#man she got so much hate back in the day and for what | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caramelkoo · 14 hours ago

Text

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing.

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile.

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.”

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?”

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have.

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.”

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter.

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?”

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No.

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes.

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves.

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it.

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides.

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me.

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense.

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.”

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?”

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything?

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?”

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you.

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

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“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always.

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.”

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing.

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?”

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.”

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices.

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work.

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?”

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it?

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew.

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness.

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness.

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?”

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries.

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up.

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.”

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss”

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing.

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate.

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

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Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won.

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off.

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know?

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him.

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade?

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory.

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man.

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?”

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones.

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.”

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?”

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?”

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle.

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways.

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off.

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh.

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back.

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The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room.

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.”

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps.

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you.

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts.

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.”

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive.

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.”

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?”

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod.

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-”

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows.

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway.

“Excuse me.”

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?”

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.”

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?”

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.”

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before.

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision.

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter.

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him.

“You fucking bitch.”

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished.

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize.

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe”

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care.

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you.

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back.

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”.

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?”

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.”

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At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question.

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her.

Initially, it bothered him. A lot.

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?”

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse.

Thump thump thump.

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.”

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.”

And he does. For now.

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one.

Just when he thinks _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?”

“Come here.”

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.”

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?”

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.”

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint.

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers.

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine.

The feeling is very much mutual.

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting.

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will.

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it.

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily.

“Please.” she begs.

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?”

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.”

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her.

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her.

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that.

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car.

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?”

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?”

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers.

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own.

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick.

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?”

“As sure as one can be.”

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers.

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her.

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch.

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her.

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure.

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name.

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back.

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?”

She cries out.

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god”

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.”

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again.

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders.

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate.

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts.

“What?”

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes”

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?”

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words.

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry.

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.”

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angellic4l · 2 days ago

Text

don’t hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

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sleepingorshifting · 23 hours ago

Text

Smitten..!

pinkmermaid!reader x soft!rafe

plot : reader gets super drunk at a party her and Rafe are at, and is suddenly smitten for Rafe.

warnings : alcohol, but overall none - its just fluff :)

word count : 566

authors note : First fic, kinda nervous ;) - masterlist coming soon

"Yo Rafe, you seen your girl?" Topper asks, appearing behind Rafe, beer in hand.

"Nah, why?" Rafe asks, slowly sipping at his own beer.

"Because man" he laughs, "she's suuuuuuper drunk" Topper exclaims, also super drunk.

"Oh god" Rafe groans, expecting the worst. Maybe you'd thrown up and he would have to help clean you up, or maybe you had done something stupid like fallen into the pool.

Rafe turns around as he begins making his way through the sea of people, shoving them aside as he tries to find you, his girl.

As he steps outside where the party continued, he looked around before hearing a familiar gasp.

"Rafey babyyy!!" you giggle, throwing up your arms for a hug, two solo cups in hand.

"Oh baby" he sighs in relief, hugging you back. He takes the cups out of your hand while you were distracted as he begins asking you questions.

"Having fun baby?" he asks, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"mmhmm" you mumble, your head pressed into his chest.

"Missed you" he admits as he holds you close.

"Did you know that you smell really really nice Rafey?" you ask him, taking in the scent of his shirt.

"Wha- did I know that I smell nice? What?" he asks, confused.

"Nyeah, you smell really really really nice" you giggle. "And have I ever told you how much I love your huuuuuge bisceps?"

"Babe what's got into you?" he laughs.

Although he had to admit your behaviour was strange, he wasn't exactly complaining. It wasn't every day his girl was smitten over him.

"Nothing, just love. Loves gotten into me" you smile, pulling yourself off of him to take a look at his face. "My handsome boy" you admire as you brush your hands over his jawline with a drunk pout.

"You're so cute like this" he grins, picking you up. "But, I do think its time to go back home missy, you're too drunk" he says sternly.

"Nooo Rafey noo" you groan, kicking your legs in the air dramatically. "Put me down right now mister" you demand, grumpily hitting his chest lightly. "Or else I'm going to have to punish you, and I hate punishing cutie patooties" you say, your nose scrunching.

"Oh I'm a cutie patootie now huh?" he laughs as he unlocks his truck.

"mmhmm" you nod.

"Alright in the car now babe", he says as he opens the door like a gentleman, helping you up into your seat.

He shuts the door and walks around to his side of the truck, turning the truck on.

"Seatbelt baby" he reminds. After getting no immediate response from you he turns to see you asleep, leant against the window. He sighs as he does the seatbelt up for you, and leans your chair back slightly so you would be more comfortable.

As he was about to start driving he pauses for a second, turning to face you as he looked down at your sleeping figure. He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before driving off into the night, leaving the roaring party behind.

The entire drive back, he kept stealing small glances at you, making sure you were sleeping soundly and comfortably, occaisionally patting your head lightly.

Maybe it wasn't just you smitten tonight, but Rafe as well. But I guess you probably won't remember in the morning anyways...

#rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #pinkmermaid!reader

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masterjedilenawrites · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!!! I listening to the Florence and the Machine song “girl with one eye” and it got me in a super angsty mood, and I had this idea that what if reader saves Rex from being tortured like a heroine and does the dramatic bridal carry and everything, instead of the usual reader being saved like a lot of fics end up writing in terms of super angst (absolutely no hate, I love those too) I just think it would be nice to see the reader being extremely capable!

You obviously do not have to write anything like this, I just had the idea and you are by far one of my favorite writers (my dyslexic ass cant write for shit)

Anyways, hope you have a wonderful day!

Saving Rex

Rex x reader | 4.4k words

Content: torture (not shown but discussed), injuries, general angst, reader with some physical strength/stamina, friends to lovers, hope and love prevail

Note: I'd really like to believe I could carry Rex down a flight of stairs if I needed to. Maybe I'll use that for motivation during my next workout 😝 (Also this got really emotional in some places, please don't hate me)

To say you were panicking was an understatement. Rex had never been this late to a rendezvous. And with comms jammed, there weren't many options to figure out what could be keeping him. It was one of your only nightmares coming true. Something happening to that noble, wonderful man you called a friend.

You paced restlessly between the walls of the bunker, an eye on the door at all times. Any noise, any howl of the wind or scrape of someone's boot on the concrete floor, made you twitch in alarm. You had never experienced the seconds ticking by so slowly. Kriff, where was he?

"You should get some rest."

While you watched the door, Anakin watched you. Normally he would tease over any emotion you showed for his Captain; no matter how much you tried to keep such feelings under wraps, the Jedi always seemed to sense the truth anyway. But now he put jokes aside and did what he could to quell your anxieties.

You only shook your head in response and continued your pacing.

Anakin sighed and fell back in his chair. The other men in the bunker were anxious, too. Even if he couldn't feel it, he could see it all around. Bouncing knees. Fiddling with random objects. Untouched food and unspoken words. No one was going to sleep, even though everyone needed it. It was going to be a long night. Unless Rex found his way back.

Anakin could admit he was worried for the clone, too. They had fought alongside each other for so long now, it didn't seem possible that there'd be a day where one of them was no longer standing. But what he couldn't admit, at least not to anyone else, was that he had a very bad feeling this time. He kept trying to reach out in the Force, find some trace of his comrade out there, and he kept coming back with an even worse feeling than before.

A sudden sound at the door caused everyone to sit up, tense and hopeful. Three knocks with a very specific rhythm. Someone from your team. You could barely breathe as you waited for Anakin to open the door.

