#one thing about me is I appreciate the hard work our men put in

[hugejk]

2 years.

due to high demand part 2 !!!! feedback is also very much appreciated <3

cw: addiction mentioned, rehab

||_________________||

After getting settled into your temporary home, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Being woken up to the bright orange sun. You get up. You still didn’t know what to do with yourself. I guess the comments were right. You really do need some professional help.

you just didn’t know where to start, rehab? therapy? checking yourself into a psych ward? You sit at the small work desk at the hotel, clicking the pen and scooting the small writing pad they provided. You assume the best place to start was the addiction problems. You go on your phone and look for places. You find the highest rated one, and call it.

“hi.uhm. i was just uhm… wondering if i can check in? like check myself into rehab.”

the man on the other line told you the process of checking yourself in. You had to go in person and stay there until they think you were better than you had started. This process might take a while. But you’re willing to do it.

You gather your things, planning what you were going to tell the lady downstairs,

“my flight got rescheduled for today.”

“my friend is back at their house i don’t need the room anymore.”

“my parents have a room for me at their place.”

heading out the room and towards the elevator. Spamming the down button to hurry and get to the place. You didn’t care to wear the disguise you had packed. Nobody would see you for a couple more months anyways. At least that’s what you thought.

as the doors opened up, you look up from your shoes and see two young men. One of them wearing a dark beard and the other…well he looks like a kid. Clean shaven face, big brown eyes, short brunette hair.

“that’s exactly what i- wait aren’t you y/n?”

the one with the dark beard said as he pointed at you.

fuck.

“…do you want a picture?…”

you couldn’t even deny it, people recognized you so much now that you can’t say no to pictures, or else people would think your a rude arrogant celeb. And them boom there goes the grammy nomination, the awards, the money. everything you had worked so hard for.

you were so stuck in your head that you didn’t realize he was as talking to the younger one.

“this is the singer i was telling you about just the other day! you know…the one you said was-“

he was cut off by the brunette slapping his arm, giving him the “don’t you dare” look.

“look, i don’t have the time for this, do you want something? i have to be somewhere.”

you didn’t mean to be rude, but you just wanted to be fixed already. You didn’t have time to stop and talk with these guys. You notice the small badge on their nike sweaters.

“oh sorry——you know our football club is sponsored by spotify? you could totally be this years sponsor.”

the beard said to you, side eyeing the brunette and wiggling his eyebrows. Something was up. You just didn’t care enough to ask.

“uhm.yeah. sure whatever.”

you weren’t even planning on making new music anytime soon. you brush it off and push the down button for the other elevator. You didn’t want to be anywhere near a person right now.

now that you were alone in the elevator, you started to wonder and replay how the beard and the brunette were acting. As you got downstairs to the lobby, your worst fear. A packed lobby with screaming people and more guys all wearing the same nike hoodie, that logo.

you make a pit stop at the bathrooms to put on your glasses and mask, there was no way you couldn’t get away from this one. You blend back into the crowd, asking the nearest person,

“what’s this all about?”

“do you live under a rock? this is the best football club of all time right in front of us! FC barcelona!”

that’s when it finally hit you, the logo seemed so familiar. You remember watching a few el classicos with your dad when you were little. How could you forget?

But you had more important things to do that day. You thanked the person who reminded you of the club and went on with your day. Walking with your head down and airpods in, you arrived to your new home for a few months.

you open the door and walk up to the front desk,

“uhm..hi. id like to check myself in..”

you say with your head down, feeing ashamed that you were asking for help. You could’ve done this on your own but here you are.

“okay! before we check you in we’re gonna have to have you fill these papers out, and i hope you know what your doing right now is brave and your in good hands.”

crazy. It’s like the lady behind the desk could read your unsure mind. Her words repeat and bounce around in your head. Taking the papers and taking a seat in the lobby. It was small, and empty.

You have no idea what’s to come but surely it’ll be the best for you.

||_____________________||

tags: @pabl0andm3 @spidybaby @htpssgavi @alexis1taylorr

[trexalicious]

A scathingly brilliant piece from Jan Moir...🤣

Like a cavalry galloping to the rescue of their wounded leaders, former and current employees of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex rushed into print this week to big up their bosses.

In the pages of Us Weekly, an influential American showbiz magazine popular with teens and teen-moms, print and online readers were breathlessly informed by Team Sussex that Prince Harry was a super-great guy, no airs and graces, just a regular dude, rah-rah-rah.

Meanwhile, what about girlboss Meghan? According to those who worked for her and lived to tell the tale, she was completely marvellous, too. No, really. Pass me that halo and let her duchessy love light shine.

For she was kind and thoughtful. She made great gourmet snacks. 'Some of my favourite memories,' said former Archewell president Mandana Dayani, who lasted 18 months until she left in 2022, 'were during our weekly meetings in her Montecito home, where Meghan always served the most incredible lunches and her latest beautiful concoctions.'

I am imagining exquisite delicacies such as 'vegetable soup' and 'green salad', ­possibly even a delightful 'egg‑based ­omelette' sourced from the in-house ­rescue chickens.

As the Sussex staff detailed the ­positives for posterity, it was hard to determine the true nature of their ­relationship with their bosses. Attorney-­client, doctor-patient, jailer-inmate, star-civilian, duchess-serf?

And was it my imagination or were the outpourings of these worker drones ­reminiscent of the rising hysteria of ­someone chained to a radiator in the basement of Archewell Towers, hoping to get home by Christmas?

According to their parti pris gibberish, Meghan was a Tinker Bell of titbits, a Mother Teresa of munificence; this gift-giving goddess who lavished staff with bow-tied presents and on-brand sharing and caring.

'When I adopted my dog, the next day I had a luxury-brand leash and new collar on my doorstep,' said one former staffer, who amusingly thought the gifts were for her pup.

'They want to take care of us,' one ­current employee told Us Weekly. 'Meghan will do things like: 'You mentioned on the call your skin is bothering you. I put together a kit for you.'

Is that being kind and helpful? Is that tending to the pimpled lame – or a tacit message to up their game?

For those of us who have spent a ­lifetime working in offices and assorted workplaces, alongside good bosses and bad, the thought of a superior sending you a tub of wrinkle cream or some self‑improving unguent, well, it just makes me want to die.

But listen, there is more. Meghan, said one staffer, is known for giving credit where it's due.

'If you're in a meeting and a great idea is referenced, she makes sure to give props [respect and appreciation] to the person who generated the idea,' they said. 'And after a big trip, every employee gets a personal email thanking them for their contribution in making it a success.'

An email! Oh, how lovely. Isn't this low-level respect the very least a valued member of staff deserves?

These fawning responses in Us Weekly came in riposte to a ­damning article in The Hollywood Reporter, which stated that the Duchess's 'terrible behaviour' was the root cause of the high ­turnover rate of staff at the couple's Archewell company.

The report in the entertainment industry bible earlier this month claimed that many of those who work and have worked for Meghan are 'terrified' of her. It included quotes from sources calling her a 'dictator in high heels' who ­'belittles' people and has reduced 'grown men to tears'.

I should point out here that Us Weekly is to the Sussexes what Pravda was to Stalin and what The Guardian is to Labour MP Jess Phillips – a blaring bugle of uncritical support. So, we heard in great detail about Archewell team visits to the couple's ­Montecito mansion, where Meghan gave everyone ­baskets of flowers, fruit and eggs to take home. So darling of her! She also passed on her ­children's hand-me downs. Is there no end to her generosity?

One employee even told Us Weekly that despite Meghan's reputation as a mini tyrant, they had 'never' heard her yell. Instead, the Duchess gave her staff 'clear direction and is ­solution-oriented' – which makes her sound like a rather lovely and amenable bottle of glue.

And when it came to hiring staff, another raving Archewell acolyte insisted that the Duke and ­Duchess of Sussex always 'picked the best of the best from every field and watered the seeds for them to flourish'.

But what are Harry and Meghan growing for posterity out there in California – an Archewell empire or a damp squib? Seeds, ­solutions, eggs . . . what the hell is going on?

Of course, these accusations are nothing new to royal-watchers in the UK. The Duchess of Sussex has long been dogged by reports she promotes a toxic workplace environment, along with repeated accusations of what her lawyers insist to this day we must call ­'difficult' behaviour. In 2021, reports that the former actress had allegedly bullied and reduced staff members to tears at Kensington Palace were dismissed by the Sussexes as a smear. Yet it is no secret that the couple have lost 18 employees to date in their short time as a ­company entity in both the UK and the US.

One new American-based source blames 'unbearable' and ­'condescending' Meghan for the alarming 'churn and burn' rate. These rumours just won't go away – but the big difference this time is that it is US news outlets that are making the claims.

Maer Roshan, co-editor-in-chief of The Hollywood Reporter, said he stands by the story after a backlash that included one ­Sussex source saying the claims were 'fabricated'.

Former and current employees of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex rushed into print this week to big up their bosses.

Roshan told Access Hollywood: 'Our reporter talked to a very high-up source who works for the couple and said: 'Everyone is ­terrified of Meghan.'

'Duchess Difficult is a nickname that has trailed Meghan Markle for quite a few years. What is new is that this notion, since coming to America, that a lot of these rumours were manufactured by the Palace – the reporting that we did suggests that probably isn't true and there is still this ­undercurrent of fear.'

Many of you might remember Prince Harry, in his high, tight, aggrieved voice, telling the world in his various documentaries and interviews that: 'There is a ­hierarchy of the [Royal] Family. You know there is leaking, but there is also ­planting of stories.'

Even The Hollywood Reporter, a neutral observer, now raises an eyebrow at this. This is devastating for the couple whose reputation has survived so far by ­blaming their difficulties on the Royal Family and the British Press, instead of examining their own alleged bad behaviour.

Just a few issues ago in Us Weekly, the Duchess of Sussex was smoothing down the pleats on her kilt of no-guilt and telling everyone that she was opening 'a chapter of joy' in her life and that everything was hunky in her dory.

But now – yet again – the ­Sussexes are back at square one; expending time, energy, favours and friends in defending themselves against the indefensible.

We have been here before, we are back here again; swimming against this avalanche of bad press, slaloming though the ­snowdrifts of snark.

It makes me think, was this westward flight by the Sussexes – this bridge-burning journey into what they presumed would be a better, kinder world, patrolled by powerful friends such as Oprah and billionaire Tyler Perry – ­simply fuelled by a lust for praise and admiration that they felt was their due?

Yet no longer can Meghan and Harry present themselves to the world as a couple under siege, a pair of self-righteous smirkers who felt themselves to be the ­victims of racism and bullying.

The Hollywood Reporter has described them as 'poor decision-makers' who 'change their minds frequently', and added that Harry was a 'very charming ­person' but 'very much an ­enabler'. The poor fool.

Duchess Difficult and the ­Enabling Prince? It sounds like a ­terrible Harry Potter novel, only now there is no magic spell to make this fresh stink vanish into the Californian air.

[chloeworships]

I can’t wait to one day be able to tell my Husband of what a blessing he has been to me and our family.

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[lurkingshan]

Knock Knock Boys: The Unexpected Delight of the Summer Season

Who would have thought that this little under appreciated pulp would come in and steal the Thai BL summer season with so many bigger, shinier, more expensive shows on air? Not me! But here we are, and Knock Knock Boys is going down as one of my unexpected favorites of 2024.

I liked this show from the start, with its premise of four men, each dealing with various Life Situations, coming to live together in a shared home and developing natural friendships and romantic attachments. Each episode begins with a cold open that puts us squarely in the middle of their latest shenanigan and then we jump back to work our way there over the course of the episode. The writing is clever, the directing and editing is zippy and fun, and the whole thing is founded on queer and sex positive themes. I expected it to be a sexy, comedic romp with a sprinkle of mystery as we learned more each week about what these boys were running from.

And it is that, sometimes. But it is also a surprisingly touching story of queer friendship and finding yourself and your tribe and building courage to live an authentic life with the support of your loved ones. It's a story about making the effort to understand and giving each other space to figure ourselves out. It's a story about the importance of communication and giving others a chance to come through for you. It’s a story about how true friendship and patience and empathy can empower someone to change their life.

And it's also a touching romance, times two. Latte and Almond were the favorites all the way through for most of us watching, and seeing them go from friends to something more to proper boyfriends was so lovely. What I loved most about their arc together is how gently it advanced; despite Latte starting the show as our resident sexually experienced pansexual, he was also clear that sex and relationships are meaningful to him, and we saw that in how he pursued Almond with utmost patience. Almond was completely inexperienced and fixated on another guy when they met, and Latte was his genuine friend in helping him sort through his feelings and move on from Jumper before he was a prospective love interest. When Almond became more aware of the attraction between them and they began dating, it all felt natural, as did the progression of their physical intimacy. They are precious and their relationship has such a strong foundation that it's easy to believe they'll stay together long term.

Perhaps most surprising to me is how much I ended up loving the Peak and Thanwa romance, as well. Peak's journey, and the way it ultimately landed, is what sent this show into the stratosphere, and it's where that theme about patience that I mentioned above comes through most strongly. For much of their story, Peak and Thanwa were caught in a frustrating cycle of constantly misunderstanding each other, and it was mostly down to Peak's failure to communicate about his family situation and the way it was restricting him. These two kept missing beats, refusing to talk, and hurting each other because they just couldn't get it together to clear the air, and that can be hard to watch episode to episode. But once we have the full picture, Peak's behavior becomes understandable, both to Thanwa and to us, and we can only join his friends in rooting for him and giving him strength to be brave. And he was, in one of the most satisfying and heartwarming scenes I've seen in bl this year.

