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drgnflyteabox · 4 months ago

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something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

#please forgive my phonetic spelling of soaps Scottish accent its so hard for me lmfao #no pics just vibes #finished my microecon homework so this is a treat ehehe #soap cod #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #cod soap #john mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months ago

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Veni, Vidi, Vici | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: Things finally come to a head following the last of Michael's exams | Word Count: 3.2k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, virginity loss, somewhat tipsy sex

Part One : Quid Pro Quo Part Two : Carpe Diem

A:N: let's just ignore the fact this has been in my drafts since December 😘 And yes, I didn't come the first time either, it happens okkkk. Sorry if this is all over the place, I wrote half of it like four months ago and the other half last week soo

Every single time she saw his username pop up on her computer, an involuntary smile spread across her face, and warmth pooled in her belly with the memory of that evening still fresh in her mind. She isn’t quite sure what she enjoys remembering more, his flushed cheeks and glasses askew or the way he was trying to adjust his cargo trousers to somewhat hide his erection by the end of their second tryst.

After that short interaction though, she was surprised at his restraint, if not a bit impressed. She’d at least managed to avoid the irresistible pull of his company in time to finish the last of her exams. And as for Michael, were it not for the odd text message or the ‘active’ icon next to his username in MSN, she would have thought he dropped off the face of the planet.

Part of her can imagine him now, bent over his desk, twirling a pencil between his fingers, mind working like freshly-oiled cogs and pushing his glasses up his nose. Completely concentrated. And yet, he was still on his computer, with the application open, as if to test his own restraint.

And to be fair to him, he never cracked, not once. For the entire time since their last meeting and now, he never messaged.

With her own exams out of her way, she spent most of her time with Priya (albeit at the pub, with glasses of wine emptied as well as the details of every meeting she’d had with Michael Gavey).

“Oh my god, as if you are into nerdy little white boys!” she laughed with a cigarette perched between her two fingers and proclaimed far too loudly so that the entire pub heard.

“Shut u-” she retorted with a slap to her arm, “besides, not so little, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s like I hardly know you. I love it.”

“Stop it,” she retorts, sitting back in her chair with a flush to her face, “he's genuinely nice.”

“That's not what I heard,” Priya snorts, “I hear he had a hissy fit on like the first day ‘cos someone wouldn't ask him a sum.”

“He's very passionate.”

“Hm,” she widened her eyes, “let’s hope it translates.”

She presses her lips together to keep herself from smiling. Watching Priya’s mind tick will never get old.

“Oh my fucking god, is he a v-”

“Yes, Priya!”

She gasps in mock surprise, “you absolute gremlin. So you've not…?”

“Not yet,” she replies with a shake of her head, “told him we could after he's done his exams.”

“And you're making him wait for it? I had no idea you were so cruel.”

She shrugs, biting back a smile as her eyes drop to the table. Excitement bubbling in her belly.

Priya leans in, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "So, spill it then. What's the plan for the big night?"

She chuckles nervously, swirling the remnants of her wine in her glass. "I don't know, Priya. I've never been in this position before. It's like uncharted territory."

Priya's eyes widen with exaggerated shock. “My queen of confidence, feeling nervous? This I have to see."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a playful glint in them. "Oh, shut up. It's different when it's someone you actually like."

Priya nods understandingly, but then her expression turns mischievous. "Well, just remember to relax and enjoy yourself. And if all else fails, there's always wine."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Thanks, Priya. I appreciate the pep talk."

Priya grins, raising her glass. "To new adventures and nerdy white boys!"

As they continue chatting, her phone buzzes with a new message. She glances down at the screen, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. Priya notices her reaction and nudges her playfully. "Ooh, speak of the devil?"

She nods, trying to suppress her smile as she reads the message. "Yeah, he's just about to go in for his exam."

Priya winks suggestively. "Maybe he's hoping for a sneak preview of what's to come? You know, for luck.”

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes, typing off a quick reply of good luck, “remind me to never tell you personal shit ever again.”

“Mate, it's the suit. You're gonna see him in it and jump his di-”

“Priya!”

“What?!”

She should have known better really that wine tends to have this loosening effect on Priya. And she'd barely finished her own glass before it was time to hop off and meet Michael after his very last exam. It was the perfect day for it, with the sun blaring, everyone was in a good mood, with an electrifying and exciting atmosphere light in the breeze.

As she waited with the other groups of friends waiting to cheer on the examinees, she felt that pleasant roll of nerves in her stomach, biting her lip to contain her smile.

She thought that with some level of embarrassment, she was really really falling for this guy. Or this ‘nerdy, white boy’ as Priya so eloquently put it.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling when she saw his lanky, suit clad form saunter out of the exam hall. Her chest ached pleasantly when he hopefully scanned the crowd, watching others join their friends in celebration. And for a moment, she thought she detected the slightest hint of fomo.

But nothing compared to when he finally spotted her.

Though Michael tried to hide it, a thin lipped smile spread across his face, fiddling with the cap he held in his palms, looking down as if to hide his expression.

Her hands found the front of his suit, affectionately running over the material, “Hey. You look nice.”

He nearly rolled his eyes, “can't wait to get out of it. Too hot for this.”

The excited squealing and shouting stole both of their attention for a moment, particularly Michael's. He glanced sideways at the Felix Catton, with his newest toy, smiling and laughing without a care in the world.

She furrowed her brows, patting his chest, “who's that?”

Michael blinked behind his glasses, throat bobbing as he remained quiet for a moment, “No-one. Come on, let's go.”

As they settled by the tranquil riverbank, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop, they both relaxed into the moment. The weight of the exam stress began to lift, replaced by the lightness of shared laughter and companionship.

Sitting side by side, their feet dangling over the edge, they clinked their bottles together in a silent toast before taking refreshing sips. The sun cast a warm glow over them, painting the scene with hues of gold and amber.

Leaning back on their hands, they watched as birds soared overhead, their graceful movements adding to the serenity of the afternoon. Occasionally, a playful breeze would ruffle their hair, prompting soft chuckles and playful swats.

“So, have you decided yet?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, “what?”

He fiddled with his tie that he'd long taken off in somewhat of a nervous gesture, “it’s been 142 minutes.”

She furrowed her brows, trying not to look amused, “since what?”

He chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. “You said you'd consider being my girlfriend after exams.”

Her smile widened, a fondness evident in her gaze. “Oh, that? Well, I guess it's been 142 minutes too long then, hasn't it?”

She could see the way he was trying not to look too relieved. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. “But only if you promise to stop counting the minutes.”

He cocked his head, a breathy laugh falling from between his lips, a faint flush rising to his cheeks at the brief moment of contact. “No can do.”

She hummed a laugh, the lightness of the situation making her stomach flip, “Are the Carol Vorderman posters non-negotiable too?”

He threw his head up to the sky, “Fucking christ, I don’t have-”

“I know! I know!”

Had Michael seen himself months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined it, walking back to his dorm with a half-empty stomach and the alcohol to replace it with a tipsy waddle, and a girl’s hand closed in his, swinging at their sides.

Whereas campus was usually rife with busy students, toing and froing between the library, lectures and their dorms, today was calm, clear. And it felt as if for once, Michael could loosen the reins on the anticipation that had been building in preparation for his exams, and relax into the soothing company she offered.

She laughed as he tripped over the threshold to his room, the tiniest drop of fruity cider still at the bottom of her bottle. Michael flushed and immediately went to unbutton his shirt, looking somewhat apprehensive.

“Leave it on, if you want,” she smiled coyly, watching the way a blush crept up his neck, his wide blue eyes beneath the frames of his glasses all shy with anticipation.

“...you sure?”

She nodded immediately, trying to calm his nerves. Though she could hardly blame him, she'd felt the same flutters in her belly when it was her first time. She was sure he was no different.

“Course, looks good on you anyway,” she mused, her fingers gently swatting his hand away playfully to undo only the top few buttons. Michael shivered at her touch there, sending waves of pleasurable nerves through his body.

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in, and as she set her bottle down on the desk, she couldn't help but lean in to press one, two, tipsy kisses to his neck. If she could see his face, his eyes had long since slipped shut, lips parted as if not knowing what on earth to say.

“I've…never done this before.”

“It's okay,” she whispered, breath hot on his skin, “I'll look after you.”

The cheeky smile she gave him made his heart almost stop dead in his chest. But his confession, and her calm receiving of it, seemed to bridge the gap between them, and when she turned her head to look at him, he captured the surprised gasp between his lips, and worked up the courage he'd built the last two trysts of intimacy into this one tender moment.

It was gentle at first, hesitant. But as their mutual desire overcame their initial shyness, it deepened in no time.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, careful fingers threading up over his nap to the sandy, blonde hair that had formed a subtle wave from the humidity. His own hands settled on her waist, pulling their bodies flush. And the softness of her lips and the anticipation of his hands drifting lower to the hem of her dress, had his stomach doing backflips.

They moved to the bed by sheer instinct, their kisses growing more urgent as she gently pushed him down and straddled his lap, all while his hands roamed her back, waist and lower towards her thighs, exploring the contours and curves of her body above him.

She pulled back slightly, her own face flushed from heat, feeling his hardness already between her legs where she was placed on top of him, “trust me, okay?”

Michael nodded, the bob of his throat betraying how nervous he was, “I do...”

She smiled, her own confidence calming his nerves, and guided his hands to the straps of her dress, showing without words that there was nothing beneath it. Michael himself let out a strained whimper when her hand crept up his thigh, and massaged his erection through his suit trousers, squeezing up his shaft to the sensitive tip.

“We can do it like this, if you prefer..” she whispered, wanting to do things the way he wanted for his first time.

He nodded, looking up at her with an expression that said everything, relief, “yeah, please..”

Her hands were tender and slow, undoing the heavy buckle of his belt and popping the button, each movement making the air feel hot in his chest. And emboldened by their intimacy, his own hands slid up her thighs, rolling the hem of her dress up to her hips, sighing against her lips and smirking when she whined at his grip.

“Fuck-”

It was her turn to grin when she finally wrapped her hand around him, pulling him from the confines of his boxers and teasing him with her touch. His eyes dared to look between them, at her slender fingers around his cock, drawing both delicious pleasure and sending sparks up his spine.

Her hips lowered, to grind herself on his length, and Michael nearly lost it there and then, even thinking about being inside her. To be honest, it was part of the reason he wanted to stay clothed, because he'd finish too quickly if he saw her completely naked.

“You okay?” She asked with a pleased smile, knowing her answer without needing an answer.

“Y-yeah…do I need…”

“It's up to you,” she reassured, “I'm clean, and I'm on the pill so…”

He nodded, secretly a little mortified at the idea of having his first time without protection on his part. It had always been drilled into him that, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, but the knowledge that she was careful, made him feel better about it.

“Do you want me like this?” She asked quietly, her lips at his jaw, pressing tiny gentle kisses, “me on top.”

