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[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter nine

chapter nine

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werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: things take a turn for the worse.

Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.

chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.

You were so, so wrong. 

That much is clear when you wake up.

The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night. 

The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit. 

The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication. 

It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move. 

The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes. 

You really, truly are in some deep shit. 

You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this? 

He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared. 

“I didn’t–I’m–” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips. 

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”

You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears. 

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 

Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this. 

His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run. 

His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive. 

Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss. 

Or a growl.

His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.

 

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 

He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know. 

As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek. 

And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really. 

It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.

“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag. 

There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect. 

“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns. 

He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.” 

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 

You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open. 

He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor. 

The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum. 

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

—

It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.

Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned. 

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell. 

For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins. 

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast. 

There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 

The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood. 

It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper. 

A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed. 

The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in. 

“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”

He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt. 

You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat. 

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 

No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell. 

It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him. 

—

You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt. 

As soon as it sounds, you break.

“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.

He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs. 

“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him. 

He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper. 

“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.” 

In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.

It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.

“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.

You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”

But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping. 

“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.” 

It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.

He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who. 

It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you. 

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you. 

There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness. 

It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again. 

It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying. 

It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust. 

His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been. 

You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe. 

You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again. 

—

“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”

He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there. 

And yet.

The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word. 

That’s not what happens, though.

His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious. 

“My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 

You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle. 

“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in. 

“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead. 

“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”

“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.” 

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 

“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.

He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.” 

“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening. 

“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes. 

You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek. 

It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen. 

This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.

“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie. 

“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.

He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.

You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?” 

This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest. 

And yours. 

No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised. 

“What’s the matter?” He barks. 

“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.

“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through. 

But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.

[iamsebastiansstan]

like one of your girls - NAC x fem!reader

summary - “Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - lots of dirty talk as always, crying during sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f), creampie, aftercare 🥹

A/N - I dedicate this chapter to @hoffmansgirl because he's literally doing it rn girl like literally !!! anyways, this update was fast but I probably won't be writing much for the next few weeks, I GOTTA STUDY lmao come tell me what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

taglist - @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby /

PART 1

Waking up next to him is like a dream she never wants to wake up from. She’s watching him as his eyelids flutter open, his nose scrunches up, as he stretches his strong arms above his head and groans adorably while looking at her through squinted eyes. 

“You been awake long?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no. 

He’d spooned her last night, she remembers, they both needed that closeness without crossing too many lines, and already she’s feeling withdrawals, missing having his body heat along her back. It isn’t awkward now, but the tension can definitely be felt in the air.

“Good. When do you need to get back to New York?”

She thinks about it for a minute, heart beating fast. Is he asking to be polite or is he asking so they can make plans to see each other? She hopes to God it’s the latter.

“On Wednesday. I made plans with some friends to hang out while I’m still here.”

He hums, scratches the back of his shoulder. 

“Wanna give me your number? I’d quite like to see you again.”

Trying hard to keep her screaming internal, she reaches over to the bedside table and hands him her phone, watching as his nimble fingers type in his digits before pressing the call button. 

“Think my phone’s dead but the call should’ve gone through. Now we can text each other.”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like that.” 

They don’t keep their eyes off each other as they get dressed, him slipping into last night’s clothes and her into some fresh ones, and she can feel the want for him pool deep in her stomach, bitter at everything they didn’t get to experience yesterday, glad about what they did get to do.

“Hey, just one second, (Y/N),” he stops her as she’s about to leave the room and she turns, looks up at him when he steps close. “I’m gonna take the advice you gave me yesterday, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re a second option, a rebound, anything like that. I enjoyed yesterday immensely.” 

Her heart flutters at his consideration, but she only smiles and puts a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin softly. 

“I’m not here to make your life more complicated than it needs to be, Nicholas,” she assures and means it. “I enjoyed it too, and I’d love to see you again if possible. If not, then no hard feelings. We can be honest with each other. Friends get to do that, no?”

His nod is slow, the relief basically radiating off of him as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before opening the door for her, following her out.

Nicholas doesn’t stay for breakfast, but he kisses Cooper’s cheek and thanks him, hugs her with a quiet promise to text her, and soon enough she’s perched on a bar stool at Cooper’s kitchen island, spooning cereal into her mouth and doing her best to dodge his suspicious looks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says through a mouthful.

“Not looking at you like anything.” 

She levels him with a look, unimpressed.

“Ask what you want to ask or shut up entirely, Coop.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face, seemingly shy but his blazing eyes betray him as he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

She expected this, so she answers calmly. 

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question makes her stop for a moment, unsure how much she’s allowed to say.

“I think you know why. Are you mad?” 

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand in his.

“No, of course not. I’d be happy for both of you. But I know that you’re both,” he shoots her a meaningful look that she expertly ignores, “in a rough place in life right now, and I’d hate to see you take it out on each other.” 

She nods, understanding where he’s coming from.

“Is Nick going to get the same speech?” she asks, only half joking.

“A much stricter one, I can tell ya that!” 

She laughs as she gets up along with him to clean the mess from their breakfast up before she goes to meet with her aforementioned friends, heart fluttering the entire time at the prospect of Nick messaging her. 

*** 

She’s sitting in the park and sipping on her smoothie when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Tuning out her friends’ laughter for a minute, she takes it out to see that it’s from Nick, making excitement bubble up in her chest. She opens it immediately, not expecting anything, when suddenly the words make her want to choke on her own spit.

not to be too forward but I just made myself come to the thought of how tight your throat would be around me. I’ll be thinking about that for a long while.

Two seconds later:

hope you’re having a wonderful day. 

Trying not to seem like the mess he’s turned her into within seconds, she does her best to fight off the mental image his message is creating in her mind and reply somewhat coherently. 

You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that? I’m out and about and now I’m dripping. Thanks for nothing.

His reply doesn’t take long, has her taste blood from where she’s gnawing her bottom lip open. 

that’s how I want you baby, all the time. see you soon. 

She’s distracted for the rest of the day but when her friends ask her about it, she chalks it up to her stressful college courses and tight deadlines. Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, she’s had a nice time, and when she walks into Cooper’s house later, she’s got a beaming smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouts, taking off her shoes and hanging up her handbag by the door. 

“Honeys, please!” comes Stuart’s voice from the living room and she grins as she walks in, presses a kiss to the tops of their heads. 

“Missed ya at the party yesterday,” she says and plops down on the loveseat across from where they’re cuddled up on the couch. 

Friends is on. She hates that show.

“Yeah, I was sad I couldn’t make it, but Cooper is throwing a pool party tomorrow, so I’ll still get some fun in.” 

She’s surprised at hearing about yet another event, but she’s not complaining. 

“And drinks,” Cooper reminds him helpfully. “Lots of drinks as well.” 

They chat a little, watch a small part of some movie that’s on when Stuart switches the channel, stay up until it’s hard for her to suppress the yawning. Bidding them goodnight, she stands up to go into the guest room when Cooper calls out her name.

“He’ll be there tomorrow,” he lets her know, a kind little smile on his face, and she nods gratefully before ascending the stairs, ready for sleep.

The next morning, she doesn’t overthink it, mainly because she refuses to give up so much power so soon.

It’s just her usual routine; the shaving, the skincare, the comfy bikini, a midi dress over it. No make-up, just her necklace, she refuses to get dolled up for a pool party. From what she knows, it’ll be a much smaller affair than Friday’s party was, and she’s looking forward to it.

“I’ll handle the BBQ, could you just make the salad dressing and carry these out to the patio, (Y/N)?” Cooper asks her, and she obliges gladly.  

They set everything up rather quickly, the guests start arriving soon, and she tries her hardest not to stop in her tracks when she sees Nicholas walk out through the glass doors of the living room, hugging everyone he knows before he spots her. The way he rakes his eyes over her body before settling on her face makes heat creep up her neck, and she knows that it’s got nothing to do with today’s temperature. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greets her, wraps his arms around her to give her a good squeeze.

“Hey, you,” she smiles, inhales his fresh scent, enjoys having him in her arms again. “How have you been?” 

The breath he exhales as he pulls away is deep, it lets her know that things have gone down, but the private smile he gives her makes the oncoming worry in her mind disappear. 

“I’ve been alright so far, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

She nods, cheeks warming. “Okay. Come find me.”

She allows herself to be open, truthful in her wants, and he chuckles at that, squeezes her shoulder.

“Always.” 

They don’t sit next to each other during lunch, but they keep glancing over the table and finding each other’s eyes, and every single time it happens, it makes the heat coil tighter in her stomach. He looks fucking good today, ruffled hair and a loose button-down that he keeps open, muscular chest flashing at every turn. At some point he puts his sunglasses on and turns his head straight in her direction, but she can’t tell if she’s being stared at or not, faltering during the conversation she’s trying to have with one of the girls at the party. 

When they’re all full and satiated, they go and find their own things to do: some go to swim a few laps or just cool off in the pool, some go to lounge by the grass and read, some stay at the table and keep drinking and chatting. She decides to walk over to the big tree at the back of the garden, finding a comfortable spot on the outdoor sofa under it and laying down, head comfortably resting on a small pillow. It’s not like she’s hoping he’ll find her there; she knows he is going to come and join her eventually. She just needs a little breather yet again, getting easily overwhelmed in big groups of people.

“And here you are, sneaking off again,” she hears his voice after Lord knows how much time has passed, and she can’t help the slow smile that spreads across her face. 

“My social battery empties quickly,” she starts to explain as she watches him sit down at the end of the outdoor couch, but what she doesn’t expect is for him to grab her legs and drape them over his lap, rubbing up and down one foot lightly.

“D’you mind?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, ‘s comfortable.” 

They sit in silence like that for a little, just looking at each other, and she can feel a lump grow in her throat. Never has she wanted somebody as badly as him, and the restraint she has to show is otherworldly at this point. 

“What happened, Nicholas?” she dives straight in, direct as always, watches him exhale deeply.

“Well,” he laughs, no humor behind it. “I had that conversation with her yesterday.” 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” she asks, heart in her throat. 

She thinks back on what he told her, that he’s scared to give in to his ex, that he might let her convince him to try one more time, one more moment, one more fuck, and she feels pathetic for how scared she is that he’ll tell her that this is it, it’s over between them before it even started. 

“She took it well. I hate hurting her, I really struggled, but she… she didn’t put up a fight,” he explains, and a wave of relief mixed with guilt washes over her, has her breathe easier. “She knows, I think. We both do.” 

“You still love her, though, don’t you?” she presses, winces when he grabs her foot and digs in, massages at a sore spot.

His smirk tells her he isn’t sorry.

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t mine to have anymore, and I am so okay with that.” 

“Do you feel bad about Friday night?”

He scoffs, pulls her foot up to his mouth and presses a kiss against it, has her gut clenching from the motion, so intimate, so familiar. 

“There’s nothing I’ve felt better about in a while, I’ll be honest.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. Wanting to jump him right here, but cautious considering their surroundings. Wanting to have him but wanting to keep building the tension to see what happens when he snaps. 

It’s hard having a filter in his presence, so she blurts out, “How many more times have you thought about me having you down my throat since you texted me yesterday?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas chokes and throws his head back, eyes shut as if it’s hurting him to think about it.

“I need to know, Nick.” 

“Last night again… then this morning, as I was getting ready to come here.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Last night before or after you went to see her?” 

His brown eyes are wide when she looks into them, they’re honest and sincere, which is why it hits so much harder when he tells her, “Both.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest, needing to collect herself. “You’re a bastard, Nicholas.” 

“I can’t help it,” he smirks, reaches out to lay a hand on her knee but not moving closer. “What about you? Did you have to help yourself out at all?”

She nods dumbly, unable to look away from his face.

“Last night, as well. Three times. I couldn’t sleep without it.” 

A bite to his lips tells her he’s imagining it, thinking about it.

“Did you give yourself any fingers? Or did you only play with your clit?”

“M-my clit, didn’t put anything inside of me.” 

She feels the increase of her pulse, feels the tingle in her core at the way he looks at her, devours her with his gaze.

“Why not, little girl?”

“I want the next thing to fill me to be you, Nicholas,” she confesses, lays herself bare and relishes in the devastation her words cause him, the way his jaw drops, his brows raise. 

It’s safe, she reminds herself, he’s safe. She can be vulnerable with him, can let him throw her against the wall and trust that he’ll pick up the shattered pieces to put her back together. 

“You’re killing me, do you know that? The things I wanna do to you…” he trails off, stares into the distance for a moment. “I’ve never wanted to do them to another person. I don’t even fucking know you.”

“No, but you see me. And I don’t need to know what those things are, Nicholas. I feel them. And I want them, too.” 

A harsh puff of air leaves his nose before he’s leaning back, gazing at her, face resolute.