I just can't recommend this show highly enough, and I've kept things somewhat vague above because I hope more of you will watch it now that it's over and available for a binge. This show is not perfect, but it's so heartfelt and you will be rewarded in the end. You can find the show on Gaga and the small but mighty crew of us regular viewers screaming about it every week in the tag. You don't want to miss it!

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

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[valley-of-headcanons]

The males or ladies seeing you really dolled up, like to the 10s make up and all.

I like to think the Farmer looks pretty beat up and dirty most the time so seeing a dressed up farmer would be different XD

bachelors seeing the farmer all dolled up || headcanons

seeing you all dolled up is enough to floor some of our handsome men <3

warnings: feminine! farmer :) pronouns are gender neutral but the farmer is definitely in touch with their feminine side!

requested by: anon! hi, thank you so much for the request! i decided to just do the guys this time around for simplicity's sake since you said or, but i would absolutely do the bachelorettes if you sent in the request! anyway, hope you enjoy! :)

alex

• Alex would be absolutely floored. As someone who was so in touch with his masculinity that it consumed him at one point, he adored how you looked. The toxicity was behind him, finding solace in his own identity. Watching you find solace in your own identity warmed his heart. Plus, you were gorgeous! Of course he couldn't keep his eyes off of you!

• When he was going to bring you out to a fancy dinner in the city, he was surprised to see you so dressed up. His jaw was dropped, staring at you in awe. He rested his hands on your sides, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. He then moved his hands to your cheeks, giggling like a mad man. He was so excited to see his partner all dolled up.

• “God- look at you. You're so gorgeous- I mean, you're ALWAYS gorgeous, but holy ... you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I just ... I love you. And I'm so glad you put all this effort into lookin' all pretty for me. Now, let's go to the city. I'm gonna show you off, gorgeous.”

• While out on the town, Alex was proud to be by your side. He was enthralled by your appearance, happy to have such a gorgeous person on his arm. All throughout dinner, he complimented you. Every single thing he could think of slid out of his mouth, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles. He was absolutely enamoured by you, regardless of how you look, but this was just something new about you.

elliott

• Elliott is obsessed with you in general, but when you put effort into what you wear or how you present yourself? He kisses the ground you walk on. Of course he wants to appreciate how hard you work, even if it's not necessarily for him. You're so beautiful in his eyes no matter how you look, but he cannot get enough of you when you look like this. Absolutely floored. Awooga, if you will.

• You two were getting ready for an event regarding his latest novel. He asked you to dress nice, but he didn't expect ... wow. You walked out in the most amazing outfit, and your makeup was absolutely phenomenal. Elliott stared, slack-jawed. After a moment of staring, he cleared his throat. He got on his knees in front of you, kissing your knuckles and not even daring to blink. He certainly has a dramatic flare.

• “Oh ... my ... goodness. I have been blessed to witness such a sight. The gods themselves have sent you down to me. For the first time in my life, you have rendered me somewhat speechless. You ... you light up my life every day, and you keep giving me blessing after blessing. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful human being in my sight.”

• While at his book signing, his focus was almost entirely on you. You were just so beautiful, all of his attention was toward you. No one noticed, aside from you. He read an excerpt from his book with a smile, although he did have to peel his eyes away from you. They were planted on you there after, and when he took you home, he showered you with compliments. He was always affectionate, but this just made you even more gorgeous in his eyes.

harvey

• Harvey is an incredibly respectful partner, so he tries to compliment your personality over your looks. You're gorgeous, of course! He would just rather make you feel good about yourself mentally rather than physically, no matter how much he enjoys both aspects of you. But when you look so gorgeous, he can't help but short circuit.

• He wanted to take you to Zuzu City for a date, he thought about taking you to the newly opened aquarium. So, he mentioned the idea to you and you agreed. He didn't expect you to dress so nicely for the event, but when he saw you ... his face was bright red. His jaw was slightly agape, before clearing his throat and attempting to keep his reaction to a minimum. He didn't want to make you think he hated it, quite the opposite.

• “My dear ... you are- ... stunning. I didn't really uh- expect this tonight, so pardon my reaction, but ... you amaze me more and more each day. Your outside beauty certainly matches your inside ... I don't tell you that enough. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I mean that with every fiber of my being. You are so, so gorgeous. Tonight, and every night.”

• Harvey was more than happy to have you on his arm all night. You looked even more gorgeous in the soft blue light of the aquarium tanks. The way your eyes glistened as you stared at the creatures made the shade Harvey's face grow deeper and deeper. It is very easy to get Harvey flustered, you didn't even have to try this time around. He couldn't believe he was with someone so pretty.

sam

• Sam is such a devoted partner, so he tries his hardest to show you affection 24/7. But when you look so beautiful ... it comes out at a rapid pace. He has no filter, and it shows in moments like these. But why would you want to stop the compliments that he throws at you? His intention is to make you feel good!

• He had been invited to a music event, which had a black tie dress code. Of course you were his plus one, and you planned out the most amazing look for the event. And when he saw you ... he didn't really want to go to the event anymore. He just wanted to stare at you for maybe the rest of his life.

• “Holy. Fucking. SHIT! How do you look so good?! Why haven't you shown me this sooner?! My GOD I am the luckiest man on the whole entire PLANET! If I weren't with you right now, I would ask if you're single! And then I'd probably fumble the bag because I don't know how to hit on people- I don't know how I got you in the first place- which is still insane because LOOK AT YOU! Holy FUCK!”

• You two do end up going to the event, but his eyes are entirely on you. Every time the camera panned over to him, his eyes were always on you and talking with you. You were his muse, and the cameras definitely saw that. He loved shooting soft compliments your way, holding your hand and giving you cheek kisses. He is really in love with you.

sebastian

• Sebastian is a pretty nonchalant person, trying his hardest to stay on the "cool" side. You're definitely his soft spot, though. You are strangely good at warming him up. Your personality, your looks, your ... everything. But seeing your looks turned up to ten? Oh, he would not be able to comprehend how amazing you looked.

• Sebastian had asked you to go to the movies with him, there was something in theaters that he thought you both might enjoy. But when he saw you all dolled up for the first time, he was absolutely stunned. Sebastian had a whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn't come out properly. His face was blank at first, before slowly growing pinker and pinker. He tried to turn his head to the side, shielding it from your view.

• “... you look really, really pretty. All this for a movie date? I-I didn't really go all out, but I can go back and change ... sorry, I shouldn't be hiding my face. I'm just flustered and shit ... you're too gorgeous to handle, I guess? God- that was stupid ... you've got me fumbling with my words again. I can never be cool around you ... maybe that's why I like you so much ... now- let's get going, gorgeous. Don't wanna be late now, do we?”

• During the movie, it's safe to say Sebastian couldn't concentrate. His fingers were interlaced with yours, trying to watch the movie. However, he made several glances your way, taking a peek at his lovely partner. He was down excruciatingly bad for you, it was pretty obvious. He made sure to give you a few kisses on your cheek and forehead, a token of silent appreciation for the work you put in. He was so happy to be with you, regardless of how you look.

shane

• Shane would probably not give much of an external reaction. He's not a very expressive person, but his mind ... oh, he would be exploding at the seams. He loves you regardless of how you look, and he finds you remarkably beautiful either way, but he can't help but feel his heart pump a little bit faster when you're so gorgeous.

• When you two were about to go out for a date night, he didn't give you a dress code necessarily. He didn't tell you what you two were doing either, he decided to surprise you. So, you'd rather be overdressed than underdressed. But when Shane saw you ... his face flushed a gentle pink and a soft smile lingered on his lips. He couldn't speak for a moment, taking in your beauty, and letting his mind reset.

• “Wow ... aren't you somethin'? ... I didn't expect to see you all dolled up tonight, but ... wow, I am so glad I am. You're beautiful, by the way. If you didn't know that by now, you're fuckin' stupid. And I'm fuckin' stupid for not matching you. Let me change into something a little more fancy than just some jeans. I know, you're making me step outta my comfort zone ... but you deserve it. Especially when you look so beautiful.”

• While on the date, he tried to keep his comments on your appearance to a minimum. He didn't wanna be too overbearing, but he didn't want to make it seem like he didn't care. He was definitely overthinking this, but ... when he made eye contact with you, he realized everything was fine. You were just so gorgeous, his mind was absolutely boggled. He couldn't believe the person he loved the most had the added bonus of being so stinkin' cute!

[vintageshanny]

For the First Time

Content: 18+ This is a one-shot about Elvis losing his virginity. I do not claim to be an expert on the details of this. I have heard different rumors, and this is, to me, one possibility of how things might have happened. There is smut in this, but I’m more focused on how he might have been feeling at this time. As always, my tender little heart bleeds with love for him and everything he went through in his life. I would very much appreciate any feedback. ❤️

Thank you @lookingforrainbows for talking me through ideas on this and letting me know it didn’t sound ridiculous. You are a beautiful soul. ❤️ 😘

Fall 1954

Elvis ran his fingers over the outline of the condom package that Scotty had slipped into his pocket at the beginning of the tour. “I know ya got a girl, EP, but put it in your wallet man, just in case. Ya don’t wanna come back with more people than ya left with,” he’d added with a wink. Somehow rubbing his fingers over the rough edges calmed Elvis’ ragged nerves a little bit.

His mind drifted to Dixie and the promises they’d made to each other. To wait. To wait until they were married to consummate their relationship. Sure, they were affectionate with each other, always hugging and kissing, but whenever Elvis tried to sneak his hand up under her skirt or unbutton a couple buttons on her dress, she’d firmly push him away and say, “That’s for our wedding night, silly.” Sometimes when they were kissing, she’d let him grind against her through their clothes, and he’d get so worked up that he needed to make an excuse to go to the bathroom so he could relieve the amount of passion coursing through his entire body.

The promise to wait had seemed so much easier six months ago when they talked about it. Now, it was damn near impossible. He saw the way these girls looked at him after the shows. He was dying to know what it felt like to explore every part of a woman. He thought maybe if he just got this out of his system, the waiting with Dixie wouldn’t be so hard. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was a man after all, and she didn’t need to know about this. He could experience this on the road and be good for her at home. He just needed to find a way to make sure everyone was happy and taken care of, like he’d always tried to do.

Dropping the condom onto the rumpled bedspread, he rose from the edge of the bed and started pacing the hotel room, the voices floating up from the courtyard below making his heart thud in his chest.

“Maria! You came!” Scotty’s reedy voice rang out.

“That’s the idea,” Bill added, only slightly under his breath.

“You should head right up! Elvis should be waitin’ for ya. He’s been waitin’ a looong time.”

Elvis cringed at Scotty’s words as he looked out the window and saw the two of them clink beer bottles and laugh.

Maria paused and turned to look at them, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “What’s that supposed ta mean?”

Elvis held his breath, willing Scotty not to divulge too much. He’d never come right out and told the guys he was a virgin, but he saw the way they nudged each other and smirked whenever he was talking to a girl after the show. He slowly exhaled as Scotty responded.

“Aw nothin’, honey, I just hope you two have fun on your date.”

Maria rolled her eyes and headed for the stairs, carefully ascending them in her white kitten heels. She took a deep breath, smoothed out her pale yellow sundress, and tried to brace herself for what was on the other side of that door. She had been with a handful of other men, but this was a bona fide star. He probably invited a different girl up every night. Maybe that’s what the other guys had been joking about. She hoped she would live up to his expectations, especially after her bold proclamation earlier. The conversation replayed in her head as she lifted her hand to knock on the door.

“Hey baby, I could see ya dancin’ from up on that stage. Looks like ya really enjoyed the show.”

“I sure did. Maybe I can return the favor with a show of my own.” A sense of satisfaction had consumed her when he unexpectedly blushed at her advances.

Maria’s mind snapped back to the present as Elvis flung open the door. He was wearing black dress pants with a pink jacket open to the naval. As he rested one hand slightly below his hip, she took note of his long slender fingers, nails chewed down to the nub, and the fuzzy little trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Up close, and in the fluorescent lighting of the hotel, she could see he had a pimple on his chin and another close to his collarbone. The entire scene was absolutely intoxicating.

“Maria, I was startin’ ta think ya were gonna stand me up, baby.” Elvis flashed a crooked little grin and stepped aside to let her in the room. He quickly kicked a stray sock under the bed where he’d hidden the rest of his dirty clothes. After sniffing each pair of socks, he had decided it was best to just stay barefoot after his shower. His toes scrunched up at the feel of the rough carpet under his feet.

“No, of course not,” Maria giggled nervously. “I suppose I just took too long tryin’ ta look nice for ya.”

“Well ya sure do look nice, honey,” Elvis whispered lowly as he closed the door and grabbed her by the waist, feeling the soft flesh of her hips. He leaned in and smushed his lips into hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth when she let out a little gasp.

“Wow, you don’t waste no time gettin’ to the action, hmm?” she laughed a little bit when he finally pulled back for some air, his eyes closed. His hands had moved up a little bit, his thumb gently rubbing at the side of her breast.