“Yeah, yeah…”, Michael nodded quickly, his hands tightening at her hips. In truth he just wanted to do it, too wound tight and excited to care about the position.

She shuffled closer, trailing her lips down his neck as she pulled her underwear to one side. Truthfully the alcohol, as little as it was, had made her a bit needy for him the second he walked out of the exam hall. And being his first time, it was probably just as well he didn't feel the need to prepare her, assuming it'd be overwhelming for him.

Slowly she lowered herself onto him, the initial stretch stealing the air from her lungs for a moment. She could feel his breath come in ragged gasps. His grip tighten. And as soon as she felt him tense, she stopped and let him decide when he wanted to continue.

She was so warm and tight around him, Michael couldn't help at first but think it was uncomfortable. But once he took a breath, he could feel her silky walls envelop him, closing in with a desperate hold. It was hard to stay still. And that initial discomfort ebbed into relaxation.

She was about to ask if he was okay, but she let out a strained moan, as his hands pushed her hips down to meet his as he pushed up, pulling her on top of him so that she was flush to his body.

Her hands held him tight, he felt utterly different inside her than she had imagined. The stretch of him was a pleasurable pain at first, but once she'd relaxed and adjusted around him, after months of no sex, she felt herself grind on him slightly.

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

She smiled at that, leaning up to face him, “you okay?..”

“God, yeah, very okay-” he manages.

“Do you want me to-”

“Can I…” he asks, “please.”

“Y-yeah-”

His hand slipped behind her neck, tugging her lips down to his, while the other slid down her back, pushing her down on him to meet him halfway with every tentative thrust into her. From this position, with her chest nearly flush to his, her breasts rippling over the top of her dress rhythmically, she could feel him deeper. And the sensation had her unable to form any coherent thought.

She knew he wouldn't last long. Judging by the way he was moaning lowly against her lips and how his hips stuttered as they moved.

She also didn't expect any kind of orgasm from the experience, fully wanting it to just be comfortable for Michael and nothing else. But when he pulls her down, his hands snaking around her waist tightly, and the cooling sensation on his glasses against her shoulder as he buries his head there, she finds that, whether he intended to or not, he brushes against her sweet spot.

Michael groans as she tightens around him slightly, each push inside of her fuels the numb, simmering sparks of an orgasm, slowly building, and she is powerless to stop it.

“Fffuck-”

And yet she can feel him losing momentum. He's worn himself out too early she can tell. So pushing herself off his chest, she sits up on top of him and does the work herself. Her thighs burn and she feels a bit self conscious being in full view like this, but it feels too good for her to care. She grinds her hips down on his length, looking down at Michael and watching his appreciative expression, his glasses skewed slightly.

His jaw goes slack at the renewed pace, and his hands remain on her waist as he throws his head back, brows furrowed, the tell tale sign he's nearly there. So concentrated on moving on top of him, she knows she won't come, but it still feels nice nonetheless.

And as she pushes her hips backwards and forwards on him, nudging her sweet spot more forcefully, she cries out, causing Michael to look down between them and watch the way he disappears inside of her, moist bodies slapping together.

“Oh fuck, fuck, I'm-”

Michael would be ashamed to say how much he's touched himself to the thought of that first night with her, when she knelt between his legs in the common room. Of course, it felt good. But finishing inside her, with her smooth, velvety walls sucking him in, fluttering around him, feels so entirely different. It's like being on another planet.

His hips give a few final mini thrusts up into her, before he stills, riding out his high and letting himself descend from heaven. He is only brought back, when she leans down to kiss his neck, trailing up to his jaw.

“You okay?...” She asks, her voice ragged and quiet.

Michael swallows through breaths he sucks in, “yeah…” he answers simply, glancing up at her and smiling through foggy lenses. “You?”

She laughs breathily, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest, “More than okay.”

“Even though you didn't…?”

“Don't worry about me. Tonight was for you,” she smiles, sliding off him to his side, and pulling her dress down slightly. “You did great, you know.”

He chuckles, tucking himself away, slinging an arm around her, “guess all that practice watching Countdown paid off.”

She snorts a laugh at that, the atmosphere lifting, “yeah, remind me to send Carol Vordermann an official thank you.”

Michael grins, feeling more relaxed now. "You think she'd respond? Maybe send me an autograph for my wall?"

She laughs, nudging him playfully. "Oh, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know she had such a positive impact on your life.” she smiles at him, tucking herself beneath the covers, “anyway stop talking about other women around me, I get jealous.”

“Sor-ry,” he smirks. Michael's grin widens as he pretends to ponder deeply. "Well, as long as you're teaching, maybe you could help me with all the different positions... in grammar, of course."

She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as he rolls on top of her, her legs parting instinctually. "Oh, absolutely, but I must warn you, I'm very thorough."

Michael replies, voice low and warm, his hand stealing between them both to slide his fingers between her thighs. “Good thing I'm a quick learner then.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanficiton #michael gavey fic #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey x female #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #saltburn 2023

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if-whats-new · 5 days ago

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What's New In IF? Issue 2 (2025)

By Bex, Dion, Briar and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

It’s time for a revival!

As you might have noticed, our Column section has been dead for a while. We feel like it’s time to do something about that!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

Send us a message and we will be happy to feature it in our future Issues!

There’s power in numbers!

Are you an IF fan and would like a way to give back to the community? We’re once again looking for new members of our Team!

Do you enjoy keeping up with updates and finding new gems? Maybe you even enjoy working with Google Sheets?

Then our Tracker of News position is made just for you!

BEX, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

~ ANNOUNCEMENTS ~

Most importantly:

WNiIF? is switching to a bi-weekly schedule!

Keeping up with news and releasing a new Issue every week is exhausting. We have decided to change it up a bit, hopefully preventing a possible burnout. We also hope that this will give us more time to make every Issue a bit better.

We thank you for your understanding.

What else?

Our X/Twitter account is no longer active. Please check out our other social media to keep an eye on releases and news.

We plan on releasing a special What’s 2024 in IF? Issue summing up all Issues that came out last year. This will include New Releases, Event Highlights, Columns, Game Highlights and more, making it easier for new readers to check out the Zine. The date of release is not set yet, but hopefully soon!

More exciting stuff is to be unveiled in the upcoming Issues!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : Queer Vampire Game Jam 2025 ~

🦇 🥀 🕯 🪦 🩸

Queer Vampire Game Jam is a month-long interactive fiction game jam hosted by kit, nyehilism, that will run from January 10 - February 20th, 2025. The goal of this jam is to create more interactive fiction games about queer vampires, focusing both on queer relationships and queer experiences as told through a vampiric narrative.

Last year’s edition had over 50 amazing submissions. Give them a look too!

~ ENDED ~

The Queer Winter Game Jam is in full swing. Those interested can submit their work until January 16th 2025.

~ VOTING ~

Feeling nostalgic about the golden age of text adventures? Relive those days by participating in PunyComp 2024!

IF Short Games Showcase 2024 is a great way to shine some new light on projects made in the past year (Jan 1, 2024 to Dec 31, 2024). You now have until January 25th 2025 to vote.

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Media depicting healthy examples of polyamory isn’t that common. The PolyJamorous 2024 is trying to break the status-quo!

ShuffleComp is a musical interactive fiction competition where you make games based on songs, which are submitted by other entrants. Creators have until January 20th 2025 to upload their works.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

SeedComp! is a 2-round interactive fiction game jam, focusing on creativity and the growth of ideas and the Sprouting Round has just started! Check out the Planting round for inspiration.

BL stands for Boys' Love, a genre that focuses on romantic and emotional relationships between male characters. The Ultimate BL Visual Novel Game Jam is all about that!

Are you a fan of Vampires? Then lucky for you, because the Queer Vampire Game Jam is back!

Sealed With A Kiss Jam 2025 is a fantastical romance jam for all VN lovers!

The eighth annual Ace Jam is a game jam about creating games with asexual spectrum characters.

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Joyride To Hell (Ren’Py) After weeks of not hearing from your girlfriend she called you panicked, wanting to meet up with you. You want nothing more to do with her. But as they say, forgiveness is a virtue.

The Shadow Over Cyberspace (Ren’Py) From the same creators of Arcade Spirits. Time is running out, barter with gods, embrace the deathless aeons, or go offline permanently.

Full moon. Cold night. Dark shadow. Warm gun. The Beast of Glenkildove has stalked Ireland for centuries. Now, you must hunt it in Hunter: The Reckoning — The Beast of Glenkildove (CScript).

In Five Candles in the Meadow (Twine) even in the far flung future, penpals still exist. With a sea of stars between them, two young adults keep correspondence as best they can, with lone data relays acting as their heavenly messengers. @windsoflimbo

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

After Mina Murray is reunited with her childhood friends Jonathan and Lucy Harker, they are all invited on a cruise to Transylvania with a mysterious man named Count Dracula. - Syndromedia's Dracula (Ren’Py)

Rite of Decay (Ren’Py) or, Sense in Self; The testimony of one Nastya V. Yarocz, Rot Physician, on the peculiar happenings at Pavia Manor following the death of honoured Guest Lord Kallistos of Arkhé. And on the even more curious romances she has forged therein.

House of Prestidigitation (CScript) is a school of magic game, a chance for you to pursue a specialty in the magical arts while competing in extra-curricular events, investigating clandestine clubs, and preventing a disastrous curse from carrying away the House before the end of term! You can also explore the strange history of the House itself, or turn your attention towards more romantic endeavours.

What will you do now that you find yourself in the captain’s chair of a starship tasked with exploration and diplomacy? Forge your name in the history of the Astral Alliance as a hero… or a traitor in Captain’s Log - Space Adventure (CScript).

In Time Fall (CScript) — Time does not wait for anyone, even for the one that controls it. Life in the undercity of Draeken, also known as The Depths, is brutal enough. But when an ill-fated encounter leaves you forever altered—your blood itself changed—you’ll soon realize that time is strange, and the thin fabric of reality a fickle thing. Even more so when it’s something you can no longer just witness … but may be forced to control.

Until the Dogs Come Home (CScript) is about war, though you play no part in it. Instead, you are the sole member of your hometown’s postal service, who must venture into fire and brimstone to bring the word of loved ones to the front lines. As the battle rages on and new truths come to light, your seemingly simple job transforms into a rescue mission, where the very lives of the people you were tasked to deliver to are in your hands.