“Go to the room upstairs and wait for me there, will you?” 

She nods, mind and heart racing, does as she’s told as she gets up on shaky legs, knees nearly buckling. Making sure her walk isn’t too fast as not to rouse suspicion but fast enough to show him that she wants this, so he can see- and he certainly is watching her ass as she’s leaving- that she’s on board with what he’s trying to do.

She meant what she said: she doesn’t need to know, she feels it. 

Arriving in the guest room, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, nerves getting the best of her and leaving her nearly dizzy. She splashes some cold water on her face before cupping her hands and letting the water from the tap fill them, bringing them to her mouth and swallowing mouthfuls before she turns it off. The image that greets her in the mirror is one she hasn’t seen often: a woman delirious with lust, eyes glazed over and cheeks blotchy. 

A sound from the outside makes her dry her face off quickly before stepping out, seeing Nicholas shut and lock the door, eyes dark.

They say nothing as he stands across from her and puts a hand on her cheek, runs his thumb across her lips, smiles when she takes the very tip of it between her teeth and bites down gently.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he asks, and she nods as he pushes his finger deeper into her mouth, presses down on her tongue and leaves it there. Her hands find his torso, his chiseled muscles to hold on to lest she loses balance, and she sucks his digit into her mouth deeply, hollows her cheeks as they keep staring at each other. “You’re a good cocksucker as well, though, hm?”

She shrugs cheekily, smiles around his finger when he chuckles. She pulls away, then, kisses the tip of his thumb. 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

The way he rolls his eyes playfully is so sexy, takes away some of the suffocating seriousness that has crept into their dynamic without breaking the tension, without diminishing the spark they have. 

Large palms frame her face as he looks at her deeply, anticipation forcing her mouth to open in a gasp, and that’s when he takes his chance, claims her mouth in a kiss so sensual that it has her moaning into his lips. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find hers and he licks at her muscle, lets her in and deepens the kiss, makes it dirty but so full of lust and devotion that she can’t help but stand on her tippy toes to chase after that sensation. 

His hand finds her throat, grips it lightly yet makes her feel breathless, a dirty chuckle against her lips breaking their moment.

“You’ll let me in there, won’t you, baby?” he rasps, drives his finger down the front of her throat. “All the way inside?” 

She nods, stupid with want. “Yes, please let me. I need to taste you, Nicholas, fuck.” 

He kisses her again, then, toying with her mouth as his hands unzip her dress, pull it off her body, leaving her in only her bikini.

“Kneel in front of the bed, with your back facing it,” he instructs, burying his head in her neck and nibbling lightly, grinning at her gasp.

She does as she’s told, has little control over it, kneels obediently and looks up at him with a wet pout on her lips. Remembering what he told her last time, that no woman could ever take his cock down here throat, believing him. Despite its length, what probably causes trouble is the veiny thickness of it, the very thing that makes cunts drip for him being the reason for locked jaws and hurting lips.

The walk over to her is deliberately slow, he’s letting her stew in her desire for him, but she can’t even complain, not when she gets to observe even his most miniscule movements uninterrupted. The first thing she does when he’s right there is fall forward and bury her face in his crotch, over the material of his linen shorts, inhaling deeply. His clothes smell clean but there’s a musky undertone, something so distinctly man that it has her mouth watering.

“Shhh, there you go, get your fill,” he whispers, drives his hands through her hair and she’s so grateful he’s letting her express her desperation how she needs to. 

The balance of her body barely allows her to get up on her knees, but she manages, presses open mouthed kisses along his torso, as far up as she can reach. She licks into his navel, kisses down his happy trail, moans as she traces her tongue along the waistband of his briefs.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry for it,” she breathes, “please give it to me, I need it so bad.” 

Nicholas chuckles, a sound that hits her right in the chest, and untangles the strings of his pants. She’s glad he’s decided to take his shorts off completely, wrapping her hands around his thighs as soon as he’s stepped out of them and mouthing at his hard cock through his briefs, tongue tasting a salty wet spot and groaning into it.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re like a woman possessed,” he growls, all pride and no disgust, and it spurs her on to reach up and pull his cock out, get his underwear out of the way so she can really revel in everything his manhood has to give.

He discards his shirt as well, then, and there he is: her personal Greek God in all his glory, naked flesh for her to devour. 

A tear makes its way down her cheek and she’s done with waiting, needs for him to own her. 

“Please,” she breathes and smiles wickedly as he grabs his cock, pumps it once, twice before holding it by the base and- 

And slapping it across her face, the hit harder than she anticipated, making her cry out with nasty hunger.

“Again,” she begs, and he obeys with a wide-eyed stare, slaps her one more time, two more times before hooking his thumb in her mouth and pulling it open, praising her when she automatically sticks her tongue out.

Nick traces the leaking head of his cock over her tongue, and she could cry when the salt hits her tastebuds, the warmth of his flesh mixing with the wetness on her muscle.

“This is what you were made for, baby,” he says, praises her, talks as if he’s far away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me to ruin you, huh?” She nods her head before shaking it, making sure his precome coats all of her tongue, moans when he orders, “Suck this cock, sweetheart.” 

Not needing to be told twice, she engulfs the thick tip in her mouth, sucks on it as she moves her tongue down to coat his length in spit, to ease the way, to make it easier for him to claim the depths of her throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses above her, hands not ceasing their movement in her hair, and she sees it as motivation to keep going. The louder he is, the louder she wants him.

Some men like a mix between a willing mouth and two skilled hands, she knows, but today she wants to show him just how hungry she’s been for his cock since she met him, so she works her lips around him, determined to not need her hands for this. She sinks deeper and deeper, lets the accumulated spit from her mouth coat him, doesn’t mind the strings of it escaping and dripping down her chin, makes sure she keeps her eyes wide and on him as he’s struggling not to squeeze his shut.

“Halfway there, baby, you’re so fucking good f’me,” he moans, “Messy little girl, just like that.”

She lays her tongue out and takes a deep breath before pushing down stubbornly, eyes screwing up as he goes deeper and deeper, watching his slack jaw and wide eyes marveling at something he’s always wished to experience but never could, not with the women he’d been with before. Relaxing her throat and feeling him push through that last bit of resistance as she fights against her gag reflex, fights to keep it deep within her chest, fights through the pain it brings her not to openly cough at the intrusion in her body. She can’t stand it, not for long, and she has to pull away with a chest-wracking cough, trying to collect herself but delirious with the need to prove her devotion to him.

“Baby, that was amazing, just-“

“Fuck my throat, Nicholas,” she rasps through the tears, gets in position again and takes his cock in hand this time, jerks him a little until she gets herself under control again.

“(Y/N), are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be stopping until you give me a signal, no matter how much you cry, okay?”

Jesus Christ. She nods, determined. 

“I’ll tap your thigh twice if I need you to really stop, okay?” 

He bends down and kisses her deeply, wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers before straightening back up, gripping her by the hair and growling, “now open that fuckin’ throat for me.”

It’s animalistic, the way he takes her mouth, pushes his cock deep and keeps snapping his hips up, moaning loudly as she chokes, as she holds onto her own thighs just to have something to grip while he uses her. Inch by inch he fucks himself deep, groans her name, “My good girl, that’s right, show ‘em how it’s done,” knowing exactly how to spur her on, how to give her the strength to fight through her body’s struggles.

She’s gargling out spit, face wet and messy, when he finally, fucking finally manages to bottom out, bury her nose in his trimmed pubic hair, almost doubling over when she then sticks her tongue out until the back of her throat starts burning to lap at his balls with the tip of it, just to show him that there’s nothing stopping her from satisfying the hunger she has for him. 

“Ho- oh my fucking- ugh,” he moans, the tightness of her sending him into overdrive, the way her choking and swallowing around his cock stimulates his sensitive head making tears spring to his eyes. 

He grabs her by the hair and rips her back roughly, letting her breathe heavy for a minute before diving down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss, in awe at this woman kneeling in front of him.

“Fuck, that felt good,” she laughs manically against his mouth, tears and snot dripping from her face, but they don’t care, they’re reveling in the way they can mess each other up.

“You okay, baby? Your voice is fucked,” he smiles as she nods eagerly, clearing her throat.

“More, please, fuck my face just a little more,” she begs, watching his eyes widen at her request, but she doesn’t care. Now that she’s gotten a taste, she wants more. 

One hand in her hair and the other one on her jaw, he pushes between her lips again, keeps pushing until he’s in all the way and pulls her off again, watching her splutter and cough for a second before reeling her in again. Nicholas seems to enjoy that, watching her struggle with her throat full, struggle to catch her breath after, but whenever her eyes meet his in a silent plea, she sees the fire in his gaze burn that much brighter before he goes in to fuck her face again.

“No more,” he pants, grabs her by the arms and pulls her into a standing position, steadying her as her legs give out from having knelt for so long. “Fuck, I almost came down your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?” she pouts, face a total mess but causing him to smile at her warmly regardless.

“Don’ wanna, wanna shoot my load inside of you,” he mutters, makes her cheeks heat up.

“Next time, though?”

He laughs, kisses her swollen mouth.

“Promise, baby.”

Nick makes quick work of her bikini and gets her naked and sprawled across the bed in record time, writhing under his heated gaze as he just stands here, cock hard and dripping with her spit, watching her.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, eyes raking over her form, and with a shy bite to her lip she obliges, parts her legs and lets him look at where she’s sloppy wet for him. 

“Need you so bad, I’m all swollen,” she whines, watches as he positions himself between her legs, kisses along her stomach up to her tits.

The first nipple he takes into his hot mouth gets a quick bite shortly after, making her hiss, before he moves over to the second, giving it attention while she rakes her hands through his hair, lost in sensation.

It’s all she’s ever wanted and more, the fucked-out state of arousal that has her mind feeling honey sticky and slow, completely out of her own body. She focuses on his weight on top of her, the way his spit on her nipples paired with the cool air in the room gives her gooseflesh, and soon enough she’s whimpering as he trails his kisses in the direction of her center.

“Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in, licks her in broad stripes and has her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

All the blood rushes to her center and despite not even having been touched properly, the tension burns, makes her clit tingle where it’s being loved on by his clever tongue, and she can’t help but bury her hands in his hair and push her hips up into his awaiting mouth. Nicholas eats pussy like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever had, like it melts on his tongue, the way he pushes between her inner lips and slurps at the very source of her arousal. By now he knows how much she loves the attention on her little nub, so he sucks it into his mouth, taps his tongue against it until she’s arching off the bed, only being held down by his bulging arms. 

“N-Nick, fuck, fuck no-,“ she’s trying to push him off, the buildup of her climax making every limb tingle, but he holds on, holds her steady until she’s crying, begging, “please, let me come for you, please, please, pl- fuck-“

A hum of confirmation, the vibration of it hitting her core, is all it takes before she’s coming hard, pulling his head closer and trying to bat him away at the same time, and the minute her high decreases and her muscles relax he’s on her, kissing her lax mouth, pushing his tongue deep and letting her taste her pussy on his sinful lips. 

“Y’taste sweeter than I could’ve imagined,” he’s breathing hard against her mouth, “sweetest pussy just for me to take, ain’t it? Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”

The “Please,” punches out of her, already wrapping her legs around his torso so he’d slip in easier, giving him all the access and shouting into his shoulder as he slides his cock into her in one go, fills her up until she can feel him in her lungs. She pushes at his chest so he’d pull away, look at her, grabs him by the face and hisses “What the fuck are you, who the fuck- what are you doing t- to me?”

Nicholas’ laugh is amazed, top lip curled over his perfect teeth as he focuses on drilling into her hard, watching her lose her mind under him, watching her give herself over to him without a care in the world. He angles his hips just so, pelvic bone brushing against her clit with every thrust, making her see stars.

“You’ll come for me like this,” he promises, voice shot, “you’re so gorgeous, fuck. Look at you, can’t believe you’ll come for me again, I’ve got you-“

“Nick, please,” she cries, terrified of what her mind is making her body do, “I can’t-“

“You can and you will,” he snaps, grabs her by the face and pulls her close, kisses her pouting mouth. “Come for me, (Y/N), I wanna see you lose it.” 

She doesn’t pass out this time but she kind of wishes she did, because the groans and moans and pathetic whimpers that rip out of deep within her are sounds she’s never going to unhear now. If it were with anyone else, she’d be mortified, but he just talks her through it with pride in his voice as if she were his girl, his to coach and use and fuck and lo-

But isn’t she? She sure feels like it. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl, that’s right, oh I’m gonna come, baby-“

“Fill me up,” she whispers, lax now, letting herself be used and moved like a rag doll, “I wanna feel you dripping out of my pussy for days.”

“Oh shit, (Y/N)-“ and that does it for him, apparently, as he pushes in impossibly deep and spills inside of her, moaning into her neck and holding her close, filling her body and mind and heart, and dear God, she’s a fucking goner. 