Ahsoka hurried through, along with a gust of wind that fluttered some of the more lightweight objects around the room. Anakin quickly shut it behind her. You'd almost forgotten she had been out, too. Gone to look for Rex, help him get back. But she hadn't brought anyone back with her. Now you really couldn't breathe.

"What'd you find?" asked Anakin, noting the urgent expression on the young girl's face.

"They've taken him to the fortress across the south bridge. I followed a... trail," she quickly glanced over at you, omitting what the trail was composed of for your sake, though you could make an educated guess if you had to. "They have him in a tower. I couldn't get eyes on him, but... Well, I could hear him."

Her face screwed up in distress at the memory and everyone in the room knew exactly what she meant.

"Any way we can carry out an extraction?" asked Anakin.

"If not now, then when?" You marched forward, determined and resolute. You could breathe again, though just barely. "Nighttime. Storm. Now is the only time."

Anakin still looked to his padawan for confirmation. She'd seen the fortress and would know whether it was a risk worth taking, even for someone as dear to them as Rex.

To your satisfaction, Ahsoka didn't hesitate to nod quickly. "That's why I hurried back as fast as I could. I couldn't get to him on my own, but with a small team...."

"It'll have to be really small. We can't risk blowing our cover here," Anakin agreed and finally uncrossed his arms. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been holding himself this whole time. But now there was some hope, and all that was needed to reach it was a bit of daring action. Something he was never in short supply of, and something hew knew Rex wouldn't hesitate to do for him if the roles were reversed.

"You, me," you motioned to yourself and Anakin. "Ahsoka can keep guard here."

"And me," came a clone's voice by your side. All of them were intently listening to the conversation, and while any one of them would have been eager to volunteer to save their Captain, one knew he was needed more than any other. Kix.

"There may not be time to administer first aid on sight," Anakin cautioned.

Kix puffed himself up a bit. "I'll do what I can. You two focus on getting us out without a fuss."

Anakin smirked and you cast him a grateful smile of your own. This was not an ideal outcome, learning that Rex was in distress. But at least he wasn't dead yet, and you could work with that. Now his fate was in your hands. And with a burning fire in your heart, you knew you would save him.

- - -

Rex waited until the echoing of their footsteps was gone before allowing himself to collapse. His knees hit cold stone but the jolt was barely felt amongst the rest of the pain radiating throughout his body. He curled in on himself, arms gently folding around the worst of the injuries in his middle, and his head hung low in exhaustion.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. He hated the thought, but it was true. An entire day of torment and torture, relentless and unforgiving. Even with all his training, this situation was proving difficult to bear.

There was only one thing keeping him alive, he was sure of it. You. The memories of your smile, your laughter, all the lovely things you somehow said at just the right times. The thought of you continuing on without ever knowing how he felt. You were strong and capable in your own right, but he still wanted to be there for you. To protect you. To love you.

Gods, how he loved you.

He couldn't be broken in this place. No, not before seeing you one more time. He would give you his heart, and then he could finally let go.

- - -

Your feet thunked against each step of the spiraling stone stairs. Anakin's and Kix's were not far behind. Only a few guards and droids had had to be taken care of thus far, done swiftly and discretely by the two soldiers while you focused on navigating through the labyrinth of the fortress to the tower that held Rex. But as soon as you'd reached the door leading upward, Anakin had voiced his unease. Worse was coming, he insisted. And if they proceeded, they'd be just as trapped in that tower as their Captain was.

You pushed forward without a second thought.

And they reluctantly followed.

You weren't dumb. You knew it was foolish to rush into an enemy's territory with no plan and no backup. You knew you could be condemning Rex with your impulsive actions rather than saving him. But somehow, those sensible thoughts were overwhelmed by a deep and desperate need to find him at any cost. If you could just see him, then everything would be okay.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. One step and then another and another. Your lungs heaved and your thighs burned but you kept climbing. You weren't sensitive to the Force, but you swear you could feel yourself getting closer to him.

The sudden sound of a lightsaber igniting behind you finally gave you pause. You stumbled on the next step as you slowed and turned. Anakin had stopped several steps below and was staring downward, waiting for something.

"What is it, sir?" Kix huffed beside him.

Anakin only held up a finger as if he were trying to listen. You were panting, too, and tried to hold in a breath so you could hear whatever he could. There was only the hum of a lightsaber and the wailing of the wind from the other side of stone walls.

And then suddenly there was pounding. The whole tower seemed to shake with the thunderous footsteps of soldiers making their way upward, blocking your only way back out. Anakin jerked his head toward you.

"Go. Find him. I'll push them back."

As Anakin rushed downward, Kix wavered in between. Rex would need his aid, but his aid would be worthless if they couldn't escape. He finally looked back at you, too.

"You've got this," he stated before raising his blaster and following General Skywalker.

You resumed your trek upward, your attention slipping back to its previous singular focus of finding Rex. Of seeing him again. Alive.

You finally reached the top of the tower and were met with a simple wooden door. Again, you knew you should slow down and think through a strategy. What if there were guards on the other side? What if their blades slipped because you startled them? But you couldn't help yourself. You'd come too far to not burst right through.

There were no guards. There were no blades. But there was, thankfully, distressingly, Rex.

He was slumped against the far wall. Motionless. You crossed the room with a few bounding strides and gently pulled him away from the wall.

You'd anticipated him being in bad shape, but not to this extent. His armor was stripped and the tattered clothes they had him in instead did nothing to hide his condition. Bruises along his arms. A sickly pallor to his skin. Dark circles beneath his eyes and cracks along his lips. His head swung toward you listlessly as you turned him. You quickly positioned his body against yours and your hand cradled his head in support.

"Rex," you coaxed, willing your voice to remain strong. Panic wouldn't help him like this. "Rex, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here. Okay?"

His eyelids fluttered but couldn't seem to stay open. He did turn toward your voice, and through a series of near-unintelligible mutters, you managed to make out your name.

"Yes," you smiled, moving your hand to cup the side of his head so you could run a soothing thumb along his cheek. "Yes, it's me. I'm here. I've got you. You're okay now."

He shifted his arms, and at first you thought he was ready to try standing. You made to move, too, but then noticed he was doing something else. He held his hand over his chest, on the side of his heart. And then slowly, his other hand reached out to rest onto your chest.

You shook your head at him, not understanding. Was he hurt there? Did they do something to his heart?

Then Rex's worn face contorted into what could only be a smile. A small but serene smile, like he'd finally found peace. The smile slowly slipped away and his body started to feel heavier in your arms.

Now you couldn't keep the panic at bay. It came out in full force, along with tears and desperate squeezing.

"No no no. Rex. Wake up, Rex. Please. You can rest soon but we have to leave first. Okay? We have to go now. Please."

You didn't know what to do beyond pleading and shaking him. He couldn't slip away now, not when you'd just gotten here. A part of you had hoped that maybe, just by seeing you, his spirits would lift. That you would be that little kickstart to his heart that'd help him keep going. But sadly, it seemed your fantasies of him returning your affections were only that. In reality, you could have been anybody coming to his rescue, and you'd be too late either way.

No. You shook yourself now. No, it didn't matter how he felt or didn't feel. You loved him. That fire in your heart was still burning, and you were going to get him out of here alive.

You carefully but swiftly got your legs back under you, still keeping Rex's body supported as you maneuvered each other into the right position. You weren't a soldier. You didn't have the same build as the clones. But damn if you weren't just as determined and capable. So with a deep, steadying breath, you heaved his body across your back. One of your arms wrapped around his closest leg, keeping it tight against your side as you reached across to grab at his arm. He was heavy, but secure, and you knew you could carry him this way for as long as it'd take to escape. And as an added bonus, you'd heard a soft grunt from him as he'd bent over your shoulders. He was still alive.

