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ON AN AUGUST night in 2003, a young woman who went by the name Paulina sank into the sofa of her modest, rented apartment, opened up her laptop, and began talking about sex with a man she’d recently met in a Yahoo chat group. His name was Stephen Bolen. His first communications had been terse, but he soon warmed to Paulina. It didn’t take long for both of them to begin to open up.

Paulina had told Bolen she lived in the Atlanta area, that she had a three-year-old daughter, that her daughter’s father was no longer in the picture. Soon, she was sharing more intimate details: what it was like growing up a skinny white girl in a rough neighborhood outside of D.C.; how her dad, a Marine, had died by suicide two weeks before she was born; how her mom had been emotionally and physically abusive, and had never really shown her love. How she’d had a sexual relationship with her stepfather.

Paulina would put her daughter to bed and then she and Bolen would chat throughout the night, over Yahoo and sometimes on the phone. The back-and-forth could feel like dating, but with an added element of danger and risk: Both Paulina and Bolen knew they were tiptoeing up to a line to see if they trusted each other enough to cross it. It could take a while to figure that out.

Eventually, Bolen asked Paulina to send pictures of her daughter, and she agreed to do so, though the ones she’d shared were chaste — the little girl clothed and her face turned away from the camera or obscured behind an untamable halo of blond curls. After seeing the pictures, Bolen asked to meet. While a lot of the men Paulina had encountered in chatrooms like “Sex With Younger” just wanted to trade images and videos of children, to expand their illicit collections, Bolen was a “traveler,” someone looking to act upon his obsessions.

On Sept. 17, just as they’d arranged, Paulina sat on a bench outside Perimeter Mall with a stroller parked in front of her, scanning the parking lot nervously. Part of her hoped Bolen wouldn’t show. When he did, she could see he was handsome, a preppy guy in a pink polo shirt and khakis. “Paulina?” he asked eagerly. She nodded. As he smiled and pulled back the blanket draped across the stroller, he found himself surrounded, handcuffs slipped around his wrists.

“Paulina” watched his face fall, his confusion giving way to distress as FBI agents took him into custody. It was her first undercover arrest. It would be the first of many.

[long read]

IF ONE WANTED to hide in plain sight, one could do no better than the tidy, suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of St. Louis, where FBI Special Agent Nikki Badolato now resides. The well-tended, two-story homes are so pleasantly indistinct that I could hardly tell you what hers looks like, even if it were safe for me to do so, which it is not. Suffice to say that Midwestern comfort and conformity unspool around every gently winding curve. Here Badolato has raised her two children, a daughter who is now in college and a son who is a junior at a local high school. When planning a neighborhood scavenger hunt or tending the community garden, Badolato does not often mention her many years as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force, a joint effort between the feds and local law enforcement that targets some of the country’s most heinous crimes. Open a cabinet in her kitchen, however, and a government-issued Glock 42 can be found stowed away between the vitamins and mixing bowls.

On a sunny morning this past October, Badolato sat at her dining room table, scrapbooks and albums spread out before her on the dark wood. There was the acceptance letter she’d received from the bureau the spring of her senior year of high school, after a representative had shown up to administer a test in the typewriting room. “I chose to wear a red dress and red heels,” she says of her first day as an FBI mail clerk, two weeks after her 18th birthday. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I guess maybe I was trying to go in bold?” She pauses at a picture of herself on the gun range at Quantico almost 10 years later, her shoulders squared and her caramel hair pulled back into a ponytail as she fires off rounds. By then, she’d married a man she met just after high school, had a little girl, completed college at night, and been accepted into agent training in the heady days after 9/11. She’d seen her first dead body only a few weeks into the job, after the pursuit of a bank robber ended with a shootout in a Walmart. When Badolato got to the scene, the body was still warm, and the perp’s head was resting on a bag of cookies. “It was surreal,” she says. “How many times have you been in a Walmart and walked down Aisle 4, not really expecting there to be a dead person with his head lying on a bag of Chips Ahoy?”

Badolato wasn’t deterred. She felt like the bureau saved her, plucked her out of a shitty home life, and gave her prospects and purpose. As a new agent, she was intent on proving herself worthy. “My training agent told me, ‘You know, Nikki, it’s a marathon, not a sprint,’ ” she says. “I was like, ‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.’ ” She turned a few pages to show a picture of the 391 kilos of cocaine and 140 pounds of meth she’d recovered on a single raid during a stint with a cartel squad, then pointed out another in which she poses with a five-year-old child she’d rescued, the little girl’s hair cut short because the kidnapper had wanted her to look like a boy. But the keepsake she really wants to find is the card that Bolen’s wife had pressed into her hand at his sentencing, the one with the picture of their children — a blond girl of about three years and a tiny baby — and the words “These are the faces of the children you protect each day.” Bolen’s wife had been the only one she’d ever encountered who had lobbied for her husband to receive the maximum sentence. Some wives accused the FBI of planting evidence inside computers. Most seemed intent on clinging to their delusions. (Attempts to reach Bolen for comment were unsuccessful.)

“Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It is happening all the time.”

Which, Badolato has come to understand, is the way it goes with child trafficking and sexual abuse. She had invited me into her home — had agreed to speak on the record about her decades-long career working undercover — because when it comes to the crimes she’s spent her career fighting, she has had enough of the delusions people are under. She’s had enough of the way movies like Sound of Freedom both glamorize and trivialize the work she and her colleagues do, enough of the idea that swashbuckling white men burst through doors and rescue trafficked children with a Bible in one hand and a firearm in the other, enough of conspiracy theories about Hollywood and Washington that detract from the real root causes of why children are trafficked and abused. “Human trafficking is not the movie Pretty Woman — the girl doesn’t get the guy — and it’s not the movie Taken, where people are kidnapped in a foreign country and sold on the black market, or shipped in a container across the world,” one of the detectives who worked on Badolato’s task force tells me. “I’m not saying that doesn’t ever happen, but it’s not what we’re seeing.”

What they are seeing is a lot more insidious and a lot more homegrown. A report released in 2018 by the State Department ranked the U.S. as one of the worst countries in the world for human trafficking. While the Department of Justice has estimated that between 14,500 and 17,500 foreign nationals are trafficked into this country every year, this number pales in comparison to the number of American minors who are trafficked within it: A 2009 Department of Health and Human Services review of human trafficking into and within the United States found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that between 244,000 and 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked specifically in the sex industry. Heartbreakingly, many of these children are victimized not by strangers who’ve abducted them from mall parking lots but rather by people they know and trust: Studies have found that as much as 44 percent of victims are trafficked by family members, most often parents (and not infrequently parents who were trafficked themselves). Between 2011 and 2020, there was an 84 percent increase in the number of people prosecuted for a federal human-trafficking offense. Of the defendants charged in 2020, 92 percent were male, 63 percent were white, 66 percent had no prior convictions, and 95 percent were U.S. citizens.

Badolato started her career as an FBI agent in some of the earliest days that children could be bought, sold, and traded online. As the internet-porn industry mushroomed, its most lucrative branch turned out to be that of child sexual-abuse materials (the term “child pornography” is no longer used by those in the field, as it implies consent). And as demand for these images increased, so did the abuse that led to their creation.

In 2003, just a few months after Badolato graduated from Quantico, a Crimes Against Children squad was formed in the Atlanta office where she’d been stationed. By then, the FBI was starting to get a handle on the extent of the problem — if not exactly what to do about it. At a weeklong training in Baltimore, Badolato was given a tour of the darkest underbelly of fetish chat groups and then instructed to figure out how to infiltrate. “Everyone was a little nervous,” she explains of the directive. “It was a process, a direction that was new.” Agents were told that they would need to come up with a “persona” and a “story,” and that they would likely have to provide images of children to “prove” they had a minor on offer. They were also told that they could use images of their own children, if they were comfortable doing so (the FBI no longer endorses this policy).

Badolato’s unit with a kidnapping victim after her recovery in 2011. A Health and Human Services review found that roughly 199,000 American minors are sexually exploited each year, and that as many as 325,000 American youths are considered to be at risk of being trafficked in the sex industry.

Badolato developed “Paulina” based on her understanding that any persona would need to share most of her own backstory and traits. “That’s the only way you can really do undercover work,” Badolato says. “People can tell the sincerity in what you’re saying, so there has to be a level of genuineness, but then you just add this criminal element to it.” Most of the things Badolato had told Bolen were true: where she was from, her family background, the monstrousness of her mother, a woman who she says would pass out cigarettes and beers to Badolato’s 13-year-old friends in a state of manic permissiveness one minute and fly into a violent rage about a piece of lint on the floor the next. (Badolato’s mother declined to comment for this article, but a childhood friend corroborated Badolato’s account.) It was true that growing up in an unstable home with a string of stepdads, she had never really felt loved, true that she had divorced her first husband, true that she was raising their three-year-old daughter on her own. The only thing that wasn’t true was her tale of being molested, her initiation into the “lifestyle” — to use the chatroom parlance — that Paulina said she now wanted for her daughter. As Badolato had familiarized herself with the language and behaviors of the chatrooms, she’d honed that added criminal element, imagining what psychological conditions might believably lead a parent to traffic their own child and how those conditions could be grafted onto her real life story. She already had a history of abuse; it was not hard to extrapolate to a fictional stepfather who had seemed to provide a gentle counterpoint, showing her love and making her feel special when no one else had, even if others couldn’t understand. From there, it was easy to convince the chatroom participants that she shared their belief — or justification — that most people had it all wrong and that “child love” was natural, and could even be beneficial for the child.

Badolato estimates that she has arrested more than a thousand people; not one of those arrests has failed to end in a conviction. She didn’t know until she was in the thick of it that most agents refuse this sort of work, that most can’t even pretend to forge a relationship with someone looking to victimize a child. But she could. “Paulina,” she points out, is not a name she chose at random; it’s similar to her own mother’s name. Badolato says she had grown up learning to compartmentalize for the sake of her own emotional survival. She’d perfected the art of engaging with someone whose actions she couldn’t stand. Doing this work had felt like a way of taking her trauma and putting it to good use, of leveraging her past as a safeguard against her daughter’s and other children’s futures.

Of course there were moments that were hard to take — when suspects mentioned which brands of lubrication were best or whether or not a parent might hold a child down. There were times when she knew that even talking about these things was a turn-on for these men, times when the conversations made her nauseous, times when she’d lie awake all night or play back a recording and think, “Holy shit, I listened to this? I said these words?” But she kept faith in the mission. She reminded herself that the pictures she sent of her daughter — the beautiful, little girl sleeping in the next room — did not represent a real child on offer. “I was thinking, ‘If I send this obscure picture of my daughter and he acts on it, then he’s never going to harm my daughter or anybody else’s,’ ” Badolato says now. “I was presenting a fake girl to save a real one.”

KYLE PARKS SEEMED to think he could get away with anything. He seemed to think, for instance, that he could get away with running a brothel, a 1-900 sex line, and a housecleaning company out of the same Columbus, Ohio, office park and under the same oxy-moronic name, XXXREC and Hygiene Services. He seemed to think he could invite one young woman and five teenagers (four of whom he had only just met) on a road trip to Florida, but instead deposit them in two rooms of a Red Roof Inn in St. Charles, Missouri. When they piled out of the minivan — high on the drugs he’d given them — saw snow falling and asked to be taken home, he thought he could make a little money off them first. All it took was a few ads in Backpage — the Craigslist of sex advertisements — and men began showing up.

Even after things started going south for him, Parks couldn’t fathom that he wouldn’t prevail. When someone alerted law enforcement as to what was going on, Parks (who, according to legal documents, had been out getting food when the police showed up) burst into the precinct the next morning looking to bail his “friend” out. When questioned about the 88 condoms found in the back of his van, he said they had been prescribed to him by a doctor. After being taken into custody, he protested that he was being set up. Most people would have cut their losses and pleaded guilty, but not Parks. He thought he could take his case to court and win.

And it wasn’t impossible to imagine that he might. Badolato knew that even the tightest cases could go sideways when put before 12 people who would inevitably enter the courtroom with a cinematic sense of what sex trafficking was supposed to be. In fact, it wasn’t just the jury that Badolato knew she would need to convince; it was also often the victims themselves, young people who had internalized the exact same misconceptions about trafficking that the jury had — along with any number of other judgments society had thrown their way — and who were loath to submit themselves to a courtroom full of more judgment.

Of all of Parks’ underage victims, the hardest to pin down had been a 17-year-old we’ll call Sierra. Once she returned to Columbus, Sierra seemed to basically disappear. Calls to her mother’s number went unanswered. When one of the other victims managed to track her down in December 2016, a month before the case was to go to trial, Sierra agreed to meet Badolato on a blighted Columbus block with a string of dilapidated homes, climbing into the bureau’s Chevy Malibu with matted hair, dirty clothes, and a wary expression.

By this time, Badolato had remarried, had a second child, relocated to St. Louis, and taken over as head of the Child Exploitation Joint Task Force, which had become one of the most productive FBI teams in the country in terms of arrests and convictions. Meanwhile, as the internet streamlined the process of buying or selling any good or service, trafficking had become one of the fastest-growing criminal enterprises, estimated by the Department of Homeland Security to bring in $150 billion globally and considered by many criminals to be a superior business model: If caught, the sentences were often lighter than those for peddling drugs; and unlike crack or heroin, the same product could be “used” again and again and again.

Badolato taught her team of 20 how to do the online undercover work she’d trailblazed in Atlanta, tracking the movements of child-abuse material through the online underworld and then prosecuting those who distributed and produced it. Her new squad also initiated her in the type of undercover work it had been doing before her arrival: covert sting operations in which a detective would pose as a john, set up a “date,” and then meet said date in a hotel room fitted out with hidden recording devices while, in the next room over, a taskforce team listened in, waiting for the code word that would let them know that enough evidence had been gathered for them to swoop in and shut the op down. This had proved a very effective technique for getting convictions, but Badolato’s arrival coincided with both a growing sentiment that consensual sex work had been over-criminalized and an increasing awareness that what looked like consensual sex work might actually be trafficking, no matter what the “date” professed in that hotel room.

Badolato has a tendency to say aloud the things she notices — about you, about others, about situations — observations that are not at all unkind but are perceptive enough that most people would keep them to themselves. She points out when someone deflects, and she has a sharp eye for defense mechanisms. She once casually mentions my tendency to mirror other people’s vocal and speech patterns. She is not shy about bringing up the emotional and physical abuse she says she experienced as a child, and she is quick to comment when someone is making excuses for someone else’s behavior. It was soon clear to her colleagues that Badolato brought a trauma-informed mentality to the work, a tendency to look beyond what someone was doing and instead try to parse why they were doing it. And she was relentless: While some squads did one or two trafficking sting ops a year, her team was doing four or five a month. In addition to the hotel rooms reserved for the john and the team, they would have a social worker set up in a third room, ready to offer services to the victims. They would have lookouts stationed to see who might be dropping the date off. If that date was found to be underage, the case was automatically classified as trafficking. But even if they weren’t, Badolato’s team was primed to get to the bottom of what was going on, to figure out whether they were being manipulated or coerced, and by whom.

“If I could put my hands on a pimp, that’s what I wanted,” says Jeff Roediger, a St. Louis county detective who was the “john” for many of Badolato’s sting ops and who makes clear that the team was not interested in policing voluntary sex work. “When I had those types of cases, and I knew they were being sincere with me, I wouldn’t book them,” he says. “It was all about talking to the girls. It’s not like in the movies where they come running to you. You know, ‘Thanks, you rescued me!’ It’s not like that. A lot of them try to bullshit you at first — ‘That’s my boyfriend, blah blah blah’— but once I talked to them for a while, they would become more forthcoming.”

Badolato’s unit was one of the first in the country to take on this “progressive and proactive” approach, as she puts it. Soon, St. Louis looked like a sex-trafficking capital — not because it was actually trafficking more victims than other cities but because the task force was so aggressively pursuing those cases, and classifying them as what they were. “I mean, I was working in vice for years,” says Roediger. “Back in the day, it was always ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution,’ ‘prostitution’ — until we started to figure it out a little bit, until we started digging a little deeper.”

Once they did, the task force found that roughly a third of the sex-trafficking victims they recovered were under the age of 17 — and they began to see the reach of the problem. Kids were being trafficked out of every hotel in the area, from the seediest roach motel to the fanciest Ritz-Carlton. They were being trafficked every time of day and by every socioeconomic group (“Before you go do brain surgery, you got to bust a nut real quick,” one underage victim told Badolato of her high-end clientele). Some of the victims were girls. Some were boys. Some were LGBTQ kids who’d been kicked out of their homes. Some were straight cis kids from the suburbs. “I tell people that I could probably name two or three [kids] in the school district they live in that have been trafficked,” Roediger says. “And they just can’t comprehend it.”

“If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work.”

There were kids who were about to age out of foster care (a particularly at-risk group, according to those who work in the field), kids who’d run away, kids who were being sold to pay their family’s rent, or to buy their family member’s drugs. There were kids who’d sit in the hotel room, backpack at their feet, dutifully working on their math homework while agents and social workers tried to figure out what to do with them. Was their home life safe enough that they could be returned to it? Would a residential program take them? Of all the imperfect options, which would make them least likely to be trafficked again?

The one common denominator was this: They all had a vulnerability that could be preyed upon. They all lacked a safety net — societal, familial, emotional, or some combination thereof — that might have broken their fall. Mostly, their stories weren’t dramatic; they were typical American tales of neglect, of abuse doled out casually, of a steady stream of letdowns by people and institutions who should have propped them up. Badolato found that she had a knack for getting them to talk about this, for getting them to open up to her. She didn’t look like an FBI agent — at least not what they’d imagined. She spoke softly, but with authority and a slight vocal fry. And she thinks that, at some level, they could probably sense that she’d once been a vulnerable kid too, that with only a few slightly different twists of fate, she could have become a trafficking victim herself — and that she knew it. “My trauma looks different than theirs, but it’s trauma nonetheless,” she says.

“And I think victims can feel that.”

AS THE TASK force learned more about the psychology of victims, they also learned more about the ways in which their vulnerability was being manipulated, and how those ways were evolving. It was known in law-enforcement circles that once a skilled trafficker set his or her sights on a vulnerable young person, they could be groomed in a matter of days: one day for an introduction, a day or two to make the victim feel special and cared for, and then the day when a “friend” comes over and he needs to be “cared for” as well. Sometimes violence was involved at that point; sometimes drug use was involved throughout. But emotional manipulation was the key element, which is why it was so easy for grooming to move online, for groomers to take advantage of the false senses of connection fostered on social media.

Of the victims who are not being trafficked by family members, the majority are being groomed in this way. “I would say that probably 75 percent of the initial grooming is happening online now,” says Cindy Malott, the director of U.S. Safe Programs at Crisis Aid International. “Recruiters used to have to work really, really hard to get access to kids, but now they’re practically sitting in a child’s bedroom. And kids put everything out there — what’s going on in their life, who they’re angry about, parents are going through a divorce, their insecurities about their body, about themselves, what they do, how they spend their time — so it’s like a gift to these predators.”

The ways to manipulate are legion: Get a kid to send a compromising photo, and she’ll do almost anything to keep you from sending it out to all her Facebook friends; find out a gay kid is still closeted, and the threat of outing him gives you incredible power. And predators aren’t just on Instagram and Snapchat; they lurk in the chat functions of Roblox, Minecraft, Grand Theft Auto. “They’re everywhere,” says Malott. “People think, ‘Oh, I just got to keep my kids away from those porn sites, those horrible places.’ Well, no, predators are gonna go where the kids are.” And once there, they’re going to zero in on the kids who are most vulnerable.

That’s what got to Badolato. In her online undercover work, she’d plumbed the psychology of pedophiles, but now she wasn’t just dealing with suspects; she was spending time with victims and seeing the same vulnerabilities in them that the traffickers had seen: the instability or poverty, the addiction or mental health issues or abuse that had been normalized in their lives long before the traffickers entered them. Sometimes Badolato couldn’t help but feel that all the conspiracies and misconceptions weren’t just a distraction from the truth of trafficking but rather some sick attempt to let society off the hook for trying to solve the much more intractable problems at trafficking’s root.

“People would rather stick their head in the sand than address the real problem, because then you have to face and talk about the societal issues,” she says. “With a movie like Sound of Freedom, it’s like, ‘Oh, this is in a jungle in South America. This isn’t actually in [my neighborhood].’ You know? It’s easier for people to ignore the problem than deal with the issues on a societal level.”

BY THE TIME Badolato was sitting in that Chevy with Sierra, on that blighted Ohio block, she knew that the rate of revictimization for children who are trafficked was as high as 95 percent, according to FBI reports. She knew that 90 percent of sex-trafficking victims have a history of child sexual abuse, that more than 75 percent had lived in foster or adoptive care. She knew that she could arrest one perpetrator, and another would pop up in his place, that she could send one pimp to prison and the same victims would show up to stings some short time later, run by a different crew. She knew that testifying was a way for Sierra to psychologically push back against what had happened to her, and she was right: After the young woman took the stand on Jan. 10, 2017, Parks was found guilty and sentenced to 25 years; while testifying, Sierra had seemed to transform, to channel and embody a sort of empowerment. But Badolato also knew that once her testimony was over, Sierra would go back to that blighted block. She wondered how long that empowerment would last.

