#and how that same year you got sexually assaulted in a way that was so weird you assumed no one would beleive you so you just didnt tell

[rebellum]

God writing that last post was so, so hard.

Rn I feel the weight of every sadness and every bad thing that's happened to me since I was 9 and had my first important pet death

[boxingcleverrr]

Popular Hades & Persephone "retellings" are, rightly, getting dunked on all over the socials right now and, as a Pagan who has an altar to the Queen, I could not be happier. But also, I feel like a lot of people miss WHY they're bad - aside from just plain bad writing and lazy tropes. Which are, yeah, also REALLY bad.

Pretty much all retellings try to wave away, or excuse, or twist the whole kidnapping bit. And I actually do have sympathy and understanding for why, when speaking from a modern perspective.

But honestly...you gotta get over it. There are other stories to play fix-it with, not this one.

The Abduction is The Thing.

Were I a little more sober I could bring up chapter and verse of the Hymn to Demeter but frankly, if you know even the middle school mythology curriculum version of the story, you SHOULD know the themes. The story of Persephone was one mothers and daughters in the ancient world held dear, because it was a reality: you will, one day, be swept away from your home to go cleave to a man you most likely know nothing about. You will miss your mother, but chances are very good that he will be a good husband, once you get to know him, certainly better than Zeus or Ares, and he will make you a queen of his home.

Leaving home to marry was often scary, and violent (look up the history of the tradition of Bridesmaids, if you don't already know it - they were originally decoys on the marriage road). Centuries later we'd have tales like Beauty & The Beast serving the same function: comfort, hope, you are leaving your safe loving home to figure life out with a (often older, powerful) stranger. Your trauma over this sudden ending of your childhood made manifest in a Beast, or a God of The Underworld.

It's wonderful that we don't NEED stories like this anymore to comfort us (here, at least, in this culture). But if you try to force them into modern vernacular it just will not work, not really, because you're gutting out the whole point just to have a more tidy romantic male hero.

I have read MANY very good ...novelizations? fanfic(? however you would frame them, but they're certainly not "retellings"), etc. that simply take advantage of the blank spaces in the myth, and there are many!

It's not explicit that sexual assault happens - "The Rape of Persephone" as a title was coined in much earlier eras, when the word was just as often used to simply refer to abduction.

"She was starving!" the gods didn't need to eat. So it's easy to read her eating the Pom seeds as a deliberate choice on her part. Like, shit, people, scholars have written whole papers on the symbolism of this moment, between marriage rites and even yeah, Seph choosing both worlds with her husband's knowing consent.

And that, I think, is the real heart of the thing. People want an utterly mundane, spelled-out story here, as opposed to what it really is, has always been, just like any other myth or religious parable: IT'S A METAPHOOOOOOR.

They don't need to be destined, or meet at a goddamned BALL and then CONSPIRE to fake her kidnapping, or shit, I once saw one where Hades got MIND CONTROLLED by Zeus?! Jesus.

Persephone was yoinked into the Underworld against her will.

That's how it went.

I don't mean this in a "stay out of my belief system!" way, shit I'm a white American chick with delusions of witchery. I mean this in a "stop stressing yourself out trying to make things palatable" way:

This is a very real, very precious myth to many people, BECAUSE for at least that one event, Persephone had no autonomy, BECAUSE for thousands of years most women had no autonomy. Erasing that, sanitizing the fact that a girl is ripped out of the spring, from her mother's arms, is erasing the thing that gave comfort to women for centuries. And people can and should still find power and healing in it now!

Fill in the blanks the story leaves in whatever manner seems fit to you, there's plenty of room, but. Come the fuck on.

[fatecantstopme]

Better Together

Pairing: Rafael Barba x reader

Summary: Barba acts like he hates you because it's the only way he can keep his cool in your presence. Things come to a head and you call him out on it...

Warnings: cursing, Rafael is a bit of a dick at first. Use of nicknames (baby, cariño, querida, etc.). SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

A/N: Spanish translations in brackets/italics after each sentence.

cariño/querida: sweetheart/dear/darling/baby/etc.

por favor: please

qué: what

hermosa: beautiful/gorgeous

"Right...and what makes you qualified to make that determination?"

You glared at him. "Eight years of education and ten years of practice."

"Fine, but how long did you actually talk to him?" he countered.

"Four hours."

"So now you're an expert in his mental health?"

You groaned. "He belongs in a psychiatric facility, Barba. Not a prison."

"I disagree. He raped and murdered five women."

"I'm not defending his actions, but I'm telling you he's incapable of understanding the consequences of his actions."

"She's right, counselor," Olivia Benson cut in. "I got the same feeling she did when I first talked to him."

Rafael Barba let out an annoyed huff. "Fine. What do you propose?"

"Offer him a deal," she suggested. "Send him where he can get the help he needs."

Barba nodded, expression still slightly annoyed. "Fine." With that, he walked out of the precinct, presumably to go write up a deal.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, you turned to your friend and colleague. "He argues with me for ten minutes straight, but you tell him the same damn thing and he immediately agrees?"

Olivia shrugged. "You know how he is."

"Pompous, arrogant, rude, and downright insulting?"

She laughed. "All of the above, but he's also a pretty damn good ADA."

You sighed. "I would absolutely love to disagree with you, but you're not wrong. Part of me hates that he's so good at his job. And I hate his smug face and his attitude and those damn three piece suits he looks so goddamn good in," you finished your ramble with a groan.

"Maybe if you told him you thought he was hot, he'd be nicer to you," Olivia said with a wink.

"I hate you."

She laughed. "No you don't."

"Fine, I don't, but I will do no such thing. He quite clearly despises me."

"Does he?"

"Does who what?" Nick Amaro asked as he entered the squad room.

"Does Barba hate (Y/N)?" Olivia asked.

Nick chuckled. "Without a doubt."

"See?!" you said smugly.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "One of these days you're going to have to talk to him. Tell him off for being such an ass to you all the time."

"Now that I agree with," Nick cut in.

"If he pushes the right buttons, I will."

**********

Little did you know that two days later, Barba would push the exact right button.

Olivia, Nick, Amanda, Fin, and yourself were gathered in the squad room discussing your latest case. You had two dead girls in two days and 1PP was already breathing down your necks.

You were going over the profile with the team when Barba walked in. "I know it sounds crazy, guys, but I believe the perp is a girl...probably the same age as the victims."

"Why?" Fin asked.

As you started to explain your reasoning, to include the lack of sexual assault, the relationship between the two girls, and the anger clearly present in the attacks, Barba cut you off with a harsh laugh.

"You think a 10 year old girl is capable of inflicting that kind of trauma?" he interjected. "There's no way."

You took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled from your mouth before responding. You needed those ten seconds to calm yourself so you didn't murder him. "Were you ever a 10 year old girl?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Obviously not."

"Are you a forensic psychologist?"

"Again, no."

"Have you been working violent sex crimes for 10 years?"

"No..."

"Then be quiet and listen," you finished harshly.

You'd never snapped at him quite so intensely before and he was taken aback. He was also very aware that he may have taken it a little too far this time. He'd made it a point to keep you at arm's length (or farther) for the past 6 months, and he was belatedly realizing he may have been too cruel.

You finished your profile, answering the questions posed by the rest of the squad, before everyone went about their assigned duties.

Barba announced he was going back to his office to update the DA and you were thankful to be rid of him.

"Maybe you were right, (Y/N)," Olivia said softly. "He either hates you or he hates shrinks."

"Likely both."

"I'm proud of you for clapping back," Amanda said warmly. "Someone's gotta put that guy in his place every once in a while."

You smiled mirthlessly. "Once this case is over, I may have more to say to him, but for now, let's focus on finding the person who killed those girls."

**********

Three days later and you had your suspect in custody. You'd been right in your assessment of the perp...it turned out to be a 10 year old girl who had been relentlessly teased and bullied by the two victims for an entire year. The girl finally snapped and killed them both in a blind rage.

After hearing all of the terrible things that had been done to her, you felt sorry for the girl. You understood why she'd killed those girls, even if you didn't condone it.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," Fin called. "We're going out for drinks. My treat."

"I think I'll take a rain check guys...I've got something I need to do."

"Awww no fun," Amanda teased.

Olivia gave you a look, but you smiled at her reassuringly. She took it to mean you were okay, so she followed the others out.

You'd decided to pay a very special visit to a certain ADA...

You arrived at his office 20 minutes later, and you belatedly realized you probably should have checked to see if he was even there still. It was already after 6pm, but you hoped since he was a workaholic, he would be unaware of the late hour.

When you reached his office door, you found yourself taking a deep breath. You started to question yourself and whether this was a good idea, but then you thought about the way he'd been treating you and you got a burst of courage.

You knocked on his door and waited. You heard a slightly annoyed "Come in", so you opened the door and stepped into his office.

Barba looked up from the paperwork he was buried in, a look of surprise ghosting over his face. "Dr. (Y/L/N)...to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You shut the door behind you and took a step towards his desk. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise.

"Do you have a problem with me, specifically, or is it psychologists in general?"

"I don't have a problem with psychologists."

"So it's me, got it. Do you mind telling me what the hell I did to you?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "You didn't do anything to me."

"Then why do you treat me like I'm some sort of imbecile?"

"I...I never intended to make you feel that way," he said honestly.

"Really? How did you intend to make me feel? You belittle me, insult my abilities and my intelligence, you're unnecessarily rude to me in front of my colleagues..." you trailed off.

He rose from his seat and came around the front of his desk. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders had slumped slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he actually felt bad for the way he'd been treating you.

"You're right," he admitted. "I have treated you entirely unfairly."

It was your turn to look surprised. Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, an admission of guilt was certainly not one of them.

"I don't want you to think, for even a moment, that I don't think you're brilliant. You are the sharpest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and you're downright phenomenal at your job."

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times before you could formulate a coherent response. "How in the hell was I supposed to know that?"

He blushed and cast his gaze to the floor. "I suppose there was no way for you to know, given the way I've treated you."

"Why, then?" you asked softly.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. "It's--complicated."

"Enlighten me, Barba. I've got time."

His green eyes raised back up to meet yours and you found yourself nearly breathless--and not for the first time. His eyes were beautiful, typically sparkling with whit and mischief; but in this moment, they shone with emotions so complex you couldn't begin to comprehend them.

"I never intended to be cruel to you, only distant. But I found that being aloof wasn't enough to keep you at bay--I needed something stronger. So...I started treating you as if I hated you. It was just easier, and perhaps safer."

"Safer?"

He nodded, but neglected to clarify. "Keeping you out of my life has become a necessity, Dr. (Y/L/N)."

His formality annoyed you, but you didn't comment on it. "Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't like me?"

He groaned and turned back to his desk to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Because it's not true, and I'm many things, but a liar isn't one of them."

"Okay, but you want nothing to do with me?"

"Exactly."

"You do understand how contradictory that sounds, correct?"

He took a long drink from his glass and leaned back against his desk. "It sounds moronic, yes, I am aware."

You debated your next words with care. You knew if you said what was on your mind, you might regret it, but you also knew if you didn't say it, you would regret it.

"When I met you, I was instantly intrigued by you," you began. "It was obvious you were highly intelligent, but you were also funny, charming, and impeccably well-dressed. It's a rare combination."

You crossed your arms and sighed. "At first, you were friendly and I quite liked you, but things between us turned icy in an instant. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now, but what I can tell you is it hurt me. It hurt me deeply, Barba, and it still does."

If he'd felt like an ass before, he felt 1,000 times worse now. "I never intended to hurt you," he said quietly. "You're a kind and loving soul...and you don't deserve to be treated the way I've been treating you."

"You're right," you whispered. "I don't."

He winced slightly and downed the rest of his scotch. "I am truly sorry, (Y/N). More than you'll ever know."

His use of your first name was not lost on you. You could count on one hand the number of times he'd said it and you'd reacted the same way each time. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your breath caught, and your heart began to speed up.

Rafael had never noticed before...had never really paid attention to you the very few times he'd said your name, but he saw your reaction this time. For the first time since he'd met you, he began to wonder if you shared his feelings...

You quickly recovered yourself--praying he hadn't noticed. "I appreciate your apology." Your voice was slightly off pitch and you wanted to kick yourself for letting any emotion show.

"May I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

"You said what you thought of me when we first met--what do you think of me now?"

"Do you really want to know?"

He nodded.

You swallowed thickly. "Everything I said is true. You're a brilliant man and an even better lawyer...and you can be funny and charming, when you want to be. But that's not the Rafael Barba I get. I get the one reserved for the criminals and defense attorneys you dislike. The ones that make your skin crawl. You're pompous, arrogant, and cruel."

He closed his eyes tightly. Hearing you say what you really thought of him was much more painful than he'd anticipated.

"But I don't believe that's who you really are," you said so softly he almost didn't hear.

He looked back up at you in surprise.

"I think it's a facade you put up--a mask you wear to hide behind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Call it intuition, or perhaps training," you said with a shrug. "Either way, I am certain you really are the man I met in the beginning--not the man you've been the past several months."

"How could you have that much faith in me? After the way I've treated you..."

"Perhaps it's foolish...or maybe I just want it to be true."

He stared at you with a strange look on his face. It was as if he was trying to decide if you were playing him or being sincere. His expression slowly morphed as he realized you'd meant every word you'd said.

"May I be honest with you?" he asked.

"I want nothing less."

"Truthfully, I'm terrified of you. Absolutely, 100%, completely terrified."

Your jaw dropped slightly. Once again, he’d caught you off guard.

"You got under my skin the moment I met you and I haven't been able to get rid of you since. I've never felt like this--like I can't control my own actions or my emotions--and it's petrifying. I thought pushing you away would change how I felt, but it only intensified it. I think that's why I became crueler over time--I was angry at myself and angry with you for making me feel this way. It's not fair to you, I know, but it's the truth."

You were once again shocked to the core. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing...if you weren't so good at reading people, you'd be convinced he was lying, but as it stood, you knew it was the raw, painful truth.

"You can't control everything, you know," you said quietly.

He laughed harshly. "God, how I wish I could."

"What are you so afraid of?"

He took a moment to answer, but once he did, the words poured out of him. "I'm afraid the way I feel about you will ruin both of our careers. I'm afraid that once you see the man behind the mask, you'll run and leave me broken. I'm afraid that we'll fall apart...that we won't stand the test of time. I'm afraid of falling so deeply in love with you that I lose myself completely. But most of all, I'm afraid that I've already screwed this up beyond repair."

For all your education and all the eloquent words you've learned in your lifetime, you found yourself stunned into complete and utter silence. No words came to mind, no coherent thoughts emerged. You stared at him and he stared at you, as the silence dragged on.

After what had to be an eternity, Rafael spoke again. "Please say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see my face again. Tell me you'd rather jump off a building than be with me--"

"Stop!" The intensity of your demand silenced him. "Just stop talking…I…I can't find the words I want to say, but I do know one thing: I'm not afraid."

Out of all the things you could have said, all the beautiful sentences you could have strung together, those three words were the perfect response. Fueled with sudden courage, Rafael crossed the space between the two of you in three long strides, coming to a stop a few inches from you.

With a shaking hand, he gently stroked your cheek. "May I?" he asked quietly.

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his and you softly begged, "Please."

He leaned into you, lips pressing against yours with soft insistence. The kiss ignited something within you--a desire so deep and powerful it almost frightened you. You grabbed ahold of his suspenders and tugged his body closer to yours as you deepened the kiss.

Rafael moaned softly against your lips, tongue pressing forward, requesting access. You obliged, lips parting to allow him entry. His hands traveled down your soft curves until they landed on your hips. He used his gentle strength to pull you flush against him, his own body backed up against his desk to support him.

You could feel his need for you in his kiss, in his touch...and in his pants. His growing erection was pressed against you, so close to where you wanted him, yet so far away.

Rafael broke the kiss for a moment. "Carmen left for the day."

"Mhmm," you hummed in response.

"But I don't want our first time together to be on the couch in my office."

"How 'bout the desk?" you teased lightly.

He groaned. "Don't think I haven't imagined it, but I'd like to take you home...do this properly--in a bed."

You stared at him for a moment. "If we stay here, it can be casual, unassuming. If I go home with you...that changes everything."

"I don't want casual. I don't want a fling. I want you--and everything that comes along with that."

You studied him closely before responding. You noted the sincerity in his voice and his expression and decided to--for once--allow your heart to lead your decision. "Take me home, Rafael," you whispered.

He breathed deeply, as if trying to control himself. It appeared that you had the same effect on him as he did on you when you called him by his first name.

He didn't say a word--you weren't even sure he could have if he'd wanted to. He simply grabbed his jacket, took your hand, and practically dragged you to the elevator. Once outside, he hailed a cab and helped you into the backseat before sliding in beside you.

As the cab began to move, you rested your hand on Rafael's thigh. He glanced at you, but didn't say anything. You were feeling bold, so you slid your hand slowly up his thigh, inching closer to his evident arousal.

When your fingertips brushed against his clothed cock, he hissed slightly. He leaned over to whisper into your ear so the cab driver wouldn't hear. "Careful, querida. O puedo perder el control [Or I may lose control]."

You inhaled sharply--something about his tone mixed with the hushed Spanish words, sent a jolt of pure arousal straight to your core.

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by Rafael. He smirked as he discovered one of your kinks. He tucked the knowledge away for later use.

You managed to behave yourself for the rest of the short ride to his apartment, but once inside the building, all bets were off.

His lips were on yours the moment the elevator doors slid closed, pressing your body firmly against the wall. Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing up the perfect locks.

As the elevator dinged and the doors began to open, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You saw the desperation in his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same look reflected in yours.

He wasted no time guiding you to his apartment and the moment you were both inside, he had you spun around and pressed up against the door.

“Querida,” he whispered hungrily against your lips, fingertips dancing under your shirt.

You moaned softly as you tugged harshly on his suspenders, pushing them out of the way so you could remove his shirt.

Within moments, your clothes and his were strewn across the house as he carried you to his bedroom, nothing left between you but underwear.

Rafael tossed you gently onto the bed before climbing on top of you. He eyed you hungrily—sprawled out beneath him, desire evident on your face.

“You are perfect, hermosa.”

You blushed. “Rafa…”

He groaned. “Fuck. Don’t do that.”

Confusion clouded your expression. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong…

He’d closed his eyes and his face gave away the internal struggle he was experiencing.

Realization suddenly crossed your features and you grinned. You gently raked your nails down his chest as you murmured the nickname again, “Rafa.”

His eyes shot open and he rutted his hips against yours, mouth pressing wet kisses to your heated skin. His teeth nipped at your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his wake.

He was taking his time with you. Wanting to explore every part of you, taste every inch of your skin, catalogue every detail in his mind.

You whimpered softly, not used to such attention, nor such deliberate slowness. “Rafael, please.”

He looked up at you with his trademark smirk. “You ever been with a Hispanic man before, Cariño?”

You blushed and shook your head.

His smirk widened. “We like to take our time, make sure our lady is properly loved and appreciated. This is about your enjoyment, (Y/N/N), not mine.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself too…”

He kissed you gently. “You keep making those pretty sounds for me, querida, and I promise you, I’ll enjoy myself.”

You found yourself unable to respond as he continued his slow descent towards your core. Each gentle caress of his lips against your skin seemed to set your nerve endings on fire--the need within you growing exponentially.

You whined prettily, hips shifting upwards, desperately seeking his lips where you needed them most. "Please," you begged.

You didn't know it yet, but Rafael would never deny you--not in the real world, nor the bedroom. The moment he heard your soft voice begging, he glanced up at your face. You already looked so far gone--your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your breathing was ragged. He smiled to himself as he lowered his head, giving you no time to adjust as he dove into you with abandon.

You gasped as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. As skilled as the man between your legs was in the courtroom, he was even better suited with his mouth hungrily devouring you.

In the span of mere minutes, he'd turned you into a gasping, moaning mess--every one of your senses overwhelmed with feeling.

"Rafa--I--I'm close," you gasped.

He hummed against you, lips wrapping around your clit to increase his assault. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place as he sped up his ministrations.

Your jaw dropped as a flurry of sounds--some of which were intended to be his name--slipped from your lips. Your orgasm sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through your body, but that pleasure soon turned to sensitivity.

"Rafa, too much--" you whispered as you tried to pull away from him.

He laid his arm across your lower belly, effectively holding you in place as his mouth continued to work you. His eyes flicked up to yours to check if you really did want him to stop, but your head was already thrown back, chest rising and falling rapidly as the familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

The moment your cries turned to moans and pleas to continue, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. "Did you want me to stop, querida?"

"No!" you cried loudly, fingers grasping his hair in an attempt to guide him back where you wanted him.

He smirked as he complied with your direction, lips and tongue once again sending you into a spiral of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

As you came down from your second high, Rafael finally slowed his assault and allowed you to pull his head up when it became too much.

He placed soft kisses against your heated skin, gently soothing you as the aftershocks shuddered through your body. His lips traced the curves of your face with gentle affection until your breathing had begun to normalize.

Rafael kissed you deeply, desire evident in the action. In response, your hand slowly descended down his chest and abdomen, until you reached his throbbing cock. You lightly ran your nails across the still clothed member, enticing a groan from the man above you.

You teased him for a few more seconds before sliding your hand beneath his boxer briefs and palming his cock in your warm hand. He groaned loudly--hips rutting against your hand instantly.

"I wanna taste you," you murmured against the shell of his ear.

"You don't have to..." he said softly.

There was something in his voice that caused you to pull away so you could see his face properly. He looked worried and perhaps a little apprehensive.