You wasted no time standing around with the extra weight. You were back out the door and heading down the stairs faster than you could register. One hand running along the wall for balance and the other firmly grasped on Rex's forearm. Your thighs had done the most work to get you up the stairs; now it was your knees taking the brunt of effort going down. In your mind you alternated between prayers for your joints and prayers for Rex's life.

The sounds of your steps were drowned by the reverberating sounds of combat. The echoes made it hard to tell their distance away as you continued your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable, feeling more and more grateful the further you went without sight of any blaster fire. You estimated only a quarter of the way left by the time you met some of the carnage on the stairs. Sizzling metal and blaster marks on the walls. It was another several of floors of picking your way between it all before you then came across Kix and Anakin. They'd made good progress pushing the onslaught back.

You hovered just beyond their reach so as to keep Rex away from the crossfire. Anakin's lightsaber did most of the work to keep the enemy at a distance, though occasionally a shot would ricochet onto the wall by your head. But slowly and surely, you were all able to make it down to the next step. Lower and lower. Closer and closer to the end.

Eventually Kix was able to pause in his help and scurry up to check on Rex. He nodded at you when he confirmed a pulse but was just as unsuccessful as you in his efforts to get the Captain to wake.

"Dehydration, possible blood loss from these wounds here," the medic chattered, more to himself than anyone, as he dug through his pack. He tore open a bacta patch and slapped it across an oozing mess of scabs on Rex's shoulder and then handed you a stim while he continued to rummage.

You jabbed the stim into the back of Rex's thigh, thrilled that you managed to elicit another groan from him. Any sign of life was a good one at this point.

"Need me to take over?" Kix asked once he'd found a breathing mask and stood back up. You shook your head, already heading back down the stairs. Anakin had managed to get through a good amount more of the droids. Kix shrugged and then rushed ahead to continue laying down blaster fire.

The fight to escape took far longer than anyone would have wanted. Even once you'd made it out of the stuffy tower, there was the maze of hallways to run back through, and more enemies to fight along the way. All hopes of a stealthy rescue were long gone. It made you nervous, wondering if you'd be able to make it out at all, at this point. The further you moved into the open, the harder it was to keep fighting. If you were lucky enough to make it outside the fortress of droids, then you'd be surrounded by a storm. You were but a Jedi, a medic, and a civilian staff member carrying a near-unconscious soldier. The path forward was looking rather grim.

You eventually got yourselves into what seemed to be a supply closet. You knew there was a service door leading outside down one end of the hall, and the front entrance to the fortress itself was only around another corner as well. But you were flanked by droids on either side. Anakin kept the door to the closet open so he could continue to pick off the droids, while you were finally able to take a break from carrying Rex as Kix more properly tended to some of his injuries.

"How's he looking?" Anakin asked over his shoulder. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was glad Rex was alive, but they were all running out of options. From his estimates, they'd either need to surrender and think through a better escape plan later, or barrel forward with a Hail Mary and hope for the best. Either option would be difficult with Rex in this state. If he was getting worse... if he wasn't going to make it... Anakin shuddered at the thought of having to make that call.

Kix didn't immediately answer. He'd removed the breathing mask which seemed to have sparked some energy back into Rex. He was groaning and huffing, clutching at his midsection and rolling his head back and forth restlessly. Kix tried getting his attention but the Captain only continued to fidget and groan.

"Was he like this when you found him?" Kix asked you.

"No, he was quieter. He knew who I was, though."

Kix motioned for you to come closer. "See if he'll respond to you again."

"Rex." You quickly saddled up by his side, ignoring the pain in your back and legs from crouching. "Rex, look at me. It's okay. Just breathe. You'll be okay."

Surprisingly, your voice seemed to work. Rex stilled, turning his head toward the sound. That weird little smile crept back on his face.

"Rex?"

He responded with your name, small and rasping, but clear all the same. You couldn't help but smile in return.

"Oh good, you are awake enough."

With lightning speed, Kix was back in view with a vial of... something. He tipped it into Rex's mouth and held his hand over to keep the Captain from spitting it back out. Rex sputtered and writhed against Kix's hand but eventually swallowed the liquid down with a hard, painful gulp. Rex's eyes had shot open in the process. They were red, but alert.

"It's okay," you tried soothing again. Rex relaxed against the wall he was propped against and locked his eyes with yours.

"You... came... for me?" he croaked out.

You nodded. For a second, you could have sworn tears were brimming in Rex's eyes. Maybe it was only the medicine.

"Hate to ruin the moment," Anakin called back out. The blaster fire from the hall had grown louder, closer. "But we're out of time here. Kix, anything in this closet we can fashion into a grenade?"

The medic scrambled up to look amongst the shelves.

"Rex, you able to stand? I need you both shooting blasters if you can manage it."

"I will try."

Rex was already trying to push himself off the wall. You wrapped an arm around his back and help hoist him up. His legs shook wildly from the sudden weight. You kept him leaning against you, one arm over your shoulder.

"It's okay, I've got you."

Rex smiled down at you, far too softly for what the situation allowed. You held his gaze with surprise.

Kix was pouring random bottles into each other, hoping they'd make the desired effect. Anakin was cursing as the droids drew nearer. Rex seemed to be trying to tell you something with his eyes. And just when you were about to suggest looking into the air vent situation of this place, there came a large and reverberating kaboom.

You all froze. Including the droids, who then appeared to have been given new orders as they neatly turned in the opposite direction and marched away. Something had happened by the entrance. After a few moments, you could hear their blasters firing again, along with the sounds of other weapons. Familiar weapons. Anakin grinned.

"Obi-Wan," he said before running after them.

You could've cried. Instead, you looked back up at Rex and smiled.

"Ready to go home?"

- - -

You hadn't left Rex's side for a second, much to Kix's chagrin. It was that much harder to heal a battered brother with a stubborn civvy sitting in the way. But, despite his many grumbling complaints, he still let you stay. He knew your heart. And Rex's. It'd be best for both of you to keep close, until you knew each other's.

Though when Rex did wake, you could barely get out one tearfully happy hello before seemingly everyone else on base came to his side, too.

"Thank the gods you're alive!"

"Glad you're okay, brother."

"Good to have you back."

"Can't keep a good man down."

Rex appreciated their words, he really did. He tried not to notice how silent you'd fallen amongst them. It was your words he wanted to hear most.

"How did we get out of there?" he instead asked Anakin. He remembered waking in a dark room, Kix shoving something down his throat, your voice as you sweetly called his name. Beyond that was a blur. He was pretty sure he'd passed out once he tried walking.

"I kept think about the storm," Ahsoka was the one to answer instead. "And how it would give them cover getting to the fortress. And then I thought if they happened to get caught, that'd provide just enough distraction for us to start with a good attack."

"And by us, she of course means the 212th," smirked Cody. Obi-Wan was busy sending word back to Coruscant on the mission, though they all owed it to the Jedi's decision to go looking for General Skywalker and the missing 501st. Without the added reinforcements, Ahsoka's plan wouldn't have stood a chance.

"We're just really glad you're alive, Rex," Ahsoka said softly.

"Yeah, we don't know what we would have done without you," said Anakin, though he was looking toward you as he said it. Everyone else followed his gaze, causing you to blush at the sudden attention.

"They carried you the whole way, you know," Anakin added, now directed toward Rex.

Rex's eyes grew wide, impressed.

"Don't you remember?" prompted Kix.

"I... remember you finding me," Rex told you. "In that cell. I remember feeling hope again."

Your ears were still hot from Anakin's obvious insinuations of your feelings, and now everyone was giving each other looks at Rex's words. You decided to deflect with some humor.