“I-I-I thought that’s what ya wanted, baby,” Elvis stammered out, trying to read her expression. “If you’d rather just sit and talk, that’s okay.” He led her over toward the bed, and they both spotted the condom at the same moment. Elvis’ face turned bright red as he snatched it up. “Oh, I-I-I’m sorry baby, I d-d-didn’t mean ta leave that there like that. We really ain’t gotta do nothin’, I-I-I mean-”

Maria just laughed and pushed him gently backward until he was sitting on the bed. “It’s okay, Elvis.” She unbuttoned his jacket the rest of the way and slipped it off his shoulders. “I always make good on my promises.”

Elvis stared in awe as she reached behind herself and unzipped the yellow dress, letting it fall to the ground, revealing a silky pink bra and panties. Elvis gulped nervously as he stared at her body. The material was so thin and sheer, he could see the outline of her nipples and the little mound of hair down below. He stifled a groan as he could feel his cock growing hard, straining against the briefs that he now wished he’d forgone.

“You’re really gonna make me put on a show for ya, huh?” Maria teased as Elvis just sat there studying her. “I thought ya might join in.” She reached back and unclasped her bra, her perky breasts now on full display for him.

“I-I-I’m sorry honey, ya jus’ got me a little speechless here. I’ll join in,” Elvis murmured as he pulled her closer to him. He tentatively leaned in and took one of her nipples in his mouth, caressing it with his warm tongue.

“Mmm, that’s more like it,” she whispered. “You can touch me anywhere, Elvis.” As she grabbed his hand to guide it toward her panties, she realized he was literally shaking with nerves. “Elvis? Are ya okay?” As she looked at him with concern, the meaning of Scotty’s “He’s been waitin’ a long time” suddenly hit her. “Are you, I mean, is this your, um, first time?” she asked softly.

“Wh-wh-what?” Elvis exclaimed, jerking his trembling hand away. “N-n-no baby, I-I-I’ve been with plenty of girls. I-I-I jus’, um, I mean, n-n-none as beautiful as you, that’s all,” he stammered out, trying to distract her with a compliment.

Maria wanted to tell him it was okay, that she was flattered, that he didn’t need to be nervous, but she decided it was best to just drop it and help him relax. She smiled and nodded. “You’re sweet, Elvis. I wanna see if ya taste sweet too.” She dropped down to her knees and unbuttoned his pants.

“Wh-wh-what are ya doin’ honey? Ya ain’t gotta do all that.” Elvis heard the words come out of his mouth, but somehow his body’s desire betrayed him by lifting slightly off the bed so Maria could pull off his pants. His heart raced anxiously as she reached inside of his briefs. He knew from being in the locker rooms back in school that not everyone had a sheath of foreskin covering their dick, and he hoped she wouldn’t mock him the way some of his classmates had.

Maria could feel her panties getting wetter by the second as she wrapped her hand around something thick and warm inside Elvis’ briefs. “We should just get these outta the way,” she murmured, pulling them down his legs and watching as he sprang free from the confinement. Her eyes widened with surprise when she realized he was not…well, not like the other guys she’d been with. There was something extra wrapped around him. She liked the way it felt as she pumped it with her hand.

Elvis squinched his eyes shut, too afraid he’d see a look of disgust before she jumped up and ran off. Instead, he felt something warm and wet wrap around his hard dick. He opened his eyes to see Maria taking him deep in her mouth, and the moan he let out made him kick himself for not closing the window tight. The whole hotel must know what’s going on in here. Her tongue traced its way around his shaft before taking special care of his sensitive tip. Elvis thought he might explode right on the spot as she sucked on him.

“You do taste good y’know,” Maria said with a little wink as she pulled off him and stood up again. She slid her dampened panties down and stepped out of them, so they were both totally naked. “Do you wanna check if I’m ready for ya?” Elvis nodded and this time let her guide his hand between her legs.

“Baby, it’s so wet down there,” he murmured as Maria started moaning. He found her entrance and slipped a finger inside of her, moving it in a way that felt natural. She felt so soft and silky, he thought he could just play with her pussy for hours. But Maria wanted more than a finger.

“You should slide right in then,” she whispered as she moved his hand and laid down on the bed next to him. He grabbed the condom again and opened it, rolling it onto himself, hoping Maria couldn’t tell he’d never done this before. Maria smiled at the awkward way he put on the condom, and noticed that she could feel him trembling again. “I want it so bad, Elvis,” she reassured him, pulling him on top of her.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Elvis reached down and guided his dick toward her slick opening. Once he’d gently pushed in a couple inches, he thrusted in the rest of the way, her wet pussy consuming his entire length. “Oh, goddamn,” he moaned out, unprepared for the feeling of something so tight and wet wrapped around him, clenching at him. He tried to take it slow, tried to make it last, but the pleasure was overpowering. He thrust a few times before his orgasm completely took over, leaving him panting on top of Maria, his sweaty hair dripping down onto her forehead.

“Oh wow, baby, you are amazing.” Elvis slowly pulled out and rolled to his side. He carefully peeled off the condom and tossed it into the trash can by the bed. “I-I-I’m sorry, I usually l-l-last longer, I jus’, uh, got so excited,” he tried to explain, his face turning red from the lies and the exertion.

Maria just smiled and patted his chest. “That’s okay, I thought your excitement was very sweet.” She hesitated, then added, “Do ya think you could, um, help me get there though? Your fingers felt magical inside me,” she admitted with a blush.

“Really?” Elvis perked up at the compliment. “I mean, of course baby.” He reached over between her legs and started playing with her pussy again, taking mental note of what seemed to work the best. She moaned deeply when he put a finger inside her, but he noticed that her toes curled up and she could barely even function when he rubbed at her little button. I wonder what both at once would do. He kneeled next to her and put two fingers from one hand inside of her while his thumb on the other hand worked that little nub.

“Oh, God!” she cried out in ecstasy, her legs shaking, her arousal leaking out onto his fingers. “Oh Elvis, I c-c-can’t take it,” she moaned, begging him to stop. Elvis removed his fingers and smiled, very pleased with his ability as he leaned down to kiss her soft lips.

“Was that magical enough?” he whispered in her ear.

“Pure magic.” Maria pulled him in for another passionate kiss.

“C-c-can I ask ya somethin’, honey?” Elvis gently stroked Maria’s arm with his fingertips. “After talkin’ to ya, ya seem like such a nice sweet girl. Wh-wh-why did ya do this with me?”

Maria tried to sort out the thoughts in her head, wondering how much she should share. “You seem like a nice sweet guy. Why did you do it?” she finally asked.

“W-w-well, that’s different, I mean, I…I wanted ta feel good I guess,” Elvis stumbled over his explanation, unable to really articulate what he was feeling at that exact moment.

“So did I,” Maria responded. “Elvis, I’ve been through some really bad experiences. I suppose at heart I’m just lonely and this is a way to feel close to someone, to feel connected and cared for, even if just for a little while. Ya know what I mean?”

Elvis swallowed a lump in his throat. It was like she had put his exact thoughts into words. “I know exactly what ya mean, honey. Does it work? Ta make ya feel close ta someone, I mean?”

Maria let out a little sigh. “Sometimes. Sometimes not so much. But we all just try the best we can, I suppose.”

Elvis nodded as Maria stood up to get dressed. “I should get home. My mama will worry and wonder where I’ve been.”

“What will you tell her?” Elvis asked as he pulled his clothes back on.

“That I was having a deep conversation with a friend,” Maria laughed. “Y’know, not really a lie, but not the whole truth. Not everyone needs ta know everything.”

“Will I, uh, will I see ya again at another show?”

Maria smiled and hugged him tight. “Maybe. But maybe we were just the connection the other needed in this moment.”

Maria paused at the door and looked back. “Elvis?”

“Yeah, honey?” Elvis’ mind was a muddle of confused emotions right now.

“You are very sweet and very special. Never let anyone make ya feel like that ain’t enough.” That crooked little smile would be burned into her mind forever.

Twenty minutes later, Elvis descended the steps to the courtyard, wondering what the guys were up to. Scotty and Bill were playing cards when they saw him approaching and started a round of applause. “There he is!” Scotty yelled out. “I told ya that condom would come in handy.”

“Aw quit it,” Elvis snapped, but he couldn’t deny feeling a tiny surge of pride at being considered “one of the guys” for the first time in his life. He couldn’t see it now, but over the years ahead, he’d sacrifice so much for the desire to fit in, to connect with people, to wish they could understand him. What he’d give for just one person to really understand what he was going through. To understand his heart.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114 @atleastpleasetelephone

[ameagrice]

DAYDREAM

CHAPTER ONE | “What The Dormouse Said.”

It happened at six o’clock, November third. The sun was setting; the air was cool; the hit to the head was harsh, and quick. She thought of how lucky she was that the Handler was in the area. After all, that woman saved her life. Frankie owed her a debt.

And the Handler ensured that Frankie paid it off.

It started as field assignments—poisoning here, hiding there. Anything to keep the timeline together, only the one at first. Later, things changed; suddenly, Frankie was assigned work with the Infinite Switchboard, watching for anomalies in the timeline and defecting them.

Her life, put simply, was boring. Medication for her state, a lifetime of servitude to the Commission, and free pastries on Monday mornings, proceeded by flicking through timelines and noting anything out of the ordinary.

Anything could be an anomaly, which was why, when the radio in the cafe mid-evening croaked out the news of Sir Reginald Hargreeves’s death, Frankie figured it must have been an anomaly, because that man simply wouldn’t just die. Nonetheless, the news reports continued into the night and until morning, floating from paper to screen through the week until eventually, it stopped.

The sun shone for the first time that week on the last day of it, a beautiful Sunday. Dressing, fumbling with her jacket sleeves on the way down the stairs, Frankie Jones made the time to collect her mail. She made the time to sort through it, abandoning the junk and sitting at the bottom step of the porch to address the milky-white envelope, her name stamped across the paper. Fingers slipped under the lip of the note, avoiding a paper cut, pulling out the single, lopsided note inside.

THE OLD MAN IS DEAD. WE THOUGHT YOU WOULD APPRECIATE COMING TO HIS FUNERAL THIS SUNDAY. HAVE A GREAT DAY! (It’s at the same address. The stingy bastard refused to move).

— KLAUS.

And so, her life grew interesting.

· ─────── 𖥸 ─────── ·

As it turned out, she arrived far too late.

The foyer of the building she neglected to step foot in for twenty-two years was…empty. From what Frankie remembered of the place, it was just as echoing and cool as it was back then, and just as quiet. Sir Reginald Hargreeves liked his silence and solitude, and inflicted his ideals on the wards residing in his home.

She wandered around and around the seemingly empty home until her eyes found the family in the kitchen. Three men, two women and a young man. Quiet as a dormouse, Frankie waited in the doorway, just until somebody noticed her. First, the tall, muscular man, also known as Luther Hargreeves. Eyes blown and hand raised, shaking, he pointed at her, and the others followed his action to face her. It was like being behind glass in an aquarium.

“Does anyone else see the child in our kitchen?” He blurbed.

The one with dark hair, dressed in black, hummed. “Girl Scout gone lost, maybe?”

“Could be an orphan, looking for the money of Sir Reginald Hargreeves—” the one in the skirt said.

They wouldn’t have remembered her rightly anyway—they had all been too young to recall her, just as she had almost forgotten them. All born on the same day, at the same time, but only one lacked anything real.

“I’m eighteen. And you sent me a letter, Klaus Hargreeves.”

Said man gasped dramatically, inhaling so hard he coughed and spluttered, falling backward off the table. Klaus landed a mess of long limbs on the floor, at the feet of the young man Frankie barely recognised. Klaus’s hands grasped at the table ledge, pulling himself up.

“Little Frances? Shouldn’t you be…bigger?”

“Shouldn’t you be a little more dressed for your dad’s funeral?”

“I’m sorry,” said Allison Hargreeves in an expensive outfit, hair glossy and set. “Why are you, like, twelve? I mean, Five’s explained to us about himself, but…are you a ghost? I mean—”

“She works for the Commission.”

The room grew silent, but the boy did not.

“She travels through time,” he turned his dark eyes to her. Five Hargreeves, the image of sophistication and mess all at once, a twenty-year-old in oversized clothes eating a peanut-butter sandwich. His eyes turned flinty, jaw set. “Isn’t that right, Frances?”

And, well…

She couldn’t say no.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've had a headache every day this week. I swear I want one good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit on the sofa, the bird still firmly perched on your shoulder. Bragi shows you the twelve-string, strumming lightly between stories about his travel abroad. Laufeyson glowers as he sits in the high-backed chair recently cleared of its clutter. The stout blond is quite talkative, it makes you wonder why your boss even brought you here.

"I'll be playing at Walpurgisnacht, so you will see me tomorrow," Bragi stands and places the guitar in a stand among several other stringed instruments, "perhaps Fossegrim will come too... he likes to sneak into my bag."

The bird squawks and tilts up and down.

"Likes you too," Bragi remarks. "Not as fond as your companion, I'm afraid."

Laufeyson shifts with a huff, "shall we continue to ramble? I did come for a reason."

"I nearly forgot," Bragi declares, "you requested it so long ago I nearly forgot."