"But I want to," you reassured him.

"You do?"

You nodded. "It's something I enjoy very much, Rafa, so if you're okay with it, I would really like to suck your cock."

His eyes closed briefly and he moaned softly, forehead dropping against yours. "Por favor," he begged in a broken voice.

You grinned ear to ear. "Stand up."

"Qué?" he asked in confusion.

You nudged him gently and tilted your head towards the edge of the bed. "Stand up, handsome."

He did as you asked and watched in surprise as you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor in front of him. He felt like he needed to remind you again that you didn't need to do this for him, but when he saw the hunger in your eyes, he fell silent.

You slowly dragged his underwear down, freeing his cock from its constraints. You were a little surprised by his size--he was longer than average and quite thick--but surprise quickly turned to hunger.

You looked up at him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips, and all his worries faded away. It was obvious you wanted this...perhaps just as much as he did.

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, eyes never leaving his face.

You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but you pushed past it, determined to provide him with as much pleasure as you could muster.

As you began to move, his fingers intertwined in your hair and his hips stuttered forwards occasionally. You knew what he needed, but it was clear he wasn't going to do it without some prodding.

You pulled off of him with a *pop* and waited until his heavily lidded eyes met yours. "Rafael, I want you to enjoy this."

"I am, cariño," he said in confusion.

"Not as much as you could be." You licked the tip of his cock for emphasis and his hips jumped slightly. "I want you to use my mouth for your own pleasure, Rafa. That's what it's there for."

He shook his head rapidly. He'd been expressly told not to do that by several women before you.

You rubbed his thighs reassuringly. "I want this, baby. Please," you begged. "Please fuck my mouth."

The moment the words were out of your mouth, you sucked his cock back into the warmth of your lips, hoping he would take you seriously. You pressed yourself forward, pushing past the gag reflex to take his entire member into your mouth.

Without hesitation, you began to guide his hips, urging him to give in and take what he wanted--what he needed.

You flicked your gaze up to meet his and nodded your head as best you could, hands still encouraging him to move. He very tentatively began to move his hips and you smiled, fingers digging into his thighs.

When you didn't pull away, he started to put a little more force into the movements. When you still didn't pull away, he sped up, fingers wrapping in your hair to keep you still.

You let him take control, eyes still trained on his face. He slowly began to thrust in earnest, fucking your mouth like it was his favorite place to be. You watched his head fall back, moans of intense pleasure leaving his lips.

You held onto him and focused on breathing as you let him use you. A few minutes passed before his hips began to stutter and you knew he was close.

You prepared to swallow everything he had to give you, but he surprised you by pulling away, your mouth coming off of him with a *pop*.

His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wild--pupils blocking out the brilliant green. "I need you," he said, voice raw and husky.

You understood his meaning and quickly crawled back onto the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, lips latching onto your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh.

His cock rubbed against the outside of your pussy and you both groaned.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Do I need a condom?"

"Pill," you gasped as you shook your head. "Wanna feel you fill me up, Rafa."

He let out a low growl and his eyes turned even more feral. He gave you no warning as he plunged his cock deep inside of you, stretching you in ways you'd never been stretched before.

"Rafael!" you cried out at the sensation.

Normally he would have forced himself to give you time to adjust, but his mind was too far gone. He set a brutal pace almost instantly and you were simply along for the ride.

There were so many new sensations that you were having a hard time staying focused. Everything just felt so incredible.

Your pussy throbbed around him, pulling him in even deeper. "Te sienetes muy bien, querida." [You feel so good, sweetheart.]

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back as you arched against him.

"Te gusta cuando te hablo español, ¿no?" he growled into your ear. [You like it when I speak Spanish to you, don't you?"]

"Yes!" you gasped.

"Chica sucia," he chuckled darkly. [Dirty girl.]

"Rafa, please--I'm so close."

He groaned. "Quiero que vengas conmigo, cariño," he mumbled. [I want you to cum with me, sweetheart.] "Can you do that for me?" he asked in English.

You nodded your head rapidly.

"Esa es mi buena chica," he praised. [That's my good girl.]

You moaned lowly, preening at his praise. He smiled and picked up his pace, not wanting to stop until he felt you fall apart. "So close," he mumbled.

"Don't--stop!"

He knew you were close--could tell by the way your pussy fluttered around him--so he whispered, "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your orgasm hit you with more force than either of the two you'd had earlier. Rafael groaned your name as he spilled his seed within you, filling you up as your walls milked him dry.

You both began to come down from your highs, the intensity of your orgasms taking the wind out of both of you. Rafael pulled out and collapsed beside you, completely spent and satiated.

"That was pretty decent," you said between breaths.

He snapped his head in your direction and started to laugh when he saw the mischief in your eyes.

You grinned and joined in on his laughter, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him.

"Very decent," he muttered against your hair.

You laughed again. "'Fucking incredible' would be a more accurate description."

"I couldn't agree more." He sighed softly. "I don't wanna move."

"Who says we have to?"

"We probably should...we do have work in the morning after all."

Your body tensed slightly and he felt it, realizing how his previous statement may have sounded. "I want you to stay, querida. I'm just saying we should probably get up and shower before we fall asleep."

You relaxed. "You may have to carry me."

He chuckled and dragged himself out of bed, pulling you along with him. He scooped you up despite your protests and carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter while he started the shower.

"I was kidding, Rafa!"

He smiled. "If my girl can walk immediately after sex, then I did something wrong. I'm always happy to carry you."

You smiled back at him, realizing he was completely serious. You watched him quietly, completely lost in thought.

"Where's your mind, querida?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "I'm happy...that's all."

Rafael kissed you gently. "Me too, hermosa. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Once you were both clean and dry, he carried you back to his bed and laid you down gently before crawling into the bed beside you. He tugged you in closely against his chest and you sighed contentedly.

"Go to sleep, cariño. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

Somehow he seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear. Knowing he wasn't going anywhere and feeling his strong arms wrapped around you, allowed you to feel a calm peace you'd not felt in years.

Within minutes, you'd drifted off to sleep in his arms. Just before he fell asleep too, Rafael kissed the top of your head and whispered, "Te adoro con locura." [I adore you madly.]

[33446699]

What's going on in Korea ?

From middle school students involved in the recent Nth room cases to police being involved in these cases to K-pop idols involved in sexual assault cases in south Korea ,I wonder what's really going on in korea, women not being safe and that why it's so important for everyone to raise a voice for sexual assault victims nomatter where they are from ,sadly woman in any part of world aren't safe ,someday its India ,next its Korea ,someday it will be another country ,and I hope and expect that with these cases being surfaced,we should remove the rose coloured glasses and see idols , celebrities as a men ,as a woman ,as a human being , and with this being said don't get involved in fanwars don't make it a matter of fanwars and please support victims

Don't let your feelings and morals protect Celebrities instead of victims ,with investigation going on for months ,he going on concert tours while being investigated,with journalists knew nothing about this case ,with his members knowing about his crimes ,police being tight lipped and being under control of SM and SM mind you only removed him because the case is so serious, with victim being a minor and trying to tell people and trying to get justice on various social media platforms for months ,I really wish everything will be exposed to public ,members unfollowing him on social media even his friends for more than 17 years unfollowing him and with SM continuously deleting articles from NAVER and from under NCT tag (more than 16+ articles got deleted in 3 hours ),it's tells alot who is literally controlling media , journalists ,blogs and it also tells how victims should be the one who deserves justice who should be the one fans and general public stand with in these cases ,dont let your emotions control you ,and support someone who is not meant to be supported ,(MORALS SHOULD BE SAME REGARDLESS OF WHO THE PERSON IS ) ,and it's just tells again that we can't know anything about idols/celebrities if they dont want us to know anything ,we as fans are only fans in the end and we see a part of their lives which is acceptable and likeable to society , so please support the victims in every way possible 🙏🏼

Idk whats more concerning SM not cancelling his contract or him undergoing normal investigations for months like a normal citizen while being an offender ,how much power money companies holds it tells alot ,it's so horrible and disturbing and with a company like SM removing him and being low-key about everything which was happening for months and him doing this for 6 years is so so horrible ,can't imagine the pain and fear the victim suffered and is now in and I hope south Korea changes it's laws and protect their woman ,and let more people from industry expose in case they are involved cause how can someone do this for 6 long years and no one knew ,fans didn't have any idea

I hope the victims get justice and healing they need and it makes me even more sad that just yesterday I was making post about Nth room crimes in Korea and that post still being in drafts and today this happened,it's so sad

[cxrdycxps]

Pretty Hurts • Ellie Williams

☢️ female reader • lesbian reader (it’s well defined) • canon typical violence • sexual assault • mean!ellie can’t deal with feelings • victim shaming • strap on sex • Ellie’s also mean in bed • recreational drug use ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Jesse! Hey, Jesse.” You chased your friend up the street, almost running into him when he stopped suddenly. He looked you up and down, eyes narrowed. It had been unseasonably warm today but he was sure you were pushing it.

“What’s got you all dressed up, Princess?” Jesse asked and you looked down at your outfit like you needed a reminder of what you were wearing. “Or dressed down, I guess?”

“You think it’s hot?” You asked him and he blanched, looking over his shoulder as if Dina would appear out of nowhere to hear the conversation. “Not for you obviously.”

Jesse would admit there was a certain allure to it. He would admit that on his death bed where a very jealous Dina wouldn’t be able to strangle him for it.

You had your usual cowboy boots on that you wore year round. You had been heartbroken when you busted your last pair beyond repair while on patrol one day. Ellie had saved the day almost three weeks later when she returned with a new pair for you.

Usually you could be found clad in a tight pair of jeans, weirdly proud of your looks for someone who had been born after the world ended. It had earned you the nickname of Princess by most of your peers. Today, instead of the typical jeans, was a short denim skirt. You had clearly sacrificed a pair of jeans for them but Jesse could appreciate the sacrifice. Completely unbiased, just as a man.

He was starting to get paranoid Dina would hear his thoughts. At this point he was going to deserve to be strangled. The top you were wearing was also of your own doing. It had been a white blouse once, Jesse guessed. Except now it was sleeveless and cropped, tying at the front in a little knot. You hadn’t bothered to button it all the way.

“Well that answers that.” You grinned happily and Jesse blinked at you. “You were staring, it means I look hot.”

You gave him a little twirl and he was treated to a glimpse of what he was certain was definitely your underwear. He closed his eyes and asked the lord for strength, if he even existed.

“Tonight’s the night.” You told him enthusiastically. Jesse still hadn’t gathered enough brain cells to answer you but it was like you didn’t need him to. Like you could read his mind in the way he feared Dina could. “Ellie’s finally coming to a dance.”

“Think you’ve picked it up wrong, Princess. Ellie doesn’t dance. Ellie actively avoids dances by hanging out in Joel’s garage and smoking so much she reeks of weed for three days after.” That was oddly specific. Jesse knew far too much about his friends at this point. Ellie’s smoking habits, the color of your underwear. When would it end?

“I know but it’s part of her fixing her relationship with Joel. He likes these things apparently, even though he just sits down the back and glares at people.” You told Jesse excitedly. For some reason Joel liked you.

He told you about how he was trying to fix things between him and Ellie. He talked to you during meals, he patrolled with you and he even had been caught leaving your house.

In the beginning it had been weird. Everyone felt weird about it including Ellie who had callously called you out for fucking Joel a few months after she had arrived to Jackson.

You hadn’t had the best reaction about it. Calling Ellie a slew of names, promptly bursting into tears and running out of the Tipsy Bison. And while Joel would probably murder people for looking at Ellie wrong, he had shaken his head at Ellie, following you out of the bar.

Turns out you had known Joel. He had helped you years ago when he had come across a gang of rival raiders, ones that didn’t have the same barely there morals he had.

No women or no children. He had sworn he wouldn’t do that and he had stuck to it. So when he came across you, barely ten and already far more exposed to the cruelties of the world something in him had snapped.

He had gotten you and your mother away. And the pair of you had made your way to Jackson, only for him to find you years later. Your mother having passed away since he had last saw you.

It just so happened one of the nights he had been walking home late from the Tipsy Bison he had encountered you trying to tell one of the stable boys you weren’t interested.

He hadn’t listened and Joel had intervened, reminding you of that fateful night so many years ago. The puzzle pieces had clicked and you had formed a sort of dependency on the man who had saved your life.

At this point Joel was collecting daughters like they were Pokémon and he was too tired to keep fighting it so he just let you come around when you had some small issue you needed advice on.

You had explained some of this to Ellie the next night, apologizing for calling her names in an act of graciousness nobody was sure Ellie deserved. It wasn’t long until most of your inner circle had put it together that you had a crush on her.

Everyone but Ellie, that was. So you had hatched these elaborate schemes to get her attention and everyone watched when you crashed and burned only to bounce back again and again.

You were kind of unshakeable. It was almost inspiring.

So when you walked into the Tipsy Bison that night with your hair curled and what passed for make up on these days everyone was ready to watch you fail again.

A few of the women had been reclaiming old beauty practices after a particularly good patrol had found an old salon with hair styling tools. And some out of date makeup but it was powders so did it even count as an expiration date?

“She always does so much and for what?” Ellie asked and Joel looked up from his drink to find you scanning the crowd. “Oh god she’s going to coming over here.”

“Cut her some slack, I thought you were friends now.” Joel sighed and Ellie looked back at Joel before looking back at you.

“We’ve nothing in common except Jesse and Dina.” Ellie explained to Joel. Joel knew he was on thin enough ice with Ellie so he didn’t mention that according to you, there was so many shared interests that it just made sense.

Instead of approaching like Ellie had predicted you would after spotting her, you made your way to the bar instead and Joel watched Ellie’s eyes lock on the length of your skirt. Or rather the lack of length to it.

Joel wondered if he was in good enough graces with Ellie again yet to make a joke about it but he caught himself at the last second in case he ruined your best laid plans.

He looked back to you at the bar and found it wasn’t just Ellie’s attention you had managed to capture. Stable boy apparently hadn’t learned his lesson and had returned for more.

Joel straightened up in his seat and wondered if Tommy would kill him for hurting this kid. It would probably be worth it to teach him a lesson.

Joel didn’t need to move because he watched Ellie approach you and slot in on your other side, taking all of your attention. Ellie gestured for three drinks off Seth before turning to look at you.

“New skirt?” Ellie asked and you lit up like the fact that she noticed was the greatest thing ever. Like you couldn’t even hear the stable boy say anything from behind you as he attempted to get your attention back.

“Do you like it?” You asked Ellie, giving her a little twirl so she could appreciate the whole view. Ellie let her eyes trace you up and down as you finished with a little bounce and who was Ellie to not appreciate the way your tits moved.

“I mean, it’s a skirt.” She shrugged and you visibly deflated as Seth approached with the drinks.

“I think it’s a great skirt.” Stable boy told you and you barely looked over your shoulder at him to roll your eyes.

“Literally no one in Jackson cares what you think Darwin.” You snapped and Ellie laughed lightly, nudging the third glass in your direction.

“Come on then.” She instructed and nodded to where Joel was sitting, watching the whole interaction with what was almost a smile on his face.

“With you?” You asked, cradling the drink in your hand and looking between her and the table.

“Unless you want to stay here with Darwin?” Ellie shrugged and started walking away. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you followed her over to the table. Instead of taking the seat she had been in, beside Joel, she took the one across the table from him, kicking the chair beside her out in a casual way that made your heart beat double time.

“Hey Joel, how you doin’?” You asked, smiling at him before taking a sip of your drink. He took his own drink from the table and sipped at it slowly, looking over your shoulder.

“Am I gonna have to talk to Stable Boy?” Joel asked rather than answer your question and you followed his gaze to where Darwin had his elbows leaned back on the bar, watching you.

“She’s plenty capable, ain’t you Princess?” Ellie asked, her arm sliding along the back of your chair. “Put him in his place just now.”

You had been barely paying attention to Darwin at the bar, definitely not enough to remember what you had said. Recalling as much was even hard with Ellie’s fingers tracing the place when you had cut the sleeves off your blouse. Her finger traced your skin lightly and you could feel the goosebumps following in her wake.

“Is that so?” Joel asked with what was almost a smile. “What’d you tell him?”

“I uh, I don’t know.” You muttered, looking back again to find Darwin wasn’t looking anymore, talking to some of his friends. “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

“Told him no one cared about his opinion in all of Jackson.” Ellie sounded proud of you and you leaned further back into her arm with a satisfied grin.

“He should know better than goin’ talkin’ to you anyway.” Joel muttered, swirling his glass as the music started up. “I obviously didn’t scare him enough.”

Ellie looked between you both and back to Darwin. You figured she didn’t know anything about the night Joel interrupted you both in the middle of an argument.

“Darwin’s really not so bad.” You sighed, looking back at him again. He was talking avidly, telling a story with his hands and his friends were laughing. “He just don’t know what to do with a pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl?” Ellie laughed meanly and you looked up at her and swallowed the lump suddenly growing in your throat. “You sure of that?”

You leaned forward, away from her arm and stared at the table before looking up at Joel who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I uh, I’m gonna..” you trailed off, shaking your head before standing up.

You passed Jesse and Dina who were coming in. They watched you and looked across to where Ellie was watching you leave, her arm still slung around your chair.

You tried to ignore the cold, crossing your arms across your chest and heading for home. You wiped at your eyes feeling pathetic that you were actually gonna cry.

“Hey Princess!” You sighed, looking over your shoulder and found Darwin standing a couple of feet away. “You usually never leave a dance until the music stops playing.”

“I don’t feel much like dancin’.” You shrugged, shivering again. He sighed, stepping a little closer and extending his jacket he had in his hand. “It’s fine.”

“Take it, nothing worse than seeing a pretty girl cry. She don’t need to be cold too.” You laughed at his logic, taking his jacket from his outstretched hand. “What’s got you so upset? Thought all your dreams were coming true with how close you two were.”

“She insinuated I wasn’t pretty.” You told him, feeling pathetic. You wiped your tears away again and Darwin rolled his eyes, stepping close enough to pull you into a hug. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It ain’t stupid. You know you’re the prettiest girl in town. That’s why everyone calls you Princess.” He assured you, a soothing hand rubbing your back. “We all got our talents and ain’t no one as pretty as you.”

“I got other talents.” You muttered petulantly and he laughed.

“I know you do. You’re a dab hand at tracking, make the rest of us look stupid. When fall comes you make a great apple pie. And you ain’t never failed to put a smile on someone’s face no matter how bad their day is.” Darwin told you with a squeeze. You looked up at him and pouted.

“Why can’t I like you?” You asked him and he laughed, tossing his head back. “Ellie would never say all that to me. She’s just mean.”

“I wish you could like me too. But it ain’t that simple telling your heart what to do.” He released you with one arm, wrapping the other around your shoulder to guide you home.

“Ain’t that for sure.” You sighed before looking back to where the music was pouring from the Tipsy Bison. “You wanna dance?”

“You tryna get my hopes up?” He asked with a laugh and you shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders. “Thought you weren’t up for dancin’?”

“I ain’t but she doesn’t get to know she hurt me like that. So we should go back and dance. I still ain’t gonna crawl into your bed tonight but we can be friends, can’t we?” You asked and Darwin could only roll his eyes, turning back towards the bar.

“Maybe a couple of the other girls’ll see you in my arm and start paying me some attention.” You looked almost offended and he shrugged. “Ain’t you using me to make her jealous?”

You were and he was right about it. It shouldn’t hurt that he was getting something out of it too so you only nodded at him, taking his hand and leading into the bar.

He paused you in the doorway and lifted his hands up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs running under your eyes. “Don’t let her know she made you cry.”

You smiled up at him as the door pushed open. Jesse looked between you and Darwin and paused in place, jaw dropped.

“I was just coming to check on you.” Jesse muttered and you shrugged as Darwin dropped his hands from your face.

“We were just getting some air.” You told Jesse, pulling Darwin back into the bar by his hand. “Nothing to see here.”

///

The sounds of the forest were better to quiet your mind than any of the weed Eugene managed to bring into Jackson. You stood with your head tilted back towards the sun, letting the breeze cool you.

You could hear the noise of the others as they travelled through the small settlement behind you, killing off the runners you’d been tracking.

You didn’t much get involved in that. It turned your stomach at best and made you violently ill at worse.

You had a gun on your hip that you only ever shot at unmoving targets, keeping your skills sharp but without causing harm. You had seen enough blood to last you a lifetime.

“Bout ready to get saddled up again, Princess.” Joel told you from a little to your left. You turned your head to look at him, lifting a hand to block the sun rays. “You finished sunbathing?”

“Almost, a bloater travelled through here. Couple days ago at most.” You told Joel and he looked around, watching for what you saw. You didn’t share any of the details with him. You didn’t need to be out of a job.

“Got enough time?” Joel asked and you shook your head. He nodded slowly, watching the forest with you. “We’ll come out this way again tomorrow. Plan an overnight patrol.”

“Sounds good to me.” You agreed lightly, listening to the sounds of everyone else saddling back up from a little behind the tree line.

“So, stable boy, huh?” Joel asked and you rolled your eyes. You looked up at Joel, still shielding your eyes before turning and heading back to your horse. “I’m just asking.”

“Well don’t. Darwin and I are friends. He’s nicer than other people I chose to associate with recently.” You told him, pulling yourself up onto your horse without bothering to look back at him. “Maybe it’s time I find good friends.”

“You got good friends and none of them tried to force themselves on you in a dark alley.” Joel reasoned as he pulled himself up onto his horse.