"Right before you tried to cop a feel," you smirked.

That did the trick. A chorus of salacious oohs and laughter rang through the rank of clones gathered. Fives went up and clapped Rex's shoulder, his bad one. Rex's wincing caused Kix to hastily shoo away Fives and everyone else making a ruckus. You remained, noticing that through it all, Rex had a blush rivaling your own.

"I... I didn't..." he stammered once most of his visitors had disappeared. Anakin gave you one last look before then coaxing Ahsoka to leave as well.

"It's okay," you reassured. "You were out of it."

"No, I wasn't, I... I was..." Rex huffed. He was having a hard time finding the right words. "Never mind, it's silly."

He fell back against the pillows with a sigh. You scooted your stool forward and rested your hands on the bedside.

"Please tell me, Rex. I feel like you've been trying to tell me something ever since I found you. But I was so focused on trying to keep you alive, I didn't understand. I'm sorry."

Rex smiled back at you, encouraged. "It's alright. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would make it out alive. But I... well... I didn't want to let go without..." He paused, embarrassed again. This was going to sound ridiculous if you didn't feel the same.

"Without...?"

"Without giving you my heart first."

He looked at you hesitantly to find your lips had parted in surprise.

"I know. It was a silly thought--"

"No," you breathed. Your hands now slid from the blanket onto his. The memory of him in your arms, beaten and bruised, using what strength he had left to gesture between his heart and yours... you wished you'd understood then. You'd thought he hadn't cared for you in that way at all.

Rex's eyes watered along with yours as your hands clasped together and a newfound understanding settled in between.

"You can't ever disappear on me like that again," you said with a wobble in your voice. "Anakin's right, I don't know what I would have done without you. I... I love you too much to even think of it."

Rex brought your hands up to meet his lips. He kissed your knuckles softly.

"I love you, too. And... I think I'm going to need to reconsider some things, knowing that you love me back."

He gazed over your clasped hands and met the eyes of Anakin, on the other side of the medbay looking in on the other patients. He wasn't the only injured soldier from the mission. General Skywalker was a good man for checking on them, just as he would do once he could stand on his own feet again. The look he now shared with the Jedi was one of agreement. A lot had changed from this mission, and a lot would need to still change. Love, sometimes, took priority even in war. Anakin knew that better than most.

"I don't want you to--" you started to say as realization dawned. But Rex quickly shook his head.

"We have time to discuss it. Right now, just let me hold you."

You didn't need to be asked twice. Helping him carefully scoot over, you then slipped under the hospital blanket and tucked yourself in at his side. It felt right, like where you were always meant to be.

Your worst nightmare had played out in a harrowing day of panic and fear. And now your greatest dream was nestled at your side, safe and sound and alive. It had been a frightening price to pay, one you hoped you'd never have to spend again, but the heart you now held was surely a worthy reward.

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kikyoupdates · 23 hours ago

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Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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Rowan is honestly having the time of his life.

From the moment he heard about Alistair’s engagement falling through, he had a feeling it would be a huge sore spot for him. Never in a million years would he have expected Alistair, of all people, to be broken up with. For as long as he can remember, everyone has always viewed him as perfection incarnate. He’s a man without flaws—or at least, he’s brainwashed others into believing that he is.

And yet, someone rejected him. Someone was finally able to look past all the bullshit and see Alistair for what he truly is.

Rowan knew right then and there that you were the woman of his dreams.

“...are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Alistair is angry. That much is clear as day, much to Rowan’s immense delight. Alistair gets annoyed with him all the time, and it’s no secret that they both hate each other’s guts, but it’s a rare treat to see him get this worked up. He can’t remember the last time he was privy to such a visceral display of anger. It’s ridiculously entertaining.

Despite how badly he wants to break down into a fit of laughter, Rowan tilts his head to the side and decides to feign ignorance.

“I beg your pardon? I understand you’re upset, dear cousin, but I’m not so sure why you’re taking it out on me. [Name] is the one who ended the engagement, is she not? It hardly seems fair to make me the subject of your anger.”

Alistair grits his teeth. “Spare me the theatrics. You know full well what you’ve done. Is there really no limit to how far you’ll sink, Rowan? Are you really so pathetic that you’ll pursue my former fiancée purely to spite me?”

“What a hateful thing to say,” Rowan sighs, shaking his head. “I would never act on such petty emotions. Of course, I realize that this isn’t exactly conventional, and I had a feeling it would upset you, but I’d been interested in [Name] well before you got engaged to her. Now that the two of you are no longer involved, I simply decided to act on my feelings, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. You never breathed a word about her. It seems rather coincidental that you claim to be so enamored with her all of a sudden.”

“Well, yes, because I had been holding back on your account. It hardly felt proper to express desire towards another man’s fiancée, let alone my own cousin’s.” Rowan pauses, and soon enough, he can’t hide his smile anymore. “I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted to marry her, of course. This was all just a hunch I had. But now that I’ve spoken to her face to face, I’ve made up my mind. She’s such a charming young woman. A real breath of fresh air. In fact, I dare say I’m already head over heels for her.”

Alistair��s eyes bulge out of his head, and this time, Rowan simply can’t resist the urge to laugh.

“Charming…?” Alistair blinks in disbelief. “You say [Name] is charming? That snobby, mannerless woman? Do you even know what she said to me? She called me unattractive right to my face. Me. And don’t even get me started on all the rumors I’ve heard about her off-putting behavior. Are you so shameless that you would willingly tie your future to someone like that?”

Rowan’s laughter just gets even louder, and watching Alistair’s face become increasingly red really is the cherry on top.

“Haha… ha.” Rowan wipes the tears from his eyes, still chuckling every now and then. “I’ll admit I hadn’t heard the part about her calling you unattractive. Forgive me for laughing. It’s just too funny. But… she never said anything like that to me, so I suppose I have nothing to worry about. As I said, she agreed to let me court her for a while, and her father seems open to the idea of us getting married in the future.”

“She was just trying to spare your feelings,” Alistair insists. His face feels uncomfortably hot, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. “She… she’ll reject you before long, just take my word for it. She’s volatile and unpredictable. I’m willing to bet she was just trying to appease her family since they must be worried about the engagement falling through. Besides, you’re not even engaged yet, so I’d hardly call this arrangement ironclad.”

Rowan’s smile stretches further across his lips. The man he’s resented damn near his entire life is desperately struggling to defend himself and avoid losing face. He’s grasping at straws and offering whatever excuse he can come up with. He’s embarrassed beyond belief, and it couldn’t be any more obvious.

For the first time… Rowan has something that Alistair doesn’t.

“Show some humility, Alistair.” Rowan stands up from his seat to look down at his cousin with a cold, vengeful expression. “Your engagement is over. [Name] discarded you, and it’s time you came to terms with that. Besides, I’m not sure why you’re trying to debase her when you were originally going to marry her. If her reputation is as horrible as you suggest, then surely, you should have protested against this in the first place. Uncle and auntie would have understood. It’s rather crass for you to insult her after the fact, purely because she wasn’t interested in you. It shows a lack of character, and worst of all, that you think you’re above everyone else.”

Alistair blinks. He’s so dumbfounded he can’t even think of a rebuttal. It feels like he just got slapped across the face.

Rowan smiles again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll forgive your rudeness, on account of the fact that you’re still grieving your failed engagement. But from now on, you need to fix your attitude. [Name] and I are romantically involved, and I intend to make her my wife. I’ll urge you not to soil her name in my presence. I have a bit of a temper, you see.”