"Yes, well, I left in a hurry my last visit and could not drop by, my apologies," Laufeyson rises and dusts off his trousers.

"Right, up in my office."

They leave you without much regard. You set aside your empty cup as Fossegrim rests his beak against your hair. He is rather big, your shoulder is sore from his weight, and yet he is comforting. You sit straight and hold out your fingers shyly. He bends to touch them and dips his head. You pet his feathers, uncertain what to do with yourself.

You hear a thump from above and a grunt. You look up as the bird hops down to the cushion. You rub your hands together and stay as you are. You don't want to intrude, besides, the place is so crowded, there isn't much space to move. 

At last, you hear the stairs creak and the men's voices precede their reappearance. Laufeyson holds a wrapped parcel under his arm as a shank of hair hangs past his ear, dangling along his cheek before he sweeps it back. You wonder what happened.

"Sorry about the rug," Bragi chuckles as he scratches his neck.

"Yes, not to worry," Laufeyson dismisses, "as it were," he looks at his watch, "my mother will be less impressed with our delay."

"You will send my regards," Bragi smirks crookedly.

"I will let her know we saw you," he retorts, "let us be off."

He waves you over. You say goodbye to Bragi as you cross the room and the parrot wings over your head, rustling your hair as he lands on the banister post once more. He lets out a chitter and receives a hush from his owner.

"Best go before he grows more obnoxious."

You offer a tight smile as Mr. Laufeyson opens the door and you step outside. It's dark and the moon beams down brightly. You silently descend the steps and near the car. He doesn't say a word as he unlocks the door and you climb in opposite him.

He starts the car and steers onto the street without a word. You feel as if you've done something terribly wrong. You look at your lap and drag your sweat palms over your skirt.

"We need to be very clear about things, pet," he begins as the leather squeaks beneath his grip, "tomorrow, you must stay close to me. No more breaking the rules."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I'm sorry--"

"Do you remember the rules? That I asked you to be honest with me," he hisses, "yes? I know you recall, you are brighter than you look, aren't you?" He slaps the wheel, "if you need... time, or anything, you can tell me. You must tell me otherwise... otherwise how can our arrangement work? If I am ignorant of what you require, how can I provide it? You cannot be upset that I do not know."

"I... I'm not upset," you murmur.

"Yes, but if you were upset," he exhales heavily, "then I would like to know the reason for it. I--" He stops himself and shakes his head at the road, "I am only saying, if there is some issue between us, you cannot merely run away and hide."

"I didn't--"

"Yes, yes, you were reading," he cuts in, "I do hope you enjoyed your little story."

"It won't happen again, Mr. Laufeyson," you avow.

He takes a deep breath, "that's all?"

"I... I'm not upset, I said, I only..." you mull the words on your tongue, wondering if they'll even matter. "I've never been far from home."

He nods as he slows, idling at a sign, "very well."

You accept his response as he accepts yours. Tension lingers but neither of you wants to add to the boiling stew. So you look out the window and he glares out the windshield, driving on in repressed agitation.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson leaves you alone that night, bidding you to keep the door locked and nothing else. You know for certain he's unhappy with you. You've already put a damper Walpurgisnacht and it's not even begun.

You sit in the small cone of light cast by the lamp and try to read but find the task impossible. So you tuck away Jane and her troubles and lay down to sink into your own. You don't see the next day going well at all. No better than any that have come before.

Perhaps it might be better if you found a reason not to be there. You could keep the white dress on the hanger and just stay inside where you can't do anything wrong. No one would miss you very much.

It's Frigga's celebration and you aren't an Odinson, no one would know any better. Mr. Laufeyson would be free to enjoy himself and not worry about you irritating him. That's all you seem to do.

Your eyes close heavily and you tumble down into a turbulent sleep. Dread colours your dreams and wakes you several times in the grim hues of the moonlight. The fitful night drags on into a dull morning, shining over you until it sears through your eyelids.

Walpurgisnacht. April 30th. A day that feels like a page turning.

You sit up and sift slowly through the early hours as if wading through sand. You wash and ready in the bathroom, ignoring the memories of two nights ago, the echoes of your whines, and the coiling of his touch. Now, he won't even use you. This could be it. When you leave this place, you may also be departing this life. It might just be for the better.

The event doesn't begin until the afternoon. Frigga said as much before. So you pull on a pair of tan pants and a peachy shirt. You near the door but don't flip back the lock. You should wait for a cue. For permission.

You stand at the window and watch the day bloom. The dew gleams on the leaves and petals and the air is fragrant with spring. Oddly, it does feel refreshing.

There's a soft tap, one you're not certain you heard. You turn and lean on the window ledge and hug yourself. It comes again followed by your name. Mr. Laufeyson's voice is just as even-keeled as the night before. Empty of any expression. That's worse to you than anger.

You emerge, head down, and bid him a good morning. You're met by a curt 'morning' and he ushers you down the hall. You smell bacon as you descend and the crackle of grease hisses in a pan. You walk side-by-side with Laufeyson out onto the veranda.

Odin sits, stirring a cup of coffee with a silver spoon.

"Ah, good morning," he chimes, "Joyous Walpurgisnacht!"

"Yes, happy day," Laufeyson intones and sits. You take the seat at his shoulder.

Your attention is drawn by men in work clothes out in the yard. They must be setting up for the celebration. You wonder how you should ask to excuse yourself from the event. You might pretend to be unwell. You don't entirely feel great.

"Happy Walpurgisnacht!" A thunderous boom makes you jump and grab Laufeyson's arm. He merely groans as Thor approaches and drags out a chair, dropping down with a sigh, "father, brother... lady, isn't it a wonderful morning?"

"Son," Odin squints at his son's open shirt, his chest shamelessly bare to the sunlight.

"Mmm, coffee," Thor pours from the carafe then adds a handful of sugar cubs to his cup. Laufeyson helps himself to tea before offering you some with a twitch of the spout. You accept with a nod and a please.

"Coffeeeeee," an echo drawls in the air as Hela strides in, chewing a strip of bacon absconded from the kitchen.

"Ghostly as ever, sister," Thor guffaws.

"Ugh, must you?" She snarls as she slumps into a chair, "ew, do those buttons not work?"

Thor smiles as he looks down at his torso, "it's warm."

"Or maybe it's the hot air stuck in your head," she retorts.

"Children," Odin rebuffs, "please, it is a holiday. Let's try to get along."

Laufeyson says nothing as he sips from his tea. You peek at him, finding his eyes narrowly set on his father. Another twinge pinches in your chest. You hope you haven't made things worse between them.

"Oh, we are all here already," Frigga flutters in, canary fabric swishing around her, "wonderful."

"Wife," Odin outstretches an arm and she goes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Mother," the siblings murmur in unison as you eke out her name.

"We will begin breakfast soon, I just checked with the staff, it is almost ready, but first," she pokes her elegant nail in the air, "there is one matter I need attend to. It won't take very long at all."

She smiles at Odin as he returns the sweet expression, then her eyes meet yours. Her cheeks pinken just a little. She sweeps away and disappears through the open doors. You hear her trill as she speaks to the staff.

"She is up to something," Hela slithers.

Laufeyson hums in agreement.

"Father," Thor peers over at Odin as he brushes his fingertips over his beard.

Odin shrugs, "I haven't any idea."

"Liar," Hela accuses, "you are not so sly as you think."

"I swear--"

"He definitely knows," Thor insists, "Loki, doesn't he? You see it, can't you?"

"I suppose..." Laufeyson squints and lets his voice dissolve into nothing.

"Here we go..." you hear Frigga chime before she appears again, "happy birthday to you..."

The song begins as two maids carry between them a double-tiered cake decorated with perfect white dollops of icing topped with raspberries. Your stomach gurgles and your chest racks as you sit up, caught in headlights as Thor and Odin join in on the melody but Hela and Laufeyson merely lean forward curiously. You gulp and look down at your lap.

As Frigga leads the chorus into your name, your shoulders slope and you turn your face away, tears stinging your eyes. How could she know? As nice as it all is, it's too much. You don't deserve any of this.

"Birthday..." you hear Laufeyson whisper quizzically.

You brace the armrests and push yourself to your feet as the song ends and the cakes placed before you. Your lips tremble as you look around the table. You can barely squeak out your apology before you flee, Frigga's hand glancing off yours as she tries to stop you.

You hurry away from the veranda, hurtling up the path blindly. You plunge into the brush and around the curving trails, retracing the same route Odin led you the day before. You clamour up to the gazebo and hide within, collapsing onto a bench as you fold over and shield your head.

Why would she do it? You don't matter! It's all too much. You don't want to pretend anymore. You don't want to act like you belong. You want them to let you go. You want Laufeyson to just do it already and throw you away.

You sit, bent over, weak and shaking, just breathing, paralysed. You hunch amid the songs of birds and the rippling of water. You can't move. You just want to stay and never come out.

A scuff makes you flinch. You lift your head to look over as a shadow steps into the archway. You raise yourself up straight and face Mr. Laufeyson.

"I didn't know it's your birthday," he says.

You don't say anything. Why would you tell him? Why would he care?

He lowers his chin, sliding his hands into his pockets as he steps into the stone structure, "if I'd known--"

"It doesn't matter," you say, "it's just another day."

"Mm, well..." he begins in a fragile tone, "I wouldn't agree. Birthdays are special..."

"Not mine," you pout.

His cheek ticks and bows his head, nodding as he thinks, "but... my mother did try to make it special..." he chews on his lip as he looks at you, "she's worried."

"She shouldn't care so much. She isn't my mother."

"But she is a good mother," he argues, "and she only wanted to include you."

"And I'm just as ungrateful as my father said," you sniff, "I'm sure you'd agree."

"I don't."

"Sure. It's why you left me alone all night. It's why you were so mad that I dare read a book. I know, Mr. Laufeyson, I know."

"Know what?"

You huff and cross your arms.

"I know better," you stand and jut your chin out. "I broke the rules again, I'm sorry."

"The rules... that isn't-- why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" You challenge. 

"Please, I didn't come to lecture me--"

"I know the rules. I remember. I will be good," you drop your arms and force your spine straight, "I will apologise to Frigga and thank her. You're right. You're always right. I was wrong."

You go to step past him and he catches your arm, pulling you to face him, "stop."

"Mr. Laufeyson, is that not what you want? For me to be good? I'm sorry I made you look bad. I only... was surprised," you carefully measure your voice and force a smile, "tell me what to do, Mr. Laufeyson and I will obey."

His brows slant and he swallows tightly. He squeezes your wrist then releases you, "apologise," he breathes, "say thank you."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you reply and march through the door, "whatever you wish."

You keep your gait steady and set. He follows behind you and catches up. You return to the veranda in curdling silence. As the rest look up at you, you gather what's left of your strength.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I was only surprised and I... panicked."

"Dear, it's okay, I should've warned you," Frigga coos.

"I really appreciate it," you sit as Laufeyson pulls out your chair, "really..." you look at the pink cake, "I never had a birthday cake before."

As the words escape, you clamp your lips shut. It's only the silence that makes you realise how pathetic that must sound. You put your chin down and try to hide your embarrassment.

"Of course, dear," Frigga fills the dead air, "would you like to cut the first piece?”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

It's Time To Face Reality

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

Warnings: kidnapping, angst

Summary: You find the courage and strength inside yourself to be the hero for once. With everything over and done with, you have no choice but to go back to your old life and leave the one person who made you feel so alive.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: physical toll for @mfbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

“Whatever move you’re going to make, follow through with it. If you’re ever in a situation where you don’t feel safe, the best thing you can do is follow through. If you give them a single spark of weakness, they will strike where it hurts.”

“Ben, I got it. Now punch me,” you grin.

“You’re trouble,” he chuckles.

Ben continues to teach you how to defend yourself if you ever find yourself in a situation where your life is threatened and Ben isn’t there to protect you.

You roll your head to the right and crack what you can to work out the kinks. James had you moved to one of the back bedrooms while they figure out what to do with you. The clock ticking is the only thing you can hear inside the room, reminding you that you have five more hours until they cut off one of your limbs. You’re not sure if they’ll really do that but Ryder is eager to cut into something.

Your arm is getting numb from the way they’ve tied both behind your back. If you don’t escape now, you’re going to suffer a lot. Fuck this. I’m not going to be a damsel in distress. You’re not going to wait to be rescued when you can do it yourself.

Ben taught you better.

Calliope and Elliot arrived in America as soon as they could. They traveled with Kylen and two other guards for their own protection. Spencer tries not to let their presence scare him but it’s intimidating to know the girl he likes has such high security. Calliope hasn’t stopped crying which is understandable while Elliot holds a hard look in his eyes.

“Tell me you know where our daughter is,” Elliot says to Hotch.

“Your Majesty--”

“Please, Elliot. We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

“Elliot, we’re doing everything we can to find your daughter before anything bad happens. We’re the very best team and we’re working hard.”

“I never wanted this for her,” Calliope cries.

“Your Majesty, James Volkov is the one who took Y/N,” Ben says.

“What can you tell me about him?” Hotch asks.

“His hatred for the Richmond bloodline goes deeper than Y/N. He broke into the palace when she was barely a year old and then again when she was six. It’s why we hired Ben to look after her. Even before I was Queen, he was obsessed with stealing from my family. He’s money and power hungry.”