She also wondered about her own trajectory, her own ability to continue doing this work. The youngest trafficking victim she’d ever recovered from a sting op — an 11-year-old who’d been recruited through Facebook — had been returned to her family in a house that had no heat (Badolato had used an FBI slush fund to get it turned back on). One did not become immune to the human misery of such things. They compounded, became harder and harder to compartmentalize. “It’s just a combination of all of those years — and it’s all awful,” she says. “But there are particular moments that, for one reason or another, you can’t get out of your head. I just don’t think it’s in human nature to be exposed to that for so long and it not start changing who you are.”

One night, at a restaurant near where Badolato lives, I ask her whether she thinks children are being sex-trafficked right then, in that very moment, in just the mile or two radius around us. She’s quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed downward at her glass of wine. By the time she looks up, her whole body is trembling. “It’s happening right now,” she says quietly. “Right now some little girl is being dropped off in the parking lot of a motel. There are three or four girls holed up in a hotel next to a McDonald’s. It’s not only when we think about it. It is happening all the time. And if I’m just sitting here, present, having dinner, not thinking about it, that means I’m ignoring a problem that I know is real.” Tears stream down her face.

“Many images have never left my mind,” she says. “It’s really hard to have worked your entire life in law enforcement with a lot of child crime victims and be at the end of your career looking at the situation where you realize you can only do so much to make a difference.” Badolato wipes back the tears with the palm of her hand and shudders her head, as if she can shake the thoughts away. “Damn,” she says. “Fuck. I shouldn’t be the one crying. I’m not the victim of this.” The veteran agent steels herself and repeats, “I am not the victim.”

THE HOUSE WHERE Korina Ellison says she was first sex-trafficked no longer exists. It once stood on an unassuming lot in a residential suburb of Portland, Oregon, that stumbles down to the banks of the Willamette River. Now, Ellison can’t quite bring the house’s features to mind. She was so young back then, maybe four or five. There is so much she’s repressed, or only pieced together after the fact. As a child, she wouldn’t have known what she now believes to be true: that her grandmother scored her drugs by offering up her youngest daughter, Ellison’s mom. Or that, once her mom was hooked on the meth cooked by the man who’d lived in that house, she’d known just what to do to get more. But Ellison does remember being inside the house, unclothed. She does remember how the man would touch her.

Her life unspooled from there. Her father died of a heroin overdose when she was six. Her mom lost custody for good. She bounced around foster care, then various residential institutions, then whatever shelter she could find. In the story she tells of how she was sex-trafficked again in her teenage years, there’s no moment of drama, no kidnapping, no clear coercion. There was just a random, rainy afternoon when she had no place to go and was alone in the street and a car pulled up. The man inside took her home with him, fed her, introduced her to his girlfriend. They took her shopping. They let her stay. When men showed up at the home to have sex with the woman, Ellison was invited to watch, but she wasn’t expected to participate — not at first, anyway. According to a statement Ellison later made to law enforcement, she just “realized that people aren’t going to take care of [me] for free.” Soon, the woman was posting Ellison’s services on Backpage — $150 for half an hour, $200 for a full one — and the trio were traveling the Midwest. For a long time, it didn’t even occur to Ellison, then 16, to leave. “Where would I have gone?” she asks. “I’d been missing for over a year. Nobody was looking for me.” When the man told her to call him “Daddy,” she complied.

That was more than a decade ago, near the beginning of Badolato’s tenure as head of the Child Exploitation Task Force. But by 2021, leaving it had seemed a necessary form of self-preservation. One of her last cases had gone well legally: The perp, a retired police officer from California who had produced child sex-abuse materials of three sisters in Manila, had pleaded guilty to such charges when he learned that Badolato had brought the girls to the states to testify against him. But the experience had been emotionally devastating for Badolato, who had wanted the sisters, then 16, 13, and 11, to have memories of the U.S that consisted of more than reliving their trauma in a courtroom. She took them shopping and to the zoo, invited them to her home to have dinner with her own family, saw them slowly start to open up and laugh and behave like the children they were. Then she’d had to put them on a flight back to Manila, back to the aunt who had allowed the man to abuse them and who Badolato had been unable to extradite. Fortunately, she says, their estranged father ended up intervening and taking custody of the girls, but that feeling of futility in the fight lingered.

“I stayed for a little bit longer after that trial, but it really was when I should have been able to look myself in the mirror and say, ‘Nikki, you’re done,’ ” Badolato had told me in St. Louis. “It became clear that I had been doing it too long.” She’d spend the last couple of years working national security, a position without the immediacy of child-exploitation work, but also without the heartache. “If I can be perfectly honest, I truly don’t believe that the FBI realizes what they put their agents through doing that kind of work. I just don’t,” she says.

And yet, here Badolato was in Portland, leading Ellison, now 30, up to her hotel room, telling her about all the announcements she’d heard in the Atlanta airport instructing travelers to be on the lookout for sex trafficking. “It’s like white noise in the background,” she says as Ellison settles into the sofa. “It’s a false sense of doing something to help.”

“Here’s the thing: Nobody knows what to look for,” Ellison agrees.

“And what about the victims who are in that airport, who are walking around and listening?” Badolato asks.

“I wouldn’t have even heard that announcement,” Ellison replies. “Because I didn’t feel like a victim. It goes a lot, lot, lot deeper than anybody realizes.”

That’s what she and Badolato both understand. That’s why they started talking eight months ago. Of all the teenage victims Badolato’s task force recovered, Ellison is one of the few who she knows has permanently extricated herself from being prostituted, though it took years for her to get to that point, years for her to see that what happened to her was not her fault but rather a fault in the system, a fault in many systems over the course of generations. Neither she nor Badolato can fix that.

Yet they can’t help feeling like there’s something they can fix — or at least try to. Under the umbrella of an organization she’s founded called Innocent Warriors, Badolato created a program for schools, instructing educators on the signs that might indicate a student is being trafficked and teaching kids how to avoid getting groomed online, which, she believes, is not about stranger danger but rather an awareness of subtle manipulation. Ellison has been working with trafficked youth through nonprofits like Children of the Night, the residential program where Badolato’s team sent her when she was 17. Together, they’ve been talking about having Ellison help train undercovers who are learning to do trafficking sting ops. They’ve also discussed starting a mentorship program in which children who are still being sex-trafficked are paired with young adults like Ellison who once were, providing a way for victims to begin to envision a different future for themselves and a path toward it even while being prostituted. Such a program may be retroactive rather than proactive, but it would capitalize on Badolato’s and Ellison’s experience and expertise — and it could help in the healing of mentors and mentees alike.

Badolato had traveled to Portland for the two to talk face-to-face about how the program might work. “You have to understand how they’ve been traumatized because sometimes, to a child, relating doesn’t sound like you’re relating. It sounds like you’re pointing out all the bad things in them,” says Ellison from the driver’s seat of her Nissan Pathfinder as she drives Badolato around to show her certain landmarks of her past after she’d left Children of the Night: the bridge she’d slept under for over a year after a boyfriend had gotten her hooked on heroin, the blocks downtown where she’d bounced between a children’s shelter and the needle exchange. It had taken a prison sentence for her to finally break her addiction and commit to a different kind of life, though that evolution had had less to do with not having access to drugs than with seeing her own mother cycle in and out of the same facility — like looking into her own future and witnessing how bleak it would be. Maybe, she thought, she could provide the inverse of that for kids in Innocent Warriors. Maybe she could reverse engineer her own escape.

“I just want to make it very clear that if you were a victim, you are a victim, and just to not have any shame in that,” she tells Badolato as they drive through Portland’s misty streets.

“What I anticipate and hope is that then we get survivors that are like, ‘They get it,’ ” Badolato replies. “And that it opens up doors to help, for people to recognize that there are people who get what’s really going on.”

“It took a really long time for me,” Ellison says of coming to terms with her own victimhood.

“It’s like reworking your thought process about some of those things,” Badolato agrees. “And that’s hard, and it happens slowly over time, and it looks different for everybody.”

Ellison grips the wheel tightly. “The truth does matter. It does. The truth is the fucking truth. And it’s been empowering to be able to talk about it because that’s another way that I’ve realized, like, ‘Man, I was a victim,’ is re-going over all of this. Because when it happens so many times, you do blame yourself. It’s a lot easier to just continue to live in a lie than believe that you were lied to.”

Still, Ellison and Badolato agree that the impressionability that makes children vulnerable is also what makes them open to guidance and mentorship if a relationship of trust can be established. “What do you think a parent does? They groom you. I’d been waiting to be guided and groomed,” Ellison says.

It’s been instructive to see that potential from another perspective, as a mother doing the guiding. As the afternoon wears on, Ellison stops to pick up her then-15-month-old son, who was being watched by a social-worker friend. She buckles the little boy into his car seat, ruffles his hair, and passes him a bottle. He grins widely and begins removing his shoes and socks, throwing them gleefully onto the floor of the car and then kicking his tiny feet in time with the music as Ellison glances back at him and smiles. “Kids are so perfect,” she says.

The last stop of the day is the large plot of land where the drug dealer’s house once stood. Now, it’s been turned into a playground, with brightly-colored jungle gyms, a covered picnic area, and a large lawn, where a couple leisurely walks their dog. Ellison and Badolato climb down from the car and stand at the park’s edge, as Ellison’s son toddles around the grass, oblivious to what had transpired in that very spot. There is some form of poetic justice in the land being earmarked for children’s enjoyment, but neither woman voices it. Mostly, they’re quiet. Night is falling, the air growing cooler, and the gray sky fading into dusk.

“You would never think a park could hide what it used to be,” Ellison says at last. And yet it did. Driving off with Badolato at her side and her son babbling happily in the back seat, Ellison glances in the rear-view mirror, but only for a moment. Badolato keeps her eyes fixed only on the road ahead.

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diejager · 1 year ago

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I know this kinda sounds stupid- but can you do a feral deer reader who was found by the task force? The reader has some magical healing abilities, so she ended up captured and hired as a medic. Since the reader never really communicated with humans/ other hybrids and was mostly by herself, she doesn't understand social stuff. For example, she can be convinced that getting groped is a greeting, and she'll agree since she never interacted with other hybrids before. So she's pretty much oblivious.

If possible- make her a bit fluffy? 👉👈

I’m going to make this the continuation to Doe because I can!! Muhahahahahah!!!!!! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, non-con touching, magic, hybrid, groping, tell me if I missed any.

You were introduced to Laswell after the mission, dressed in better clothing than the tattered dress you wore, antlers cleaned from all the leaves and officially claimed by the Task Force, you found a place in their group. Going through a few rough patches and scuffles to get you out of your home, they watched you tend to your wounds, your hands glowing over the scrapes and tongue lapping at your bleeding fingers. Your… ability was the driving nail that forced Laswell to bend to their words, she’d been hounding them to get a medic or someone with better medical knowledge than the four of them combined.

After all the paperwork and sweat, Price had the honour of locking the pretty collar they team bought you around your neck, the insignia gleaming under the office light was the final step to bind you to them as your handlers, a poor and fragile, little deer they saved from the freezing Canadian wilderness. But in all honesty, all they did was separate you from your herd, the warmer spring announcing the end of your antlers and the growth of a new set, it made frolicking and dancing easier than winter did. You were plucked from everything you knew, ripped from your lush forest and livelihood where you watched over the fauna and little critters that came to you for healing, and forcefully placed in a dead and unfeeling world where grey buildings towered over the forests and life restrained to small patches of dying soil. It made you uncomfortable, but the binding words the four men - human men - and the nice but stoic lady (she looked so tired, it made your hands itch to soothe her aches) shared with you made it seem like it was impossible for you to return to your home.

“This is your new home, sweetheart,” the bear-like man said, his gruff voice and imposing figure had you shuddering in your seat, much more than the energetic man with electric, blue eyes that you then learned was Soap.

You wanted to argue, but your voice died in your throat when they all stared at you with dark and expectant eyes, seemingly anticipating submission and obedience from you as a deer. How could you fight when they held such an oppressive air around them, but perhaps it was just their broad and muscular bodies that made your nerves bristle; perhaps they were nicer than they looked, gentler and tender like the way that man with brown eyes held you in the metal bird, whispering sweet and comforting words; or perhaps they were truly mean and dominating, like some pack of wolves that shared your home. You hoped they were as nice as the Gaz, who made you call him by his… real name? You were confused, but you did as he asked, calling him Kyle unlike the other men.

You gave Price a muted nod, eyes cast down and fingers scratching and pulling at your restrictive clothes, feeling too covered and your skin too sensitive by all the irritating fabrics and silks. It hadn’t taken them much time to intergrate you in their schedule, finding you a place in their group to stare at and work despite your clear confusion about the social norms and your sudden duty. The human world was a stranger to you, foreign acts and alien words that you needed help with: you could read some words while others were completely incomprehensible for your feral mind, or your confusion about the use for phones and anything too advanced had you fumbling with your words.

It’s good that you had them to help you, no?

Price made you attend classes with him and Ghost, being taught the alphabet and complicated words after the training drills and morning rituals, sometimes seated between them, squeezed so tightly between their broad shoulders, and other times seated on their laps, their shadow looming over you when they bent over to show you something. They touched you a lot, Ghost having less restraint than his Captain, his rough, gloveless fingers sliding beneath your shirt and groping the softness of your stomach and kneading your breasts, feeling its weight and perky nipples. You squirmed on his lap, whined out your discomfort, used to physical interaction in your herd, but never something so forward, but Ghost had reassured you that this was a normal human behaviour towards someone they cared deeply for.

Price kept his to your stomach and ass, feeling the fat of your cheeks and occasionally standing a hit, drinking in your yelps and whimpers from his touches. He, alike Ghost did, assured you that it was normal that he hooked his arm around your hip and holding you flushed to his side, his musky scent wafting around you like a thick cloud of smoke. He ruffled your hair once your antlers fell, petting you like he would a dog, carding through your washed locks and chuckling when your ears twitched from being handled. He would often call you to his office at random times, allegedly wanting you to train healing them since humans were slightly different than hybrids and having you lick his paper cut with your pink tongue. He liked shoving two fingers down your throat and pumping until you gagged and choked, drooling down his wrist while he breathed heavily and palmed himself.

Gaz and Soap helped you with other things: understanding human behaviour, training you mind and body and helping you around the base when you were lost and disoriented. Both men were enthused to be your chaperone, excited to take part in your schooling in other ways. Gaz lead you around the base hand in hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a strong and unmoving grip while he pulled you forward, your tail flicking anxiously when people gazed your way, their eyes probing your uniform-clad figure. He was more upfront than the older men, pulling you to his chest and cuddling you in public areas, the bigger rec room, the mess hall or the gym, nuzzling the crook of your neck, lips drawling pretty words on your throat and shoulder and hair tickling your skin, mumbling the sweetest praises despite your obvious stiffness.

Soap, not unlike Gaz, had you call him Johnny (Ghost called him that too, you quickly found out) and was the touchiest of the four, always placing a hand on you even in awkward and weird situations. Soap was more animalistic than the others, panting and huffing when he spent too long around you, rutting your thigh like a wolf in rut or another reindeer deep in the season, you were quite sure this one wasn’t that much of a norm, seeing people avert their eyes or Ghost scruffing Soap and hissing degrading words. He especially loved sparring with you, pinning you on the mat, hand wrapped around your nap and putting his weight on your struggling body. He’d grind his hard bulge against your ass, ignoring your cries and whines, happily huffing and groaning in your ear while Gaz and Ghost watched on, admiring the sight, a pretty and vulnerable deer with little stubs and flickering ears, writhing under the mutt of the Task Force.

Even if your initial use was for healing wounds and supporting the team, they found a secondary task for you in all the chaos and caution, to help you open up to them faster and easier. It’d only take a few kisses, cuddling and sessions until you grow attune and accept your new home.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts

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aylacavebear · 8 months ago

Text

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 1

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5393

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 1

You grew up hearing about soulmates, but since you were raised by your Aunt Ellen, it was something you weren’t sure was even true. She’d shown you the mark that had shown up on her hip, your uncle’s name, when she’d turned sixteen. Soulmates clearly were a thing, but you were skeptical, even as a child.

“Hey, you gonna take care of the customers or just stand there daydreamin?” Ellen asked you.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, tending to the men at the bar.

How did I end up working here, of all places?

Your mind constantly drifted these days, and it started a month ago. Your twenty-fifth birthday was only three months away. Jo continually teased you when she found you off in your head during work hours. Then there was your Aunt Ellen, who was getting more worried about you as the days passed.

The music from the jukebox sounded far away, almost muffled as you absentmindedly took care of the tasks of cleaning tables, the bar, restocking bottles, and filling drinks. Guys would flirt with you, but you’d only give them that fake smile and move on.

It was the birthday you’d been waiting for, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone. You were turning sixteen, and you’d finally see the name of your soulmate. Thanks to your aunt, you had gotten your hopes up.

But the day came and went, and nothing appeared. You had checked everywhere, even behind your ears. There was nothing. It took months to pull out of that depression, especially when those close to you asked about it. You also felt like some sort of freak. In all the research you’d done, you couldn’t find anything about not getting the mark when you turned sixteen.

“Geeze, Y/N. You’re really out of it today. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Ellen asked you, pulling you from your memories.

“Sorry. My mind seems to have a mind of its own today,” you sighed, glancing around the bar for a moment.

“You still bummed about the soulmate thing?” she asked you sincerely, in the way she did when she was gently trying to get you to talk.

You just shrugged your shoulders before taking off your apron, “I have to go help Bobby at the garage again.”

“Is it that time already?” Ellen asked, glancing at the clock, then sighed. “Alright. Tell the old grump I said hi, and don’t let him work you too hard.” That made you chuckle, “He never does, and I’ll let him know.”

Again, your mind drifted as you drove down the semi-busy streets to Bobby’s garage. He and your Aunt had been friends for a long time, so he was practically family, as was his wife, Jodi. Growing up, you’d spent half your time in the garage, helping Bobby fix cars.

Sioux Falls wasn’t a big town, but wasn’t tiny either. You knew most of the people who lived there, and they knew you. It was more like more of them knew of you, the girl with no soulmate. You sighed as you drove your 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400, a gift from Bobby you had to fix up, down the lonely road leading to his garage.

“Got something for ya, kid, but you gotta fix her up,” Bobby told you when you showed up for your shift that hot summer afternoon.

“I told you. You don’t have to get me a present this year,” you groaned.

A year ago, you began hating your birthdays, and you didn’t want to celebrate this one. You begrudgingly followed him to his garage, then to the side of it, where you noticed the tarp over something.

Bobby walked over and pulled the tarp off, revealing the shell of a 71’ Pontiac Firebird Formula 400. You had fallen in love with muscle cars as a kid, watching The Dukes of Hazzard. Your jaw hit the floor as you ran over to her like a kid on Christmas.

He was smiling from ear to ear as he watched you look over everything, “She’s all yours, but you gotta do the work. You can’t let any other mechanic touch her. I’ll answer any questions, but I ain’t helpin' either.”

“Are you serious, Uncle Bobby?” you asked excitedly, popping the hood of the beat-up frame.

A small smile crossed your expression with that memory as you pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s garage and parked in the back. It seemed like so long ago, but it was one of your fondest memories that had made your birthday not so bad.

“I’m here,” you hollered, heading over to the car you’d been working on for almost a week at this point.

“How was the bar?” he asked, joining you in the garage.

“I was a space cadet, and Aunt Ellen is worried about me,” you replied, sliding back under the car to finish it up.

“You’re not a space cadet. I just think you can’t focus around all those people anymore. Come work at the garage, full-time,” he told you, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” you answered, tightening down a few more bolts.

“Besides, Jodi misses you being around more often,” Bobby added in an attempt to persuade your decision.

“I miss her too. Oh! Ellen said hi. I don’t know why she doesn’t text you more often,” you replied, sliding out from under the car, looking for yet another tool for yet another size bolt.

When you were in the garage, you always seemed to be able to focus. You knew Bobby had a point, and you’d been considering it for almost a month, but you weren’t about to tell him that. You wanted to let him think it was his idea.

Yeah, your mind drifted, but it was nothing like at the bar. Here, they were little snippets of memories: kids teasing you in high school, adults looking at you like you had two heads, and then there had been attempts to find a job but getting turned down everywhere due to not having the name of your soulmate on your body somewhere.

By the time your shift ended, you had the car completely finished. Looking down at the car, you stood there, covered with blotches of grease but beaming with pride.

“I’ll let the owner know she’s ready,” Bobby smiled, now standing next to you. “Think about it, though, okay?”

“I will,” you replied, giving him a hug before you headed home for the night since you’d already cleaned up the tools you’d used.

You lived in a cute little house not far from Bobby’s garage. It was the only thing that you had from your parents, along with a handful of pictures. You’d lost both of them to a car crash when you were only two, having no real memories of them.

Since you were two when you had lost them, you never asked Jodi what had happened or if anyone else was involved. You honestly didn’t want to know.

