they made yennefer’s wanting a child more of an obsession than a goal the character just happens to have, and have sexualized her character immensely, moreso than in the books... plus the fact that they made her super appealing to the audience and to every other character including geralt from the start (she’s not someone who is icy at first, then warms up), makes me feel like we are never going to get ciri and yennefer at ellander. ever. i just can’t imagine it with this ciri and this yennefer from the netflix series.

#ask #ciri #the witcher netflix #the witcher #zireaells #geralt

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