“My mother was thinking of marrying James’ father even though he wasn’t from a royal bloodline. Our tradition that we’ve upheld for centuries is to marry another from a royal bloodline. He manipulated her into giving him more money than he deserved. Then, she met my father who made her realize what a disgusting person James’ family was,” Elliot explains.

Hotch sighs and looks at the table in thought. They hadn’t wanted to put James’ picture in fear that he’d hurt you earlier than he said he would.

You’re not going to give them the chance to.

After an incredible amount of patience and strength, you were able to get out of your binds. You might have bruising on your wrists from how hard the ropes were digging into your skin but that’s a price you’re willing to pay. You open the door slightly and see everyone huddled together in the living room. Macy is furiously typing on her laptop while the men are talking over one another, trying to keep their voices down.

“What are we going to do if they don’t send it? Are we really going to kill her?” Kellen asks.

“Whatever we have to do,” James says.

“They have our pictures,” Macy says. She turns the laptop to show all five of their pictures on the FBI website. “This changes things.”

“This changes nothing. Do you know how long I’ve evaded the law? We’re going to be fine. The Richmond family does not scare me.”

You’re not going to give them the opportunity to hurt you. You have to escape now. You close the bedroom door slowly and quietly before taking stock of what you have. What would Ben do if he was here? Ben. Spencer. Oh, Spencer. I hope you’re alright.

Spencer comes in with two water bottles and hands them both to the King and Queen of Yacleira.

“Are you going to pay the ransom?” Rossi asks.

“That bastard will not get a penny of my money,” Elliot says angrily.

“He has Y/N, honey,” Calliope says with tears in her eyes.

Elliot sighs as his resolve crumbles away.

“We’ll send them whatever they want.”

Penelope pulls up the email chain that James had used to send them a picture of you along with their ransom demand. Since there is an email attached to it, she can use this as a direct line to them.

“Do you think they’ll take cash? We could schedule a meetup,” Spencer says. “Make them bring Y/N as proof of life.”

Penelope sends the email off, getting another one minutes later.

“They refuse to meet up. They expect the entire thing to be deposited.”

“It’s not going to be easy sending that kind of money in a lump sum,” Hotch sighs.

“Ask them if they’ll take it in payments,” Rossi says.

Penelope sends the email and it’s not long until she gets one back. The emails are projected onto the big screen so that everyone can see their reply.

Only if you want your daughter’s fingers sent to the FBI as punishment.

“Hotch, we need to look at the area where her phone was last.”

“You’re right. Take Morgan, Ben, and Prentiss with you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll bring her home to you,” Ben promises.

The four of them take a sleek black SUV over to the gas station where your phone was last pinged in. The gas station is on a desolate road heading out of town so it’s not busy. Whoever is working would have to remember you or the people you were with. Derek and Emily go inside to talk to the attendant while Ben and Spencer stay outside.

“You love her, don’t you?” Ben asks.

“I don’t know about love,” Spencer sighs. “All I know is that she’s the first girl in a long time to make me feel so… alive.”

“Yeah, I get it. I had that.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t quick enough.”

Spencer doesn’t pry knowing it must hurt to think about not being able to save the person he loved. Derek approaches the attendant who puts her phone down when she notices them.

“Hi, we’re agents Prentiss and Morgan with the FBI. We’re looking for someone we believe came through here.” He takes out a picture of you and shows her. “Have you seen this woman?”

“No.”

“They might have kept her in the car to prevent people from seeing her,” Emily whispers to Derek.

Derek takes out the pictures of Jacob and James and shows her.

“Have you seen these men?”

“Yeah, they came through late last night. They were with two other men and a woman. The woman stayed outside and got gas but the four men came in.”

“Can you describe any of them?” Emily asks, taking out her notepad.

“The woman had short, cropped hair. Red, I think. One of the men had a Justin Beiber haircut with piercings on his lip and eyebrow, and another man had tattoos up and down his arms. Big muscles.”

“Did you notice anything strange about them?”

Spencer walks inside with Ben as the attendant is talking to Derek and Emily.

“They were talking in a language I didn’t recognize. Clearly, they were pissed about something. They practically threw the cash at me when they paid.”

Emily notices a camera placed on the ceiling behind the young woman facing toward the front door and the cash register.

“Does that camera work?”

“Yeah. The owner wanted to get one after the fifth time someone came in trying to steal something.”

“May we look at the footage from last night?”

“Be my guest.”

She moves out of the way so that Spencer can work the cameras. The TV is small and grainy but the camera is good quality so the picture is clearer than the normal CCTVs. Late last night, a large SUV pulls into the gas station and pulls up to one of the pumps. The car is obstructed due to the pump they pulled into and the way the camera is angled. However, the passenger window is shown just enough to see you resting your head against the glass with your eyes closed. They must have drugged you to prevent you from getting away.

The woman gets out of the car and starts pumping gas but she is out of view of the entire frame. Four men walk inside the gas station and try their best not to show their faces on the camera. Either they knew this place only had one camera or they’re paranoid at every place because they might have cameras.

Like the attendant says, they throw the money in her face and leave as fast as possible just as the woman with the red hair finishes with the gas. They all get into the car and peel out as fast as possible. The camera isn’t wide enough to see past the road for a few feet, but Spencer sees the direction they went in.

“Do you have any idea where these guys might have gone?” Derek asks.

“I’m not sure. Like I said, they didn’t speak any English.”

“Is there anything out here?”

“Yeah, the old Garrison farm a few miles up the road. Take a right out of here and it’s literally the first road you see off to the right. It’s a dirt road. They didn’t like many people visiting but the property is a hundred acres give or take a few.”

“Thanks.” They leave the gas station and head back to the car. “Do you think they took her there?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“You don’t think… You don’t think they hurt her, do you?” Ben asks.

“Only one way to find out,” Spencer answers regretfully.

He hopes you’re okay and if you’re not, alive.

You go to the window that’s not boarded up and open it only to be met with a mesh screen. You push on it but there isn’t any give. They might have glued it or did something to prevent it from being kicked out. You look around the room and see clothes hung up in the closet. Clothes that are on wire hangers. You take one of the hangers and bend it until the metal snaps in two. Now you have a sharp side.

You walk back over to the mesh covering and stab it with the sharp end of the hanger. It takes a bit of strength on your part but if you keep at it, you’ll have created a big enough hole for you to jump through. Thankfully, this farmhouse is only one story so you’re not worried about breaking a leg. You’re so focused on creating the tear that you don’t hear the bedroom door open.

“Hey!”

You look behind you to see Kellen standing there with a shocked look on his face. You toss the metal to the side and tear the rest of the mesh with your hands. Just as you fit your leg through it, he pounces on you.

“Let go of me!” you shout loud enough to alert the others.

You fall forward onto the ground so that the only part of you still in the house is your right leg. Kellen has a death grip on your leg but you’re not giving up.

“Guys! Help! She’s escaping!”

You jerk away from him only to use every ounce of strength you have to kick him in the face. He falls back with a shout of pain, letting go of your leg. You fall to the ground but scramble to your feet as soon as you can. You take off running anywhere that’s not this farmhouse. The front door slams open and all five of them filter out of the house in a panic.

“Find her! Bring her to me!” James yells loudly.

You almost trip over the rocks but you keep running until you can’t see the farmhouse anymore.

“You can run all you want, princess, but we’ll find you. You won’t like what happens when we do!” Jacob shouts.

It’s so dark outside that you’re not sure where you’re going but that’s not going to stop you from running. Thankfully, you can see the trees so you’re not smacking into them. Your heart is racing at the thought of being caught. What if there is nothing around for miles? Are you really going to keep running without knowing what’s out there? What if you’re in their domain and there are more dangerous people out there?

No, don’t think like that. Your lungs are begging to relax and your legs are burning but you won’t stop running. In the distance you see headlights, and being there is a lot better than being with James. You run toward them in hopes that whoever is behind the wheel is friendly. You push through the thick shrubs and fall to the ground right in front of the car. It screeches to a stop before it can hit you, and you put your hand up to block the bright headlights.

“Please, help me.”

“Y/N!”

All four doors open and four people come clambering out of the car. You look up and see two familiar sets of eyes looking back.

“Spencer? Ben?”

“We’re right here. You’re safe now,” Ben says.

“They’re out there looking for me right now. There’s a farmhouse up the road.”

“Come on.”

Spencer and Ben help you into the back of the car just as Emily and Derek get back in the front. They turn the headlights off and lowly trek back to the farmhouse while still staying in the shadows. Derek and Emily get out while Ben and Spencer stay in the back with you. You faintly hear Derek call for immediate backup, and you lean your head on the headrest tiredly.

Spencer looks at you and wants to apologize but nothing comes out. You’ll have time to reconnect later. Backup comes quickly which is enough to arrest all five individuals involved. They’re brought back to the BAU where you discover your parents are. Your mom and dad run over to you, and you run into their arms with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry for leaving,” you cry. “I didn't mean for all of this to happen.”

“We’re glad you’re okay, baby. You’re safe now,” your mom says.

The paramedics met you at the BAU to assess your injuries which are minor. You were treated for your bruised wrists and the small cuts on your face from the branches. You and Spencer stand off to the side while your parents are with Ben, Kylen, and the rest of the BAU.

“I’d like to take all five of them back to Yacleira if possible. They will face Yacleiran justice,” Elliot says.

“Of course,” Hotch nods. “Interpol will be notified of this as well.”

“I’ll call my contacts,” Emily offers.

You look at your parents and sigh sadly. You know what’s coming next. They know you’re here and it’s not like they will leave without you. You’re old school. They won’t break tradition for you.

“I’m sorry for keeping this a secret from you.”

“No, don’t be. I shouldn’t have left.”

“Spencer, I can’t stay here. My parents will be taking me back to Yacleira where I’m to marry Prince Henry of Vosharia. I thought… well, I thought I was the type of girl who could have what everyone else had. It doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.”

“It’ll always matter.”

“Not to someone like me.” You pull Spencer in to kiss him, and he kisses you back like it’s the last kiss you’ll ever share. Maybe it will be. The thought breaks your heart. “No matter what happens, Spencer, you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You look at the briefing room and see both your parents watching you and Spencer. He hates to see you walk out of his life but what can he do when the King and Queen of Yacleira calls back their Princess?

He stands on the side and lets it happen. What’s a man like him going to be able to provide for a woman like you?

x

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[drdemonprince]

I read your newsletter about "transmisandry" today. I'm a trans man and I generally agree with what you said. However, I was wondering how you would classify a particular experience of mine and other trans men I know irl or have seen online.

In short, I find that in some queer spaces, masculine and/or "binary" (meaning, not non-binary) trans men are treated as outsiders and enemies. I imagine some straight-passing queer cis men experience similar.

This prejudice against masculinity has nothing to do with us being trans, and is in no way oppressive, but it seems to me that some people have a hatred/disgust/discomfort/etc. with masculine men, especially if we are proud of our manhood. I sometimes feel excluded in queer or progressive spaces, and like I have to change myself to fit into others' idea of "acceptable" manhood.

I think this tends to emotionally affect trans men in particular because being a man is generally hard-won and joyful for us. Have you experienced prejudice in queer spaces, especially trans spaces, for being transmasculine? And while I don't believe there exists systemic misandry, is this not a form of misandry, just interpersonal?

Thanks, I really appreciate your work.

Hi there, thank you for great question. What you are describing is certainly a very real and troubling dynamic within both queer and feminist spaces, and it's put me off for a very long time. I have sometimes referred to this as "playful 'misandry' feminism", always with "misandry" in quotes because, as we've already established, it's not a real locus of systemic oppression. I have also sometimes in the past likened it to "Men's Tears Coffee Mug" feminism in its performative, self-congratulatory, typically white feminist stance.*

*in the Koa Beck sense of the term. Someone who is not white can be a white feminist.

I was always put off by performative man-hating jokes and the exclusion of men within feminist spaces because, well, I was one, and because it nearly always played out in transmisogynistic ways that were transparent to me, and because I was a major ride-or-die for men who were victims of sexual violence yet were frequently excluded from survivors' spaces (again, because I was one, even before I realized that I was).

There are a lot of troubling effects that happen when feminist women make a big performance out of finding all men to be disgusting and evil and frequently express disinterest in men's feelings or suffering (which used to be way more common in my estimation, around the early 2010's or so it seemed to peak). I was driven away from feminist spaces as a young closeted trans man because I could see such spaces were not for me or for any of the other men that I cared about and needed support. On the inverse side of things, I have spoken to many trans men who said that "playful "misandry"" feminism actively made it harder for them to realize that they were guys. Men were seen as the enemy and inherently evil and destructive and so they felt absolutely disgusting about the possibility of being a man, or feared transitioning would get them seen as a betrayer of the feminist movement.

As you rightly note, it is not just trans guys who get excluded by such dynamics. Cis men who are genuinely avowed feminists can be driven away by such forces, which is especially upsetting in the case of sexual assault survivors and queer men. Trans women and TMA enbies are excluded from feminist and women's spaces because they supposedly "look like" men to these types, and their own feelings of superficial safety rank above the actual data on who is the most at risk structurally (which is trans women). Butches are regarded in some spaces as too aggressive or unacceptably masculine because of it. And people's analysis of gender oppression just overall sucks when they buy into "playful misandry" style feminism because they go around saying shit like "femme people are oppressed by masc folks." what the hell does that mean. Does a cis, gender conforming feminine woman have less structural power than a butch lesbian? I don't think so.