Rowan walks off without waiting to hear Alistair’s response, not that he would have known what to say anyways. He watches as the dark-haired man promptly leaves the manor. It seems like he came here purely to gloat, which, considering how much of an asshole he is, doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

All the same, Alistair feels completely and utterly defeated. He can’t recall having ever experienced such a bitter loss. It’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. Honestly…

He fucking hates it.

“Goddamn you, Rowan,” Alistair mutters. He clenches his fist and takes a sharp, shaky breath, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm.

You really chose Rowan over him? So, he doesn’t meet your standards, but somehow, that miserable scumbag does?

Impossible. No. It just can’t be. He refuses to accept it. He refuses to accept any of it.

He doesn't know how he’s going to pull it off, but right then and there, he makes up his mind.

You will take him back.

While Alistair and Rowan were busy comparing dick sizes, you were trying to make strides towards improving your reputation.

“Name tags, my lady?”

Fiona stares at you, visibly perplexed. She usually looks pretty confused when she’s dealing with you, not that you can really blame her, but you think you’ve got a pretty good idea this time around.

“Yes,” you nod happily. “So that I can remember everyone’s names. Oh, it’s not like it’ll be permanent or anything. Once I’ve committed everyone to memory the name tags can be removed, but I just think it would help me remember better. I’d like to address all of the people that work here by name from now on. I’m hoping to connect to them on a personal level, so that they won’t think of me purely as their boss. I want to turn this manor into a comfortable place for all.”

Fiona still looks confused, bless her heart. In the game, the villainess treated everyone like property—especially if they were lower than her in social status. The heroine was the target of a good chunk of her malice, of course, but it seems like commoners got the worst of it, since she probably felt like she could do what she wanted with virtually no repercussions. Which is unfortunately the truth. If you were an absolute scumbag, you could, in theory, bully all these people with zero consequences. The staggering difference in social classes allows for all kinds of unwarranted abuse, which is exactly why you’re hoping to create a whole new status quo.

“I’m ashamed of my past behavior,” you continue, frowning a bit. It feels weird to apologize for something you technically didn’t even do, but in the interest of maintaining appearances, you need to show remorse. “Like I said before, I’m trying to be a better person, and a big part of that is treating everyone with the respect they deserve. Especially the people that work so hard to support me every single day. I’ve noticed they walk on eggshells whenever I’m around, but hopefully they’ll soon realize I’m not that scary.”

Fiona ponders for a few moments, then smiles as she nods her head. “I think it’s a lovely idea, my lady. They’ll appreciate the lengths you’re going to in order to help them feel more comfortable.”

“Well, it’s really not such a big deal. Remembering their names is the least I can do.”

“Considering how many people are under your employ, I’d say that’s not such an easy task. Besides, I hear from servants that work elsewhere that it’s rather common for the lords or ladies of the house not to remember their names. We’re only servants, after all. What we do isn’t all that remarkable.”

She makes a pained face near the end, brushing off her remarks with a weak chuckle. You can’t help but frown, and your heart throbs at the sight of it. It’s horrible that she seems to think of herself and the other servants as expendable. Then again, if they’ve all been mistreated time and time again, it’s not surprising their self-esteem would be so low.

You lean closer and place your hand on Fiona’s head, offering a gentle smile. “That’s not true. All of you work incredibly hard, and it’s your efforts that allow everything to go so smoothly. You keep this place immaculately clean, you repair anything that needs to be fixed, you help cook my meals… and the list goes on and on. You work harder than I can even imagine, and that’s no small feat. Please don’t demean yourself like that. Take pride in a job well done. You deserve it.”

You pat her head, which you’ve learned is something she greatly enjoys—even if she won’t openly admit to it.

Fiona just stares at you, and it doesn’t take long for tears to fill her big doe-shaped eyes.

“Th-Thank you,” she sniffles, trying to wipe her tears before they fall, but to no avail. “I—I really appreciate it. You’re very kind to say that, my lady. So very kind…”

You smile and give her some time to calm down. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for her to regain her spirits, and she proceeds to lift her fist in the air, visibly determined.

“Alright!” she huffs. “I will speak to one of the seamstresses and inform her that we’ll all be needing name tags. I promise we’ll get the job done as quickly as possible. I won’t let you down, Lady [Name]!”

She speeds off before you can say anything else, but it warms your heart to see her opening up to you more and more. Even if you weren’t responsible for the villainess’ wrongdoings, it’s nice to see how positively everyone is reacting to the ‘new’ version of you.

Well, mostly everyone.

“[Name], darling, Flynn is here to see you,” your mother happily announces.

You grimace. Goddammit. For the past few days, you kept using your aforementioned sickness as an excuse to ward off visitors, but there’s only so long you can milk that excuse for, and it seems like he won’t be deterred any longer. He is supposed to be your best friend, after all.

“Have fun,” your mother beams, and she walks off with a spring in her step, heels echoing down the halls. Your parents are both rather fond of you, but she’s been especially chipper ever since she heard Rowan proposed. By now it seems like your parents have completely forgotten the Alistair incident, or they simply don’t care anymore.

Either way, you’ve dealt with almost all of the game’s love interests so far. Alistair is obviously a thing of the past, and since you’re well on the way towards improving your reputation, Carmine likely won’t have any reason to execute you later on.

The only person you just can’t seem to shake is this annoying bastard.

“How are you feeling?” Flynn asks, concern lacing his features. “You look a lot better now, but you’ve never fallen so ill before. I was worried.”

Sorry, dude. The tales of my sickness were greatly exaggerated. I was basically just looking for excuses so I could avoid you.

“I feel fine now,” you say, quickly smiling. “Anyways, I’ve got a lot of… math to do later, so I’m not sure how long you can stay.”

“Math? Ah, yes. Your father was saying you really started applying yourself. He said you were concealing a prodigal aptitude for academics all this time. You sure could have fooled me,” he muses.

You shrug. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.”

Flynn purses his lips, and it looks like he’s resisting the urge to say anything. Even though he’s your so-called ‘best friend’, even he must realize that the villainess wasn’t exactly competent when it came to well, anything.

But he’s well-mannered enough to keep those thoughts to himself.

“Well, I’m just relieved you’re okay,” he smiles. “Oh. I also wanted to ask about your engagement. I heard that you’re apparently not seeing Alistair anymore. When did that happen?”

“A little while ago.”

“Your parents told me that you’re the one who broke it off. Is that true?”

“It is. I don’t know,” you sigh, “I guess I just wasn’t that interested in him. It happens. I’m fortunate enough that my parents haven’t pushed for us to get back together. They’ve given me the freedom to be more picky from now on.”

Flynn knits his brows together. “You weren’t that interested in him…? What about all those times you kept gushing to me about how excited you were for the engagement? You seemed to feel very differently up until not long ago.”

Ugh. This guy is constantly on your ass, pointing out inconsistencies left and right. Like, even your parents didn’t make this big of a fuss after the engagement fell through. Your so-called ‘punishment’ was doing some math problems. Let it go already, man.

“Feelings change,” you shrug. “I was excited at first, but I gradually found my interest waning. I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I think it was for the best, because he didn’t seem to like me very much either. I’m sure we’ll both find a better match eventually.”

Flynn arches a brow. “You mean to say that you no longer feel anything towards him at all?”

“Pretty much.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Uh, nope. Otherwise I wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place.”

“Huh.”

Flynn seems to be having a hard time wrapping his head around all this. Truthfully, you don’t know the finer details of his friendship with the villainess. It’s entirely possible that she bragged about Alistair more times than you can count, which is why your dismissiveness probably seems pretty suspect right now. A good friend knows when something is off, as evidenced by the fact that Flynn’s been on your case since the moment you met.