In Velocity's Edge (Twine) as the adrenaline-soaked story unfolds, secrets are unveiled, loyalties are tested, and the pursuit of the checkered flag takes on a life of its own, propelling the characters toward the finish line which is only the beginning of the ultimate race. @velocitysedge-if

In the summer of 1984 you get a letter informing you of your mother's death. The first and only letter you get in ten years since you left your hometown. You stand in the middle of the old, tiny room that you can barely afford to rent and read it over and over again until the buzz at the back of your head quiets down. - There Are No People Left (Twine)

In Bride of Shadows (Twine) step into the tragic and fleeting existence of a Vestal of Dawn—a priestess bound by sacred vows of purity and an unwavering devotion to scripture. But when the sun goddess abandons you, your faith shatters. In your darkest moment, a tempting offer arises. A new covenant. A second chance at life... but at a cost. @bride-of-shadows-if

In Lecture Me Later (Unity) you wake up in a classroom way after your lecture concludes. The person who wakes you up looks familiar. Oh right, it's that one popular guy that everyone likes. With the light of the setting sun on your skin, you engage in conversation with the popular young man, realizing that things are taking a very scandalous turn, and that his interests are far more fascinating than you'd think. @lehxra-arts

~ UPDATES ~

A Shriek of Ash and Fire (CScript) added new content to their demo. @krogpile

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance (CScript) released second portion of Chapter 3. @darielivalyen

Keeper of Life and Death (CSscript) added new content to their demo. @keeperofthesunandmoon

Lightweaver: Chosen (CSscript) updated their demo. @lightweaver-chosen-if

My One and Only (CSscript) added new content to their demo. @reds-corner

Strings of Fate: Origins (CScript) released full Chapter 3.

The Eternal Library (CScript) updated their demo. @leiatalon

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) added new content to their demo

Thicker Than (CScript) updated their demo. @barbwritesstuff

Throne of Blood (CScript) released Zero and Cy’s aftermath Chapters. @throneofblood-if

Tri City Monsters (Ren’Py) released Akello Chapter 4. @tricitymonsters

Weeping Gods (CScript) updated their demo. @jcollinswrites

When Life Gives You Lemons (CScript) added new content to their demo. @when-life-gives-you-lemons-if

Chop Shop (CScript) released Episode 4. @losergames

Help! I Got Isekaied as a Lamia (CScript) added new content to the demo @succubus-interactivefiction

Marry My Stalker released Chapter 1.

The King's Hound (Twine) released the second half of Chapter 2. @the-kingshound

Hybrid (Twine) added new content to their demo. @heart-forge

~ OTHER ~

Mathbrush released Learning from the Best of Text [IF History Book], a collection of various historical essays about the history of interactive fiction as told through the lens of IFComp, the XYZZY Awards, and Spring Thing. (We thank Anon for bringing our attention to this release.)

When Winter Comes Again (Definitive Edition) (Ren’Py) is the fully remastered version of the romance visual novel originally released for mobile devices. Now available on PC, this edition brings an enhanced experience with improved visuals, and refined storytelling.

To Ashes You Shall Return (CScript) is looking for beta testers!

Sanguine Sky: Winter Special Collection of the short stories is out! @sanguinesky-if

let’s TEST IF#2: playtesting your game is also out! @golmac

As you might have heard, Dashingdon, a free ChoiceScript game hosting service, will be shutting down at the end of the month. All users and games will be permanently deleted. (Read more here)

If you know about a project that’s moving to an alternative hosting service, please consider updating the link in our Database. Our Team will be working on this in the upcoming weeks, but any help would be appreciated.

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks. If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Velocity's Edge by Amelia (Twine).

It's the first F1 based interactive fiction I've seen! Its very unique!

//submitted by anon//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

our anons

For sending us a Highlight and news!!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

See you in two weeks!

BEX, DION, BRIAR AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2025-ISSUE 2

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

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kaijuposting · 1 year ago

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Update: It turns out that this isn't quite true, so if you see this, please check out the correction over here, thanks!

So apparently, "show don't tell" was pushed as Really Good Writing Advice in the 1950's because it kept writers from discussing political ideas that challenged the status quo.

Which like... obviously, "show, don't tell" can be useful sometimes, like if you're describing a terrifying monster! But pushing it as The Only Way To Write would definitely have a chilling effect on stories centering concepts and experiences unfamiliar to readers.

I find it both fascinating and a little disturbing how effectively censorship can be accomplished through simply convincing people that certain forms of expression are gauche.

#writing #show don't tell #censorship #history #writing advice

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juju-or-anya · 9 months ago

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It's hard not to find irony in the criticisms directed towards Eloise Bridgerton and the elevation of Penelope Featherington as a more genuine and hardworking figure in contrast with Eloise's supposed privileged circumstances and her discourse on feminism. Indeed, some voices have pointed out Eloise's feminism as something white and privileged, and while this is not without merit, it's akin to rediscovering what others have already noticed, akin to Christopher Columbus "discovering" America.

Understanding the context in which "Bridgerton" unfolds is essential. The series is set in Regency England, between 1813 and 1825. This historical period is marked by a highly stratified and conservative society, where women, especially those of the upper class, were relegated to traditional roles and lacked basic legal rights. In this context, any discussion of feminism must consider the unique limitations and challenges of the time.

It is true that Eloise Bridgerton, being part of a respected family in English nobility, embodies many of the characteristics associated with the white and privileged feminism of the time. However, this should not diminish the value of her role in advancing feminist ideas in her historical context. It is thanks to women like Eloise, who challenged social expectations and dared to question the status quo, that doors were opened for future, more inclusive feminist movements.

On the other hand, when analyzing Penelope Featherington's role in contrast with Eloise Bridgerton's, intriguing nuances worthy of a more detailed critical exploration are revealed. Although both come from upper-class families, Penelope's experiences differ significantly from Eloise's. In the society depicted in "Bridgerton," Penelope is portrayed as a more marginal figure, overshadowed by the prominence and glamour of the Bridgerton family. She is often seen in the background, struggling to find her place in a world where her social status does not put her at the center of attention.

Throughout the series, Penelope exhibits a distressing lack of empathy and solidarity towards other women. Instead of fostering unity and support among her peers, her writings are propelled by feelings of envy, resentment, and desires for revenge. Striking examples of this include her actions to publicly reveal Marina Thompson's pregnancy, intending to undermine her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, or defaming individuals such as Daphne, Edwina, and Kate Sharma, often with no apparent reason other than personal gain.

Penelope's behavior as Lady Whistledown sheds light on her complex nature and motivations. While it may represent an attempt to find her voice in a world dominated by more powerful figures, it also reveals a tendency towards manipulation and selfishness. Ultimately, her role as the mysterious chronicler is more than just a quest for identity; it is a reflection of the moral and ethical complexities underlying the society of "Bridgerton."

In summary, asserting that Penelope is more feminist and hardworking than Eloise due to her role as Lady Whistledown is, at best, simplistic and, at worst, deeply misleading. Both women, while privileged in their own right, have chosen different paths in life and have faced their own challenges. However, the narrative of Penelope as a morally superior and more genuinely hardworking figure should be questioned in light of her actions and motivations, which often reveal a lack of integrity and empathy towards her peers.

It's important to note that when Theo confronts Eloise, questioning her understanding of the real world and her privileged position, Eloise doesn't reject this criticism but uses it as a catalyst to seek greater understanding. Recognizing the validity of Theo's observation, Eloise actively seeks to broaden her horizons. She engages in conversations with Theo and John, seeking to break free from the bubble of privilege in which she has lived so far.

On the other hand, Penelope takes a different stance towards her own privileged position. Instead of acknowledging her situation and seeking to understand the realities of those less privileged, Penelope vehemently denies any suggestion that she also benefits from the system. Rather than accepting her position of privilege, she portrays herself as a victim, despite her actions suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, this divergence in attitudes between Eloise and Penelope highlights the complexity of individual perceptions of privilege and personal responsibility in an unequal world.

PS: The comment: "Penelope saved Eloise by writing that she hung out with radicals, she doesn't know what it's like to be grateful" is shit. Whose fucking fault is it that the Queen is on a crusade with torches and pitchforks, looking for blood and a rolling head? From Penelope because she doesn't know when to keep her hand still and stop writing, if it weren't for Penelope, the queen wouldn't think that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, Penelope wasn't looking to help Eloise, she was looking to save her skin.

#anti penelope featherington #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #the bridgertons #bridgerton #theo sharpe #I swear I'm going to cry if I read again that Penelope is an icon of feminism and women's empowerment #Eloise does not deserve all the hate they are giving her #I do want Eloise and Theo to be together forever.#Because they love each other and would be very happy together #marina thompson #madame delacroix

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ldysmfrst · 9 months ago

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American Mate (6) - A Proposition for You

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 6 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 5,431

Work count for Story: 25,248

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, arguments, comfort, Alpha Space, close proximity, and scenting.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“Excuse me, Sirs. We have arrived at the Airbnb,” the driver announces through the van's intercom system. The voice pulls Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook's attention away from the end of a scenting cuddle session.

“Thank you, Mr. Malcolm,” Jungkook calls out loud enough to be heard past the petition between the driver’s and passenger's seats. Looking down, he trails his fingers through Jimin’s hair as the tiny Alpha is now sprawled across his and Taehyung’s lap with his eyes closed.

“Minnie, we need to get out, my little love,” looking at Taehyung, “Tae Tae? Are you good now?”

“Hmm. Yeah, Kook, I am doing better,” Taehyung opens his eyes, returning to their clear brown, longer darkened with lust. Lifting Jimin’s legs off his lap, Taehyung moves from his seat and opens the van door.

Taehyung as he watches the panda curl up into a small ball, trying to become one with Jungkook. Raising a brow, he firmly says, “Minnie, you cuddle bug. Time to go. I know you are nowhere near a scent high, so please get up so we can get Y/n to see the doctor.”

Jumping up from lying on Jungkook’s lap, Jimin stumbles out the door and over to the first van, “I will get their door!”

Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle as they watch the dancer trip over one of the van’s swivel chairs, but he manages not to fall onto the curb before beelining it to the other van.

“Hey, hyung. Are you going to be okay around Y/n?” asks Jungkook.

“I think so. It might be better for me to keep my distance until she isn’t in as much pain. I think that is what is causing the most issues for my Alpha. Well, that and keeping away from that pathetic excuse of a Director,” answers Taehyung, growling out the last part.

“I think it would be best if we all keep away from him, though I think Manager Sejin and Namjoon will have to at least deal with him a few more times,” comments the youngest.

“Better him than us. Why don’t you go with the others? I will help with the luggage so that everything is where it should be,” suggests Taehyung before hugging Jungkook around the shoulders and kissing his cheek softly.

You didn’t realize how stuffy the van had gotten, but the intensity of the scents within the van does not go unnoticed by Jimin as he watches you bolt from the van right past him towards the packhouse.

Yoongi followed close behind with a smirk on his lips.

“What did we miss being in the reject van?” Jimin asks no, the three remaining Alphas.

“Oh, you guys missed quite a bit, but we will talk about it later. Maybe once Miss Y/n goes in with the doctor,” Namjoon says as the rest leave the van.

Jungkook walks up to the group and watches you with a confused look. Manager Sejin also joins them.

“You all realize she has no idea what she is to you. She isn’t going to understand why it is nice that she is so instinctually responsive,” Manager Sejin comments using air quotes.