The room smells like their sex, like musk, heady and dazed, makes her head spin where she’s laying under him and wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Nicholas’ breathing is labored but he’s still pressing lazy kisses against her temple, arms still around her spent body.

After a moment, he peers down at her. 

“You okay, baby?” he whispers, like the atmosphere is something fragile.

She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

He chuckles deeply, leans down to kiss her mouth and she can’t do much more than to let herself be kissed, can’t reciprocate.

“Talk to me, love, c’mon,” he requests gently, and when she hears that little nickname, hears the care in his voice, her lip starts wobbling and her tears start running freely down her cheeks. “Oh, baby,” he soothes, lets her cry in his arms, holds her through it.

She’s heard of people crying after sex, especially after intense sex, but it has never happened to her. Laying here, though, on these ruined sheets, face and body and her fucking insides sticky with him, after having been used so mercilessly and still having him hold her like she’s something precious, talk to her like she’s something to be cherished? She can’t take it, the turmoil of the last few days, the last few weeks, paired with the experience of his mere existence sending her into overdrive. 

“Let it out, I’m here f’you,” he whispers, shushes her, kisses her head, and soon enough she runs out of tears, only sniffles where she’s hiding in his neck. 

Nicholas pulls away, props himself up on one elbow as his other hand keeps stroking her hair, her face, anything he can reach. He’s got a small smile playing on his full lips as he looks at her, and she smiles back, exhausted but satiated.

“’m sorry for this,” she croaks, voice barely there.

Before she can say anything else, he interrupts her, shushes her with his thumb on her lips. “Please don’t,” he says, eyes kind, “I’m so honored that you trust me enough to fall apart like this. Seriously, (Y/N), this is not a small deal.” 

She clicks her tongue, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I know,” she whimpers, takes his hand in hers and kisses it. “I know it isn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I- Nicholas… What the fuck?” 

He brings her to his chest, holds her close, kisses the crown of her head.

“None of that now, baby,” he whispers, “Now I gotta give you some good aftercare and then we’ll clean up, okay? We can talk later, when we’re both in our right minds. That sound good?”

She nods, says, “I don’t wanna go back to the party,” but it’s muffled against his full chest. 

He hears her anyways.

“We don’t have to; we’ll just stay here." 

Cleaning up is a quiet affair, they keep each other close at all times, standing under the shower together and just washing each other, hands trailing across the other with no intent to take it further. It’s intimate, it’s connecting, and it’s exactly what she needs to come down from the rollercoaster he’s put her through. Nicholas rummages through the closets on that floor until he finds clean sheets and changes them while she stands next to the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, watching with a small smile as he wrestles with the fitted sheet.

“Too many workouts today,” he grumbles as he pulls it over the corners of the bed, “I haven’t consumed enough calories today for this level of exercise.” 

She giggles at his silliness before she lets herself fall onto the bed, holding her arms open for him to crawl in, settling his head on her boobs.

“Naked cuddling is my favorite,” she whispers to him conspiratorially and he nods eagerly, agreeing.

“Same, don’t nearly do it often enough.”

She’s ready for a nap, she realizes as she lets her eyes fall shut, and soon enough she’s slipping away softly, clutching him tightly.  

Unsure if she's dreaming or not, she hears a soft, "I've got you, my sweet. Always got you."

[karikarasuno]

the last five weeks, shouto spent almost every working hour in your office or frantically chasing down members of his department to ensure the biggest presentation of the year goes smoothly and without any unnecessary hiccups. the two of you were tasked with securing more funding from your investors and he's silently been panicking because he's not one for public speaking-- or speaking at all really.

but you have been a godsend. an angel. a hero of sorts. you have an unique ability of calming his nerves by simply sitting in company with him. which is why the last week he's taken to working from his laptop in the armchair located in the corner of your office. you don't seem to mind. at least you don't show it at all if you do.

he does have a feeling though that you might enjoy his presence just as much as he enjoys yours. but he explains his nearly permanent residence in your office as convenient. it's easier to run ideas by you. easier to ask questions whenever he's confused. and again, you don't seem to really mind all that much.

the day of the presentation arrives and he's a ball of restless nerves. he's not speaking much in it thankfully, but the idea of standing in front of a bunch of people, one of them being his dickhead father, has his hands growing clammy and a vein in his neck pulsing.

he's waiting for you, but he knows your tendency of running a few minutes behind. you round the corner to find him standing stock still by the door to the conference room. you're slightly out of breath and you sigh in relief when your eyes fall on him.

"sorry," you blurt as you fast walk towards him, arms always full of things, but he's much too distracted to notice what you're carrying because all he can see is red. your blouse is silk and happens to be the color of wine. you never wear red. he's never even thought to imagine you in the color. and as your figure eats the distance between the two of you, he sees that you're necklace is new. or, at least, new to him.

it's a chunky red stone caged within gold wiring on a thin gold chain. he's drawn to it. and, subsequently, you.

"you ready?" his eyes rise to the sound of your voice, not without noticing that your lips are also the faintest tint of red as well, before his eyes find yours.

"i guess," he responds noncommittally after he's reminded why you're here.

"don't worry," you say, your hand finding his bicep and squeezing reassuringly, "we're gonna kill it."

and somehow you're right. it was the best presentation he's ever done. and when you're finished the grin you give him is dazzling.

and all he sees is red.

especially when he watches his father speak with you once the meeting is over. you're all smiles and witty quips, but very acutely polite. and even though he notices the change in your demeanor, that doesn't stop hot annoyance from flaring in his chest when you shake enji's hand and lean in to whisper something to him. much too close to offer shouto any real comfort.

enji looks at him after your words settle over him, but he says nothing in response other than a curt nod before thanking you and leaving.

"thank god that's over," you say. your work persona dropping as soon as everyone is out the door. he likes that you've started feeling more comfortable around him. "that literally felt like the longest presentation of my life."

your hand rises to catch the red stone you're wearing between your fingers. his eye catches the motion and he stares when he knows he should be more discreet. you're even more magnetic than he ever could have imagined you to be.

"anyway, a few of us were going to grab some drinks after work if you wanted to come?" you ask between shuffling papers into a manila folder.

"sure," he had no real intentions of saying yes when he first registered the question, but the word just seemed to stumble off his tongue. he wasn't even a big fan of red. typically impartial to it if not regularly irritated by it since the color happened to run in the family.

but you in it, the color draped along your complexion, it was nearly intoxicating.

"really?" you sound surprised, surely because this was atypical for him. he never hung out with people from work.

"yeah," he nods, shoving his hands into his pockets, "it's been a long month."

the bar is small with yellow low lights and dark wood. your coworkers seem shocked when they see him trailing behind you. but it’s covered up quickly when you gesture for him to slide into the booth beside you. he doesn’t speak much throughout the night but he finds himself entertained and engaged.

three beers in and his mind feels a little floaty and his skin is much too warm, especially with yours radiating so much heat since there’s hardly any space between the two of you.

you and ochako are rambling loudly and enthusiastically over the table you’re leaning across. he can’t really keep up since you’re both speaking so quickly, but when she mentions something about a man you were recently seeing his back straightens and a wave of sobriety washes over him.

“oh that’s not going anywhere,” you wave her off, swirling your glass of wine and swishing around the maroon liquid left at the bottom.

“aw why?” she pouts, clearly disappointed by the news. he’s selfishly elated.

“we weren’t… compatible,” you bargain, choosing your words carefully. “there was no chemistry.”

“oh, boo,” ochako replies. the conversation falling off when izuku calls for her to join him at the bar.

a familiar quiet settles over the two of you once she’s gone. you slump back against the booth where he’s already slouched and you tilt your head up to look at him through your lashes. shouto knows you don’t have a clue that you’re a special weakness of his. so when you look at him with that soft smile and those wine-warmed eyes, he knows you haven’t an idea the way his stomach twists and his heart gallops.

“you did great today, by the way,” you say proudly.

“thanks,” he says quietly, blushing but appreciative of how dim the bar is. the golden lights make your blouse reflective and cast you in a pretty rouge glow. his eyes drawn to your necklace again.

“it’s red jasper,” your voice cuts through the fuzziness in his head.

“what?” he doesn’t understand, maybe he didn’t hear something you said.

“my necklace,” you grab it again, “you’ve been staring at it all day. it’s a red jasper crystal. a gift from my best friend to give me courage and grounding today.”

“you’re pretty on it,” he pauses, the alcohol or maybe it’s just you, causing him to fumble his words. “I meant it’s pretty on you.”

your laugh is bright and bursts from your chest with delight.

“thanks, shouto,” you giggle, shaking your head and finishing the rest of your wine. “before she gave it to me, she said it’s enchanted.”

he’s mesmerized by the way the wine has stained your tongue as you lick your bottom lip. you make it hard for him to concentrate.

“do you believe in magic, sho?” you’ve never called him that before. it’s endearing. and winsome. and sends a thrill of goosebumps down his body.

no, he’s never believed in magic. until now. because surely you have him bewitched.

shouto has your schedule memorized. accidentally of course, but it's ingrained in his head. for example, you’re always three minutes late. and you’re always carrying an obscene amount of things in your arms. today you’re holding a plastic tote that seems to have cupcakes inside– or maybe they’re muffins– along with a water bottle, a coffee mug, two bags, and your lunch box. he wants to offer to help, but instead he watches you. 

your first stop is always the break room. his eyes follow you until you disappear behind a corner. you’re wearing a dress today that hits right above your knees and boots that stop just below them. he rather enjoys when you wear dresses, only ever wearing them on fridays, when the dress code is more lax and you can incorporate more of your personal style. you wear colors. it is the only source of anything bright or cheerful in the office. 

aside from your office itself. it’s stationed right beside his. music is always trickling out beneath the cracks of the door and the soft smell of chamomile wafts around its four walls. he only recognizes the smell because he had a meeting with you in there to discuss some reports your department was in charge of and he noticed a small diffuser on your bookshelf with a chamomile essential oil beside it.

it’s rare that you’re ever alone together. even rarer that it’s somewhere as intimate as your office. it’s littered with things that are so innately you. that’s how he learned your favorite color is green. and that you have a vast assortment of teas organized in a wooden box on your desk. 

you always offer to make him a cup. he always declines, but the offer alone warms him from the inside. 

“morning , shouto,” you say, popping your head through his open door and smiling. his cheeks warm at the expression. he really never tires of looking at you.

“good morning,” his voice cracks, so he clears it as he sits up in his chair. when you step inside his office, the smell of your perfume hits him. it’s sweet like vanilla, but paired with something deeper, almost earthy. he tries not to close his eyes and relish in it. 

“so i made these vanilla chai muffins last night and cooked about a dozen too many,” you say, hand holding out a muffin on a napkin towards him. “would you like one?” 

he’s not even sure if he likes chai but he takes it anyway. because he likes you. your fingers are warm when they brush his. he wonders what it would be like to hold them. since his have a tendency to run cold –his right side more so than his left. but he imagines how comforting it would be. and then he remembers you’re still standing in front of his desk. expectantly. 

“thank you,” he says, assuming that’s what you’re waiting for.

“You’re welcome,” you respond sweetly, still standing patiently on the other side of his desk. there’s a moment of exchanging stares. heat rises and settles beneath his collar. your eye contact always unsettled him. but because it always felt like you were staring deeper into his soul than anyone he’s ever met. he never knows how to respond to it, other than glancing away.

you laugh, breathless and amused. “i want you to try it.”

“right now?”

“mhm,” you hum with a nod to emphasize your answer. 

“why?” he asks before thinking, but not in offense, purely because he's curious as to why you would want to watch him try something.

“because i want to know if you like it, and it's easier to tell if you’re lying if i see you take your first bite,” you joke, hands adjusting the bags that are still on your shoulder since you’ve yet to stop by your office. 

“oh ok,” he says, the heat below his collar beginning to escape up his neck. he pauses before he takes a bite, the muffin just an inch away from his lips. he feels your eyes on him intently. eager. And his nerves are starting to fester beneath his skin. 

his bite is bigger than he intends to be. nearly eating half of the muffin in one go. he hears you suppress a giggle, your eyes alight with amusement when he glances up at you with a mouth full of the pastry you made. he’s taken aback by how pretty you look at that moment. the sun peeking through his slanted blinds, not fully open, but wide enough to cast you in light that makes you appear quite heavenly. he never knows what to do with his feelings. an infatuation or maybe a crush or maybe something deeper. he didn’t know. not when you looked at him. not when you smiled at him. not when you touched him. 

all he knows is that he wants to keep your eyes on him, your smile directed towards him, and your hands always on him. 

“so?” you prompt, taking an anticipatory step closer to him. that’s when he remembers to chew. the flavor surprises him, sweet but spicy. light and not too sugary. it’s good, delicious even. he wonders how you can be so good at everything. or maybe he simply just likes everything that you do.  