Dropping the things from your pockets on the table, you locked your door and headed to the bathroom. Your thoughts drifted again as you did your typical night routine.

“I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time finding work, sweetie. You can’t work here till you’re at least eighteen. I can’t break that law for you,” Ellen sighed.

You crossed your arms and went back outside to your car. You knew why no one in town would hire you, and it was a stupid reason. However, being a teenager still, you were all hormones and now needed to go blow off some steam.

You peeled out of the parking lot and down the road to your parent's place, which would be yours in less than a year. The drive was short due to the speed you’d chosen to go, and a cloud of dust rolled over your car when you parked out back of the house.

Between the punching bag, the target practice, and throwing your knives till your arm was sore, you had finally calmed down some. You made a call to Ellen and told her you were going to sleep at your ‘almost’ house. She didn’t like it but didn’t argue either.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, curled up in the soft bed that would eventually be your permanent room as the sun set slowly. The thought of being alone for the rest of your life hurt more than you’d ever tell anyone.

Dinner that night consisted of leftovers, and you were thankful you’d prepared them ahead of time when the week began—baked chicken, potatoes, and gravy. You were far too out of it to even worry about a vegetable.

I’ll tell Ellen tomorrow.

Finally deciding to quit working at the bar as you cleaned up dinner and headed to bed, almost feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Slipping under the covers and getting comfortable, you also felt more relaxed than usual.

—----

Two hours into your shift, and Ellen had already had to pull you out of your head a dozen times. It was Saturday, so even the morning hours were busy today. You were just thankful that you never had to cook, knowing you would have ended up burning most of the food.

“Can you at least pay attention to the ones at the bar? Jo can handle the floor today,” Ellen told you, again sounding worried.

“I’ll try,” you sighed, glancing at the men sitting there.

There was no point in apologizing again. As you began taking care of the drinks, the bell over the door dinged, signifying yet another customer. Typically, you wouldn’t have even looked up, but something pulled at you.

It was three men, none of whom you recognized, and two of them looked to be around your age, with the third being older. All three of them sat at the bar, so you went over to get them drinks.

“What’s your poison?” you asked, putting on that fake work smile and not really looking at them.

“Three beers,” the older of the three said, “And please tell Ellen to come over.”

You were slightly confused but agreed. You set their beers down in front of them, then went to find Ellen in the back. “Hey, there’s a guy out here that asked for you.”

“Did you get his name?” she asked as she dried her hands.

“No. He didn’t say. He’s with two other guys who are younger, though, if that helps?” you replied as you followed her out of the back room.

You stopped halfway down the bar, but you were still behind it, as she was now on the other side, making her way to the three of them. The older man stood, both he and Ellen smiling as they embraced in a hug, which confused you. You managed to keep up with the drinks for those at the bar but couldn’t hear what the four of them were talking about.

“Y/N, come down here and get these boys a refill,” Ellen hollered, motioning for you to go over to them.

Rolling your eyes, you did as she asked, putting on that fake smile again, “Here ya go.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” one of the two younger ones said to you with what looked to be a flirtatious smirk.

“Don’t be flirting with my niece, Dean. She’s still what you’d consider innocent,” Ellen scolded the one who had just spoken to you, but to you, it sounded more like a teasing sort of joking around, which made you slightly curious. “Thanks. Like I need some stranger to know that sort of thing,” you grumbled.

“Sweetie, these are the Winchesters. They’re practically family. You met them when you were little,” Ellen replied, smiling happily.

For a moment, you were somewhat dumbfounded as to what to even say. You couldn’t seem to remember meeting the three of them. Ellen introduced you to John Winchester, the father of Dean and Sam, who were four years apart in age.

“I hate to do it, Aunt Ellen, but, I need to talk to you about something before I leave in ten,” you finally told her.

“What’s up?” she asked, looking quite puzzled.

“I need to take some time off for a while,” you mumbled, feeling bad.

“Take all the time you need, sweetie. I know things have been rough for you lately,” she said softly, then she gave you a hug. “And tell that old fart to stop by sometime.”

“Thanks for understanding, and I will,” you replied, relieved as you hugged her back. Then you looked over at the Winchesters, “It was nice to have at least met the three of you since I don’t remember meeting you before now. Not sure when I’ll see you again, though.”

“How come?” John asked, seeming fairly curious.

“I’m going to be working my other job full-time for a while. It’s the love of my life, honestly,” you replied with a smile, giving John your full attention.

“What’s that, kid?” he asked, which made you wonder if perhaps he knew Bobby since Bobby called you that all the time.

“I fix cars. Hate to do it, but I have to run,” you replied quickly, heading for the door and out to your Baby. However, your heart about stopped when you saw the black 67’ Chevy Impala parked next to your Firebird.

“Damn…” you breathed out in quiet shock and awe.

Shit! I’m gonna be late.

With that thought, you shook your head, pulled your gaze from the car, and drove to Bobby’s garage for your shift. It indeed was a beautiful car, and you knew that no one in town drove one of those. Through deductive reasoning, you figured it had to belong to the Winchesters. You just weren’t sure which one. Whichever one it was, though, they loved that car, and you knew it with how well it had been taken care of.

The leaves on the trees were changing colors already, and the light breeze was finally cooler than the summer heat that you hated. However, you didn’t notice much today; you were too excited to give Bobby the news.

You knew the smile you couldn’t hide would give it away, but you stepped into his little office anyway. You didn’t even have time to say anything before he did.

Bobby was smiling from ear to ear when he looked up at you, “Nice to know Ellen didn’t give you a hard time about being here full time. You can whip those boys on the morning shift into shape for me.”

“Like they’d listen to me,” you chuckled but rolled your eyes.

“They better, since you’re gonna be their boss from here on out,” he told you seriously.

“Wait? What?” you asked, in complete surprise.

“Kid, you know your shit, and you’re good at your job. You’re better at your job than the four boys I got workin here already. I’d rather just have you than all of them 'cause I know you’d get the job done like it should be, and you never cut corners,” he explained, being completely serious.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you stammered, still shocked.

“Just say thanks and be here at six tomorrow morning. Take the afternoon off and rest up,” he smiled.

You went over and wrapped him up in a hug. He knew the only reason you worked in the garage late was to avoid the boys he had working there in the morning. You had tried doing the dating thing after your sixteenth birthday, but realized quickly that no boy wanted anything to do with you.

That night, you were still smiling, even if you were apprehensive about being someone’s boss, let alone four grown men. People in the town were mostly courteous toward you but treated you like a plague of some sort since your soulmate's name never appeared on your body.

—-------

As you got ready that morning, you attempted to calm your nerves, but it didn’t work. You gave yourself mental pep talks all morning and even on the drive, but that wasn’t helping either. Your heart was still racing as you parked out back like you usually did.

Bobby was the only one at the garage for the moment, and he even told you to breathe more than once. He explained that you’d still be working on cars, but now you’d also be keeping an eye on the boys he had working there and telling them when to take their breaks. It seemed simple enough.

Benny, Cas, Garth, and Jack were decent guys and were all friends. They’d spend time at the bar in the evenings when you were at the garage. It was how you had avoided a lot of people in the town since they really wanted nothing to do with you. The part you were worried about was interacting with them, as their boss. Bobby was standing next to you as the four of them arrived and mingled into the garage.

“Boys, meet your new boss,” Bobby said sternly, and all four of them looked up at you.

You were sure your heartbeat could be heard throughout the room as you froze under their gaze. The only one who didn’t look at you like you were a waste of space or something to avoid was Garth, and you made a mental note of that.

Something in you snapped with how they looked at you, and you laid into them before Bobby could comment on their expressions. “Look, I know that at least three of you would rather not work with me. I’m not a bitch, but I will be if I have to be. You don’t like this, there’s the door,” you told them sternly, putting your hands on your hips.

“Seriously?” Benny asked, annoyed. His Cajun accent was thick, and if it weren’t for his attitude, you probably could have listened to the man talk all day.

“Yes, Benny. She’s got the right to fire you if need be. I suggest you don’t give her a reason,” Bobby replied, crossing his arms, almost daring the man to challenge his decision.

Garth stepped forward, though, with that kind smile he always had, “I, for one, am looking forward to working with you, Y/N. You seem like a nice person, fair.”

Your expression instantly softened, and you smiled at him. “Thanks, Garth.”

“Alright, get to work,” Bobby told all of you before he headed into his office to keep an eye on things.

You turned from the four of them and headed toward the newest of the cars that had been brought in the day before. Your nerves were shot, but you were proud of yourself for standing up to the three of them. Pausing for a brief moment as you looked down at the car, you decided on something.

I’m gonna just be me. If they don’t like it, they can quit.

You turned on the radio to the classic rock station, then got to work on the car. Benny raised an eyebrow and just watched you silently before he got to work with the other three. It was odd for you with the other four working there, too. It was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself keeping an eye on them, even while you worked.

An hour into the shift, Cas had stopped working and sat on one of the barstools, sipping some water. You watched him out of the corner of your eye for a few minutes while still focusing on your current task. Five minutes later, he was back to work. You took mental note of it and focused on your task again.

Each of them did that, taking turns to sit for a few minutes, have water, and then return to work. It puzzled you, but you weren’t ready to ask them why they did it, at least not yet.

Just before nine, you heard it before you saw it. The beautiful purr of that Impala you had seen the night before. A smirk crossed your lips while you were unbolting the upper portion of the water pump for the current car in front of you.

The Impala stopped, and then she was silent. You could clearly hear three sets of footsteps heading into the garage. The four boys erupted with greetings to the Winchesters, more Dean than the other two. Even Bobby joined in.

So, they do know each other. Too bad the boys know them too. So much for maybe making a friend now.

You sighed and slid under the car, going for the bottom bolts now that the top ones were loose, completely ignoring the ruckus of greetings going on only about twenty feet away from you.

“Kid, you gonna come say hi?” you heard Bobby ask, and you realized he was standing next to you.

“I really wanted to get this finished, since the part finally came in, and this poor car has been sitting here for a week waiting,” you replied without moving out from under the car.

“Kid, don’t make me pull you outta there,” he told you a bit more sternly, and you knew he’d do it.

“Fine,” you grumbled, sliding out from under the car.

“So much for not running into you again, Sweetheart,” Dean smirked, which made you roll your eyes.

“Dean’s gonna be starting tomorrow morning. Dean, she’ll be your boss, so don’t try anything funny. She’s also practically my niece,” Bobby told him, far sterner than you’d heard him talk to anyone before, which only piqued your curiosity as to what their past entailed.

“I’ll behave, Bobby, I promise,” Dean told him, somewhat seriously.

You noticed a small twinkle in not only Dean’s eye, but also in Bobby’s. It was like there was something they both knew but weren’t saying, at least not in front of you.

“You better, boy. I got no problems telling your dad and making him fire you,” Bobby replied, glancing at John.

That was when it hit you. You’d seen the initials JW on several different pieces of paperwork and even a couple of packages that had been delivered to the garage. John was Bobby’s partner in the business, and Dean was supposed to inherit it when John passed or retired. You were a bit surprised, though, that you had the power to fire the boss's son or at least write him up if you had to.

John’s laughter filled the garage at Bobby’s statement, “If I have to get involved, you’ll be in far more trouble than just losing your job.” There was a joke in there, but you could also hear the hint of seriousness in his tone.

What do the three of them know but aren’t saying around me? This is so frustrating.

“I said I’d behave,” Dean grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the car closest to him while the boys gave him a hard time. But it was there, even if only a hint of it, a smirk, and you noticed.

That was when John and Bobby both turned toward you, and for some reason, it made you nervous. “We’re having a little get-together tonight at Harvelle’s, and you’re invited. Sam graduated and is getting a full ride for law school, and that calls for a celebration,” John told you with a far softer smile than you thought the man was capable of.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” you replied, completely unsure of the idea of being around people who really wanted nothing to do with you.

“Good. Then we’ll see you there around say, seven?” John replied.

“Okay,” you answered, not sure what else to say.

Due to your attention being on John and Bobby, you missed the silent conversations going on between Dean, Sam, and the four grease monkeys on the far side of the garage. Dean was mostly watching you while Benny and Cas were telling him things, about you. Sam was also watching you, but his was more out of curiosity than anything else.

John and Bobby hung out in the office with the door closed for at least another hour. Dean and Sam were distracting the other four while they worked. You, well, you were changing out the water pump, ignoring all of them. It was what hurt the least.

While you were tightening down the bolts under the car, you noticed a pair of feet standing next to you.

“You really don’t remember us, do you?” he asked.

“Sorry. I really don’t,” you answered, focusing on the bolt that was being a pain to get to.

“Wow. Kinda surprised since we went to the same schools and grew up in the same town,” he chuckled quietly, and you realized it was Sam and not Dean. Sam had a softer voice, and he didn’t call you sweetheart.

“I’m really sorry. I was kind of a loner,” you told him and finally got the bolt tightened down.

Sliding out from under the car and looking up at him, you felt like an ant with how tall he was. You shook off the feeling, got to your feet, and bent over into the engine so you could finish bolting the water pump in place.

“I remember. I heard about what happened, or uh, I mean- what didn’t happen when you turned sixteen,” he told you with that softness you were thankful for.

You shrugged your shoulders briefly, “Doesn’t matter. At least Bobby let me work here. All I ask is that you aren’t being nice to me out of pity. I’d rather be ignored.”

“I don’t pity you. I actually wanted to tell you something I found out while I was at college. It’s rare, like it only happens to one in a billion people. A traumatic event before the age of five can leave a child too scared to get their soulmate’s name when they turn sixteen,” he explained.

You froze where you were. It was more than anything you’d been able to find, and for a moment, you wanted to hope. You quickly brushed it away, though, remembering how badly you’d felt the last time you got your hopes up.

“You gonna keep going or just leave me hanging like that?” you asked, a little sharper than you intended.

Sam took a deep breath, and you missed him glancing at his brother momentarily, “Well, what I read said that the other person still gets their soulmate’s name. The one that went through the trauma has to fully heal from it before they get their soulmate’s name.”

You rolled your eyes, “Kinda hard to heal from something I don’t remember.”

“I just wanted you to know that me and my brother don’t see you like others do, and we’d like to be your friend, if you want,” he replied, then walked away to leave you to your thoughts.

Great. I don’t even know what to do to heal that sort of thing. I don’t even remember my parents. And now, the boss’s kids want to be friends with me. No, that can’t go horribly wrong, can it? Plus, I have to go sit through a celebration with people I don’t remember and others who want nothing to do with me, even if Ellen, Bobby, and Jodi will be there.

You focused on the car but finished it quickly before the Winchesters were even ready to leave. After wiping off your hands, you closed the hood and put the tools away before driving the car out to the finished area so it could wait for its owner to pick it up. When you headed back inside, your eyes were only on the office door, which was still closed. You didn’t see Dean watching you again.

“Hey, Bobby. Cars finished. I didn’t see anything else out back. What do you want me to work on?” you asked, setting the keys on his desk so he could get the paperwork together.

“How about you give Dean the tour? Show him where everythings at?” John suggested with a smirk before Bobby could say a word. “I figured Benny would do that, since they seem like friends,” you replied, not wanting to interrupt the six of them.

“I’m sure he could, but he won’t. You’re their boss. Comes with the territory,” John told you.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied in a slight mumble, heading back out of the office, closing the door, and then leaning on it.

As you crossed your arms, you watched the six of them. They looked like they were enjoying whatever conversation was happening between them, with Dean laughing at something he must have found funny. With a deep sigh, you walked over to them, slipping your hands into your pockets.

There was instant silence the moment you got close to them, but you didn’t let the hurt show, “John said I should give you a tour and show you where everything is,” you explained to Dean, not really looking at him.

Dean glanced at the office door then back down at you, “If that’s what my dad said, then lead the way, Sweetheart.”

Why does he have to keep calling me that? It’s not like he knows me. Maybe he calls all girls that, and it’s just his thing or something like that.

“Yeah, not like you been in here a day of your life,” Benny teased him, which made you look up at Benny, confused. “Huh?” was the only word you could manage.

“Oh yeah, Dean’s been working in here since he was knee-high to a grasshopper,” Cas chuckled, teasing Dean.

Your gaze went from each of them and then to Dean, tilting your head in a fair amount of confusion. Dean rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Worried she’ll figure it out?” Benny stated.

“Figure what out?” you asked as Dean glared at Benny.

“Nothing,” Dean snapped, still glaring at Benny.

So, Dean’s got some secret he doesn’t want me to know about.

“Do you still want that tour I’m supposed to give you?” you asked with a sigh, looking more at the floor than anywhere else.

“Dean, you were here less than a month ago. Did you really forget where everything is already?” Cas teasingly asked him.

You’d had enough, so headed out of the garage, tossing your hands up and hollering, “Never mind,” just before making it outside. Once you made it to your car, you texted Bobby and told him you were heading home since there weren’t any more cars to work on at the moment.

The six of them watched as you drove past the garage entrance and then down the driveway. You missed Dean punching Cas in the jaw. You missed John and Bobby going off on Benny and Cas. You also missed Dean going off on Benny. You were too pissed and hurt to even look back.

Bobby didn’t text you back, but you knew if he had an issue or needed you at the garage, he would have said so. The moment you got home, you went straight for the punching bag, needing to get the anger out of your system so you could shower.

How am I gonna get out of tonight? Can I even get out of tonight? Probably not. I’ll have to show up, at least. I can always leave early, though, right?

You groaned at the thought of having to be around people, knowing full well that getting out of it, even early, was going to be difficult. At least you weren’t required to dress up any, so you went for a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt, and your favorite deep green flannel pulled over it. At the garage, you typically had your hair pulled back, but for tonight, you left it down.

Parking near the back of Harvelle’s Bar & Grill, you were just staring at the building, dreading going inside and having to “people,” as you called it. The sun had already set, and the darkness was allowing the glimmer of stars to be seen in the night sky, but you didn’t notice them, just the bar in front of you.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

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nadvs · 7 months ago

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i’m ugh i love your take on angst. but twins are usually born early, so when you’re in labor rafes on an away game and you’re going through most of it by yourself

aaa thank you!! omg exactly what i was picturing 🤭

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe’s stomach sinks when he gets the phone call.

he’s boarding his team’s jet after an away game. it was the last away game he told management he could do until the birth of his twins, refusing to be out of town when they arrive.

especially because he was traded at the start of the season, moving them even farther away from their hometown. she doesn’t have anyone else close by to help her if she goes into labor.

she’s seven months and three weeks along. the doctors told them multiple births tend to come early. he agreed to do this one last away game, confident he’d make it.

but now, he’s an hour flight away when he gets the call from his girlfriend that she’s having contractions and on her way to the hospital in an ambulance.

he feels like an idiot for taking this risk. for assuming it’d be fine. because now he’s completely and utterly powerless, having to sit on a plane and wait and hope he makes it there before his babies do.

he calls her the second they land, but she doesn’t answer. the call goes straight to voicemail. in the cab, he calls her a few more times. nothing. her phone must have died.

when he runs up to the hospital desk asking where she is, he realizes he’s nearly heaving while the woman at the front desk searches through the system.

finally, he gets a floor and a room number, and he runs up the stairs and through the hallways until he gets to the door he’s been dreaming about coming through for the last two hours.

she looks up when she hears the door creak open. rafe drops the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder and rushes to her. it hasn’t happened yet.

“i’m not too late?” he says, panting.

“no,” she says, looking utterly miserable. she winces as another contraction hits her, squeezing her eyes shut.

“is it hurting?” he grips her hand, her fingers digging into the back of his hand.

she can’t even speak through the pain, trying to breathe through it.

rafe has never felt worse in his life. she’s been here, without him, in pain, all because he made a bad call.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. i deserve it.”

she climbs over the harshest spike of pain, then starts to breathe more evenly as the contraction fades away.

“they keep checking, but i’m not dilated enough,” she tells him. “it’s like my body won’t cooperate.”

“can i get you anything?” he asks anxiously.

“i’m just so glad you made it,” he says.

“i’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been alone.” rafe dips his forehead against her fist closed around his hand.

she bites her lip, her head resting on her pillow. it’s been a nightmare, dealing with the agony and anxiety that she’d be surrounded by strangers during the scariest thing she thinks she’s ever gone through.

her obgyn isn’t on shift, so somebody she doesn’t know will be delivering the babies. she was terrified she’d have to do this without rafe. she looks over at her boyfriend as he kisses her knuckles over and over.

“is this dad?” the nurse says as she comes in.

“yes,” she breathes.

“amazing,” she says cheerfully. “mom is doing great. she’s tough.”

rafe nods, glancing over at his girl, wondering if there’s anything he can do to make up for not being here.

“i’m going to have the doctor on call come in to check up on you again in a few minutes. you still okay without the epidural?”

“yes,” she says.

“just give us a ring if you need us, okay?”

rafe kisses the back of her hand again as the nurse scurries out of the room.

“you seeing how long you can go without it?” he asks, remembering her telling him she was going to only go for the epidural when she was desperate.

“yeah, but i don’t know how much…” she says. “distract me. how was the game?”

“106-88,” he tells her. “easy. they were weak.”