“Yes, Manager-nim. She just was… ah it is hard to explain,” Hoseok bashfully responds as he looks at the floor.

“Well, she isn’t my mate, and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to break it to her, but you are going to have to be careful. I know that much,” contemplates Manager Sejin, looking at you, a softness of worry crosses his face. “Do you guys know that she wouldn’t even ask for a bottle of water when she got to the van because she didn’t want to take something from the pack?”

“I have a feeling that she has had to be the one to take care of others and put herself last. She won’t ask for help, and accepting help will be hard for her. Especially since you guys are so well-known and established as a mate-bonded pack,” adds Manager Sejin, looking at his watch, down the street and then back to the gathered group.

Taking deep breaths, you hope to clear your mind, slow your heart to an average pace, and regain professionalism from wherever it is hiding. Muttering to yourself, you are unaware that Yoongi has followed you, but he keeps a distance while listening to your utterances. His smirk grows to the point where his eyes are almost closed.

Now that you have calmed down, you turn around and almost run into him, yelling, “Ahh! Don’t sneak up on me like that. I need to get you and Evie both a bell. It must be a feline thing.”

Glancing past Yoongi, you notice Taehyung coming up the steps with some of the staff carrying luggage. You also mumble, “I should get one for him, too.”

Chuckling, Yoongi shakes his head, “No bell. No house cat. Jaguar.” Taking a step closer, he sniffs, “Better? No conflict?”

You can’t help but smile softly at his concern: “No, I am fine now. I just haven’t had much skinship, as one might say… outside of my family pack, as you call them.”

“I know it is a big cultural thing amongst hybrids and even more so depending on the kind of relationship involved. I guess I was taken back by all the … all that,” you say, gesturing towards the van as if it were explaining whatever was happening inside.

Yoongi nods in understanding and takes the last step to be by your side, facing the rest of the pack. His tail again wraps around your waist, and you giggle in amusement, regaining his attention with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you keeping me on a fur leash?” You ask, pointing at his tail on your waist.

Yoongi looks down at where you are pointing and looks at his tail like he doesn’t realize that he ever put it there, to begin with. With a glare like he is scolding a child, his tail starts to let go, which pulls at your heart a bit.

“It’s okay, Alpha,” you say as you stroke along the soft black fur, laying it back in its place, “you are keeping me close and safe as a good Alpha should. Thank you for protecting me.”

Yoongi preens at the compliment while holding back a shudder at the feeling of you petting his tail. His Alpha is happy you recognize his needs and allow him to continue. It’s like the instincts of a mate are just below the surface, waiting for a way to get out. Yoongi cannot wait to be there when you know who you are to them and watch the bonds solidify.

“Mr. Min,” you start to speak only to get cut off with an indignant huff.

“Yoongi Alpha. Not, Mr. Min. Yoon,” the jaguar says, pointing at himself with his ears flat.

“Ah, umm. Okay. Yoongi,” you say with a blush as you avoid looking him in the face. “I want to thank you for helping me not land hard on the floor back at the office. I am sure I would have been in worse shape if you hadn't tried to catch me.”

“Hopefully, you know that I do not blame you for my wrist. It was just awful timing,” you say, hoping his Alpha understands what you are saying and the Yoongi part of him also hears you.

“Still hurt. Keep safe for healing,” Yoongi says, leaning down to catch your eyesight and hoping you see the truth in his words.

“Time to go ahead inside. Jin-hyung, can you make some snacks for everyone, including the staff? If you need help, take Hobi with you. The rest will finish helping Tae-ah with the rest of the luggage, and I will go with Yoongi and Miss Y/n to one of the guest rooms on the first floor,” Namjoon instructs the pack.

With different forms of agreement, the boys take off to do their assigned tasks.

Seokjin and Hoseok smile sheepishly as they pass you, heading to the kitchen. Jimin and Jungkook wait for Taehyung to return before the three head to the packing van. Have a group of seven Alphas with their clothes, specialized bedding, personal items, and clothes needed a small troop of men to unpack.

Namjoon walks up the stairs to the porch, his ears flicking to the street as he hears a car approaching. This could only signal the doctor’s arrival, but he leaves the greeting to the manager.

“Miss Y/n. Yoongi. If you please follow me, I will take you to one of the guestrooms you can use to meet the doctor,” says Namjoon as he opens the front door. “We have some snacks being prepared and will bring those soon as well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose, Prime Alpha Sir. Save those for the pack and your staff, please. Plus, my stomach isn’t feeling so well with all the pain,” you explain to Namjoon. Shaking your head, you silently add, ‘The emotional whiplash isn’t helping either.’

Leading you both into the house, Namjoon nods his head, “I see. I am sorry it took so long for us to get you seen. We normally heal rather quickly as hybrids. I think we forgot that humans cannot do that. Sorry.”

“No worries, Prime Alpha, Sir. I have a high pain tolerance, according to my mom and Derek, but I guess there is just so much that has happened in a short time that my body is just kind of everywhere. I am sorry if my scent is causing any problems as well. I know it must be all over the place,” you reply.

At that last comment, you feel a tug at your waist from the tail, causing you to stumble back into Yoongi. Who buries his nose in your neck, similar to how you were being held by Hoseok in the van, causing you to blush as you regain your footing.

“Smells good. Not bad. Y/n in pain but happy,” he says as he releases you. This time, he grabs your good hand and pulls you into the room that Namjoon has opened.

The room is significantly larger than your bedroom, that is for sure. The walls are off-white, with a dark purple accent wall containing a sitting window. The bed is a four-post queen with deep purple curtains tied back with black lace, complementing the purple and black bedding. All the furniture is made of dark, almost burnt-looking wood with iron accents.

You look around the room with your mouth agape. “It’s so beautiful here, and look!” you exclaim as you walk to the adjoining bathroom. “It comes with a private bathroom!”

Namjoon and Yoongi smile at each other as they smell your sweet pea coming out in waves with a hint of more jasmine, which the boys now understand indicates your happiness.

“There is also a walk-in closet, but my favorite part is the sitting window. Perfect to read in,” Namjoon adds.

There is a knock at the door, though it is standing wide open. The three of you look over to see the manager, Jungkook, and a woman with an old-fashioned medical bag standing just outside the door.

“Pardon the interruption, but Dr. Blackwell is here,” Manager Sejin states, motioning to the woman beside him, who bows.

“Dr. Blackwell! It is good to see you again. Please come in. I am sure you were informed that Yoongi is in Alpha Space and will probably like to stay, but I will step out if needed,” Namjoon greets Dr. Blackwell with a firm handshake.

Dr. Blackwell is a younger-looking woman, but you can tell that she is still older than you. Her hair is in a French braid, and she is wearing a pantsuit. Setting her bag on the chest at the end of the bed, she looks at Yoongi with kind eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Kim. I was informed, and you are correct. Since the patient is not a member of your pack, you will have to leave. Technically, Mr. Min should leave as well, but I will leave that up to the patient,” she states, turning to you.

“Oh, umm…” Looking between the doctor and Yoongi, they both seem to await your decision. “Mr. M,” you are cut off by a huff and a tug around your waist, “Sorry, Yoongi can stay for now. I will ask him to step out if anything gets too private.”

Yoongi’s actions cause the doctor and Namjoon to pause before looking at each other. Dr. Blackwell speaks first: “Mr. Kim, I was informed that Mr. Min believes to be responsible for the injury. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that is right, and as a mate ~cough cough~ bondedpack, we are all here to support them,” informs Namjoon while staring down the doctor.

“Oh, I see, and that would explain the familiarity. Thank you, Mr. Kim. That is all I believe I need from you now. Unless you want me to check out your cough?” Dr. Blackwell teasingly asks the Prime Alpha, who turns slightly pink.

“Nope, I got it. You got it. Yeah,” sputters Namjoon. “We will head out with the rest of the pack and be waiting in the dining room near the main kitchen if you need anything or need to kick Yoongi out.”

Pleasant conversations are happening here and there between everyone present. Everyone seems to avoid you as a topic since no one has said what is happening. However, since the doctor was here, most staff have concluded that something happened between you and Yoongi. The only ones that do know are the pack and their manager.

Namjoon watches from the entryway with Jungkook draped on his back. He has always felt proud of his pack and how they treat the staff like a pseudo-family pack. They have seen other idol groups treat their staff like stepping stones, which never felt right to any Bangtan pack.

“Hey, everyone,” Namjoon says loud enough to gain the room's attention. “The pack has to have a pack meeting while the doctor is here. I invite the staff to take some prepared snacks to the guest house across the lawn and settle in. We won’t be needing any services tonight aside from Manager Sejin.”

“Namjoon-ssi, I will also head over to the other house to settle in, but I will keep my phone on me. Please text me when you need me, and I will come right over,” the manager responds while holding a tray of rolled-up meats and cheeses.

“Sounds good. Bangtan Pack, we need to meet in the dining room. Grab what’s left and come sit down,” orders Namjoon, patting Jungkook on the hand and motioning for him to help carry stuff.

With that, the kitchen is filled with goodbyes, see you later, and other pleasantries as everyone departs. Namjoon, knowing that he doesn’t do well in the kitchen, turns and heads to the dining room they will use for the meeting.

The rest of the boys grab what they can and follow their Prime Alpha. The energy in the dining room is heavy. They know they have to discuss this; there is no getting around it, but the situation is odd. Once everyone is seated, Namjoon looks around the table to see each of his mates looking back expectantly.

“We can all agree that she is our mate, right?” The Prime Alpha asks, wanting to ensure they are at least starting on the same page. A chorus of agreement floods the room, lifting a weight off their shoulders.

“Hyung?” Jimin tentatively speaks up.

“Yeah, Jimin-ah, everything okay?” inquires Namjoon.

“Seeing how everyone has reacted to her, I agree that she is a mate, but I want to be honest with you all… I haven’t had time for my Alpha to respond to her.” Taking a deep breath, Jimin continues, “That isn’t right actually, to be transparent; my Alpha backs away whenever she is close. I don’t know why.”

Jimin looks down and picks at the tablecloth until a Hobi takes hold of his hand. “Jimin, you were close with our last playmate and were the first of us to connect with her on a deeper level of friendship. She broke that trust with you,” Hobi begins.

“I am sure I was not the only one who was shocked that you wanted a new playmate out here. I didn’t say anything because I figured you were trying to rebound. However, rebounding by finding a new friend differs from stumbling on a new mate,” explains Hoseok. “It will be difficult for you and some of our other mates because very few of us have had any experience outside our bonded mates.”

“Minnie,” Jungkook chimes in. “I know you are nervous, and you keep trying to find a way to be around her but not at the same time, which is okay. But you need to make sure to listen to yourself and your Alpha. It is okay if you are not jumping into it headfirst like some of us are.”