It seems to me that the big problem here is that "playful misandry" feminism is rooted in a deep deep misunderstanding of the structural nature of oppression. Sexism isn't caused by patriarchy and capitalism, it's caused by "men" and so hating men and excluding them is what will fix things. Men as individuals are responsible for sexism and so women should be as detached from them and unsupportive of them as possible. This logic leads to a TERFy place really quickly, and yes, it also really really damages trans men.

My opinion is that it's best to critique this problem as the political failure that it is: a misunderstanding of sexism as individualistic rather than systemic. That's the core issue from which all the problems flow -- from rampant transmisogyny to the exclusion of cis male sexual assault survivors to the feelings of alienation of trans men. Yes sometimes naming the performative nature of "man hating" jokes and the like is helpful because people recognize instantly what that dynamic is when they hear it. But the "misandry" itself is not the core problem -- it's the shitty gender politics and white feminism.

Does that make sense? To be clear, I think it's something trans men get to talk about. I talk about it from my positionality quite a lot really. I don't think "misandry" is ultimately the helpful or clarifying way to name it, but I will sometimes throw around that term with a TON of qualifiers if I'm discussing the specific interpersonal dynamic of women saying that men are evil rapists innately or whatever. But really discussing the broader gender politics failure that leads to those little shitty comments and looks is almost always more helpful. If trans guys and cis guys are feeling excluded from a space due to these dynamics it's almost always the case that trans women, TMA enbies, butch women, and lots of women of color are too.

[tightjeansjavi]

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: I did not plan for this to be over 4k words. LOL enjoy ♡

~word count : 4.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

It was around 2:30 the next afternoon that Joel Miller had given you a ring. You were on your well deserved lunch break after Javi P put you through absolute hell. Why you thought it was going to be an easy hack session with him, was beyond you. Javi P never made anything easy, but you were determined to show this horse some good in his life. He’d been through hell in the racing industry, and it left a bad taste in your mouth just knowing how disposable he and his brother were to their old owners.

When your ringtone blared, you nearly lost hold of your sandwich as you grabbed your phone, answering it on the second ring.

“Hey darlin’ it’s Joel; Joel Miller. The uh–the guy who called ya yesterday about getting his daughter some ridin’ lessons?”

You honest to god thought it was fucking adorable that Joel even thought for a minute that you weren’t gonna remember him. You most definitely had not been thinking about this man all day after your phone call. No way, that definitely wasn’t you.

“Hey, Joel! I take it I left a good impression on you yesterday?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he was parked in front of Sarah’s school, waiting for her. “Yeah, you uh–most definitely did. Anyway, i’m waitin’ to pick my daughter up and then we were gonna head over, if that still works for you?”

“Oh, perfect! Yeah, that still works for me! I’ll meet you out front when you get here, and then we’ll do the tour, sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Just wanted to y’know check in and make sure that I wasn’t inconveniencing you or anythin’ like that.”

“Well, I appreciate you calling, but I hate to break it to you, I don’t do much around here for you to be inconveniencing me.”

“I’m sure that ain’t true. You seem to uh–really enjoy what you do, which is hard for a lot of folks to say. Don’t sell yourself short, and just from our conversation yesterday, can tell that you really care about the horses, even when you’re threatenin’ to turn one of ‘em into glue.”

You let out a light laugh, biting the tip of your nail because woo doggy, Joel Miller was a total fucking sweetheart in your books, and you still hadn’t met this man in person.

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate you saying that. You’re not gonna let me live down the glue thing, huh?”

“Anytime, darlin’ and oh, no I will not be letting you live that one down.” He looked out the driver side window when he saw Sarah walking up and he reached over, unlocking the passenger side door for her. “Hey, Sarah just got outta school, S’okay that she’s not like in uh–proper ridin’ stuff?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine! Jeans and a t-shirt are the most comfortable option. We’ll get her fitted for a helmet as well, if you guys end up choosing our place that is.”

“Oh, sweet. Didn’t know if there was like a strict attire or anythin’ like that and I got a good feelin’ that we’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

“Nah, we’re not like the hunter jumper barns. As long as she has closed-toed shoes, she’s good.” Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat when Joel Miller casually stated that he had a feeling you were going to see each other a lot more. Damn these southern charm Texas men.

“Alright, awesome. Pickin’ her up now, see ya in a bit!”

“See you in a bit, Joel!”

He hung up just as Sarah had climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

“Who were you on the phone with?” She took notice that her dad had a slight blush to his cheeks and she couldn’t help but grin and give him a little shoulder punch.

“Just got off the phone with your potential new ridin’ instructor. I think you’re really gonna like her, kiddo. She seems pretty cool.”

“You’re blushing dad, you know that? Right here!” She playfully poked his dimple.

“Am not! Just a little hot in here. Sweatin’ bullets.”

“Sureeeee it’s just the heat, you’re so right!”

He gave his daughter a playful warning look while he reached over and ruffled her head of curls.

“I ain’t blushin’ I don’t blush!”

“Okaaay dad, whatever you say!”

Joel Miller was not blushing. Like he said, he doesn’t blush. It was just the hot Texas air that had him feeling all flustered.

You quickly finished what was left of your sandwich, checking the time as you tidied up your desk. You grabbed your phone and slipped it back into your jeans pocket as you headed out of the makeshift office, and into the aisle way of the stalls.

“Listen up fellas, we have a potential new client coming through in about 20 minutes, and i’m expecting all of you to be on your very best behavior.” You looked directly at Javi P as you spoke. “Yeah bud, I'm talking to you specifically. We are NOT biting any kids today, alright?”

Javi P looked displeased, and if horses had hands, he would most definitely would be flipping you off right now.

You spent the next 20 minutes sweeping the aisle way, wanting everything to look presentable as possible. You heard the sound of truck tires under loose gravel and you just had a feeling it was Joel Miller.

“Alright boys, it's showtime!”

Sarah was telling her dad another horse fact from her book when they were getting out of his truck. “Dad, this one is super cool! Did you know that horse hooves are made from the same protein as human hair and fingernails? That’s one big finger nail!”

Joel had let out a laugh, his eyes crinkled up a bit in the corners as he shook his head. “Think that protein is called keratin? Sounds about right to me.”

“Keratin! Yeah, that’s what it's called!”

He observed the area then and took notice of the blooming flowers in the front of the stables, and the overall comforting vibe this place had. He could hear the familiar sound of a horse whinnying. The distinct barn smell didn’t even have him turning up his nose, and in a way, he found it oddly comforting.

His head turned in the direction of the door opening as you stepped outside. You were wearing light washed jeans that definitely were well worn, a loose graphic tee, Star Wars to be specific. The fabric was faded, but he could make out the image of two X-Wings. So, you were a nerd too, just another added bonus.

Your jeans were a bit dirty from your fall off of Javi P earlier, and you were certain that your hair probably looked insane, but Joel wasn’t expecting you to walk out in a mini skirt and stilettos, that was damn sure.

“Joel? Hey, nice to put a face to the name!” You held your hand out to him and he grasped it in his larger one. He had a firm grip, and his palms were well worn, a little calloused. Not that you were paying attention to those little details or anything.

He was undeniably handsome. A tall fucking glass of water, as you would describe him to your friends later over drinks. He had deep, warm, inviting brown eyes, a good structured jaw, and a killer smile. One that would definitely make any girl weak in the knees.

Joel already knew what you looked like from your bio on the website, but in person? You were even prettier. Joel had been so focused on his job, and caring for his daughter, that he never really saved any room for himself. He hadn’t gone on a proper date in god knows how long, but he just had a feeling that maybe you were gonna change that for him.

He smiled as you shook hands before he gestured to his daughter, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, nice to meet ya! This is my daughter Sarah. Newly horse obsessed as you already know.”

Sarah swatted at her dad’s arm playfully and stuck her tongue out at him. “Dad, don’t embarrass me!”

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched their interaction. It was clear Joel and his daughter were very close. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about kiddo. I, too, am horse obsessed. Would even go as far to say that I am horse crazy.”

Sarah let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest with a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Guess there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Horses are pretty freaking cool!”

You nodded. “They are super freaking cool! You guys wanna head in and I'll give you a tour?”

Sarah was already grabbing her dad’s hand as you led the dad daughter duo inside the main building.

“We’ve been in business for a little over a decade now. We’re family owned and a non-profit and all of the horses here were rescued from various situations. We focus heavily on good horsemanship skills, positivity and creating a safe, judgment free zone. We currently have 6 horses at our facility. All at different skill levels, but 5 out of the 6 are extremely beginner friendly.”

Joel had his hands shoved in his jean pockets as you spoke, he was attentively listening to everything you were saying.

“Did you rescue them all yourself?” He asked.

“Yep, every single one of them. Not all at once, but I'd get a tip from someone in the business about an upcoming auction, or abandoned barn, and I'd be there. I’ve traveled across the country for a couple of them, and I wish I could rescue every horse, but I do what I can y’know?”

“I understand. It’s great that you’ve given ‘em a second chance at life and a fresh start.”

You held the door open for them as you led them into the aisle way where the stalls were located. “Yeah, I agree with you. They deserve so much more than to just be thrown away like that. These boys are some of the luckier ones.”

All 6 of the horses had stuck their heads out of their stall doors to see who was coming and Sarah’s little heart was already melting.

“So like I was saying, we have 6 horses currently. Their names are Frankie, Dieter, Whiskey, Javi P, Javi G, and finally, Ezra.”

You brought them over to the first stall which was Frankies. He was a bay, tobiano paint. He had one blue eye, and one brown eye. You leaned against the side of his stall door as he peeked his head out over the side, nickering softly at you.

“This is Frankie, he’s our newest recruit. Just actually picked him up from Utah a little over a month ago.” You gave him a gentle pat on the neck. “He’s about 20 years old, in horse years and he’s a sweetheart. He was a little girl’s birthday present and he was well loved up until he spooked one day. She fell off and broke her arm and her parents deemed him to be ‘unsafe.’ He would have been on his way to Mexico if it wasn’t for me. I’m working on doing some desensitizing training with him as he doesn’t handle loud, sudden noises very well. He loves kids though.

Sarah frowned as she listened to you talk about Frankie and what would have almost happened to him.

“It wasn’t his fault that he spooked, right?”

“No kiddo. It’s never the horses fault and we gotta remember that their prey animals. If they feel like they’re in danger, or threatened, their natural instinct is to run.”

“Can I pet him?”

“Course you can. Here, he’ll love you forever if you give him one of these.” You reached into your pocket, pulling out a carrot and snapped it in half, handing her the one piece. “You’re gonna want to hold your hand out flat, tuck your thumb under your fingers cause you don’t want him accidentally biting them.”

Sarah nodded as she walked to his stall door, holding the carrot out to Frankie like you said and when he had licked her hand as he grabbed the carrot, she let out a soft giggle.

Joel had the softest fucking smile on his face just from seeing his baby girl happy like this.

“Next we have Dieter. This guy? He’s a little trickster and he’s pretty damn good at it. Loves to steal things out of your pockets if you’re not careful. I’ve caught him nearly escaping at least a dozen times. Had to really get creative with the locks on his stall. He used to be a lesson horse at a hunter jumper barn not far from here. The schooling shows really started to wear him down and they felt like he was useless after that.”

“Woah, he has a mohawk! That’s so cool! What kind of horse is he?” Sarah asked.

“He’s a Norwegian Fjord. He’s in between the size of a standard horse and a large pony. They typically have longer manes but due to the weather, we keep his trimmed so he doesn’t overheat. Plus, I think he enjoys having a mohawk, wouldn’t you say?”

Sarah didn’t hesitate to give Dieter a soft stroke on the side of his neck and she looked back at her dad with a small grin.

“I think he looks very punk rock, whad’ya think dad?”

“Very punk rock. He pulls it off pretty well I think.”

Whiskey, who’s stall was next to Dieter’s, was pawing impatiently at the ground.

“Ahh yes, good old Whiskey boy. He can be a bit of a handful at times, but he has a super smooth gait due to his breed.”

“When you talk about a horse's gait, are you uh–are you talkin’ about their movement? What makes him different from the rest?” Joel asked.

You looked over at him with a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Their gait is their natural movement. Whiskey is a Tennessee Walking Horse, and his natural gait differs between a flat walk, running walk, and a canter. He’s best suited for the trails and easy flat work. This guy was rescued from the ‘Big Lick’ industry. His gait is naturally high stepping but to enhance it for shows, trainers would use chains, heavy boots, and chemicals on his fetlocks in order to have him step higher. The practice is considered cruel, for obvious reasons, but people get away with it often. He went lame at one point and was thrown into auction.”

Joel had frowned as he listened to Whiskey’s story. It left a bad taste in his mouth that people could be so cruel to an animal like that.

“So, these guys really have been through hell, huh?”

“Unfortunately they have. Trust me, I get angry just thinking about what they went through.”

“Well, they’re certainly lucky that they have you, darlin. I like his coat color. That’s the proper term ain’t it?”