“He wasn’t gonna force himself on me.” You sighed. “He was a little drunk and thought I just needed convincin’. He never set a hand on me. I’m not that ten year old anymore.”

“I know that. You’re a woman now and you make your own decisions. I just wanna make sure you’re making good ones.” You stared at Joel, eyebrows furrowed.

“Joel, I uh, I ain’t tryin’ to be rude. But you aren’t my father.” You told him, bewildered at the sharing he was doing when usually a grunt was all the acknowledging you’d get. “You got Ellie for that.”

“You ain’t ever turned my advice down before.” He shrugged and you shook your head.

“Thanks to your advice I was cryin’ outside the bar last week. You told me to have patience but Joel, I ain’t ever gonna let someone talk to me like that.” You sighed. He didn’t reply and you didn’t much care, urging your horse on ahead.

You spent some time discussing an early patrol tomorrow with Tommy. He’d need to put together a small team for overnight so that you could track that bloater and get rid of it.

You resolutely ignored Joel who’s eyes you could feel burning into your back and kept a similar distance from Jesse who was just confused for all intents and purposes.

You didn’t bother taking time to explain to any of your friends why you were quietly drawing away from them. You didn’t know how to explain what finally tipped you over the edge was a dig that maybe you weren’t as pretty as you thought you were.

You were embarrassed to admit it had knocked your confidence a little. You had always held your looks close to your heart. You were a little vain, you knew as much. Your mama had been the most beautiful woman you had known. She had told you about being a pageant queen and how she had loved looking pretty.

Jesse wouldn’t understand it. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t understand that drive to be worried about how you looked. Dina would laugh at you, of that you were sure. She had always laughed at your need to wear clothes that almost bordered on impractical.

You hadn’t minded before. But now you wondered if maybe you were an outsider. You had been friends with Jesse and Dina way before Ellie had come along but Ellie had slotted in seamlessly to the group. It was a kind of heartbreaking thought that once again you were isolated from everyone else.

On your return to Jackson, Darwin was at the stable, welcoming in the patrol men and taking their horses. You hung around for a while, helping Darwin with brushing the horses and settling them in for the night.

"We'll be heading out again tomorrow." You told him, fighting around a yawn. He looked up from where he was brushing Joel's horse and smiled at you. "Ain't you up for a patrol soon?"

The patrol schedule, like most jobs in Jackson, was rotational. For everyday patrols there was a set schedule and groups who would do them all the time. But the long patrols, the overnight, were a town-wide rotation in which every able-bodied adult took part.

Your momma had said something about jury duty the first time it had come up. You never had a chance to ask her what that had meant.

"Yeah sure, think I'll be in for this one." Darwin nodded, finishing up with the horse and dusting his hands off. He gave you a grin and you rolled your eyes at him, already expecting the stupid joke that followed that particular grin. "You wanna share a sleeping bag?"

"I think I'd rather share it with the bloater we're looking for." You scoffed, tossing his bag at him as you left the stable with him. You cast a look in through the other stables as you both left and found Ellie brushing Shimmer.

She looked over her shoulder at the sound of Darwin chattering and you paused when she called our name. When you paused in place Darwin stopped by your side. Ellie stared between you both, eyes narrowing.

"I'll see you at dinner." You told Darwin with a sigh, resting your arms on the half door of the stable. Ellie watched him walk away before turning to you with a raised eyebrow.

"You heading out tomorrow?" Ellie asked and you nodded, resting your chin on your forearms. She fidgeted with the brush in her hands, barely looking up at you. "Joel says it's a bloater. You ever seen one before?"

"Is this an exam, do I need to get so many questions right before you let me leave?" You asked her and she rolled her eyes, throwing the brush into her bag.

"I was just asking, no need to get your panties in a twist." Ellie scoffed and you huffed, standing up straight. "I can't make conversation with you now? Got your little boyfriend and suddenly you're too good for your friends."

"Like you're a friend? The way that you treat me?" You asked with a scoff and Ellie recoiled as if you had shocked her with something she didn't already know. "You cut me down at every single chance you get and call yourself my friend."

"It was a joke, I can't make a joke?" She asked, almost shouting and you shook your head, running a hand through your hair. "You never had a problem with me making a joke before."

"You never called me ugly before." You muttered and she blinked at you. You stared at her for several seconds as she remained unmoving and sighed. "I never realized you were laughing at me, not with me. It hurt a little."

You left her standing in the stable and wondered how she dared to pretend she hadn't noticed that everything she had said to you wasn't a dig in one way or another.

You had clearly been delusional in thinking that there would ever have been a chance that she was interested in you.

///

The thing about early morning patrols was that most people in the usual patrol group kept it quiet until everyone had fully woken up. By everyone, you meant mostly Eugene and yourself.

Unfortunately, Darwin had chosen this morning to be especially chatty and Ellie was telling Joel a bunch of puns from a tattered book. You leaned forward, your forehead against your horse's mane, and tried to tune it all out before you raised your head again.

"Up late, Princess?" Darwin asked and you groaned, lifting a hand to block out the rising sun from your eyes.

“Dreaming of you, Sweetheart.” You told him before digging your heels in and urging your horse up ahead to Eugene who seemed to be distancing himself from the chatter boxes.

“Damn shame we can’t just tape their mouth shut.” Eugene grunted and you laughed at him, rolling your eyes. “That boy of yours could draw a pack of the biters with a whisper.”

“He ain’t mine.” You laughed and Eugene shook his head, pulling down his sunglasses to look at you. “He’s not my type.”

“The other loud mouth is though.” He pointed out and you sighed heavily, reaching out and attempting to swipe his sunglasses.

“Cmon old man, I know you stole my last pair. I just know it.” You accused and he shook his head with a smirk as he batted your hands away.

“You can’t prove it, Princess. You’ll have to keep a look out for your own.” He told you and you sighed. You were approaching the location you had spotted bloater tracks so you sat up straight and reached back to tie your hair up in a ponytail.

Darwin joined your sides the same filthy grin on his face that you knew a comment was coming. “You know what that does to me, baby.”

“You make me want to vomit.” You replied with a sigh, pulling on your horses reigns and hopping down. Eugene followed you while the others waited back.

“Think it might have fallen off a cliff and died and we can just all go home?” Eugene asked and you rolled your eyes. You followed the signs that lead you to your discovery the other day.

Several of the plants had been squashed in the surrounding area. On several of the trees there was residue from the bloater knocking into them. The terrible echolocation skills allowed you to follow their path pretty easily.

“Dumb motherfucker got me wasting a whole day and night on this shit.” Eugene sighed, watching you follow the path of destruction. He went back for your horses and to gather everyone else.

You took your time, watching the signs and clues. At one point the bloater had just wandered in a circle, trampling a ring of destruction. You figured it was probably chasing an animal or something.

When the others caught up you accepted the reigns of your horse off Eugene and hopped up on her back. The group was much quieter as you followed the trail.

You had been right about one thing. The bloater had been a few days ahead of you. By the time the sun was beginning to set you were still over a day behind it. With the slow speed it travelled you would be well able to catch up the following morning and be home before sundown.

With that news the group made way to the nearest outpost in a small farm house. The horses were set up in the barn, Darwin offering to do his duty by settling them all in.

The rest of you trailed into the farmhouse.

Joel lit a fire while everyone set up their space for the night. You and Eugene played rock paper scissors for the sofa and he laughed when you lost, setting your sleeping bag up on the floor.

He then lost to Joel who disputed his claim only for him to offer the sofa to Ellie which made you and Eugene roll your eyes.

You hung a pot over the fire, unpacking a few tins of food. While you waited you dug your fists into the bottom of your back, trying to ease the pain taking residence there.

“I got somethin’ for that!” Eugene called and you only laughed at him. You had no doubt he had an arsenal of ‘stuff’. “You young people shouldn’t be hurting’ like you’re eighty.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.” Joel clapped Eugene on the shoulder in passing.

///

Mostly everyone was sleeping. Eugene was starfished by the fire, his massive form almost blocking the light from it. Ellie was curled up on the sofa, her hand resting down the side, almost touching Joel who was sleeping next to her, still as a corpse. Darwin was closest to where you had set up, almost completely covered by his sleeping bag, only the top of his head peeking out.

You were sat up, turning your gun over in your hand. It was your turn to keep watch and you had sat yourself up on a counter in the kitchen to do so. The floor was open plan so you could still see everyone while keeping an eye on things outside.

The heat of the evening was getting to you and so you took a second to pad outside, wincing at the creak of the screen door. There was a bench on the porch and you lowered yourself into it.

The night was silent, the only sound from the slight rustle of the leaves in the gentle breeze. There was just over half a moon, a natural source of light allowing you to see the trees of the forest.

In times like this it was easy to forget why you were out here. You had never known a life before the outbreak but your momma had told you stories about how she had lived.

You wanted to experience a peagant and see her in all her glory. You wanted a prom and Friday night football games. You wanted to know what it had all been about.

Most of all you wanted your momma. She’d probably be able to comfort you in getting over Ellie. She always was able to calm you down even when the two of you were living through hell.

That was if she was okay with you liking girls. You had never had a chance to tell her about how you felt. She had died well before you had accepted it.

Cancer.

The world ended and zombies took over but cancer was what killed her in the end. Without chemo there was nothing the doctors in Jackson could do.

The people of Jackson had been good to you. You had lived in a boarding house until you were eighteen and then gave you back your momma’s house.

The screen door creaked and you looked up when Darwin stepped out. He didn’t speak and so neither did you, letting him take his place beside you.

“Hard to sleep when we ain’t at home.” He told you after a little while and you nodded in agreement, still watching the forest. “You okay?”

“Just thinkin’ about Momma.” You told him honestly. “I been missin’ her.”

“She’d be real proud of you.” He told you with a cut off laugh. “I remember her. She was real pretty and real nice. Used to help my mom set her hair in rollers on special occasions.”

“She didn’t want beauty to die.” You told him and he nodded. Everyone knew that about her. Some people had thought her vain. But in her eyes it was her culture, her history. Her momma had been the same and even her momma before that.

“As long as you’re alive beauty is sure to be.” Darwin smiled at you and you smiled back, tipping your head to lay on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and together you watched the forest.

It was tipping into Darwin’s watch time before he spoke again, calling your name softly to see if you were awake. You hummed sleepily and he chuckled.

“We could’ve been so easy, you know?” He asked, sighing wistfully. You sat up as if you had been scolded and he reached for your hand in apology. “I know, you don’t like men. But if you did it would be easy.”

“Yeah. I’ve always known, you know?” You asked him, laughing humorlessly. “I didn’t get crushes on boys so I just ignored it. And then I met Ellie.”

“Did you ever even try?” Darwin asked, pulling back to look at you. “Did you just write all men off?”

“I didn’t need to try. I knew.” You didn’t like the accusation in his tone and so you leaned back away from him. He released your hand to run a hand through his hair. “I’ve always known.”

“You can’t know something like that.” You opened your mouth to argue with him and he pressed forward, his hand tangling in your hair and holding you in place. He forced himself on you, kissing you so hard your teeth bruised your lips and you gasped.

His tongue invaded your mouth while his hands pawed at your chest. You struggled to push away from him but he was stronger than you. The only sound was the click of your safety, the gun against his stomach.

He froze, not releasing you entirely but pulling his lips back from yours. “What are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me. Right now.” You warned, your voice shaky. He raised both hands, pulling away slowly from you. “If you ever touch me again I-”

“You won’t use that gun, sweetheart.” Even with his hands raised he was cocky about it and you knew he was right. You didn’t shoot infected never mind living people.

“I won’t have to. Joel is plenty fond of using his.” You warned standing up and walking back towards the screen door. He didn’t follow you inside and you paused inside the door.

Eugene and Joel were unmoved. Ellie had rolled over to face the back of the sofa but she was still. You took a moment to gather yourself, wiping the tears off your face.

Your hands were shaking as you returned to your bed roll, pulling it closer to Joel. You pulled the blanket up over your head and tried not to shake with your sobs, freezing when the creak of the screen door signaled Darwin’s return inside.

///

“You okay there, Princess?” Eugene asked quietly. The other three had pulled ahead, the early morning chatter driving you and him a few meters back. When you didn’t answer Eugene tried again. “Princess, you with me?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, shaking your head and then looking back to him. “I was in my own world. Sorry.”

“Hope it’s damn better than this one.” He sighed and you huffed a laugh before sighing yourself. Ellie and Joel were chatting up the front. Darwin interjected every once in a while but Ellie seemed to be trying to exclude him.

Your eyes were dry from crying and the headache you had wasn’t aided by the sun that was beating down on top of you. Your stomach turned every time Darwin looked back at you.

You wanted to scream at him to stop looking at you. You wanted to tell Joel and Eugene what he had done to you so that they could leave his body in the woods. You wanted to dig your heels in to your horse and gallop into the woods where no one would ever touch you again.

Instead you clutched the reins so your hand wouldn’t shake and you nudged your horse into speeding up to take the lead before Joel could call you.

You were closer to the bloater, somewhere within an hour of its stumbling steps. It was traveling in a wide arc and with time it would return to Jackson’s area. It made the trip worth it. For everyone but you it seemed.

It took less than fifteen minutes for you to land on the bloaters tail. There was scraps of what counted as flesh on the trees, trampled plants and a lack of nature sounds in the area.

When the horses grew too loud you left them back, tying their reins to the trees. Eugene took the lead with Joel following up on the end of the group. The bloater was easy tracked from here.

Eugene had his shotgun loaded and Joel had his rifle. Ellie was using her pistol but she had a Molotov cocktail to get things started. You held your pistol in your grip and hoped you wouldn’t need it. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Darwin and ensure he had a loaded gun.

The bloater was trying to navigate the forest and found difficulty in getting past the dense trees. Every couple of feet it stumbled and almost knocked itself over.

It was pathetic to watch but you knew once the first shot was taken it would no longer be this stumbling mess but an evolved killing machine.

Joel lifted a hand and pointed at Ellie to stay. Eugene and him circled around until the bloater was unknowingly surrounded. Darwin took post beside Ellie and you stood back, pistol raised and hands shaking.

With a nod Ellie threw the Molotov which burst at the bloaters feet. The infected screeched and roared when Ellie followed with two shots from her pistol.

Eugene raised his shotgun as you looked around. A shot went off followed by Joel’s rifle and the bloater hit the ground. You were still looking around, following imprints in the ground. There was a second pair of bare feet, much smaller than the bloater. You had missed them.

You turned to warn everyone, all of them gathered by the bloater. Just behind Ellie a stalker approached. You didn’t have time to warn them when two shots sounded. The stalkers body dropped and so did you.

Your knees buckled from under you landing you in the dead leaves and branches on the ground. You had dropped your gun, hands over your ears trying to block out the sound.

Joel was checking over Ellie who had barely moved despite how close your bullets had come to her head. She was staring at the stalker, two bullets lodged in its head.

Darwin got to you first and reached for you but you scrambled away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

You reached for your gun again and pointed it at him catching Joel and Eugene’s attention as Darwin raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

You knew you were sobbing, your hands shaking violently. Joel and Eugene were talking to you and you knew you should listen but you couldn’t. You had shot someone. You had shot someone to save Ellie. An infected, sure. But it had been someone once.

“Hey there, Princess.” Her voice broke the quiet. “I’m gonna take that from you. I ain’t a fan of Darwin either but we can’t shoot him.”

She reached out and hit the safety on your gun before removing it from your shaking hands. You looked from Darwin to her and she shushed you when you tried to speak. “That’s okay, I just don’t wanna muck out the stalls if he’s dead.”

“I shot someone.” You whispered and Ellie shook her head. You could still see the body of the stalker so you nodded. “I did. I killed someone.”

“You saved my life, that’s what you did. You saved me.” Ellie told you and you blinked, focusing on her face. “You did your job and tracked the bloater and then you tracked the stalker. You saved my life, Princess.”

“I should’ve, I couldn’t-”

“Shh, that’s okay. Why don’t we head on home?” Ellie asked, helping you up off the ground. “Get some warm food and a decent bed to make up for last night. You okay to ride?”

“I can share with her.” Darwin reached out and you flinched away into Ellie. “It’s okay, Princess. It’s just me.”

“Don’t let him touch me.” You begged Ellie quietly. “Please don’t let him touch me.”

Ellie kept one arm around you as she guided you to the horses. She was talking to you quietly but all you could see was your shaking hands. The hands of a murderer.

“Time to get on up. You can share with me, okay?” Ellie asked. On autopilot you climbed up onto Shimmer and shifted forward when the press of Ellie warmed against your back.

“You and I are gonna talk when we get home.” Joel muttered in the background and you released a breath. Joel would protect you just like always.

///

You were in your bed. You didn’t know how you had gotten there. You were also in pyjamas. You didn’t remember putting them on. You felt off balance and shaky as you swung your legs over the edge of your bed.

The light behind your curtains told you it was midday but the last thing you remembered was closing in on the bloater with the others. When you staggered to your feet it came back to you slowly.

The stalker. You had shot it. Darwin’s hands reaching for you. Ellie and her calming voice trying to soothe you on the ride back to Jackson.

You opened your bedroom door and listened closely for voices. You and Dina lived together in your mommas old house. It wasn’t so much an offer you had made but a decision Maria had. Housing was better used for families than one single person and so Dina had joined you when her family were gone.

When you reached the living room Ellie was asleep on the sofa which surprised you. She had said something about beds. You could remember that much.

You wiped your eyes tiredly and fought a yawn as you stepped into the living room. She hadn’t changed her clothes or even gone home. Her pack was by the top of the sofa. You nudged one of her legs and her eyes opened slowly.

She sniffled a bit, a hand running over her face. When she blinked and looked up she saw you and rushed to sit up on the sofa. “You’re awake!”

“Just barely. What are you doing here?” You asked, confused. Ellie’s eyes tracked the length of your body and you folded your arms across your chest. Your pajamas weren’t the most attractive attire. “How did I get here?”

“I brought you home.” Ellie explained, patting the space beside her. You took a seat but left more distance than she had intended between you both. “You were sort of out of it for a while.”

“Yeah, that’s happens sometimes.” You muttered and looked down at your hands. “Did you put me to bed?”

“No. That was all Dina. I’ve been down here the whole time, I swear.” You nodded at her words and yawned again. Ellie didn’t say anything and you had nothing to say so you leaned back on the sofa and pulled your legs up under you.

You almost drifted off again when Ellie cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her but she was staring down at her hands instead of meeting your eyes. “Darwin told us what happened.”

“Did he now?” You asked. Your hands tightened into fists so that they wouldn’t shake and you turned your face away from her to hide your expression. “I’m sure it was very informative.”

“He told us he kissed you.” Ellie sighed and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, Joel didn’t believe that story. So he asked him again, a little more forceful.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what else to say to that. You didn’t like the thought of people getting hurt but Darwin hadn’t cared about hurting you. “Is Joel gonna be in trouble?”

“No. Darwin isn’t going to talk to anyone about what happened.” Ellie assured you and you nodded slowly, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Wasn’t you, was it?” You asked quietly. You fixed your gaze on the wall and picked at the skin around your nails. “Why haven’t you gone home?”

“Because I wanted to make sure that you were okay. And I wanted to apologise because I seen him do it. I saw him kiss you and I turned around and went back to bed.” You continued to stare at the wall and didn’t even try to fight the tears that welled in your eyes. “I didn’t know what it was. I heard arguing and I was just checking on you both. When I looked out you were kissing.”

You tried to fight it. The lump in your throat. Ellie was desperate to explain to you and you knew it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known. But she should’ve known something hadn’t been right.

You sniffed and wiped at your face, flinching away from her hand when she reached for you. You blinked and more tears fell. “You guys were the first. You, Jesse and Dina. I hadn’t even admitted to myself really.”

You sniffed again and wiped under your nose with your sleeve. You probably looked a mess right now but for the first time in your life you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “I uh- I never told my Momma. I didn’t know how she’d feel, always wanted me to find a husband. Give her grandbabies.”

“I told Darwin that I ignored it. That I always knew but I pushed it down.” Ellie stayed silent as you swallowed past the lump in you throat, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeves. It took you a couple of seconds to get talking again and Ellie stared at her lap, picking her nails. “I told him it was you that helped me realize it. That helped me be confident enough to come out.”

Ellie opened her mouth but you only shook your head, raising you hand to stop her. Your hand was shaking and you clenched it into a fist letting it drop back down into your lap. “I’ve had people tell me I’m too pretty to be gay. I trusted you all to believe me.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Ellie asked in shock and you sniffed again shaking your head. You scrubbed your hand over your face and swallowed past the recurring lump. “That’s what it fucking sounds like.”

“It’s no one faults but Darwin. He shouldn’t have done what he did but didn’t you question it for a second?” You asked her desperately. “Wasn’t there some part of you that wondered why I would do that with him. A man who has a history of being a little too forceful with his come ons?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you hadn’t changed your mind? You always flirt with him! You were dancing together and you get dinner!” Ellie was yelling now but you didn’t have it in you to yell back. You were so drained of energy. “The short fucking skirts and tight jeans? Your tits are out most of the damn time.”

Ellie covered her mouth when your head snapped to look at her. Your jaw had dropped and your eyes widened as he words sunk in. “So it’s my fault?”

“No- that’s not what I’m-” Ellie stuttered out a half response and you stared at her. Waiting for something different. Waiting for her to explain it.

“You gave me the confidence to come out. To be myself and dress how I like. To not care about people thinking I’m too pretty to be gay. And everyday since you’ve chipped away at that confidence. You can have it all. Just get out of my house.” You spoke evenly but your voice cracked at the end and you swallowed. “Don’t come back. I don’t care if it’s to see Dina, I don’t care if the house is on fire, I don’t care if the walls of Jackson fall down. Just don’t come back.”