But… there’s no way he’ll actually figure it out, right? After all, who could ever imagine that their best friend’s been replaced by some total stranger from a completely different world? It’s way too far-fetched. Practically unthinkable.

Yeah. That’s not something I should worry about.

Never in a million years would Flynn be able to figure out what’s happening, and nor will anyone else, for that matter. Your foremost concern right now is figuring out a way to slowly push him out of your life, because the sooner you distance yourself from this guy, the better you’ll feel.

“If you weren’t happy with him, then like you said, it’s probably better this way,” Flynn acknowledges. “I would hate to see you stuck with someone who doesn’t bring you joy. You deserve much better than that. You deserve only the best.”

Well. You’d like to think that you deserve the best, but the previous owner of this body most certainly did not.

It’s actually kind of disturbing that Flynn sides with the villainess so much, in spite of all the fucked up shit she’s done. It says a lot about his morality.

Yet another reason why you don’t want him around.

“I think I should get a head start on my homework,” you blurt, already walking away. It’s incredibly rude to brush him off like this after he dropped by for a visit, but you figure that if you treat him a bit coldly, he might eventually take the hint and leave you alone.

“Alright,” Flynn nods. “I’ll spend some time chatting with your parents. I don’t have any other plans for today, so take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

…people around here really don’t know how to take no for an answer, huh?

You sigh quietly and shake your head. Whatever. It’s going to take some time to completely get rid of him, but you’re confident you can pull it off. Even if he won’t ever hurt you, he’s simply too closely connected with the main plot. You don’t need that kind of stress in your life.

Flynn watches you walk down the hallway, and he also watches as you grin widely and point finger-guns at one of the servants.

“Duncan!” you exclaim. “Working hard as per usual, I see. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!”

The servant awkwardly does finger-guns back before scurrying on his way, and needless to say, Flynn finds the whole scene rather confusing.

Since when do you bother to remember the servants’ names? As far as he can remember, you’ve always just snapped your fingers to demand service, or pointed to someone and said, “Hey, you.”

It’s all so strange. He can’t help but feel that you’ve changed somehow, and rather abruptly, at that. If there’s something special going on in your life, he thinks he deserves to know about it. He’s your best friend, isn’t he? The two of you have always told each other everything. And yet, he didn’t even find out about your broken engagement until well after the fact.

Whatever’s happening to you…

He’s not sure he likes it.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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🗡️ main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

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htchnr · 2 days ago

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ミ★ trains and porch lights ꜜ COOPER HOWARD.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, while Cooper finds a home in them, Lucy'll thinks she'll never understand your odd southern expressions. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, my beloved southern!Reader x Cooper + Lucy dynamic again ⋆ southern nonsense ⋆ poor Lucy feeling left out of the fun ⋆ drinking ⋆ dirty bar ⋆ Cooper's awful teasing ⋆ hint that you and Coop hooked up the previous night ⋆ semi established relationship. ꜜwc,, 0,6k. 」

" my heavens, he's got a face that could make a train take a dirt road. " Lucy hears you mumble under your breath as you sit down beside Cooper. he snorts, almost choking on his saliva.

you set the drinks down on the dirty table, moving each to the right person. " no really, i swear the porch light's on but ain't nobody home. had to repeat myself four times. it ain't even that busy or loud! "

Lucy just blinks as she sips on her drink, confused eyes flitting between you and Cooper. he clearly gets what you're on about, but she doesn't have the faintest idea. " why would.. a train, take a dirt road? " she asks.

Cooper laughs, downing most of his drink in one go. you swallow a generous amount down, raising your brow. " haven't y'seen 'em? " you nod at the guy manning the bar.

Lucy looks past you, eyes landing on the guy. her nose wrinkles up, she's definitely seen.. nicer.. guys to look at. " what about him? "

you snort, taking another large sip. " well, f'you saw 'em on the tracks, wouldn't you wanna take a different road? "

Cooper watches the two of you with an amused look on his scarred face. while he feels at home with your southern remarks, Lucy only grows more confused by the day.

she shrugs, " i don't know? " taking another sip.

you huff, waving her off. Cooper laughs, " don't worry, i get'ya. " as he pats your thigh. " he looks as useless as a milk bucket under a bull. "

you smile wide from behind your glass, downing the remainder. " see, Coop, " you grin, turning to face him. you kick up your boots to lay crossed in his lap. " that's why i could never hate you. "

Lucy watches the interaction, Cooper's gloved hand stroking up your calve. he tilts his head, hat tipping, as he nods. " 'think i saw a bulletin board back over there, " Cooper nods to the back of the bar. " we should go see f'they've got any heads for us to gather. "

you nod, swinging your legs off his lap before you move to stand up. Lucy finishes her drink, standing up along with you and Cooper.

you stretch your arms, then your back. " i say we find us a decent hotel for the night, " you grunt, hands supporting your lower back as you make your way to the board. " cause after that stiff floor last night, my body needs a damn mattress. "

Cooper snickers beside you, his gloved hand briefly smoothing over the back of your shoulders. " y'didn't sound like you were complainin' much last night, " he squeezes the base of your neck slightly before moving past you to the board.

Lucy's eyes widen at the comment, her cheeks flushing slightly. " Cooper, you asshole! wait till i get you on your back, then we'll see who's complainin' next! " you jog after him, Lucy opting to stay a little behind in hopes of dodging the rest of your clearly private conversation.

" now darlin', don't threaten me with a good time. " is the last comment she can make out, as she watches you smack his hat off his head and place it on yours. and unsurprisingly, Lucy doesn't spot a single dagger being shot your way, only that filthy smirk on his thinned lips that's only ever there for you.

y'all i missed writing for Cooper so much 🥲🫠 i love this dynamic way too much, it's by far my favorite that i've written 😭🩷

please send me some requests if you've got the time! i'd love to write some short things for this cheeky Ghoul again 🫠

taglist,, @live-logs-and-proper @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @anonymous-creep @iceviolet11 @https-junebug @silverose365 @athanza @songbirdemerald-blog @justt-myth @looneylooomis @v3lv3tf0x @keyofgigi @problem-possum

#⋆୨🩷©2025 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️cooper howard #🫧southern!reader x cooper + lucy #cooper howard x fem!reader #cooper howard oneshot #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul oneshot #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #walton goggins #walton ghoulgins

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biowaredisasterbisexual · 11 hours ago

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And a continuation with Fluff 4, because these are fun and I cannot help myself. Also just for fun! And also likely to follow the earlier prompt and one day evolve into something for the multichapter mess that haunts me.

Fluff 4. Character A and Character B go dancing.

Rook was trying very hard not to keep looking over at Neve as nonchalantly made his way through the main hall of the Imperator’s house. He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, just a goal: to figure out what the cultists were up to.

So he and Neve had split up - which felt, honestly, kind of unfair after having already spent an entire week apart, but he guessed he could only complain so much - and were mingling. Something he suspected she hated far more than he did.

And something that would be even easier if he could possibly stop trying to, however unconsciously, find her with his eyes.

It wasn’t his fault. Neve in a formal robe was something he’d committed to memory the moment she’d changed clothes. He was only human.

He’d made idle conversation with several bureaucrats, clearly all hoping to get on the Imperator’s good side based on how they fawned over the man, and now was overdue for a drink. Both for camouflage and because something had to liven this party up, and so long as they were split up it tragically wouldn’t be Neve.

“I told you not to cause trouble in my city,” a low and angry voice said, just behind his ear over by the bar. Rook accepted his drink and smiled amiably at the Legate.

“Who’s causing trouble? I’m just here to have a good time and partake in libations way fancier than I normally get to.”