You almost felt a blush creep up your neck when he called you darlin again. At least you could blame it on the sweltering heat. Not because of Joel Miller and his smooth Texas drawl.

“Coat color is the correct term, yeah. He’s a dappled palomino. I call him honey sometimes because of his color, and because he’s as sweet as honey. A little bit of a flirt as well, a ladies man you might say.”

“He definitely gives off the ‘pretty’ boy vibes.” Joel said with a chuckle.

Before he, or Sarah could walk to the next stall, you put your arm out in front of them protectively, just as Javi P had lunged his head out, with his ears pinned back against his head, baring his teeth.

“I told him to be on his best behavior but I swear, this horse never listens.”

Joel was more focused on your soft grip on his bicep to even process the angry beast in front of them.

“Is this the horse you threatened to turn into glue yesterday?” Joel asked in a joking manner.

Sarah let out a shocked gasp.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I wasn’t actually gonna turn him into glue. He just isn’t the friendliest as you can see.” You gently released Joel’s bicep from your grip. “This is Javi P, he’s an OTTB, better known as an off the track thoroughbred. He was gonna make it big in Kentucky and would have sold for millions if it wasn’t for his accident. His jockey was well known for, to put it lightly, and please excuse my French, an asshole. This guy was too young to even be on the track. His bones weren’t even fully formed, nor able to withstand the pressure. He wiped out on a mud track a year ago, and knocked his jockey out. If they would have given him more time, and switched Jockey’s, he probably would have had a successful racing career.”

“I take it he doesn’t trust humans very well because of that? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“He’s incredibly weary of men especially. It’s really unfortunate because I know underneath all his meanness, there’s a really good horse. I’ve just been trying to chip away at his rough exterior, bit by bit. He threw me off earlier this morning, but it was my fault. Lost my footing in the stirrup and he flipped.”

“Jesus, are you alright?”

“Me? Oh, yeah I'm good. I’ve experienced a lot of falls in my life. Just comes with the job honestly.”

“Just about how many times have you fallen off? If ya don’t mind me askin’ that is.”

“Oh gosh, uhhh I'm not sure if I can count them on both hands. At least 20. Maybe a little less than 50. It happens but the main thing is, I've gotten back on everytime.”

“Woah, you’ve fallen off that many times and you aren’t scared or anything? Okay, my dad was totally right, you are so cool!”

Now you were actually feeling flustered, and Joel might have been as well but you couldn’t exactly tell. “I was definitely scared the first few times and I was afraid to get back on, but I pushed through it. What’s this about me being totally cool? Your dad is right on the money with that one, I am the coolest.”

Joel cleared his throat a little while he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I will admit that I told Sarah you were cool. I mean, you left an impression on me after our phone call, and you know so much about horses so yeah, I’d say you’re pretty cool.”

Sarah gave her dad a funny look then, only one that he could see.

“Is Javi G related to Javi P?” She asked, walking up to the other chestnut thoroughbred and he had lowered his head down towards her, brushing his soft, velvet nose against her palm.

“Yep, they’re brothers with totally opposite personalities. Javi G was let go because he was deemed to be too “sweet” for racing. He’s honestly a huge goober. If you give him kisses, he gives them right back.”

Sarah had given his nose a quick peck and he returned it against her palm, licking her hand.

“See? Told ya, he gives them right back!”

Sarah giggled as he licked her palm. “That tickles!” She wiped her wet palm on the side of her jeans. “I think I like him the most so far! Or Frankie, he was very sweet.”

“I think Whiskey is my favorite so far. I’m Jealous of how fantastic his hair looks.”

“Dad, it's not his hair, it's his mane!”

Joel held his hands up in defense with a small grin on his lips.

“Ohh, my bad for not gettin’ the term correct, my deepest apologies!”

“Yeah, Joel! Get with the program!” You chimed, your tone light and playful as you stopped at the last stall. Ezra was already nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, giving you an affectionate push.

“Oh, wow. He’s so pretty! It looks like he has a heart on his head, you see that dad?” Sarah pointed to the heart shaped star on Ezra’s forehead.

“Oh, yeah he does! Recognize him from the photo on the website.” ‘Yeah, the one that you have been staring at for the past 24 hours, Miller.’ He thought to himself.

“This is my boy, Ezra. He’s a 16 hand high Hanoverian and he was making it big in the hunter jumper world for a few years. He used to compete all through the country and was well on his way to competing in Europe.” You gave him a pat on his neck, pulled out the other half of the carrot and fed it to him. “Sometimes horses give you signs that they’re tired, that they don’t want to work anymore. Ezra was giving all those signs and his owner refused to see them until it was pretty much too late. He passed out during a show from exhaustion and being overworked. Now, he gets to live comfortably and he enjoys being ridden again.”

Joel could tell how much these horses truly meant to you, just by the way you spoke about all of them. He admired your passion for giving them a second chance at life. This just confirmed to him that he definitely would be seeing a lot more of you.

After the tour, Joel felt comfortable leaving Sarah to spend some time with Ezra while you and him talked over the logistics.

“I gotta say, you really sold this place for me darlin’ and I think Sarah would be absolutely lucky to be trained under you. Y’know I'm usually super critical over these things, for obvious reasons, but I trust you already and I know she’s in good hands.”

You were in disbelief as you walked alongside him.

“Really? Well, I gotta say, that's a relief. I got a little worried that maybe I was taking it too far with telling you guys about each of the horses stories but honestly, it's necessary. I can’t tell you how many potential clients have rolled through here and lasted maybe a day before switching to a hunter jumper barn. So I truly appreciate you saying that. I think Sarah is going to love it here, and I would be more than happy to be her instructor.”

“Honestly? I’m just relieved you didn’t try and sugar coat anythin’ I appreciate the fact that you didn’t try to make yourself, or this place sound like somethin’ it's not. If that makes any sense? You’re just, uh–very personable? I apologize if i’m oversteppin’ with ya darlin’ I don’t mean to ramble.”

You laughed as you looked over at him and nodded. “I totally understand what you’re trying to get at Joel. So basically, I’m not a snobby asshole that’s just in it for the money?”

“Well, that is one way to put it. I could also tell by your shirt that you weren’t gonna be the prissy type. Can’t stand those kinda girls honestly. You’re definitely in it for the horses, and the experience.”

You were feeling flustered by this man’s words, and there was no way you could hide it. “What about the shirt you gave me away? C’mon, I'm curious to know what your first impression of me really was.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the two X-Wings on your shirt? Just a simple observation. Gotta ask, what’s your favorite of the franchise thus far?”

“Damn X-Wings giving away all my deepest, darkest secrets. Oh man, probably the Empire Strikes back or Return of the Jedi. The new episodes have potential though. I do like the Pod racing in The Phantom Menace.”

“You walked right on into that one darlin,’ and those are pretty solid answers. Me personally? I like the Empire Strikes Back the most. Although, they’re all good.”

“I think I respect you just a tad bit more than I already did, Joel Miller.”

“Well, I must be doin’ somethin’ right huh?”

Oh, he has no idea.

“Anyway, let’s get you situated with the paperwork and figure out a good lesson schedule?”

Joel nodded and you left his side to go and grab the paper work, waiver and other forms along with a pen and after he signed everything, you went and retrieved Sarah, who was still loving on Ezra.

You stood just outside the door of the main building, waving to Joel and Sarah as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Well, kiddo. Your first lesson this Saturday! Signed the paperwork and everything. You excited?”

Sarah looked over at her dad with a big smile as she buckled her seatbelt. “You like her, don’t you?”

Joel stumbled over his words as he looked over at his kid momentarily.

“Now what would make ya think that? Wait, was it that obvious? Shoot! You were not supposed to hear me say that. I don’t like your riding instructor sweet pea. I just think she is a cool person ,and she definitely knows her horse stuff.”

“I knew it! You do like her! Dad, you are terrible at making things not obvious! She’s like super pretty so I totally get it! I am going to tell uncle Tommy that you have a crush!” She giggled.

“Sarah–honey, are you feelin alright? The sun isn’t gettin’ to ya is it?” He looked absolutely mortified when she said that she was going to tell his brother. “Absolutely not, you do not speak of this to uncle Tommy, ever! I ain’t got a silly little crush, kiddo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything to uncle Tommy. I pinky promise! You do have a crush though dad. It’s okay, your secret is safe with me!” She held her pinky out to him.

“I ain’t got a crush. Silly talk, sweet pea. That’s all I'm hearin’ right now.” He linked his pinky with hers.

Alright, so Joel maybe had a teeny tiny crush on his daughter’s horseback riding instructor. Just a small innocent crush that would never turn into anything..right?

Part 3:

[alessiathepirate]

Resident Evil 4

CIGARETTES IN THE MORNING: Luis Serra x fem!reader

Summary: Just some soft morning moments with Luis Serra - including some cigarettes -, because we all need some soft Luis Serra moments in our lives.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes I made while I wrote this short story.

As I wrote before, my Spanish isn't the best so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes in the Spanish words I used. With that I'd like to say a special thank you to @angi-writes-filth for the kind words and the reassurance that my Spanish isn't as bad as I thought it was :)

Also I'd like to say thank you for all the positive feedback and responses I've got. I really appreciate it :)

Luis Serra makes me go weak these days, so have some soft moments with him as proof to that.

Warnings: smoking

•••

The room was painted in a shade of orange mixed with some gold and red as the sunrise found its way inside the apartment. Waking up to that sight was truly breathtaking and after all the hard, physically demanding work she had to do, it gave her a peace of mind. Eyes only slightly open, looking at her own hands where all the colours the sunrise brought were mixed together, she finally felt at ease.

Her eyes slowly, but surely examined her environment, this time being sure that it's a safe place. It's not some shack in Spain, it's not some big hallway in a castle - it's her home. It's her home where she isn't lonely anymore.

She turned around in the bed, kicking the duvet back to its place when it got tangled with her legs. She was about to reach for a bare chest or the soft, dark brown locks of hair, when she realized that her lover's side of the bed was empty. She let out a long breath in annoyance - no cuddling this time.

Sitting up and pulling the duvet off of her body, she looked around the room, this time being more observant, checking the side what she didn't examine a few seconds ago. There he was, at an open window with his back to her, elbows resting on the windowsill. He was smoking, she was sure of it, because she could see some small clouds of smoke running up in the air, even if his body was hiding the cigarette in his hand.

She laid back down, hugging a pillow to her chest, while she kept her gaze on him. She had to admit that Luis Serra was attractive even in the mornings - more than attractive, beautiful; damn the people who say that word can't be used for men.

She wouldn't use that word for anyone who wasn't special, but Luis truly deserved that compliment. His physique, his dark brown hair - what she liked to play with at night - and those eyes most of the time shining from something flirty yet clever, made him irresistible. And she didn't even think about the way he talks or acts yet.

She got out of bed as quietly as she could and walked towards him slowly, not wanting to disturb him and also wanting to surprise him with a hug. When she was right behind him, she gently put one arm around his torso, while she touched the scar on his back with the other.

Luis seemed surprised, making her chest swell with pride. He didn't neccessary jump, but his shoulders became tense and his hands started to shake slightly, almost dropping the lighter he was even now playing with. She loved the trick he could do with it - it was a Luis-thing, and the fact that he could make that seem attractive was also a Luis-thing.

"You got a smoke?" she asked teasingly, making him giggle. God, she loved to hear him laugh.

"Good morning, cariño." was the first thing he said as he put the lighter down and tenderly took the hand she was keeping on his abdome to press a gentle kiss on it.

"Good morning to you too."

She drew an invisible circle around his scar with her thumb, then drew through the whole, rough line where once the deep wound was. She pressed a kiss to his right shoulder as an I love you. When she felt his grip on her hand tighten, she knew the message got through.

"You didn't stay to cuddle." she said, doing her best to sound angry, but in reality both of them knew she wasn't upset about it.

"I'm sorry, querida. I didn't think you'd wake up so early." he kissed her palm this time as a sorry. "But I'm sure we can still make some time for it."

Next thing she knew she was standing in front of him, with her back to him, while one of his arm was around her torso. He also did his best to keep the cigarette far away from her face and hair, not wanting to burn her.

"Yeah, this is much better."

Luis threw the cigarette into an ashtray, now being able to fully concentrate on his lover. He put his head on her shoulder, while his free hand was playing with her hair.

"Your bedhead is really cute, cariño."

She felt her cheeks become slightly pinker at the compliment. "Thank you."

"You know, for someone who went to Spain to find the missing señorita, you can get pretty shy sometimes, querida."

There was no way she could hide her face from him, so she did her best to ignore the feeling that her cheeks are red. "Yeah, I bet you're really happy that this shy señorita was there to find your flirting attractive."

"Of course I am."

"Of course you are. You should be." she said teasingly.

They were standing there for a while as the first few people started to appear on the streets, most likely going to work to start the day early. For the first time since forever she wasn't jealous of them for having a normal life. No, this time she was happy that she can stay in with someone she loves, with someone who loves her.

After a while they changed the position as Luis started to smoke again.

"Do you want to go back to bed, querida?"

"We can if you want to. But only after a coffee." she answered as she looked him in the eye, liking the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her.

"Of course, I can make you one."

"And you called Leon Prince Charming, when you offer to help a señorita?" she teased, while she took his cigarette to take a puff from it.