“it’s really good,” he says, once he finally swallows his overindulgent bite. Your smile widens, probably deciding that he’s not lying, before tilting your head in that pretty way you always do and saying “glad you like it.”

he doesn’t get a chance to respond before you're exiting his office, somehow taking the life right out of it and back with you. the sun even dims in your absence. 

10:45 am on the dot and you’re walking past his office. it’s your scheduled tea time. he’s sure he’s the only one in the office that has noticed it. but every day at the same time you walk by with a mug and head for the break room. it’s where you keep your electric kettle. also in the color green.

today, again, you pause by his open door. he drops his pen in surprise. “i’m gonna make some tea.”

he simply stares. you smile again. and his heart stutters. “do you want some?”

“what kind do you have?” the question surprises even him.

“all kinds,” you respond cheekily.

“what’s your favorite?” 

“caffeinated or non-caffeinated?”

“non-caffeinated.”

“i’ll surprise you,” you wink, head tilting again in that way he really appreciates and this time his breathing gets stuck somewhere in his chest. 

When you return this time it’s with two mugs, both with heavy plumes of steam whirling above them. 

“careful,” you say as you set it down before him, “it’s really hot.”

“what is it?” he asks, smelling over the lip instinctively. 

“peppermint,” you answer.

[strawberryhotlips]

༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader

SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.

Word Count: 5.3k

Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader

Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, Possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later

Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good. Everyone is of legal age!! Heeseung is 26, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon are 25, Sunoo is 23, Jungwon is 22 and Ni-ki is 21.

Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 - )

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.

Hi beautiful people!! I'm back with the third chap of this story. It took me almost five days to write it, but here it is finally!! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!! Xoxo, aby..

CHAPTER I: "Disaster"

CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"

CHAPTER III: "Trust Issues"

more under the cut ☟︎︎︎

"I will kill you..."

Fuck, you couldn't have been any clearer with your words. If they made you the slightest bit suspicious, you would blow their heads off. And as much as you had said before that you didn't want to kill them, if they gave you reason even after your warning, you would have no choice.

After that, you had simply thrown some clothes at them, muttering a "take a bath and clean up this mess," pointing to the wet and muddy floor, and then disappeared upstairs.

You had locked yourself in your room (literally) because you had locked the lock with a homemade key that you had made at the beginning of all this when you didn't feel safe even in your room and felt the need to lock it. You had no energy for anything else, and that night you just lay in your bed, hoping to be alive the next day, while you heard little murmurs on the first floor, and also heard the boys walking around, probably cleaning up.

After a few minutes, surprisingly, you managed to fall asleep. ....

----------

The seven men in your house had barely gotten a wink of sleep the night before, they had been able to bathe properly and clean up as you had asked, but the fact of their new reality, living with you, the last remaining woman, had not let them rest properly.

And now it was a whole new reality that they had to adjust to, but damn it, it was so hard knowing that you were sleeping one floor away. They had you so close but so far away at the same time that it was almost impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep because there was something going on in their heads that would not leave them alone....

you

your existence, your presence, even the ghost of your perfume that had lingered in the living room and how you had confronted them so powerfully the night before. It was just you.

The next morning, the smell of cooking woke you from your sleep. Hell, you knew how to cook, but you hadn't smelled anything that tasty in years. That meant only one thing, one of the boys was using your kitchen, and whatever was cooking smelled delicious.

You replaced your pajamas with a pair of jogging pants and a tight, slightly short, long-sleeved t-shirt that revealed the delicate little metal that adorned your belly button. You combed your hair a little, and in the bathroom of your room you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Little things in your daily routine that you were still allowed to do.

You put your gun in your makeshift gun belt and unlocked the door to your room. What you didn't expect when you walked out was to see two of the boys sitting against the wall on either side of your door, asleep. Their expressions were unreadable as you looked at them doubtfully, now that you could see them better in the morning sunlight. Their features were relaxed, a stark contrast to how tense they had been the night before, they were wearing the clothes you had thrown at them, and they really were attractive men, but then again, you couldn't stop and thinking about that now.

With a sigh, you looked at them for a few more seconds before shaking your head and walking down the hall to the stairs. You didn't bother to wake them, figuring that if they slept so much, it was because their bodies needed it. Besides, the tension of the night before and the discovery that there was still a woman alive must have exhausted them.

When you reached the first floor after descending the stairs, you could visualize four more guys, scattered randomly on the couch in your living room, also completely asleep. You remembered two of them, one of them you had pointed the gun at and the other was the arrogant shameless jackass, yes, you remembered him very well and now his cute sleeping face had not a hint of arrogance, being able to fool anyone with that appearance of fake innocence.

Well, maybe you were being a bit dramatic but in your defense he had been a jerk to you.

Rolling your eyes at the memory, the delicious smell of food grew stronger as you walked through the living room. You could hear the small clink of the frying pan and the snap of something frying as you approached the kitchen.

When you finally got there, you could see the missing boy, obviously cooking, he hadn't noticed your presence yet, so you decided to lean against the door frame with your arms crossed and a serious expression on your face.

"Morning..." you finally spoke, your voice devoid of emotion as you watched him jump in surprise, "Shit...you scared me..." he turned to you with his eyes a little wide and a hand on his chest in shock as he tried to calm his slightly accelerated breathing.

You almost laughed at the scene but decided to keep your expression serious as you watched him intently. He looked at you for a second and then quickly looked back to the frying pan where he was cooking scrambled eggs while he cleared his throat, "So you're up already?" you could swear he was pretty nervous from the way his body was tense and the silly question he had asked since you were literally standing in front of him.

This was going to be fun.

"Jay, right?..." you clearly remembered his name because that cheeky idiot had called him that the night before as you shushed him, "yeaah, I'm starting to think you're paid to ask stupid questions..." there was a lot of seriousness in your voice as you deliberately gave him a glare, raising both your eyebrows as you watched him open his mouth to try and answer, but he just couldn't.

You remembered his name

and it sounded so beautiful coming out of your lips and it made Jay's head spin a little. Because he didn't want to look like an idiot in front of you, but your presence only, made it difficult.

You spoke again, meeting his gaze, "May I ask what you are doing in my kitchen?" your eyes had a little gleam of amusement in them now, but your voice was still deadly serious.

Jay looked at you and then at the ladle in his hand that he was using to cook, "w-well...i was making the...breakfast..." he cleared his throat again as you heard him stutter. You nodded as a sound of mock approval passed through your throat, "with my food..." you replied as you shook your head in acknowledgement, pointing to the eggs in the pan.

Your eyes never left his fake calm expression, his body language and voice clearly betraying the nervousness he was trying to hide in your presence.

"Uhu..it's just that I thought you'd all be hungry when you woke up, s-so i thought it would be a good idea to have breakfast ready..." he cursed himself for stuttering so much, damn, instead of a man he looked like a teenager dealing with puberty.

"Ahem..." you let the silence fill the kitchen air with anticipation, you kept looking at him wordlessly and Jay could swear he felt smaller and smaller under your gaze.

And fuck, he literally hadn't done anything wrong, yet your eyes seemed to judge the depths of his soul as the tension was suffocating in the deafening silence, and he hadn't missed the gun you seemed to always carry with you.

You didn't trust them

That was Jay's conclusion and it was obvious, who would in a situation like yours? he couldn't, nor did he have the right to blame you for judging his every move, after all it was basically you against the world.

You, on the other hand, were having quite a bit of fun deliberately making him nervous, curious to see how he would react and how the mere fact of talking to him or making him so nervous would make you wonder if you would have the same effect on the other guys as well.

"You know...I divided the food into portions..." you commented after a few seconds of silence that seemed like an eternity to Jay. At your words, his eyes immediately met yours and he blinked several times, thinking about what to say.

Fuck, he hadn't thought of that, of course, a day ago it was just you, you only had to worry about what you were going to eat, but now with the arrival of the seven of them, the picture as to how long the meal would last was completely different and Jay had overlooked that.

"Next time, ask me before you take my food, even if you have to break down my bedroom door and wake me up, ask me first, is that clear?" your voice was a little more relaxed now, but with the same seriousness as you pulled yourself away from the door frame to move a little closer to the oven where Jay was cooking.

He nodded immediately at your clear command, because yeah, it was a command, no room for argument in your words, "Sure, of course, it won't happen again..." he turned his head to look at you again and was surprised to see you closer than before, swallowing hard as he tried to hold your piercing gaze as he watched you nod at his statement.

"Speaking of my room, who are the two clowns sleeping on my doorstep like they were camping?" your question caught Jay off guard as he stopped cooking for a few seconds and stared at the frying pan, then closed his eyes, frowning and denying in frustration.

Those idiots!

He let out a sigh and then opened his eyes, finally turning off the oven. He slowly turned to you with a flushed face as he seemed to be searching for words to say, "Sorry, I didn't think they mean it when they said they would sleep outside your room..." he licked his lips as he served the scrambled eggs on different plates, "The black haired one is Ni-ki and the gray haired one is Jake..." you finally knew who was who and you laughed inwardly as you saw Jay fighting with himself not to go and wake them both.

"Oh...they thought it would be a good idea to stand guard outside my room..." you said, pressing the buttons even harder as Jay got redder by the second. He ran his hand over his face in frustration, "I'm really sorry...Ni-ki is the youngest of the group and Jake always goes along with his nonsense..." he let out another sigh as he finished his words, apologizing on behalf of his friends.

So Ni-ki and Jake were the reason why everyone was here now. You wondered what had gone through their heads to dare to escape in the middle of the night, not only breaking the curfew and putting themselves in danger, but also being chased by the police.

A few more minutes and they could have caught them, they could have caught you.

The smell of bacon brought you out of your thoughts as for the first time you showed an expression as you watched Jay place it on the plates, next to the scrambled eggs. "You used the bacon Jay, it was saved for special occasions, there were only three packages left and you used them..." your tone was accusatory as your eyes, a little wider than usual, shifted from Jay to the bacon on the plates, repeatedly.

Jay immediately widened his eyes when he heard you and seemed to panic as he realized the implication of your words and began to ramble, "I-I'm so sorry...I had no idea, fuck...I didn't mean it. We can still buy more, I swear I'll replace them and leave everything as it was-..." you cut him off as a few specific words caught your attention.

Uh, buy more? What the fuck did he mean?

"What do you mean, buy more?" your question came out with a mixed tone of annoyance and disbelief "Do you have a job? or money?" your lack of understanding was reflected in every word you said as you looked at Jay for answers.

how could he possibly have a job if only essential services were still running? was he part of any essential services? because if he was, you were screwed. The Essential Services worked with the government, who had offered a billion dollar reward if one of their workers found a woman and gave her to them so they could experience the repopulation of the world with her.

"N-no, I don't have a job…" Jay hurried to speak when he saw your panicked face and how your hand had unconsciously gone to your gun, your expression hardened at his words, you wanted answers and you wanted them now "My father, he was doing very well in business and he left the inheritance to me since i'm an only child..." he clarified the situation quickly but you continued to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"What happened to him, he didn't want to be a millionaire overnight by giving everything to his beloved son?" the sarcasm and annoyance was clear in your voice full of suspicion as you questioned him without measuring your words and that's when Jay's expression changed.

He swallowed as his eyes, now filled with what seemed to be sadness, longing, and frustration, looked at you for a few seconds, only for you to notice that they were filled with...tears...

Oh..

He was going to cry?

"When my mother died from the virus, at the beginning of it all...my father could only hold on to life for a few more months before he decided to give up and go with her...a-and...and...i saw it all..." shit, why did you have to be so loose with your tongue? Jay had lost his parents, who were the only family he had, and not only that, he had to witness his father's suicide, fuck, that must have been really traumatic and fucking painful.

You immediately took your hand away from your gun and looked at him with empathy, you too had lost your whole family, the pain was unbearable and you couldn't imagine his, but, in a way, you shared the same pain, having lost your families...

The boys were all the family he had left

And not just Jay, all seven of them must feel the same way, they had all lost a lot and they recognized each other as the only family they had left. Then in that moment you understood, no matter what big trust issues you had towards them, they were human beings, just like you, they were fragile, just like you, they had lost everything, just like you, and the only thing they were clinging to was the hope that somehow it would get better, they didn't even know where it came from, but they were hoping that all their suffering had not been in vain

just like you

And then, without knowing what to say, you raised one of your hands and placed it gently on one of Jay's shoulders. He took a deep breath as he felt your touch, something that had become immeasurably distant, but that he hadn't realized he was missing until now, the comfort. His eyes, crystallized with unshed tears, looked sideways at your hand on his shoulder before they slid down his cheeks of their own accord, unbidden and silent.