“Hobi-ah and Kook-ah are right, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon finally speaks up. “This goes for everyone. We will all take this at a comfortable pace for us and, more importantly, for her. Manager-nim reminded me that she probably cannot understand what is happening right now. Not just because we haven’t said anything yet but because she is human. She is likely fighting her instincts because we are already a bonded pack.”

“Remember how long it took us to convince Jungkook-ah he wasn’t a toy? Or how Taehyung-ah didn’t open up fully until after Jimin-h finally took it into his own hands?” inquires Namjoon.

“She is gonna be like that,” Seokjin states, gaining everyone’s attention. “We need to watch ourselves. Some of us are more instinctually driven, which could drive her away. She may have instincts because she is our mate, but she wasn’t raised using those.”

“With that being said… does anyone have any suggestions?” questions Namjoon.

“Yoongi will end up being her safe space, I think,” Taehyung comments more to himself than to anyone.

Hobi shifts in his seat, remembering how self-conscious you were in the van before he speaks up, “She reminds me of myself. She doesn’t have a good self-image. We should spend time with her. Show her who we are off-stage, as a pack, as mates with each other, and encourage her to join in.”

“While I think that is a good idea, she won’t join in,” Jungkook interjects. “She wouldn’t ask for a bottle of water for the worry of taking from the pack. How will she accept cuddle time or scenting?”

Yoongi’s ears are flat at your yelling or the feeling of failure. During the examination, his tail curled around his waist as your pain levels tinted your scent with mold. The feeling of failure and something akin to heartbreak filled his being.

The ever-calm Dr. Blackwell continues, “It would be best if you sought help during that time,” looking at Yoongi, “and since you have a respectable pack claiming responsibility for the injury, there should be nothing to worry about. Isn’t that right, Mr. Min?”

Yoongi nods with an almost blank face as he tries to hide his disappointment in himself. He internally scolds himself for breaking his mate during their first meeting.

“Mr. Min, I think it would be best to get your Prime Alpha to discuss anything further,” Dr. Blackwell instructs.

Looking briefly at you while you are looking at the floor, cradling your wrist, Yoongi leaves the guest room, quickly seeking out his pack. It isn’t often that Yoongi feels like he is in over his head and needs his hyung or Prime Alpha, but right now, he cannot breathe.

“Miss Y/n, have you dealt with hybrids?” inquires Dr. Blackwell.

“Yes, my family pack, as Bangtan puts it, consists of a beta fox and omega munchkin, but what does that have to do with anything?” you scoff back, the irritation at the situation spilling into your words.

Nodding with a calculating face, Dr. Blackwell says, “I see. That makes sense. You were the Alpha in your pack, which explains why you don’t understand what is happening around you.”

Snapping your head to look at the doctor, you demandingly ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Taking a tentative step forward, Dr. Blackwell places a hand on your shoulder, “It isn’t my place to say anything more than I already have. Just take a moment to think back to what you have learned about hybrids, and be open to the pack around you in the next coming weeks.”

Jin, being the closest to him, reaches out and pulls him to sit on his lap. Being Yoongi’s only hyung, he goes willingly and tucks his nose into Jin’s neck, “Hyung, I broke mate.”

“Yoon, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. It was strictly an accident,” Jin whispers while rubbing soothing circles on his back. The pack pushes calming scents into the room to help Yoongi avoid going into total Alpha drop.

“Yoongi-hyung, can you tell us what the doctor said?” asks Jungkook.

A muffled reply of “Broke wrist. Weeks healing. Need Pack Alpha” is heard because Yoongi won’t remove his nose from Seokjin’s neck as he seeks comfort.

“Joon-ah, go talk with Miss Y/n and the doctor. Get things figured out. We will take care of Yoon-ah,” Jin instructs, subtly pulling the elder card again.

“Well, come on in and make yourself comfortable,” you say. You smile down at him as you scratch softly on his hair, but Namjoon notes that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you still in pain?” he asks as his eyes close at the soothing feeling of your fingers.

“No, Dr. Blackwell gave me something for that, and it kicked in a few minutes ago. Though it’s going to be painful for a while,” you inform. Looking up, Namjoon stands next to the doctor with a sweet smile.

“Dr. Blackwell, can you explain the situation, please?” you ask, nodding to the wolf hybrid.

Nodding, she turns to the Prime Alpha, “Mr. Kim, Miss Y/n has what I suspect is a hairline fracture. To be certain, I would need to take her to the local hospital, but given your situation, that would not be a very easy task.”

“I can say with certainty that be it a hairline fracture or a severe sprain, she will have to wear a brace and not use her wrist for six to eight weeks,” she continues.

When you are reminded of the weeks of difficulty that will come, your scent turns watery, and worry creeps into your mind.

“As you all know, I am both a hybrid and a human doctor, which brings me to the next issue. While Miss Y/n is kind of heart and forgives Mr. Min of any wrongdoings, Mr. Min, according to the hybrid culture, is responsible for her recovery, and I must confirm this is happening,” states the doctor, her eyes set firmly on the Alpha.

“Wait, my recovery? I thought it was just to get me to see you?” Your eyes bounce between the three others in the room.

“That is correct, and as Prime Alpha of his bonded pack, we will provide for her over the next eight weeks minimum. We have the space, the means, and the power to do so, Dr. Blackwell,” Namjoon says, holding eye contact with you. His voice gave no room for argument.

“Prime Alpha Sir, you… the pack… my work… how?” you sputter while your mind runs into walls and failed solutions.

“Not to interrupt, but I will excuse myself as this is now a pack matter. Keep the brace on as much as possible to aid healing and prevent surgical intervention. I will leave my report with notes for your employer explaining your health situation and a vial of your pain medications on the dining room table,” Dr. Blackwell says as she gathers her things and bows, leaving the room.

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is right,” agrees Namjoon. “This is a pack matter now, and I think speaking with everyone together would be the best idea. Would you join us to discuss what to do next?”

While trying to comprehend the wild situation you got thrown in, you mumble, “Umm, yeah. We can do that. I can do that.”

Moving to stand, Jungkook moves out of the way and holds your good hand, leading you toward the living room where the pack is now gathered.

Seokjin and Yoongi are on the medium loveseat-like couch, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok are on the long couch, and the only open seat is an armchair.

You move to sit alone in the armchair only to have Jungkook pull you to the couch where Seokjin and Yoongi are. “Jin-Hyung, can we sit there with Yoongi?”

Noticing that Yoongi gets stiff at the question, you say, “No, no, that is okay. I think Yoongi has had enough of me. I can sit somewhere else.” However, not only does Jungkook not let go of your hand, but a black tail finds its way around your thigh.

“Sure thing, I will sit with Namjoon,” Seokjin smiles and moves to sit with his Prime Alpha on the arm of the chair.

Next thing you know, you are sandwiched between the bunny and jaguar hybrids. Yoongi is on your right, his tail still wrapped around your thigh, with the tip sliding up and down almost absentmindedly. Jungkook is on your left, still holding your hand and resting his head on your shoulder.

Your body relaxes as you lean back on the couch, looking around the room. Your mind is joking about having a fur leash again despite Yoongi not looking at you since you entered the room and how you seem to have become a bunny pillow. After some thought, you realize that you don’t mind either action.

Someone clearing their throat pulls you from your thoughts. Looking towards the armchair, you see Namjoon sit up straighter and take on a look that clearly shows that it is the Prime Alpha talking and not the cute, funny Namjoon you have seen clips of on Instagram.

“Bangtan pack, Miss Y/n has a hairline fracture of her right wrist,” starts the Prime Alpha. At this information, a collective hiss of sympathetic pain comes from the other members.

“She will be required to wear that brace and limit the use of her hand for the next six to eight weeks. This brings up some causes of concern for Miss Y/n,” he continues.

Namjoon looks at you to continue, which prompts you to say, “Umm… well, I am right-hand dominant, so doing pretty much anything will be complicated. I only have about four days of sick pay saved up right now. So, returning to work will be a hurdle all on its own, not to mention doing any chores or cooking.”

Your eyes wander across the group as you speak. They all look at you like you speak something other than English or Korean. When your eyes come to a stop on Yoongi, he is finally looking at you, his eyes now a deep brown.

“Y/n, stay with us,” Yoongi states, not asking. “I am a respectable Alpha Jaguar, and it is my honor to care for you and bring you back to health. My Alpha has already told you outside that he would keep you safe until you are healed. I am here for the long haul.”

Your eyes widen at his declaration, and your mind blanks on what to say or how to respond.

From your other side, Jungkook cuddles into your side, his nose nudging your neck softly, “We all will be here for the long haul.”

“They are right, you know. We are a bonded pack of mates, and we would love to have you stay here with us so that we can take care of you,” Hoseok adds.

Breaking eye contact with Yoongi, you took to Hoseok as he and the others on that couch smiled genuinely. While you are sure any typical female with eyes would jump at the chance, you question, “What about my job? I cannot leave my work. I have rent to pay for my flat and food and stuff.”

“Y/n,” your head snaps to the Prime Alpha, “is it okay if we call you Y/n?”

Nodding, you turn your body to face him directly. Your left hand, still holding Jungkook’s, is gripping tightly, trying to ground yourself.

At your agreement, the Prime Alpha smiles, showing off dimples as he continues, “I figured that you would worry about a few things like that.”

“The room you met with the doctor in is yours while you stay here with us… at the pack house. When we say that we will take care of you, we mean it. We will cover all your expenses; it’s not like we lack the funds to care for anyone. Lastly, in order to keep a job to cover your everyday expenses, such as your flat, cell phone, etc., going, I have a proposition for you.”

Holding your breath, your eyes wide at everything he has said so far, you gulp, “What is your proposition, Prime Alpha, Sir?”

“Become our playmate.”

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Taglist - CLOSED

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florenceafternoon · 2 months ago

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Thank you to all the authors who share their wonderful stories with us. I hope this list reminds you that I come back to these stories often and that your words are loved by many.

As always, these fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon compliant.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

A Hundred Visions and Revisions by @yallthemwitches

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

To live for the hope of it all

Whispers in the Dark also by yallthemwitches

When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing... but if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught?

Until the Light Takes Us also by yallthemwitches

A series of drabbles and fics following the prompt of Jilytober Fest 2024.

color theory by @clare-with-no-i

Lily Evans learns about love: its hues, its tints, its shades. Some disappoint. Some dazzle.

falling (for fools) by @jjameslily

She hated him. Hated his confidence, his messy charm, the way he managed to take up space even when he wasn’t saying a word.

Absolutely. Totally. Without question.

But, as much as she tried to focus, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought.

She’d never noticed just how distracting James Potter could be.

don’t let it make you cry also by jjameslily

Her eyes glistened, the love within her radiating from her. She let it ripple outward, weaving her spirit into the air around him, reaching beyond the veil, hoping he—Harry, their son—would feel it not as a ghost of a fleeting memory, but as a pulse. Alive. Real.