"I only offer to help one certain señorita and you know it." her grip on the cigarette almost failed her at the compliment. Luckily Luis took it from her in time.

She didn't answer, not knowing what to say to that. Teasing or joking with Luis was always a loosing game. There was no way she could say anything to him to make him flustered or shy - even if only for a second. Or even if she succeeded in it, he'd always have a clever, either cute or flirty comeback what always made her blush.

His second cigarette landed in the ashtray as well after he kissed her. He tasted like the thing he was smoking, not like it bothered her. It was also a Luis-thing, something what couldn't just disappear without leaving an empty space behind.

"Let's go and make that coffee."

This time she kissed him - as a thank you.

The days with Luis Serra definitely started off happily.

[sacredthethreadgvf]

Limelight |Jake Kiszka x Reader | Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back at it..you know me, ideas pop into my head out of the blue and occasionally we go on a journey together. Please note that while this follows the band and Jake closely this is a fictional story. I currently do not have a posting schedule or a plan on how many parts this will be so bare with me !! As always, I appreciate alllll the feedback and love chatting about stories with you all ! I cannot wait to see where yet another enemies to lovers trope takes us! A very special shout out to @joshym for hyping me up over this story and being a beta reader for this upcoming series (I appreciate you so so much!!). This is just a little prologue to start us off on our journey. MINORS DNI this series !!! This will contain smut at one point!

Summary: Jake Kiszka is a pain in the ass to put it in simple terms. But you loved your job, you actually needed this job more than anything. However, shining shoes, refilling water, folding towels, applying eyeliner, etc. was not exactly on your agenda. Neither was falling in love with the type of man you usually steered far, far away from but yet here we are. Being Jake Kiszka's personal assistant has brought trials and tribulations beyond belief but maybe, just maybe, they were worth it all in the end.

Prologue Warnings: None. Unless you want to count swearing?

Limelight. 

Between both aspiring artists and fans alike, the chase and the thrill of the limelight could not be beat. 

You craved the limelight personally, more than the average fan of music. You wanted a taste of it for yourself ever since you were young but being the center of public attention? Well, scared the hell out of you. So you settled for a different type of “Limelight”. The type of limelight that brought along all of the green rooms, the thrills, the music so loud and close you wouldn’t be able to hear for days following the concert. You craved to just be close to your favorite musicians without having to pay a pretty penny. You craved the backstage limelight. 

You had applied at ReverbPR for a simple assistant job to navigate your way through the music industry to make a name for yourself. You went to college to be a producer of music but found it hard as a young girl fresh out of college with little to no experience to have anyone take you seriously in Nashville. So you settled to be an executive assistant for frontmen, guitar and bass players and drummers alike in hopes to market yourself to these artists to then eventually work with them one on one with their new albums. 

You were working away at your profile on LinkedIn in a little coffee shop early on a Monday morning when you got the call from your boss Brian. 

“Pack your bags, I found a new client for you.” 

Your heart raced from excitement. Things with your previous client did not work out well for you. You had been paired up with an up and coming rock band who’s misogynistic ways both on stage and off made it a very uncomfortable work situation for yourself that was taking a toll on you mentally. You had called Brian after a month and begged him to pair you with someone else. To your surprise he agreed and sent your replacement to the band and thankfully, that was the last you heard of them. 

So when you heard from Brian you were now paired yet again with an up and coming rock band of young men, your heart sank and your blood pulsed in your ears.  But Brian had assured you that this band was different and you wouldn’t be working with all of the band members, just one this time. 

Higher following on social media and a good reputation. 

So you agreed but had a mind to keep your guard up just in case. 

That night, following a few glasses of wine, you lifted your roommate's cat off of your lap. You ignored the soft protests that sweet little Isabel made and reached out for your laptop sitting on the coffee table. You typed ‘GRETA VAN FLEET’ into your browser and fell into a deep dive on the quartet from Michigan and their rise to fame. 

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away from you, a young guitarist was preparing for a night of revelry. 

“Why do you always have to be such a dick dude?!” Jake exasperated, shooting a glare across the room to his better half. Actually, lesser half in the eyes of Jake at this given moment. 

Jake's arms were crossed against his chest and he was leaning against a table. His hands were preoccupied with a cup of wine and a little black eyeliner pencil that was about to go to waste. 

“Because brother Jake,” Josh paused and closed his eyes as his assistant, Rose, spread silver glitter across his eyelids. “Beauty like mine takes time! My rhinestones aren’t even done yet.” 

He closed his eyes again, avoiding the sharp glare from Jake. 

“It's not going to take long to do two little black lines under my eyelids.” Jake threw a hand in the air. 

He could tell Josh was getting irritated quickly as Jake was interfering with his “Quiet Time” pre stage ritual bullshit. “Exactly. You can do it yourself.” 

“Josh,'' Rose protested softly. “It really won’t take me that long.” Josh’s eyes popped open in a warning his sweet assistant Rose then back to Jake as if to say ‘Get the fuck out of my dressing room’.

Jake rolled his eyes. “What fucking ever. I’ll get my own damn assistant then and you won’t be able to steal them.” 

As he walked back to his own dressing room clad in his silver stage suit, the faint sounds of fans chanting “GRETA! GRETA! GRETA!” filled his ears. His senses were heightened. No matter how many times he’s been on stage. No matter how many pep talks he has given himself before, he will never shake the butterflies. 

Now to add to the butterflies was pure rage. A sense of frustration with his twin and he didn’t even have time to do his goddamn eyeliner. 

He made a plan in his head to talk to his manager about it tomorrow. It was time he had his own damn help around here.

[vintagestarlight]

Count on Me

Pairing: Soap x military gf!reader

Summary: soap gets in trouble defending you

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: fluff, angst, mild violence, strong language, brief mention of death, unwanted touching, sexual harassment(just to be safe)

A/n: another fic for one of our favorite 141 boys! Because of the warnings I highly suggest if any of this makes you uncomfortable please don't read it! That being said I hope whoever does read it enjoys it! As always reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated! :)

Soap never really thought about the future anymore. When you work a job like he does, it's counterproductive and sometimes even dangerous to think of a future. When Soap was a younger lad he always thought he'd have a lass and a bairn or two of his own but ever since joining the military he pushed it to the back of his mind. That was until he met you. Price and Laswell recruited you to help with a mission and you ended up earning a spot alongside the rest of the 141.

Soap had always been quite flirtatious by nature but you were different. While yes he did still flirt with you, he caught himself doing the one thing he tried so hard to avoid. He caught himself seeking you out during meals or wanting to spar with you during training. He caught himself staring at you during meetings or rec time. He caught himself thinking about a future with you; little lads(or lasses) running around getting under your feet. He caught himself falling in love. At first it terrified him realizing he loved you; loving people in his line of work put a target on their back. But seeing how badass you were but also one of the kindest people he knew, he couldn't help himself.

He found out you felt the same when you two were stuck in a safe house in no where Siberia. You were given dodgy intel and it ended with you being shot. Soap had never felt his heart sink so fast; he felt like it dropped to his feet. "Soap in case I don't make it out... I have to tell you something," you said, struggling to get the words out. You could feel the life leaving with every pump of blood; it was a strange sensation to feel yourself dying.

"Dinnae talk like tha' lass," he said, holding a cloth to the hole in your stomach. "You can tell me when we make it out of here,". Your hand grasped his and made him look at you. "I love you Soap," you said. "I tried really hard not too; I tried keeping it professional but...I love you," the words were harder to speak with each passing minute. For a moment Soap's heart felt like it was gonna burst but he still had to get you out alive. Soap had managed to stop the bleeding and a heli had come for exfil courtesy of Price. You ended up making a full recovery in the medical wing.

Ever since then you and Soap had agreed to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the team. Midnight rendezvous in your rooms, sneaking glances and featherlight touches made Soap feel like a schoolboy again messing around with the popular girl. Of course Price had his suspicions right away; he always kept a close watch over his team and saw how you two treated each other after the mission in Siberia. He didn't say anything though because it didn't affect your performance. Ghost found out after Price when you and Soap were a little drunk after a night out and were a little too loud in the shower. After that you both agreed to be more careful.

It was because of this that men still hit on you. It was nothing new to be hit on especially in the military; you usually just brushed them off politely and then laugh when you saw Soap staring daggers at the poor man who hit on you. It usually ended with you not being able to walk; not that you minded in the slightest. But this time was different.

Because of Price's reluctant agreement a team had been brought in to assist with an extraction. During the whole mission the squad's lieutenant, Yates, had been making sexual comments about you; you were able to brush them off like you always do because this was nothing you hadn't heard before. Being a woman in the military you weren't a stranger to inappropriate comments from men. But you could tell it was bothering Soap.

The mission was a success; you were able to get your target out without it being a disaster. You were hanging around base with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost after you all got back. Price had retreated back to his office to work on paperwork and the squad that was brought in was with you three in the rec room. "So y/l/n what about you?" Yates asked. They had been talking about their weekend escapades with beautiful women while being especially crude. "Who here would you let do you?" He asked, a smirk on his face. "Excuse me?" You asked, hoping you heard him wrong.

You could feel Soap tense beside you, gripping the neck of his beer bottle so tightly you were surprised it didn't shatter. Ghost laid a hand on Soap's shoulder trying to keep him from doing anything stupid. "Who would you let do you?" The lieutenant repeated himself. "Or maybe you already let them," he said still with a nasty smirk. You finished the last of your beer before standing up. "I think I'm going to go finish my own paperwork," You said, bidding goodbye to your teammates. "Oh come on don't be a bitch just answer the question," He said standing up and blocking your path. "Move. Now." You said, flatly.

"Come on it's just a simple question," he said, stepping closer. "Do you let them take turns?" He asked. "Just tell me who leaves you the most sore afterward?" He grabbed your ass and pulled you against his chest. Before you could break his hand for touching you, Soap pushed between you two and punched the lieutenant across the face. "You son of a bitch!" Soap shouted. The two tumbled and fell with Soap on top. The rec hall erupted in shouts some from Gaz and Ghost and some from the other squad. Soap was able to get a few more punches in before Gaz and Ghost could pull him off "Johnny what the fuck?!" Ghost shouted.

Yates lied on the ground, holding his face. Blood poured from his broken nose and busted mouth. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Yates groaned. You stood there stunned and looked over at Soap who Ghost was still trying to calm down. "Go take a fucking walk Johnny," Ghost growled. Soap looked over at you and turned on his heel stalking off. "You're finished Sergeant you hear me? You're fucking finished!" Yates screamed at Soap's retreating back. "Shut the fuck up Yates," Ghost said, his voice a low growl as he looked at the injured lieutenant. The lieutenant got up and left, probably to find Price's office. You didn't know what to say so you turned to leave when Ghost grabbed your wrist. "He just risked his entire career to defend you. Give him some time to cool off but you need to talk to him," Ghost said, his voice the usual grumble. You nodded, glanced briefly at the blood on the floor, and left for your room.

Soap knocked on Price's door waiting for Price to tell him to come in. The door opened and Yates stepped out. His face purple and bruised, his nose still crooked with cotton stuffed in his nostrils to stop the bleeding. His mouth was swollen with dried blood caked on it. Soap felt a sick sort of satisfaction knowing he did that. Ghost followed Yates and gave him a reassuring nod. Yates just glared at him when Price called him in. "Take a seat," Price said from behind his desk.

Soap closed the door and made his way to one of the chairs facing Price's desk. "His captain is calling for your discharge," Price said. "He's not happy that his lieutenant has a busted face," he added. "You didn't hear what he said about her," Soap said, his fists clenching at the memory. "I know exactly what he said. Ghost told me," said Price. "The fact is you assaulted a superior officer. You're lucky you're not being court martialed," Price said, looking at Soap.

"Yates is a womanizing bastard. I'd do it again discharge or not," Soap said. "I know you would," Price couldn't help but chuckle. "Fortunately for you that won't be a problem. His captain is as much of a cunt as he is but we worked it out. You'll be suspended for six weeks," Price said. "And for what it's worth I would've done the same to the bloody bastard," Price added, before he dismissed Soap.

You figured Soap would've had enough time to have his talk with Price so you headed towards his room. You passed by the rec room to see Yates mopping his blood off the floor; you could already hear Price telling him to "clean his bloody floor". You made it to Soap's room and rapped on the door. "It's open," Soap said. You walked in and saw Soap lounging on his bed wearing one of those tight muscle shirts that drove you crazy.

"So? How bad is it?" You said, wetting a washcloth and coming to sit next to him. You grabbed his hands and started dabbing the warm cloth over his knuckles. "Six week suspension," he said, focusing on the feeling of you cleaning off his hands. "Really?" You asked surprised. "How'd you manage that?" You said, getting up to rinse of the washcloth. "Price vouched for me. Without him I could've gotten into some real trouble," he replied, looking at you clean off his other hand.

"You know I appreciate you doing that but you shouldn't have," you said, tossing the cloth into his hamper. "I couldn't let him say those things about you Bonnie," he said, looking at you. "It wasn't right," Soap added. "You could've lost your job Johnny. I would never want you to do that for me," you shook your head. Soap grabbed your hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. "I love you hen and I'll always defend you," he said. "I love you too Johnny," You said, giving him a kiss. Soap wanted to make sure you knew you could always count on him.