Your heart squeezed at the sight of his crying, at the realization that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in a world where vulnerability killed you "Jay...I...I'm so sorry..." those were the only words your head allowed to leave your lips, but it was enough to express in your now soft and delicate voice that you both shared the same fucking pain.

Jay was overwhelmed for a moment, your words, as simple as they were, brought him a comfort he needed long ago, and that was enough for him to have his arms wrapped around your waist from one moment to the next, pulling your body into an almost trembling embrace that he seemed to need so desperately, an embrace that screamed how much he needed the contact, the affection, the containment and the relief.

For a few seconds your body couldn't react and you were paralyzed. You hadn't had this kind of direct contact in years and it was something that took you and your head by surprise. You felt Jay hide his face in your neck almost instinctively and his tears began to flow more abundantly as he clung to you as if his life depended on it.

It struck you as odd, like, yeah, you understood that the memory of the loss of his family would cause him so much pain, but you had become so used to suppressing your emotions that it was unusual for you to see such a vulnerable and fragile man clinging to you. But after a few seconds of processing the situation, you realized that his crying was not only because he had lost his family, it was also because of the weight that had been on his back all these years, you realized that surely he had also had to suppress what he was feeling, and finding you and being in your arms now was an instant relief and a great weight that he no longer had on his back.

His cry was a liberating one

One that spoke of how much he had endured over time and that he had finally found the relief he had been so desperately waiting for. Then, understanding this, you slowly let your arms wrap around his shoulders, finally returning his embrace as his body visibly relaxed under your gentle touch. Leaving your suspicion behind, you decided to give him a moment of comfort, and decided to listen to the human part of you instead of the rational part.

Heart over brain

Jay couldn't quite process what was going on, he only understood that you had welcomed his distress, that you hadn't taken him away from you, and that he inevitably found overwhelming comfort in your arms. Your scent soothed him, causing him to breathe shakily into the crook of your neck as his cry was silenced. Clinging to you, to your small waist and feeling the warmth of your body against his, helped him to calm down and understand that he was no longer alone, that he could express himself and act like a human being, at least with you.

Your chest felt tight, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt the slight trembling in Jay's body, but it diminished as the minutes passed, until finally you could no longer feel his tears soaking your shirt, and his once shaky breathing had been replaced by a soft and slower one. His crying had stopped, but he wasn't letting go and didn't seem to want to for the foreseeable future.

That is, until a clearing of the throat caused the two of you to abruptly separate for some reason. You turned to where the voice was coming from and your brow furrowed in annoyance as you saw the idiot in the kitchen door frame.

Right, 'the idiot' was your name for him.

He looked at you and then at Jay with an expression you couldn't quite understand, his eyes narrowed and his jaw visibly clenched "bravo.... you were really fast Jay...you got to her before any of us..." his tone was contemptuous, bordering on desperate as he made that ridiculous claim.

Jay on the other hand was sniffling and still looking at him with red eyes with obvious annoyance, "What the fuck, Heeseung Hyung, what kind of bullshit approach is that?..." the anger was clear in his voice as he snapped at him.

So 'the idiot' called himself Heeseung.

You raised an eyebrow at the situation and then sighed, really, what the hell was he trying to imply?

Heeseung had been awakened by the distant smell of scrambled eggs and bacon, his stomach growling with hunger and he just got up from the couch and followed the smell to the kitchen, but he didn't expect what he would find: You and Jay, hugging, obviously very close to each other.

His blood immediately and almost inevitably boiled with envy and jealousy, he knew you weren't an object, but he didn't like the idea of seeing his friends touching you in the slightest, and that was very clear to him:

Heeseung wanted you for himself

and the thought of having to share you with his other six friends was really hard for him to accept. Well, not only for him, the seven of them were extremely territorial and the situation could only get worse 'cause you were the only woman left, but hell, how could he even pretend to get to you when he was acting like a complete idiot?

Heeseung let out an unfunny laugh as he looked at Jay, the tension in the kitchen air was intense "Who do you think you are Jay, you think you have the right to touch her?" Jay frowned in annoyance at Heeseung's accusatory tone "Give it up dude...she's not a fucking object and she doesn't belong to you..." the complaint in Jay's voice was clear as your eyes shifted from him to Heeseung in disbelief.

Is this for real? they were making a jealous scene right in front of you.

"Hey stop talking shit, both of you..." the soft voice you had used with Jay before had been replaced by a cold and cutting tone "I don't belong to anyone and in case you haven't noticed..I'm right here, damn it..." now you were annoyed, really. The moment of consolation with Jay had been nice, but the fact that they were now acting like dogs fighting over meat didn't fucking amuse you at all and seemed hypocritical.

Heeseung and Jay seemed to be in a heated duel of glances, and fuck, if looks could kill, you thought they'd both be ten meters underground long ago, they both seemed to be about to say something, but your angry footsteps coming out of the kitchen made them both shut up.

Your angry footsteps echoed through the living room and down the stairs, and then there was a loud slamming of the door. You had locked yourself in your room. Heeseung and Jay could clearly feel your anger, so they were about to start fighting again, because the rivalry for your attention had already begun.

"Enough..." Jungwon's cold and cutting voice echoed in the kitchen, cutting off every word that came out of his elders' mouths. He walked into the kitchen, sipping a glass of water as if it was his home, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, finally turning his gaze to Heeseung and Jay.

"Shame on you, you're the most grown up of the group..." his voice was cold as he clenched his jaw in clear annoyance "What do you want to achieve by behaving like this?...you're going to scare her away and get her to throw us all out on the street.... " He sighed as he shook his head disapprovingly, "We've only been here one night, not even a full day, and you're already fighting to see which one of you gets her attention first? very mature of you, really..." the sarcasm and annoyance were very clear in his firm and cutting voice.

The air was suffocating for both Heeseung and Jay, because when Jungwon was serious and even more so when he was angry, it was scary, so much so that neither of them could look him in the eyes, even if their expressions were hard, even if they were annoyed and even if they had the urge to answer him, neither of them did it "Let this shit not happen again, we don't want to scare her, we want to make her feel comfortable and gain her trust..." his statement was firm, leaving no room for retorts "You two brag about how much sex you had but you have no fucking idea how to treat a woman...", A dry laugh without a hint of grace left his lips, to which Heeseung and Jay only sigh and nod slightly at Jungwon's cutting words, and that was enough for him to drop the subject and leave the kitchen, but not before giving them both a warning look and taking one of the plates of egg and bacon.

---------

It was something that really made you angry. Because you hadn't allowed them to stay to be treated like a damned object, but on the other hand, you felt desired. Even though you knew that it was something inevitable because there were no more women to desire, something inside you felt good about it, something about possessiveness and jealousy made you sigh, not in anger but in satisfaction. You didn't think you were a person with a twisted mind, or at least you didn't give that image. But you were frustrated and pleased at the same time that they couldn't take more than a whole day to start fighting over you.

You knew it was going to happen eventually, they were men around your age, all damn attractive, so you suspected they'd never been rejected by women before, and you were also very attractive as far as you were concerned. So it wasn't surprising that they were jealous or fought over you, but you didn't expect them to let it show so quickly. Even though you didn't want to let them off so easily, it was clear that you didn't trust them yet and that you needed to get to know them better before you could allow yourself to feel completely at ease.

Now, locked in your room, you thought about the moment you had spent with Jay: it was beautiful, sad and nostalgic, but beautiful at the same time. Feeling his strong arms around you affected you more than you wanted, but you couldn't blame yourself, you hadn't had human contact for years and this embrace was something that surprised you, your conscience was clear, you were a human too and humans were social beings, made to be accompanied, not alone.

They had been together all these years, but you had faced a loneliness that ate you up more and more every day, then you told yourself that enjoying a hug was not a bad thing. The slam of the door you had slammed was enough for the aforementioned Jake and Ni-ki to stop camping outside your room and join the other boys downstairs, wondering what had happened.

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts and made you jump slightly in your bed, "Miss, it's me...the red haired boy, my name is Jungwon..." you heard a voice that was already familiar. Of course, the red haired boy, the one who had tried to calm the whole atmosphere between you and the idiot when you had pointed your gun at him.

With some confusion, you got off your bed and unlocked the door, only to see Jungwon standing on the other side with a plate of egg and bacon that smelled damn good. He held the plate out to you with a slight grimace, "You should have breakfast, miss..." he suggested and you stepped aside and let him into your room, sitting on the edge of your bed without thinking much about it.

Jungwon followed you with a careful step, not wanting to intrude into your space, your room.

Fuck, YOUR room.

He swallowed hard when he realized that he was in a woman's room, a very attractive woman, something that had never happened to him because before all this he had never dated, calling them a waste of time and preferring to study and do well academically. The only room he had ever been in was his sister's room or his mother's room, so this was new to him and he couldn't help but take a quick look around, scanning your space with curious and longing eyes.

"Thank you, Jungwon..." your voice snapped him out of his trance and he quickly nodded to your words, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach when he heard you call his name, "Yeah, it's nothing...it's the least I could do after those idiots made that scene in front of you..." he said regretfully as he placed the plate on some of your furniture to then put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

You looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding, but something distracted you.

He really was, just so cute.

Seeing your silence, he took the liberty of continuing, "I apologize in their stead, Miss..." He spoke with firmness and determination as he looked at you intently, "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again..." his voice was commanding, practically with born leadership, you frowned with a mixture of confusion and surprise, but didn't reply. He seemed to have this under control so easily, so you just gave him a nod.

You couldn't deny that you were fascinated by Jungwon, you wanted to know him better. He seemed to be someone very intelligent, who simply radiated confidence, but not the kind of confidence that scares you, but the kind that makes you feel a certain respect for him.

What you didn't know was that inside he was trying to ignore your precious presence, as well as the overwhelming smell of you that surrounded every corner of your room. He held himself back, he wanted to keep himself sane.

or at least appear to be.

But his legs were almost shaking and his composure was about to explode at the thought of being alone with you for the first time, alone with a woman who was not a member of his family for the first time in his life. He didn't want you to see the strong effect you had on him, not yet, so he simply nodded at your silence and turned with the intention of leaving your room, not only to give you your space, but also not to lose control of himself. But one thing he was sure of: if he had to fight with his friends for you, he would do it without any doubt, he just didn't want to show himself as immature as Heeseung and Jay had done.

"____...." your voice stopped his footsteps before he could leave your room, he instead turned around and looked at you curiously, giving you room to continue talking "That's my name...don't call me Miss anymore, okay?" Your words took him by surprise but he nodded without hesitation, all his tough exterior melted away as the blush came to his face at a ridiculous speed "Okay ___ Noona..." now it was your turn to blush.

Fuck, you couldn't deny that you loved being called that name, it was one of your weaknesses and Jungwon had found it out without any trouble.

He gave you a shy little smile, letting you see his adorable dimples that you hadn't been able to see before.

Shit, he was really cute.

He walked out of your room with his heart beating fast and you allowed yourself to smile for a few seconds. They all had different personalities and you would have to learn to deal with each of them, but from your point of view, it wouldn't be that hard if they started acting like Jungwon.

It would be a long and hard process, but one that you were sure would be worth it...

Taglist 🫶🏻: @strxwbloody @ch4c0nnenh4 @aussie-boys-wife @deobitifull @engeneheree @merwdusa @elairah @suhwife @d-dilemma @liafterhours @btxtenha @wonenonline-blog @cara9065 @otterluver05 @imnotsadtoday @immelissaaa

not the reader losing it for Jungwon lmao

[slavicdolls4mangione]

Luigi’s wife!reader who has been constantly looking for him after he suddenly left. The media digging into her past, while she’s literally on the verge of a mental breakdown after finding out that her missing husband allegedly assassinated a ceo and is now in custody :(

this just made my heart squeeze omg :( before i get into wife!reader i can’t help but think of his parents, sisters but also best friends and how devastated and scared they must’ve felt when lu went missing. he obviously had his reasons and whatever they were they’re valid imo, i wish i didn’t relate to his actions but i do… anyways. i hope seeing lu again lifted some of their fears and worry even if the circumstances are horrible and hard to handle.

now as for wife reader, you’d obviously feel beyond devastated waking up one day to his side of the bed empty, some of his belongings gone, no trace left behind that could give you an idea of where he went; only thing he left you was a note saying he loved you more than anything and that he needed time away by himself and that you shouldn’t worry.

everytime you’d try to call him it would go directly to voicemail or even worse, you’d hear that robotic voice telling you the phone number you’re trying to contact doesn’t exist. his family, yours, your friends would try to comfort you but nothing they were saying would make you feel any better. you’d drive yourself crazy looking everywhere for him for months, it was draining the life out of you and your loved ones were beyond worried for your mental and physical state.

the day lu got arrested, you thought you were going to die. seeing his face plastered all over the news, social media, headlines calling him the shooter, claiming he unalived the ceo of uhc had you feeling like your entire world came crashing down in the snap of a finger. you were urged to make all your social media accounts private but it was too late, people had found your instagram and facebook through lu’s accounts before they got deleted and your mentions were blowing up like crazy. suddenly your photos were all over the internet, people were analyzing your relationship etc. you felt like you were living a nightmare but in that moment your sole wish was to see your husband as soon as possible and you made it your life’s mission to be by his side and fight for his freedom no matter what. lu would be a mess upon seeing you again after months of being separated, he’d hate himself for making you go through so much pain but he would vow to making it up to you for the rest of his life

[luvingspence]

headcanons | ryohei arisu

author’s note: i started aib and ohmygod this man, smut hc’s are definitely ooc but i just need him so bad so i’m feeding my own delusional.

warnings: nothing much, just my first time writing smut hc’s😭

synopsis: pre-borderlands hc’s! also this is LONGGG, i have too many thoughts.

not proof read

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ pre-borderlands

♡ he’s a loser, you know it, he knows it, his friends know it, and his father definitely does. but it makes him all the more endearing.