Well, okay, it wasn’t entirely true. He was friends with Lucanis, after all. But the Legate didn’t need to know that.

The older man glared at him, and Rook grinned. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“With all this scenery to take in?” Rook gestured at the ‘distinguished guests’ around the room. “Seems like a waste.”

He smiled sweetly and took a sip of the expensive whiskey he held.

The Legate stomped away, and Rook silently gave himself another point towards victory.

“It can’t be!” Faster than Rook would have guessed, he was being tugged around by a thin woman with a pinched face, dressed in a silken garment that even he knew wasn’t cheap.

“Iulia,” he recognized. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since your wedding to my cousin. How are you?”

“All the better now that you’re here!”

He looked at her in confusion. He couldn’t figure out how him being there would in anyway improve her night in the least. His eldest cousin, Octavian, had never been Rook’s biggest fan - and he couldn’t imagine that had changed after all these years - it wasn’t like he and Octavian’s wife had ever been close.

“Thanks, it’s…good to see you too.” He took another sip of his drink. “I hope you have a-“

She grabbed his free hand with surprising strength for a woman so small, and began dragging him towards the center of the room.

“Oh, but we can’t part ways without at least one dance!”

This was weird. Very weird. And after watching Harding become a conduit of titan magic, an elven god’s face speak to them from the clouds, and smug, sad cat of a powerful mage bound to the veil separating the normal world from the Fade, Rook knew weird.

He hadn’t even danced with Iulia at her wedding, when he and his family had been on good terms. He couldn’t imagine why it would ever be necessary now.

But causing a scene - well, right now anyway, later might be different - wasn’t going to help him or Neve collect information. So Rook set his drink down as they reached the floor and let himself be pulled on to it for what would probably be the second or third most awkward dance of his life.

“Oh, you can hold me closer than that!” Her feigned laugher was grating, and Rook steered his hands back to the proper position even as she tried to tug them down. “We’re family.”

“I doubt your husband would appreciate that, cousin,” he replied, his brain finally piecing together what was happening here.

She wanted to either piss Octavian off or make him jealous. And, not that Rook had incredibly fond feelings for her older cousin, he didn’t really want to participate.

Years of formal education let him put his footwork to the back of his mind, muscle memory taking over, and allowing him to focus on how to get out of this as quickly as possible and keeping his hands in the standard position. Despite Iulia’s best efforts.

Neve’s distinctive gait behind him was a welcome relief, and he grinned as he felt her tap his shoulder. “I’m afraid I have to cut in.”

He immediately let go of Iulia, and thanked a Maker he hardly believed in for the fact it now wasn’t a slight. “Neve,” Rook said, hoping his smile conveyed the mountain-sized amount of gratitude he felt. “Of course.”

He turned to his cousin’s wife and offered an apologetic shrug. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. You’ve been very interesting company.”

He could almost feel Neve hiding a smirk. Iulia glared at them both and all but stomped away.

“So,” Rook held out his arms. “Shall we?”

Neve’s expression faltered, just for a moment, as she stepped closer and Rook placed a far less careful hand on her waist and took her hand. “I haven’t done this since the Circle, Trouble.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised, and he felt like he’d won a prize as she smiled. Whether due to a year of fighting together, months of extracurricular activities together, or just natural chemistry, they moved together easily as Neve followed his lead.

Rook couldn’t say he’d ever thought much about formal dancing with Neve Gallus. But after tonight, it might be all he could think about for awhile.

Writing Challenge Wednesday:

Yay Wednesday! Let's write! (Btw if you sent a Rook Storytime Ask I'm still working my way through them thank you for being patient, they're actually really helping me flesh out my next story and they're a ton of fun. ) As always on these there is no time limit, tag or link or dm or reblog or comment under this post! No word count either just have fun with it that's what it's here for. I don't have standards for submission take or leave what you want, link your Ao3's, and it's all tagged writing challenge on my page! As long as it gets you writing I don't care and I will share. Let me show you off!!!

Okay I did a really fun self-imposed challenge where I turned fluffy head canons into angst cause I can turn anything into angst if you give me long enough ;) I thought it'd be fun to play with that today so I'm going to give you some fluffy head canons and some angsty head canons and I want you to flip the script and take the mood from fluff to angst or angst to fluff. (Please do platonic relationships as well as romantic if you're so inclined I'm into that)

Fluff:

Character A gives Character B a present.

Character A helps character B with their hair/makeup/outfit.

Character A and Character B want to teach Character C a skill.

Character A and Character B go dancing.

Characters A, B, and C are druuuuuuuuunk.

Angst:

Characters A and B have to go to a funeral together.

Character C has tragically gone missing and A and B have to cope.

Character A has lost someone close to them and can't stop crying. Character B and if you want Character C notices as well.

Character A has lost an important item to them or it was destroyed.

Character A and Character B are fighting for real. Real emotional or physical or both. Perhaps Character C intervenes or they work it out themselves.

Have at it and I will post mine later!!!!!

#writing challenge wednesday #Neverook #Neve x rook #rook x Neve #basically wrote this stream of consciousness so there’s that #I know it’s rough #probably going somewhere in the multichapter fic that haunts me #disaster rook universe #long post #my writing process is just three raccoons in a trenchcoat

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seaweedstarshine · 8 months ago

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RIP Krakoa 🌹 I can’t lie I’ve been kinda behind since midway through Fall of X I’m gonna catch up before my first SDCC this summer but I hear Vulcan didn’t see much action anyway. Anyway my hand slipped and I found myself looking into the eyes of my canonically psychotic son the best Summers brother who’s never done anything wrong in his entire life, (he’s done lotsa wrong things but I love him more for it)

#canonically psychotic = he canonically has psychosis. (not in the ableist way in that hes evil. which he is. lemme enjoy problematic rep)#Gabriel Summers #art by seaweed #words by seaweed #X-Men Red #the Gabriel hate during the Krakoa era pffffft. was 100% from ppl who didnt read the Rise and Fall of the Shi'ar Empire #“he attacked Storm” hes also a genocidal dictator who tortures ppl for catharsis. drunkenly coming at Ororo is the least bad thing he did #“he's a douche” mother of all understatements. now get this man back w his boyfriend who he forced to be his best man under pain of death #Gabriel fans LOVE that Ororo beat his ass. he deserved it. it was a fake discourse made up by a certain segment of goddess!Ororo fans #I say as an Ororo fan! Shes my fav A-list x-man🥰 yes Gabe was at a mental low but Ororo didnt know that. that was Scott's responsibility.#psychotic Emperor Vulcan is what we call a problematic mentally ill villain trope. I love him SO much. (okay lets talk)#we don’t know much about his childhood but we do know he spent 2 years in a fugue state after escaping slavers when he was like ten ):#as an “adult”-ish he's uh “mentally” 15 or sumn according to the calculations claimed to him by his hallucination of his actual child self #and apart from THOSE hallucinations. he’s very paranoid to the point of killing his advisors because he becomes convinced-#that they’re plotting to kill him. they aren't. he relies on Calseye to ground him thru his paranoia. and then of course in the Krakoa era #he believes his energy constructs of Petra and Sway who drink with him till he blacks out every single day are real. he isnt consciously #creating them; but he sees them- and bc he’s a godlike mutant his subconscious makes his hallucinations visible. making everyone uncomfy #Charles tries to use telepathy to FORCIBLY reality check him. which of course triggers his trauma. and GABE is punished for it?#(oh plus our finding out Gabe got brain surgery done on him by some gods outside the universe offpanel. he never does well with tampering)#and now the writers who pushed Hickman out (also RIP Sabretooth & the Exiles. RIP Hellions) want us to be SAD Krakoa is gone?#yes Gabriel is the mentally ill villain trope. but Krakoa never cared for mutants who couldn’t fit in. who were traumatized. disabled. etc #Alex OF ALL PEOPLE should understand that. ALEX should’ve been there for Gabriel. (why wasn't he. did he hold a grudge for past torture.)#Alex also w Murder-Enjoying Disorder but it was actually treated as an illness and those in authority presented as wrong for excluding him #instead of helping him. which v flawed but Hellions was one of the best mental illness comics? like Zeb Wells was conscious of the genre #but Gabriel was just… cast out. for panicking when his prime traumatizer Charles invaded his mind. he deserved help too #and all because his family were annoyed at him for drinking all night and throwing up and passing out on the floor? for being delusional?#And like- all of the summers brothers are nd (Scott's brain damage; Alex's dissociative episodes; Gabriel's psychosis)#I have nothing to say about Adam X ((I highly doubt he's neurotypical and/or mentally healthy)) ((nothing to say abt him tho))#and Gabes paranoia is 100% rooted in his issues of being made to feel like an outsider. like YES the obvious MUTANT identity but also #he thinks his father abandoned him to be a slave. he's not Summers enough for Scott. hes not Shi'ar enough for the Shi'ar