“Princess, please-”

“Get the fuck out! Get out now!” You screamed at her and she raised her hands in defense, heading for the door. You watched her leave before curling up on the sofa and crying yourself back to a fitful sleep.

///

“You okay?” You nodded at Dina as you grabbed your bag off the chair in the kitchen. She held out a mug and you sipped at it between attempts to slip into your boots. “New jeans?”

“Don’t.” You hadn’t talked about any of it you didn’t tell her why you argued with Ellie, why she couldn’t come around anymore. You didn’t give any excuse other than the colder weather for the reason you were covered in layers. “I’ve got an early patrol. I’ll make dinner.”

Dina watched you tie your hair back into a loose ponytail at the base of your skull. It hadn’t been curled since that disastrous patrol. Your face was usually free of make up now and Dina finally understood what you had tried to explain.

The beauty was half of who you were. Your sunny disposition was the other half. Without you putting effort into either halves you were just a shell, pushing through each day.

“I’m off today. I can make dinner. We can have some people over. Jesse, maybe Joel and Ellie?” Dina offered and you looked up from your mug, eyes narrowed. “Or not Ellie?”

“I don’t want her in the house, Dina.” You warned her, checking your gun was loaded before tucking it into the holster by your hip. “It’s non-negotiable.”

“If you would just tell me why I could help.” Dina insisted. She stopped in front of you and reached for your arms. You flinched away from her. “You went on patrol and you came back different. Eugene says you shot a stalker and it shook you? Why is Ellie the bad guy?”

“God, Dina! No one is the bad guy, okay?” You snapped, pulling away from her further, taking steps backwards. “It was time I got my priorities in order.”

Dina couldn’t reply before you turned on your heel and left the house, the door slamming behind you. She sighed and watched out the window as you headed for the stables.

Eugene was waiting for you when you arrived, tossing a pair of sunglasses at you. You almost fumbled, catching them at the last second. “Time you stop complaining, ain’t it?”

“Where’d you find ‘em?” You asked, sliding them on against the sunshine. You grinned and Eugene and he smiled back, leading you toward the two prepared horses.

“I didn’t. Someone passed them along for you.” Your grin dropped. You knew what that was code for. You busted a boot a week ago, a new pair waited on the porch in the days that followed. Now there was sunglasses while you were heading out on patrol.

“She should mind her own business.” You didn’t take the sunglasses off though. You needed them and they were a rarity these days. You pulled yourself up onto your horse, patting Henry on his neck as you headed for the gates.

“Think she feels bad. Don’t know why, ain’t her fault. Ain’t anyones fault. Accidents happen on a patrol, you shot the stalker. Everyone survived.” Eugene muttered waving the guards of the gate off. You nodded at Jesse when he shouted his goodbye.

“It’s a more personal issue.” You explained and Eugene nodded. You didn’t elaborate further and let him draw his own conclusions.

The patrol went easy, it was more a chance to enjoy the sun while riding through the forest. At the last outpost Eugene pulled his horse to a stop and you copied him, lifting your sunglasses to watch him.

“I told them we’d be late back. That we’d have a stop to make.” He offered you a grin and you took him up on that grin, turning your horse to where you knew he wanted to go.

///

You tossed yourself down on the sofa hand extended towards Eugene. He only laughed at you but he did in fact hand over the joint. You inhaled deeply from it and coughed a little.

“Doing God’s work, you know that?” You asked him with a sigh, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling above you.

“Feel like if anyone could do with some relaxin’ then it’d be you.” Eugene sat back on a stool, his own joint between his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head, Princess.”

“It’s fucking stupid.” You sighed before inhaling again. You counted the cracks in the ceilings before throwing your arm over your eyes. “Darwin crossed a line. A big line.”

“Explained Joel near breaking his nose.” Eugene replied. You hadn’t seen Darwin in the month or so since that patrol but the rumors had reached you that he had returned with a bloody and bruised nose. “He hurt you?”

“He kissed me. Tried to prove some point that I didn’t like men cause I hadn’t tried them.” You explained and Eugene scoffed.

“I ain’t tried men and I sure as shit know I don’t like ‘em. Why would anyone want a man when there’s women?” Eugene asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, nodding in agreement. You inhaled again from the joint and lifted your arm to look at Eugene.

“Ellie, well she, I mean. You know how I felt about her, right?” You asked and Eugene only rolled his eyes releasing a puff of smoke. “I mean everyone knew how I felt. I loved her, I think.”

“Yeah, you’d have to be blind not to see it. That past tense is throwing me off though.” Eugene admitted. “What’s caused that?”

“Well she, I mean she saw it right? And she just thought I was kissin’ him. But she knew. Knew I didn’t like men. But she just went back to sleep. Now I ain’t blamin’ her. I ain’t. But why would she do that?” You asked Eugene. “I was just sitting there and he was holding me so I couldn’t pull away. She didn’t even try.”

“Sounds a lot like blame to me.” Eugene huffed and you frowned at him. “Probably sounded like it to Ellie too.”

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming Darwin. He’s the one who did it, he’s the one who hurt me.” You argued. “But she didn’t even second guess it.”

“You’re embarrassed. You never let Ellie see you anywhere less than perfect. Suddenly she sees you at the lowest you’ve ever been and you can’t cope with the embarrassment of that.” Eugene ran his fingers through his beard.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?” You asked in shock, sitting up on the couch. “You got a psychology degree or some shit?”

“I got life experience.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You can’t blame Ellie for Darwin’s actions.”

“I can blame her for her reaction. She said it was my fault, that I led him on. The way I acted and the way I dressed. Like I was asking for it.” You told him with a huff, inhaling one last time. “I shouldn’t have to dress a certain way to be safe.”

“No. You shouldn’t. But we also shouldn’t be stuck on this doomed rock fighting fucking monsters. Things aren’t always as they should be.” He sighed and you pouted at him. “Wearing the clothes you do makes you a target. Now it shouldn’t but it does. Being nice to Darwin though, that’s not leading him on. You were just tryna be his friend.”

“So now I have to dress like this all my life so men don’t think they got a right to me? I gotta forget what my momma thought me? Stop being pretty?” You asked and Eugene shrugged. “I don’t want to do that.”

“You already did. You don’t do your hair or makeup anymore. You’re wearing baggy clothes now.” Eugene pointed out and you sighed. He wasn’t wrong. “The thing is though. You’re still pretty. You’re beauty wasn’t cause a some powder or some curls. Your beauty comes from being the sweet girl you are.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Blame the weed.”

///

“I’ve got a present.” You could still feel the effects of the joint, partly responsible for your good mood when you stepped inside. You kicked off your boots and dropped your bag, passing the living room and heading for the kitchen only to pause and take two steps back.

Ellie was sitting on your sofa. Alone.

“Where’s Dina?” You asked quietly and Ellie shrugged, her lips pursed. “Thought I told you not to come around no more.”

“Dina said you changed your mind. To wait for you to get home so we could talk.” Ellie pushed herself up off the sofa. "But I'm guessing that's not true because it's not the kind of conversation to be had while high."

"Obviously it's not true. Didn't realize I'm not allowed to smoke. Guess I can't be pretty or fun anymore." You scoffed, shaking your head. "For someone who doesn't want to date me, you sure have a lot of expectations."

"I didn't say you couldn't be fun. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was wrong for that." Ellie sighed. "But I never said I didn't want to date you."

"Ellie, it might have taken me a while but I'm not an idiot. I get all dressed up so you'll look at me. I curl my hair hoping you'd run your fingers through it. I wear lipstick hoping I'll smudge it against your lips. I loved you and you never even looked at me twice." You sighed and stepped closer to Ellie. "You made me doubt my worth."

"Why would I need to look twice?" Ellie asked, a disbelieving laugh on her lips. She stepped closer to you, tilting her head and looking you over from head to toe. "I never looked away the first time."

"Oh."

Oh.

You swallowed nervously when she stepped closer, her hand landing on your hip softly to pull you the final step closer. You looked down at her hand and back up to her eyes. She was watching you, watching your reaction.

"I was trying to be better. Men look at you like they own you. People treat your beauty like it's theirs to take. I wanted to be better." She explained, barely a whisper. "I wanted you to know I liked you despite how tight your jeans were and how short your skirts were."

"How noble of you." You tried for sarcasm but it fell flat. "You could've just explained."

"I could've. Every time I tried I just sounded like an asshole." She shrugged and you swallowed, your mouth and throat dry. She was leaning in when you stepped back.

"I'm high. We shouldn't kiss like this." You whispered and Ellie nodded. She lifted a hand, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a small smile. "But I do wanna kiss you."

"How about you come find me when you're sober then?" She asked and you nodded, leaning into her hand. "We'll see about smudging some of that lipstick."

///

"Heading out, don't know when I'll be back." You yelled, hopping around to pull your boots on at the front door. You weren't quick enough and Dina leaned against the frame of the living room door, looking you over.

"You look hot," Dina observed and you nodded, fixing your hair in the mirror by the door. "Where are you headed?"

"Momma wouldn't ask me that, bless her soul." You huffed a laugh and swung your bag over your shoulder. "You and Jesse have manners while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"You didn't answer the question!" Dina yelled and you opened the door, turning to look at her over your shoulder. "Where're you going?"

"Out, don't wait up, Mom." You called hurrying down the porch steps and getting away from her invasive questions. She knew where you were going. She had to. Ellie had been allowed back into the house and the pair of you were dancing around each other all week.

Ellie opened the garage door the second you knocked and you smiled brightly at her as you passed by her to get inside. You had been in Ellie's garage more times than you could count but you had never seen it so tidy.

"You clean up just for me?" You asked her as you dropped your bag by the end of her sofa. She rolled her eyes and shut the door but you could see the blush on her cheeks. She was embarrassed and it was oddly sweet.

"You dress up just for me?" Ellie asked, eyebrows raised. You on the other hand were prepared for her question. You nodded and held your arms out, a slow twirl just for her. You had no doubt she was getting the best view. "Damn, Princess.”

“It’s nice to have you appreciating me for once.” You hummed, finishing your twirl and leaning back against the arm of her sofa. “Make sure you get a good look.”

“For once?” She asked as she stepped away from the door and towards you. You only pursed your lips to hide your smile. “I once fell off Shimmer cause I was too busy staring at your ass.”

“You said your stirrup snapped!” You laughed in delight. She only rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. You spread your legs so that she could stand between them. “Tell me more.”

“That black eye I had two months back?” She asked and you nodded. “The door of the diner swung back and hit me because you had that tied off blouse on.”

“You liked that one?” You asked with a grin and she nodded, her hand coming to rest on the bare skin on your waist between your shorts and your top. “What about this one?”

It was a ribbed camisole that you had tucked up to leave your navel on display. Ellie took care to run her thumb under the fabric of it and let her hand slide from your waist across your stomach. She tapped her finger on the button of your shorts.

“Embroider these yourself?” She asked and you nodded in excitement, your fingers tracing down over the star embroidery.

“My momma thought me. And I have this book that helps with anything she didn’t get to teach me. It’s actually not so bad. And it’s a real constellation its-”

“Cassiopeia.” Ellie finished for you, her fingers following your path and tracing the familiar constellation. “I had a bit of a space thing for a while. Wanted to be an astronaut.”

“My momma found this Barbie doll for me once. It was Astronaut Barbie. She had this pink suit and she was so pretty and I knew if she was pretty and smart then I could be too.” Your voice grew quiet at the end and Ellie laughed, her crooked finger lifting your chin.

“That’s real cute, baby.” She teased and you chewed on your bottom lip. “So now you’re the prettiest girl in Jackson and the best damn tracker I’ve ever seen.”

“Prettiest girl?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. Ellie rolled her eyes and instead of giving in to you fishing for compliments she leaned in and kissed you.

It was only a sweet press of lips, innocent compared to what you had expected. Ellie pulled away only to press a trail of kisses down to your jaw and then followed the bone up to your ear.

“Now we can do one of two things.” She whispered, her teeth nipping at your ear lobe. “We can put on a movie, cuddle under a blanket and make out.”

“What’s my other option?” You asked, your breath hitching as she kissed down the side of your neck. Still just innocent pressed of her lips.

“I take off these pretty little shorts and I fuck you dumb.” Your whole body trembled as she spoke against your collar bone. “Oh you like that idea.”

///

“Please, please.” You’re sobbing at this point, your fingers tangled in Ellie’s hair. She’s been eating you out to the point of two orgasms and she’s only just pushing a finger into you now. “Ellie, please.”

“Please what?” Ellie asks innocently. You look down at her, releasing your death grip of her hair and she looks up at you. Her chin is shiny with you and she licks her lips as you watch. Your head thumps back against her pillows. “Use your words, I haven’t fucked you yet. You can’t be this dumb just from my finger and tongue.”

“Fuck me.” You moaned as she added a second finger. “Need you to fuck me.”

Ellie, never being one to be unprepared, had surprised you. While getting undressed you had found Ellie wearing a strap and it had sped up the whole process of getting clothes off.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re ready for my cock, baby.” She hums and you groan, your pussy tightening around her fingers. “Maybe another finger?”

“Ellie, babe, your cock, please. Please.” You were crying actual tears and begging without shame for her. You had wanted it in your since you had found it on her and you were so frustrated you had resorted to tears.

“Oh there’s my big dumb baby.” Ellie teased, withdrawing her fingers. You looked down at her and she was spreading your slick over the head of her cock. “Awh, is my baby crying? Your pussy so needy for my cock that it brought you to tears, huh?”

You could only nod, sniffling. She took your chin between her thumb and finger and tilted your head down so you could watch her cock press into you. “Fucking yes!”

“That feel good?” Ellie asked and you sobbed, pushing down against her slow place. “You gonna fuck yourself on my dick baby? Gonna do all the work?”

“Please. I can. I can ride you.” You offered but Ellie only shook her head.

“Not the first time. I’m gonna fuck you just like this for the first time. Then I’m gonna fuck you in every position you can contort this pretty body into. It’s gonna be a long night baby.” Ellie warned and your eyes rolled back in your head as your third orgasm overtook you.

///

Ellie was lying on her back, one arm behind her head and the other wrapped around you where you lay on her shoulder. She was tracing patterns against your spine and you were trying to guess the patterns but your brain was floating way above your body.

“I like when you dress up. I like how confident you are and how bright you smile when I like what you’re wearing.” Ellie told you quietly. “But like this? Sleepy and a mess. Well I just know I fell in love with that version of you, the morning we argued.”

“Fell in love?” You asked her, your thoughts coming back down to earth. You looked up at her, a slight tilt of your head but she didn’t look at you. “You’re in love with me?”

“How couldn’t I be, baby? A sweet little dumb baby in bed and smart, gorgeous woman who’s a force unto her own out on the streets of Jackson. You don’t make it hard to love you.” She promised, pushing you hair behind your ear.

“You already know I love you too. Even if you do bully me in bed.” You giggled and she grinned at you. “It’s kind of hot actually.”

“Hmm, we’ll explore that another time, get some sleep.” She whispered, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[redrose10]

Here is chapter 1! I hope you like it. Chapter 2 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,693

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

The weather outside did not match the feeling in the conference room. Outside the window you saw the bright sunny sky, not a cloud in sight. You longed for the warmth to touch your skin. Inside this room you felt cold. The walls were a dark cherry mahogany. A marble sculpture of a horse sat in the corner. You’re sure it cost more than a years worth salary for you. You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you developed at some point. Everyone was patiently waiting for the same person to arrive so you could finally get this over with. Never would you have imagined you’d be in a position like this. Being married off to a man you’d never met. You knew of him of course. Who didn’t? Min Yoongi was the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. He was the sole heir to a large fortune being that the Min family was one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in all of Asia. He was dangerously handsome with an arrogant attitude. A womanizer who was constantly in the media and not in a positive way. Just a few months ago we was caught on camera being tossed out of a club for punching the bartender. The video showed him staggering around so drunk he could barely stand straight. He shouted some choice words before shoving three random women into the back of his Rolls Royce and having the driver speed off. Of course the poor bartender didn’t even file any charges knowing he’d never win against the Min family power and money.

Shareholders started worrying about Yoongi’s ability to lead the company, some even demanding he step down. People were uncertain if they should invest in a company run by a sloppy drunk with clear emotional baggage. Stocks in Min Enterprises began to plummet which meant the Min family money started to dwindle and only then did they decide it was time to step in. Which is how you ended up here, sitting across from Yoongi’s parents and some of the other higher ranking officials at Min Enterprises. They had come to the conclusion that it was time for Yoongi to settle down. He needed to find a nice wholesome woman who could help him clean up his image, turn his life around, maybe have a future heir and turn himself into a well respected family man. The problem with that was that Yoongi had never lasted more than a couple weeks with any woman since he was about 19. Often going for quick hookups with women he met at clubs or random models he got ahold of that just wanted to use his name to further their career. In his mind it was easier. No strings attached. No chance of falling in love. No heartbreak. Just sex and send them on their way.

You were a simple girl. You didn’t come from money or power. You loved flowers, blue hydrangeas were your favorite. You often enjoyed a mug of warm milk before bed or maybe some chamomile tea if you were feeling adventurous. Most of your clothes were thrifted and definitely not name brands. You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend and less than four flings. You were the exact opposite of Yoongi and the women you often saw him photographed with.

Which is exactly why the Min family thought you were the perfect match to save their wayward son and bring a good reputation back to the Min name. You had no one else to thank but your old college roommate and best friend Jimin. After graduation he moved away but you kept in touch with each other. One day you get a voicemail from your friend asking you to come visit him in Korea. After calling him back and him assuring you the trip was all expenses paid by himself you agreed. Little did you know of the secret motive. Jimin had moved to Seoul after graduation, quickly getting a job at Min Enterprises. He started as just an assistant to Yoongi’s assistant. Over time Jimin was able to work his way up and was now a member of the board of directors and one of Yoongi’s best friends. When Jimin heard of the Min family plan he immediately thought of you and threw your name into the contenders ring as a potential suitor for Yoongi. You had recently complained about wanting to get out of your small town and Jimin recalled several instances where you mentioned your ever failing love life and non existent bank account so what better way to get around that than to marry a handsome young billionaire.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up you were greeted by the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, one of the Min family lawyers. “Can we be expecting Yoongi any time today?”, he asked probably more sarcastically than he had planned. As the elder Mr. Min started reaching for his phone the large double doors swung open and swiftly slammed shut as the man you were all waiting for stomped over and took his seat next to you, clearly agitated at having to be there.

You knew that Yoongi was handsome, most of the world knew that, but seeing him in person was different than any photos you’d ever seen. Soft perfect skin, piercing cat like eyes, silky jet black hair that he had started to let grow out. He was wearing a fitted dark green suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. His cologne intoxicating, a mix of cinnamon and vanilla. He smelled like comfort and warmth.

When he realized you were staring at him he looked over at you turning to a face of disgust before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the lawyer, “Jin, can we get this over with? I have more important events to attend to.” You watched the lawyer lay out several sheets of paper in front of the two of you. “Right so these are the basics of the contract. It’s pretty standard. The Min family will release an official statement announcing the marriage of their only son Yoongi and Miss Y/N. The wedding will take place shortly after.” You watched as Jin turned to you placing an additional paper down in front of you and pointing to the stipulations as he read them off, “Y/N you will take the Min last name. You will move into Yoongi’s penthouse. You will agree to attend all social and/or professional functions with Yoongi and occasionally you will have to go alone as the Min representative. You will be given a credit card to make any and all purchases for any thing you need or want. And lastly you will uphold a satisfactory image as to not taint the Min image. Also please be aware that a divorce is not an option and the contract will only become nullified in the event that either Yoongi or Y/N were to pass away leaving the other as a widow.” You nodded in understanding while staring down at the list of demands in front of you. Things could be worse you thought but this still wasn’t ideal, especially not having the option for a divorce.

Jin turned his attention over to Yoongi placing a similar paper down in front of him and going over his stipulations which were much simpler than yours, basically don’t get caught with other women and don’t get drunk in public. You scoffed knowing that he would struggle to uphold his end of the contract. You were blindsided though when Jin read off the final stipulation, “After the wedding Yoongi will make an initial donation in his and Y/N’s name in the amount of $5 million US dollars to ‘Little Rays of Sunshine Orphanage’ in Y/N’s hometown. Then he will make an additional $1 million donation every year thereafter for the duration of the marriage.” Your lips turned up into a small smile. You had jokingly told Jimin that you’d agree to this whole ordeal if Yoongi donated a large amount of money to the orphanage that you grew up in. You didn’t think he’d actually get it done but you were a little relieved knowing that at least going through with this was going to benefit many children in need. You made a mental note to thank Jimin later. Deep in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed how Yoongi had looked over at you with furrowed brows questioning that request.