♡ he’s so, so nervous at first, but once you both grow more comfortable in your relationship he’s giving into your every wish, genuinely at your beck and call. you’re his whole world and he just wants to make you happy <3

♡ he’s a little gamer! mainly pc (unfortunately, i’m a ps5 girly) but he knows his stuff. definitely uses emulators to play games like resident evil and the last of us.

♡ he prefers online shooters and stuff, but he doesn’t mind story based games if they’re more action based, like re4.

♡ i think he’d prefer a girlfriend who doesn’t mind video games (or loves them like him) so you can play together and talk about games :(

♡ would definitely emulate it takes two on both his pc and yours so you could play together, it’s such a cutesy little couple game! you guys would have a blast playing together! :(

♡ if you had a console best believe he’s using it for at least an hour every time he’s over, won’t admit it’s better than his PC but you both know it’s what he’s thinking.

♡ loves it when you sit in his lap while he plays :( and you love it too.

♡ arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his controller on your thighs, chin on your shoulder as he plays, but he always gets distracted, giving you the attention you want so easily, kissing your neck gently, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips as he whispers in your ear.

♡ i can’t imagine he uses pet names often, if he does they’re classics like ‘baby’ and ‘babe’.

♡ “Baby, you wanna hop on call for a bit?” he texts you at least once a day every night you aren’t together, he ends up screen sharing a movie or show you can watch together.

♡ is also a boyfriend that makes you watch him play i’m so sorry but he just is. you see him rage far too often over COD.

♡ loves it when you call him ‘honey’, just does it for him.

♡ he’s a nerd so that definitely extends to different parts of his life other than video games, when you go shopping you always end up browsing new posters, figurines, and mangas.

♡ AOT is my favourite anime/manga so i’m gonna hc that it’s his too! ;)

♡ his favourite character is eren. without a doubt, just thinks he’s so cool, and absolutely loses his mind when he sees him turn into the attack titan for the first time, “Babe! Fucking look, that’s so cool!-“

♡ thinks you’re so pretty. while girls loved karube, the same couldn’t be said for him. in the show he’s in his 20s so i won’t say he’s a virgin, but definitely not super experienced.

♡ just can’t believe he has a girlfriend as pretty as you, no matter what you look like, goth, emo, a girl who loves to dress up and wear makeup, or if you prefer dressing down he thinks you’re so stunning.

♡ “you’re the prettiest girl ever.” (literal heart eyes)

♡ “your makeup looks really nice, baby :)”

♡ *stares at you in the mirror while you brush your hair.*

♡ “baby can you play a game with me, i’m bored :(.”

♡ dates are super lowkey! but you both love it that way.

♡ walks in parks, cinema dates, shopping dates, lazy days on the couch or in his bed watching movies are the most common ones.

♡ he does splurge on an actual restaurant for anniversary’s and valentines and your birthday with whatever little money he has.

♡ dresses up on those days too! He’ll wear a plain black shirt or white button up (whatever is more appropriate) instead of a graphic tee and some nice jeans or black slacks (he steals them from his brother.)

♡ for gifts he also keeps in lowkey, and so do you! you both can’t afford much so you just appreciate what the other gets you.

♡ he gets you little figures and posters he thinks you’ll like, or plushies! if you like makeup he’ll splurge a tad and get you a nice lipgloss you said you’ve been wanting.

♡ is definitely a boyfriend who gets gifts catered to your interests and things you like rather than buying you stuff he thinks all girls like.

♡ just over all very thoughtful, sweet, and very very handsome even though he refuses to believe it.

♡ pre-borderlands smut hc’s

♡ isn’t a virgin, but not experienced. one or two bodies before you i’d guess.

♡ let’s talk abt his dick 🤭

♡ he’s above average, but not insanely big. 6 inches, decently girthy but not so much so that it would hurt. it’s so pretty. a perfect size, two toned, a few veins and perfectly straight.

♡ i see far too many people hc him as a sub, but i honestly don’t see that, he’s neither and doesn’t have much of an interest in power dynamics

♡ you’re his equal, his baby, why would he wanna control you in anyway? :(

♡ such a titty guy. he is’t picky about size, but loves the way yours sit so pretty.

♡ soft pecks slowly grow into heated and lustfully heavy touching above your clothes, his big hands and lithe fingers shyly manoeuvring under your top. Inching their way up your soft flesh, they always find your breasts, caressing them gingerly as he softly loves on you.

♡ positions are nothing crazy, he loves classic missionary sometimes, just staring into your eyes, watching your face contort as you whine and moan. god you just look so good.

♡ but he also loves prone bone, getting you on your stomach, sliding himself in, slowly, almost torturously so. he fills you to the hilt, groaning into your ear softly as your bodies press together, sharing their warmth. he props himself up on his elbows, thrusting into you gently and slowly. he wants to savour every moment. without a doubt, he always brushes your hair away from your face, putting a large hand under you chin to crane your neck around to him, kissing you slowly as he fucks you into the mattress.

♡ bro LOVESSS head. like so bad. he loves giving, of course, he’s never been much of a ladykiller, so knowing he’s able to please you drives him mad.

♡ but he’s always down for you to suck his dick. he prefers laying with his back propped against the headboard, letting you work away. with a hand gripping your hair, or caressing the back of your head, and his other hand behind his own head, his mouth agape and eyes fluttering closed.

♡ on certain days, he thrusts up into your mouth, but poor boy always ends up feeling a bit bad :(

♡ ohgod and his fingers.

♡ long, lithe, slender. his hands are dexterous, soft and not overly calloused. anytime he uses them on you, he has you laying beside him whilst he leans over you, pumping them in and out, his thumb giving all it’s attention to your clit.

♡ the dirty talk is light, just filled with praise and light teasing

♡ he’s just too soft with you, he could never degrade you in the slightest.

♡ “attagirl, baby.”

♡”doing so good f’me.”

♡”you look so pretty, baby, my pretty girl.”

♡”makin’ me feel so good.”

♡ and just strings of curses as he praises and loves on you

♡ he’s just too good to you :(

[genderqueerdykes]

im feeling so stressed about transitioning under the new regime. i need to get my gender markers/passport/name changed legally but i am not on hrt and do NOT pass at all, so i feel unsafe with the correct docs. i have an appointment for hrt, but thats not for another month. by that time it will be too late to update my docs. ill be visibly trans with my birth gender/name which also makes me feel unsafe. i feel like im being forced to rush my transition or stay in the closet for the rest of my life. i do not have the confidence to be visibly trans as i live in an extremely red part of an extremely red state. i feel miserable and dont know what to do

remind urself its ok to be scared rn. it's very frightening. it's okay to feel unsafe rn. hopefully things don't pan out like that and you have to stay in the closet

we don't know what will happen for sure, n that's the scary part. we don't have control over the future, but we got control of the present and we can do what we can to influence the immediate future.

those laws n bills are still subject to the judicial processes of the house and senate and they can get strangled or killed there. trump isn't special, he thinks he is, but realistically, he still has to contend with them whether or not he wants to . he had to last time, this time will be no different. n u know what? if it is different? n he does put that shit into place asap? well guess what? everyone's calling for "revolution": nows ur chance babes, get started! gather! organize! resist! revolt!

for now what you gotta do is remind urself that it will never be illegal 2 be a trans person on the inside. u being trans, referring to urself as trans, acknowledging that ur trans will never be illegal and yes that IS something you can hold on to for dear life. it's a place to start. they can't take away who you are on the inside. start talking to other trans people and start building plans. look into queer resource centers in your area. look at colleges for these, though you may have some elsewhere. ask ur trans friends where they get their hrt.

going stealth or trying to pass for a cis man and/or woman doesn't mean u are not trans. a lot of trans people have to do this, and if u have to do it for safety, that is completely fine. that says nothing about ur actual gender. it sucks to do, but it doesn't change who u are on the inside, a lot of trans people have 2 do this

i hope things improve for u. i hope you're able to connect with some other queers in ur area and come up with some plans. do whatever u can to make sure that u can get hormones started if that's what u want. like chase it n don't let go. just do it. they can't take the hormone out of ur body. but they also can't magically know ur on hrt. this is just my stance. u can decide not to. but i say NOW is the time to pull the trigger.

get on hrt. do it. now before u literally fuckin can't.

hopefully not much changes if anything at all. i'm not impressed with Dumbass' speeches. he's a lot of hot air. he's about making an impression. but i'm not impressed by the bluff. best of luck. PLEASE remember to stick together right now. when things are stressful in the real world like this, we HAVE to band together. we have to figure out how to sort out THIS situation.

stop fighting with each other n realize that there is literally a way bigger threat n tryin 2 figure out if a stranger has a pussy or a dick. like cmon this shit is on a subatomic level of importance rn, u gotta have some priorities. snap out of it & focus.

[girlactionfigure]

He admitted he "was just a schmuck", a regular guy, who worked at his brother's liquor store in Southern California. He lived quietly and died on December 5, 2015 at the age of 86.

Not many knew that this same humble man, an immigrant, had "the remarkable courage and forbearance of a . . . American hero, a man who joined the United States Army to thank the nation and the troops that rescued him from the concentration camp where he had been imprisoned as a teenager, and for whom recognition was delayed for decades because he happened to be Jewish," according to the New York Times.

He said his mom taught him that "There is one God, and we are all brothers and sisters. You have to take care of your brothers, and save them."

"To her, to save somebody’s life is the greatest honor," he added. "And I did that.”

You probably never heard of him. His name was Tibor Rubin. He had to wait 55 years to receive the Medal of Honor he deserved. He was the only Holocaust survivor to receive the Medal of Honor.

He was born in 1929 in Hungary.

At the age of 14, "Tibor Rubin was . . . was deported in 1944 to Mauthausen, the Nazi concentration camp complex in Austria," according to the Washington Post. He never saw his parents nor his younger sister again.

A commandant told him that he would never get out alive.

After 14 months, according to writer Adam Bernstein, Rubin had become "a disease-ridden skeleton."

American troops liberated Mauthausen on May 5, 1945. He was so grateful that accoording to a 2013 documentary film, “Finnigan’s War,” about veterans of the Korean War, Corporal Rubin said in broken English, “I promised the good Lord that if I get out of here alive, I’d become a G.I. Joe, to give back something.”

It took him a while to get to America, but when he finally came to the United States in 1948, he kept his promise and tried to enlist. But, because his English wasn't good enough, he had to wait until 1950, when he literally "cheated his way into the Army, he said, by cribbing the entrance exam, according to the Washington Post.

Because he was not a citizen, he was told he didn't have to fight, but somehow made his way to the Korean front lines, when he said, remembering his mother's words - "Well, what about the others? I cannot leave my fellow brothers.”

His sergeant, according to Bernstein, was "a sadist and anti-Semite" who repeatedly "volunteered" Rubin "on seemingly certain-death assignments."

One of those missions had him "single-handedly [hold] off a wave of North Korean soldiers for 24 hours, securing for his own troops a safe route of retreat." That in itself should have earned him the Medal of Honor.

Corporal Rubin would also "spend 30 months as a prisoner of war in North Korea, where testimony from his fellow prisoners detailed his willingness to sacrifice for the good of others," according to the New York Times.

Because he was not a citizen, his captors offered to return him to Hungary, but he refused, deciding to stay in the isolated camp that the Americans called “Death Valley.” He would not forget his mother's words.

He would risk his life sneaking out of the camp, only to return after he foraged for food and and stole enemy supplies, to bring back "what he could to help nourish his comrades."

“Some of them gave up, and some of them prayed to be taken,” Mr. Rubin later told Soldiers magazine. He did his best to rally them, reminding them of relatives praying for their safe return home.

“He shared the food evenly among the G.I.’s,” Sgt. Leo A. Cormier Jr., a fellow prisoner, wrote in a statement, according to The Jewish Journal. “He also took care of us, nursed us, carried us to the latrine.” He added, “Helping his fellow men was the most important thing to him.”