“then why’d you let them get 88 points?” she teases with a small smile.

he stares at her, his gaze heartbroken.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t here,” he tells her.

“the nurses and doctors have been great,” she says. “they gave me food and water and all the ice chips i could ask for. i’m okay. i was just so scared you wouldn’t make it.”

“i bribed the cab driver to speed,” he admits.

she laughs for the first time in hours.

when the doctor comes to check on her, he tells her she’s still not dilated enough but her blood pressure is getting high, but they’ll keep monitoring.

fifteen minutes later, the doctor checks again and tells her they have no choice but to do a c-section.

it’s all a blur, being rushed to the operating room, prepped for surgery, administered the epidural, feeling the twins kicking her.

once rafe can hold her hand again, he doesn’t let go of her. strangers in scrubs surround her, speaking their jargon, while her strokes her hand with his thumb, whispering to her how much he loves her and how he’ll never leave her side.

their son is born first. they clean him up while delivering their daughter, and when she feels her children resting on her bare chest, she cries in pure disbelief.

rafe kisses her forehead, calling her perfect, their babies perfect, promising that he’ll never leave their side. he can’t believe how close he was to missing this. he’d never forgive himself if he did.

they move to a recovery room. rafe feels helpless watching the hospital staff move through the motions, but once she can rest, the twins swaddled next to each other in a bassinet, he feels like he can breathe again.

in that small moment of quiet, he stands by the bed, seeing the love of his life’s eyelids slowly fluttering after living through such a hard process, seeing the two most perfect babies in the world sleeping next to each other, and tears of awe and happiness well in his eyes.

this is wealth. whatever he thought made him feel fortunate and rich before doesn’t compare to this. the three beautiful beings he’s gazing at right now are all that will ever truly matter to him.

#ask #swteblurb

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bitch-for-a-rainbow · 17 days ago

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Day 23: Plumerias

Benny knows his graves.

He’s been keeping the grounds here for almost 43 years now. He’s tended these gardens through a pandemic, three alien invasions, and the brief fad of people shipping their remains into the sun. The world changes, but people always come back to good old stone. He’s seen the new graves with their fresh lettering and regular visits, he’s come to know the families of the older graves, regular visitors even after 20 years, and he knows the old graves, the ones with partially worn away names and no one left to mourn. Jaden has been telling him to retire but he just can’t bring himself to go. Sure the “retirement community” will be comfortable, but these are his people, his stones. If he left now, what would he do with himself? Who would clean the old stones?

Some of the older stones still get visitors, of course, or the occasional cleaning. A few famous actors are buried here, soldiers whose graves have become memorials to their various wars more than any individual celebration of life, and one old grave, where, every year, on October 10th, a small bouquet appears. There’s never a note left, and in the decades Benny has worked here, he’s never actually caught a guest with the peculiar branch of flowers. But nonetheless every year they appear.

It’s not that Lena Luthor lacks visitors precisely. Famous inventors with dramatic life stories usually get their fair share, add on her help against the Daxamites and that movie that came out a few years ago and Lena certainly had her fans. But still, she’d died when Benny was still a young man, and the flowers came every single year. She’d no family left these days. The wife had passed a few months after her. He’d thought for a while it might have been her children, but they had followed not long ago and the grandchildren were too scattered to be involved. He’d tried searching for some Lena Luthor Fan Club, some charity she’d founded or donated to (an annoyingly dense list). He’d even checked her biography for the significance of the date itself, but all he’d found was a botched assassination attempt in a long list of botched assassination attempts. If there’s a significance to this one, Benny can’t find it. Hell, she hadn’t even met Supergirl for few days.

It’s a surprise then, as he rakes the leaves, when he sees a figure standing alone before the grave, small bouquet clutched in one hand. He approaches quietly. He’s become an excellent lurker— part of the job, really— and watches. The woman is young, blond hair in loose curls around her shoulders. She fiddles with a wedding band as she speaks to the grave, too soft for Benny to hear.

She pauses after a while, and, without looking up, calls, “So are you just going to stand there or say hello?”

Benny straightens quickly. She hadn’t looked at him once. He’s sure he was quiet.

“I’m Benny.” He says, walking over as casually as one can after being caught snooping. “Fan of hers?”

“Something like that.” The woman says.

“You’re the new one then?” He asks.

“Hmm?” The woman looks up at him, and Benny gets his first real look at her face. She is young, maybe in her mid-thirties. Her glasses ever so slightly askew, a permanent crinkle has formed between her brows, only accentuated by the confused way she stares at him. Her blue eyes are tinged red. She’s been crying.

“The flowers? Somebody brings them every year. It’s you now?” The woman glances down at the bouquet in her hand as though she’d forgotten it was there.

“Oh. Yes. Plumerias. They were her favorite.” They stand in awkward silence for a few moments.

Finally Benny starts up again, “So, is it for a research group? Or some charity organizes the drop-off?”

“What? No. No, it’s just me.”

Benny fixes her with a look. “Just you. Every year?”

The woman shrugs. “Just me.”

“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” He asks.

“Didn’t realize dropping off flowers had an age requirement.”

“Those flowers have been showing up since before you were born.”

“And how should you know when that was?” That gets his attention. He freezes halfway to forming a rebuttal and stares at her. She stares back, challenge in her eyes, before her face cracks with a smile and she begins to laugh.

“I’m sorry, sorry, it’s—” The woman gasps for breath between giggles. Finally, she cracks out. “It’s just been a really long year.”

“Suppose it has. Plenty of new graves this year.” He thinks of the new lot in the east gardens. The one marked with a placard to remember the victims of Braniac’s invasion. “More than plenty. What’s got you visiting this one?”

The woman shrugs again. “Sometimes I like to talk to her. Ask for advice.” She continues quieter, more somber. “Sometimes I wish I could just ask her what I’m supposed to do. She always knew exactly what to say.” The woman pauses. “She’d handle all this so much better than I ever could.”

“Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn’t,” Benny says. “It’s easy to imagine the dead have all the answers, but they were only people once too. Nobody’s born a hero. I’m sure when she was alive she had her own grave to talk to, and the same idea.”

The woman laughs again, lighter this time. “She always had this little bobble-head statuette of Einstein that she kept in her desk. Said if she read her research out to him, he’d show her where the errors were. She hated superstition but get between her and that little Einstein…” The woman’s face shadows. “I used to hate how quickly the time passed. Now it all passes so slowly. And for what?”

“Come on, now.” Benny says, soothing. A bit of a superfan then. Not all that unusual. At least he’d been right about the fan club. “You’re still young. Just give it time. You’ve got plenty of years left to build something out of.”

“Yeah. I suppose I do.” She doesn’t seem as comforted by that notion as Benny would have hoped. Young people, he thinks, always rushing around. Expecting life out of every moment.

They’re silent again for a while. Then the woman lays the bouquet on the grave, whispering something in a language Benny has never heard. She lays a gentle hand on the stone, before turning to Benny. Her smile is genuine, if weak.

“Thank you for keeping her stone clean.” She steps lightly away from the grave, heading back along the path, and Benny realizes he never got her name.

“Wait! Who—”

But when he turns, there’s nothing left but leaves dancing in the autumn chill.

Well, there’s always next time, he supposes. Jared will just have to wait another year.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #lena luthor #kara zor-el #kara zor el #october prompts 2024 #supercorptober2024 #whumptober2024

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mirroredmemoriez · 26 days ago

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I always have thoughts (I can't be asked to rename this- Rigged traps and etc thinking)

We discuss Amanda rigging her traps so much and it has to be one of the most depressing aspects of her character. It’s somewhat obvious that she doesn’t actually think she should’ve survived her own test, which is why she doesn’t believe that anyone else should either- Amongst other factors.

I sometimes wonder whether she’d come to this conclusion without having to go through as much as she did. For example, if Gabriela hadn’t died and let’s say Cecilia did? If Adam somehow escaped… Or was Amanda always destined to doubt John’s ideology and be doomed. The reason she stuck around was because of him really, not anything to do with the ‘’rehabilitation’’ of others. She always tends to react negatively in the face of any game too. With Saw X I think we literally get to watch any hope Amanda has for John’s methods be crushed. I always get confused with the timeline but with a quick search this movie falls between the first Saw movie and Saw 2… Anyway the bathroom trap, Amanda is quite removed from the game itself, even though she is slightly one of the reasons Adam fails with how carelessly she throws the key. The most hands on Amanda gets in regards to this test is when she brings Adam to the bathroom and then also when she returns to suffocate him.

But if we look at the traps for the scammers? Amanda plays a very active role in their test throughout the entire process. She not only brings them to the location, but she interacts with them whilst they’re playing their game. Amanda seems to be rooting for Gabriela, being quite empathetic to the younger woman’s struggle with addiction…. And in a sense, Cecilia is Gabriela’s John? Because to me both Cecilia and John are kinda predatory, just in different ways.

John knew of Amanda from the fact she was a patient in the Homeward Bound Clinic, testing her in her own words because she was a ‘’fucking junkie.’’ So he puts this clearly mentally unstable woman in a reverse bear trap and when she survives the ordeal, John proceeds to use her misplaced gratitude to recruit her. However, I do think there is genuine care between them, it’s just a shame the one person Amanda latches on to is JIGSAW. Whereas with Cecilia, she targets Gabriela because it’s easy to hire an employee whose main focus and drive is money. You can say that’s most workers and sure it is! But addiction can blur and shift your morals by a lot. The same way that Amanda got Cecil to attempt to rob the clinic, I don’t believe Gabriela is focused on the good and bad of what she’s doing. She is purely focused on funding her drugs, making her very easy to be taken advantage of. This could have been Amanda in another life.

Back on track though- Another little detail that always makes me sigh is the fact that Amanda likely was the one to put Valentina’s hair up for her. It’s such a simple consideration and that is what makes it all the more saddening to me. She then watches with her own two eyes, almost every single one of their deaths… EXCEPT CECILIA WHO SURVIVES AND IS THE REASON GABRIELA DIED. Shit man. I’d crash out too. Like, what do you mean the person behind the scam in the first place and who has just stomped on another human being's neck like she’s killing a bug is the person who wins this? What because she did it in the time frame? Because she physically overpowered the other person within her test and KILLED him. That’s who we’re letting out??? Gabriela won but died and even someone like Valentina actually was successful in cutting off her own leg, she just didn’t have enough time. Oh! Did I mention this happens in Saw 2… Like so much of this is a repeat. Xavier physically overpowers almost everyone else in that group, throwing Amanda into a needle pit and killing Jonas. Laura did about nothing wrong except shoplifting and having Eric frame her, yet she succumbs to the poison and dies in Amanda’s arms. Oh! AND SOMEHOW THERE IS A MINOR IN BOTH OF THESE GAMES, DANIEL IS JUST A FUCKING TEENAGER AND CARLOS IS A CHILD!!! DID I MENTION WE HAVE SEX WORKERS HERE TOO? BYE VALENTINA. BYE ADDISON. Oh and people being forced into traps not intended for them. Amanda was never meant to go in the needle pit and a whole CHILD shouldn't be BLOODBOARDED.

All of this is so close together timeline wise too. Amanda is catching no breaks and that’s why it’s not surprising given these circumstances that she’d become unhinged and start actually just murdering people. Might as well everyone else seems to be doing it and getting far. But, let's say things were different as mentioned. Gabriela survived… Laura survived… Adam survived…. So on so forth. Would she have her existential crisis crash out? Because her belief nobody changes is partially engraved in her experiences with others but also based upon herself. If she was helped the first time, why did she keep getting tested? If not the fact of her drug addiction, what was wrong with her? The fact she still self harmed even after surviving the whole ordeal with the bear trap? AMANDA WHAT YOU COULD’VE BEEN IF YOU LATCHED ON TO JILL INSTEAD.

Like I know it's because John's method worked in comparison to the standard rehabilitation but God.

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nickeverdeen · 1 month ago

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She Can Try pt. 3 | Grown up!Powder x fem!reader

Pairings: Powder x reader (prehaps romantic), Powder x Silco (platonic), reader x Silco (platonic), Vi x reader (dead lover), Vi x Powder (dead sister)

Type of fic: Comfort, light angst

Part 1 -> here

Part 2 -> here

Warning: Blood, bruises, mention of fighting, dead lover

Summary: After Vi died you tried to move on, but no matter how much you tried she still lingered there in the back of your mind, while Powder has been quietly suffering for 10 years of silently loving you.

—————————

It had been weeks since you noticed Powder’s behavior shifting. At first, it was small things—her stance, the way she’d carry herself. Then it grew more deliberate, like the way she started speaking and trying to act more assertive, more confident, more… like Vi.

You tried not to think too much about it. Powder had always been searching for something, someone to hold onto. Maybe this was just her way of trying to keep Vi’s memory alive.

But the act wasn’t seamless. Powder was still Powder—soft, awkward, and infinitely kind beneath the mask she was trying so hard to wear.

You were at her base that afternoon, changing out the flowers on Vi’s memorial. The old ones had started to wilt, and you’d carefully chosen a fresh arrangement, vibrant yet simple. Powder hadn’t been around when you arrived, and you didn’t mind the quiet as you worked.

The door creaked behind you, and you turned to see Powder stepping inside.

She froze for a moment, her eyes darting between you and the memorial. Her shoulders tensed as she dropped her bag on the floor.

“Get out of here,” she said quickly, her voice sharper than usual.

You blinked, surprised but not offended. Powder wasn’t often this abrupt with you.

“Alright,” you said softly, placing the last flower in the vase. “I’ll just finish up—”

“No, just… go,” she interrupted, not meeting your gaze.

Her tone wasn’t angry, but there was something behind it—something vulnerable and uneasy. You nodded, understanding she needed space.

“Alright,” you said gently, stepping past her toward the door.

Powder didn’t stop you, and you left quietly, heading to the Last Drop to give her some time alone.

At the bar, you found yourself talking to Silco. He’d always been an enigma to you—calm and composed but with a sharp edge that made people tread carefully around him. Today, though, he seemed in a rare conversational mood.

The two of you talked about nothing in particular, until the topic shifted to Powder.

“She’s been through a lot, that girl,” Silco said, his voice low but thoughtful. “Got into a fight earlier today. Bruised up, but managed well enough. Her sister would’ve been proud.”

You froze for a moment, Silco’s words clicking into place. That was why Powder had been so tense earlier—she hadn’t wanted you to see her hurt.

After a few more minutes of polite conversation, you excused yourself and made your way back to Powder’s base.

You knocked on the door, waiting patiently until you heard her voice calling you in. You have some basic manners, after all.

Stepping inside, you descended the stairs and found her sitting on the floor, tending to her wounds. Her knuckles were wrapped, and cuts along her arms and shoulders had been cleaned and bandaged.

She looked up, not surprised to see you, but didn’t say anything as you approached.

You knelt down beside her, your eyes catching on a bandage on her arm that was already soaked through with blood. You glanced up at her, silently asking for permission.

Powder hesitated, then nodded, letting you unwrap it carefully.

As you worked, the silence stretched between you. Finally, you decided to break it.

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been acting so different lately?” you said softly, keeping your focus on her arm.

Powder stiffened slightly, then looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do,” you replied gently, glancing up at her. “Why are you trying so hard to act like Vi?”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again, her shoulders sagging.

“I thought… maybe you’d like me more if I was like her,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands stilled for a moment before you finished rewrapping her arm. Then, you reached up, cupping her face gently and tilting her head so she’d look at you.

“Powder,” you said firmly but kindly, “you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone else. I like you—just the way you are.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing as you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Standing up, you picked up her jacket from the floor. It was torn, likely from the fight, and you carried it to a nearby chair to start stitching it back together.

Powder watched you silently for a moment before standing and walking over. She sat down beside you, resting her head on your shoulder as you worked.

The two of you didn’t speak, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Powder’s weight against you felt natural, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to relax.

Maybe she didn’t need to fill Vi’s shadow. Maybe, just maybe, being herself was enough.

#imagine #powder #powder x reader #alternative universe #alternate universe #alternative powder #arcane x reader #arcane reader #arcane season 2 #wlw

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

Text

Big Fan - Part Two

Joel Miller x actress!reader

joel miller masterlist

Joel is smitten. But he's having a hard time figuring out when she's being real and when she's just acting.

warnings | 18+ lil angst, mostly fluff, fun times abound

a/n | this is a continuation of a request that I was not expecting so many people to like lol, read the first part here!

........................

“Real or fake?”

“Oh, definitely fake. I still don’t think I know how to hold a gun right. Those were all just plasticky props.” Joel laughs with a shake of his head as she shrugs. They’re sitting in the spot they usually find themselves in as the sun starts to turn syrupy over the mountains, Joel’s arm draped across the back of the bench seat on her porch with her ever so slightly leaning into his side. By the time he says goodnight to her, he knows she’ll be melted right under his arm, pressed fully into his side, since that’s how these nights tend to unravel.

It’s been entirely too sweet, all this time he’s been spending with her. They’ll talk for hours, well into the night, but not without a few interruptions. Word had spread fast around Jackson about the pre-apocalyptic starlet, and Ellie was right, it wasn’t just Joel who had been a big fan of hers before. It was typically women, recognizing her from some sappy movie he remembers Sarah liking, stopping by her porch to tell her that they loved her work and if she needed anything at all, to not hesitate to ask. Joel couldn’t help but roll his eyes at these displays, but she always handled it with an awkward grace, giving them a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not like the smiles she gave to him.

The men that show up are a different story. Joel would like to do a bit more than roll his eyes at them, with the way they lean up against the railing, shooting her crooked grins and telling her how they just can’t believe there’s someone “so darn pretty” calling Jackson home. But she treats them just the same as the others that show up, a clean smile and a few polite words, a far cry from the sailor’s mouth Joel has found her to have around him. And he thought he couldn’t like her more than he already did.

After a few of these visitors had come by, Joel had fixed her with a quirked look, asking her if she was “putting on a show for these folks.” She had shrugged with a grin, and that’s how this game they play came about of Joel asking her what was real, and what was fake.

“They didn’t have someone teaching you that?” She sighs, nudging a little closer into his side.

“Mm, no. Think they were a little more concerned with how my tits looked behind the machine gun than if I was holding it right.” Joel clears his throat, her crass language flustering him a bit, and she seems to know it, giggling lightly as she looks up at him.

“Well, you seem to be holding your own just fine. But I could, um, give you some pointers some time if you want. Check out your form.” He regrets those last words the instant they come out of his mouth while she throws her head back against his shoulder in a hard laugh. He grumbles, heat creeping up his neck as her cackling finally dies down. She sighs, craning her neck to catch his downturned gaze.

“You wanna check out my form, Joel?” He huffs as she dissolves back into laughter, leaning over her thighs with her elbows propping her up. This was also something that often happened during their time together. Joel would manage to put his foot in his mouth, looking like a “hopeless fool” as Ellie lovingly put it, and she’d start teasing him until he could barely stand it. They flirted like dumb teenagers with each other, Joel wasn’t so thick that he couldn’t see that. But it never went any further than her resting her cheek against his chest in the darkening night, his arm sliding to drape over her. He knows it's silly, but he'd really like for it to go further.

She glances over her shoulder at him, sighing as her laughter finally dies down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, I promise.” She leans back into his side as he shakes his head.

“Have a hard time believing that, darlin.” He savors the effect that little name has on her, the melty smile she offers him whenever he calls her that. She smacks his knee before squeezing it lightly.

“Pfft, be nice, Miller. After all, you did have my poster in your bedroom.” She can barely get the words out behind her giggles. Joel tries to press a scowl across his face, but he dissolves too easily at her bright laughter, a defeated chuckle leaving his lips.

“Alright, I couldn’t help myself. But I’m done now, I swear. In all seriousness, I’d appreciate that. You checking out my form. Could probably learn a thing or two from you.” She settles down into his side, the spot that Joel likes her in the most. He lets his arm slip down around her shoulder, hand brushing idly along her forearm.

“Why don’t we go out tomorrow for a little target practice? You can show me what you got, hollywood.” She snorts at that, hand squeezing his knee again.

“Sounds good, Texas. I’m game.”

…

“Real or fake?” She stops walking for a moment, a shy grin crinkling up her face. Joel chuckles.

“No, really?” She shrugs, picking back up the pace. They’re hiking out to a clearing Joel had used a few times to help Ellie with her target practice, a bright spring day that has them both dressed down in t-shirts, packs loosely slung over their shoulders.

“It was just a publicity stunt. Two co-stars in love. Certainly sold movie tickets, I can tell you that. But no, it was very, very fake. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand the guy.” He can’t help but laugh at her admission, shaking his head as they keep moving.

“My daughter had the biggest crush on that guy. I can remember her telling me she thought you were the luckiest lady alive to be dating him.” He lets out a long sigh. It’s been getting easier, talking about Sarah. Less of a pain and more of a relief in getting to remember her and share it with people he cares about, but a twinge still runs through his heart when he talks about her. She has been easy to talk to about it, letting him share as much or as little as he wants to, in turn telling him about her own family that she had lost, a little sister that she never got to see again. He couldn’t help being surprised at how easily they both talked with each other, coming from two completely different worlds. Though he supposes they share a whole lot more in this world they live in now.