Jin placed a pen down in front of you before clapping his hands together, “Alright now that that’s out of the way the two of you just need to sign and date here and here and we can all go on with our day.” Trying your best to hide your shaking hand you gently grasped the ivory pen taking a deep breath before signing away your life to this man you met less than 15 minutes ago. Handing the pen over to Yoongi he glared at you before releasing a loud sigh and roughly taking the pen from your grasp signing away his name. Once it was done Mrs. Min began to speak but was cutoff by Yoongi loudly pushing his chair back and slamming the pen down on the glass table, “I have places to be.” And with that he stormed out of the room loudly slamming the door behind him. Mr. And Mrs. Min along with the rest of the elders followed not long after giving you a nod goodbye. You looked up to Jin who gave you an apologetic smile. He patted your hand as he continued to pack up his belongings, “He’ll come around Y/N. Just give it some time. He puts on a tough act but underneath that harsh exterior is really a sweet kid who got lost along the way.” Going into this you thought maybe this could actually work out and the two of you could at the very least pretend to love each other. Now, after meeting for the first time, you’re not so sure.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii can u please write an emily x reader fic where emily sees readers sh scars for the first time? and kisses them or smt? if not don’t worry :))

Of course! :) Thanks so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Tracing You

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past self-harm, mental illness, trauma, implied sexual assault/abuse (nothing graphic though!), mentions of afab body parts, discussions of sex Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Emily have been dating for over a month, and you've still haven't let her get to second base. You're scared she'll see your self-harm scars and run for the hills. But, eventually, you'll have to expose them.

You knew it was coming. You always knew, and you always hated it, hated to cut everything short.

Emily was kissing you hard, passionately, as you both lounged on her couch, and you kissed her back. The movie you’d started earlier was long-forgotten. You loved kissing Emily. You could kiss her forever. You loved the way she pushed her body into yours until she was nearly on top of you, as if she physically couldn’t stand to be apart from you–even one centimeter apart. You loved the way she snuck her tongue into your mouth, somehow gentle and rough at the same time. You loved how her fingers felt against your flushed skin–cool and electric. The way she smiled into you. She gave you butterflies.

But you also knew that any minute now, she’d pull up on your shirt, as if asking for permission. You knew that her hands would sneak a little higher up on your torso, and she’d watch you to make sure you were okay. And you knew that, just like you always did, you’d gently push her hands back down, gently tug your shirt back into place, and continue kissing her like nothing had happened.

But that was the problem–nothing had happened. Nothing would happen because you couldn’t bear to let Emily see what was under your shirt. It wasn’t that you were modest, that you had a hard time with sex. What you had a hard time with were the scars that dotted your breasts like a galaxy, scars that even the best of sports bras couldn’t hide entirely. You wanted Emily and, god knows, she wanted you. But you just knew that she’d see them–see those red streaks painted across you like an oil painting of flames–and one of two things would happen.

She might see them and feel sorry for you. And you’d seen that kind of sorry before. It was the kind of sorry that swallowed relationships whole, that changed the way someone thought about you, looked at you, loved you. And you hated that. You were six years into recovery, no relapses, and you were proud of that. You wanted the people who loved you, who saw you at your most vulnerable, to know the you that you used to be, but to love the you that was now. And so often it seemed that people got stuck on the you who dragged safety pins across your skin. You weren’t her anymore. You’d worked hard not to be.

Even worse, Emily might see the scars and find you disgusting. She’d see that there had been something wrong with you, with your brain. She’d know that at some level, there was still something wrong with you. After all, your trauma, your mental illness–they hadn’t gone away. You had spent a whole lot of years in therapy and on medication to deal with them, but they were still a part of you, a part of your story. They were a part that was hard to look at. Even for you. You found those parts of yourself ugly, believed they deserved to be hidden–much like your scars. How much uglier would they be to Emily? Emily, who wasn’t in your mind, who didn’t know what had come before or during or after, and could only see what was left–the evidence that you were not okay.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Emily’s fingers slipped under your shirt, tentatively dancing up your torso. You let out a shaky sigh and grabbed her hands in yours, deepening the kiss, hoping it was enough to distract her. But it wasn’t. Not this time.

She pulled back and watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” you prompted, flushing and trying to act like nothing was wrong.

She bit at one of her nails as she watched you, and you pulled her hand away to hold it between both of yours.

“Are you…” She hesitated, like she didn’t quite know how to ask. “Do you want to… break up?” She looked sad, scared. And, for your part, you were sure you looked absolutely shocked.

“What!? No! No, Em, of course not!” You ran gentle fingers over her face, trying desperately to communicate that you absolutely didn’t want to break up and would, in fact, like to never, ever break up.

“You just…” She sighed, picking at her fingernails again. “I love making out with you, but you never want to go any further. And I get it if you’re not ready, that’s completely fine. It’s just… it’s been a while, and I want to make sure you’re not here because… you know, because you feel like you have to be.”

You stared at your hands. You felt like your guilt might swallow you whole. Here you’d thought you were playing it cool, but realistically, what would have been the end game? Never having sex with Emily? Never letting her see your body? You’d been in relational limbo for over a month now, and it had been stupid, so stupid, to assume there wouldn’t be any consequences. She thought you didn’t like her! She thought you weren’t as into her as she was into you! And it was exactly the opposite–you were so into her that it scared you, so into her that it was scarier than it had ever been to show your scars. The thought of losing her–already, even so early on–was terrifying.

“Emily,” you started, rubbing your thumb over her hand. “I’m here because I want to be. I really like you.”

She blinked, thinking harder. “Am I… am I doing something? You know, that makes you… not want to–”

“Oh god,” you groaned, burying your head in your hands. “No, Em. No. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I do want to.”

You sighed and looked at her. Her head bent, hands worried. Your self-consciousness was making Emily self-conscious. And you really couldn’t bear that she’d think less of herself because of you.

“Take off my shirt,” you said, bluntly.

“What?”

“Take it off. It’s okay.”

Emily fiddled with a stray piece of upholstery on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N, this doesn’t seem like the right mood for—”

“Emily,” you pleaded, squeezing one of her hands. You knew if you didn’t do it now, you might never. “Please.”

Emily watched you with concern, but did as you asked, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head.

You looked up to the ceiling, exhaling shakily, willing yourself not to cry. She would see them. She was seeing it. She saw them. You didn’t know if you could ever look her in the eyes again. You didn’t even know if you could look at yourself.

You felt Emily’s hand press gently into yours, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Then you felt one of her fingers, cold for the shock of it more than the actual temperature, at the top of your breasts, the part that peeked out from the bra, littered with angry, red lines that had only somewhat faded over the years.

You felt her trace one of the scars, the whole, long trajectory of it, with her finger, and then when she reached the end, she leaned forward and planted a kiss at its zenith. Your breath caught in your throat as she continued following the scars, kissing you again and again and again until–though you’d worked so hard not to–you had stray tears leaking down the side of your face.

Emily grasped your face in her hands, so gently, so gingerly, and lowered your head, using her thumbs to brush the tears from under your eyes. You still couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” she said softly, caressing your face. You finally forced yourself to look into her eyes, and what you saw there surprised you. It wasn’t pity and it wasn’t disgust. It was something new. Admiration and respect. And–maybe, just maybe–love?

“You’re beautiful,” she told you, staring at you pointedly, holding your face so that you couldn’t look away. “You’re beautiful, and that’s all we’re gonna say about it unless you want to talk more.”

“I feel like you should–” you said, your voice breaking a bit as you sniffled. “You should know why and– and when, and–”

“I am happy to listen to anything you want to tell me,” she assured you. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. It’s your story, and you can tell me what you want, when you want. Believe me, though,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I don’t need any more information tonight if you’re not ready.”

“Really?” you asked.

Showing the scars had been hard enough. You didn’t really want to talk about your hellish high school and college years, the man who had touched you there and made you want to rip all your skin off, the years of therapy, the relapses, the depression, the medication. You’d tell her. You’d tell her all of it, you knew. But right now, you wanted to reap the rewards of being brave. The rewards being Emily.

Emily nodded and winked at you, then leaned in to brush her lips against your ear. “Y/N,” she whispered. “The only information I needed was that you had boobs under there.”

You blushed and grinned at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another heated kiss.

When you pulled away, Emily was nearly panting. You smirked. “I showed you mine. It's your turn.”

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN

He asked her to submit and she (more or less) agreed, completely unaware of what really awaits her. Now he just has to help her say goodbye to her old life, in the only way he knows...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Vaginal sex. Humiliation/Objectification if you squint. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome to SEASON TWO! Here's what happened...

P R E V I O U S L Y

Once there was a girl, 19 years young, cute and innocent, but mature enough to have one wish: to hook up with a man she'd seen only from afar. His confident and dominant aura had mesmerized her as she'd first laid eyes on him through the crowd on the dance floor of his club, how he'd lounged at the bar, eyes scanning the people dancing and drinking, and one day, their gazes had met.

But he had just watched, and it was her who approached him first. So you could say, whatever happened next might have been her fault. Her own naive little dream come true, though in her innocence she had not been prepared for what he had planned for her. What he saw in her. She'd wanted a hook-up, maybe something to dream about when the loneliness of her life came crashing down on her again, a fond memory, but it wasn't just a hook-up for him. It was more, so much more.

Because she was perfect.

The perfect submissive. Someone he could lead through life, take by the hand, take over the back of the couch, take to heights she had never even dreamed about. And oh how he showed her...

She woke up in his bedroom after he'd taken her away, coerced by a little drink, a little help, erasing that particularly memory of how she got there forever. It didn't matter. She was with him now. And she was meant to stay, even if she didn't know that yet. He was a goner as soon as she asked him to take her virginity. What an opportunity. Taking all her firsts. Served on a silver platter, just for him.

In her innocence, she expected him to be gentle and stick to his words, make her a real woman, because that was what happened when your virginity was taken, right? Oh how naive she'd been. Of course he took it, but before that he made her choke on his cock, taught her how to suck him off properly, made her more familiar with the very thing that would assault all her holes eventually.

And he didn't stop there. Butt plugs, dildos, vibrating eggs, he tested it all on her, and strangely enough, she let him. Was it submission, fear or curiosity? Who knows. There were moments where she did protest, showed a little bit of defiance, questioned him, but it only ended in him forcing his cock up her ass. A punishment she soon learned could also be a reward. It was all confusing to her, but she always came back to the same conclusion: she made this happen, she came to him, she asked him to pound the virgin right out of her, so to speak (not that she would ever use those exact words).

And he did, pounded, rammed, hammered, pistoned, slammed, stabbed, deep and hard and fast, until her head would shut down and a blissful emptiness took over. And it was that feeling that made her stay, not that she even tried to get away. Why would she? He was handsome, rich, experienced, the perfect match, right?

And despite all the vile things he did to her, she was yearning for the moments afterwards, the gentle touches, the strong grip of his arms, the pain-easing embraces. And the praises. The good girls and well dones, the proud smiles on his lips, the approving nods. She came to a point where she'd let him do anything just to be called a good girl. It was as disturbing as it was easy. It would excuse everything.

The fucking her in her sleep, the bullying of bruises he'd pummeled into her before, over and over again, in every position imaginable, at least for her, because he clearly had more ideas in mind, wherever and whenever he wanted, he would take her. He'd let her cockwarm him while he would work in his office, and she'd sit on her knees between his legs for hours, suckling on his cock, delving into the head-empty-state with pleasure. She'd be confused when he'd reward her with a deep anal pounding afterwards, but she'd take it nonetheless.

It was her purpose. She was his to use. A body with holes to fill. A toy to play with. A doll to move about as he saw fit. And she grew into her role, more with every passing hour. And those 48 hours, that single weekend, was packed with new experiences, new sensations, as he explored her durability, what she was capable of, how much she could endure. And she surprised him. She'd be sore, of course, but she wouldn't whine, not too much anyway, and he could just continue.

A perfect match.

And it led him to make a decision he would not regret: to keep her. To make her his completely. And so, on a dreary Monday morning, he took her back, to her old life, causing her to think he would really get rid of her after all, but then everything would change. He told her of his plan to keep her, told her that he'd terminated her apartment lease, resigned her from her badly-paying job. And he even asked her, despite doing all this behind her back, asked her to submit.

And in the end, she couldn't make that decision, she needed him to make it for her. She asked him to give her an order, and of course he did, and she did as he told her: she submitted, gave her life into his hands. Became his.

But that's not where the story ends. There is more on the horizon for the two strangers that met each other on a whim, whose lives entwined by chance. Who found each other compatible on multiple levels. When bodies and souls merge, stronger feelings arise. And a little infatuation can turn into something else. Maybe it's love, or maybe it's a deep, dark obsession...

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

He is honestly very surprised how well she took it. No apartment. No job. Dependent on him and him alone. Her old life taken from her just like that. And she wants it. There's no denying the look in her eyes as she knelt in front of him, asking him to give her an order. So submissive, so innocent in her own needs. Almost a little too easy, but still perfect.

He leads her into her bedroom, frowning at the décor. A small bed covered in colorful quilts and blankets and pillows in every shape imaginable. There's even a stuffed animal on it. A tattered looking wolf. He raises his eyebrow at the sight, a smirk dancing on his lips. As if this was meant to be. The image of a little girl cuddling the wolf to her chest, seeking comfort in the presence of a predator, makes his stomach tense up. He knows he'll be that wolf for her, giving her comfort as well as the unpredictability of a monster led by its natural urges to dominate.

She moves timidly through her (former) own space, shoulders sagged a little as her eyes move over various surfaces. He leans against the door frame, watching her, before his gaze wanders over the fairy lights on the wall and the bright curtains and the random assortment of trinkets on a dresser ranging from snow globes to plastic figurines to other dust collecting clutter. There are pictures above her bed, polaroids, mostly of landscape or architecture, not many people.

Walking towards a small bookcase in the corner, she runs her fingers over the spines of old looking books, but in the end moves away again and opens the door to her closet. A tiny space, filled with colorful clothes. There she bends down and picks up a backpack before she starts stuffing it with randomly picked things. He's not sure if he'll let her wear her old clothing, but he's asked her to pack stuff she may need, and maybe those old rags give her comfort, remind her of something. He allows it, for now.

She flinches when he steps behind her, his hand moving through the sparsely filled space, running over the soft fabrics hanging from the rail. He picks up a pastel pink colored dress, with little white flowers adorning the skirt portion, a thin belt cinching it up in the waist, a high rounded neckline keeping it very modest.

“Wear this,” he tells her quietly, and she looks up at him, biting her lip, but ultimately nods.

She hesitates then, unsure if he wants her to strip right away, so he takes that decision from her by putting his hands on her shoulders, slowly guiding her towards the bed. He puts the dress over the back of a chair next to the small desk, his eyes curtly grazing over the cluttered space filled with notepads and pencils and a box filled with tiny beads. He couldn't even name all the hobbies she's assembled on the tiny surface. But it tells him she is in dire need of having the clutter in her life (that's also in her head) re-organized, stripped down to the bare minimum, taken completely.

“Bend over the foot of the bed,” he says nonchalantly. Her breathing gets a little harder as she approaches her small bed, slowly leaning over the wooden frame, the boards creaking when she puts her weight on them. She folds her body over until her chest is pressed into the soft covers, elbows digging into the colorful quilt, hands clutching at the fabric, head turned to watch him out of the corner of her eye, ass raised, legs shaking slightly.

He steps behind her, gently pushing up her skirt, hands gliding over her curves, making her skin pebble beneath his touch. His fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, slowly drag them down until they pool around her ankles where he leaves them, keeping her from spreading her legs too much. He presses a few kisses up the backs of her thighs, hands sliding up and down her legs before he straightens up fully again, one hand on her lower back, the other unbuckling his belt.

His cock is already hard when it springs free from its confines, and he grabs it, gives it a few hard pumps, watching the girl in front of him as she shivers, forcing herself to remain calm while she waits for him to use her. A quick swipe through her folds tells him she's ready, or at least getting ready. Coating himself with her wetness, smirking at the way her back twitches when he drags his cock along her slit, he doesn't wait any longer.

Pushing into her with small rolls of his hips, he digs his fingers into the fabric of her bunched-up skirt, holding her in place when she starts squirming against him. Inch by inch he sinks deeper, forcing through the resistance, ignoring her tiny wails, while his heart is beating harder in his chest, his stomach already tense, the sight of her in her childish bed making him feel like an even bigger monster.

A growl escapes him, and he pulls her hips against him as he sinks the rest of his cock into her tight warmth with a harsh snap of his pelvis. She whimpers, burying her face in the blankets, thighs twitching. His hands move up her curved back, fingers curling around her shoulders, gripping her, anchoring her as he starts drawing back slowly only to push in with a force that makes her squeal. He's going deep, slow and steady, repeating the same motion over and over again, precise thrusts of his hips against her cushioned rear.

She cries out every time he slams into her cervix, body arching, hands white-knuckling the sheets, her legs kicking helplessly. Her walls clench around him, either fighting the intruder or sucking him in deeper. The same struggle is in the girl before him as she bucks her hips back, straining her shoulders under his tight grip, squirming or moving along with him. He can't tell. He doesn't care either way. He only picks up the pace.

Her legs slam rhythmically into the wooden boards of the bed, strangled noises escaping her, every plunge accompanied by the soundscape of skin slapping against skin and that traitorous squelching of her wet cunt getting to terms with his intrusion. Her whines turn into moans while he keeps pounding into her harder and faster, in and out, back and forth, until his own breathing gets rougher.

He takes one hand from her shoulders and slips it beneath her, fingers brushing over her fluttering stomach until they find her throbbing clit. She squeaks when he touches it, arching her back, body contorting as more uncontrollable spasms crash through her. She comes with a wail, pussy clamping around him hard enough for him to fight the onslaught of sensations, the need to come as well, but he keeps rubbing her nub while holding his steady rhythm of hammering into her, letting her ride that high for as long as possible.

His grunts fill the small space, her mewls are muffled, hands clutching at the blankets, head thrashing. Leaving her clit to press his hand to her belly, he moves his other hand around her neck and grips her throat, making her cry out as he lifts her up and against him, holding her tightly as he continues to ram into her, his stomach tight, his balls ready to burst. Limp fingers try to grip at his wrist as he squeezes her, her noises turning into soundless, breathless gasps as she struggles in his hold.

He wraps his other arm around her middle, lifting her up a little more, his cock pistoning in and out rapidly. The slapping sounds add to the squeaking of the bed, a cacophony of noises that drive him mad with need. Growling into her ear, he moves his hand back down between her legs, rubbing hard at that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her writhe and twitch, pathetic little gasps falling from her parted lips.

“Come for me,” he grunts, head spinning, heart racing, the tension building up into an ache he can't get enough of. “Come on my cock!”

She's shuddering, head thrashing into his shoulder, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open as she succumbs to the sensations. He feels her cunt clamping down on him as her orgasmic contractions crash through her tiny frame once more. He eases the grip on her throat, wraps his arm around her chest instead. Her soft little whimpers, that constant string of high-pitched little “Ah!”s, cloud up his mind, drive him right over the edge.

He groans and grunts and growls before he gives her that final hard thrust, burying himself as deep as possible inside her tight warmth, while the tension explodes within him, balls pumping, stomach tensing, as he empties himself inside her, painting her walls with his hot seed. She's limp in his embrace, hard breaths mixed with small whines, arms and legs boneless. He savors her warmth, that wetness coating his skin, the little shudders making his cock twitch as her tight cunt keeps milking him for all he's worth.

Slowly he lets go of her, drapes her back over the foot of the bed, carefully pulls out of her before he watches his spend dripping from her clenching hole. Then he bends down and pulls up her panties, trapping his cum, feeling it gathering in the fabric, warm and wet as he cups her mound. After putting himself away again, not even caring about their combined juices seeping into his underwear, he flips her skirt back down, makes her stand, then turns her and leans her against the wall, his hands cupping her face as he takes her in.

“You look so beautiful when you're all fucked out and boneless, you know that?” he whispers with a dark smirk, leaning closer to brush his nose against hers. She looks at him out of hooded eyes, cheeks flushed, lips still parted and trembling, a little bit of drool gathering in the corner. “Head empty, hm?”

She nods into his hands, her lips twitching into a shy smile. He closes the distance and captures them for a soft kiss, holding her against him until he feels her small hands fisting at the back of his jacket. He picks her up easily, still glued to her mouth, tongue lazily sliding against hers, as he carries her to the side of the bed and sits down, arranging her on his lap with his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Leaning into him, she moves her mouth against his, slowly gaining in confidence, her fingers sliding up his back, gripping at his shoulders, teasing at his nape. Her warm crotch presses into his leg, and he is tempted to give her another load, but then refrains, inhaling deeply, turning his head slightly. Her lips slip along his jaw and down his neck before she rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathing hard.

“Thank you,” she whispers barely audible, and he rubs her side in response, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

They sit like that for another moment, and he has to admit, it's growing on him to just have her in his arms, holding her, feeling her small body move against him when she breathes deeply, her warmth is a comfort he didn't know he needed. But the beast inside him isn't entirely convinced yet. She may be pliant now, but he's seen the defiance in her eyes. He shouldn't go easy on her too soon.

Exhaling loudly, he grabs her shoulders, startling her out of her stupor when he puts her on her feet, her legs still trembling as she stares at him with wide eyes. He tilts his head towards the desk chair, waiting for her to follow the motion. Her head turns slowly, a tiny nod jerking her chin as she sees the sundress he wants her to wear.

“Strip,” he tells her, leaning back on the bed on one arm, the other hand resting heavy on his thigh as he watches her intently.

She licks her lips, swallows, her chest rising when she inhales deeply, then she moves her hands back and fidgets with the zipper of her skirt. Her eyes wander over his face, too timid to hold his gaze properly, her cheeks splotched in many different shades of red. Putting her hands on her waist, she shimmies the skirt down her hips, bends lower, back stiff and quite uncoordinated, trying to keep looking at him before she tilts her head and steps out of it a little clumsily, swaying dangerously.

His hand shoots out to steady her, and she flinches, looking at him before biting her lip. He can't help the amused twitch of his lips. She blushes even more, quickly straightening up again while he retrieves his hand. Taking a shuddering breath, she crosses her arms and grabs the lower hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it up and over her head before letting it fall to the skirt lying next to her feet.