The prison camp survivors remembered Rubin, crediting him with keeping them alive and saving at least 40 American soldiers.

Rubin received the Purple Heart with 1 bronze oak leaf cluster, but not the Medal of Honor.

He returned home, to the United States, where he would lead a quiet life, rarely talking of his war experience.

When he did talk of his war experience, he said he felt guilty, seeing the countless maimed and lifeless bodies and hearing the agonized screams in Korean from the wounded.

“I had the guilt feeling what I did here,” he later told an interviewer with the Holocaust Awareness Museum and Education Center in Philadelphia. “I killed even the enemy but I killed somebody’s father, brother, and all that. . . . But then again, the truth is that if I don’t kill him, he kill me and vice versa. It’s war. War is hell.”

In the 1980s, he attended a reunion of veterans, where he learned that he had been nominated four times for the Medal of Honor by his grateful comrades, but the sergeant, who hated him for his religion, deliberately ignored the orders from his own superiors to prepare the appropriate paperwork.

In 2002, after Congress passed the Leonard Kravitz Jewish War Veterans Act, Rubin's records were reviewed and the affidavits recommending Rubin for the Medal of Honor were found.

He finally received his Medal of Honor at a 2005 White House ceremony.

“I waited 55 years,” he said. “Yesterday I was just a schmuck. Today, they call me, ‘Sir.’ . . . How I made it, the Lord don’t even know. I don’t even know because I was so many times supposed to die over there, but I’m still here.”

Rubin kept his promise to give back something to the country who saved him, and, in doing so, he also remembered his mother's words to consider everyone a brother and take care of them.

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page  ·

[charmingradiobelle]

So I’m new to your blog so I have some questions based on a few posts: What’s your stance on Vaggie? Are you not looking forward to her sexy song with Charlie? Why do you prefer Charlie’s with Alastor? I’m not judging you it’s more like I avoid ship wars because this fandom is draining.

I don’t usually respond to questions like this anymore because of all the hate I’ve received this past year or so. But you know what anon, since you’re new and I can tell you’re trying to be respectful, I’ll give in one last time.

To answer your questions in order;

I’m personally very neutral on Vaggie. I have many complaints on how she’s written and her relationship with Charlie, but her just as character herself, I’m just sorta ehhh? Don’t hate her but I don’t like her very much either. If she were taken out of the show I wouldn’t feel anything at all, but she’s here to stay so that’s fine by me.

No I am absolutely not looking forward to that. For several reasons, but I’m trying to keep this brief. The main thing I don’t like is this is clearly a sad attempt to give the main couple chemistry that they lacked in the first season. But sex isn’t going to solve that. If you have to make your lead protagonist and her girlfriend have a literal sex-fest on screen to get people to root for them as a couple, then you might need to consider another career besides writing.

There are many reasons why I prefer Charlie and Alastor over any other ship, but I’ll keep it simple. They’re each other’s mirror: a reflection of what they could be if they’d chosen another path. Alastor is a menacing power-hungry sadist who command authority, something the princess of Hell could easily be if her heart were any darker. Charlie is bright-eyed energetic ball of sunshine who sees the best in every situation, something Alastor could’ve been had his life turned out differently (we don’t know what led to him becoming a serial killer but I imagine it’s something traumatic). They are completely different in these aspects but they are so similar at the same time and it’s so intriguing to see how they balance each other out. Alastor literally holds himself back from killing people because of Charlie (he would’ve absolutely killed Pentious in ep2 had Charlie not been so kind and welcomed him in).

To sum it up, charlastor is such a fun and engaging ship in general and in my opinion it feels like a huge wasted opportunity to not make them each other’s love interest. I watched the pilot 5 years ago having absolutely no knowledge about these characters whatsoever and the second Alastor showed up and started interacting with Charlie I genuinely thought they were going to become lovers😭

Anyway I hope this answers your questions well enough, anon! If you’d like to discuss some more I’d be happy to, as long as the conversation stays respectful and civil!

[sideprince]

I can't help but be skeptical. Bullies and abusers often paint themselves as victims to justify their actions to themselves - this can also lead to gaslighting and victim blaming. Sometimes they're really reaching, and sometimes they're enacting the same behaviors on others that someone enacted on them - violence begets violence etc. But that doesn't make it OK. Even if people aren't being bullies in real life, there's a dangerous mentality in enacting bullying behavior online or through fandom because it can lead to enacting it in daily life too.

The thing is, when someone posts something like "all _____ fans need psych evals" or deliberately tags a post to bait a specific fandom, that's deliberate provocation. It's the virtual form of stepping to someone and getting in their face, baiting them to ask the bully to back off so they can use it as an excuse to attack. If the person being baited raises their voice, the bully can use it to say they started the argument when they were doing nothing and shout all the abuse they want. If they put their hand on the bully to hold them back because they're scared, the bully can say they started it and throw a punch. But the act of deliberate provocation is itself a red flag at best, and outright bullying at worst.

Bullying is about control (much like abuse, which is no surprise since they're on the same spectrum). And if you look through posts in the Snapedom, then you'll see that five years ago there was a lot more meta and character exploration, whereas now the dominant theme seems to be arguing back against haters. The narrative has literally been changed - the bullies are controlling it and dominating the conversation even when they aren't actually present. How many posts from the past couple of years are just people arguing against something a hater/Marauders stan said, whether it's directly or in a new post that avoids the conflict of a direct interaction? How much of the discourse around this character is now being shaped by reactions to antis?

The conversation, and perception of the character, is being controlled by bullies who aren't interested in respecting others in the wider fandom, and instead mimic the behavior of their faves, especially when those faves are Marauders, and deliberately target not just Snape as a character but the part of the fandom who finds him compelling and engages with him. That's bullying. It doesn't matter what these people's personal experiences are, if their actions are deliberately targeting certain people and doing so with aggression, even if it's only verbal, that's bullying. And it's likely that this behavior is not different than how these people engage with others in their offline lives, only more exaggerated.

You can think of yourself as an outcast or a misfit and still be a bully. You can be a victim of bullying and still enact that behavior on others. "I was also bullied" isn't a get out of jail free card, you have to check your own behavior. As for what an outcast or a misfit even is, it's subjective, but someone claiming that identity doesn't excuse ba behavior, and it doesn't mean that much especially in the Marauders fandom. Look at James and Sirius - Rowling (boo, hiss) saw them as misfits, talks about them as misfits, but are they? They considered themselves the "height of cool" according to Lupin. They were recruited by Dumbledore himself to fight against Voldemort. Yet they're supposed to be misfits because Sirius rode a motorbike and James... was Head Boy and got married and started a family right after school ended, I guess? Rowling wrote that short story for charity where James and Sirius mess with a pair of cops, but it's not really conveying any kind of anti-policing message, it's just a 2 page short story about a pair of wizards who use a youthful rejection of authority as an excuse to muggle-bait.

Look, some of this character analysis will inevitably be subjective no matter what. I won't claim that my analysis of James and Sirius is any kind of objective fact. But that's also kind of the point - fandom is based around media, and media is inevitably subjective. Anyone trying to assert their subjective perspective as truth is misguided, but doing that in a way that asserts a perspective deliberately onto others and tries to force them to agree, especially using aggression and online harassment and abuse is absolutely bullying. Just because a person says they were bullied or are a misfit or outcast etc. doesn't mean that's their whole story. Their own actions and conduct speak for themselves.

I just post this in spanish because i was on the train and lazy to translate but i'm gonna say the same in english just for my international non-spanish-speakers fellas

Honestly, I’d really like to hear a coherent argument that justifies the constant bashing Snape gets in the fandom because, to this day, I haven’t read anything that makes me think he deserves the sheer amount of crap thrown at him. Like, what’s the worst thing he did in his life? Insult someone? Join a group of idiots and then leave? Not be able to stand a bunch of annoying kids who were always getting into trouble? I don’t know, it sounds a lot like the trajectory of your average adult to me.

[callabang]

jet lag: the game: the rpf primer

so you've just encountered jet lag: the game. maybe this is because you read an insane poly bdsm fic that i wrote and now you want to know about who those guys are. maybe you're ABOUT to read an insane poly bdsm fic that i wrote. maybe you're normal. etc.

what is jet lag the game?

jet lag the game is a travel game show where they use various forms of transit and real-life locations as game mechanics. also curses/challenges/etc. it's not important. essentially they have taken all the parts of travel that are bad and chosen to JUST do those. a lot of times this involves hunting each other for sport. one part travel show one part game show one part chaos. if you want to watch this show, which i recommend, may i suggest:

starting with the new zealand season which rocks my socks and has in my opinion the best guest (toby!!!!!!!!!! a woman), or

viewing the most recent hide and seek season set in japan which is very cute and fun

i am happy to answer more questions about jet lag the game the show / nebula / the layover podcast etc. BUT THIS ISN'T REALLY ABOUT THAT and also i started watching it like two weeks ago so honestly ask maria @killjoys-makesomenoise

let's get weird.

the main boys involved in this show are SAM DENBY, ADAM CHASE, AND BEN DOYLE. they created this show together and are always contestants in each season, sometimes with a guest. there is something sooooo wrong with them for doing this game show

to be clear me and the co-author of this primer maria @killjoys-makesomenoise do not actually know that much about these people and make no claims to biographical accuracy or even a basic understanding of their careers and interests outside of this show. this primer is a collection of curated vibes in support of our fanfiction and nothing else

sam denby

born and raised on youtube. he likes logistics. like in a really serious way he likes logistics. he has a spreadsheet brain full of transit schedules and LOVES! planes and trains and automobiles. he used to have the world's most potent baby face but then he moved to colorado and got into THE OUTDOORS and skiis and runs ultramarathons and so now he's like 6 foot 2 and sleek and muscled etc.

he is extremely blond with long hair that could look good if he did a curly girl routine which he never will. he has like three outfits which are mostly athletic clothes and tshirts and he does pattern mixing but NOT on purpose. he loves to wear a hat and sunglasses and make no expressions and be IN his phone.

he is everyone's boss at jet lag and extremely rigidly ethical and his personal life is a locked box inside a deep dungeon. he's very competitive and strategic and competent but also has really bad luck. he has terrible hand eye coordinate. he's my favorite personally and i want to study him like a bug.

here's a reddit comment that captures some of what he's got going:

Sure, it's logically possible that someone out there could have a generally-less-expressive-than-average voice/face, be obsessed with airline scheduling and high-end car statistics (and jump on any opportunity to list them), react to experiences like fairground rides and bungee jumping in a way that regularly makes people around him go "you're a psychopath", find riddles that require non-literal thinking so hard he thinks they're "not good riddles", seemingly regularly and genuinely forget that other people don't have his specific kind of spreadsheet brain, and thrive on metrics/grind-based sports while lacking overall hand-eye coordination, without being on the autism spectum... but realistically, autism is the easiest way to explain a lot of these things co-occurring, isn't it?

adam chase

he's been a writer for sam's other youtube channels for years and was brought in front of the camera bc sam needed someone to play his insane little games with. he's a sweetie with a squeaky little voice and also he's extremely competitive and i truly believe his resting heart is 120 bpm. he's AGITATED and overprepared. he cares so deeply about every single second of the game whether he's winning or not and also about the game design/planning/production. he has been described as a caretaker and someone who would "be a good dad." he's also not a sore loser at all and is very compassionate! sweetheart.

surprisingly hard to find a good evocative solo pic of adam. here he is with sam in a typical sam outfit and in matching tie-dye with ben. he's so skinny and fast and importantly he's a fucking nerd. also he constantly vocally stims by bursting into song.

benjamin doyle

formerly an intern for sam's other youtube channels, ben was comedy writer friends with adam which is how he got involved in this mess. babygirl and he knows it. online in a tumblr way somehow and also has apparently perused fanfiction of himself and his coworkers. lock ya fics !!!!!!!

he's an indoor cat in a major way and suffers so much physically from competing in what is objectively a very physical show and yet he also is one of the game designers so that's his fault. he's the only one with a sense of style and he dresses like a cartoon character. he's surprisingly droll and lackadaisical and adam and sam thinks he's soooo funny. he loves a gambit and a scheme and enjoys a plan that is 50% vibes. he's little and short and has the biggest most limpid blue eyes of the three of them who all have blue eyes so that's saying something.

here's a redacted-for-spoilers youtube comment about his relationship with adam who he's usually paired up with for team challenges:

The trust that Ben has in Adam!! When he agreed to let Adam make that last wager I thought I was gonna be sick. It must take a lot of self-regulation skill to just stay chill and supportive and crack jokes while witnessing your teammate like, harness the power of childhood [redacted] trauma and in order to dissociate into a [redacted]. Adam is obviously a powerhouse but Ben is an unsung hero, just an absolute rock.

he's probably the only one who ever has a healthy emotional state while they are playing. AND SOMETIMES HE FREAKS OUT and that's great too.

the dynamics.

the main ship is ben/adam but this is OUR PRIMER so we're talking about ben/adam/sam which is the ship that compels us most.

first of all given the format of the show sam by definition haunts the narrative and is the narrator. also ben and adam live in NYC and sam lives in colorado and i think we can all have fun with that bc it shows that sam is a wild private recluse but also he talks to them every single day at work and is obsessed with them.

anyway the premise of the show mandates deep trust in each other and also, again: they all have to have the same thing wrong with them. WHICH THEY DO!

they put themselves in their own little rat race and then film themselves and edit it for us to consume and then debrief and analyze the rat race on their podcast. it's CRAZY. they are always making game plans based on deep psychoanalysis of each other's habits and preferences. they have such deep intimate knowledge of each other that they play against an imaginary version of each other and GET IT CORRECT.

three neurodivergent people have never thought about each other more. they care about each other but also they love tormenting each other. they're all sadists but none of them are masochists so they have to take turns. and what they DON'T know is that we can link any casual work-related commentary into an extensive mental lore of their insane light-bdsm long distance polycule. so translate that into some smut and let's go go go !!!