She hums, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Yeah, her and everybody else thought that I’m pretty sure. Such a shame he was actually a total asshat.” He snorts at that, picking up his pace to walk alongside her.

“Asshat. That’s a new one. You’ll have to share that one with Ellie. Kid’s always looking to expand her, uh, vocabulary.” She grins at him, eyes crinkling up as she laughs.

“Oh, I know. I taught her “douchebag” last week.” Joel huffs as she giggles at his exasperated expression, muttering a low “was wondering where she picked that up.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as they reach the clearing and Joel is quick to shrug off his pack and take out the old street signs he and Ellie had painted targets on, setting them up against a stand of trees. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she had been checking him out as he turned back around to her. But he knows better, right?

He sidles up next to her and hands her the pistol he had brought along.

“Alright, show me how you’d normally stand.” She nods, staggering her feet slightly and cocking the gun up in one hand. Joel sighs, shaking his head as he comes up behind her.

“Almost as bad as Ellie, Jesus christ. Here–” He guides her one hand up to clasp over her other hand, bringing both his arms around her to firm up her grip with a light press of his palms. He can hear the clipped inhale she takes, can feel the stuttered rise of her shoulders from where his chest is hovering against her back. He clears his throat, leaving one more firm touch over her hands before stepping back.

“Thumb over thumb. Ain’t nobody gonna knock it out of your hands that way. And two hands are always steadier than one.” She hums in confirmation, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He nods toward the makeshift targets.

“Let’s see what kinda damage you can do, darlin.” It happens so quick, Joel can barely pick his jaw up off the ground as she turns around with a bright smile. She smoked it, hitting all three targets dead center without so much as a flinch. She saunters back over to him with a chuckle at his slack expression.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” She shrugs.

“What can I say? You learn early on as an actress to always hit your mark. Thanks for the tip though, definitely made it easier to stay steady.” She goes to hand him back the pistol and he clasps his hand around hers, pulling her a little closer.

“You didn’t need my help, not really.” She just shrugs, a crooked grin on her face as she looks at him. Joel huffs.

“So why exactly did you wanna do target practice with me?” She steps a little closer, bringing her hand that’s not clasped in his up to splay over his chest.

“Maybe I just wanted to spend a little more time with you, Miller. Is that so bad?” Joel sighs, shaking his head and letting go of her hand to drag his through his hair.

“Christ, you can’t just say shit like that. Not when–” Her brow is furrowed as she cuts him off.

“Not when what?” He huffs, keeping his eyes on his boots.

“Not when you don’t really mean it.” The laugh she lets out shocks him into meeting her gaze again. She shakes her head at him.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” His head is spinning at her words, at the warm look she’s giving him and he has to scrunch his eyes shut to refocus on reality. His eyes flicker back open when he feels her palm coming up to cup his jaw.

“Joel, if you don’t believe it, just ask me. I haven’t lied to you once.” At first, he’s not quite sure what she means, but when he finally gets it, he lets out a long sigh.

“Alright. Real or fake– you’ve been flirting with me.” She smiles, her fingers lightly drumming against his chest.

“Real.”

“Real or fake– you flirt with everyone.” She scoffs, shaking her head.

“Fake, and I’m insulted too, geez.” It’s playful, but Joel is already posing his next question.

“Real or fake– you like flirting with me because you like messing with me.” She laughs at that.

“Hmm, fake. But also a little real.” His brow furrows, but she just smiles.

“Real or fake–” She cuts him off, bringing both her arms to wrap over his shoulders.

“Wait a minute. It’s my turn. I’m gonna do something, and you tell me if it’s real or fake.” Before he can ask her what she’s going to do, she’s leaning up and guiding him down with her hand at the nape of his neck, brushing a fluttering kiss to his lips. Joel’s mind goes blank, the only thing he can focus on are her eyes as she pulls back just slightly. She grins.

“Well, was that real or–” He cuts her off this time, dipping back down for a much more demanding kiss, bringing his hands to cup her face. They both pull away a bit breathless and Joel lets out a laugh, his thumb stroking the arc of her cheek.

“Real. That was very real.”

................................

taglist: @littleshadow17 @stevesdick @agent007knight @inanni

#joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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rom-e-o · 4 days ago

Note

I was wondering if you are comfortable writing an asexual Rook/Emmerich?

maybe the others are teasing them about their relationship with dirty humor and eventually Rook has enough and leaves?

if this is something you won't write, you can delete the message

Hello, friend!

Apologies for the delay! I swear I wasn’t ignoring your ask, but I wanted to tend to it properly and give this prompt the attention I thought it deserved.

I hope this still finds you well. <3 Thank you for the request, anon! I had some fun with this, so I hope you enjoy~

Perfect

(Emmrich/GN!Rook)

Harding was a good friend. A very, very good friend. When it came to reliability and loyalty, she was sterling in both departments. The thought had dawned on Rook more than once that without her, they would have mostly definitely died at the temple while disrupting Solas’ ritual. She’d thrown herself right into the fray to rescue them, danger be damned.

Even before that fateful encounter, they’d been longtime allies in the search for Solas, and she’d continued to remain faithfully at Rook’s side even as the stakes had continued to rise.

Rook appreciated the scout for her charming personality and impressive prowess on the battlefield.

… That being said, there was … something that got under their skin. Sometimes it came in the form of a small prick, like a needle.

Other times, it hit as devastatingly as an arrow.

“So, Rook … you and Emmrich are…?”

With a sigh, Rook cast their glance from the bookshelf they’d been keenly examining and gave a waning smile.

“Harding, we’ve been over this,” Rook said, their tone carefully measured.

“Yeah, I know, I know!” she said, her words insistent while her tone stayed playful, “You said you wanted to keep things private.”

“That continues to be my preference.”

“Yes, right. That is perfectly fine.”

“Good. Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

“…Okay, but…can I just ask you something? From one friend to another?”

Rook pivoted to Harding curiously, trying to feign politeness even as the question grated the edges of their nerves. “Of course.”

“Really?”

“You may ask me a question, but I may not answer it. If that’s alright.”

“Oh. Well, that kind of defeats the point.”

“Harding.”

“Listen, Emmrich is older than you—”

“Nooo. Surely you jest.”

“—I was going to say, he’s … have you ever been with anyone older, Rook? Like, older-older?”

Rook swiftly slid the book back into its place on the shelf. “How old do you think I am, Harding? I’m not a child. Not even close, actually.”

“I know that!” She huffed, but in her usual determination, cleaved a path forward. “Hear me out. I just wanted to make sure you’d thought about this. Carefully. It’s hard to swim out of the deep end once you’ve already started drowning.”

“What about Emmrich would drown me, exactly?”

After flicking her eyes around the Lighthouse’s library to make sure they were alone, the dwarf close the distance between them with a few wooden footsteps. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “I just want to make sure he’s not too much for you.”

Rook chortled. “Too much? In what way?”

“…Rook. You know in what way.”

Right. Emmrich had mentioned that vaguely on their previous dinner date. While he’d disclosed precious few details about his previous relationships, Rook was aware that he had been a mutual participant in more than his fair share of courtships. By extension, they could only fill in the blanks and imagine that a man with a dance card as packed as his had his fair share of experience in the bedroom.

Experience that Rook hadn’t had, and had no interest in experiencing.

“Have you at least talked it over?” Harding inquired. “Because that might be a conversation worth having before things get too serious, don’t you think?”

The two were so caught up in their conversation that they failed to notice a presence enter into the Lighthouse library, then still on the sidelines as their banter continued.

“You’re right,” Rook continued carefully, “We … um, well … we did talk. A little bit. He knows that he’s my first um … anything. I trust he can fill in the blanks. Even after I told him, he was still interested. We’ll just move slowly.”

“…”

“…What?”

“Rook, it’s obvious that even talking about this makes you uncomfortable,” Harding said sympathetically.

She was right, Rook thought. It did.

“Remember when Davrin made that joke about ‘hand-to-bone’ combat? I swear you flinched.”

Rook did recall and remembered their reaction keenly. It was the first moment they realized that, while perhaps they and Emmrich were on the same page regarding intimacy, the others at the Lighthouse perceived their interactions differently. There were comments and innuendos about sexual encounters and concepts that neither of them had put forward. Their friends were thinking about them being together.

Enough to joke about it.

Enough for it to become small talk.

That notion hadn’t annoyed Rook – it had terrified them. The sudden weight of the expectation to perform sexually, like some kind of peacock, when they were already trying to stay afloat with saving Thedas for blighted gods, was heavy. The last thing they wanted while trying to focus on saving the world was coping with lingering doubt about their competence in bed – as if that was anyone else’s business, anyway!

Davrin was one of Rook’s best friends, so they knew the Warden hadn’t met any harm. It was just gentle banter. Completely routine, actually. They’d heard far worse in seedy Minrathous bars and alleyways.

The comment wasn’t the issue.

“Rook, you’re under a lot of stress,” Harding said. “I know Emmrich is a good man who would never pressure you. I just … worry. I know how it feels to withhold your thoughts to avoid confrontation. Not that I think you would do that, of course! I just … ugh. I want to look out for you, but I’m probably coming off as some controlling ass, huh?”

Rook smiled gently. “On the contrary, you’re making a lot of sense.”

“See, I’m sorry for—oh! Wait. Really?”

“You’re not worried about Emmrich pressuring me,” they said, plucking another book from the shelves. A romance novel. It fell open in their hands, and their eyes scanned it lazily. “You’re worried about me pressuring myself.”

“Yes!”

The sound echoed loudly through the open space, reverberating like the knell of a chantry bell through the hollow space. Both cringed at the strident noise, but once it quelled and was replaced with the rumble of the magically-suspended debris overhead, they shared a laugh.

“I appreciate you looking out for me and Emmrich, Lace,” Rook said sincerely. “Thank you.”

The dwarf shifted from one foot to another, wooden clogs tapping the tiles with each humble sway. “Aw, shucks. Well, you’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t articulate that better at the start. I’m not great at … things like that. But I appreciate you too, Rook. For everything. I just want you to be okay.”

“I will be. Emmrich will be, too.”

“What will I be, now?”

The two friends snapped their heads in the direction of a new voice entering the conversation. The source of the voice was Emmrich, who had sauntered in, his staff in-hand as he walked. His hazel eyes fell on Rook, whom he regarded with besotted warmth.

“Hello, darling,” he drawled, pausing briefly at Rook’s side to greet them with a gentlemanly bow. One look from him was enough to make Rook practically swoon.

“H-Hello, Emmrich.” They blushed slightly at the way his voice deepened distinctly for them. The way he annunciated the ‘k’ sound at the end of their affectionate nickname never failed to produce a small shiver of delight.

Then, to Lace, he flashed a more casual smile befitting the greeting a friend. “Ah, Lace! I thought I heard you before.”

“S-Sorry about that,” the redhead apologized with genuine sheepishness. “Guess my Ma’s reminders about having an ‘inside voice’ have been dormant for a little too long. Maybe I’m due for a trip home as a reminder.”

“Oh, if you do, I’d love to accompany you,” he said jovially. “Ah, but speaking of that, did I happen to hear you mention my name before?”

Of course he’d heard, Rook thought. For a man of his age, he seemed to have keener eyes and ears than most people in their twenties or thirties. Perhaps years of studying the Fade had honed his senses, or perhaps he was simply a man who took the care needed to keep his mind and body extra sharp. The reality was likely a mix of both.

As Harding rushed to grapple for an excuse, Rook came to the rescue with their usual honesty.

“Lace was just checking in on me,” they said warmly. “On us, actually.”

“Us?”

Rook smiled warmly at the inquiring lilt in his voice. He was already expecting the worst, he realized, so they were quick to dispel his concerns.

“I asked the same question, but Harding just wanted to make sure we weren’t putting additional pressure on ourselves. I was just letting her know how much I appreciated her attention to detail.”

Coloring a shade of deep crimson under Rook’s kind words and Emmrich’s joyful thanks, the dwarf again stammered out another thank you. “T-That’s what I tried to do, anyway. I-I confess, we were also talking about, well, you two. Together.”

Emmrich blinked, casting a glance back at Rook. “Oh.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um. W-Were you?"

“N-Not in detail!” Lace rushed to correct, arms rushing outward as if she was about to summon a wall of stone. “Actually, that lack of detail was what I wanted to um, ask about.”

Emmrich blinked again, slowly. “I don’t follow.”

“I-I just…you two are both really important to me,” she finally admitted. “So, there. That’s why.”

The man’s brow softened immediately at her admission. “Oh. Well, that is most courteous of you, Lace.”

“I agree,” Rook added, their tone chipper. "Courteous and inspiring. It's good to know we have each other's backs."

Emboldened by their friend’s care, Rook decided to act on an earlier impulse. While a kiss on the cheek would have felt too forced, especially right in front of company, they instead stepped alongside Emmrich and gently took his slender arm into theirs. Resting one hand against the swell of his bicep (which his linen shirt did very little to hide), they beamed at the surprised look the gesture earned. A moment later, the man quickly adjusted. He switched his staff to his dominant hand and used his non-dominant one to gently reach up and twine their fingers together.

"I must say, we are quite lucky to have each other here," he whispered, his gaze never leaving Rook's.

"As friends and comrades."

"Among others." His hand squeezed theirs gently; protectively.

Even with his hand partially gloved, the gentle scrub of his palm and warmth of his skin was intoxicating.

It was a small touch, but it was enough.

“Well, look at that,” Harding smirked, “Don’t you two look perfect together!”

And it felt perfect, too.

#ask #anon #emmrich volkarin #emmrook #datv #datv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age rook

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echoingbirdsofprey · 5 days ago

Text

Back Forty View (On Our Piece Of Ground)

6 - The Way That It Feels When You Lean In And Kiss Me

Pairings: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgis Tennley-Owens, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: SMUT (at the end) unprotected!piv (wrap before you tap), trauma bonding, brief descriptions/mentions of death and medical crap, braindamaged!Tyler, pregnancy talk and idk what else but its a hot mess.

A/N: Lol these four idiots are just sharing their trauma and touching each other over and over again. Brief description in the beginning of Tyler and Jake burying their dog Dixie in a flashback and mention of death, so just be warned there.There's smut and trauma bonding throughout the whole 6k words of this chapter. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore but I'm having fun writing it anyway lol. As always let me know if you enjoyed it too! Thank y'all for continuing to read. I know it's a journey and I'm so thankful for everyone that's supporting along the way!

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989

Dixie didn’t die when the boys were young, even though she was no spring chicken when they got her, so they had plenty of an understanding of what was going on when it happened. In fact it had been Tyler who had to bury her, not without Jake’s help though. They’d understood death from a young age because of their biological father dying. Kenny, their stepfather, had an old rope horse that had passed that mostly the boys rode, but every so often Kenny would hop on and rope a couple cows, just to remind the boys that he was still nimble enough and a good enough hand to kick their asses. Those boys needed that every once in a while. But there had been enough death for them to understand it. It didn't mean it didn't still hurt.

That old rope horse, Dodge, had collapsed in the stall overnight, and they’d found him cold in the morning. Kenny showed the boys what to do and how to do it and then Tyler was always volunteering at the rodeos when a cow died or a horse had a heart attack from running too hard, or what have you. It was Tyler’s calm demeanor that made him someone that everyone could lean on in those heavier moments. And that carried through even when Tyler wasn’t himself. Even when he’d been in pain, in absolute agony, everyone still felt like they could depend on Tyler for solace.

So the morning that Dixie died, she died in front of the fire. Jake had been home from a deployment and they had been outside working on cleaning up the property. Kenny had injured his shoulder and couldn’t do much with the tractor, so Tyler, in between tornados, had come home to try to fix it up. Jake’s deployment had gone south, losing Austin, one of his very best friends. He needed time with his brother to blow off steam.

Their mother had been tending to Dixie mostly, giving her the pain medication that was helping her stay somewhat mobile, keeping her warm by putting a blanket over her, even in the summer, and staying frequent on her food mood swings. She’d eat a certain food for a while and then decide she didn’t like it anymore. That was just what old animals did sometimes.

Tyler and Jake had come in from helping Kenny to their mother sitting on the chair by the roaring fire. “Momma? You okay?” Jake asked, noticing there were tears in her eyes. He knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her cheeks. Tyler placed a hand on Jake’s back, then squeezed his shoulder. Jake glanced back at Tyler, who’s hand was over his mouth. His eyes were on Dixie, who was curled up next to the fire. Jake tilted his head and then he realized that the dog wasn’t breathing. He crawled the few feet to her and felt her. Warm, but no breath,

“She’s...gone...I think...” Jake stuttered and Tyler knelt beside him, He rested a hand on the dog’s chest and feeling no heartbeat, tears began to run down his cheeks. He scooped the dog’s body up and waited for Jake.

“Let’s go find a good spot in the field. That was always her favorite place.” Tyler murmured, Dixie’s limp body in his arms, followed closely by Jake. When they exited the house and Kenny saw the dog, he knew immediately.

“Momma’s pretty broken up.” Jake said as Kenny patted the dog’s head one last time.

“I’ll go sit with ‘er. You boys okay to take care of her?” He asked, and Tyler nodded, sniffling. Jake veered off, going to the barn to grab a shovel, then they headed out into the wheatfield, smack dab in the middle of it and took turns digging until they had a decent spot. Tyler laid her in the hole, and pulled her favorite duck toy from his pocket, throwing it in with her and then Jake scooped the dirt back over her. They placed a rock over the top and as they stood, they faced each other. They silently hugged and then headed back to the house to go see if their momma was doing okay. It would take a while for them to process the loss of that dog, and the house would be too quiet for a long time without her.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

Heartbroken was an understatement.

Georgia sat in the barn, staring, just staring, at the nameplate on the all door.

“Wildwood's Blue China - Wilene - Loved by Georgia and Tyler Owens”

Tyler had just gotten their horses all nice, brass engraved nameplates, and the new halters. Tears rolled down her cheeks, into the dirt on the barn floor, thinking of how little time the mare had gotten to wear that pretty new halter. She felt a hand at her back. As she glanced up, warmth spread through her chest and she stood, nearly jumping into Tyler's waiting arms.

“Rascal can have her stall...then Ducati can have a spot in the barn. Twist needs a friend...” She murmured into his chest.

“Gee, not now. I know you're tryin’ to distract yourself. Don't. You're allowed to sit with this. You're allowed to hurt.” Tyler's tone was soft and forgiving, his hands the same on her back.

“But I don't want to.” She said, her eyes reaching his then. There was sadness heavy in the sage green.

“I know you don't darlin’ but you might have to...to help wade through the grief.” He reasoned and she shook her head.

“Why, when you can pull me out of it?” Her hands wound around the back of his neck.

“Because I ain't pullin', not this time. You never processed your grief for your father completely. I know you didn't. I need you to sort through this . I will help you, but you've gotta work through it. For us .” He motioned between them and then laid a hand on her belly. Georgia understood immediately what he meant and he was right. “Darlin’ you're so good at movin’ on. Don't. If you need to be sad, be sad. I'm here for you, whatever you need.” Tyler offered and Georgia leaned into him more.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Georgia's voice was barely above a whisper and Tyler nodded. “When you said you wanted some things to slow down, what did you mean?”

“Life. I just want life to slow up. I feel like we're goin’ a million miles a minute sometimes with all the projects we got goin’ on...the channel, the horses, the house..I just need to hit the brakes a lil’ bit.” Tyler’s hold on her tightened and she felt a wave of tension rush through him. She moved one of her hands down, to the top button that was open on his shirt. She played with the hair on his chest, which made him smirk.

“You know it's all gonna come screeching to a halt when this baby comes, right?” Georgia said, pressing her nose into his chest. She inhaled his scent, which was musky and fresh after showering. Though, Tyler could smell like horse shit, cow shit, and days old ball sweat and Georgia would still think he smelled good. It was because he was her person.

“I'd like a little respite before that...” Tyler murmured, sighing deeply before pushing his nose into her hair. Horse hair and peaches with some soft floral notes. All sweet, all the time.

“Tyler...I'm so sorry you're exhausted...it's my fau-” She began but he stopped her, peeling her away to catch her irises with his.

“Don't you do that for a second. It's not.” He’d never let her take the blame. He knew he was overextending himself. It was what he did. That was him. He’d work his fingers to the bare bones if he had to.

“You give me and everyone else so, so much of yourself.. .I wish you wouldn't sometimes. ” She said solemnly, her brows knitting as she stared up at him. Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt absentmindedly.

“I don't know how to be any other way.” He said, leaning down to touch his lips to hers. His eyes drifted down to her belly and his frown turned upside down.

“I know you don't. That's why you're gonna be the best father. But don't lose yourself completely.” She smiled and then it faded, her eyes then searching his. As if she was trying to gauge just how much of himself he’d given away today. Sometimes she could see it, sometimes she couldn’t. He cocked a hip and his hands went under her jacket and traced her sides.