Quid Pro Quo by StarsAndDiamond (on ao3)

Lily Evans was not ready to go home for her sister's Christmas engagement, but she wasn't the only one up late at night in the common room.

Sharper Than Hope by @maraudersftw

“You’re…” A lick of lips; something sharper than hope on my tongue; another attempt. “You fancy me?”

every single time by @gigglesandfreckles-hp

Unrelated drabbles, fics, ficlets, and word dumps in response to jilytober 2024 prompts

2, 5, 10, 11, 12, 16, 19, 21, 27, 29 and 30 are my favourites

Lucky Number 7 by zipadeea (on ao3)

Lily Evans thought life at Hogwarts was busy enough for her, what with Prefect duties and N.E.W.T classes and meetings with the Slug Club. Then, Marlene convinces her to try out for the Gryffindor quidditch team.

Written because James was a Chaser, and I'm convinced Harry's athletic abilities come from both sides of the family tree.

crawl home by @annabtg

He doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead. All he knows is that he wants to go home.

Exhale by @petalsthefish

"Shhh," James leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "I’m so sorry, but I have to set the bones again. It’s okay to cry, you're doing so well. So well, baby."

"Fuck," she whimpered through her tears. "I hate this."

"I know, I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I hate this too, sweetheart."

Masquerade also by petalsthefish

James was going to jinx Sarah Hitchkes.

It was Sarah Hitchkes who conceived the entire idea, driven by two main motives. First, it was a fun and creative way for everyone to showcase their Patronuses. Second, it gave her the perfect excuse to throw a massive party. Scheduled for July 31st at her sprawling estate, the event was open to all the sixth- and seventh-year students. She dubbed it the “Patronus Party,” and it was set to be the social highlight of the summer—provided you could produce a corporeal Patronus.

this trope will always be a favorite of mine

Coincidence also by petalsthefish

“You look miserable.” Mary commented, noting Lily’s bored expression.

"I need to make out with someone like I need to breathe." Lily Evans hissed as she swirled her butterbeer and peered around the bar.

"James Potter's free."

In Their Short Time by @hogwartslivy

It was one hell of a love story. One that had a most tragic, untimely ending. They could never have guessed as mere children sitting across from one another on the train, all excitement and nerves and emotions, that their stories, all hopes and fears and loves, were to be forever intertwined.

Something Old Something New by @chiechie97

Weddings are the most beautiful things in the world. Unless you accidentally end up at your ex... somethings house to play violin at a family wedding.

Lily Evans just wants to get payed and go home to her cat. Perhaps she should have asked more questinos about the location and clients of her string quartets latest gig.

It’s Always You by @joyseuphoria

5 times jily kissed before they started dating

I'll keep your brittle heart warm by Iphigenniaa (on ao3)

Lily Evans didn't have to wash the blood off her hands that night, but she did have to wash the burning odor from her clothes, which seemed to soak even her own insides.

A Life With You by @kay-elle-cee

A Jily Lives AU collection of small moments from Hogwarts onwards, using the 31 Jilytober tumblr prompts.

7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22, 24, 29 and 30 are my favourites

don't forget me by blackcanarys (on ao3)

At the height of the First Wizarding War, Lily Evans finds herself contemplating life, death and her mortality after a routine Order mission in 1978.

It's All Politics by acciosalmon (on ao3)

The most constant emotional sentiment in Lily's Hogwarts career was her complete and utter loathing of one William Mulciber

I have yet to read this one, but it was recomended to me because it explores how jily's power dynamic is altered when James isn't potraied as white but Lily is

#lily evans #james potter #jily #jily fic rec list #this is mostly my favourites from jilytober ‘24

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drenosa · 5 months ago

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Salem: You wretches can't stand against me!

Ruby: We can! And we will!

Salem: Will you now? What silly ideas gave you that impressions.

Ruby: Plenty! Sound off, guys!

Yang: Always give 100%, because one's best is always good enough!

Weiss: Never lose hope, for it brings forth miracles in the unlikeliest of places!

Jaune: The world's largest military was nothing more than a personal guard for the ruling class. One willing to commit genocide to maintain a brutal status quo of oppression and exploitation. Only through an uprising of the working classes could this regime be toppled and with it reclaim their freedom and dignity.

Blake: Friends together are unbeatable, thanks to unbreakable bonds forged in the heat of battle!

Salem: Is... is that blond one okay?

Ruby: Who, Yang? I mean the whole arm thing was a bit of a downer but she's all good now.

Salem: Not that blonde, the blond one who looks like he's in a purpetual state of PTSD!

Ruby: Oh... yeah we don't think about that too much. These days, we just point and he stabs when we tell him to.

Salem: That's... interesting?

Ruby: It is. Jaune! Go stab!

Jaune: *Battlecries* AAAAAAAH!

Salem: *Terroryells* AAAAAAAH!

#rwby #rwby shitpost #rwby salem #rwby ruby rose #yang xaio long #weiss schnee #rwby jaune arc #blake belladonna

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 10 months ago

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Chapter 21

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Sexual content; Animal death (hunting - not descriptive); Mild description of vomit; a little sad angsty moment; Non-con sedation

You had to admit that holy shit, it was nice to be out in the fresh air. It was cold as fuck, but you were bundled up in the coat that had been brought to you all those weeks ago. It sucked to keep it situated for easy gun and knife access but it was enough. Your feet were warm in your boots, two pairs of socks since they were a little big to accommodate any swelling of your feet as the pregnancy progressed but that only meant that your toes were nice and toasty. Leggings under maternity jeans were a hindrance when the baby decided to drop kick your bladder, but otherwise, necessary to ensure you didn’t get frostbite in very inconvenient areas, as well as your legs.

You had been walking through the snow for about an hour before coming across any walkers. There were two, both women. One a little older than Beth and one about your own age. They moved slower in the cold, you had noticed. After putting them down, you became aware that their skin appeared to be freezing solid.

“Walker popsicles. Huh.” You muttered, storing that information to share. Another fifteen minutes went by and you had still seen no game, so you decided to stop and rest. You weren’t necessarily out of shape but you were growing a human inside of you. That tended to take a bit out of the energy department. You had swiped a canteen and some of the jerky, partaking of both to make sure you could carry out what you came to do.

“Alright, Thumper. Let’s see if we can figure out daddy’s weapon of choice. Can’t be that hard, right?” You promptly came very close to shooting a bolt into your own foot. You blinked at it and looked around as if there had been anyone else to see the incident before putting a hand to your belly. Thumper rolled as if just as shocked. “Let’s just keep that between us, okay?”

It was the operation that hindered you. Once you figured out the mechanics,—with about forty-five minutes of tinkering—aiming and firing were things that came naturally to you. Daryl was going to murder you when he had to fix everything you had fucked with in your exploration of the weapon. Collecting the bolts you had used for practice, you froze, eyes narrowed on the small indentations in the snow. Rabbits.

Small game was your specialty. You always hunted rabbits and squirrels when it was just you and father. There was nowhere to keep an abundance of meat in your small home. No smokehouse. It had been different when the family would come over, your aunt and uncles. They loved their venison and you never had to be concerned with wasting anything.

The smile that lifted the corners of your mouth was one born of bittersweet longing. You wished your father could be there to meet his grandchild, but you were—at the same time—thankful that he wasn’t around to see what had truly become of the world, that it would never go back to how it used to be.

Still, you chuckled as you wiped away a tear. Your father would have had one hell of a time getting used to the idea of Daryl being the father, but in the end, he would have been the first to see through that rough exterior to the man hidden underneath. And he would not have wasted a single second before calling the archer out on it.

“If you’re a boy, I could name you after your grandad. Maybe after your uncle, if your daddy wants.” Daryl still hadn’t revealed much about his family. Maybe once he was better, you could sit with him and just talk, quid pro quo. You ask a question about him, and then him about you. He seemed to be okay with that sorta thing. He never liked being the center of attention.

He also appeared interested in learning about you in every way he could. It hadn’t taken you long to notice the way he picked up on things and filed them away. He knew how you liked your meat cooked when it was being eaten outside of a stew. He would take it from Carol and do it himself, usually. He knew how things touching the front of your throat made you feel uncomfortable, like scarves or the top buttons of a flannel, stopping Maggie from wrapping a rather pretty knit fabric around your neck one bitterly cold morning.

Daryl also knew just how to touch you, how to curl his fingers inside of you and how much pressure you needed when his thumb would graze over your clit. He excelled in making you shiver by wetting his digits with your own arousal before dragging the tips over your skin to stimulate your nipples. He did all this while pressing soft kisses just behind your ear or over your pulse, everyone sleeping around you being none the wiser. It was always so incredibly erotic to be brought over the edge knowing that any of them could simply open their eyes and see that he was working you over.

Maybe you could show him what you knew he liked while he recovered. You knew for a fact that he would groan if you lapped and nibbled at a specific area just above his collarbone. He would never admit it but you had noticed the way touching his nipples made his hips jerk when he was inside of you. The first time you’d gone down on him back in the woods, you had kitten-licked at his tip and pressed your thumb against the vein that ran underneath, dragging the digit up his length. He had clawed at the tree behind him so hard that you were certain he’d be picking splinters from beneath his nails afterward.

It took a soft thump to the cranium, snow falling from a branch overhead, to bring you from your pleasant thoughts. With an ache between your thighs and the prospect of maybe getting some alone time with your boyfriend—you still needed to clarify what you could call him, if anything—while he wasn’t trying to evict his lungs from within his chest, you whined quietly. You kinda wished you had stayed there and were curled up in bed with him. Was he okay? Were the meds helping? Was Carol whacking him over the head with the bedpost to keep him from chasing you?

You had nearly convinced yourself to turn back when you saw the first rabbit, a decent sized cane cutter that would make a nice stew to last a couple of days. It hadn’t seen you and taking it down was easy since you had not yet shouldered the crossbow.

“One down, Thumper!” You took one step and then paused. “It’s kinda insensitive to call you Thumper when I’m hunting rabbits, isn’t it?”

You had two rabbits by the time at least three and a half hours had passed, a little disappointing but it was freezing and you did have to make periodic stops to put down walking corpses and even more stops to pee. You were feeling a little nauseous as well, so it was likely beyond time to head back. Maybe Daryl would rest just as well the next day and you could come back out since this excursion would show everyone you could handle yourself out there.

Wiping your knife across your thigh after yet another slow moving walker, you had barely secured it into the sheath before you noticed the tracks.

Deer.

A single deer, young but more than a year. Based on the depth of the tracks, you could likely manage to haul it back on your own if you could take it down. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glanced at the way back to the house; back to Daryl.

This was all for him, after all. The more food you could secure, the longer he could rest and recover. The decision was simple after that. Ensuring a bolt was loaded, you set out to do what you once did best.

You were still her.