Now she's standing in front of him in her soiled panties and her worn down sneakers, slim arms and legs, tiny tits, a narrow waist with the hint of a curve to her hips, not typically a tremendously sexy sight for him, but she's trying, he knows it, trying to impress him. He keeps watching her, not issuing any noise of either judgment or confirmation. She's hesitant when she turns to the dress on the chair, her chest moving, her small breasts shivering, nipples hardening the longer they're exposed to the stale air of the room.

As soon as her hand closes around the rose colored fabric, he stands up, startling her when he steps behind her, towering over her. Taking the dress from her, he nudges her to turn around, and when she looks up at him, chewing on her already swollen lips, he tilts his head. “Arms up,” he says quietly, and she does as she is told. He slips the dress over her head and flattens it along her body, then pulls her hair free before his hands rest on her shoulders.

Cute. Is one word that comes to mind. Beautiful another. He raises a hand and tucks a strand of silky hair behind her ear, watching the blush spreading down her neck to her exposed arms. The sleeves fray out a little over her deltoid, accentuating her slim shoulders. He runs his hand down along her arm, hooking it around her elbow, pulling her closer to him.

Her big eyes look up at him, and he watches her, fighting the urges crawling back to the surface (and the blood back into his cock). Exhaling loudly, his breath making loose hairs around her face fly, he clenches his jaw and lets go of her, steps back. “Alright, finish packing. I'll wait out there,” he says and turns around, leaving the tiny space that is her childish little bedroom. Before he leaves, his eyes fall onto the wolf plushie.

Shaking his head with a dark smirk, he keeps walking and settles on the couch in her living room slash kitchen, listening to her rummaging through her drawers and dressers while scrolling through his emails on his phone.

Her shuffling footsteps make him look up. She's holding the straps of the backpack that seems to burst at the seams with how full she's packed it. Her eyes are lowered, a nervous twitch to her lips before she starts chewing on the bottom one. “I'm done,” she whispers.

He stands up and walks towards her, grabbing the backpack from her small hand before flinging it over his shoulder. “And this is all?”

“It's all that fit,” she admits, still biting her lip. He moves his free hand to her face, rubbing his thumb over her lip and pulling it from between her teeth with a firm press. She looks up at him, her eyes a little watery.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. My people will grab the rest. I won't dispose of anything,” he tells her quietly. “Well, except for that couch, which is just awful.” The comment makes her lips quirk up, and he smiles at her in return.

“Thank you,” she whispers, genuine gratitude swimming in her big eyes. He caresses her cheek, holding her face, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

It's almost too easy how this all worked out. She is so submissive, eager to please, eager to follow him wherever he drags her. He just ripped her from her old life, abducted, used, forced into her new reality, and she still thanks him for it. What a beautiful little creature. Simply perfect.

He shifts the strap of the backpack on his shoulder and grabs her face with both hands, bending over her as he tilts her chin up. For a moment he just looks at her, takes her in, every inch of her soft face, noticing the twinkle in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks, the warmth under his palms, the slight tremble to her lips.

Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against hers. “I wish I could pay this place the proper respect by bending you over every surface there is, oh trust me, I'd imagined it while I was waiting, throwing you on that awful couch, splaying you out on the counter, I'd even take you on that horrendous rug down there, but I'm afraid we don't have time...” he closes with a sigh.

She shivers, her breath hitching, and when he looks at her, leaning back a little, her face is fully flushed and her lips parted. He smirks at her.

“Did you think about it too?” he whispers, his breath fanning over her face. “Never had a boy over, right?” She nods into his hands, averting her eyes. “So all these surfaces have never been used like that?” He sighs again. “So tempting,” he whispers, licking his lips.

He lowers his hands and lets them rest on her shoulders as he straightens up and looks around the small space, his mind reeling with images of them doing it wherever his eyes land. Sure, there's not a lot of options, the place is tiny and so are the surfaces, but he would have made it work. He'd even fuck her in that minuscule shower. There's a certain thrill to shoving his big body into tiny spaces, his cock certainly can relate – and it twitches dangerously as he remembers the tight grip of her beautifully small cunt.

Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head trying to rid himself of those tempting fantasies. They'll have time to fuck elsewhere later. Maybe he shouldn't prolong the moment of letting her say goodbye to her own little space too much. He looks back down at her, catching her watching him intently. It's rare to see her so curious, so eager in her own little wishes, and the way she looks at him, he can tell she's having the same thoughts he had.

A smirk plays around the corner of his lips, and he notices a deeper blush forcing itself onto her cheeks. “We should go,” he says then, tilting his head. “Are you ready?”

Her eyes move down, all eagerness and curiosity gone, as she nods timidly. His hand is back on her chin, pushing it up gently. “Last chance to tell me to fuck off,” he teases with a grin, challenging her. She looks up with a bit of shock in her big eyes.

“I... I would never do that,” she murmurs softly, blinking before looking away again. “I... I want this,” she then adds, and he watches her inhale deeply, squaring her shoulders. “I... I want to be... with you...” Her voice is that soft hum in the stale air around them, and it softens his heart – but thickens his cock.

He caresses her bottom lip, gently slipping his thumb into her mouth when she looks up at him. “My good girl,” he whispers fondly as he watches her close her lips around his digit, giving the slightest of sucks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, pupils dilating, and he just knows her mind is emptying as she focuses on him.

She needs this, needs him, and it's the best fucking feeling, he couldn't have asked for anything more (not that he would have actually asked because he doesn't ask for anything, but you get the picture). Her obedience, submission, her trust, it all gathers in his stomach, a pleasant heat that he can't get enough of.

God, he wants to fuck that cute little face so bad! He pulls his hand back with a groan, fighting the urges that make his fingers twitch before he curls them around her slim shoulder. His grip is tighter than intended, and she flinches slightly, a small gasp falling over her parted lips. “The power you have over me,” he says under his breath, clenching his jaw.

His eyes meet hers, and she seems confused, and she should be. Never before had a woman been able to get this deep under his skin. All his life, he had been the dominant one, using women for what they are: holes to fill, bodies to satisfy his urges with. Nothing more. He's kept the occasional submissive, or rather, slave, plaything, toy, but he had been growing bored with them so fast, it had been a little concerning.

But this girl, despite only knowing and having her for a weekend and a few hours, this tiny innocent girl seems to hit all the spots that make him absolutely crazy about her. He's never been this sure about anything in his life, and he's taken numerous risks before. He wouldn't be who he is now if there weren't risks involved, both in life and in business, and even though it seems to be a major risk to bind her to himself after only this short amount of time, he feels more than confident about it.

Because she is perfect. And she wants this.

Having her around 24/7 will be a new adventure, and he's looking forward to it. Oh he's already imagining it. Her little frame, preferably naked, possibly kneeling somewhere, waiting for him, ready to be used, and he only has to approach her to get her to service him... whenever he wants. The thought makes his cock strain against the confines of his pants.

To rid himself of the temptations, he steps back, grabs her hand and turns around, pulling her after him. He feels her stumbling slightly, surprised by the sudden movement, but she follows nonetheless. When they reach the door, he catches her looking back towards her old bedroom, it's only a few seconds, before she looks back at him, and he squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile that makes her blush instantly.

He meets one of his men in the hallway outside her apartment, and while she stares at the other man in slight shock, he only exchanges a nod with him and watches how the broad guy enters the tiny space. As they descend the many stairs, more of his people enter the apartment building, ready to rid it of any evidence of the girl he's dragging after him.

She seems a little hesitant, and he can't blame her, having strange men rummage through the stuff she used to call her own is not easy. But she shouldn't worry, he's planned this out better than he's planning most of his business deals. She'll be in for a surprise.

They reach his car, and there are two moving trucks parked on the small street. Her grip on his hand is tight as her eyes follow the line of workers vanishing into the building. He pulls her to the trunk, opens it with his free hand and puts her backpack into it. A strange sight, a battered old backpack, stuffed to the brim, in the spotless little space in the back of his car. But it isn't the most unusual sight it has seen.

For a moment he remembers stuffing other things, girls like her, into it, blindfolded, gagged, tied up to fit, scared out of their little minds, and he's glad it had been a different story with her. She came to him. She wanted this. And it's only fair to give her the best treatment he can think of, the best in his mind anyway. No matter the grip she has on him, this is still all about his pleasure, and luckily she knows it by now.

When he closes the lid of the trunk with a thud, she flinches, then meets his eyes. He cups her face with one hand, caressing her lips with his thumb, his eyes roaming over her soft features. She melts under his touch, a shy smile grazing her mouth, eyes warm and pliant, pupils dilating despite the bright light around them. He gives her a wink and watches the blush creep up her cheeks.

After he put her into the passenger seat and buckled her in (which she doesn't seem to get used to, as she watched him with wide eyes and trembling lips while he leaned over her), he slips behind the wheel, puts on his own seat belt and starts the engine with a roar that echoes through the quiet street.

She settles into the seat, small hands clasped together on her lap, that pastel pink dress he chose a stark contrast to the dark interior of his car. Once he pulls into the rows of traffic, his hand finds her thigh, and she stiffens before she relaxes as his long fingers curl around her soft leg, slipping between them, feeling her warmth. Imagining the stain his cum had left on the fabric of her panties.

He keeps having these images flicker through his mind, and the longer he drives through the crowded city, the harder he gets from just thinking about whatever he could do to his new plaything, the willing girl next to him. The possibilities are endless. As they stop in front of a red light, he slips his hand deeper between her thighs, fingers pushing firmly against her sex, and she squirms, but ultimately opens her legs a little, allowing him to tease the damp fabric of her underwear.

Pressing down hard, he quickly finds her clit, and she gasps, her legs twitch and threaten to clamp down around his hand, but he feels the effort she's putting into keeping them open. He looks at her, that little thing on his passenger seat, so small, flushed and aroused, red splotches dancing on her cheeks while her eyes are hooded as she worries her lip between her teeth. He keeps circling that sensitive bud that throbs under his touch, until he has to take his hand away to shift gears as the traffic light changes to green.

Her sigh mirrors his. He chuckles softly, while she looks away, her face even redder now. They keep driving in silence until he pulls into a parking garage below one of the stores he wanted to take her to. It's very quiet when he cuts the engine and turns to her. She is still chewing on her lip, and he reaches out to stop her as he notices how swollen they already are.

She looks at him, and her mouth opens slightly, an instinct as his thumb moves closer, but he pulls it away before she can suck on it again. So predictable, his little kitten. He smirks at her, admiring the small pout that crosses her features. Forcing himself to look away, he gets out of the car and walks around the hood to her side, opens the door and leans over her to unbuckle her seat belt. She hasn't even tried to do it herself, she's learning already.

When his face is in line with hers, he grabs her chin and presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss, holding her gaze. “You'll be a good girl for me, right?” he whispers, hovering close to her, waiting for her to react. She nods. “You'll do whatever I tell you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes against his lips, and he gives her another kiss in response. Leaning back with a smile, he then extends his hand. She grabs it instantly and lets him pull her out of the car. She's so tiny against him, it melts his heart, which in turn sends a strange heat lower down his body.

Squeezing her hand, he pulls her away with another sigh of frustration. As much as he wants to press her against his car and fuck her raw in this very parking garage, he knows he shouldn't and he won't. This fucking restraint. Instead he drags her towards the elevator and punches the button a little too hard while simultaneously trying not to break the girl's hand with how tight he's holding it.

She doesn't protest, though, just follows him, her old sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. He fights another image of railing her in the elevator, right under the surveillance camera, their reflections all around them, her face contorted in pleasure as he bounces her up and down on his thick cock while the small cubicle pushes its way up the building. A stifled groan slips from his throat as he closes his eyes to force the thought away, and it's the little squeeze of her hand that grounds him again. Inhaling deeply, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

Seeing her soft expression, full of equal parts curiosity and anxiety, he just shoots her a strained smile and pulls her against his side, savoring her warmth, the little flutter of her breath as she leans into him. They stand in comfortable silence until the doors slide open with a ding, and he grabs her hand again and pulls her along gently, keeping her next to him until they reach an unassuming door.

He never walks into shops through the front door if he can help it, it's become a good habit, a necessary need sometimes. Rapping his knuckles gently against the slick surface, he waits, and only a few moments later, the door opens, and they are greeted by a smiling older woman with big hair and too much perfume. He nods at her and she bows her head as she welcomes them into the backroom of her store.

The girl pushes against him instinctively, timid and confused, searching his body heat, the safety of his hold, and he grants it to her, putting one arm around her slim shoulders as he guides her through the narrow hallways until they enter a carpeted room lined with mirrors and a shelf full of tailor equipment.

“What an adorable little thing,” the woman drawls in obviously fake enthusiasm as she closes the door behind them, shutting out the muffled chatter from the front of the shop where other clients rummage through the various clothing racks. “So how did you like the clothes I sent you? Was everything alright with them?”

He looks down at the girl who meets his gaze, a little frown between her brows. “They were perfect, but I'd like you to measure her properly. You got the list I made?”

“Of course, sir,” the seamstress replies in her borderline annoying sing-sang voice. If it wouldn't be for her discretion and their long history together, he couldn't stand spending another minute with her. “I'm glad you brought her, it's always easier to find the right things if I can get my hands on the object wearing them.”

Object. While he chuckles at the word, he sees the girl in his arm frowning deeply. But that's what she is, that's what they all were. Objects, toys, dolls he could dress and undress and do whatever he wanted to. He leads her to the little platform in the middle of the room, and she hesitates as she steps on it, her eyes widening slightly.

“Take off your dress, baby,” he tells her, cocking his head to the side. While she stares at him, his insides tense. The first real test. Will she obey without fussing? It's important to him to know that she will do what he tells her, especially in front of strangers. His hands slip along her arms, palms pressing into her skin, a demanding grip, as he stares down at her, eyes narrowed, and she takes a shuddering breath and nods, slowly reaching for the hem of the dress. He relaxes and lets go of her. “Good girl.”

He watches her as she slowly pulls the dress over her head, hands shaking, body stiff, breathing heavily, but she's focusing on him, trying to ignore the woman waiting behind them. He takes the dress from her and hands it back to the seamstress without looking at her, his eyes focused only on the naked torso in front of him. She's trying to cover herself, her arms squishing her small breasts together as her hands rest in front of her soiled panties, her thighs clamped together tightly, and there's panic in her eyes.

He's almost forgotten about his cum in her underwear, and a sigh escapes him. It doesn't matter to him, and certainly not to the woman waiting to do her job, but he feels the girl's discomfort, wants to tell her that he dragged girls in here in far worse conditions, but ultimately he just steps closer and grabs her hands, holds her wrists, looks at her intently. “It's okay, keep them on,” he says quietly. “No need to be ashamed.”

She swallows visibly and nods, biting her lip. He tilts his head, gaze fixed on her mouth, and she stops the nervous motion, moves her tongue between her lips before pressing them into a thin line. He lets go of her and nods in return, ignoring the curious gaze from the other woman as she steps around them, a flexible measuring tape in her hands. She must think he's lost it now, with how soft and gentle he treats the girl in front of him.

He's never been like this, so considerate, comforting, patient. He usually brought his toys here to be left with the tailor, not caring about their discomfort. They usually barely noticed where they were anyway, he'd make sure of it, so bringing her here, as pure as she is, so willing and eager, mind open enough to follow his commands without having been coerced (by drugs at least), it's a first for all parties involved.

Stepping away, he holds her gaze until he leans against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest, watching her as she comes to terms with her surroundings, or the woman starting to take her measurements. She's thorough and rough, grabs the girl's arms and lifts them as if she were indeed just a doll – that is until she flinches away and winces when the woman forces her legs apart, and he sees the restraint in the seamstress' motions, she's about to slap the poor girl for disobedience, but instead she turns to him.

“Tell her to stay still.”

He shoots the woman a dark glance, and she bows her head, but holds his gaze, determined to continue her job, no matter whose money is paying her to do so.

With a sigh, he looks at the girl behind her who freezes when she meets his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything, she issues a tiny nod and lowers her head, standing stock-still on the podium, letting the woman grab her limbs to measure them. Her face, however, is bright red, and she even clenches her hands into fists, fighting the urge to flinch time and time again, especially when the tailor slips the measuring tape around her thighs, dangerously close to where he can see the little wet stain in her panties.

He watches her, thinking back to the list he made. He isn't just ordering underwear for her, also dresses, cute and more elegant ones, but most importantly things the store doesn't sell in their front window display. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can already imagine her in the lacy sets, her small body covered in the intricate straps of the garter belts holding those soft stockings that will hug her legs, and that he can't wait to peel off her.

And then there are the harnesses, the cuffs, the belts, all kinds of restraints he wants to put on her to rid her of her last ounce of self-control. He wants her to lose it all, lose herself for him, give herself up to him and him alone. She'll love it, he's sure, eventually.

A sudden slapping sound breaks him from his daydreams of tying her to the bed, and his eyes fly open. The girl lets out a whimper, slouching her shoulders, while the woman stands in front of her with the measuring tape wrapped around her small bust, the rigid tape pressing hard into her nipples. There's a barely there red spot on the girl's cheek. He pushes off the wall and walks closer.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low and with a dangerous edge to it. The seamstress stiffens.

“She kept moving about,” she explains, quickly finishing the measurement of the girl's chest to step away from him. “How am I supposed to get her exact measurements if she fights this so much?”

“She's not yours to slap,” he says darkly, his eyes moving along the naked body in front of him. The girl's chest rises and falls quicker, her head bowed, but her hands relax slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the woman replies quietly as she returns to wrap the tape around the girl's slim waist from behind her, her motions much more careful now. “I apologize...”

He hums in response, extending a hand to touch the blemished cheek. She meets his gaze, eyes big and full of concern, but they soften when he caresses her softly. “Keep still,” he reminds her quietly, and she nods into his hand. Pressing his thumb to her lips, she parts them, but he only smirks at her and gives her a wink as he pulls his hand away again, his cock stirring at the sight of her little pout.

Returning to lean against the wall, he keeps watching the scene, slowly slipping back into his fantasies, smiling to himself as he thinks about the girl clad in white lace, or black, or that soft pink that will fit her as well, and how he will then remove that fancy lingerie he's paying way too much for. He could strip her gently, let her wear a certain set again, or he could rip it off, cut it off, tear it away until she's bare in front of him. That'll depend on his mood.

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

End notes: Welcome back to SEASON TWO of INFATUATED!

I wrote the following ten chapters down in about a week (like I did the first ten, actually), it'll get quite intense, but there will be more backstory as well, as hinted in this chapter already. Things will thicken, the plot included. I hope you are ready!

Thank you for coming back to read this depraved piece of fiction.

Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST:

@untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾ SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

[whenmemorydies]

90s alternative rock, masculinity and The Bear

This post by @bbythurs got me thinking about The Bear's soundtrack, specifically its use of 90s alternative rock. Some thoughts below.

Chris Storer and I are very close in age, and going by the soundtrack choices for The Bear, grew up listening to very similar music. I came to grunge a few years after its heyday but when I did, I quickly became obsessed with these (mostly) white boys singing frankly about things like domestic violence, sexual assault, drug use, and mental health issues, and who seemed to revel in challenging traditional masculinity. Their hair was often long but usually not overly styled (or washed for that matter), they sometimes wore dresses, lipstick and eyeliner on stage (but were decidedly unglam about it), and they scribbled "PRO CHOICE" on their bare arms during prime time television performances (shout out to Eddie Vedder).

Kurt Cobain on the cover of The Face, September 1993.

Michael Stipe, who often played with gender in R.E.M.'s live shows, had also recently come out as queer (his words were, an "equal opportunity lech") during the promotional cycle for REM's Monster (the album featuring Sydcarmy's infamous "Strange Currencies"). Alternative rock in the 90s was full of folks who were challenging convention, including the necessity of traditional masculinity.

The irony is that so many of the people who listened to grunge were white guys who had no problem with traditional masculinity. These were the same guys who head-banged and dove in mosh pits to these songs but went home and beat on their partners, or perpetrated sexual assault while singing the lyrics to these songs. No one can control who consumes your art, even if some artists did try to (see Kurt Cobain's liner notes from Nirvana's Insecticide):

In contrast, it seems like Chris Storer (thankfully) got the correct memo.

Ever since watching the first episode of The Bear, it was clear to me that this show has plenty to say about masculinity: how its performed and weaponised (2x06 Fishes is a master class in depicting this on film), how its subverted (think: Emmanuel and Pete but also Marcus and Chester), how those who don't conform to traditional masculine archetypes - in even the most innocuous way, like being artistic - can be isolated and picked off, including by those who might love them the most (see: Carmy's treatment by many in his family), and how those who do perform traditional masculinity to a T, can still be decimated in its wake (see: alpha-male Mikey).

Hearing tracks like Pearl Jam's "Animal" and "Come Back", REM's "Strange Currencies" and "Oh My Heart", Radiohead's "Let Down", and Nine Inch Nail's "The Day The World Went Away" used in The Bear is incredibly nostalgic for those of us who grew up with these artists. Their inclusion in the soundtrack is also incredibly intentional (like everything to do with this show). This is the music that Mikey was likely listening to growing up and that Carmy would have heard his brother playing. This is also undoubtedly the music that Storer grew up listening to as well.

I love that in a show about a man who is coming into his own after years of toxicity and abuse - much of which was targeted at Carmy because of how he performed (or didn't perform) masculinity - that reference is being paid to this genre. And if it was the case that this was the music Mikey was listening to and, perhaps even playing for Carmy when they were kids, that Carmy would be able to go back and re-listen to these artists now and know, that despite Mikey's demons and his own relationship with masculinity, that his brother always loved Carm, just as he was.