“Y’know there's a part'a me that I reserve for one person and one person only.. .that's you. ..even Jake doesn't know bout my head. Jake knows I'm in pain but you...I told ya...it's unbearable some days.. .but I get up for you . Always for you.” Tyler confessed, his gaze dropping. His face then contorted in pain and Georgia could see he was at the end of his mental allowance for the day. It was getting down to the last month to go and her support system, her husband, was hanging by a thread.

“I know. I love you so much, Tyler. We should take a vacation. We have plenty of people here to take care of the ranch, the channel, the dogs even...” Georgia suggested and Tyler pursed his lips.

“Where are we gonna go on a vacation?” He asked and Georgia shook her head. He was right. Where were they going to go with her as pregnant as she was?

“How ‘bout this then...one day a week, we take the day off. You don’t go into your office, you don’t touch a truck unless it’s to drive us on a date, and I don’t even go out to the barn. I don’t touch a horse or a saddle. We can stay here, or go out for the day, but we don’t do a goddamn thing having to do with work.” Georgia said and Tyler raised a brow.

“Hmm. We just... touch each other all day? That ain’t work.” Tyler mused, pulling her in closer again. His smirk was feral.

“ Yes, Arkansas, we just touch each other alllll day. ” She sighed, not out of annoyance but out of relief knowing that his humor was still intact.

“So when-abouts do we wanna start this?” He asked, hands shifting so they traveled up her back slightly.

“When do you want to start it?” She asked, her fingers caressing the hair at his temples, comfortingly. Tyler closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her hands on his head. His most vulnerable area, forever and always. Every so often, he would still see the bull’s hooves coming straight for him, and the ground meeting him before he blacked out, and the thought of the memory made is temples throb, and the crown of his head sear with pain, but as long as Georgia’s hands were there, it would subside quickly. She didn’t know it, but she could always take his pain away in a heartbeat. He should tell her that sometime, but not yet.

🌪️ 🛩️🛻⚓

“You'd kill me if I ever told ya how bad that last concussion was.” Tyler murmured as he ran his hands up and down her side. Laying in bed together, in a house, not some shitty motel, was exactly what Tyler had always dreamed of. It was all he ever wanted.

“You're gonna tell me now.” Georgia demanded, turning to face him.

“Else what?” Tyler teased, his nose touching hers.

“I don't know. Nothin’ scares you anyway.” Georgia whispered, glancing away from him. Her fingers grazed over his bare chest, giving him goosebumps. He chuckled lightly.

‘That ain't true.” He admitted, his eyes trailing over her naked breasts. He placed a hand on one, squeezed gently and then pressed his lips to hers.

“What are you afraid of Tyler?” Georgia asked, letting her lips linger close to his. He drew back and pressed his mouth to her shoulder and stayed there.

“Losin’ you. Again. ” His voice was almost imperceptible, and it caught Georgia off guard. Her brows knitted and she took his head in her hands as she saw his eyes glaze over and grow misty.

“Well I won't threaten that. I don't ever wanna be without you again.” Her fingers threaded through his hair, the hair at his temples and she traced the tips over his stubble. His breath came out in a shudder, before he began to explain what he’d been told when he’d first woken up from his coma.

“The doctor...said if I didn't rest my brain...if I wasn't careful, it could've bled, and I could've died. They were like ninety ninety percent sure I was gonna die. They almost had to drill a hole up there to relieve the pressure.” He tipped his head down carefully, his nose touching her collarbone. She was careful as she drew his head against her chest. She played with the hair at the back of his neck that he had been needing to trim.

“Did they?” She asked. He blew air from his lips and then pressed them to the top swells of her breasts. She sighed softly at the contact, the warmth of his mouth comforting to her.

“Nah. Luckily, very luckily, the swelling went down with the anti-inflammatories...and then from there it was just pain and symptom management. I used to get migraines and be down for days on end. I couldn’t drive ‘cause I’d get dizzy, I’d get sick...I guess I sympathize with you pretty hard on the morning sickness...” He explained, his strong arms pulling her in even more than she thought possible.

“Now I wish I hadn't asked. I didn’t know it had been that bad. You don’t...do you still...” She asked, as Tyler shifted against her. He climbed over the top of her, his head still in her hands. His eyes landed on her, as she dropped her fingers to the nape of his neck.

“No, no. Been about two years without any symptoms. Just need to be careful with my noggin is all.” Tyler’s voice grew husky. Georgia glanced down, as his fingers splayed over her belly. “Especially with the little one on the way.”

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“I really appreciate you doin’ this for us.” Tyler murmured to Jake as his hand connected with his brother's shoulder and squeezed gently. Jake tilted his head and smiled.

“Not a problem, bruh. You deserve a day off. You plan on goin’ anywhere?” Jake asked, as he saw Georgia coming down the stairs. She sidled up right beside Tyler.

“Not really. Goin’ to get lunch and then we’ll be back. I honestly want to sleep and I think Gee could use it too.” Tyler said softly as he felt her hand fit into his, fingers entwining and closing tightly with his. She smiled up at him and then at Jake.

“Aright, well, get goin’ then. We’ll hold down the fort. Stay out as long as you’d like. Don’t rush home.” Jake said, punching his brother gently. He watched as Tyler and Georgia left, hand in hand. Grits whined and then gazed up at Jake.

“Sorry bud, ya can’t go with ‘em.” Jake said, reaching down to rub the pup’s ears. Grits whimpered and then trudged over to where Ballast was laying flat out on his side. Ballast side-eyed him and then lifted his head. Grits laid down next to the larger pup and poked him gently. Sam looked up from her laptop.

“Oh, he’s so sad that he can’t go.” She murmured, as Jake sat down next to her. He placed his arm around her shoulders and leaned back. She melted into his touch and glanced at him. His eyes dropped to the floor and he tapped his foot a few times. Sam finished typing what she had been working on and then closed the laptop. “What’s wrong?” She asked, turning to face him, her hands meeting his thigh.

“Did you hear me get up last night?” He asked, running his fingers over her knuckles. She sighed and scooted just a smidge closer.

“I felt you leave the bed...and then I fell back asleep.” Sam said, placing her other hand on his chest. His heart was beating rapidly as his brows furrowed.

“I had a nightmare...” Jake murmured, the frustration in his tone evident. Sam tilted her head.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked and he shook his head. He threaded his fingers through hers and he rubbed his other hand over his face.

“You were tired. It wasn’t that bad.” He said, letting himself slide slightly down into the cushions. Sam sat up straighter, a dominant gesture.

“You’re supposed to wake me up any time you have a nightmare. We agreed.” She said, annoyed sounding. She climbed over his lap, straddling him and he didn’t look her in the eyes. He felt ashamed, which was not what she had intended, but she wanted him to trust her, even if he thought it wasn’t that bad.

“I know, I just...it’s old shit...not new shit.” Jake placed his hands at her waist and dug his fingers in, his jaw working as his tone became tight.

“What does that mean? Please talk to me, Jake.” Her hands rested on his shoulders and she settled her weight across his lap. He sighed heavily.

“Austin...my friend...he was a pilot. He died on the last mission I was on before the Dagger detachment.” He said, his green eyes catching her brown one then. She saw sadness there. His breath became heavier as he struggled to find words to tell her what he wanted to tell her.

“Was that what the nightmare was about?” She asked, biting her lip.

“Do you ever have nightmares about...about Rooster?” His nose scrunched, regretting asking the question immediately. Sam’s expression softened. She expected the slight deflection as it had been hard for Jake to completely open up about all of his trauma.

“Very rarely. Mostly when it had just happened. Since then...maybe once or twice.” She explained and he nodded, feeling inferior. His nightmares plaqued him, sometimes night in and out, but Sam seemed to never have them. It didn’t meant she didn’t re-live things when she was awake though.

“I haven’t told you everything...about...between me and Rooster.” Jake looked worried, and Sam surmised that it was maybe because after he told her all of his secrets, and opened all of his scars for her to see, that she might feel different about him.

“Are we telling secrets then, Jake? Because I have one too.” She admitted. His eyes widened and his fingers pressed more firmly into her hips. She nodded.

“You do?” He asked, eyes searching hers.

“Yeah, but you go first. You’re the one that had a nightmare.” She begged, her brows knitting. She shifted slightly on his lap which unintentionally aroused him, but as he began to tell her about his friend, that warm and lusty feeling faded.

“Nothin’ really secret about it, I guess. I beat the hell outta Rooster after we came back from that mission. It was his fault that Austin died. I still believe that. And then, I got court martialed. I was on probation when I met you at the Hard Deck that night...” He explained, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was warmer than his hands and he hummed as she drew in a sharp breath at the iciness of his skin against hers. She could melt the ice that coursed through his veins in that moment too.

“Oh, bad boy, huh? I knew I liked you.” She teased, wiggling her hips slightly. He smirked and glanced down and to the side, before his lips parted and he caught her chocolate brown eyes again.

“It was worth it. Rooster was too slow to get there. I never really processed Austin’s death...no one asked me about it. He was my best fucking friend besides Javy, Samantha...and it seemed like no one even cared...’cept maybe his mom and sister.” The green in his eyes had begun to simmer slightly, whether out of anger or neediness she wasn’t sure. It could’ve been a mixture of both. There was a long silence then between the two of them, Sam just observing Jake. He stewed under her gaze, biting the inside of his cheek, his jaw working, his shoulders tensing. She pressed her fingertips into the back of his neck, kneading the muscles there, quelling some of the irritability that had built up in him.

“Jake, can I ask you about a pilot? You might have known him.” She spoke softly, leaning in closer to him, her lips almost on his.

“Of course. What squadron was he in?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet again.

“ Yours .” Sam said, her voice cracked at the end of the word. Jake noticed this and he drew back slightly.

“He was? What's his name?” He asked, his eyes darting back and forth from hers to her lips. He watched the pink rise to her cheeks and he knew it wasn’t lust. It was guilt. Why would she feel that , he wondered.

“Bodhi...” She murmured, her gaze falling away from Jake’s, as if she felt dirty for even uttering the man’s name. He was dead, why did she care so much?

“Captain Bodhi Denson. Yeah. I knew him. He was a really good guy. Unfortunate what happened...I missed the funeral.” Jake explained, sucking in a sharp breath, regret pinching his brows together.

“I was there.” Sam said quietly, sniffling. Jake’s eyes widened in realization, but he wanted to give her a chance to explain what had happened and why she’d been there.

“Wanna tell me why?” He asked, reaching up to cup her cheek. He steadied her, guiding her gaze back to his.

“Before you...after Rooster...I was involved with Bodhi...a little.” She admitted, her fingers working nervously at the back of his neck. He was well aware of what she was doing. Her nerves were there because she felt like she’d kept something huge from Jake, when it was really insignificant, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Involved how?” He asked, trying to keep his tone flat, judgement out of it. He hadn’t been with her then and he couldn’t be mad at her for past partners, especially a guy like Bodhi.

“Just...involved somewhat...intimately...he was...he helped me after Rooster...” She stuttered and Jake understood. Jake surmised there had been feelings of some sort there and she clearly didn’t want to tell him, for fear of making him jealous. Jake shouldn't be jealous of a dead man, but...

“I don't know if I like where this is going.” He admitted, his brows raised, his jaw tight. Sam brushed her fingers over his temples then, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He let his eyes flutter shut, enjoying the feeling of her lips on his and the closeness between them. When he was vulnerable, when he was in his feelings like he was right now, her kisses always felt like the first time again. They always set a spark through him and grounded him, even when he felt like he was losing control of every bit of himself.

“Jake, do you ever feel like things happen for a reason?” She asked, as they parted. She stayed close to him, their breath mingling. Her voice was so quiet, as if she was trying to make sure no one else heard, even though it was just them and the pups.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, pulling her shirt up slightly. She let a sigh leave her lips and then kissed him again, adjusting her position again.

“I think...well...I believe...that maybe Bodhi sent you to me...why else would we happen to meet at the Hard Deck that night? After you lost Austin...I lost Bodhi...the shit with Roos...” Sam reasoned and Jake shook his head.

“Maybe it was just a coincidence?” He said, trailing his hands across her lower back. He left them there, waiting for her to respond again.

“I don’t think so...” She said, digging her nails into the back of his neck as if she was trying to get her point across.

“Why do you think that?” He asked. She let her hands run down the front of his chest, stopping to massage his pecs for a moment. He blew air from pursed lips as he gazed into her chocolate brown irises.

“Because Bodhi wanted me to be happy.” She murmured, making Jake cock a brow questioningly.

“He told you that?” He asked, his hands moving again. There was stiff, tense air between them and he felt like he needed to move or have her make a move. Something needed to give.

“No...I know he did. It was just how he was.” She said, her hands lowering more, to his belt buckle. He raised his brows again.

“He was a nice guy...I felt bad when his wife left him and took his kid but...hey, is that why you gave me a chance? Because you think Bodhi would've wanted you to?” He asked and she nodded.

“Partially, yes.” She said, unbuckling his belt. Jake’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his whole body igniting. It didn’t take much, and she’d started it. He just hoped she wasn’t going to try to end it before they began. Jake stretched up and covered her mouth with his, their tongues then tangling, tasting each other for a few moments before they drew away from one another, panting in the same rhythm.

“Why else? What did Nat tell you that night? She talked to you the entire time. To be honest... I couldn't take my eyes off of you that night .” Jake admitted, and there on Samantha’s cheeks was the heavy, rosy blush that she acquired when she was aroused. When she was close to him. When he complimented her and when he touched her. She felt her cheeks heat and she knew that Jake had noticed, as his hands began to tug at her shirt.

“She told me that even though you were an asshole, you would probably be one of the only pilots she'd be okay seeing me with. She told me you were the most surprising guy she’d ever met. She also told me when you guys had sex...” Sam began and Jake rolled his eyes. Hearing Nat’s name dampened his arousal slightly.

“Jesus...here we go...” He said, annoyed, but Sam brought her hands back up to his cheeks. Jake glanced down, his belt buckle undone and pulled apart. She hadn’t gotten to his zipper yet.

“She just said you were not what she expected. She thought you were gonna be some big jerk and you weren’t. She wasn’t surprised that you left after though.” She said and his brows raised again as he swallowed hard.

“I left because we just weren’t gonna work. We’d had a little alcohol, we both were pretty pent up...she asked me and I just needed the release. My hand wasn’t cutting it. I...it just...didn’t feel right with her...not like it does with you.” He reasoned, and her hands left his cheeks to unzip his jeans. This gave him some relief from the tightness that had rapidly become a problem.

Before he could do anything else, she was removing her own pants, the yoga pants that he so loved to see her in. They shaped her ass perfectly, for his ultimate viewing pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wondered then if he would feel the same about her when she was pregnant. He had noticed, with his brother at least, it seemed as though he was even more attracted to his wife while she was pregnant, and Jake felt that a lot of that had to do with the fact that Tyler had always wanted kids. It was an extremely attractive thing to Tyler. Jake on the other hand, didn’t know he had wanted any of this until Sam, so he wasn’t sure how he’d feel. But he was kind of excited to find out.

“How did we go so long being in the same circle of people and never meeting? How do you explain that?” She asked, her voice rapidly dissolving into a soft and sultry tone, one that Jake had stuck in his head during all times of the day on some days. It was part of what had gotten him through his rehab, though with his recent nightmare, he felt like he’d taken a step back. But he knew Sam would be right there to help him through whatever was going on in his brain. He just wished he could make sense of it so she wouldn’t have to bother.

“Just chance? I don’t know if I believe in all that spiritual shit.” He said, as he lifted her shirt over her head. With it being the winter, and them not being out in the bright California sun all the time, their skin had taken on a more pale tone, the tan leaving them, but Jake still loved her the same. He loved all of her the same, and he knew he would forever, no matter what season it was. He figured he might love her no matter what her body looked like because what it really was that he loved about her was her brain. It was the fact that she made him think, and almost frustratingly so.

“Well, I do. I think the universe lined things up perfectly so that we’d have each other to wade through this mess we’ve got between us.” She said, as Jake took in the sight of her perfect breasts. He let his head fall back against the back of the couch, sage green dipping back and forth between her tits and her mouth. Her lips were parted slightly, lids lowered, as she began to slide his jeans down his hips. She stood from the couch for a moment, to fully pull them off, throwing them on the floor. Jake’s mouth dropped open and his hands reached to guide her back to his waiting lap. She gladly climbed back on top of him, her hands pressing into his shoulders for support. He winced slightly, a twinge jolting through his collarbone as she used him for support, but he didn’t mind it. It let him know that this was all real still and that he wasn’t dreaming.

He often thought he was when he was with Sam. He thought, multiple times a day, how could he have possibly found such a perfect woman? And then he thought back to what she said about Bodhi. Maybe he could, for just a second, believe that her meeting Bodhi had made the stars align so that they could then meet. Jake felt for Bodhi. The man had lost everything, and then he died. Quite the opposite of Austin. His friend had everything going for him. Austin had even been on track for a promotion. Funny how Jake had gotten the exact promotion that Austin was going to get. Funny still how the tables had turned and Jake had seemingly made up for his past transgression by saving Rooster on their last mission. Was that some ass backwards way of the universe telling him to forgive Rooster? Maybe.

Jake still had a lot of maybes circling around his brain, but as Samantha settled over his hips, the wet warmth at her core centered over his cock, he temporarily forgot all of those maybes and what ifs. Sam had a way of helping him let go of all of his over analytical thoughts and Jake did the same for her, but it was the negative emotions that Jake pulled from her. Jake wouldn’t stand to have her think she wasn’t good enough or that she deserved any less than she got. Jake wanted her to feel like she was the most important girl in the world, because she was for sure the most important one to him.

“What mess are we talking about now? The one in our fucked up brains or the one that we’re about to make all over this couch?” He purred, his lips brushing the outer shell of her ear as he then descended toward her breasts. She pushed them toward his mouth and while one of his hands cupped one, the other traveled from her hip around the front of her, down to her sopping wet core.

“A little of both, Jake.” She sighed, her head dropping back as he began to pleasure her. He took one nipple in his mouth, biting softly, as his fingers pinched the other, This set her body alight, her abs tightening, the fire in her belly stoked. Jake pulled his fingers from her and took her panties aside. She moaned his name as he slipped easily inside of her, letting her sink down all the way once he’d breached her entrance. He sucked in a sharp breath as she fully engulfed his length. She was the one who began gently bouncing up and down on him, making words spill from his mouth like prayers. His voice was solid and husky, low and lascivious.

“Fuck, Samantha. So good, you feel so, so good, babygirl. So good for me. Made for me, swear to God, you were made for me .” Jake felt like he was just throwing out words, but Sam heeded each and every one, all of it bringing her closer to her release. She was wound tight, just at the edge of it, and she swore that Jake’s praises could send her over if he just kept talking.

“Made for you, huh? Made just for you, Jake?” She mused and his brows furrowed as he nodded, the now burning green of his eyes blown wide with lust. She angled her pelvis so that her clit rubbed against the skin just above the base of his cock every time she came down.

“Just for me, my fuckin’ beautiful girl. My good girl, so good for me.” Jake’s hands searched, grasping for her hips and taking over for Sam as her rhythm became sloppy. He lifted and dropped her rapidly on his length, her walls tightening with each pass.

“Yeah?” Keep telling me, handsome, keep going .” She moaned, neediness evident in the words, begging him to continue his incoherent banter.

“Feels so good when I’m inside you, babygirl. So fuckin, uh, so good, uh. You’re so good. And mine, fuck, all mine. All, ohhh, uh, mine .” Without warning, though she didn’t really need it, he was spilling inside of her, deep inside of her and she was cresting her peak all in the same breath. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she dropped her forehead to his, the sweat on their brows making them stick to each other. Jake reached up then, pulling her lips over his, locking their tongues together as they both stilled and let their orgasms wash over them. Their breath through their nostrils was the only sound in the house, besides the crackling fire. They knew the feeling well, the euphoria that had built up and exploded in the pleasure centers of their brains. The coiled fire in their loins burned, the backdraft erupting throughout their bodies. As the ecstasy faded, and they settled slowly from their shared high, they parted, a string of spit still connecting them for a brief moment. Jake reached up and wiped it from their mouths.

“How did we get here?” He asked, his smile full of exhaustion and warmth, as he pressed his lips to hers once again.

“We started talking about feelings.” Sam joked and it made Jake chuckle too. He pulled her against his chest and they stayed like that for a little while longer, before gathering themselves and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

#glen powell #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #tyler owens #jake seresin x oc #tyler owens x oc #top gun fanfiction #the mandalorian #top gun maverick #top gun hangman #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fic

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thisnameisnotspokenfor · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter snippet

((they're sitting down at the edge of the forest near Banquo))

“Are the towers always lit like that?” asked the star’s voice as she heard him move.

“Only when storms are approaching,” she replied, somewhat surprised to see them all burning so brightly together tonight but as she said, it was to be expected given the possible storm that loomed on the horizon.

“Hmm,” the star hummed thoughtfully as she heard the breaking of branches. “It’s almost like they’re arranged in a pattern of some sort,” the star spoke as he thoughtfully glanced at the flickering towers.

“They probably are,” Asha sighed. “Seeing as how Lord Vitrius was around when he and the astronomers named the place, I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone like him with a cartographic background had a hand in designing certain landmarks like this….”