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here-there-were-dragons · 2 months ago

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my mother is absolutely convinced of some nonsense conspiracy theory that (in her words) "originally humanity lived in peaceful all-woman societies of goddess worshippers who took care of eachother and lived in harmony, while males were roving loners that had no society and never cooperated. that changed when the men banded together and overthrew the peaceful woman-dominated societies, and enslaved us all." and, according to her, this is proof that a woman-dominated world would be innately more peaceful, and that men are innately violent and evil and should be either barred from holding any legal power or leadership roles or at least should be (again in her words) "gelded like bulls" to remove their testosterone before even being considered for such a thing.

she also evidently believes that the problem with all religions today is primarily that they aren't "goddess worshippers", because she seems to think goddess religions are inherently peaceful and pure too and seems to be especially obsessed with "Isis" in particular. the very very few times she's openly considered it unambiguously bad for some population or another to have been exterminated (she's got a bad case of devil's advocating genocide brain), she's gone out of her way to make up some crap about how said people were a peaceful society of goddess-worshippers, almost always of isis. delusions of isis-worship seem to be the only thing that ever causes her to consider any arab or middle-eastern culture, society, or ethnicity to be relatively uncomplicatedly undeserving of extermination, in fact, because every fucking time she doesn't immediately start devils-advocating it and making remarks about how "the rest of the world should box them in and let them blow eachother up" it's when she's whinging on about how whatever specific micro-ethnicity she's thinking about are or were traditional persecuted isis-worshippers.

the sole major exception to her weird fixation on isis worship justifying worthiness of life is the whole israel thing going on, in which she has consistently made very obvious that literally the only reason she's against the genocide of palestine is because it gives her an excuse to even more openly hate jewish people than she already did. and honestly i'm not sure even that's true because i think she's made some offhand remarks about palestinians having probably been peaceful isis worshipers before the jews infected them with christianity or something anyway.

so for the last, however fucking long it's been i've been constantly having to listen to her go off about how this behavior is in the jew's blood or whatever and that they literally invented all genocide because somehow the concept didn't exist before them and wouldn't have ever been invented by the rest of humanity without those jewish aliens dropping it in i fucking guess apparently and she furthermore goes on about how every single genocide and mass-oppression movement in history is directly inspired by them, ESPECIALLY the nazis, and THEN i have to listen to her rant about how, basically, wwii was something they entirely brought on themselves by "dominating the economy and treating everyone not them like shit" and the nazis were just "using their own tactics back at them". and then she goes on a rant about how the people the original jews exterminated back in the day (aka the first ever genocide, which they invented, because jews invented genocide and hate according to her) in the middle east region were peaceful matriarchal isis-worshipers.

and then she starts making comments about arabs being backwards and palestinians either being mysogynist muslims that should be boxed in to blow eachother up with everyone else or secret peaceful isis worshippers corrupted by men's cruel hand, sometimes in the same sentence, entirely dependent on which group she's more in the mood to hate at the time.

it's exhausting. beyond exhausting. her sole purpose in existence seems to be to have the singularly most exhausting set of politics physically possible to fit into one person.

just, sometimes i think, if there really is anything at all to the incredibly stupid and inexplicably popular idea that anyone or anything has a Purpose tm to exist for, i feel like my mother's purpose is to be walking proof to me of a Type Of Guy That Is Real, cause i sure as fuck would have trouble inventing this mess if it wasn't standing right in front of me spewing confusingly bipartisan hate. all of her thoughts and opinions are these long winding nonsense chains that feel like if that man carrying thing sketch about the friend with confusing politics was a person. on meth.

#and sometimes i feel like she just believes whatever will allow her to hate and feel innately superior to the most people #the fact that this woman considers herself a leftist #... well. given what this country just voted for it looks unfortunately likely that she IS in fact a fairly average example of a leftist #and therefore i have zero remaining hope for or particular desire to save humanity #actually it kind of feels like the only reason she really aligns herself with “the left” is because she's a female supremacist #and the left is the closest thing to a movement in that direction compared to the only current alternate party's “lets undo women's rights”#and also she inexplicably hates trump despite constantly devils-advocating for him and how he “has some good ideas”#and yes she does specifically mean about immigrants and the wall. one of her staunchest positions is pro-closed borders #honesty if trump was a woman and not a misogynist sex pest i think she would like him a lot. even despite his blatant ignorance of economic #she's also a big “anti-wokeist” type and we can barely watch any movies anymore without her whining about there being black people in them #and then she's like “PEOPLE ONLY DON'T WANT TO WATCH MOVIES WITH ME BECAUSE MY THEORIES ARE ALWAYS RIGHT AND THEY'RE JEALOUS OF HOW SMART”#she's nominally anti-corporation but in practice tends to come down on their side and is also staunchly against student loan forgiveness #because she thinks that “anyone who's stupid enough to do that deserves it”#and “it would be a slap in the face to ME and everyone else that had to pay”#and “kids these days don't want to develop healthy financial habits so they can SAVE for things. i SAVED for it and i know how HARD it is”#the way she often talks i also increasingly feel like the only actual reason she hates christianity is because she's a female supremacist #especially since she regularly goes on about biblical things as if they're real and complains that god either must be a woman #because “only women can create”#or that god CLEARLY is a man because he's destructive and evil and Destruction is a Man Thing That All Men And Only Men Innately Do #and likes to talk about how “jesus said he would come back as the least of us so he would be a woman”#and then goes on to describe a woman that sounds suspiciously like her. or at least her perception of herself #she's also said that if she wasn't straight she would be a political lesbian by choice because she hates men so much #and has tried repeatedly to bitch at me about men in an “eyyy amirite sister” kind of way #and got mad when i didn't fancy the idea of sitting there joking with her about half the species being barely-sentient cancer nodes #but she ALSO identifies as sapiosexual despite having the most vanilla housewife smut book taste ever #but ALSO she considers every single other sexuality aside from straight and gay to be made up woke mental illness nonsense!#so according to her the only orientations are “normal”. gay. and sapiosexual. and SOMETIMES bi (but no pan or poly).#i'm fairly sure she's convinced asexuality isn't real and is just repression. she certainly acts like i never said anything every time.#unless she's explosively yelling at me for “always bringing it up” when i tell her to stop making jokes about me being attracted to things #and she thinks anything other than monogamy is “selfish” and “exists only for men to abuse women”. especially muslim and arab men.

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