Author's note:

Also if there is a temporary (because it has to be fucking temporary, you hear me lol) Sydcarmy break up/parting of ways, I'm gonna need Storer and Calo to soundtrack it with Pearl Jam's "Black" (the MTV Unplugged performance). I'll need Eddie Vedder growling/screaming "WE BELONG TOGETHER" over a close up of Carmy's distraught face as Syd walks away. I'm going to need to hear,

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life/I know you will be a star/In somebody else's sky/But why, why, why can't it be/Can't it be mine?,

over the end credits please.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty P.A. Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion modeling agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  **curvy reader** **Y/N/N = Your nickname ** Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from Bucky), some violence, blood, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

The next few weeks were filled with planning, redecorating, traveling and reworking within the agency.  What was now Bucky’s office was going through a major remodel after Tony moved out of it, and Y/N was following him around as he finished his last few modeling assignments and contracts.  She had inserted herself into his life as much as she could, getting to know his routine, his likes and dislikes, his family and their details, and all the things she had done that worked between her and Tony.  It didn’t come without challenges, though.  Bucky was always keeping her an arms length away personally, never fully opening up to her, and he seemed to struggle trusting her.  After another long shoot day, Bucky changed back into his comfortable clothes and headed over to Y/N who was typing furiously on her phone.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greeted him quickly and held out his water bottle to him.  He took it and drank a few big gulps before giving it back to her.  “The publicist said we’re done for the day.  Is there anywhere else you’d like to go before heading home?” she asked as she gathered her things together, slipping his drink into one of her bags.

“I’d like to stop at the office and see where they’re at with the remodel,” he said quickly.

“Of course.  The car is ready,” Y/N said politely.  She was ever the professional with Bucky.  He had made it very clear from the first day they worked together that he was not one for personal conversation.  He called her Miss Y/L/N, so she returned the favor and only called him by his last name.  He had given her an odd look when she did but didn’t press her on it.  She only asked him appropriate-for-work type of questions, and he did the same to her.  To the others in the office she regularly interacted with, she was her usual bright and bubbly self, being able to intersperse the professionalism with her friendships, then the second he walked in she would straighten her back and school her face to a more demure expression.

The car pulled up to the agency and he got out first and held the door for her.  Ever the gentleman, she thought.  She gave him a polite smile and led him into the building.  The elevator ride was silent, as it always was, and when it opened they found the office empty.  The construction workers and interior designers had left for the day.  Y/N led the way to his office and slowly opened the door.  It was nearly done.  The desk and chairs were on the floor in pieces, waiting to be assembled, but the paint, wallpaper, flooring, and basic styling pieces were all in place.

“How do you like it so far, Mr. Barnes?” Y/N asked as she slowly walked around the office, making mental notes about small things that needed cleaning or possible changes.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, so she turned back to him.  He was looking around with a small smile on his face.  “It looks great.  I’m excited for it to be done so we’re not moving around all day.”

Y/N nodded with a side smile.  “Any changes that you’d like to make?”

Bucky looked at her again, the smile slipping off his face.  “Just one.”  He walked closer to her, stopping about a foot away from her.  He met her gaze and his eyes narrowed.  “Why do you call me Mr. Barnes?”

Y/N blinked in surprise.  “I thought that’s what you wanted to be called.”

His head tilted.  “Why would you think that?”

She copied his head tilt.  “You called me Miss Y/L/N on the first day.  I assumed that was the kind of relationship you would like to establish with me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his smile lighting up his face again.  “It just feels very strange for you to be so open and friendly with everyone in the office but me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and her mouth slightly dropped.  “Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“It’s fine,” Bucky laughed.  “That was my fault.  Can we start again?”

Y/N sighed and smiled wider.  “Yes.”  She held her hand out to him.  “Hi.  My name is Y/N.”

Bucky reached forward and shook her hand.  “Hi Y/N.  My name is Bucky.  And I like to be called Bucky.”

Y/N laughed and he seemed to brighten at that.  “I like to be called Y/N.  Though I’ve also been called “Pretty P.A.,” “Y/N/N,” or “that bitch at Olympus.””

Bucky’s brow furrowed.  “Who called you that last one?”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You’ll find out soon during next week’s meetings.”

Bucky grimaced.  “Am I going to have to be the big bad boss on somebody?”

Y/N shook her head.  “I can handle myself, Bucky.”

He looked unsure but nodded.  “We should probably review those meetings real quick.”

Y/N nodded and led him out of the office to her little desk area right outside.  She sat at her chair and Bucky sat on the reception waiting area couch, plopping his long legs up onto the cushion.  She opened her books and had her phone calendar open as she started reading off the meetings planned for the next week.

“Then Thursday there’s a two hour lunch blocked out for Hydra–”

“No,” Bucky’s voice scared her.  She looked up at him in alarm.  His eyes were piercing as he looked over at her, his lips set in a fine line and his nose flaring in anger.  “We will never do business with them again.”

Y/N was shocked but quickly recovered herself.  She looked back down at her book and made a note.  “I will cancel.”  

Bucky was stiff as he sat up straight on the couch.  He glared at the floor as he swallowed harshly.  “I’m guessing that’s who called you the bitch at Olympus?”

Y/N scoffed as she set down her pen and leaned back in her chair.  “How did you know?”

Bucky shook his head.  The anger on his face quickly turned to despair and he closed his eyes.  “Just had a feeling,” he whispered.

Y/N felt the shift in the energy of the room.  She slowly stood and walked over to the couch and sat next to him, but kept her distance.  She angled her body to face him.  “May I ask why you don’t want to work with them?”

Bucky was wringing his hands in front of him as the emotions on his face kept changing.  He kept his eyes closed.  “I’ve kept my distance with you, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”  Y/N didn’t answer.  “It hasn’t been because I don’t like you.  It’s because…do you remember booking me on a photoshoot eight years ago with Hydra?”

Y/N thought back.  “Vaguely, yes.  You were a few years in with us at that point.”

Bucky nodded and his jaw clenched.  “And do you remember how I suddenly quit after that?”  She nodded again.  “Alexander Pierce is…a piece of work,” he continued, breathing heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth, like he was fighting off a panic attack.  “His long-time photographer, Brock Rumlow, was having me do some strange poses.”  Y/N suddenly knew where this conversation was going and her hands tightened into fists, her own jaw clenching.  “I didn’t think much of it at first.  Some photographers have weird creative processes.  But then he made everyone leave so it was just me and him.  He started physically posing me, and next thing I knew his hand was down my pants.”  

Y/N inhaled deeply, her brow furrowing as her hands shook.  Bucky opened his eyes slowly and then looked at her.  “He touched me.  And I freaked.  Smashed his camera, screamed the whole way out.  By the time I made it back to Olympus I just couldn’t face what had happened.  I didn’t know how to tell Tony, who to talk to, what to do.  So I just quit and started being a free agent.”

Y/N’s eyes started to brim with tears out of frustration and sadness.  “I’m so sorry, Bucky.  Hydra has a reputation but if I had known I would have never sent you there.”

Bucky shook his head and turned toward her.  “It’s not your fault,” Bucky said and reached for her hands, helping smooth out her fists.  “It’s not anyone’s fault.  But you deserve to know, seeing as how you’ll have to communicate with them.  Olympus has always had contracts with Hydra, so I’m sure they won’t take the rejection well, losing a long term connection.  But I will not associate with them, or put any of our models in harm’s way.”

Y/N kept her gaze on his hands as they held hers, nodding as she tried to keep her emotions at bay.  “I was standoffish with you at the start,” Bucky conceded.  “I’m harboring some anger still.  But I know it’s not your fault.  Your work and networking connections speak for themselves, and I’m glad you’re my P.A.  You care about everyone here and the work we do.”

Y/N looked up at him finally, her eyes still sad but a small smile on her face.  “Thank you.”  She gripped his fingers a little tighter.  “I’m so sorry you went through that.  It’s one of my biggest fears for our models, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Bucky nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.  “Well now you do, and we can keep everyone else safe.”

Y/N nodded and slipped a hand away from him to dab at her eyes.  “God, I’m sorry,” she laughed.

“Don’t be,” Bucky laughed.  “I appreciate your concern.”

Y/N quickly sniffed then stood.  “Well,” she cleared her throat and walked back to the desk.  “Canceling that meeting will free up your Thursday lunch, so if there was a specific agency you were interested in we could reach out to them.  Tony always liked having open Fridays, so I haven’t scheduled anything for that day, but if you’d rather I can move some of the next Monday’s meetings over.  Also your mother’s birthday is in two weeks, and since she’s been traveling I got her itinerary and ordered her gift to be delivered in Romania when she gets there, though you’ll need to let me know whether she likes peach or pink roses.  Peach means gratitude, while pink means more along the lines of sweetness and refinement, and since it’s her 65th birthday it would be nice to do something representing that.  The thank you cards are ready for you to sign for all the gifts for your directorship here–”

“Free Fridays sounds great,” Bucky snickered.  “She loves pink.  I’ll sign those tomorrow.  Man, when you get going you just keep going, don’t you?”

Y/N snorted.  “You didn’t let me finish, but yes, I do.”

Bucky watched amusedly as she continued to rattle off everything for the foreseeable future.

***

“Hydra Modeling Agency, how can I help you?”

“Hi Elsie,” Y/N drawled in a sickly sweet voice over the phone.

“Ugh, what do you want?” Elsie scoffed.

“Just calling to tell you the meeting for Thursday is canceled,” Y/N sing-songed.

“Excuse me?” Elsie snorted.  “You can’t just cancel with Alexander Pierce.”

“Watch me,” Y/N said, her voice dropping low.  “And you can let him know that we will never be doing business with him or Hydra again.”

Elsie stuttered and she lowered her voice.  “You can’t just cancel contracts like that.  He owns half of the modeling world.  Do you seriously want to start this war?”

“Oh I think he’s got much bigger fish to fry than worrying about losing a measly little contract with us,” Y/N laughed, then hit send on her email.  She could hear the ping from Elsie’s computer on the other end of the line.  She waited until she heard a gagging sound.  “Do tell Alex the bitch from Olympus says hi, and if you could pass along a message to Brock…tell him to rot in hell,” she said, then hung up.

An hour later Bucky came out of his office with a look of shock on his face.  “Y/N, could I see you in my office?”

“Yes,” she smiled and grabbed her notebook.  She followed him into the office and he closed the door behind her.  She turned to him after she set the book down on his desk.  “So what did you—oof!”

Bucky hugged her, squeezing her tight as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.  Y/N froze for a moment before she felt his body shaking with quiet sobs.  She quickly melted into his embrace, her hands looping behind him and caressing his back as she felt his tears start wetting her shoulder.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing…nothing’s wrong,” Bucky muttered against her.  His fingers gripped the back of her shirt as he squeezed her again.  He pulled away after a moment and looked down at her.

Y/N’s heart ached to see him cry but he was smiling.  “Then why are you crying?” she huffed a laugh as her hands moved from his back to his face, wiping away the tears.

“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Bucky smiled, sniffing quickly.  “I’ve been getting calls from multiple people for the past hour about that email you sent out.”  Y/N fought the smile on her face and looked away.  “I didn’t know that Rumlow assaulted so many other models.  You’ve done more to stop him in just minutes than I ever had the courage to in years,” he said quietly, biting his lip to stop it from trembling.  

Y/N pulled his hands from behind her and held them in front of her, her thumbs softly running across his knuckles.  “Like you said, I care about the people I work with.  Both in our agency and outside of it.  And I couldn’t stand the thought of him just out there, walking free and hurting other people.  So I made a few calls and sent a few emails,” she reached up and wiped a few more fallen tears, “talked to HR and our legal team, and a bunch of news outlets.  Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it.”

Bucky stared at her in admiration for a minute before looking at their entwined hands.  He moved his hands so he was holding hers instead and brought them up to his lips, kissing each hand before setting them back down.  “Thank you.”

Y/N was surprised by the affection but welcomed it.

[romanarose]

Favorites of 2023

Hi! I've seen a lot people doing these so I thought I would too!

These are all sorts of Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal fics that delighted me this year <3

I tried to keep it to one rec per author just because I have soooooo many friends with wonderful fics and blogs who deserve recognition

If yours didn't make it, NO FEAR you are still wonderful to me &lt;3

Everything is labeled properly in the fic so be warned, many of this contains dark!

3 series that I couldn't stop thinking about

Hungry Hearts By @atinylittlepain: The Last of Us, A Bruce Springsteen themed Joel series? SHEEEEEEEESH

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites : The Last of Us, Jackson!Joel and a victim of prolonged sexual assault. If you know me, you know I love a traumatized reader healing with the power of love and friendship

The Fractured Moon by @melodygatesauthor : Moon Knight, NON CON, dark moon boys is always a slay but the way Marc is so tortured and Steven is so needy?!?!?!?! Mels characterization of Steven may or may not have influenced my Ben in ROF

Three fics that rewired my brain

On the Waterfront by @beefrobeefcal : Triple Frontier, Now, I've always loved a tubby man with a belly (who else had a crush on Samwise Gamgee in LOTR?) BUT DARK FRANKIE?!?!?!?! Turned it into a full obsession.

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear : The Last of Us, Wow, I devoured every single chapter!!! I thinka bout it so much, ESPECIALLY that scene with Tommy... I've never looked at a pool ball the same way.

Dancing With Wolves by @hon3yboy : Moon Knight, Now, I'm not the biggest monster fucker out there, but this?!?!?!?! WEREWOLF MARC SPECTOR??? Unwell about it.

3 times men jerking off was hot

Caught by @toxicanonymity : The Last of Us, I've mentioned in the authors note for Keep Cry'n that this fic inspired it, it's one I go back to allllll the time

Take Care of me Tonight by @missdictatorme : Moon Knight, Jake is horny and lonely and jerks of..... reader helps, and makes our boy feel special <3

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin : Narcos, Javi is... well... pent up, needs to let loose! and boy does he.

4 times it got gay bc something is wrong with me and I couldn't decide

Behind Enemy Lines by @astroboots : Triple Frontier, Y'all know how much I love this series, seeing as I wrote a fic for it XD but this chapter is something i always hold close <3

Captain of the team by @writefightandflightclub : Triple Frontier, MAAAAAANNNNN this fic is why I will never be the same as a person.

Trine by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction : Sucker Punch. Anyone who reader blue jones should be reading this. Incredible.

What if he never had to go? by @velocibeewords : Triple Frontier, The infamous series I read on my friend bachelorette weekend! So good I couldn't put it down, going so far as to read it at a casino XD Benny and Santi, my babies

3 times underused characters shined

Oxford Comma by @whatthefishh : The Two Faces of January, Tell me, how does someone take a character with almost no following and make a series so damn beloved by many??? Only Mona could.

My Ex's Tapes by @runa-falls : Lighteningface, Basil Stilt AND Jake Lockley??!?! God bless this mess hnnggggg

I'm Getting What's Mine by @winniethewife : The Card Counter, dub con, I think we as a society need more William Tell, and sensory deprivation to break down reader? Amazing.

3 times they talked dirty to me *trumpet noises*

Not a Survivalist Girl by @tightjeansjavi and @chaotic-mystery : The Last of Us, when they finally fuck??? HELLO?!?!! unreal

Only Daddy That'll Walk the Line by @millerscoffee : The Last of Us, Joel is so degrading and condescending in this I think about it so much it's fucking unreal.

Making Trouble by @juneknight : Moon Knight, The fic that completly fried the brains of the moon knight fandom. "You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop" yeah. Yeah...

3 times there were three or more

The story of us by @pimosworld : Triple Frontier, This series has a special place in heart bc Priscilla said I influenced a lo of it with the characterizations and thats such a big honor. Priscilla Is so talented and I adore how she writes these guys... and the FishBen wins my heart

Eyes on Me by @cavillscurls : The Last of Us, Soft Joel? Tommy watches? AFTERCARE?!?!?! Y'all know how much I love aftercare.... I should read this again shouldn't I?

Run the Table by @katiexpunk : The Last of Us, MORE TOMMY JOEL THREESOME! MORE!!!! This one came out recently so its still fresh in my mind

3 Times I should NOT have been into that

No Soul to Sell @atticrissfinch : The Last of Us, NON CON V DARK, this is the fic that made me like... yeah I'm into piss. No doubt. It was so dark and hot ;-;

Plushies Series by @pedge-page The Last of Us, Haru knows how much I love this, and it was a toss up between this and their piss kink but seeing as I got that above.... plushes needs more love bc its so soft and domestic and horny <3

Plaything by @missannwinchester : The Last of Us, wow, I adored this fic… then I lost it!!!! Thank you to everyone who helped find it bc it’s one of my favs. I wanna be Joel’s lil doll he dresses up 🥺

3 times I said “this is underrated af”

No One But Me by @koshkamartell : The Last of Us, Are y'all tired of me talking about this fic yet? Koshka told me my series The Wrong Way inspired this so it's special to my heart <3

Safe by @criticallyacclaimedstranger and @apascalrascal : Triple Frontier, Cal has so many good Frankie one shots it was hard to pick, but this one is sooooo soft. We love Frankie being willing to listen and learn.

Through the Scope by @ssuperficialspacecadett : Triple Frontier, Y'all know I love a traumatized reader learning to heal, but his fic is fantastic bc it's a traumatized reader who has done a lot of the work already and is strong and brave as it is <3 Also, all 4 of the guys are her friends now which is the best way to have a fic

Thank you all soooooo much for all these amazing fics and for a great 2023! Well. Not so great, I had terrible time lol but y'all were my solace <3

If you feel so inclined, check out my best of year wrapped for both RomanaRose and Romana-after-dark

I'm not gonna say 2024 is my year, I leanred my lesson XD I am approaching 2024 with RESPECT. It will be the year it is.

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[cufflinks (s.r.)]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Husband! Spencer Reid x Wife! BAU Profiler! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 1.4K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Spencer and a wedding ring never fit to you. The idea of marriage fit perfectly with him, but the idea of a band around his finger? No way. Instead, you both settled on cufflinks, both engraved with your initials and the latitude and longitude lines of where you both tied the knot. It wasn’t obvious though, not until a serial killer pointed it out.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Cursing & foul language || mentions of sexual assault – not specific – please be wary || Y/F/I means your first initial idek || killer threatens Spencer through you || Spencer gets violent and angry || I think that’s it, let me know if you think any should be added!! ||

You didn’t have a problem with Spencer not wearing a ring, not one bit. He was always extremely open about how he rejected other women, always saying, ‘I’m married.’ to anyone who ever said anything to him. Besides, whoever paid enough attention could see how much he not only stared at you, but the way his hand would graze your waist when he went around you to write or pin something on the board.

At home or in public that was extremely far from the world of the BAU, he would wear a ring, the gold one engraved with the same thing – your initials, the lines of latitude and longitude, and as a bonus because it didn’t fit on the cufflinks, a line from your favorite poem engraved on the inner band.

On yours, besides the white gold band and your favorite gemstone encircled with diamonds, it had his favorite poem line engraved in the inner band as well. It was a later addition to your wedding ring, after your five year anniversary where he stole it and got it engraved for you.

This case though was different.

The killer was easily seen as misogynistic, especially in the way that he killed the women he did, specifically targeting married women and killing them after sexually assaulting them and leaving them in their bed before their husband woke up, or if he was gone.

This posed only one question – who was going to interview him?

There were different ways to go about this, you and JJ could go in as strong married women and tease him, or Matt and Spencer could go in as married men.

“JJ, Y/N – get ready to go in,” Emily says, inhaling as she stared at the man staring mindlessly at the two way glass. “We need to find out where Lucy is.”

“Got it,” you say, rubbing your wedding ring as you look over at JJ. “Ready?”

“Always,” she smiled, offering her hand for a fist bump before Spencer shook his head.

“I’ll go in.”

“What?” Emily paused, shaking her head. “No, you’re not-”

Spencer walked in before she could say anything else, quickly ordering Matt to follow him in as Spencer sat down in front of Ryan, the man they profiled to have been murdering these women after he killed his wife who cheated on him with his best friend, and best man at their wedding. Ryan’s eyes catch on Spencer who sat down in front of him, Matt standing and leaning against the two sided mirror.

“It was Agent Reid, correct-”

“Dr. Dr. Reid,” Spencer corrected, quickly fixing his cufflinks as Ryan’s eyes flashed to Matt and he smiled.

“My apologies. Dr. Reid. So, I see why they sent this… man in here, that shiny silver band on his finger, trying to intimidate me,” he moved to look at Reid. “But you… you don’t show obvious signs of being married.”

Spencer doesn’t break eye contact or move, that he could tell at least. “I’m not.”

Ryan smiles. “What’s her name?”

“Who’s name?”

“Your wife’s.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“I don’t know if she’d like you rejecting the fact that you're married,” Ryan mocked him, copying his straightened form and interlacing his fingers. “Is she an agent?”

“How did it feel when your wife cheated on you with your best friend?” Reid’s question made Ryan’s face flash, Matt straightening slightly. “Must’ve hurt.”

“Not really.”

“Oh no? It didn’t hurt you enough to kill not only her but also your best friend and five other women who you thought resembled her? Women who were faithful to their husbands?” Reid leaned forward. “Unlike yours?”

Ryan swallowed. “None of them were faithful.”

“How so?” Matt finally spoke, Ryan smiling slightly.

“Does her name start with… Y/F/I?” Ryan tilted his head. “Was R the original first letter of her last name or did you change it?”