“You know about Tau Vitreus?”

“A little bit,” she confessed. “Yesterday the prince had given me his manuscripts that he’d obtained while in exile. He thought there was something more to them than what met the eye, given how hard Vitrius had tried to destroy them before he died. I did some digging about him in the library and ended up stumbling across his journal….I couldn’t find much on the manuscripts, but I know that he was my father’s master, and he wanted him to find something before he suspiciously departed Rosas.”

“And have you found it?”

“Found what?”

“The thing that the prince wanted you to decipher?”

“Ha! How could I when he doesn’t even trust me enough to fully transparent with me? He must’ve been insanely desperate to have gotten me involved in the first place given how he couldn’t even be bothered to bring me back any sort of gift! And I mean, I know it sounds insanely entitled given the circumstances and what he went through, but I can’t help but feel as if the prince himself never really placed any true meaningful value or thought into our friendship… come to think of it, maybe none of them ever did…”

“Even Dahlia?”

“Yes? No? “Uh, I don’t know!” ” she scowled as she drew her knees to her chest.

She’d let the conversation lapse into silence as her eyes had remained solely focused on the distant lights of Banquo. The city looked lively tonight, probably with last-minute preparations for the fair tomorrow she thought.

A distraction had been what the star had called this nightly venture. But the cool night breeze had done nothing to soothe her aching mind as she’d constantly tended to the stray tears that escaped her every so often.

“Asha?” Came Cepheus’s voice. “Are you feeling better?”

Yes, she could already feel the words forming on the tip of her tongue as they’d done so many times in the past. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Everything was always fine, wasn’t it?

So why couldn’t she put herself back together?

Even in the worst of times, she’d always been able to pick herself up and put the pieces of her heart back together. Maybe her fixed heart had never quite perfectly resembled what it had been before, but at least it had looked similar to a heart, or what she’d thought had been acceptable enough to pass for one even with all its cracks and fractures.

But this time, she wasn’t quite sure what it would look like if she’d ever been able to put it back together…nor was she certain that it would ever be good enough….

Nothing was ever good enough…

Not her, and not her heart….

“I…I’m sorry, she sobbed and feebly wiped her tears. “I know you’re trying to help me, and I really appreciate it, I just….I don’t think I’ll ever feel better…I don’t know how,” she confessed, staring at her lap as the tears began to blur her vision. “I don’t know anything…not about my family, my home, and or even myself…”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head, unable to give voice to the strange yet selfish desire that had begun to eat away at her. She didn’t know why she would feel that way over a boy, a being she’d only known for a few days… but she had a sinking suspicion that it had been because of the way things had been going.

In the past few days, Her life had undeniably fallen apart and with every crack and rupture that had appeared, she’d only had one person or place to turn to.

She shook, trying to ignore how cold the passing breeze felt as she tightly tugged at her tear-stained skirts.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in silence before he’d suddenly stood up. She’d nearly been about to ask him what was wrong when he quickly unfastened his cape. Promptly removing it from his shoulders before gently placing it on hers.

The warmth immediately enveloped her as she watched the star re-took his seat next to her.

Had he just? No, he couldn’t have-?! She thought, staring at the beautiful glowing cape that now adorned her shoulders as the star laughed.

Had he really just given his cape to her so nonchalantly?! She could scarcely believe it as she took in the sight and feel of the cape, taking note of the cape’s smaller details of constellations and clouds that she’d failed to notice before.

Calling the cape beautiful was an understatement, she thought, feeling somewhat grateful for the protection it had now put between her and the wind.

She knew she should’ve said thank you, or at least something to the star who sat beside her, more focused on Banquo than anything else, but as her heart began to race she had no choice but to sink within the cape’s warmth, muttering a garbled thank you that not even the star would be able to understand.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in silence before he’d spoken again, this time to ask,

“Asha…Have you ever been to any other countries?”

“No…It’s too expensive…” she confessed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt as she remembered how frequently the royals and nobles used to travel. “But I’ve always dreamed of going to Corona. For a time I even thought about becoming a diplomat just so I could have an excuse to get a change in scenery…”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to focus on my father’s work instead…” she confessed, as she stared at the cape’s edges. “it made me feel as if I’d gotten to see a side of him I would have seen if he’d never passed…or what he would’ve wanted me to do if he’d survived…I just can’t believe he wouldn’t have wanted me to be a part of it…I thought if there was anyone who’d always believe in me then it would’ve been him…but now…I’m not even sure anymore.”

“I can’t speak for your father, but maybe his request had come from a place of concern rather than disappointment. Remember he was as much of your father as he was an astronomer, and with the order probably well gone by the point you’d enter into his life, you’d probably taken top priority to him at that point. So thinking of it from a parent's point of view, why would he want you to live The life of an astronomer, one that has never been particularly easy nor 100% safe, even at the height of their power? If something had caused the order to collapse surely he wouldn’t have wanted you to be caught up in it as well…”

“I guess…that does make sense…but what exactly am I supposed to do without his legacy? Everything I’ve endured and put up with was because I always told myself that it was for a greater purpose, that I had a greater purpose! It’s the only reason why I was able to get an apprenticeship in the first place or even get the manuscripts to learn about Tau Vitrius from the prince! It was all because people thought I was destined to follow in my father’s footsteps, and I was fine with that! I could live with that! But now I see that in this world with people like the king and beings like you I have….nothing…for no one…”

“I wouldn’t say that-,”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve depleted all your options. You’ve been stuck in the same role for five years…“You know your life is too short to not be expanding your horizons, Asha.”

“Is it?” she asked as she began to pace. “What point is there in moving elsewhere? People from all over love and admire the king and his powers. Once they figure out I’m his useless former apprentice I doubt they’d even bother entertaining an introduction. There’s just no place in this world for me or my inventions.”

“Then why not look elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere?” she stared at him in disbelief. “Cepheus where exactly can I look? The royal family has been all over the world whether it be for creational or job-related affairs, and every time they return they tell me just how much the world appreciates their powers and whatnot. How exactly am I going to compete against that?”

“Maybe you don’t have to compete…Have you ever thought about going to outer space?”

“Outer Space?” she frowned, risking a glance at the star. “Cepheus that’s not possible-,” Her voice trailed off at the teasing expression on her face before she promptly shook her head.

“Fine. Cepheus that’s not practical.”

“Why not?” he frowned. “We’ve taken astronomers up to space before and things were perfectly fine.”

“Astronomers?” she scowled. “I’m sorry you mean the same group of people that my own father didn’t want me to have anything to do with in regarding his past with your kind for best case scenario my safety and worst case, because of my incompetence?”

“Well yeah, but your mother said that he never had an issue with you studying the art of astronomy-,”

“Yes but not the part that actually important part that involved your world remember?”

Cepheus leaned back, his eyes nearly lost in thought as if he’d been contemplating something before he shook his head. “I thought you wanted to help me restore the order? Didn’t you want to be a part of it?”

She had. God knows that for some insane reason, a small part of her had wanted to. But could she take that chance given what she knew now? Knowing that she wasn’t supposed to be a part of his world? “I told you I was a selfish person Cepheus.”

#the kingdom of the stars #wish au #this chapter is MAULING ME SO BAD #someone pls send help

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messrmoonyy · 1 year ago

Note

omg hi messr! i hope you are doing well<3 do you think you could write something along the idea of tess who’s in denial of her feelings for reader and reader who’s got no clue about them but likes her back? i absolutely love your writing !! 💟

Tess servopoulos x reader

Wc- 1k

Navigation | Tess masterlist

Jackson knew how to throw a party, that was a fact. And Maria also seemed to take any and all excuses to do so. Tess didn’t actually know what the current one was in aid of, only that she didn’t really wanna be there. She’d only turned up because Maria had practically dragged her there. Telling her she needed to mingle. That she couldn’t just keep to her family and go on patrol and nothing else. But she was quite happy with that if she was honest.

“ y’know it’s a party right? “ Joel spoke, startling Tess back to reality again. Unknowingly having been zoned out for… she didn’t even know how long.

“ I don’t like parties “ she mumbled into her glass, sipping at it slowly and glancing over at the man beside her. He was so different in Jackson. So much more… loose. Free. She often wondered if that was how he was before. If the man she saw glimpses of so often now was the same man that had been a goofy girl dad, running Sarah around to soccer practice and sleepovers.

It was nice. She liked it. She liked seeing him find some joy.

“ I know. But you could at least pretend. Mopin around over here on your own “ she scoffed at that and turned on her stool to face him a little more

“ I like watching “ Joel scoffed then

“ yeah I know. Watching her “ her eyes darted over to him in a glare to find him not looking at her, but out towards the crowds of people dancing.

To you.

You were spinning around with a couple of the kids. Holding their little hands above their heads so they could twirl in circles without falling over. Earlier you’d been dancing with numerous others, an old guy whose wife had died last year. The kids. Literally anyone that had come up to you. You were so loved in town. In fact she’d never heard a single person say anything bad about you.

“ this ain’t the Tess I know “ Joel said, voice almost sympathetic. God they were getting soft “ Tess I know goes after what she wants “ Tess simply shrugged

“ and who said she’s what I want? “ Joel scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. He looked like such a dad.

“ you must think I’m stupid. I hate to break it to you Tess. Anyone with a working set’a eyes knows you’re fawning after her “ she rolled her eyes at him. Even though it was very much the truth “ y’know she likes you too right? Ellie was paired with her the other day. Wouldn’t stop askin after you apparently “ that did peak her interest but she tried to look unfazed.

“ oh like everyone knows somethings going on with you and that woman who tends the greenhouses? “ she said with a smile trying to deflect the conversation over to his equally as odd love life.

“ don’t you change the conversation “ she didn’t blame the woman honestly. Truly it was hard to resist Joel and his southern charm when he truly turned it on. And she was happy for him, she was. Joel deserved a little light. More than most. “ just tell her you like her so you can stop lookin so miserable over here. Ask her to dance god damn do somethin “

Truth was maybe she did had a little crush. Which was so unbelievably pathetic. She was a grown ass woman and yet she felt like a giddy schoolgirl anytime you entered the room. She hadn’t even realised she’d liked you at first. In fact Joel had been the one to point it out. Which was stupid, again. She had never been scared to go after what she wanted. Cocky and confident enough to get what she wanted when she wanted it.

And yet… you. You that she hadn’t even noticed she was falling for. The one she found herself looking for on the patrol rota to see if you had been paired. The one that she felt so comfortable around. Felt like her old self. Not the one that had to be that cocky confident person to seduce some random girl into her bed.

She was so unbelievably fucked. Not that you knew. She was far too embarrassed to ever even mention it.

“ it’s not like that “ she watched as you stood with Maria now, laughing at something she said. The kind that made your eyes crinkle and your teeth show.

Joel sighed beside her and took a seat on the stool next to hers.

“ Tess “ he sounded a little more serious now “ you deserve… you deserve to have love “ it sounded awkward coming from him. Like he didn’t really know exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it. Joel had never been very good at voicing emotions or discussing them. Much like herself “ I mean… damn I am no good at this “

She still hasn’t stopped watching you and to her slight embarrassment you finally looked over in her direction. You seemed confused for a moment, trying to process who you were looking at. Then your face grew into a beaming smile, waving at her before excusing yourself from your conversation with Maria.

Joel seemed to notice too and stood up as you weaved through the crowds.

“ Tess. Just stop acting like you don’t have a future. Because you do now… you deserve to be happy. Alright? “ he excused himself as you reached the bar where Tess had been sat all evening, bright smile still on your face. Your cheeks were rosy, skin a little shiny with sweat from all the dancing you’d been doing.

“ you been hiding here all night? I was wondering when you’d turn up and you’ve been here all along huh? “ you’d been waiting for her? Looking for her?

“ parties aren’t really my thing sweetheart “ you gave a small laugh, leaning back against the bar and turning your head to face her.

“ no? So don’t wanna dance with me then? “ she looked over at you, mouth a little dry even after only just having sipped her drink. You were looking at her carefully, seemingly intensely interested in her answer. She wanted to kiss you. And that shocked her. But god did she want to kiss you, looking at her like that. So beautiful that it made her chest ache. And it terrified her.

“ I don’t really dance “ you pouted slightly and your eyes seemed to be genuinely sad with her answer

“ not even with me? “ part of her wanted to. Wanted to shake off all the stupid reasons holding her back. Shake off her pride. But even with you standing there, offering her a chance to be around you some more. She couldn’t.

She downed the last of her drink and stood up from her seat with a small sigh. Mostly in annoyance at herself and her unwillingness to let herself be vulnerable. To let herself be… normal.

“ I’m out on patrol early. I should probably get home “ the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable and she had to look away.

“ okay… I’ll see you tomorrow? “ your bright smile had returned and she nodded, watching as you slipped back through the crowds. She stopped by the door on her way out, looking back to see you dancing with someone else. She ignored the odd feeling in her chest and headed for home.

#im scheduling this slightly later than normal. let’s see #she’s not exactly all that in denial but we vibe #soft Jackson Tess my beloved!!!!#tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #Anna torv #tlou hbo #Joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #sapphic #tess x reader #tess tlou

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pupphe-additions · 1 year ago

Text

✬Evie’s Relationship With Stray Kids✬

a/n: it has some swearing, but here is Evie's dynamics w SKZ!

Evie x Chan (ChanRi)

Quote: "Tell me the story about how the moon loved the sun so much he died every night to let her breathe." Dynamic: Sun and Moon/Exhausted Parents

His contact in her phone is “🥵❤️Daddy Chan❤️🥵” and her contact in his phone is “My Koala”

Chan and Evie both agree that she is the mother of the group.

Chan is the sun to her moon.

Usually stressing over dumb decisions that the younger boys make.

Always forgetting to sleep at appropriate times.

Evie tends to bring meals and drinks to Chan when he’s working to make sure he is still taking care of himself.

Chan is extremely protective of Evie and vice versa. They just want to protect each other and all the members.

Evie rests her head on his shoulder a lot and tends to sit with him while he’s working to keep him company but also she doesn’t really disturb him she just likes to watch what he does.

They always go to each other when they need someone to vent to.

They can communicate using only body language, facial expressions, and eyes.

They sometimes nap together and when they do the younger boys always tease them about it.

The rare times these two disagree the other members will shout “OH NO MOM AND DAD ARE FIGHTING” and it always breaks any tension the two previously had and they apologize to each other and stop arguing/bickering instantly.

Speaking of, did I mention they bicker like a married couple at times.

They trust each other with their lives.

Since Chan is the only member older than Evie she always plays up any small injury or clumsiness so he will dote on her.

Stray Kids would probably derail into chaos if it weren’t for these two keeping the younger boys in check, but also Evie is part of the problem at times egging them on.

Evie often overworks herself so Chan is always there to check up on her to make sure she isn’t doing too much.

Iconic Moment: Evie got injured and had to sit on the side of the stage during a few performances. During one particular performance he actually didn’t leave her side, dancing next to her and stopping often to dote on her and give her gentle touches on her shoulders and arm to reassure her she is still seen and adored. When it came to her parts he’d stop and stare at her with his face in his hands and it made her push him away playfully with one hand. Stay said that performance was proof of how much Chan actually relies on Evie during performances and vice versa as they seem to keep each other in a better place mentally. Evie recalls that during that particular performance she was having a lot of anxiety and didn’t want anyone to know but she said it felt like he and Hyunjin saw through her mask and were there to help her through it and that if it wasn’t for them she’d probably would’ve asked to skip that performance all together.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Lee Know (MinRi)

Quote: "Without obsession, life is nothing." Dynamic: Yandere x Tesundere

Lee Know’s contact in her phone is “💖Lover Boy💖” and her contact in his phone is “My Demon”

Evie is constantly staring at Lee Know and is often admiring him from afar. When she catches his gaze she always quickly looks away and it causes him to smirk.

Evie tends to silently follow Lee Know around without realizing it. For example one time he got up and walked away while she was spacing out and she instinctively followed after him a few moments later confusing everyone around her.

Evie is obsessed with any sort of skinship from Lee Know but she doesn’t dare ask for it, she just waits for him to initiate it especially when fans can see them.

Lee Know likes to stare Evie in the eyes because he enjoys her flustered and slightly panicked reaction.

On stage Lee Know will often glance at Evie and has even winked at her a few times and everytime she gets butterflies and lets out a quiet gasp.

When Lee Know gets upset with Evie he tends to ignore her and he has stated that he doesn’t mean to, he just wants to withdraw so he doesn’t hurt her because he knows how close they are to each other.

They tend to blow kisses at each other randomly and flirt aggressively.

Evie says anytime Lee Know isn’t around she feels like the energy around her feels cold and empty.

Evie gets extra giggly and giddy around Lee Know.

Lee Know teases her constantly and sometimes it can come off a bit harsh or mean to others but it’s all out of love and Evie knows that.

Evie has stated that Lee Know is one of her favorite people and that life would never be the same without him.

When she’s overwhelmed she goes and sits with his cats who adore her and she jokes that she is their mom.

She used to cling to him constantly but after some rumors that they were dating she stopped almost all public skinship with him and other members unless they initiate it and she seems a lot more stressed/depressed now because of it.

He calls her his demon.

She always wants to be with him and is like a lost puppy around him.

Evie tends to fight anyone who is mean to him.

Iconic Moment: During a vLive Lee Know and Evie got into an argument and it was cut short when he had pinned her to a wall. Staff had rushed into the room to turn the stream off after they noticed the two’s simple bickering seemed to turn into a full blown argument and when they saw him pull her up they knew they needed to end the stream.

“Oh Minho, quit whining like a little bitch dude, it wasn't that damn serious.” Evelyn says while rolling her eyes at him.

Minho stands up and grabs her arms pulling her with him and he pins her to the wall raising an eyebrow at her, “What the hell did you just say to me Nari?” he asks coldly.

Evelyn stares at him blankly and smirks. “You’re being a wee cunt mate.” she spits with venom and that’s when staff was able to end the live stream, or so they thought.

One of the staff members just sighed and told them to fix their problems or else they’d have to trade rooms and then walked away. Lee Know and Evie didn’t break eye contact as the staff spoke to them.

“Nari, why are you acting so defensive? These were all just gentle jokes. Is there something you aren’t saying?”

Evie lets out a flustered sigh when she realizes how close they are. “I’m sorry.” she says truthfully.

“That’s what I fucking thought. Behave. Do you understand me? We won’t be having something like this happening again, yeah?”

“Yes Minho, I’m sorry for being an ass.” she says, staring deeply at him and he steps away from her and she just falls to the floor.

When Lee Know got back to the phone he noticed the live was still going and just said “Shit.” as it ended. That’s when their dating rumors started and JYP quickly shut that down after confirming with the idols that they were in fact not in a relationship. Since then Evie watches her tongue on lives and refuses to speak out line.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Changbin (NaBin)

Quote: “If you can dream it, you can do it.” Dynamic: Gym Buddies

Their contact in each other’s phone is “Gym Buddy”

One of Evie’s first videos posted on instagram is actually of them working out.

They tend to work out together a lot hence them being gym buddies.

Changbin is why Evie started boxing after he encouraged her to do it.

They tend to tease each other a lot.

Changbin says he has the most fun working out when he is with Evie.

They eat a lot of food together.

Luna seems to like Changbin more than Evie at times.

Changbin and Evie share playlists with each other a lot.

Changbin is actually the member Evie clings to the least.

Evie and Changbin often play fight.

Changbin lets Evie win in arm wrestling because he doesn’t like seeing her pout when he beats her.

Changbin and Evie have accidentally kissed on the mouth before and it was awkward for like a month after that.

Changbin, although younger than Evie, sees her like a little sister more than a big sister.

They have rap battles randomly at times.

Changbin and Evie radiate the same vibe “dark but is actually soft”

Evie hates doing aegyo but will do it if it’s with/for with Changbin.

Iconic Moment: During one of the performances of “Maniac” Evie had started to feel faint and Changbin kept checking on her throughout, touching her arm to make sure she wouldn’t fall and even handing her his water bottle during the performance, she refused at first but the younger boy insisted again and she quickly took a sip while still dancing. She ended up getting even more light headed and Changbin literally dragged her off stage to make sure she didn’t faint and hurt herself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Hyunjin (HyunRi)

Quote: "He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." Dynamic: Twin Flame/Other Half

Hyunjin’s contact in her phone is “🥰My Other Half!🥰” her contact in his phone is “My Aussie Angel”

They both agree that meeting each other felt like it was meant to happen and that their lives have thrived more since meeting.

The amount of love these two show each other and have for each other is utterly insane.

It doesn’t matter what Evie is feeling Hyunjin already knows, and vice versa.

“I want to be alone… no no like alone but only with you.” ~Evie like twice a day to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin kisses Evie on the top of her head/her forehead and on her cheeks and says that’s his favorite way to show love to her.

When Evie is overly stressed in public situations Hyunjin will grab her hand and give it a squeeze or will hug her and sort of cover her from others.

They are lowkey (highkey) obsessed with each other and more often than not spend most of their free time together.

Other than Lee Know, Hyunjin is the other member in SKZ that can make Evie flustered with extreme ease.