The only differences were the people in your family were no longer an aunt and two uncles, the main man in your life was no longer your father, and you were 11 or so weeks away from having your own baby. You had never needed to be provided for, always the provider. There was no reason you and Daryl couldn’t share that responsibility. When the baby came, you’d adjust and adapt, providing differently and that was okay. The longer you could nurse Thumper, the easier it would make things. You’d step back then, let Daryl take over. It would be even more important to him then, the need to provide. You’d be a team, each caring for the baby in your own way.

The prospect was equal parts exciting and terrifying. New parents in a dystopian world. It wasn’t impossible. It was just dangerous. Daryl had done so well, thinking ahead when he had cleared that Wal-Mart. So much that would be needed already secured, ready to carry with your group when moving from place to place. With a small, tender smile, you glanced at the bracelet for morning sickness you still wore. It likely no longer worked, but you couldn't really bear to part with it.

You wanted to search out a baby store eventually, or make a request for a run. Cloth diapers would be a lifesaver once the disposable ones had been used. Infant and children’s medications needed to be stocked.

Thumper gave your ribs a jab, earning a hiss in response. “Okay, okay. I’m focused. Jeez, kid, can you be any more like your father?”

The tracks were getting closer together in clusters, the deer stopping to check out areas in search of food. You were catching up, the falling snow not yet filling in the prints. In the back of your mind, you maintained an active regard for the time you’d been gone, one eye on the sun to ensure you’d make it back before dark. You would be late and you’d steered off course but you were confident. You’d need to circle around and place yourself downwind soon if you wanted to stand a chance. This is what you knew.

You’d meet up with the search party at the very least on your journey back. That is if Carol hadn’t grown anxious and sent them earlier. Or Daryl—dear god, if Daryl hadn’t somehow managed to drag himself out of that house. No, they wouldn’t let him. You had to believe that. It would be Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog. Maybe Maggie. They’d likely be sore at needing to come find you but if you were hauling a deer, that disgruntlement would likely be forgotten quickly. You just needed to ensure you succeeded and that you stayed safe.

Just as you continued to track, you muttered a curse at a slow shuffling walker. One bolt needed to remain untainted for hunting and, so far, your knife had been sufficient but you were closing in on your target. Using the crossbow would be ideal for the dead at that juncture. Nearly silent kills. The crossbow was level with your eyes when you saw it.

The doe’s head perked up just beyond some snow-covered shrubbery, ears twitching. “Fuck.” You whispered. You had to take the deer first or risk it running from the walker. It had already spotted the threat, getting ready to move. There was no time to think. The deer went down easily, your muttered apologies and gratitude for what it would provide for your group were unheard as you dropped the bow and sprinted for the corpse.

Loading another bolt would take too much time, the deer would be lost to the walker. You were already cutting it close this way, the snow and the off-centered weight of your belly slowing you down. Just as the dead man began to fall on top of your kill for the unearned feast, you tackled him. There was a jolt of pain in your midsection but your knife was already sinking into an eye socket, the deed done.

“Ow,” you muttered. Scanning the area for threats as you unzipped and moved clothing, raising your sweater to look at the deep red mark on the side of your belly, just below your right rib cage. “Fuck.” A knee or elbow must have been angled just right to jab you on impact. “You okay in there?” Your sweater still rolled up, you laid your knife on your thigh and caressed the taut skin with both hands. “Come on, Thumps, need you to move.” A foot or hand pressed firmly into the injured side. “Okay, okay! Point taken! No more tackling walkers. Ouch, you little gremlin.” With a huff, you adjusted your clothing. You’d have Hershel look you over and check on the baby when you returned.

Wiping your knife on your jeans, you secured it on the sheath and crawled over to the deer. It remained unsullied and perfect to feed your family. It was a clean, quick kill and it didn’t suffer. You were always thankful for those.

“Alright, let’s get this back—” No time to register what was happening before you tilted over to retch violently. “Shit.” You panted, looking away from the mess of bile, water, and undigested jerky. Of course this couldn’t just go smoothly. Once again, the world had decided to fuck you. “At least Daryl beat it to getting me pregnant.” You laughed at your lame joke and laid back against the belly of the deer to catch your breath.

“Fucker.” You growled, angling your leg to kick the man's corpse. The baby moved as you laid there, the slightly ripple showing beneath your coat and sweater. “Oh, hey. I could see that.” You smiled, rubbing your very upset stomach. “Your father is gonna skin me right along with this deer.” You nodded to yourself. Closing your eyes, you took deep, calculated breaths in an attempt to gain control over the nausea.

But when they opened again, it was dark, the sun having fled and the moon bright in the star-filled sky. You groaned as you sat up, checking yourself and the area around you for any signs of walker activity. No bites. Your deer was frozen but whole. Shaking off the snow that had gathered on you, you rubbed your hands together, digging through the pockets of your coat with numb fingers in search of your gloves.

“You good in there, Thumps?”

Nothing.

You had just finished pulling on the second glove before stilling to stare at your round stomach hidden beneath your coat. “Thumper?” You had grown so accustomed to the baby reacting when you spoke that to feel such stillness made your chest tighten. “Baby?” Swallowing hard, you adjusted your clothing again, shivering when the chill of the night air struck your belly. “Come on, baby, can you move for mama?”

What if the baby had died inside you? Does the virus affect a fetus? What if you carried the baby only for them to be born a walker?

Then there was movement, gentle ripples below the skin. Some that you could see, some that you couldn’t. But the thought remained, a very real terror that your baby could already be dead and just trying to get out.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. You could only jerk your eyes back and forth at the sound of footsteps getting closer.

“Whatcha sittin’ in the snow for, Peanut?”

Now you definitely couldn’t breathe. There, bathed in moonlight, standing on two very there, very functioning legs, was your father. “Dad—daddy?”

“Hey, there.” You sat stock still, sweater still rolled up, eyes still frozen on him as he approached and crouched in front of you. “Let’s get you all fixed up here.” Gentle hands fixed your clothing, zipped your coat, and ruffled your hair.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked with the slightest wobble to your voice.

“‘Fraid so, Peanut-butter.” When the sound that punched out of you was like a painful sob, he was ducking to find your eyes. “Hey, hey. None of that.”

“I miss you.” You sniffled, letting him pull you close with his chin on your head. “There’s so much—”

“I know, baby girl. I’ve been watching.” He pulled back, thumbing away your tears. “Gonna be a grandpa, I see. Daddy wouldn’t have been my first choice but he surprised me.”

“You like him?” You smiled, lopsided and silly, giggling when he rolled his eyes.

“No father thinks any man is good enough for his little girl, but this one? Well, he keeps surprising me.” He offered you a hand, pulling you up with him as he stood. “He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him. So you need to get you and my grandbaby back to him before he loses his mind.”

“But the baby—”

“Is fine.” He chortled, gently stroking your cheek. “You’ll be an amazing mama, Peanut.” He was starting to fade right before your eyes. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t go.” You pleaded, hands passing through his shoulders when you tried to pull him back.

“I’m so proud of you.” His voice was echoing, distant even when you could still see his face. “You’ll be fine, all three of you. But now you need to wake up.”

A tear was frozen to your temple, pulling at your skin there when your eyes opened. Snow peppered down from the dark sky, the moon barely visible beyond the clouds. You felt no panic, breaths coming calmly and the baby kicking periodically, even if it did smart when the little extremities connected with the sensitive injury.

You winced pulling yourself away from the deer you knew would be at least partially frozen. The meat would keep, at least. You’d let the men handle the thawing and prepping anyway. The area was dark, no signs of flashlights or sounds of voices. They had either passed you by or never came at all.

It wouldn’t matter in the end.

Because you were going back to them.

Getting to your feet, you gathered your things and prepared to drag the deer. It would likely be about 115 pounds so carrying it was unlikely. You wouldn’t risk leaving it for later retrieval, not when 45 to 50 pounds of meat was likely from that single kill. Hell no.

You had once dragged Daryl while he was soak and wet and he had at least 60 pounds on that deer. This was doable. You just needed to think. Eyes darting around, you let your fingers drum on your tummy while you pondered. With a deep breath, you started to believe you’d just be dragging the damn thing by hand but then you noticed the walker you had put down. Grabbing your knife, you grinned like a damn fool and set to work.

Lori was pacing in front of the door, watching the men prepare to leave. “You should have already been out there hours ago! Before dark, Rick!” When the deputy stood with a sigh, she didn’t back down. “Do you remember when the decision was made to leave Daryl out when he didn’t come back? Who went to get him? What shape he was in when she brought him back?”

“Yes, I remember, okay! I was just trying to give her the benefit of the doubt! She seemed like she had something she wanted to prove.”

“She said four hours. Carol came to you before that because we were about to lose Daryl on a crazy quest to find her.” Maggie was looking at Glenn but then sent a pointed glance to each of them.

“He’s gonna have a lot to say when he finds out you waited, especially after what we had Hershel do.” Carol said from her spot on the top of the stairs.

“What did Hershel do?” All eyes turned to you in the doorway, dropping the straps you had made from the walker’s overalls. It was Lori that made it to you first, her arms winding around you awkwardly with two different sized bumps barring the way.

“Carol told us you had left to hunt and all I could think about were the things I said upstairs.” The other woman’s eyes were wet and sincere. With a smile, you pulled off one of your gloves and wiped a thumb below her eye. You didn’t say anything because what could you say? She had been incredibly insulting to Daryl and you wouldn’t speak for him. Maybe she would get the hint and talk to him eventually. Maybe not.

You looked past Lori toward Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn. "Got a deer and two rabbits." Then your next smile, wry as it was, aimed up the stairs. “What did Hershel do, Carol?” Carl and Beth came thumping out of the kitchen, throwing their arms around you. You hugged them close while your eyes flitted over to the old veterinarian himself walking along the banister from Daryl’s room. You were gentle when pulling away from the kids, tossing a kills are on the porch, have fun at the men while you began your ascent.

Carol fell in step with you.

“Before anything else,” you started, unzipping your coat, “I had a literal run-in with a walker. Hershel, can you—?” You rolled up your sweater, the skin already bruising.

“Has the baby been active?” He asked immediately, probing the area with tenderness while the other hand struggled to place his stethoscope in his ears.

“It’s Nascar in there, I promise.” You felt the baby squirm slightly before they settled again, your eyes on the old man’s face, watching for any concern. You found none and let out a breath when he straightened.

“Seems like all is well. Heartbeat is just fine and it is indeed the Indy 500. You were lucky.” There was a bit of a reprimand in that last statement, one you couldn’t say was unwarranted. Nodding in agreement, you made up your mind that as long as the meat could last until Daryl was on his feet, you wouldn’t venture out alone again.

You then turned to Carol. You had told her to do whatever it took to keep him there, even knock him out. If Hershel was involved, you assumed the knocking out was of a medicational nature. He wasn’t dead, they would have been smart enough to tell you that around people that could restrain you. “Okay, what’s the damage?” You asked from just beside the doorway, afraid to look inside just yet. “Is he tied down?” Carol shook her head.