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Oooh Ghost and Hollow?

Ghost and Hollow

Oooooh boy, I have a lot to say!!!

So, starting off, I hc that Ghost and Hollow are hatchmates born from the same egg. Hollow was able to grow after being taken from the abyss.

Void stills time and growth and because of that, little ghost who spent most of its life in the abyss until escaping not long before the events of the game, did not age.

More on my timeline/time-freeze theory here.

They spent little time together before Hollow was chosen by the king, but their first moments were with each other and deeply impacted them both.

I wrote about this time in my fic, Ink of Void, Quill of Gold, and I'll post those snippets under the cut at the end of this post.

Hollow spent the rest of its life ignoring and repressing all memories and attributed feelings connected to the abyss and its siblings in its attempt to become a pure vessel.

Ghost's memories of Hollow were erased after leaving hallownest, and only a bit of its memory was recovered after returning to its birthplace.

Still even after reliving the climb and watching as its sibling left it clinging to the edge before falling to what might as well have been its demise, Ghost holds no grudge against its sibling.

Knowing what became of Hollow after that, only caused ghost to feel sorrow on its behalf, and further inspired it to rescue its long lost sibling.

Hollow, however, holds a very strong grudge against itself.

After abandoning Ghost, believing it to have died, and then witnessing it's little sibling go through hell to save it despite that,

The amount of guilt Hollow feels and Hollow has always had survivors guilt (just very repressed) concerning its siblings, and especially its hatch-mate, is now even more harrowing.

Now, about that 'betrayal'

I believe Hollow in that moment chose not to pull Ghost up, but also was hoping that Ghost would make it by itself.

It didn't want to appear 'impure' but it did stop and turn around for a reason.

It was waiting to see if it's sibling would make it.

It didn't want Ghost to fall, but it decided against intervening in order to preserve itself.

Hollow was very new to the world, and the world it was born into was especially unfair to all of them. I don't believe there was ever any intention there worthy of holding against it.

(Hollow, though, holds it against itself and refuses to let go.)

While deeply regretful, Hollow is also very appreciative of all of its siblings, Ghost, most of all.

Both for freeing it from centuries of suffering, but also, even more so for freeing the kingdom and at last putting an end to the infection,

More appreciative than it will ever be able to communicate.

(And somewhere underneath all of that gratitude and relief, there is some envy.)

There are all kinds of feelings that both vessels feel concerning each other. Pity, sorrow, jealousy, but in the end, they could never resent each other for anything.

They love each other above all else.

Post-ending relationship:

My ghost is a little guy who does its own thing and is very determined about that thing no matter how important or how trivial.

Not good at being social but gets easily attached to people.

Loves its family and tries its best.

Ghost wants to see its sibling heal and find peace and wants to be a part of that.

Hollow is so so so (ironically) complex.

A stalwart sweetie who's literal every thought and action coincides with intense inner conflict.

Hollow wants to make it up to its family, let them know through any means possible how much it loves and appreciates them, knowing that it's true and what they deserve, while also dealing with ptsd every time it showcases any amount (especially large amounts) of individual thought/expression.

Hollow's whole life revolved around this idea that its own individual thought/expression = failure to save others who will otherwise suffer and die.

Which they did.

So yeah, Hollow desperately wants to offer to its siblings the same amount of affection given, but it's very difficult.

Throughout our post canon series, Hollow undergoes quite a bit of healing, and it becomes easier over time. (The series actually begins months after Hollow's been free, and it's already doing better. Mostly physically.)

Bonding over:

Hollow and Ghost bond over their love of and dedication to knighthood.

They enjoy sparring with eacother. (Their friends + family enjoy watching as its most amusing to watch such a tiny bug so determined to take down a literal giant XD)

Hollow teaches Ghost much of what it learned while training to become the kingdom's greatest knight, (and is inwardly so so happy that its sibling is most interested in the one skill it feels most comfortable engaging in.)

Ghost lowkey thinks Hollow is the most impressive being alive.

Also! they like to battle with their horns the way beetles do! (Which looks especially ridiculous, obviously. Considering their size difference XD)

Other things they enjoy together include:

• Music. Especially their mother's music.

• Nature and the outdoors.

• Collecting little trinkets. (Ghost loves bringing its findings to Hollow to show them off and to share.)

Brotherhood:

The vessels are genderless but both Ghost and Hollow will use masculine titles, especially that of 'brother.'

(On Ghost's part largely inspired by the nailmasters, who in our post-canon series all find eachother again and make up.)

Butting heads over:

Tbh, they'll butt heads over lots of little things. Usually because Hollow is a perfectionist, and both of them are incredibly stubborn.

The only thing that will result in a devastating argument between them would be the subject of the Pale king.

Ghost doesn't hate their father, but it certainly does not care for him and holds some resentments.

Hollow will not hear anything negative about the king. Ever. At all.

Its extremely defensive response to any (often times quite fair) negative judgments of the king and his actions is largely a result of its time spent with the Radiance.

Ultimately, the subject is one the two agree not to discuss around each other.

Tbh, I could continue going into detail about all of this and more, but this response is already long enough XD

(These two mean so much to me!!!)

So I'll end it with these snippets from my fic below the cut:

I forgot to say in the notes on ao3 but Ghost being saved by Hollow (by relying on Hollow's strength to pull it from the egg) was a very intentional detail, meant to parallel Ghost saving Hollow in the future.

Both of them free the other from a black egg !!!

[fake-fun]

[variousqueerthings]

so 11pm thoughts but ive gotta exorcise them a bit because

I kinda thought ray leaving would be a bit of a one and done, which is a fair enough way to play it, but then they didn't so now im chewing on wholly unexpected material here! much to go over and this won't cover it!

i also didn't expect ray kowalski to be undercover as ray vecchio which is very interesting from an identity perspective (we shall return to that!)

so firstly, i like that it's been done this way. a quick auf wiedersehen would have been less poignant, less interesting for the story, potentially also less in-character for fraser, who is losing his main tie to the city (whom i also previously theorised is the main reason why fraser ended up staying in s2 in the first place, in witness) and youknow. his best and only real friend his entire life aside from diefenbaker

and obviously ray vecchio is haunting the narrative in episodes 1+2. he's got his actual goodbye, which is already super loaded (he's gonna get in touch, we're waiting for him to get in touch!), and then there's the fact that everyone is saying that this other guy, who clearly isn't ray vecchio, is ray vecchio, there's the house burning down, the car burning down, the investigation of this new guy who has entered in a sort of fascinating changeling-esque sort of way, there's the not knowing where ray vecchio is! and there's the photograph (he's cold! i know this was done for the secret code # canada reference, but i was also thinking about ghost!ray, because he is, effectively, a ghost now!)

ray is, for most of episode 1, both effectively gone-and-not-gone (i'd say dead, but we'll get to that, because he is not dead, so why does he feel dead), and at the end of it fraser is given a mandate to take care of new-ray (who at this point still isn't ray kowalski) and this has two functions: first, to take care of new-ray, a man who is clearly not feeling great at this point in life and needs a good partner (and fraser has now come far enough in his character development that he can hold that a bit more). second, to protect ray vecchio, because the only reason ray kowalski is pretending to be him is to maintain vecchio's cover -- again, a lingering presence over the plot

of course the sheer destruction of everything that signals ray vecchio is also that literal loss, not much to analyse there, it's just bad news on top of bad news for fraser, who, again, is really mostly in this city because of ray, and now has to reform himself around ray kowalski

ray kowalski is himself in a loss/grieving process. he's also, since i mentioned changeling (up until he Becomes Himself in episode 2) kind of fae in vibes, so far. something about him is untetherable-downable (yes this is real phrasing, my phrasing is not flawed at all). he's impulsive, hot-tempered, impatient... i wouldn't say "unreliable" it's just that he seems to not quite value the place he is right now, which is why he goes off the grid to do his own thing, alongside said own thing being something he feels he needs to do for himself (and by himself until fraser comes and helps in that way he does) and i think post-ep2 he'll potentially be more able to commit to the job, especially now fraser Knows him a bit better and he's not completely without identity, but he's got a sort of here-today-gone-tomorrow feeling to him, similar to fraser in his early days

i cannot quite get to the heart of the identity thing, but he just feels like a guy who's floundering and needs a direction/to regain a sense of identity. he's lost some part of himself, and seemed compelled enough by the idea of pretending to be, not just someone else, but someone else who already exists, but also that obviously didn't work like he hoped it would

there's the ex-wife, whom he clearly still thinks about, there's the fact that he's gone undercover and it feels like he's trying to almost escape something about himself, but also he obviously isn't happy about this lack of self, he wants to be known/seen (by fraser, bit by bit), so he also comes into the story wounded

(i do, slight sidenote, wonder if the fae-aspect to him will continue -- im going to assume yes, but mellower... again, smthsmth domestication, similar to early days fraser)

i also have been sort of spoiled that fraser this season keeps the red suit on most of the time, which is fun to read from a "buttons himself up again under the veneer of kind, polite man" vs the gradually increasing casual-wear we saw him in, especially in s2 (although quite early on in s1 as well

fraser in episode 1 feels lost/wrong-footed/somewhat in denial (the "proving that this man is not ray vecchio when that's very obvious" really gave the vibe of a guy hoping they'd say sike and ray might pop out of a plant somewhere)/desperate to hold onto some element of ray until he's informed that this is literally impossible (except... the photograph) because even to mention ray vecchio is dangerous, and in episode 2 he seems settled, but very remote in comparison to how he'd grown to be. there's a duty there. a mandate. he's going to take care of this other sad man. at some point i assume this other sad man will take care of him too, but in ep1+2 fraser is too buttoned up to show any of that vulnerability, although it does bleed through if you know where to look/what to compare to

the whole birthday party in episode two was what felt the most like there was a gaping hole. it was for ray. who is not there. there was a (very elaborate, homemade) gift for ray, who is not there. the ray-not-being-there element isn't exactly a wake, but it's not not a remembrance, of sorts

and fraser isn't mourning him. why should he? this is a birthday party, not a funeral. he's not dead, so what reason is there to grieve? he's not a lover, so what permitted relationship-structure is there to grieve? he's simply... gone. and the grief is there in the hanging on to him throughout both episodes, even so. and there's nobody he could talk to about it, even if that were allowed (maybe ma vecchio)

i presume, like with grief, that this hanging-on will gradually fade somewhat -- it already has: ray kowalski is now ray kowalski, so already he is neither a changeling nor a ghost/reminder, he's someone new, and this newness will overtake the melancholy that overlaid the first two episodes

and as the caretaking mandate part of the story is replaced by genuine friendship, that mandate will also cease to be The Important Thing, and so their relationship won't be tied to fraser's former partner either

and ray kowalski himself will be able to come to terms with the things that affect him and be a partner to fraser in return

but for those two episodes they're both kinda hurt, both kinda unsure, both having to figure out what all of this means for their identities, both having to go through a reforming (neither of them, i think, is at the end of that by far by end episode 2)

and it's grief

brb gotta chew on the idea that the first two episodes of due south s3 are about loss and grief. and wondering (and having been hinted at a bit) that the rest of s3 is as well. totally different ballgame from what i expected the season to be like!

[cent-scratchnsniff]

it was just going to be a few warmup doodles but then she infected the rest of the page like the ever eternal and spreading spores. hod!!! hod. hod :)

[nicorobinphd]

stg, being an enjoyer of jane twdg is like being forced into an expert-level course on the way misogyny manifests in video game spaces.

god forbid a woman be complex or difficult or provably mischaracterized (see tags) at the end of her arc to service the culmination of a man’s storyline.