Reid tried not to react. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not married.”

“Is she an agent?”

“I’m not married.”

“Was she that H/C agent? She looks like my ex, I saw it the moment she came in busting down that door. It was kind of hot,” Ryan smirked, leaning forward. “Is she like that in bed, Dr. Reid? Or is she more submissive? You don’t look like the kind of guy that takes control, but damn would it be nice to see her beg-”

“The only thing that you’re going to hear begging is your own voice in prison when every man in there is passing you around like a toy,” Reid responded, tilting his head slightly. “Do you know where rapists stand on the totem pole, don’t you? And where you’re going… you’re going to be one of their bitches.”

Ryan’s smile falters as Reid smiles, tilting his head. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Who’s Lucy? I’m focused on that wifey of yours.”

“Could it be where you and your wife got married?” Reid asked, watching as Ryan’s eye twitched. That wasn’t hard.

Matt was already walking out as Spencer started to stand, Ryan leaning back in his chair. “Is your wife faithful, Dr. Reid?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid responded, glaring. He knew you were faithful, going on being married almost eight years, sticking it out when he was arrested and through worse things like his addiction. “Those who cheat aren’t built for a relationship.”

“If she cheated, wouldn’t you kill her?!” Ryan sat up, attempting to force his wrists out of the handcuffs. “They were all cheaters, all of them!”

“My wife would never cheat.” Reid finally let the facade crack, slamming his hands down onto the desk. “Just because a woman cheated on a stupid, narcissistic, misogynistic man like you!”

“I should’ve hunted her first,” Ryan snarled, glaring up at Reid as he laughed. “Shoulda gone for the pretty wife of Dr. Reid-”

Reid’s actions were quick, his hand flying forward to slam Ryan’s face into the metal table, repeatedly bashing him into the table before Alvez came running in, wrapping his arms around Reid’s waist and dragging him out of the room.

“Reid, Reid!” You rushed forward, quickly running forward to cup his face. “Spence, baby, calm down. Calm down.”

It was as though you snapped him out of a trance, his body going stiff as your hands softly held his face, thumbs softly rubbing along his skin as you looked back at Luke. “Thank you, Luke.”

Luke let him go as you quickly hold Spencer’s shoulder, pushing your hands down his arms to hold his hands and pull him to one of the private rooms, cupping his face as he immediately leaned into your chest. He inhaled sharply as he kissed your neck. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I am so so sorry. I hated… I hated thinking of you with him… him touching you, anyone touching you other than me.”

“No one will,” you whisper back, pulling away to cup his face once again and press a firm kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Spencer Reid. Forever and always, no matter what. You see this ring? I’m yours.”

He inhaled, nodding as he leaned forward to kiss you softly, humming. “I think… I want a ring instead of cufflinks.”

His words make you giggle, shaking your head. “You sure? I can get you more cufflinks.”

He laughed slightly, nodding. “Okay. I like cufflinks.”

“Then cufflinks you shall have, my love. And I’ll add something to that ring you have at home, too.”

He smiled, nodding as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. Reid.”

You giggled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips. “You better.”

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© asterias-record-shop

[longing-for-rain]

“There’s no way that person could be a predator. They’re so kind and helpful and give so much to the community! You must just be lying to tear them down!”

Let me tell you about Mr. Larry, the old band director when I was in high school.

That’s not his real name, but you get the idea. Everyone loved Mr. Larry. He was that fun, quirky teacher that all the students loved. He talked about how much he loved his wife and showed the class pictures of his cats. He danced on a busy street corner dressed as a pizza slice to cheer on students doing the charity run. He was very understanding and easygoing and always took that extra step to help a student who was struggling.

But there were always rumors about Mr. Larry. A few girls over the years had reported inappropriate incidents with Mr. Larry. Nobody believed them. He was so nice and so charitable. How could Mr. Larry possibly be *that* type of person? He must not have meant what he did. Maybe those girls just misunderstood. Or maybe they were just lying.

There was no evidence, after all, so the rumors stayed rumors. It was easy to accept, that way. Nobody wanted to believe Mr. Larry was capable of such things. What they didn’t know was the story of the girl who deleted all of her texts with him because she was afraid she’d get in trouble if her parents saw them, or the girl who didn’t realize what she’d experienced was sexual abuse until it was too late.

Mr. Larry was the same way for years. Nobody believed the rumors until he was arrested and put on the sex offender registry after one girl finally managed to prove her abuse to authorities.

But do you think it ended there?

Even after Mr. Larry was found guilty, so many people refused to believe it. His coworkers, students, parents. Instead of accepting that predators are capable of hiding behind a kind and benevolent persona, they instead spun a narrative in which that teenage girl was purposely seducing Mr. Larry, that it wasn’t really his fault. They called his sexual assault and grooming of this girl a mistake and tried pinning the majority of the blame on her. Because Mr. Larry was just so good and nice. Someone like him could never be a predator.

There are a lot of Mr. Larrys out there. Mr. Larry could be a teacher, a coach, your coworker, your next door neighbor, anyone. On the internet—because this pattern is extremely common online too—Mr. Larry could manifest as that chill person in your DMs, your “fandom mom,” etc.

Don’t brush off a warning because someone was nice to you. Remember Mr. Larry. He got away with it for so long because he built himself the reputation of a kindly and generous father figure. But he knew exactly what he was doing. Don’t fall for it.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi, I hope this isn't too heavy for an anon ask, but I truly don't know where else to ask this

when i saw your thread about child sex ed, I just wondered... did i accidentally assault my brother???

so for some context I was raped/CSA'd sometime before the age of 11 and it's fucked up my perception of what's considered appropriate. when we were little, my brother who is very close in age to me and I used to have a game of "going to the doctor" where we would go in the bathroom and just look at each other's bodies (in a nonsexual way, normal behavior for curious kids). the part that gets me is that I remember trying to get him to stick his fingers in my holes -- to his credit he always refused and I never physically forced him to do anything, but in retrospect the thought just makes me ill

and before you ask, yes, our sex ed as children was very spotty and pretty much ended at how babies are made

hi anon,

this is a heavy one, and I'm sorry you've been feeling gross about this.

for what it's worth, I don't think anything you're describing is inappropriate or particularly unusual. as you said, it's very normal for young children to examine each other's bodies. this is a very developmentally normal curiosity to have, especially between children who have noticed that their body parts look different. that can include exploring bodily cavities, and there's nothing inherently harmful or abusive about that. some years ago Lena Dunham got BLASTED as a child abuser for talking about looking at her baby sibling's vulva in her memoir, and that made me incredibly mad. Lena Dunham wasn't molesting her sibling; she was a curious child and people using completely ordinary childhood activities to call her a pedophile just because she's annoying fucking sucks.

listen. caveat: not all instances of children taking an interest in each other's bodies is harmless. molestation can very much occur between siblings, and cause lasting trauma. okay? that's a real thing. your fears are not baseless.

but it sounds like you and your brother were both engaging in consensual play and you didn't force the issue when he didn't want to digitally penetrate you. unless you feel like dredging the issue up with your brother, or he wants to bring it up and/or is exhibiting any signs of lasting sexual trauma, I think you are probably safe to assume that you didn't do any lasting harm.

it's understandable to have the ick about it now as an adult, with greater context. and it's very normal to be cautious and worried that you may have hurt your brother unintentionally. but please try not to be too hard on yourself about this. you were a kid doing things kids do. your intentions were not malicious, and being a kid unknowingly doing something that *might* hurt someone is not the same as being an abuser.

[itsmadamehydra]

Doll Face 2 | Fezco Euphoria

part 1 part 2

Pairing: Fezco x Latina!Mouse sister! reader

Summary: Mouse's sister was an excellent girl, a good student even, until life happened and she had to leave every dream behind. A particular friend was left behind too in the process. Years later, they meet again, but they aren't the kids they once used to be.

Warnings: 3k+ words, mouse sister, drug life, language, non-desired-sexual situations, sexual assault, forced sexual labor, exploitation of young girl, abuse, abusive household, vulnerable situations.

A/N: So happy to keep going with this story! Thank you for those who ask or wanted a part 2! Hope you enjoy it! If anyone thinks any other warning should be included please let me know, thank you!

Fuck

No

Shit

Your body went cold. You had stopped moving and just stared at him, eyes locked. He kept an unfazed look, just looking up at you with his drowsy eyes. He wanted to know, he needed to know if you were his doll face. The little girl he had befriended all those years ago.

You regained your autonomy over your body and resumed your movements, praying that no one had heard or gotten suspicious.

“Doll face? You know sweetcheeks, carrot boy?”

Shit

Fuck

You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t.

“Nah, just confused her face.”

“She is a good one, isn't she?" You heard him say again. The redhead nodded slowly.

“Yeh, she is.”

Mouse’s laughter reverb over the place, making you feel the pressure of not stopping. Not looking at him.

“Yeah, she is a sweet one,” he took a sip of beer, “I promise, you can’t even imagine the number of guys that have cum in that same seat, my man…little sweetcheeks here making them cum with just a dance!”

Your jaw clenched, wanting him to stop talking about you like that. It was already an unpleasant enough experience to live as for to relieve it by word. Although the man beneath you seemed to not care at all.

He looked past your face and opened a beer from the many near. Raising his brows, making him seem like he couldn’t believe Mouse’s words.

“Really?” lacing his tone with fake astonishment.

“Yeah! Word is, little sissy here gives the best head around the neighborhood,” he comes near you, slapping one of your ass cheeks.

You had to grip the redhead's shoulders to prevent you from shuddering.

Please stop talking. You kept repeating in your head, with your eyes closed. Desiring to disappear from the embarrassment and just not having to face the look on the man’s face beneath you.

It wasn’t like you liked to do that. You just had to. A job is a job. Those words kept you going and stopped you from falling apart. 

At first, you had managed to keep up with your weekly quotas by just dancing, but when word got around, Mouse decided to higher his commission. Forcing you to look for more ways to make money.

And any time you tried to get a job that didn’t involve this word, your brother was back at you with threats and violence. You had tried so many times before, you ever gave your first blow job and had some bills thrown at your face.

You had felt disgusted with yourself and scrubbed your tongue. After that, you brushed your teeth for eternity. It took you long enough to insert in your head that it was part of your job. That it was just a job.

But word got around. Again. And as always, Mouse found a way to benefit himself. And now he had you dancing for his people and sucking them off. You didn’t even get privacy having to do everything in that same chair.

It was disgusting. It made you cry a lot. And it was something you definitely didn’t want him to know about.

Fez

Your Fezco

Only God knows how hard you prayed for so long for this day. Day, noon, night.

Your imagination had been the only thing that had kept you happy all this time. In the middle of dancing, upstage or private, between jobs, the only thing that kept you going and smiling was thinking about the different scenarios in which you could meet again.

Your favorite one was where you find yourselves at the university. You are walking around, maybe at the start of your first semester there. You are still a little lost and getting used to the installations that it takes you a while to get around.

You had your math class next and were absolutely lost with the indications that the office gave you. So, you asked a group of people sitting at an outside table.

They were friendly, and one of the girls even offered to take you. You thanked them all and left with the girl. And then, she would say something like, “Oh my GOD, you are going to love this class. The teacher assistant is so cute. Everyone loves it just because of him.”

And you wouldn’t believe her, oblivious to what was coming next. But when she left you at the door, and you had chosen your seat, it was going to be his voice that would have made you look up. And there he would have been, being a math teacher assistant. A great one.

Then, you would approach him, he would remember you, of course, and your encounters would increase following that day.

That was your favorite scenario because it just seemed right. It felt right. That was how life should have been for both of you.

But it never occurred, and you were stuck here. Being pulled by your hair by your brother’s hand brings you back to your reality.

The force that he pulled you with made you moan from the pain.

“Yeah, right," he laughed. “She loves it when you pull her like this, just like the slut she is, right little sissy,” he shoveled your head to the side with force and left the room, probably going to look for someone to deal with him.

Any female who would have been forced to have him couldn't help but make you feel bad.

You felt a soft hand go behind your head, taking it softly and caressing your skull. Fez, oh Fez. Still looking at you with those same eyes. And the same look he always had on for you when you were just kids.

He looked around discreetly, and when he was sure no one was around, he grabbed your hips and stopped you from moving.

You suddenly became shy under his sight and smiled nervously.

“Hi,” you muttered, failing to contain your nervousness and focusing your eyes anywhere else than his face.

Yet, he cradled your face softly. Inciting you to rest your cheeks in his hold, making you feel warm, safe, and delicate.

“My pretty doll face,” he couldn’t believe his eyes, “You were here? All this time? How did I never see you?”

“I keep to myself mostly. When not working or with…Mouse,” you doubt a little at the end. You see his eyes harden at the name.

“What’s he of you?”

You clench your jaw, embarrassed at the situation. At first, you were a little doubtful, but you finally told him, “My brother.”

“No brother should be treating his little sister like that,” his eyes soften at your sight. For him, you seemed fragile due to all the abuse and violence surrounding you, and it was wrong. You had always been full of confidence in yourself. You never seemed scared and always smiled at the world. That was you, he remembered, the little girl that had been the focal source of inspiration all this time.

He wanted you to become her again, your true self. Not what these people wanted and were forcing you to be; scared and oppressed, abused.

“Women should be protected, adored. No matter their job choice or anything,” he murmured against your forehead, leaving his lips pressed, trying to comfort you without being too excessive with his touch.

But you wanted a hug, you caved touch from him. After all these years without any glimpse of gentleness, you had forgotten what it felt to be warm.

Slowly, your arms went around his middle, and he secured you between his arms, eyes closed by both parts. Just two people savoring the moment.

“Why have you not you left,”

“I can’t. I’ve tried so many times,” you felt the tears starting to form.

He strokes your hair and kisses your head crown.

"Whenever you pack your things and leave, one day. Find milk," he sighs. It's a convenience store. Ask for me if I'm not in there. Tell them that I sent you.

“Fezco, you don’t have to,”

“Too bad, I want to,” he smiled at you.

“Fezco,” you said softly.

“I want to, doll face. Okay?”

“Okay,” you rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Now this has "Whenever you pack your things and depart, one day. Find milk," he sighs. It's a convenience store. Ask for me if I'm not in there. Tell them that I sent you.

Now this has effortlessly turned into your favorite memory.

Sadly, all good things have to end, and this moment too.

“I have to go, little girl,” he murmured against your hair.

“Just…5 minutes more, please?” 

“I wish, but not wanna risk getting someone mad at you,” he said as his arms prepared to let you go, but you snuggled closer into his chest.

“I don’t want to let you go,” you tighten your grip on him.

He laughs softly while exhaling. You are not letting me go, ma." He kisses the crown of your head, saying, "We'll be together again. Where're you working at, pretty girl?"

You press your lips together in a tight line before you let out a sigh, “At the neighborhood’s strip club.”

“Alright, now I know where to find you,”

“We’re not losing contact anymore?”

He exaggerates his hold on you while kissing your crown, saying, "No more, pretty one," which causes you to chuckle. "You won't be free of me, you hear me? I have to give this gorgeous one a lot of visits.

You nod, euphoric by his words. But wasn't enough for him. He wanted to hear you say yes and laugh. For you, let yourself be carefree for a second.

He moves his lips down to your ear and repeats his question with a funny tone, “You hear me, ma? You hear me!?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do!” you laugh, looking up at him, just for him to be already staring back at you with his hooded eyes and a cute smile. He kissed your forehead one last time before getting up with you still in his arms and letting you down in the chair gently.

He strokes your face, taking some strands off and tucking them behind your ears. You smiled at him, and he had never stopped doing so. He walked backward for most of the footpath until he closed that door, and you were back.

Aware of your surroundings, feeling the disgust coming back and curling up on the chair, starting to count to 10, trying to control your breaths.

Nights and days went by, and you had to keep up with your life. Your work and your dancing. But you couldn’t help feeling some sort of hope filling you. You felt motivated for a better future. That there might be a future out there after all.

You felt yourself changing and even started dancing in between your dances. It felt unbelievable how powerful a moment can become, no matter how short.

Your shift had ended, and you were putting away your things in your bag when one of the security guys entered the room. You side-eye him, “You want to head? If you do, the price went up.”

“Your brother’s guy is here. They are waiting for you. Outside.” he gruffed, leaving just as he entered.

You froze. The only time this happens is when your payment is due. And you were not due until the end of the week. You walk through the people until going through the back door and waving goodbye to the early morning shift guys.

You kept your head down, walking silently and with an iron grip over your bag. You recognize the man standing out of the vehicle, one of your brother's buddies.

He opens the door without making a sound, giving each other a nod, closing it after you. You stare at him through the tinted glass. The car was empty beside your brother’s presence beside you.

“I’m not due,” you muttered.

“Well, little sissy. You know what happens to people who earn more than they deserve?” He pulls out a blunt and inhales a long puff before filling the car with smoke. You shook your head.

“Their payment goes up,” he releases smoke. Right to your face, making you hold your breath by reflex.

“I don’t have more money, Mouse.” you try to reason, “Between you and my employer, I barely have any more money left.”

He chuckles breathlessly, "Heard your blowie price went up. Who knows? 'Might be the time you start using your pussy. I know a few who would pay big grand for a taste."

“I’m not doing that,” your hand grips the seat.

“Well, I tried. Now pay, or you’ll be working with a bruised eye.”

“I don’t have any money, Mouse.”

“What about tips?” 

In my locker, safe from any trash like you.

“Boss keeps them,”

He sits still for a few seconds with the blunt between his lips.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he grabs a fist of your hair, pulling from it, making you look at the car’s ceiling, hurting your neck by the sudden movement.

You moan in pain, and he grabs you in a chokehold, “Careful there, honey. My buddies here might think you like that and wanna try doing it themselves.”

“You wouldn’t”

He yells out a name and yanks down your strapless top with a questioning, "You sure?" Someone unlocks a door. "Miralas. A que no son bonitas? Tocalas, she likes it." Mouse plays with and massages your boobs while encouraging his buddy to do the same. The hands then shift shortly after. (Look at them. Aren't they lovely? Touch them)

The guy starts by playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting them. Your brother pulls your hair, making you moan in pain again.

“You hear that, bro? Told you she likes it,” he laughs.

You feel the tears forming in your eyes. This had never happened before. You had never felt so vulnerable. Feeling unable to move or even react to any slight movement. Your grip is stuck on the leather seat. And your breathing turned erratic.

You notice the guy taking his finger into his mouth and then back at your nipples, wetting them. Your body shakes in fear and disgust. You pray for everything to stop or for you to just black out and not remember anything.

“They feel nice, bossman.”

His hand moves down, rubbing your genitalia, and says, "Let me tell you what, in a few days, this pussy could be all yours." He licks your neck, "Think of it as a present from me, a sneak peek before it goes on sale, huh? What do you think, little sissy?"

You were going to vomit. You could feel it coming. Your body was sweating cold, the ringing in your ears overpowering his words. You felt as if you were out of your body, being able to see everything happening to your body as if you were a viewer.

It was as if your mind and body had separated from one another. Your insides were shrinking by the feeling of their wandering hands.

Please stop.

Jesus Christ, you are my brother.

Please stop.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Help, please, someone. 

God, please listen. Please.

The man had taken over your brother's hand, placing it down on you, palming you, tracing your lips with his middle finger.

The tears started to drop. You hadn’t even noticed until they started laughing loudly about it.

“Mouse, that you, my man?” 

Your eyes move, looking for the voice owner. Locating a shadow hovering over your brother's side, opening the door.

“Carrot boy! What you doing ‘ere?” Fez looked past him, focusing on you and your position. His heart dropped. Having to see you like that was not pleasant. It took every ounce of his willpower to not take you right there and run away and leave everything behind.

He had to take you out of that situation and fast.

“Sweetcheeks here left me desiring for more, came ‘round looking to test if her sucking skills are good as they say,” he faked a smile. “But with that view. I’ll pay anything for a titty fuck, giving me a hard-on,” he chuckles, grabbing his crotch area

Mouse palms his shoulder laughing. “I like this boy! He just understands,” he looks over at the dude over you, “Take your hands off. She’s about to get real busy.”

Mouse grabs you from the back of your neck and throws you at Fez, who immediately cradles your body, trying to give you safety.

“Take her to my crib when you finish with her, money in hand, carrot boy.”

“Don’t be up waiting for ‘er! Gotta make that money worth it. If you know what I mean,” Mouse nods at his words smiley. And looks for something in his pocket, giving it to him.

“Just give her some if she fights. You know how it is.”

“As long as she’s not a spitter,” he takes the bag from him and waves them goodbye. Waiting for them to be out of sight before he could hug you properly.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck that motherfucker,” he curses against your hair, kissing it between words, “I’ve got to get you out of there, ma.”

You felt something in you click with those words, making you return from the trance you had entered.

You started crying almost immediately, sobbing -hard- a river flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t even care about being half naked in a parking lot; if Fez could feel you up, you just cared about the warmth that hugged you. 

Your hands held on tight to his shirt, taking the fabric in a fist, unable to stay still in that hug. Grabbing him by the shoulders and neck, pulling his cloth. You wanted comfort.

Fezco could feel the tears trespassing his shirt, the buggers coming out onto his shirt. You're sobbing, making him feel tears forming in his own eyes.

He made a promise to himself that night, a vow. He would become your protector and do whatever it took to take you out of there and ensure you never return.

“Just wait a little more, and we’ll be together before you know it,” he kisses your tears, and you nod wanting to believe his words.

@myamamahdi @starzsworldsblog @billyhargrovesprincess @itzlochnessie @ethereallocs <3