“He was determined, Y/N. He pulled out the IV, only made it to the stairs before collapsing. They couldn’t get him back into the room, weak as he was, he fought all three of those grown men.” Hershel sighed. “I gave him a very small dose of morphine. It was enough to sedate him without compromising his respiration.”

You groaned. That man was going to verbally rip you a new asshole, but you’d take it with grace because it was going to keep him safe and give him more time to recover. As long as the meat was prepared and rationed correctly, it could last a while. Maybe that would give you a chance to get back on his good side.

He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him.

“Okay, so what do I need to do?” You asked, finally rolling your back against the wall to place you inside the room. Daryl was out. You had never seen the man so unconscious, and you’d seen him nearly die. That was a frightening thought. The plus side was that his color was so much better and the rattle in his chest couldn’t be heard until you were much closer. He didn’t stir in the slightest when you sat down next to his left hip, all the way around toward the wall, avoiding the arm with the replaced IV.

“You won’t need to do much of anything. Monitor his breathing and fetch me if it gets too slow. It shouldn’t with the dose I gave him but his body has been fighting a horrific illness, so we can’t be too careful. It’s been a couple of hours so it will likely start wearing off soon, regardless. When he wakes up, make sure he drinks and encourage him to cough. Coughing and keeping the lungs free of mucus and liquid is crucial.”

You were nodding almost robotically, your fingertips just brushing his hair back and forth with no particular rhyme or reason. Just touching him.

“His fever has yet to break but it’s lowered dramat—is she even listening to me?” Hershel finally asked Carol, who chuckled and leaned across Daryl to clasp your shoulder until you looked at her.

“Watch how he breathes, don’t let it get too slow. Only for an hour or so. Get him to cough and drink when he wakes up. Fever has come down but hasn’t broken. I’ll come tell you when to give him more tylenol. Okay?”

You smiled, both embarrassed and grateful. “Okay.” With a nod to Hershel and an eye roll at Carol’s wink, you watched them shut the door.

Your hand on his cheek had to be freezing. They had just said his fever was down but he felt like a furnace to you. Shit. You were still in the clothes you had been wearing out in the snow. Coat, boots, jeans, and one pair of socks were quickly shed, you were in your sweater and leggings with your thicker socks still covering your feet. You’d been gone long enough and couldn’t seem to wait another second to crawl onto the bed with him. He shivered once but settled, his head turning toward you. You thought for a moment he might wake but he remained still.

With a deep breath, you settled yourself against his shoulder so that you could look up at his face. “I know you’re going to be mad as fuck at me, and I get it. You have a right to be and I won’t tell you otherwise. I was careful, I promise.” Your palm settled on his chest, feeling his heart lazily thump against it. “I have a—well, it’s just a bruise. Hershel looked at it. Thumper’s okay. I’m okay.” Why were you even talking? He was sound asleep. “I didn’t like being away from you while you were so sick. I don’t think I would have liked it even if you weren’t sick.”

Your hand left his chest for your fingers to dance along his jaw while you admired just how peaceful he looked. No lines of worry or pain. Just resting, fully relaxed. Seeing him like that just made your own exhaustion compound into something nearly unavoidable. With a large yawn, you snuggled closer and placed your hand back on his chest, counting his breaths like sheep. You knew you were losing the battle to stay awake, a tinge of worry sparking to life in your chest until you felt him move, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. He wasn’t so sedated that he couldn’t move.

Sighing, you smiled and finally let your eyes drift closed. “I love you.” You whispered, too far gone to react when the hand sporting the IV came to rest on top of yours.

“Me too, crazy girl.”

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unacknowledgeable · 1 day ago

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For the SK reader series, will the reader get a love interest?? Because there's something so dark yet hypnotic when u find someone who doesn't want you to change, they accept you as you are, worms and all. Something akin to Hannibal and Will Graham if you get me.

Anyways, just wanted to say your series is so addictive and I can't wait to read more!

Y’know, I've thought about love interests so much this week, because ppl seem very interested in me introducing one and I genuinely can't decide which one I like the most, because I find them all utterly hilarious.

For the “so what are we” Gothamite, think Mikasa from DeathNote lol. Those are the major vibes I'm getting from them, and I just jotted down some conversations I imagined. I'll just call them the ‘Near Victim Interest’ lol.

SK!Reader: “I will rip your intestines out through your mouth and dance the night away with them lining my neck”

NV!Interest: “Oh dear god…Baby you promise?”

SK!Reader: “...What?” NV!Interest: “What?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “That is the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

SK!Reader: “I literally said I was going to split your head in half starting at the throat.”

NV!Interest: “Yeah, exactly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: “Haha, sweetie is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see- oh i've been impaled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NV!Interest: (Laid out on the embalming table, having gotten into readers work place) “paint me like one of your crime scenes”

SK!Reader: “How… did you get in here?”

NV!Interest: “Oh the commissioner let me in once I told him we’re dating! Gordy’s so nice, right?”

SK!Reader: “Wha- Gordy?? Wait- we’re NOT dating! I don't even know you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, one of the other “love interests” I've thought about was someone within the same Elite circles as SK!Readers “Mini-Brucie” persona.

They’ll probably end up looking at this ditzy, airheaded, charismatic moron and, for just a second, catches a glimpse of how truly calculated the twitch of your lips are, how your eyes flash in cold fury at the touch of hands dragging you around the room, how the precise snap of your words works the room in your favor, intricately crafting every conversion you’ve been dragged into under your control, but never to the center stage. In the blink of an eye, it’s all gone and they’re left thinking, ‘oh I could make you so much worse.’

This person basically wants to groom the reader into the next “big bad” of Gotham, or maybe into joining The Court, without realizing just how far off the deep end SK!Reader already is. It’s like trying to teach someone the alphabet, while not knowing they can already read at a college level.

They want to mold you into the perfect mastermind, able to rival the likes of Batman on wits alone, and wish to chisel at your marbled potential so that they may unleash their magnum opus upon the unwitting populace of Gotham.

But… you just aren't interested in using your intellect for more than what you are now. You're quite content with operating as you have been, thank you very much. You have no intention of disrupting your meticulously maintained status quo. So, it's safe to say that this is getting proceedingly more frustrating on both sides. This person thinks you're putting all your potential to waste, unaware just how capable you really are, meanwhile you're trying to get this pompous asshole off your back so you can continue business as usual.

And my last love interest idea was diving more into the Jinx aspects of SK!Reader and going full TimeBomb lmaooo

~Masterlist~

#Serialkiller!reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #gender neutral reader #gn reader #platonic yandere batfam #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #yandere barbara gordon #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere commissioner gordon #yandere james gordon #asks

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mcflymemes · 1 year ago

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INQUISITION PARTY BANTER * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition

you... actually look like that?

thank you for remembering. sometimes people forget me.

it's interesting watching you. the way you carry yourself when you use magic.

why are you so angry at your father? he wants to help and you know he does.

no one needs to see my arse.

you're set on being sad forever.

remember, do not use it like a sword.

i'd just eat the cheese.

always knew you were up to something.

you didn't always have a beard.

sometimes love isn't enough.

there were so many wonderful hats.

you're happier now, [name].

you have so many feelings.

i am uncertain whether to believe you.

the world doesn't make sense to them. it's too real.

you're right about that. they would.

do you need to eat? or sleep?

you would stop it if you could.

i can't tug it loose without tearing it.

stop. it isn't about you.

i believe i can work with that.

you have other things to carry.

you're serious, aren't you?

you let it keep hurting because you think hurting is who you are.

it is because you think you have to?

you ask a lot of questions, [name].

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

i'll have to steal that one.

hey, when this is all done, if you ever need my help for anything, you just ask, all right?

maybe you're not a complete moron.

we were having a moment, and now you've ruined it.

i can't believe you drank that swill at the tavern.

i'm well aware you lied to me.

that is... remarkably decent of you.

i don't want to think about that right now.

you need a hairbrush.

when you charge at them, you make them hit you.

i'm curious about you. i had no idea something like you was possible.

how do you want to be remembered? valiant yet sexy rebel against the status quo?

it's not easy finding people willing to shoulder such a terrible responsibility.

it's not such a terrible thing. some of my best friends are murderers.

who's judging now?

i know your kind.

i know that what comes out of your mouth is the same drivel that comes out of theirs.

careful i don't club you on the head.

if i had something to say, i'd say it.

if we're going to fight at each other's side, we need to get along.

enough, both of you.

you said i could ask you questions.

how do you get your hair to do that?

do you think we could ever be friends?

killing him won't make anything better.

if you really cared, you could ask.

you caught the eye of a young woman in that last village.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

i question your reasons for being here.

my reasons for being here are the same as yours.

i think that's the first time i've heard you admit anything is complicated.

what made you change your mind?

i will try to be more like you.

you should learn to watch your back.

i mean. could be naked more. that'd be better.

beardy people are supposed to be jolly.

why are you complaining?

you're smirking again.

right, here we go. what is it from you?

there is no need to tell anyone that.

does yelling while we're walking around count?

stop pointing that at me!

you need a drink or something, you tell me.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #rp starters #roleplay prompt #ask memes #ask meme #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mcflymemes

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t-l-machine · 15 days ago

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Thinking about the protagonist's place in society, and how it relates to Sylus

She belongs. As far as anyone is concerned, she is accepted by her society as one of its most respectable protectors. The Hunters continue to uphold the status quo, after all, and the protagonist is granted financial as well as social independence because of it.

If you're Sylus, then you're witnessing the woman you love evolve away from the social outcast who was meant to be executed. She has friends, had family, and now has a purpose beyond "burn those who ostracized us."

Is it responsible or even loving to convince the protagonist that the world she's been protecting all this time once despised her?

If the past causes the protagonist pain, then it makes more sense for him to carry that weight and build a happier future with her. How much did he damage their relationship in this timeline initially because he couldn't let go of the past? Of this idea that he and the protagonist were naturally capable of resonance thanks to their soul-bond?

Things have progressed much smoother for him by focusing on this timeline...Except he can't forget one thing: he is an outsider in every lifetime.

However much Sylus can blend in with the protagonist's co-workers, however much he dolls up his records as a businessman, he's still an outcast. Dragon. Crime lord. It doesn't matter; he's someone who is always defined in opposition to "respectable" society.

Which means he knows before the protagonist does that she has an important choice to make. Is she going to abandon this newfound acceptance in her own society to remain by his side? Or will she abandon him? If he explained the truth of their past, there's a good chance she'd stay with him...But that would be a cruel thing to do. Sylus already proved once he'd rather die than sincerely hurt us. Let's just hope he doesn't have to make that choice again in this timeline.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lads sylus x mc

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you.

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that.

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo.

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally.

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you.

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.”

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.”

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.”

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.”

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.”

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?”

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.”

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.”

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.”

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.”

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.”

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.”

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.”

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.”

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with?

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.”

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.”

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.”

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

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