Hyunjin doesn’t like to see her cry and will often wipe her tears away gently and listen to anything she needs to say.

Everything they do together strengthens their friendship and their bond and they both agree that their lives would be extremely different had they not met before.

Hyunjin initiates skinship the most out of the members with Evie knowing she doesn’t like initiating skinship after the last scandals she had.

Hyunjin likes to put his hand on her thigh and squeeze it.

Evie likes to play with his hair.

Often when Evie plays games Hyunjin will come in and watch her and lay his head on her shoulder while she plays.

Evie and Hyunjin go on walks often.

Hyunjin always gets shy if Evie initiates any sort of flirting or skinship with him first.

Iconic Moment: Their hiatuses in 2021 had overlapped with one another and one day during their hiatus Hyunjin had gone into Evie’s room while she was streaming while gaming and just sat with her and kept her company. The conversation they had warmed Stays heart and still to this day will randomly go viral.

“Nari?” Hyunjin said in his usual super kind and gentle tone when he speaks to Evie.

“Yes Jinnie?” She glanced at him while still gaming.

Sheepishly he asked, “Why do you like me so much?”

Evie pauses her game and turns to him. “What do you mean?” She asked in a confused tone.

He simply shrugged and just asked again. “Why do you like me so much?”

She smiled at him and gently hugged him before responding. “I like you so much because you're Hyunjinnie. Since day one you’ve always just sorta understood me. You’ve cared for me, doted over me, loved me. You’ve always been a goodness in my life that I’ve been missing. Hyunjinnie, you’re one of my favorite people. Your soul is so pure and I’m glad that I can share a part of my world with yours.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened and he started to get flustered and he looked down. “Really?” his voice cracked.

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends! I love you Hyunjinnie! WE love you!” she said as she pointed to the live stream. “You’re such a strong person and you inspire me a lot to be a better dancer. I adore you Hyunjinnie and I always will, okay?”

“I adore you too Nari!”

They hugged and then she went back to her game. Stay kept commenting on how happy Hyunjin seemed after the words Evie had said to him. Stay also asked if he would show up more during his hiatus but he never joined Evie on any of the live streams she did during their hiatuses.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Han (SungRi)

Quote: "I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen." Dynamic: “Twinsies”

Their contact in each other’s phone is “Twinsies” after the post that Evie made.

Evie will harmonize with Han anytime he randomly bursts into song and vice versa.

They actually have a matching pair of pajamas that they like to wear when they plan to watch movies together.

Han will always join Evie when she’s coloring because the peaceful energy that she radiates while coloring helps him relax.

They usually watch horror movies together.

They say “jinx” whenever they say the same thing at the same time.

Crackhead energy.

They both grew close very quickly due to both of them having similar likes and similar hobbies.

They can’t sit in silence because they will both just start laughing if it’s too quiet.

They shop online together a lot.

Evie likes to spoil Han.

Evie babies Han the most right behind how much she babies Jeongin of course.

They don’t do a lot of skinship because they’d rather just spend time together than physically touching one another.

They like to be goofy together and aren’t allowed to be sat next to each other because of it

They bicker like true siblings.

Much like with Chan, Evie likes to watch him produce songs when he does.

Evie’s favorite form of physical contact with Han is to squish his cheeks or boop his nose and Han kind of hates it lol

Iconic Moment: They posted pictures of them in their matching pajamas and Evie captioned it as “Twinsies” and ever since, it doesn’t matter what they wear or what they do if they look at all similar Stay will jokingly say that they are twining. During Stay Selca day a lot of Stay will take pictures with their friends in matching outfits and caption it “twinsies” as well to honor the iconic post.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Felix (EveLi)

Quote: "Happiness is a drug, and I want to be your dealer." Dynamic: Black Cat x Orange Cat

Felix’s contact in her phone is “✨My Goofball✨” and her contact in his phone is “My Void”

They are the literal definition of “black cat girlfriend” and “orange cat boyfriend.”

Felix gets her out of her shell really easily.

They stargaze often.

Felix always knows how to make Evie smile and laugh.

They are VERY touchy.

Felix is obsessed with her dogs.

They are obsessed with each other’s voices.

Mimic each other often.

Evie always cringes when Felix does his ASMR but she always watches everything he posts or does because she loves him so much.

One of her best friends in the entire world.

When they cuddle she likes to lay her head on his chest and listen to his heart beat while he plays with her hair and she’ll instantly pass out when that happens regardless of if she’s tired or not. Felix does in fact use this tactic to get her to sleep since she doesn’t sleep like she should.

CONSTANTLY ROASTING EACH OTHER OML

Lowkey bullies each other off camera because that’s their love language.

Constantly wanting each other's attention even if they have someone else’s attention.

G A M I N G B U D D I E S. If Evie even thinks of gaming without Felix he pitches a fit and vice versa.

They are actually really chaotic together but also insanely iconic and loveable no one complains about it (expect for poor Chan)

Iconic Moment: Evie posted on instagram that she hit masters in support and Felix shared it and told her to touch grass. She replied “maybe if you touched some ass you’d be better at games lil bro.” and the clapback went viral. Evie later on her IG story told Stay that these sort of interactions are normal and that she wasn’t being mean to him worried they’d see her savage response as bullying.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x Seungmin (NaMin)

Quote: "When you can't look at the bright side, I will sit with you in the dark." Dynamic: Doberman x Golden Retriever

Seungmin’s contact in her phone is “🐶My Pup🐶” and her contact in his phone is “My Racoon”

Evie is extremely overprotective of Seungmin.

Seungmin enjoys Evie’s company because she is usually really calm and quiet around him so they can usually just sit in silence and be content.

Seungmin doesn’t put up with Evie’s bullshit and vice versa.

Roasting the ever living fuck out of each other constantly.

Evie unironically will say “your mom” in response to Seungmin.

When Seungmin sings, Evie gets captivated and says she’s in love with his voice. She has literally said “If I could marry a singing voice it’d be Seungminnie’s.”

They seem like they hate each other but really they are just normally quiet around each other, they bring out each other’s calm collective energy.

Always have lowkey judgmental faces.

Always talking mad shit to one another. Evie will literally say “What’s (the) tea?” to him.

Evie always makes Seungmin laugh and smile because she said it’s one of the main highlights of her day to see him happy.

An unlikely duo but surprisingly they mesh well together.

The member Evie is least likely to steal clothes from.

Evie and Seungmin never really bicker.

Seungmin really enjoys pushing Evie’s buttons but she never gives him the reaction he’s looking for.

They are probably reading books together somewhere.

Evie sometimes talks too fast for Seungmin to keep up so he says “Huh?” to her a lot and she always goes “HuH?!” back before she repeats herself.

Iconic Moment: Seungmin showed the massive soft spot he has for Evie during a behind the scenes video. Evie had slipped and fallen and hurt ankle but had to pretend she didn’t get hurt to finish shooting for that day as she didn’t want to delay anything due to her own clumsiness. Seungmin was the first one to notice the older girl in pain and he kept checking up on her asking her if she was sure she wasn’t hurt. Evie never lies to Seungmin as he is really good at reading her body language and was honest with him.

“I just hurt my ankle a bit, I think I may have twisted it or sprained it but I’ll be okay we just need to finish this right? Then I can rest.”

“No, I'd like you to rest now, hyung.” he urged, helping her to a chair.

“Seungmin. You’re a pain in my ass bud.”

“Someone needs to keep you in check.” Seungmin then told staff about her injury and she did in fact sprain it.

Nothing was delayed by her injury so they were confused as to why they didn’t just be honest with them but they didn’t question it. Seungmin checked on her often and even gave her a hug, something that he doesn’t typically do with Evie when cameras are around. When staff asked why Seungmin was so concerned when Evie had already mentioned she was okay to which he answered.

“Nari hyung can be very reckless and would rather avoid conflict than take care of herself. Sometimes we have to remind her that she is still human and keep her in line. I love her and I don’t want to see her in any pain.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Evie x I.N (Evein)

Quote: "When I count my blessings I count you twice." Dynamic: Mother, Son Love

Jeongin’s contact in her phone is “🦊Baby Boy🦊” and her contact in his phone is “Nari Noona”

Jeongin is the only member that Evie allows to call her noona and he likes to rub it in the face of the other boys, it’s like his bragging right.

Evie always calls Jeongin her son and she dotes on him every chance she can.

She is EXTREMELY overprotective of Jeongin.

If you have a problem with Jeongin you have a problem with Evie too.

She’d do literally anything for this man.

She SPOILS him. Anything he wants???? He gets it.

He adores Evie almost as much as she adores him.

They cringe at each other often.

Evie likes to draw and color things for Jeongin.

Jeongin vents/rants to Evie often and trusts her a lot.

Jeongin likes to try and piss Evie off because her swearing is funny to him.

They don’t spend a lot of time together but the time they do share together is always worth it.

When they go out to eat they always eat way too much food.

Jeongin likes to make Evie laugh and will go out of his way to make sure she laughs or smiles at least once a day because of him.

He is also protective of her just as she is of him.

They really enjoy making fun of JYP together.

Iconic Moment: There is an entire compilation on Youtube called “Evie Mothering Jeongin for 30 Minutes and 30 seconds.” and the entire thing is moments where Evie is just being utterly soft for Jeongin and she’s taking really good care of him. One moment in particular went viral for a while.

Evie had woken Jeongin up and he didn’t want to wake up yet so he sorta curled into her and told him if he at least sat up she’d get him so breakfast in bed and that boy damn near shot up out of that bed and she just chuckles and shakes her head and she kisses him on his head before she heads to go make breakfast for the boys.

While she was walking away Evie could hear Jeongin say “What? Noona cooks the best breakfast!” causing her to shake her again and laugh.

Once she finished breakfast she called all the boys to come eat and takes Jeongin his plate as promised but he ended up following her out and ate with her instead and said that he missed his noona while she was cooking.

#pupphe #pupphe additions #pupphe evie #evie w skz #evie w stray kids #evie dynamics #evie dyanmics w skz #evie dynamics w stray kids #kpop addition #stray kids addition #skz addition #stray kids added member #skz added member #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #kpop oc #fictional kpop oc #fake kpop idol

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yeehawbvby · 3 months ago

Text

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 7*

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: Vera picks some very interesting hair dye for the farmer. March goes feral for it.

Author’s Note: No smut yet, but the end of this chapter is the lead-up. Do what you will with that info ;3c

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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The following weekend, Celine and December found themself inspecting Merri’s haunted attic furniture set with tilted heads and curious eyes.

“How does she make those spiderwebs so realistic?” Celine wondered.

“Real spiders,” her friend joked in turn.

“Ew, what?!”

“‘Ew?’ You don’t want little guys living in your dresser?”

“Why would I want insects in my dresser?” She furrowed her brow, “What if they‘re an invasive species and kill all my plants?”

December, who was a recent bug enjoyer thanks to her quests for Luc as of late, held back the intense urge to correct her — spiders are arachnids, thank you — instead responding, ”I can appreciate that you’re more worried about your plants than your clothes.”

The florist shrugged, “I’ll just pawn the critters off to Luc as I find them on me throughout the day.”

Josephine and Hemlock, who were arm-in-arm and browsing the same set just a few steps away, interjected in unison. “Please don’t.”

December giggled while Celine pouted, “Too many bugs?”

“Too many spiders,” the bartender corrected.

Josephine nodded, then shuddered, “Those things get speedy.”

“I would be too if I had eight legs,” Celine reasoned.

Upon passing close by and hearing talk of things with eight legs, Luc rushed over to rattle off some spider facts, which the four adults gladly listened to. While the little guy’s bug hyperfixation could be annoying for his parents physically, they all admired his dedication to entomology.

As the conversation died off, with three-fifths of the inn-running family parting ways, December and Celine found their way to Olric, March and Merri on the other side of the stall. March had been singing high praise about Merri’s craftsmanship, so Olric politely broke off to hang out with the women. He wasn’t involved in the conversation anyway — he’d already showered Merri in plenty of compliments about her furniture this week.

Their conversation took a turn into one about rocks, as they usually tended to with Olric. When Celine cooed over how adorable the really round rock in the museum was, the conversation shifted into how seriously square the nearby stone on display had been.

As the trio slowed down, deciding if they should visit Darcy or Vera first, December brought up to Olric that she decided she would dye her hair. Like he’d reminded her, it’s not permanent. What was the worst that could happen?

He and Celine beamed, practically shoving December in Vera’s direction. “Get in there, tiger!” the gentle giant told her, a hearty pat on the back sending her stumbling an extra few inches forward.

March, who had just arrived from his chat with Merri, looked on as December cautiously approached the hairdresser. He couldn’t imagine her with anything other than long, white hair. He also couldn’t help but wonder what she was planning to do with it.

Meanwhile, as Olric suggested, December requested to Vera that she take the reins, only asking that she wouldn’t cut her hair more than an inch or so. She often just trimmed it herself, and was pretty particular about it.

Now, Vera was just as interested in Mistria’s gossip as anyone else. She was only human, and she could never simply brush off her clients’ tales about the town’s happenings. That said, she’d heard all the talk about December and March, she’d seen them glued to each other’s sides some weeks, and she’d watched as the grouchy blacksmith finally found someone to soften him up a bit — even if only slightly.

While she didn’t want to disappoint a clearly nervous customer with a full mane of bright red to match her “boyfriend’s,” no matter how badly she was itching to go nuts on such a perfectly blank canvas, she did think a nod to him could be fun. So, after a quick trim, Vera got to work on creating a small ombré that shifted her hair from its natural ivory down into a light blonde, which then faded into a coppery red-orange, and finished off with a dark brown. The dye was only on the bottom handful of inches of her mane, and then the lower inch or so of her bangs.

December wasn’t allowed to look until it was completed, and when she finally did, she thought it was a little strange, but very cute nonetheless. It was subtle enough to not make her feel overdone, and unique enough to give her some extra flair. She noted to herself, too, how downright impressive Vera’s precision with the dye on her fringe was.

“How’d you come up with this?” she asked, fiddling with a few strands.

“You’ve been hanging out with your new beau so much,” the hairdresser smiled, “so I made you into a little forge-toasted marshmallow!” She punctuated her words with a wink.

…Oh.

That answer turned December’s cheeks crimson while she barked a nervous laugh into her palm. March, Olric and Celine — who had been watching the full process save for a short break to grab drinks and snacks from the next stall over — were embarrassed, delighted, and positively tickled respectively.

Dell had been walking past as the explanation went on, returning from a bathroom break at the General Store. She slowed down to be nosy, as one tended to in this small town. Upon hearing the news, she gasped and giggled and ran to alert the rest of the Dragonguard — and by proxy of her volume, several others nearby — who all responded in a similar fashion.

Juniper’s hearty laugh could be heard from the chair December sat in. Elsie was already taking notes for a future romance novel she’d write. Jo and Hemlock — who’d been secretly rooting for the farmer and the blacksmith to get together for months — shared a laugh at such a public display of affection.

Just like that, the pair had become the talk of the town once again.

December’s laughs died into something more airy as she inspected and played with her ends. Vera kept her hair straight, but curled the bottom inch or so into some spiky swoops and styled it half-up into a messy bun to showcase the dye. It was soft, fun to look at, and the bottom portion was perfect for fiddling with at a time like this, which was exactly what December did.

“So? How are we feeling?”

“I—” she paused, smiling and letting out one last flustered breath, “I love it, actually.”

Vera’s smile at her answer could have lit up the whole town square. Nearby, Olric and Celine both nudged March from either side, and March…

Well.

At first, he felt sheepish, a little guilty that December was put under more social pressure — in a subtle way — to be “his.”

But, as much as this did put more of a target on her head for teasing, she liked it. Loved it, even.

Why did that make him proud? Why was he suddenly so hung up on her being showcased as “his,” all over some silly hair dye? Why was the whole idea of “burning” the local “snow angel” so rewarding to him?

He wondered, too, why did it really arouse him?

“—looks great!”

March was ripped from his thoughts by Olric loudly complimenting the woman in question. Despite still being rosy, December had a hard time containing her smile. She wasn’t sure if it was more nervousness about the concept, or happiness about the change in her appearance fueling it at this point, but the distinction made no difference to March, who basked in her curved lips and bright eyes and currently-present dimples and “toasted” hair like it was the last few things he’d ever have the pleasure to see.

“Y-yeah!” he agreed.

December and Celine were taken aback by his enthusiasm for a moment, but the farmer was glad nonetheless. She had no idea how he’d take this. At least it seemed like he was a fan.

“Well,” Olric started, “I should get a trim before someone else swoops in there. I’ll see you guys around!”

He gave the three villagers a fist bump each before parting. Just as that interaction closed, Celine was summoned by Dell, thus breaking off from the remaining pair with a wave.

“Sorry” was the first word out of December’s mouth once they were alone.

March furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I didn’t ask Vera to do this,” she clarified, once again playing with the newly colored ends of her hair, “I let her choose.”

March was quiet. From an outside perspective, he appeared pensive. December was unsure of what to make of it.

“I…” March could hardly contain himself at this point, and shook his head, “Fuck. I love it.” He practically growled his words. The farmer’s eyes widened, her stomach fluttering. “Come here,” he ordered, taking her hand.

“Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“Oh.” While they passed by the fountain, she asked, “Why?”

March mumbled under his breath, “Can’t do this shit anymore.”

Whoa. What?

December paled.

Wordless while she wondered what he meant by that, she feared that he was going to cut things off with her over some hair dye that he’d literally just complimented. That this was it, that her heart was about to be shattered by March before she could even call him her boyfriend, man, partner, whatever. That she’d have to go back to Vera and ask her to help her chop the dyed portions of her hair off, in turn saving her from thinking about the blacksmith every time she saw her own reflection.

In reality, he just really wanted to fuck her.

They still hadn’t had sex. They could have. They’d wanted to several times. They were very vocal about that fact, which led to some flirty, funny shenanigans in its own right. At this point, they were holding back purely out of spite for the people — mainly Juniper, of course — who insisted they’d already crossed that road. It was all for the bit.

So the farmer’s worries were quelled a short moment later, right as they stepped into the smithy. March practically slammed the door behind them, pinning December to it with his lips while he scooped her up by her thighs.

She was too stunned to question it, gladly squeezing March’s hips between her legs to better support herself and wrapping an arm around his neck, her other hand resting against his cheek.

March had his own question instead. “How are you feeling?”

Assuming that he wasn’t just trying to exchange pleasantries at a time like this, December answered with her health for the day in mind. She sighed against his lips, “Not great.” He stole another kiss before she asked, “Why?”

March answered her inquiry with another, pressing his forehead to hers, “How does that stuff work when it comes to sex?”

December’s eyes widened. “Hypothetically, or..?”

“No.” His answer was instant, his eyes now boring into hers. “No, I want to know for right now.”

The farmer’s body was burning up. Her eyes trailed down to his lips again while she opened her mouth, trying to form words that wouldn’t come out. Her excitement temporarily rendered her speechless, but quickly turned into anxiousness.

Ever since one of the first times December had taken care of herself after her accident, she’d been afraid for this time to come; to have to admit to someone that she would be, in plenty of people’s eyes, almost useless beyond this point in intimacy. Sure, she could walk and run and lift and pull and do whatever else she needed to from day to day, but those things could get hard, and sex would be no different. If anything, she knew it would be worse, given how foreign and strenuous the movements were.

How often did she really need to straddle or sit on something, while repeatedly squatting and/or bouncing?

The answer was never. Literally never.

And December knew how cruel people could be. How harshly women were judged overall — even in a society so sensitive towards gender equality, like Aldaria’s — never failed to transfer to their abilities in bed. If anything, the latter was several times worse, given how entitled so many people could feel with intimacy. The absolute last thing she needed was a harsh opinion to dampen her already low self-esteem when it came to this; and while she felt she was probably safe with March, she couldn’t know for sure how he would react until this very moment.

“U-um,” she hesitated, “I can’t really do much.”

Luckily, the redhead had no quarrels to make. He would still want to be with her even if sex wasn’t an option at all. March’s grip tightened on December’s thighs, and he leaned in as if to kiss her again, but faked her out.

Instead, he murmured, “So you’ll be my pillow princess then?”

She felt her soul leave her body as she breathed, shaky and quietly, “Holy shit.”

He smirked, proud of the effect he had on her. “Come on, December, focus,” March softly demanded when she didn’t answer his question.

Whatever was left of her corporal form was gone forever, she feared. She nodded almost desperately, her heart threatening to thump out of her chest. In turn, March had never felt cockier in his life, other than maybe whenever he received and bragged about his copious blacksmithing awards.

He prodded, “You’d want that?” After another nod, he searched for more explicit consent, “Say it.”

She was quiet for a moment before she complied.“I want it,” with her eyes plastered on March’s mouth, yearning for him to kiss her again.

He was having none of that. “Hey,” he leaned down slightly to catch her eyes. “Look at me while you say it.” His tone coated December in goosebumps. When she brought her gaze up to meet his, he doubled down, “Tell me you want it.”

This didn’t even feel real to her. “I want it.”

“Perfect.” He finally kissed her before lifting her away from the door, their lips barely parting as he carried her to his room.

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